In a chamber inside the dungeons, close to the Slytherin dormitory, a certain raven-haired girl was struggling to defend herself as a flurry of spells was being constantly fired at her.
"You are loving this, aren't you?!" she shouted aggrievedly, and the boy on the other end smiled.
"Have you only just figured that out, dear Gemma?" Altair asked playfully. "To be honest, I finally understand why my mother enjoys doing the same to me. It's quite… fun." He grinned.
Gemma quickly cast several more shields, but a spell still managed to sneak past her defences, and she lost her wand.
"You lose, again," he whispered, catching her wand in his hand. "You know the punishment."
"No…" Her eyes quivered, but she saw Altair's wand shoot out a light before she heard the incantation.
"Verisomno."
Her body swayed as she instantly lost consciousness and entered a dream born from her deepest and most shameful desires.
She never hit the cold floor; her body floated gently in the air, in a perfect sleeping position, as Altair walked over and put her wand in its sleeve.
"Rinky."
At his call, the Hogwarts house-elf instantly appeared by his side and bowed.
"Yes, Master Black?"
"Please put Gemma in her bed and make sure she is comfortable. Lock her door from inside so that no one can disturb her sleep."
"As you command, Master Black." She smiled, touched the floating girl, and instantly disappeared with her.
A few seconds later, Rinky reappeared next to him, and he gently caressed her head.
"That will be all, Rinky. Thank you. Go and get some sleep."
"Yes, Master Black." She bowed again before vanishing.
It was past midnight now, and when he exited the chamber, the corridor was eerily dark.
Suddenly, he felt his locket tremble, and instinctively, his feet turned towards the other side, leading him into the pitch dark.
His locket buzzed, and he was soon coated inside a charm that made him invisible and also enabled him to see in the dark as clearly as in daylight.
He sensed a powerful charm, ancient and extremely potent. It was trying to confuse him, to turn him back, but the locket protected him.
The silence around him grew heavier, and even his own footsteps faded after he entered a corridor that seemed to have just come into existence.
As he travelled through it, he found out that it was a labyrinth where a man could even wander for years and never find their way out.
However, the locket guided him, helping him make the right choices. With its help he made his way through the dark maze of corridors, eventually finding himself standing in front of a dead end.
It was not a dead end though. Altair could sense the magic, familiar for some reason, and resonating with his blood.
After giving it some thought, he carefully reached forward and touched the wall with his hand.
"Reveal your secret to me…" he whispered, infusing his words with magic, and briefly saw a coiling snake hidden in the wall, a guardian to the vault-like door. "Reveal yourself." He used Parseltongue this time, and smiled as the serpent came to life.
The charm concealing this place grew even stronger, and everything behind him faded to pitch black.
It was then that Altair saw the silver door and the metallic snake that slithered endlessly in circles around it.
"Open…"
He whispered, but the door did not budge.
His brows furrowed as his mind raced to find the password, but nothing came to him... until the very words appeared in his mind.
The words of House Slytherin: Pure of Blood, Pure or Magic.
"Purus Sanguine, Purus Magia…" he spoke in Parseltongue, and the serpent instantly stopped before it began to move anticlockwise.
Altair felt the wall tremble as the vault opened, and torches in the stone tunnel beyond it flared to life with ominous green flames.
A smile formed on his lips as he stepped inside, unflinching as the door shut behind him.
His footsteps echoed as he walked deeper into the tunnel, until he arrived before a tall green and silver door bearing the crest of the Slytherin family.
He paused, then gently pushed. To his surprise, it opened, and a solar revealed itself.
He might have called it something else, but the enchanted ceiling, just like the Duelling Hall and Great Hall, technically made it a solar; and this was Salazar's Solar.
Excited yet cautious, he scanned the room, sensed its magic, and only then stepped inside.
Again, the door closed behind him, but he paid it no mind as he strode straight to the bookshelves, his eyes gleaming in excitement.
He was happily exploring when a voice startled him so much his heart nearly leapt from his chest.
"Alas, someone has found the way here. The blood endures…"
It was a man's voice, speaking Parseltongue, and Altair controlled his racing heart and calmly turned around to face the large living portrait of a man in his early old age.
He was refined, undoubtedly noble, and even as old age stole the brilliance from his once-emerald eyes, they still held a hint of green and were sharp as a serpent's gaze.
Rich, deep green robes, and around his neck a golden chain; yes, golden, not silver, and with a prominent medallion shaped like the letter "S", ancient and ornate in design, representing the image of a snake.
Despite his age, the man's dark hair, streaked with iron grey, cascaded past his shoulders.
He sat in a high-backed chair, watching Altair with calculating eyes.
"Lord Salazar." Altair bowed politely, observing proper etiquette.
"Come closer."
The old man beckoned, and Altair stepped forward, stopping in front of the work table under the light.
"Raven hair, fair, noble, tall for your age, and those eyes… Morvaine or Black?"
"Both." He smiled, and the man's eyes sharpened. "And Slytherin."
Salazar regarded him for a long moment, then frowned.
"You are from my sister's line."
"Yes, and yours too. Your youngest daughter married her cousin." He revealed what he had learned from the Book of Ancestry of the Morvaine Family.
"Ah… my Sibylla. Young and frail…" He smiled faintly. "She lived and had children."
"Three," Altair informed him and watched the man smile some more.
"How long has it been?"
"It's the year 1990 CE."
His answer surprised the old man, who frowned again.
"Are there Slytherins still out there?"
"Only in Hogwarts, I'm afraid. The Slytherin name ended two centuries after your disappearance. Several new lines emerged, but except for one, the rest became impure. The Gaunts, the last remaining pure-blood line who claimed descent from you, have ended too. The sole survivor, an old man, rots in Azkaban, a prison guarded by Dementors."
Salazar's face reddened in anger at these words, but he didn't shout. He remained silent, and minutes later, he sadly lowered his head.
"Open the drawer with the two serpents," he whispered, and Altair curiously walked around the table, searching. He soon found the drawer with the crest of twin snakes whose heads were touching.
Inside, he found a small chest, nothing else. He picked it up, placed it on the table, and curiously opened the lid.
He stared at the silver ring, goblin silver, a wide band engraved all around with symmetrical serpentine details, a bright emerald set smoothly in the centre.
On the inside of the band, right under the emerald, were inscribed the words of the Slytherin family.
"Wear it," said Salazar, but Altair did not listen. Instead, he took out the Elder Wand from his locket and spoke an incantation.
"Maledictus Revelio."
The tip of his wand exuded a smoky white light that surrounded the ring, and he watched as the smoke turned darker and darker. The Ring was cursed, and it was a deadly curse.
"Why, old man? You wish to kill your last surviving blood?"
Salazar stared at the wand he had put back in his locket, and then at the locket itself, recognising it.
"Any brilliant wizard can get in here if they know Parseltongue and carry even a hint of Slytherin blood. Even a Half-Blood. However, that does not make them the Heir of House Slytherin."
"I am not an Heir. I am the Lord of House Slytherin." His voice turned cold, and even the old man was taken aback at the magic and anger flickering in his eyes.
"Wear it then. The ring will not harm you if you are who you claim to be. Pure of Blood, Pure of Magic. A true Slytherin who carried our Bloodline Gifts."
Altair stared at him, but then his expression softened and a smile appeared.
"Do you not know what the words of House Morvaine are, Lord Salazar?"
"Sangre Inviolee."
"And you still doubt my blood?"
"There's no other way for me to know who you are, child. Wear that ring." Salazar's voice softened, and Altair kept his gaze on him as he picked up the ring and slid it onto his right ring finger.
Instantly, the emerald gleamed with light, and he felt his blood resonate with the magic of this ancient, powerful artefact.
Seeing the emerald's shine, Salazar's eyes widened in surprise, and then he burst out laughing, both mad and happy.
"My blood endures!" he cried, and his voice echoed in the solar, the magic he had cast a thousand years before still resonating for him.
Altair waited for the old man to speak again, but Salazar kept laughing, which bored him.
He turned away and returned to the bookshelf, where a particular book had caught his eye earlier.
"The Runes Long Lost."
He opened it, waved his hand over the page to reveal its content, then silently took his seat at the table, completely engrossed in the new knowledge.
Salazar, after calming down, remained silent. For hours, he watched Altair read with endless curiosity, not tiring or growing bored, until eventually, a smile returned to his lips.
"I know everything these books hold, child. Ask me."
"I prefer reading," Altair answered simply, causing Salazar's smile to falter. "I'll ask you if I'm short on time, Lord Salazar."
The old man did not speak again and watched Altair read for a couple more hours.
"Is that an Elder Wand inside Morgana's Locket?" he asked when Altair closed the tome.
"Yes."
"Yours?"
"Yes."
"Interesting. It's the rarest of wand woods, and the trickiest. Also fickle if not bound by blood."
"It's bound by blood."
"Oh…"
Altair sensed something in his voice and glanced at him, only to find him wearing a deep frown.
"What?"
"Elder wood can't be bound by blood."
Altair looked at him in surprise, then smiled.
"Well, mine is bound by blood."
"How?" Salazar raised an eyebrow, not doubting, but burning with genuine curiosity.
"I'll let you know once I figure out how it's done."
"The core?" The old man asked, switching topics.
"Star Plume of a Simurgh."
Altair laughed when he saw his ancestor's eyes widen in disbelief, and the old man felt embarrassed as soon as he recovered.
"You created a very special portrait, Lord Salazar. You left behind a piece of your soul in it."
"How did you figure that out?" The old man smiled.
"You're almost… alive. Just like a ghost, but within the portrait."
"You're not far off. I did indeed leave a part of my soul in the portrait, but no matter what, I am dead; this is only a memory. A living, learning, evolving memory."
"Interesting." Altair eyed his ancestor. "Your wand was made out of yew, wasn't it?"
"Aye."
"And a core related to a Naga?"
Salazar fell silent, staring into his eyes.
"Very sharp perception and intuition. You truly are Morgana's blood."
"Thank you, but I'd like to know what exactly the core was. A scale? Fang? Heartstring…"
"Inverse Scale of a Naga."
Altair's smile brightened at the answer.
"You must have been an enigma in your era."
The old man laughed and shook his head.
"No matter how great I was, no matter how great anyone in my era was, all of us lived under Morgana's shadow. Even Merlin could not compare to her."
"Which Merlin? The one who was sorted into Slytherin two hundred years after your disappearance?"
"There was another one?"
"Yes, and if the records are true, he was just as great as the previous ones; because people don't even remember them."
"I doubt that. History is never faithfully true," Salazar smiled. "The Merlin of my era was an old man who'd lived for over three hundred years, considered the strongest... until Morgana slaughtered him."
"Oh? Why?"
"He killed her brother. Her husband."
"Oh…"
"Listen, child, you'd best find a wife for my house with green eyes. Emerald green. No, find two from the same family, three if possible. I don't want the Slytherin line to lose its trademark green eyes…"
Altair's brows twitched at this, and he stood up, ready to leave and not listen to his ancestor's nonsense.
"I'll give you a very special Basilisk if you promise me this!"
Those words halted him, and he turned around, curious.
"A special Basilisk?"
"One that I bred myself. One with the powers of both Naga and Occamy, born from ancient and powerful magic."
Altair raised his eyebrows, though his heart was already racing with excitement. He, however, did not show it on his face.
"Is there a family with emerald eyes?" asked the old man, happy to see that he was willing to make the promise.
"Greengrass."
Salazar looked at him strangely.
"Greengrass? Are they even Pure-blood?"
"Yes, and as noble as they come. And Ancient."
Seeing his confusion, the young Black smiled.
"They were previously known as Mournwyl."
The old man was at first shocked, then lost in thought.
"They survived…" he muttered. "Does the curse still run in their blood?"
"Yes. The younger of the two sisters bears it. They are friends of mine."
"Find another family…"
"A Pure-blood family with those eyes? I'm afraid there are none on this continent or maybe even in the world."
His words left the old man dispirited.
"If you marry them, your legacy will carry that curse as well. Keep away from those girls or anyone from their family."
Altair looked at him curiously, but was short on time so he did not raise any questions.
"I must leave for class, Lord Salazar. We will talk later." He bowed to the old man and left the room to head back to the dormitory.
He needed to get back before Aurelia and Cho started searching for him.