Over the next few days, Aurelian found the perfect excuse to disappear from the sight of most students. Every day, without fail, he descended into the Chamber of Secrets, crossing the damp, silent corridor until he reached the hidden library that Nythoros had shown him.
The shelves were filled with scrolls that seemed untouched despite the centuries, books with leather bindings, and small chests containing glass cylinders inscribed in Parseltongue. Opening one of those volumes was like hearing Salazar's voice whispering from the past, spells that could only be cast in the language of snakes, rites that linked the conjurer to magic itself, as well as protective seals that did not depend on wands or conventional magic.
Aurelian soon realized that this knowledge was more valuable than any fortune. Obtaining a single Parseltongue magic book in today's world was virtually impossible; most had been destroyed, confiscated, or jealously guarded by families who would never share them. Here, however, he had access to the personal collection of one of the founders of Hogwarts.
Nythoros watched him silently most of the time, though occasionally he would interrupt to correct the pronunciation of a spell or tell him how Salazar had used a certain technique in his day. Those conversations became increasingly fluid, to the point where Aurelian felt that the basilisk no longer saw him only as an heir, but as a worthy interlocutor.
"You're learning fast," Nythoros said one afternoon. "But remember: knowledge is like poison. Use it wrong... and you could end up worse than dead."
Aurelian nodded, aware that every word from the basilisk carried the weight of centuries of experience.
He had read and memorized so much in those days that his mind was burning with ideas and possibilities. But there was something that even Salazar's library could not give him: the living context, the motivations and thoughts of the founder himself.
He looked at Nythoros, who was resting curled up next to the columns, and made a decision. He took the black stone he always carried with him out of his pocket: the Stone of Resurrection. He held it between his fingers, turning it three times.
The air grew thick, charged with an almost palpable energy. Before him, a figure began to materialize: tall, imposing, wearing a deep green robe with silver detailing. His gaze was piercing, as if he could see through any lie, and his demeanor conveyed the calmness of someone who had seen and understood more than any mortal could imagine.
"Master," Nythoros' voice, normally deep and firm, broke for a moment, "It really is you."
The founder's ghost slowly turned his head toward the basilisk, and for the first time in centuries, Nythoros looked younger, almost vulnerable.
"Nythoros... old friend," Salazar said with a hint of melancholy, "I didn't think I'd see you again."
Then his eyes fixed on Aurelian.
"Who are you, and why have you called me from beyond?"
"I am Aurelian Gaunt, your descendant. I inherited the Chamber and the knowledge you left here."
Salazar watched him silently, evaluating every gesture, every inflection in his voice. Finally, he nodded with slight recognition.
"My blood... after so long. Tell me, Aurelian... What became of my family and my legacy?"
Aurelian took a deep breath before answering, knowing that the words he would say would weigh heavily on both of them.
He held Salazar's gaze.
"I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Today, your name is still known... but not as it should be. In the official history, you are described as a brilliant but intolerant man who left Hogwarts because of your hatred for Muggle-borns. Most wizards only remember that part, distorted and repeated as a warning."
Salazar frowned, without interrupting him.
"Your direct descendants continued for centuries. Some were influential... others were not. Over time, the lineage dwindled and mixed. Finally, only one branch remained: the Gaunt family."
The mention of the surname made the founder's face harden.
"I have heard that name in the whispers of magic. What became of them?"
"They became the laughingstock of the magical world," Aurelian replied coldly. "The blood remained 'pure' through generations of marriages between relatives. This only caused them to lose wealth, influence... and sanity. They adopted questionable practices, obsessed with their past but lacking the greatness to understand it. They ended up living in misery, isolated, as shadows of what they once were."
Salazar closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to contain his disgust.
"And you... How do you fit into this?" he finally asked.
Aurelian lowered his voice slightly.
"My father was a wizard named Tom Riddle. Perhaps you know him. He was the last descendant with Gaunt blood before me. Intelligent, powerful... but consumed by his obsession with power and immortality. He ended up fragmenting his own soul, creating dark objects called Horcruxes, and when he tried to conquer the wizarding world... he fell."
Salazar's eyes flashed dangerously.
"A descendant of mine who became a parasite of his own arrogance. A disgrace who should not have carried my blood."
Nythoros remained silent, his gaze shifting from his former teacher to Aurelian, as if weighing the invisible burden that had just been placed upon them.
Aurelian held Salazar's gaze, not backing down.
"I am not like him. I will not follow his path. I am restoring what was lost, and I will not allow your legacy to be remembered only for its mistakes."
"I started alone," Aurelian continued. "I began to restore the family. I acquired a mansion, which I restored and filled with protective magic. I reclaimed lands, invested in businesses. I founded my own company, which is already beginning to influence the magical world through innovation. I have no family to support me, no council of ancestors to guide me... but I have learned to use what I have and create what I lack."
Salazar watched him with almost surgical attention, taking in every word.
"You have taken a path that requires more discipline than ambition... that already sets you apart from many who came before you."
He paused for a few seconds before asking:
"Tell me, Aurelian, what do you think of Muggles?"
Aurelian took a deep breath.
"Much has changed since your time. More than three centuries ago, wizards and witches around the world signed an agreement: the International Statute of Secrecy. We hide from Muggles to protect ourselves from their fear and violence, to prevent them from using us as tools or weapons. Since then, most wizards have lived in isolated communities, while the Muggle world... continued to grow."
Salazar tilted his head, interested.
"What have they done with that time?"
"They have developed something called science and technology. They can communicate over long distances in seconds, travel faster than any horse, fly without broomsticks or magic. But they have also... created weapons capable of destroying entire cities. They are ingenious, yes, but their capacity for self-destruction is as great as their progress."
Salazar remained motionless, his eyes fixed on Aurelian.
"So, their nature hasn't changed... only their tools."
"More or less," Aurelian nodded. "Some are wise, others are dangerous. That's why the Statute is still in force. Mixing our worlds would not be safe."
Salazar let out a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"You are more pragmatic than I would expect from an heir. You are not afraid to acknowledge what they are, but you do not despise them out of habit either."
Salazar moved calmly.
"In my time," he began, "Muggles feared us. They called us demons, monsters. Some sought us out to heal them, others to destroy us. My judgment of them was not born of unreasonable hatred, but of observation: a single Muggle with power over a wizard could enslave him, and a single wizard who trusted a Muggle too much could condemn his people."
Nythoros nodded slowly, remembering that time.
"But don't misunderstand my actions," Salazar continued. "I never despised a child with magic, regardless of their bloodline. It was the gift that mattered, not the Muggle lineage that accompanied it. My concern was to protect our own from a world that did not understand our existence."
Aurelian listened attentively.
"Today, the balance is different," Salazar continued. "They have grown, multiplied, and forged a vast and dangerous world. You live in an era where they are more numerous than ever. Your duty, as heir and leader, is not to repeat my steps, but to understand when it is wise to keep your distance and when it is necessary to build a bridge."
"A bridge?" Aurelian asked, intrigued.
"Yes. Some Muggles can be valuable allies. People capable of offering resources, knowledge. But the bridge must be built with foundations and with great care. If you make them out of wood, a single spark will be enough to set them ablaze."
Salazar took a step toward him, and although his body was ethereal, Aurelian felt the weight of his presence.
"The strength of a Slytherin lies not in rejecting change, but in using it to their advantage. Remember that, Aurelian."
Aurelian nodded slowly.
"I will remember."
Salazar looked him up and down, as if assessing not only the wizard standing before him, but the man he could become.
"Leading is not simply giving orders," he said. "It is understanding the needs and fears of those who follow you, as well as those who could become your enemies. A true leader does not seek to be loved or feared alone, but respected."
Nythoros bowed his head, as if those words were a lesson that still held power.
"In your case, Aurelian," Salazar continued, "you inherit more than a surname. You inherit centuries of pride, both mistakes and victories. Your task is not to erase the past, but to overcome it. If you manage to make your name inspire confidence even in those who today view it with suspicion, you will have done more than I could."
Aurelian frowned.
"What if I fail?"
Salazar smiled with a hint of irony.
"Then make sure your fall is so loud that it inspires another to rise in your place, so that the world never forgets that you were there. That is the nature of legacy: it belongs not only to one, but to all who uphold it after."
He turned to Nythoros.
"You guarded my inheritance for centuries. Now you have a different heir before you. Guide him, I entrust him to you."
The basilisk bowed its enormous head solemnly.
"I will, old friend."
Salazar turned his attention back to Aurelian.
"Don't forget this: a name can open doors, but it's your actions that decide whether they close or remain open."
Aurelian remained silent, feeling those words engrave themselves on his mind.
I just opened an account on Patreon. If you want to support me, I would really appreciate it, as you will be able to read up to 15 more chapters and find images of the characters in the story for free. Thank you very much for reading my story :D
-patreon.com/Daoistrg