The news that the descendants of Slytherin were searching for the Chamber of Secrets quickly spread, putting many students on edge.
By dinner, many upper-year students cast wary glances at Moriarty. They had no doubts about his talent, but the history of Salazar Slytherin's rejection of non-pure-blood wizards lingered in their minds.
Slytherin House already had a notorious reputation for producing dark wizards, and many feared Moriarty might become the next one.
Jericho was indignant at the hushed whispers and shot glares at those looking at Moriarty suspiciously. He even shouted at the table, trying to defend him, but Moriarty simply calmed him down and continued his meal as usual.
After dinner, Moriarty decided to head to the library, but on the way, he encountered the Bloody Baron.
It was clear that the ghost had sought him out deliberately. After confirming Moriarty's intent to search for the Chamber, the Baron spoke in his usual eerie tone.
"If you search for the Chamber of Secrets merely to fulfill Salazar Slytherin's last wish, then I assure you, you will face endless opposition and obstruction.
But if you choose to seal the Chamber forever, ensuring it never reappears, we—" he emphasized the word darkly, "—can provide you with certain... valuable information that may yield unexpected benefits."
With that cryptic message, the Bloody Baron drifted away, leaving Moriarty deep in thought.
He abandoned his plan to visit the library and returned to his dormitory instead.
The mention of "Salazar's last wish" confirmed to Moriarty that even the ghosts had misinterpreted the Chamber's purpose. Nearly everyone—Voldemort, Dumbledore, and even Hogwarts itself—believed the Chamber had been created to "purify the school."
But Moriarty knew better. Salazar Slytherin had not been the narrow-minded zealot many painted him as.
As for the Baron's offer of "valuable information," Moriarty remained noncommittal. With the Slytherin Staff in his possession, few of Hogwarts' secrets were truly beyond his reach.
What intrigued him most was the Baron's use of "we." Did he mean the other ghosts?
The night deepened, and Moriarty emptied his thoughts, eventually falling asleep.
The next morning, Moriarty woke at dawn as usual. But as he was about to get out of bed, he realized—his boots were missing!
His sharp gaze swept across the room. Jericho was still snoring, undisturbed as always. But Keith and Ralbo's beds were empty. Those two weren't known for waking up early.
A prank. And it was obvious who the culprits were.
Moriarty retrieved another pair of shoes, put them on, and made his way toward the common room. Before he even arrived, he overheard a hushed yet triumphant voice.
"I got them! He slept like the dead. Maybe that rumor is true—he inherited all of Slytherin's wealth. Look at these boots! More luxurious than most wizards' robes. I'm going to try them on... Oh, they fit perfectly."
Moriarty stopped, waiting for the other to speak. To his surprise, it was Keith who responded with a sigh.
"Ralbo, please, I implore you—put them back. Mr. Moriarty saved my life. We can't do this to him."
"You idiot!" Ralbo snapped, his voice dripping with irritation. "Didn't you listen to Marcus? The moment he gains control over the Chamber, the first ones he'll get rid of are half-bloods like us! If we don't act first, we'll be the ones kicked out of Slytherin."
He hesitated, then added, "If you're too scared, then stay out of my way. I'm taking these to Marcus—he said he'd handle the rest."
At that moment, Moriarty stepped into the common room. His gaze swept over the scene—Ralbo standing near the fireplace, wearing his boots with exaggerated pride, while Keith shifted uncomfortably.
Marcus Flint sat lazily on a sofa, rubbing his eyes, clearly annoyed at being woken up early.
Ralbo strutted toward him, deliberately lifting his legs as if to show off the boots.
"Well done, Ralbo," Marcus muttered, still groggy. "Now, take them to the Forbidden Forest—"
"What?" Ralbo froze, his voice suddenly cautious. "You said you'd handle the rest."
Marcus shot him a glare, but before he could retort, Moriarty's voice cut through the air.
"So, you stole my boots and planned to dump them in the Forbidden Forest, expecting me to break school rules looking for them and get expelled?"
Ralbo's face turned crimson. He shifted behind the sofa, trying to hide the boots still on his feet.
Marcus, however, stood up with a slow grin. "The boots are in our hands. What can you do about it? I could toss them into the forest right now—let the magical creatures get a good whiff of your scent."
"And then what?" Moriarty asked, his expression unreadable. "What's your grand master plan, Marcus?"
Marcus hesitated. He clearly hadn't thought that far ahead. But Moriarty's calm gaze only infuriated him further.
"You think you're some untouchable genius," Marcus sneered. "But do you know how many 'geniuses' die young in the wizarding world? You're just another arrogant upstart! And there are three of us—what can you do alone?"
"You're wrong," a voice cut in.
Keith stepped forward. "Moriarty isn't alone. If he needs help—I'll stand with him."
Moriarty nodded slightly at Keith before turning to Ralbo. "Unfortunately, Ralbo, you've made a serious mistake. And for that, you'll face the consequences."
His voice was deceptively light. "Did you know those boots are called karaoke boots?"
Ralbo frowned in confusion. "What—?"
Before he could finish, the boots shook.
A second later, they surged forward on their own, dragging Ralbo with them!
Completely unprepared, he tumbled forward, flailing as the enchanted boots sent him stumbling across the room.
"Wait—stop! I—AHH!"
The boots didn't stop. His legs jerked upright, separating wildly before he slammed into the opposite sofa with a thud!
Marcus and Keith watched in stunned silence.
Moriarty, unimpressed, deactivated the boots' acceleration. Ralbo collapsed in a heap, groaning.
He was lucky. If the sofa hadn't cushioned him, he might have landed in the hospital wing.
This was Moriarty's first time using an alchemy item. He noted its effects carefully—it would serve as a foundation for his future creations.
Marcus, however, looked shaken. The entire exchange had lasted mere seconds, and yet Ralbo was already down.
"What—what did you do to him?!" Marcus stammered. "That was black magic!"
Moriarty arched an eyebrow. "Black magic? Hardly."
Marcus took an involuntary step back. His hands trembled as he grabbed his wand, but Keith subtly clamped his legs together, realizing his own odds.
"Are you trying to duel me, Flint?" Moriarty asked, his tone almost amused.
Marcus hesitated. He was tall, brutish even—but he was no match for Moriarty.
Moriarty took another step forward, his voice smooth yet cutting.
"You're jealous, aren't you?" he said. "Jealous that I have Slytherin's legacy. That I'm Hogwarts' top Seeker. That no matter how much you plot, scheme, or sulk, I am simply better than you."
Marcus' face twisted with rage.
"Go ahead," Moriarty taunted. "Pick up your wand, your broom, your potions—whatever you like. But no matter what you choose, there's only one outcome.
You'll lose."