Ravenclaw was unleashing hell.
With every furious swipe, bursts of starlight erupted from her wand, scorching the air. The sheer force sent Slytherin scrambling for cover, his robes singed and his face etched with strain. Erwin hovered at the edge, eyes darting nervously—he'd half-expected a basilisk to slither out at any moment. But as he scanned the chamber, doubt crept in. This didn't match the Chamber of Secrets from the stories. The original passage twisted west to east, ending at that massive statue. Here, it snaked east to west, a twisted mirror of the tale.
Unless Slytherin had hidden a second serpent, this place was basilisk-free. And the man before him? No proud founder, just a harried figure dodging blasts, refusing to strike back. His eyes held no malice, only a weary resignation that tugged at Erwin's curiosity.
Erwin's gossip instincts fired up. There was a story here, something raw and hidden between these two legends. His pulse quickened—what scandal could bridge centuries like this?
Ravenclaw's voice cracked through the chaos, raw with betrayal. "You bloody fools—you and Godric! You knew that fight wasn't yours to join, but you dove in anyway! Do you have any idea what Helga and I endured? Scrounging for scraps of news, praying you'd make it back. And you didn't! You swore we'd stick together, Salazar—forge a new era for wizards, side by side. Forever! So why the lies? Why'd you abandon us, you self-serving wretch?"
Tears carved tracks down her cheeks, but her wand didn't waver. Blinding beams lanced out, cratering the stone floor like cannon fire. Erwin swallowed hard. Scary didn't cover it—furious witches were a force of nature.
The old tales painted the founders as bitter rivals, clashing over blood purity. But that rang hollow now. Ideologies could divide, sure, but after years of shared battles and dreams? This ran deeper, a bond twisted by loss.
Slytherin said nothing, weaving through the onslaught with grim patience. He let her rage burn itself out until her strikes faltered, her shoulders slumping. Finally, she collapsed to her knees, sobs echoing off the walls.
He approached slowly, voice heavy. "I'm sorry, Rowena. It was my ambition—my fool dreams—that dragged Godric in and shattered everything. I ruined it all."
She stayed silent, statue-still. He knelt beside her, the two of them lost in quiet grief. Erwin, who'd barged in for an inheritance, felt like an awkward intruder. Forgotten. Cheeky, that—after all, he was the one meant to claim his due.
Slytherin glanced his way at last, as if recalling a loose end. He flicked a parchment scroll toward Erwin. "Sign."
Erwin unrolled it: ownership of a quarter of Hogwarts, Slytherin's domain. No second thoughts—he scrawled his name. A familiar warmth surged through him, granting control over the dungeons and lakeside depths.
"The Heir's Ring is my true legacy," Slytherin added. "Now that Hogwarts accepts you, wield its power. Figure it out. Now go."
A dismissive wave, and the world spun. Erwin tumbled back into the corridor, staring at the blank wall.
Panic hit. The drama wasn't over! He pounded the stone. "Lord Slytherin? A bit more time? Lessons? And what about Lady Rowena—I need her guidance, and Helena's waiting!"
Silence. Erwin slumped. He'd scored prime seats for a founders' row, only to get ejected mid-climax. And they'd shanghaied his ghostly mentor to boot. Daylight robbery.
Slytherins—sneaky lot, every one.
Resigned, he trudged back to the Slytherin common room to tinker with the ring. What a letdown. Gutted, utterly gutted.
Back in the hidden chamber...
Rowena's breathing steadied, her eyes sharp again. "Salazar, I deserve answers."
He nodded gravely. "That's why I left this soul fragment. For this moment."
"Before you vanished from Hogwarts?"
"Yes—a precaution. If we fell, it would reveal the truth to you."
She leaned forward. "What happened out there? Your strength could've bought escape, at least. You weren't even on the front lines—why die like that?"
Slytherin exhaled, shadows deepening his features. "We misjudged them. Their power... we never grasped its horror. If not for the ancient wizards' sacrifices—throwing themselves into the fray—no one returns. Not even the mightiest. We were outclassed, Rowena. One tier below, but it was a gulf. Our spells? Flecks of dust against them. Godric and I couldn't scratch their hides. They operated on a plane beyond us—utterly invincible."