Rowena Ravenclaw frowned deeply. "Why is this happening? It doesn't align with our projections at all!"
Salazar Slytherin replied gravely, "I don't know, but it was utterly terrifying. I left this remnant of my soul behind to reveal the truth of that battle—and its horrors. With the aid of Great Britain's ancient wards, we held the upper hand at first; we'd even devised a way to eradicate them. But at the critical juncture, he appeared. He didn't perish—or rather, what Merlin destroyed was merely a decoy, a false vessel. The true one had been lurking, biding his time. Our mightiest wizards were locked in the final clash and never sensed his approach. He struck from the shadows, shattering the wards and routing us completely. Britain's greatest wizards sacrificed themselves, weaving their lives into a desperate barrier that held the line. We prevailed, but the threat lingers. Rowena, they'll return—one day, they will. Britain lacks the strength to repel them again, and the wider wizarding world has none to spare. We must shatter this stalemate."
Ravenclaw's brow furrowed tighter.
A sudden realization dawned on her. "You mean...?"
Slytherin nodded. "Precisely—him. You've been watching him closely; surely you've sensed it."
Ravenclaw inclined her head. "Indeed. He bears Merlin's bloodline, intertwined with his own. Enemies by nature, yet they harmonize within him in a delicate, improbable balance. It's astonished me."
Slytherin continued, "That's our lifeline—our faint hope. It's the design of Britain's seers. I lack the details, but I know they're orchestrating a grand strategy, vast in scope, with him as the central piece. He can tip the scales, ushering in a new era. Observe the timeline shifting forward; he's the variable they foresaw, the disruptor. Only through utter upheaval can this cycle break."
Ravenclaw's voice sharpened. "You're all mad! You can't ignore how reckless this scheme is!"
Slytherin met her gaze steadily. "We know, Rowena—we all do. But what choice remains? Eternal repetition, trapped in this limbo? Your presence here, conversing with me, proves the winds have shifted. We must wager everything."
Ravenclaw hesitated, her expression troubled. "And if he falters? If he fails, there's no second chance."
Slytherin's tone grew icy. "He won't. He can't. The weight of our world's hopes rests on him—he's our sole path forward. Even in defeat, the realm would crumble alongside him, but at least we'd have acted, we'd have dared change. I'm weary of this existence, Rowena. Utterly weary. Our error demands atonement, lives if necessary."
Ravenclaw fell silent, then exhaled softly. "Very well—I can't dictate from beyond. You may be right. I divined his future once, but it yielded only shadows. No clear path for him, or you. Success eludes me. But I'm long dead; the worst is oblivion for my soul. Seeing you again... that's reward enough. Perhaps this time, victory awaits. I only pray he won't become another dark tyrant like Voldemort."
Slytherin let out a low chuckle. "No, he's no Voldemort—their essences diverge entirely. I can't fathom how Britain's enchanters forged him, but his path is wholly his own: a radical break, all or nothing."
Ravenclaw nodded. "Let's hope so. Godric—did he leave a soul fragment?"
Sorrow flickered in Slytherin's eyes. "No. He was certain of his return, so he made no such provision."
Ravenclaw's gaze softened, tinged with red. "Can he truly return?"
Slytherin replied, "The seers' calculations suggest it's possible. The wizarding world is frail now; it craves greater power. If that boy ascends to the pinnacle, he might achieve it—for his sake, and ours."
Ravenclaw nodded resolutely. "And your next move? Remain here?"
Slytherin affirmed, "Yes, until the moment ripens. Follow the boy, witness this evolving magical realm, observe him. You may glimpse a brighter horizon."
Ravenclaw smiled faintly. "He's a fascinating lad—I hold him in high regard. A touch naive, though; his strategies intrigue, yet they're riddled with gaps by my measure. Still, among his peers, he's a prodigy."
Slytherin laughed. "Rowena, not all match your intellect. I've seen his deeds in Slytherin—ambitious, cunning, resourceful. And unyielding when it counts."
"No," Ravenclaw countered, "he's Ravenclaw through and through: erudite, inquisitive. Godric's battered old Sorting Hat must be addled with age to place such promise in Slytherin. As I always said, entrusting a wizard's future to a frayed relic is absurd. Godric loathed Legilimency, yet he embedded it in the Hat for sorting. The irony? Even that rudimentary probe couldn't pierce the boy's Occlumency. Utter farce."
Slytherin said nothing.
What none knew was that he, too, had woven the Legilimency into the Sorting Hat.
In those days, his skill hadn't reached its current, formidable heights.
He'd never anticipated a pupil like Erwin.
What eleven-year-old novice wielded Occlumency?
It was a Slytherin catastrophe, one they'd never publicly admit.
...
Guys, I hear you. I know the recent naming confusion has been incredibly frustrating and ruined the reading experience for many of you. I sincerely apologize for that.
I have gone back and corrected all mistakes in the last 200 chapters. Moving forward, I will double-check every release to ensure this doesn't happen again. If a mistake still slips through, please drop a comment on that specific paragraph, and I will fix it immediately.
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—MrGrim