Within the silver ring, its serpent swallowing its tail, the remnant soul of Salazar Slytherin stirred. To understand his re-emergence, one had to delve into his recent experiences with the Philosopher's Stone.
While the Stone residing within the ring was a shadow of the original—a lesser version born of limited resources, far from the caliber Nicolas Flamel achieved—it was still a Philosopher's Stone. And that meant the artifact could replenish the ancient soul of Slytherin himself.
Nourished by the Stone, Slytherin's translucent essence gradually solidified. However, even with most of the magic devoted to repairing his soul, a substantial surplus remained. He needed time to digest it all. Thus, he had fallen into a profound slumber, essentially "too full to be sleepy."
...
Who am I?
Where am I?
Where is my hair?
Those were Slytherin's first thoughts as he returned to awareness. The initial confusion stemmed from his recent awakening, while the last question… Well, Tom had teased him relentlessly enough that hair had become an obsession.
Fully alert, Slytherin shook his nonexistent head and burst forth from the ring.
"I, Salazar Slytherin, am back!" The return of his fragmented soul to a complete state filled him with joy, prompting him to eagerly impress Tom. "My dear grandson, behold! See your grandpa's solidified soul form? Impressive, isn't it? You… This place seems familiar?"
After rambling for a few minutes, the old wizard realized Tom was ignoring him. Frustration mounting, Slytherin finally took stock of his surroundings.
They were in a passageway. Tom stood with his back to a tapestry, staring at the wall as though in contemplation. It dawned on Slytherin—was this not the Chamber of Secrets that Godric had created? Tom finding it was no surprise.
Glancing at Tom's expression, Slytherin paused, then seemed to understand. "You are searching for something Godric left behind?"
Tom neither confirmed nor denied it. "I have tried six or seven times, but none of the rooms I entered contained anything of Gryffindor's."
Slytherin nodded. "That bastard always knew how to conceal things." He gave a disdainful smile. "But against the great Slytherin, his efforts are… lacking." Having been best friends with Gryffindor for most of his life, he knew exactly what his friend was up to, even with something as small as a hidden room.
Slytherin, still pleased with himself, suddenly noticed Tom staring at him with ill-disguised impatience.
"Oh, you little rascal… Never mind, come closer."
Tom, too lazy to argue, simply obeyed.
Slytherin brought his spectral head close to Tom's ear, as if plotting mischief. Oddly enough, both possessed the ability to communicate directly through their minds, yet insisted on this charade.
As Tom listened to Slytherin's whisper, his eyes widened slightly, as if he were overhearing something extraordinary.
Once the tale concluded, Tom looked at Slytherin with disbelief. "Are you certain?"
Slytherin simply nodded calmly. "Based on my knowledge of him, I cannot say it is a certainty, but there is no other possible explanation."
"…"
Tom glanced at Slytherin, considering. No matter how much the old man had "played" with Gryffindor in the past, trying his suggestion could do no harm. If it failed, Tom could simply tear the place apart. Even if everything within was destroyed, he would at least have raw materials. That was better than nothing.
With that in mind, Tom tried to enter the Room of Requirement once more, this time focusing on Slytherin's advice. After walking back and forth in front of the wall three times, a seamless door materialized.
...
He pushed it open and entered.
The Room of Requirement was a vast chamber, bearing a certain aesthetic resemblance to the Chamber of Secrets. However, while the layout might be similar, the styles were polar opposites.
If Slytherin's Chamber leaned toward darkness and gloom, Gryffindor's was radiant and awe-inspiring. Despite the absence of any obvious light sources, it felt as though sunlight streamed within.
The room's decorations were predominantly gold and red, but sparingly placed. Gleaming silver swords, shields, and axes were arrayed about. While these weapons were unremarkable to Tom, composed of only "average" materials, to most they would be considered divine!
A casual touch of a silver sword revealed the subtle magical aura emanating from its surface, attesting to its extraordinary nature. Examining the sword, Tom realized Gryffindor's alchemy skills were advanced.
And it seemed to extend beyond mere alchemy…
Tom suspected Gryffindor had learned Goblin forging techniques. While he couldn't ascertain the depth of his knowledge, he was sure of the fact.
As Tom explored, Slytherin had already moved ahead to the far end. Similar to his own Chamber, a mural was displayed, resembling a medieval painting. Flanking it were two tall, majestic silver lions, one with its head held high, surveying the world; the other, sharp and menacing, glaring at any who approached.
Slytherin gazed longingly at the figure in the painting—a long-haired man dressed as both a wizard and a knight.
Tom somehow appeared beside him.
Looking at the silver lions, surprise flickered in Tom's eyes. "Silver Iron?" This sturdy yet lightweight precious metal, highly malleable and with exceptional magical conductivity, was an invaluable magical material.
Of course, it was also known by another name: mithril.
"Was Gryffindor that rich?" After all, mithril isn't exactly abundant; isn't it a bit extravagant to use it to make two decorative lions?
At least, that was the thought in Tom's mind, who had been borrowing money just to attend school three years prior.
Slytherin, however, found it perfectly reasonable. "That bastard Godric was the most fond of dueling among us, and such contests often led to the victor claiming spoils from the defeated." Slytherin chuckled. "So, when he was poor, he was the poorest among us, and when he was rich, he was the richest."
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