Chapter 127
The Revelation
The man stepped closer to Albert, raising both hands in the air as he said,
"Do not be afraid, my son! I will do nothing to harm you. Listen to what I have to say first!"
Albert froze at the words. My son? The shock nearly made him lower his wand, but his instincts screamed at him to stay wary.
He tightened his grip on his wand and pointed it directly at the man—at Salazar Slytherin himself.
"What is going on here? Where in Merlin's name am I?!" Albert demanded.
His eyes darted left, right, and behind him, searching desperately for a way out.
But Salazar's voice cut through the void:
"You will not be able to return to where you came from until you hear the truth, my boy!"
Albert snapped, his voice sharp with anger.
"Stop calling me your son! I am not your son!"
Salazar blinked in surprise at Albert's impatience and fury. Then, to Albert's dismay, the ancient wizard threw back his head and laughed—a deep, booming laugh that echoed endlessly in the darkness.
At last, Salazar's laughter subsided. Stroking his long white beard with one hand, he looked at Albert with grave dignity and said,
"My son… this place cannot be entered by anyone unless they carry my blood. And since you are here, standing before me… it means you are of my lineage."
The words struck Albert like a thunderclap. He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide, heart pounding.
But as the shock faded, his lips curled into a bitter smile.
"This is madness! Are you mocking me? How could I possibly be your descendant when my parents are both Blacks? What connection could the Black family possibly have to your bloodline?"
Salazar fell silent for a moment, then paced past Albert slowly, as if weighing his words.
Finally, he spoke.
"Very well. Listen. I created this place—or rather, the Black Door you passed through. It can only be opened by one who carries my blood. And since you are here, conversing with me face-to-face… it can only mean you are of my descent."
Albert shook his head fiercely, unwilling to accept it. He knew his lineage. Both his mother and father were of the House of Black. There was no trace of Salazar Slytherin's blood in them.
He turned to challenge Salazar outright—only to be struck by another revelation.
"Fifty years ago," Salazar continued, "a boy came here, seeking the truth about me and his family. But I sensed in him a darkness, a hatred toward mankind, as if he had grown weary of peace and longed to embrace evil. He searched tirelessly for my research, which I had left behind in that cramped chamber you entered. When I told him of his heritage—of me—he did not argue. He accepted it eagerly, as though he had been waiting all along for such a revelation."
Albert's breath caught. He didn't need the name. He already knew.
Tom Riddle—Voldemort.
Salazar stroked his beard again, studying Albert's reaction.
"I imagine you've inherited the same false impressions others have about me—that I was wicked by nature, obsessed with the Dark Arts, intent only on harming those around me. Lies! Lies crafted by my enemies in their lust for power, lies to discredit me and drive me from Hogwarts—the only home I ever had…" His voice grew heavy, then broke off. He waved the memory aside. "But let us not linger on that bitter past. It is time you heard your truth."
Albert's fists clenched at his sides.
Salazar's eyes gleamed.
"Twenty years ago… another came to this place, after touching my golden statue. At first, I thought it was the same boy from fifty years prior, come once again to demand what he wanted from me. He told me he had slain the last living heir of my bloodline, and so I never expected another soul to arrive here."
Albert's chest tightened. His mind raced.
Another heir? Not Voldemort? Then who ?
Salazar smiled, as if savoring the moment.
"I can see it in your eyes you are desperate to know. Very well. This time, it was not a boy who came to me, but a girl. Let me think… yes, her name was… Melanda Black."
Albert's breath stopped short.
To be continued…