For a moment, I just stood there—at the threshold of something ancient, forbidden, and effectively alive.
The sanctum wasn't grand like the main chamber.
It wasn't meant to awe.
It was meant to serve a purpose.
The walls pulsed faintly with greenish light as if the very stone or perhaps sealent caused an ethereal glow to illuminate the room, like veins of some sleeping beast.
Everything was meticulous, purposeful, preserved by magic that refused to let time rot it away.
A laboratory.
A library.
A sanctum of sin and intellect.
And at the far end of it all, hung upon the wall above the central table, was a painting.
He looked exactly nothing like i had imagined.
But conisdering where i was, and the fact his painting was hung here the occupent could only be one person.
However the time upon which the painting was created was clearly long before his leave from the school.
In the painting was a young adult, Salazar no doubt as he wore his signature green robes along with plenty of snake motifs and trinkets.
Except different from his depictions that survived history, the man in the painting had a full head of straight black hair, and a simple mustache and beard that while not wizardly did give off an old fashioned form a villany.
When his gaze met mine, the portrait itself moved.
"Well," he drawled, voice low and perfectly enunciated. "At last. It would seem the line has not died out after all."
My wand shifted ever so slightly in my hand. "You're Salazar Slytherin."
He smiled faintly, pride flickering across his painted face.
"The one and only. Though I suspect my legacy has been… diminished since my departure. Yet here stands one who bears the old tongue and blood. My heir."
"Your heir, huh?" I murmured, scanning the room rather than engaging.
My curiosity outweighed courtesy.
The walls were lined with tall shelves, filled to bursting with leather-bound tomes.
Some bore titles burned in ancient runic scripts, others nameless, sealed by enchantments.
A nearby table held the remains of some experiment long abandoned—anatomical sketches, faded bloodstains, and what I could only assume was once a magical creature, dissected beyond recognition.
Salazar's portrait chuckled softly.
"You have his look. The cunning. I knew my line would not fail forever. The last boy who came here… pitiful. So consumed by ego, he saw what was only infront of him and never bothered looking back."
So he was aware of riddle but, the fact that this place was not cleaned out means he never made it to this secret chamber.
I ignored him, moving toward the library.
Each row of books exuded a different flavor of magic.
Some were soaked in dark energy so thick I could almost taste the bitterness on my tongue.
I trailed my fingers along the spines, plenty were in languages i could not even begin to understnad, even those written in english were beyond my ability to ready, english of a thousand years ago was far closer to Gaelic than it was to modern day english.
But even without getting to understand the words the writers intent permeated the material as i could feel the darkness of its pages even when bound.
Topics of flesh manipulation, human transmutation, magical animal experimentation.
This collection was a treasure trove of sorts, decades worth of research into the sciences of the body all no doubt leading to the intention of acension, for a boy longing for approval to reach his mothers height if not surpass her.
I began methodically stacking the tomes on the table, pulling more from the shelves as I went.
My storage bag opened wide, the runes glowing as I slipped the books and scrolls inside, one after another.
"Careful, boy," Salazar's voice cut through the silence, sharp now. "You handle knowledge not meant for common hands. Those are relics of centuries of work—"
"I know," I said flatly, not bothering to look at him. "That's why I'm taking them."
He gave a small, incredulous laugh.
"Greedy. Good. Greed is the seed of greatness. Yet even I would not have stolen everything in one breath."
"Then maybe that's where we differ."
One shelf held sealed glass tubes filled with odd powders and suspended tissues.
Most had no magical presence any longer clearly being a failed experiment, those i left behind but any still bearing marks of magical aura were looted.
My bag swallowed them all.
"Stop this foolishness," the portrait barked suddenly.
His tone lost the teacher's warmth, snapping to command.
"You will not pillage my sanctum like some thief! You are my heir—you are to learn, not loot!"
That made me pause.
Just for a second.
Then I turned to face him.
His eyes flared with green fire.
"You stand in my private hall, take what is mine, and dare ignore my words?"
"Your words," I repeated softly, my voice low enough to make him still. "Do you even know who you're speaking to?"
He sneered. "To my heir, boy. To the child of my line who speaks the sacred tongue. To the one chosen by the blood of Slytherin itself."
I smiled then—cold, deliberate. "You're mistaken."
His expression faltered. "What?"
"I am not your heir," I said, stepping closer until the light from my wand reflected in his painted eyes. "I am Cassius Draconis. Heir to the House of Dragons."
For the first time, genuine shock crossed his face.
His painted body leaned forward, as though trying to escape the confines of his frame.
"Draconis?" he hissed. "Impossible. None are worthy of that line, how could you if we her direct descendant were not!"
The silence that followed was thick and heavy.
The faint hum of the sanctum's wards vibrated in the air, almost like a held breath.
Salazar recovered quickly, though I caught the flash of uncertainty that crossed his features.
"How... how is it that a true has appeared after so many years?"
This question did stop me, not because i had to answer but because the high and might had finally come down from atop his high horse and was in a position to bargin at long last.
"You want to know? Knowledge is valuable you know, what would you offer in exchange to know that?"
"What! What more could i offer, i have already given you everything!" The painting face contorted in rage snarling in anger.
"You gave me nothing, i took what was before me, if you want me to give you something offer something of equal value in return."
"Equivalent exchange huh... that was always Rowena's domain, not mine."
For a minute it felt like he was not going to break but when i turned to take my leave his facade broke and he finally cried out.
"Fine fine! you win, i shall give you two aincient tomes hidden long ago that you have not yet raided, in exchange that good enough for you?"
"Sure!" I agreed in a heartbeat. "While i am not entirely certain but knowing the lengths to which the magical community has gone in order to maintain a state of blood purity, many among the founders offspring have intermingled over the years, and my own existance is a combination of three that have mixed throughout history, the combination of blood with some special traits of my own are no doubt why she saw me as worthy."