In the blink of an eye, the Runespoor was dead—yet not a single drop of green venom seeped from its mouth.
Instead, its flesh and skin unraveled like a dandelion caught in the wind, dissolving into silver-blue light that gathered in midair.
Wyzett activated his Oculus Magicae, fixing his gaze on the swirling silver-blue radiance and reaching out to it with his will.
As he'd hoped, the light responded instantly—it was Ancient Magic, and it surged toward him, merging into The Wizard's Practical Combat Guide and fusing with one of its pages.
It was the very first Ancient Magic spell he'd ever received, the one that had saved both him and Luna: Ancient Magic: Shield Charm.
The shattered knight statue crumbled to dust. In its place, a new statue slowly rose.
This one depicted an elderly man, heavy tome in hand, seated upon a grand throne. A massive serpent coiled protectively around the throne's base.
The moment the statue appeared, the effect of the Enhanced Extinguishing Charm vanished in a heartbeat.
As Wyzett looked up, the statue's head turned—locking eyes with him.
Those stone-gray eyes glinted with uncanny intelligence and depth, alive with a wisdom that seemed to pierce straight through him.
The old man's statue stirred, setting aside his book. The cold granite hue faded from his skin, replaced by a flush of living color. His hair and beard shimmered into a smooth, lustrous silver-white.
The serpent, too, came alive—uncoiling and transforming into a long, winding staircase.
"How long has it been since I last saw the Oculus Magicae..."
The old man's voice was calm, unhurried. Deep lines etched his face, each wrinkle hinting at some ancient legend.
He rose to his feet, medieval robes of deep green sweeping the floor. Silver embroidery glimmered along the hem, catching the light with a regal sheen.
His silver-white hair billowed behind him, as if stirred by an unseen wind—wild and untamed.
"So, you're the new Guardian? What's your name? First year at Hogwarts, I take it? Which House?"
…
"Ravenclaw, is it? Wyzett Lovegood... I can tell you're a diligent student, and clever enough to apply what you've learned. Good."
With just a few words—spoken almost as if to himself—Wyzett felt a chill crawl up his spine.
There was no doubt. From the instant their eyes met, the old man had used Legilimency.
That whole exchange had been questions in the open, answers in his mind—each one plucked out as soon as it formed.
His own soul labyrinth was formidable—enough to stall even Voldemort—but this old man had seen through it in a single glance.
Who was he, truly? Ghost? Spirit?
"You've likely heard my name." The old man's lips curled in a faint smile. "Salazar Slytherin. Founder of Slytherin House."
Wyzett let out a quiet sigh. If this was Salazar Slytherin himself, it was no wonder he'd been so thoroughly seen through.
He recalled the books in the library—histories of Hogwarts and the legendary Sorting Hat, a magical artifact imbued by all four founders. It was said that Salazar had gifted the Hat with Legilimency, the very reason it could sort students.
If the Hat's Legilimency still endured after centuries, Salazar's mastery must have been peerless.
Salazar stroked his beard thoughtfully. "This soul labyrinth of yours is interesting… but only that. I stand above the maze—its twists and turns can't hide anything from me. I can peer into your every thought at will."
"And besides… you're still fixated on the soul, not realizing that it, too, is merely a deeper shell—just like the body. There's something far more vital within."
Wyzett's eyes lit up. "Headmaster Slytherin—if I may call you that… is it appropriate?"
"I know what you're thinking. As a Ravenclaw, you don't bother to hide your thirst for knowledge," Salazar replied, voice deep and resonant.
"Since you're the new Guardian, you'll inevitably cross the threshold of the soul and uncover even deeper secrets. There's no need to rush. Keep wielding Ancient Magic, keep gathering its power, and in time, you'll understand everything. As for what you call me—whatever you wish."
Wyzett scratched his nose, a little embarrassed. "Then… I'll call you 'Headmaster Slytherin,' if that's all right."
"Actually, I have a question. You keep mentioning 'Guardian'—and there's the Custodis Meditatio I learned… What exactly is a Guardian? Am I supposed to shoulder some great responsibility?"
"Oh? Already thinking about responsibility, are you?" Salazar raised an eyebrow. "That's not something you need to worry about right now."
"For now, you have only one task—learn, and grow stronger. Responsibility is just an illusion. Every action a Guardian takes will, in the end, ripple through the wizarding world."
His eyelids lowered, voice casual—but a quiet confidence radiated from him, steady as stone.
Especially that last sentence—it carried a pride so fierce, Wyzett could almost feel it burning in his chest.
"Just learn, and grow stronger…" Wyzett murmured, opening his palm and clenching it into a fist.
A thought struck him—could it be that all four founders had been Guardians?
If so, it would explain everything Salazar had said: their actions shaping the fate of the magical world.
"That's a fair interpretation." Salazar clasped his hands behind his back. "Just as the one who guided us never told us what we should do. We simply followed our hearts, did what we believed in, and together founded Hogwarts."
Wyzett looked into those gray eyes, seeing a swirl of emotion—complicated, conflicted, ancient.
He remembered the history: Salazar had left Hogwarts after clashing with the other founders over teaching philosophy. That rift was the root of today's "pure-blood" ideology.
Salazar believed pure-blood wizard children were more trustworthy, while Muggle-borns might one day betray the school because of their blood ties.
"I still believe I was right," Salazar said, his eyes narrowing. "That's what it means to be a wizard, Wyzett!"
"If a wizard can't uphold their beliefs, they don't deserve the name. You might call it obsession—and you'd be right."
"Belief is the road to the summit of magic. If your convictions waver, your path splits, and the climb becomes that much harder."
"So—hold fast to your beliefs. Walk the path you know to be right. That's far more important than any so-called objective 'truth'…"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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