13 Salazar Slytherin

As the room plunged into darkness, Malach found himself in a place that defied conventional description. It was neither a room nor a defined space but an endless expanse of inky blackness that stretched out before him.

"Well, this is odd," Malach remarked, his voice cutting through the silence.

Taking a moment to process his situation, he realized that he had been transported to a realm unknown to him. It was a disconcerting feeling, but one thing was clear—it wasn't too difficult to navigate through the darkness.

As he ventured deeper into the abyss, Malach's keen eyes detected a faint, beckoning green light in the distance. Intrigued, he decided to follow it. To his amazement, the green glow seemed to grow brighter as he advanced, illuminating his path through the boundless dark.

However, what materialized before him defied his expectations. It wasn't merely a green light; it was a figure—a person, surrounded by shelves, an alchemical laboratory, and a profusion of herbs, all sharing the same spectral form as the person. It resembled a ghost or a spirit.

Determined to break the silence, Malach addressed the enigmatic figure. "Hello, do you know where I am?"

The ghostly figure, bearing a striking resemblance to Salazar Slytherin, the co-founder of Hogwarts, froze in place. It had been countless years since Salazar's departure from Hogwarts, and he was presumed missing.

"Ah, finally, someone is here after all these years. I had thought that the family had forgotten or abandoned the tradition," the ghost-like figure responded. "And who might you be, young man?"

Malach, maintaining his composure, replied, "Malach Slytherin."

A spark of excitement gleamed in the ghostly figure's spectral eyes. "Ah, yes, I sense a strong connection between us. Pray, what year is it now?"

"It's 1989," Malach answered.

The ghost-like figure stroked his spectral beard thoughtfully. "So, nearly a thousand years have passed since I departed."

He turned toward Malach, a smile forming on his spectral visage. "You must be my descendant. It's quite a surprise that the family has upheld the tradition for so long. I suppose the family's resources have grown over the years. Gathering the materials for the ceremony took me an entire year during my time. But I assume it's now a matter of expenditure, isn't it?"

Malach shook his head. "No, not quite. Most of the ceremony's resources are kept in the family treasury at the castle. They cultivate the necessary ingredients and elixirs there, and it's said to be the highest due to the purity of our blood."

"Hmm, and how are the other three families faring? I'm sure you've already deduced my identity—I am Salazar Slytherin. While, by generational terms, I might be considered your ancestor, I don't place much importance on formalities between us. Shall we address each other by our first names?"

Malach readily agreed, realizing that this peculiar experience called for informality. He then asked Salazar, "Do you have any idea where we are right now?"

Salazar replied, "We are inside the space of the ring. It activated when you touched the orb in the fountain, after the ring absorbed all your blood and granted you a solid foundation."

Malach, still puzzled, checked his system, which had just delivered a notification.

[Chat has been activated]

[Bloodline abilities have been activated, and lifespan has increased due to the contract with Familiar Basilisk]

Seemingly nonchalant, Malach remarked, "It appears my abilities have been activated, and my lifespan has increased. Is this a normal part of the process, Salazar?"

Salazar's spectral form seemed agitated. "Normal? No, that's far from normal. None of this happened to me or the other three founders."

Confused, Malach asked, "What do you mean? Isn't this supposed to be part of the inheritance?"

Salazar's demeanor shifted, and he looked almost sad. "You have achieved something remarkable, Malach. You've traced the bloodline back to its very first possessor. Your talent far surpasses ours. Do you understand the implications of this?"

Malach, intrigued yet unsure, inquired, "What prevents a wizard from reaching that last step toward godhood, Salazar?"

Salazar replied, "It's a combination of a firm will, bloodline purity, and talent. Without all three, ascending to that level is impossible. So, how talented are you?"

Malach pondered this for a moment before responding, "I have 100% bloodline purity."

Salazar's eyes lit up with excitement as he produced a spectral orb. "Place your hand on this, Malach."

The orb's numbers began to climb rapidly.

1%

5%

20%

45%

51%

60%

But then, the progress slowed, hovering at 99%. Just when it seemed stuck, the orb radiated a golden light and displayed a new number that thrilled Salazar.

100%

Salazar gazed at Malach with intense fascination, his obsession almost palpable. He seemed as if he wanted to dissect Malach and study him thoroughly.

Unnerved by the intensity of Salazar's gaze, Malach commented, "You're giving me the creeps, ancestor. Can you ease up on the staring?"

Salazar withdrew his spectral hand and placed the orb on his desk. He turned back to Malach, his expression shifting once more, this time to one of melancholy.

"Do you realize what you've achieved? You've traced the bloodline back to its very first possessor, Malach. That means your talent is on par with—or perhaps even surpasses—the very first Slytherin."

Malach, intrigued and apprehensive, inquired, "What talent level would be required to reach that step?"

Salazar looked at him gravely. "You would need to be as talented as me or Godric and the others. But I'm sure your generation will achieve it. It seems the prophecy of our time is coming true."

Malach was about to ask Salazar about the prophecy when he abruptly stopped. Instead, he gestured for Malach to continue.

"Now's not the time for that," Malach said. "But what do I need to do to accept your inheritance and knowledge?"

Salazar smiled. "You merely need to undergo a trial of will and accept my knowledge. However, the knowledge won't be instantaneous; it will align with your current magical capacity—your mana."

Malach weighed the benefits and drawbacks and concluded that the advantages far outweighed any challenges he might face.

"I accept."

Salazar nodded in approval. "Excellent. Now, it's time for the trial of will."

With a flick of his spectral form, Salazar struck Malach on the head. As Malach felt himself falling, he muttered, "Not again..."

And then, everything faded into darkness once more.