Ancient Secrets
Since classes hadn't yet started, house points weren't deducted, but both Ron and Harry were still assigned detention for the flying car incident. Lockhart, eager to use the opportunity for more self-promotion, had claimed Harry for himself. Ron, however, was to spend his detention under Sal's supervision.
Sal, seeing how frustrated Snape already was with Umbridge's presence, had volunteered to watch over Ron himself. He didn't think Snape needed another headache on top of that.
"Alright, Ron, you're lucky," Sal said as they entered the Potions classroom. "You get to see how I prepare for classes by helping me brew tomorrow's potion in advance."
Ron's groan was barely concealed. "Lucky. Right."
Sal smirked at Ron's unenthusiastic response but didn't comment. Instead, he started setting up his cauldron. "First, I need you to get the ingredients. They're in that cabinet."
Ron dragged his feet toward the supply cabinet, mumbling under his breath about how Potter got to spend detention with an incompetent narcissist, while he was stuck with a perfectionist overachiever. Not that spending time with Lockhart sounded appealing either.
Sal, meanwhile, was setting his ingredients in order, adjusting the heat of the cauldron, and checking the instructions he had personally modified. Then, something strange happened.
A voice whispered through the air.
Sal froze, glancing up. "Ron?"
But Ron, still sulking, was too busy rummaging through the shelves to have spoken.
Sal narrowed his eyes. He hadn't imagined that. He was sure of it. But before he could focus on the strange sound, Ron returned with the ingredients, grumbling about how potions weren't fair because they didn't involve blasting things.
Sal waved off his complaints. "Stop whining and chop those properly," he instructed.
But his mind remained elsewhere.
Harry, trapped in the world's worst detention, had been forced to open and sort Lockhart's fan mail. He wasn't sure what was worse: the cringe-worthy love letters from admirers or Lockhart's never-ending monologue.
"You know, Harry, it's not all book signings and publicity photos," Lockhart rambled, flashing his trademark smile at an invisible audience. "You want fame? You have to be prepared for a long, hard slog."
Harry barely heard him.
Because at that moment, he heard something else.
A voice. Chilling, raspy, and distant.
"Let me kill… Let me rip… Tear… Blood… so much blood…"
His entire body stiffened. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
"Professor," Harry interrupted suddenly, "Did you hear that?"
Lockhart blinked at him, looking utterly clueless. "Hear what, my dear boy?"
"A voice. It was…" Harry trailed off, suddenly uncertain. "It was saying things…"
Lockhart chuckled. "Ah, yes, yes, I understand completely. You see, fame brings a sort of… constant hum in the background. The weight of expectations, the whispers of the masses—"
"No, I mean a real voice," Harry insisted.
Lockhart waved a hand dismissively. "You've been working too hard. Why don't you head to bed? Rest up—fame waits for no one, after all!"
Harry sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with him. "Yes, Professor."
But as he left Lockhart's office, he kept hearing the whispers, faint and distant.
Harry hurried down the corridors, still shaken by what he had heard.
Then, just as he turned a corner, he almost ran straight into Ron and Sal.
Sal, looking serious, raised an eyebrow. "Harry, good timing. I was just about to walk Ron back to Gryffindor Tower. You two can go together. I've got something I need to take care of."
Harry hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. "Did you… hear anything strange just now?"
Sal tensed almost imperceptibly. "Strange how?"
"…A voice," Harry said slowly, as if trying to piece together what he had just experienced. "It was speaking—something about ripping and blood. But Lockhart didn't hear it."
Ron, still irritated from his detention, gave Harry an incredulous look. "Mate, you sound like you've lost it."
Sal, however, had a completely different reaction.
He wasn't surprised. Not one bit.
"I have to go," he said abruptly, already turning away. "I'll see you two later."
Harry frowned. "Sal, what's going on—?"
But Sal was already gone.
Sal stormed back to his quarters, his mind racing.
He suspected something, but he needed proof.
The voice. He had heard it too, but unlike Harry, he understood exactly what it was.
Parseltongue.
Sal had always been able to speak it, but he had never had a reason to. And yet, Harry—a boy with no known connection to Slytherin's bloodline—had just heard the voice of the same monster that Salazar Slytherin left behind.
If he was right about what was happening…
Then this could undo everything.
Sal grabbed a parchment and quill, writing in swift, precise strokes.
Mother,
There's been a development. I don't want to explain without proof, but if I'm right, this could change everything.
I need you to go to the Slytherin Vault and retrieve anything Salazar Slytherin wrote—letters, journals, even a Pensieve memory, if there is one.
Additionally, I require someone who can authenticate ancient texts.
This is urgent.
—Sal
Sal sealed the letter and sent it off immediately.
Then, sitting back in his chair, he closed his eyes and exhaled.
If he was correct, then the Chamber of Secrets was open again.
And Hogwarts was in more danger than it realized.
Lindsey sat in her office at the Ministry, Sal's letter unfolded before her. Her sharp eyes scanned the words again, lingering over certain phrases.
"If I'm right, this could change everything."
"Retrieve anything Salazar Slytherin wrote, even a Pensieve memory if there's one."
"Authenticate ancient texts."
A slow exhale left her lips as she leaned back in her chair. Sal rarely made requests of this magnitude. If he was reaching out like this, it meant something serious was happening at Hogwarts.
She tapped her fingers against the desk. The Chamber of Secrets.
She had long suspected its existence. Salazar had left behind more than just his ideals—he left behind power. But Lindsey had never found proof beyond myths and speculation. If Sal was right, and the Chamber had been opened, then they were all in danger.
Lindsey stood. She needed to act fast.
Deep within Gringotts, Lindsey walked beside Aglok, the goblin who oversaw the ancient vaults. He was one of the few she trusted to handle the older magics.
"You don't usually request access to this vault, Lady Slytherin," Aglok noted as they descended into the depths of the bank.
"I don't usually have reason to," Lindsey replied. "But my son has raised a concern, and I need to verify something."
Aglok studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "The old magics stir more than they have in centuries. Whatever your son is searching for, he may not like the answer."
Lindsey said nothing. She had already considered that.
The massive iron doors of the Slytherin Vault loomed ahead, adorned with ancient runes that pulsed faintly in the dim torchlight. Aglok motioned for her to step forward.
"As always, only your blood will open it," he reminded her.
Lindsey took out a small silver dagger and pressed the tip to her palm. A single drop of blood fell onto the doors, and the runes flared bright green. The iron creaked as the vault slowly opened.
Inside, towering shelves of tomes stretched toward the ceiling, ancient artifacts gleamed under protective enchantments, and at the center, a pedestal held what she had come for—
Salazar Slytherin's personal writings.
Lindsey strode forward, her fingers grazing the centuries-old parchment. Some were brittle, preserved only by lingering charms, others sealed magically.
She found what she was looking for: a leather-bound journal bearing Salazar's sigil.
Carefully, she unsealed it and flipped through the pages, her sharp eyes scanning the elegant script.
Then she stopped.
Her breath caught as she read the words.
"The Guardian shall remain, for the world does not yet understand the war to come. I have left my warning within the walls of our school, hidden from those unworthy to claim it. The heir, when the time is right, shall awaken my greatest work… and the beast shall obey only him."
Lindsey's grip tightened around the journal.
"The heir… the beast…"
The Chamber of Secrets.
If Sal was right—if it was open—this was worse than she thought.
But as she moved toward the vault's exit, something caught her eye.
On the farthest shelf, nestled between enchanted tomes, was a small stone basin lined with runes. A Pensieve.
Lindsey's breath hitched.
This wasn't just any Pensieve. The swirling silver memory inside was still active—which meant it had been sealed away for a reason.
She hesitated for only a second before stepping forward. If she was going to send Sal the journal, she might as well give him the full truth.
She lifted the Pensieve, whispering an incantation to seal it in a warded case for transport.
She didn't know what it contained… but if Salazar himself had stored it, then Sal needed to see it.
Sal,
I retrieved the documents you requested. The situation is grave. Enclosed is a direct journal entry from Salazar Slytherin himself.
The Chamber of Secrets is not just a myth. It exists, and it was designed to be opened by an Heir. What concerns me most is that it speaks of a Guardian—a creature of his creation—one that will obey only his bloodline.
I also found something unexpected—a Pensieve hidden within the Vault. It contains a memory that Salazar himself left behind. I do not know what it holds, but it may contain the truth you're searching for. Be careful. Use it only when you're alone.
Additionally, I am sending Edwin Rosier, a scholar specializing in historical magical texts, to assist you. He will arrive at Hogwarts under official Ministry business. Use him to your advantage.
Be careful, Sal. Do not let the wrong people learn what you now know.
-Mother
Sal received the package late at night. When he unwrapped it, he immediately flipped through the journal.
His pulse quickened.
Then his eyes landed on the Pensieve.
He traced his fingers over the cool stone surface, watching the swirling silver mist inside.
A memory from Salazar Slytherin himself.
This was huge.
But before he could unlock its secrets, he needed to be smart.
"Be careful. Use it only when you're alone."
Sal carefully resealed the case.
If the Chamber of Secrets was open, then someone had claimed the title of Heir.
And now, thanks to his mother, he had the knowledge to stop them.
Sal sat in his quarters, flipping through Salazar Slytherin's journal. The more he read, the heavier the truth became. The Founders had built Hogwarts as a fortress against a war, not just a school. The conflict between magicals and King Arthur's forces had been far greater than what history had recorded.
The revelations were staggering:
•Merlin was not the hero history painted him to be. He had sided with Arthur, enabling the persecution of magicals and creatures alike.
•Morgana and the Founders had fought together. They built Hogwarts as a safe haven, using their magic to shape both the castle and the surrounding lands.
•Each Founder contributed something unique to Hogwarts' defenses.
•Godric left behind his enchanted suits of armor.
•Helga forged an alliance with the centaurs and infused the land with magical plants.
•Rowena created the castle's ancient wards.
•Salazar built hidden chambers and passageways—the most famous of which was the Chamber of Secrets.
But the biggest shock came when Salazar mentioned his guardian.
"Before I leave, I will entrust my familiar to the depths of Hogwarts. She will slumber in my chamber, protecting the school in my absence until my heir is ready to reclaim her."
A guardian.
Not a monster. Not a tool of destruction. A protector.
That single passage changed everything Sal had ever known about the Chamber of Secrets. What if the basilisk was never meant to be used to kill students? What if the one who opened the Chamber was twisting Salazar's legacy?
Sal's grip tightened on the journal.
I have to see for myself.
The next evening, Sal stood in Dumbledore's office along with Edwin Rosier, the historian his mother had sent. Sitting on the desk was an ancient pensive, filled with Salazar's memory.
"You're certain this is authentic?" Dumbledore asked, peering over his half-moon spectacles.
Edwin adjusted his glasses. "Between the age of the material and the magical preservation, there's no doubt—it's Salazar Slytherin's memory."
Sal nodded. "Then let's watch."
One by one, they stepped into the pensive.
The stone walls of the Headmaster's office flickered into view—but it was far older, missing its usual desk and artifacts. Instead, a massive round table stood at the center, where four figures and a fifth presence sat.
The Founders of Hogwarts.
And beside them, cloaked in shadow, was Morgana Le Fey herself.
Sal had expected bickering between Salazar and Godric, but what he saw instead was a war council.
"We cannot keep this up," Salazar said, slamming his hand on the table. "The muggles outnumber us a thousand to one. They burn us at the stake. They hunt our kind for sport."
Helga frowned. "We are not abandoning those we've sworn to protect."
"Nor am I suggesting that," Salazar snapped. "But our enemies have Merlin—a wizard of unparalleled skill who has betrayed his own kind in service of a tyrant."
Rowena sighed. "Then what do you propose?"
Salazar reached into his cloak and withdrew three objects—a wand, a stone, and a cloak.
Albus and Edwin gasped from where they stood, watching the memory unfold.
The Deathly Hallows.
Helga's eyes widened. "Salazar… what have you done?"
"I have made a bargain," Salazar said solemnly. "Our magic stems from the Albion currents, but my family's power comes from another source. Death herself."
Rowena stood abruptly. "You made a deal with Death?!"
"Desperate times," Salazar said simply. "With these, I can challenge Merlin. The cloak will hide me from his sight, the wand will match his power, and the stone will grant me knowledge beyond the veil."
Godric exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Tell me you're joking."
"I never joke about war," Salazar said.
Rowena, despite her dismay, studied the artifacts with interest.
"And where will you hide them?" she asked.
Salazar smirked. "The wand will pass through the hands of those worthy enough to claim it. The cloak will stay within my bloodline. And the stone… the stone I will place where only those who seek it for knowledge, rather than greed, will find it."
Morgana leaned forward. "And Arthur?"
"I have arranged for Mordred to challenge him," Salazar said. "If he succeeds, the muggles will fall into disarray."
Godric folded his arms. "And the castle?"
"I leave my guardian in my Chamber of Secrets," Salazar said. "She will awaken only when Hogwarts is truly in danger."
The scene flickered—and ended.
The silence in the headmaster's office stretched thick with the weight of the revelation. Edwin Rosier, the historian, was the first to break it, rubbing his temple as though trying to grasp the enormity of what they had just seen.
"This changes everything," he murmured, looking at Sal with something between awe and apprehension. "Everything we thought we knew about Salazar Slytherin, about Merlin, about Hogwarts itself—it's all been rewritten."
Sal remained silent, processing the gravity of what he had witnessed. His own bloodline was tied to something far greater than he had imagined. The Hallows. The Chamber of Secrets. The very foundation of Hogwarts.
Albus Dumbledore sat quietly behind his desk, his fingers interlaced as he stared at the Elder Wand now resting on his desk. He could feel it—the weight of history, the unspoken truth embedded in the magic itself.
If the Hallows were truly bound to Salazar Slytherin's bloodline, then the legend of the Master of Death had always been misunderstood.
The Elder Wand was his to wield… until now.
His sharp blue eyes lifted to Sal, calculating. What will he do with this knowledge?
"Salazar's name has been used to justify countless atrocities," Edwin continued, breaking the headmaster's thoughts. "If this gets out, the wizarding world will be shaken to its core. The entire narrative of light versus dark was never as simple as we were told."
Albus nodded solemnly. "This knowledge is both powerful and dangerous. What we do with it must be carefully considered."
Sal exhaled, finally speaking.
"I need to see the Chamber."
Albus and Edwin both turned to him.
"If what we saw in the memory is true," Sal continued, gripping the journal tightly, "then the basilisk isn't a mindless weapon—it's a guardian. My ancestor didn't leave it there to kill Muggle-borns or 'purge the unworthy.' He left it to protect the school."
Albus nodded. "And if that is true, then the heir who opened the Chamber may have awakened it with very different intentions."
Sal clenched his jaw. "Then I need to stop them."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, considering his options.
"You will not go alone," he finally said.
Sal opened his mouth to argue, but the headmaster raised a hand.
"This is bigger than just you, Salazar. If the Chamber has been opened, and if the heir is using the basilisk, then this is a matter of Hogwarts' security. You will need support."
Sal folded his arms. "I don't want to involve the professors. If word spreads too soon, it could turn into mass panic."
Edwin spoke up. "What about Lupin? He already knows something is going on."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Remus is—preoccupied. His presence at Hogwarts is meant to be subtle for now."
Sal thought for a moment. "Then I'll bring Tonks. She's an Auror now, and she won't hesitate to get involved."
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "She won't be happy you waited this long to tell her."
Sal smirked. "She'll get over it. Eventually."
Dumbledore exhaled, nodding. "Very well. You and Miss Tonks will investigate the Chamber of Secrets—but if the basilisk has truly been awakened, you must be prepared for what you might find."
Sal turned to Edwin. "Can you translate more of Salazar's writings? There may be something useful we haven't found yet."
Edwin nodded. "I'll do my best, but ancient magical texts can be tricky. Some knowledge is hidden within enchantments even I can't decipher."
Sal stood. "Then I'd better start preparing."
Dumbledore watched him go, his mind already calculating the next steps. The past had resurfaced, and the truth of the Founders was beginning to unravel.
And yet, there was still one question left unanswered—
If the Chamber of Secrets had been opened by an heir… then who was the heir?
And what did they really want?