The second that ancient, weathered voice echoed through the Chamber.
Lucien's internal alarms went off like fireworks.
The Heir of Slytherin!
Was it because he'd started channeling magic—his power tripping some hidden trap in the Chamber?
A backup spell from Slytherin to protect his heir?
Lucien didn't hesitate. His left hand slammed down, driving the Sword of Gryffindor straight into the diary.
At the same instant, his right hand flicked— a crackling purple-blue thunder arrow shot toward Tom faster than the eye could track.
Plans change; destroy the Heir of Slytherin first, ask questions later!
Whoosh—
Black smoke poured off Tom, twisting into sickly green flames that lunged at Lucien—just in time to collide head-on with the lightning bolt.
Thunder and fire smashed together in a deafening explosion!
Tom braced himself for the soul-deep agony of his Horcrux taking damage.
But… nothing. No ripping pain in his core.
And the force opposing his green fire suddenly dropped off a cliff!
As the blinding flash faded, Tom stared.
Lucien was gone!
The silver sword that should've pierced the diary? Vanished!
Joy flooded Tom's spectral form, a grin creeping across his face.
"Ancestor, you really did protect your descendant—punished that filthy Mudblood for daring to strike the Heir!"
Tom spun toward the massive statue carved into the Chamber wall.
It was as tall as the room itself: a gaunt, monkey-like face lost in a tangled beard that pooled on the floor.
Salazar Slytherin.
One of Hogwarts' four founders, creator of Slytherin House, a legend of his era, master of the darkest magics…
He'd built the Chamber and left the basilisk for a true heir.
Tom's own mother had been a Gaunt—direct descendants of Salazar himself. The blood ran in his veins.
Fifty years ago, Tom had found the Chamber, entered it, and claimed Slytherin's legacy.
In talent, blood, knowledge, ambition—Tom knew he was the perfect heir!
He hadn't heard that voice back then.
No matter. Maybe the massive magic surge triggered it, or his near-death moment activated Salazar's failsafe!
Still buzzing with triumph, Tom scooped up the dropped vial of dragon blood, checked the amount—enough left—and let out a relieved breath.
He stepped to the untouched cauldron, ready to finish the final step of the potion.
Plink—
The vial slipped again, crimson blood trickling across the stone.
Tom stared in horror at his translucent hand—fading fast, dissolving like mist!
"No…"
The word barely left him before his whole soul-body blurred.
A faint red glow burst from his chest, streaking like a crimson comet straight into the eyes of Salazar's statue.
Tom reached desperately for that last spark of life force—too slow.
As his eyes dissolved, he locked onto the statue, confusion burning in his fading gaze.
His soul scattered completely, leaving only a wisp of black smoke that drifted helplessly back into the diary.
The next second, a pale blue orb drilled out of the forehead of Lockhart (who'd collapsed earlier) and shot into the statue's eyes too.
…
Light flared in front of Lucien.
A heartbeat later: pure white. Endless, empty white.
Teleported to some unknown space—Lucien's first move was layering defenses on himself.
Ironclad armor charm, heavy barriers, lightning cloak…
As the spells settled, he reached for Luster—get out first, figure the rest later.
Clap clap—
Applause echoed behind him.
"Excellent reflexes. Good vigilance…"
A drifting voice followed the claps.
Lucien Apparated instantly, reappearing in a new spot.
Frown creasing his brow.
Apparition worked fine, but Luster? No response at all.
He stared at his original position—nothing there. But the voice had definitely…
His pupils spun into black vortexes, flooding his eyes with pure darkness, pushing his magic-sight to the limit to track the mystery speaker.
"Interesting eyes. But not enough…"
The voice again—behind him. No hesitation: blinding lightning exploded from his wand tip, expanding wildly in all directions.
No feedback. No hit on anything solid!
The guy dodged too fast?
This weird space…
Slytherin's magic?
A ridiculous thought hit Lucien.
He pulled back the lightning, letting it coil around him like a shield, and spoke slowly.
"Salazar Slytherin?"
His voice echoed endlessly.
"I've finally waited for a worthy heir…"
After what felt like forever, the voice returned—ancient, exactly like in the Chamber.
A figure coalesced in front of him.
It nodded at Lucien, sizing up the boy.
"Hmm. Ravenclaw's…"
But when the gaze landed on the Sword of Gryffindor in Lucien's hand, the voice paused.
"Which house are you, exactly?"
———
Pure white space.
The figure sharpened into focus.
A tall, silver-haired man with green eyes, draped in ornate black robes, eyeing Lucien with clear interest.
His eyes were strange—slitted like a snake's, glowing with an eerie light.
Lucien studied him back. Nothing like the monkey-faced statue in the Chamber.
Legends said Slytherin's heavy dark magic use twisted his body, aged him into something ugly…
This must be a younger version.
Thump—
A soft ping echoed in Lucien's mind, making him frown.
His "Knowledge Barrier" just got rattled.
An ancient spell he'd dug up in Flamel's library: condenses your knowledge and magic into a mental shield against memory wipes, Legilimency, anything targeting the mind or soul.
Similar to Occlumency, but tailored to Lucien's style.
He'd even woven in Whomping Willow branches to strengthen it.
Someone—or something—just probed it.
Legilimency?
Slytherin was a master Legilimens; he'd enchanted the Sorting Hat to read minds.
"What weird stuff have you wizards been learning?"
The silver-haired man spoke again, voice ancient and gravelly despite his middle-aged face.
"Something about mass and energy not being separate concepts, but two forms of the same thing… mass-energy equation…"
Lucien's expression twitched. He'd built the barrier with a ton of Muggle science—turns out it worked like a charm.
The barrier's trick: the stranger the knowledge to the intruder, the tougher the shield. Forces them to brute-force it, costing way more magic and time—plenty for Lucien to notice and counter.
Pure-blood wizards rarely bothered with Muggle studies, even the curious ones.
The man's gaze locked on Lucien's house badge. Two glowing orbs had appeared in his hand—one red, one blue. He rolled the blue one between his fingers, thoughtful.
"Muggle knowledge? You remind me of Rowena—anything counts as knowledge, she'd devour it."
Lucien figured "Rowena" meant Rowena Ravenclaw, founder of his house, one of the big four.
The casual familiarity pretty much confirmed who this was.
Bigger question: why pull Lucien here instead of saving Tom? And calling him the heir?
"You've guessed. I am Salazar Slytherin."
"Don't worry about outside—it's handled. Lucien Grafton, second-year Ravenclaw?"
He cracked the Knowledge Barrier?
The thought flashed—then no. No feedback from the shield. Or was Salazar just that good? A thousand-year-old legend…
Lucien's face shifted slightly. Salazar's lips curved.
"Relax. Not your memories—his." He weighed the blue orb. "Gilderoy Lockhart's."
Lockhart's memories?
Lucien's eyes flicked to the orb, piecing it together.
After a beat, he chose his words carefully.
"Dean Slytherin, I've got some things to wrap up. Could we do this after I—"
Salazar waved him off.
"No rush. This is a mind-space. Time flows differently here."
Mind-space?
Lucien blinked. Felt so real—magic worked fine. Not the physical world?
That explained Luster ignoring him.
Quick test: he willed the Sword of Gryffindor gone.
Poof. Vanished—not into his trace-less pouch, just gone because he thought it.
Salazar nodded approvingly.
"Sharp."
"'Dean Slytherin'—now that's a title I haven't heard in ages."
"So. Want my legacy? A Ravenclaw like you craves knowledge. No reason to say no, right?"
Lucien noticed Salazar's vibe softened a bit after the sword disappeared.
Accept Slytherin's inheritance…
Hell yes, he was tempted. A legendary wizard from a millennium ago—his knowledge would be priceless!
"I'd love to learn from you, but first—mind telling me your criteria for picking an heir?"
Tom opened the Chamber fifty years ago, controls the basilisk now, has insane talent, ambition for power, and Gaunt blood straight from Salazar.
Tom screamed "perfect heir."
Why him?
"Talent."
Salazar said it like it was obvious, green slitted eyes gleaming with arrogance.
"My legacy isn't for mediocrity."
Classic Slytherin founder vibe—pure snake-house energy.
Too bad most modern Slytherins had the ego without the skill to back it.
"Second: soul purity and wholeness. The soul is everything."
There it is.
Soul…
Lucien got it instantly. Fifty years ago, pre-Horcrux Tom might've qualified.
Now? Voldemort splintered his soul into pieces. No way that counted as "whole."
The diary was just a fragment—nowhere near the mark.
"Your talent's better. When your magic clashed with his, it woke me. Talent shows in magic circuits and the power itself. You'll understand once you accept."
Salazar sighed.
"Horcruxes… a dead end."
He was a dark magic expert—of course he saw through the diary.
Making Horcruxes was so vile even most dark wizards wouldn't touch it. They'd rather die whole.
Salazar casually popped the faint red orb into his mouth like candy, crunching loudly.
Lucien raised an eyebrow—life force leaking from it?
"Here."
He tossed the blue orb to Lucien.
"Lockhart's memories, plus his unique take on Memory Charms. The kid's got flair with Obliviate."
Higher praise than Lucien expected for Lockhart. Made him even more curious.
He'd been planning to squeeze the spell out of Lockhart anyway—saves trouble.
Snap—
Salazar snapped his fingers. The scene shifted instantly.
"Before the inheritance, a little test. Let's see what you've got."