Late Night.
Second-Floor Girls' Bathroom.
Moaning Myrtle was sobbing in a toilet, complaining about how miserable her afterlife was.
Suddenly, she heard strange footsteps.
Ivan Potter didn't slide down the pipe like Harry. Instead, he walked straight up to the sink engraved with a snake symbol.
He didn't even glance at Myrtle as he snapped his fingers.
"Alohomora · Explosive Edition."
There was no subtle click of a lock opening.
With a deafening BOOM, the stone sink entrance that normally required Parseltongue to open was kicked clean off its hinges by a blast of force, smashing heavily into the corridor wall and leaving a massive crater.
Myrtle's crying stopped abruptly, her ghostly mouth forming an 'O'. "Oh my... that was rougher than a troll..."
Ivan dusted the debris off his trousers and looked back at the stunned ghost. "Coming through. I'm doing some renovations."
With that, he leaped straight into the dark abyss of the pipe.
---
The Chamber of Secrets.
The air was thick with the rot and dampness of a millennium. The massive statue of Slytherin loomed in the center, its stone eyes seeming to flash red in the darkness.
Ivan landed without even using a Cushioning Charm, touching down as lightly as a feather.
He looked up at the statue that could give anyone nightmares.
"Come out, little worm," Ivan said flatly. "Stop playing dead. I know you're sentient."
The statue didn't move.
But a hissing sound came from the shadows.
The juvenile Basilisk (the one Ivan traumatized in Chapter 9) slithered out from the darkness. Its massive body coiled into a ball, head lowered submissively, daring not to meet Ivan's eyes.
It was completely suppressed by the mixed aura of "Voldemort Fragment + Dragon Fear + System Overlord" radiating from Ivan.
"Good. Glad you remember who the boss is."
Ivan walked over, unceremoniously stepping on the Basilisk's expensive scales as if it were a carpet, and approached the statue of Salazar Slytherin.
The statue was tall and imposing, the stone face cold and noble—Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders.
Ivan stroked his chin, looking the statue up and down, and frowned.
"Too old-fashioned."
He critiqued, "And this expression of 'I'm a villain and I'm proud' is too exaggerated. Doesn't fit my aesthetic."
[System Alert: Host has generated "Treasonous" thoughts.]
[Suggestion: Blow it up directly, or...]
"Blowing it up is a waste."
Ivan pulled out the dagger that cut iron like mud (bought in Knockturn Alley) and a bottle of "Strong Shaping Glue" he'd swiped from Potions class.
"Since this is Slytherin's Chamber, everything here belongs to Slytherin's Heir—me."
Ivan moved.
His figure turned into a black bolt of lightning, spinning rapidly around the massive stone statue.
Click! Clack! Click!
Stone chips flew.
It wasn't destruction; it was precise carving.
Ivan used "Word Soul · Micro-Control" to guide every peeling flake of stone.
Ten minutes later.
The dust settled.
The statue of Salazar Slytherin still stood there.
But...
The face had changed.
The originally cold, sinister face of a middle-aged wizard had been transformed into the face of an eleven-year-old boy.
Black hair, dark pupils, and a mouth curved into a cynical, three-parts-mocking, four-parts-careless smirk.
The stone robes were altered into a modern jacket style, and even the stone sword in its hand had been whittled down into the shape of a... wand.
This wasn't Salazar Slytherin.
This was clearly Ivan Potter!
Ivan clapped his hands to remove the stone dust, stepping back to admire his masterpiece.
"Much easier on the eyes. This will be my exclusive training room from now on."
He ignored the "Self-Portrait" looming behind him and turned toward the wall at the end of the Chamber.
There lay a massive snake relief, its mouth closed tight.
The real treasure was inside.
Ivan didn't use Parseltongue to command it to "Open." That was too classless.
He placed his hand directly on the snake's head.
"Alchemy · Molecular Displacement."
The stone snake head melted like wax instantly, turning into a puddle of golden liquid and revealing the dark stone chamber behind it.
Inside, the room was piled high with gold coins, jewelry, and ancient magical artifacts.
But Ivan didn't even glance at the wealth.
His gaze locked onto a stone pedestal in the center of the room.
On it lay a black notebook.
The cover had no decoration, but it emitted an aura that made the "Voldemort Soul Fragment" inside Ivan tremble.
[System Alert: High-Purity Horcrux Reaction Detected! Warning! This is the Source!]
Ivan stepped forward and picked up the notebook.
He opened the first page.
No diary entries. No ink words.
Only a single line of calligraphy written in blood (or perhaps red ink), the strokes cutting deep into the paper:
"Only those who possess seven souls may touch the domain of God. — Salazar Slytherin"
Ivan's pupils contracted sharply.
Seven souls?
Horcruxes!
So Salazar Slytherin was the true founder of Horcrux theory! Voldemort, that half-wit who only knew how to split his soul, was practically a toddler compared to this ancestor!
He flipped through it rapidly.
It detailed how to create Horcruxes, how to stabilize the soul, and even... how to re-merge the Horcruxes to forge "Godhood"!
"I see..." Ivan's breathing quickened. "Voldemort pursued 'Immortality', but Salazar pursued 'Divinity'."
This notebook was the ultimate Bible of Dark Magic!
Just as Ivan was immersed in the ocean of knowledge, rapid footsteps echoed behind him.
"IVAN POTTER!!"
A roar reverberated through the Chamber.
Professor Snape rushed in, wand raised, black robes billowing as he ran. He had been looking for students out of bed, saw the blasted bathroom door, and chased the trail all the way down.
However, when he saw the scene inside the Chamber clearly, he froze as if struck by lightning.
What did he see?
The statue of the Founder, representing the supreme authority of Slytherin...
Had Ivan's face?
And it was posing in that arrogant, punchable stance?
Snape felt his worldview shatter in that instant.
This wasn't just treason; it was blasphemy!
But eerily, looking at that face, Snape couldn't muster any anger. Instead, he felt... a strange sense of harmony?
As if this arrogant little bastard really was qualified to take Salazar's place.
"Professor Snape?" Ivan closed the notebook and tucked it into his jacket as if nothing happened, turning to look at the dazed Snape. "You're here to visit my new studio? By the way, the lighting here is terrible. I plan to blow up the ceiling tomorrow and install a crystal chandelier."
Snape's lips trembled, and the finger pointing at the statue shook.
"You... you replaced Salazar Slytherin's face... with yours?"
"Not just the face," Ivan corrected. "I optimized his nose shape; it was too hooked, looked sinister. The current me fits the Slytherin aesthetic of 'Noble and Cool' much better, don't you think?"
Snape took a deep breath. Then another.
He really wanted to hang this little bastard up and beat him.
But when he saw the corner of the black notebook sticking out of Ivan's jacket, his anger instantly turned into greed and fanaticism.
"Is that..." Snape's voice was dry. "Is that Slytherin's manuscript?"
"Yes." Ivan patted the notebook. "It details the technology of slicing a soul into seven pieces without turning into a psychopath. Professor, are you interested? I can let you copy a version, provided you admit I am Slytherin's one true god... oh no, Heir."
Snape's eyes turned wolf-green.
For the Half-Blood Prince, who would endure any humiliation for power, the allure of this notebook was infinite!
"What do you want?" Snape asked through gritted teeth.
"Simple." Ivan pointed to the Basilisk at his feet. "I want to take this big snake back to the dorm as a watchdog. Also, from now on, you have to write my Potions homework."
Snape looked at the Basilisk wagging its tail like a puppy, then at the notebook in Ivan's arms.
"...Deal."
Snape squeezed the word out. "But if you dare modify the statue's face to be any uglier, I will force-feed you Veritaserum."
"It's a promise."
Ivan snapped his fingers.
The massive Basilisk laid down obediently, and Ivan climbed onto its back.
"Let's go, Professor. Remember to fix the door for me. 'Reparo' will do; don't use magical glue, it's ugly."
Riding the Basilisk, Ivan swaggered out of the Chamber under Snape's complicated gaze.
At the pipe entrance, Ivan looked back.
The statue with his face seemed to smile in the gloom.
"System," Ivan asked internally, "if I fully digest this notebook, can I treat old No-Nose Voldemort's soul fragments as supplements?"
[System Alert: Theoretically feasible. However, please note the last page of Salazar's notes reads: "The greedy shall burn themselves."]
"Greedy?" Ivan chuckled softly, stroking the Basilisk's cold scales. "No, I call this 'Technical Iteration'."
"Tom Riddle," Ivan looked up into the darkness, a red glint flashing in his eyes. "Your seven-Horcrux plan is too ugly. Wait until I catch you and build you into a nine-story pagoda shape. I'll show you what 'Cyberpunk Dark Magic' really is."