Waking up early in the morning on the first day of the weekend, I let out a large yawn, confused as to why I was awake. The strange elevation of my heart rate made me think perhaps I had a nightmare I couldn't quite remember. I glanced at Val's tank, watching him coiled up inside his water dish, his head resting against the side of the glass as he slept. I couldn't help but chuckle, slowly getting out of my bed so as not to wake him.
Yesterday's explanation of the Chamber of Secrets still stuck in my mind. The feeling of apprehension and uncertainty about the enigmatic Chamber, as well as the one responsible for opening it, lingered. I instantly shook away the nagging thought pointing at myself and got dressed.
I left the Slytherin dorms in a rush, the wind whistling by my ears as each hurried step brought me closer to the one who might know more. The halls were nearly empty; the only students I saw were in groups and pairs, none wanting to be left alone in these vast corridors. I could tell they all looked at me with distrust—not as just another student they might have disliked, but now as a suspect in the attack. A wide gap formed between me and those I walked past, accompanied by hushed whispers of malcontent.
With every glare, every hushed murmur, I felt more and more sick at the possibility that they might be right. Without a word, I walked faster, bridging the gap between jogging and trying to appear indifferent. Reaching the entrance of the school, I ducked behind the main staircase, sitting back on the bench I had discovered just a year prior.
I looked up at the familiar oil-painted horizon, my gaze drifting towards the foreground—the sleeping image of an old man snoring in his wooden rocking chair. I gulped and took a breath, preparing myself for the question I would soon ask.
"Lucas Peterson…" The old man suddenly spoke, freezing me in place with shock as he leaned his head back further into his chair.
"The teachers have asked me about you…" he continued, turning his gaze back toward me, his old eyes peering through me. "I've heard of the recent events… The Chamber of Secrets has a new heir…"
I squirmed in my seat. His serious expression was filled with controlled rage, a torrent of emotion held in check by the masterful wizard. Then, suddenly, he grinned and scoffed before turning away. "It's too bad these old ears have heard very little about the Chamber."
I stuttered in confusion, wondering whether he thought I was guilty or not. "Can you tell me what you do know?" I asked. Merlin rocked in his chair slowly, facing away from me as he spoke.
"What is it you would be looking for when you found it?"
I paused, unsure what I could do if it truly was me while sleepwalking—a condition I sometimes had during nights of magical release. 'It shouldn't be me. It can't be me. But if it is…'
With an answer in mind, I looked back up, now seeing Merlin staring at me again. I jumped at his silent gaze before shaking off my surprise.
"I'd stop the creature itself, removing it as a tool for this madness."
Merlin silently stared at me for a few moments before slowly turning his chair around, his hands placed on his lap, interlaced fingers tapping at his knuckles while he rocked back and forth.
"It has been labeled a monster… Could you slay such a beast…? Or would you falter in your distress…?"
My breath caught in my throat. The idea had never once crossed my mind. Of all the creatures I had seen and met, none were beyond reason.
"You must not think of your own life while planning such a task…" Merlin muttered, raising his brow while leaning far back into his chair. "You must think of those who will remain after your actions…"
I bit my lip, Merlin's wisdom shaking me to my core, opening my eyes to what I had ignored. After some time, I nodded, silently accepting his words while I continued to ask him questions.
"What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Merlin took a deep breath, his fingers now gently resting on his knuckles, his gaze moving past me into the far distance.
"When I was first a student here… I was praised as a prodigy of the next generation…" he suddenly began, his half-closed eyes lost in the past. "Salazar's generation. I was his student, you see…"
As Merlin continued telling his story, I felt as if I were there with him, the imagery in my mind weaving together to form the scene vividly.
In a personal training and research ground, built under the guise of the boathouse, a young Merlin glanced behind him to check for any prying eyes. After his communication with Muggles had been revealed, his previous friends and confidants had all but abandoned him. Looking back at the wall, his muscle memory placed his wand in the perfect spot and waved it. With uninterested eyes—ones that had seen this phenomenon many times before—he lowered his wand as the brick he touched slowly turned into a serpent.
It slithered down the wall before curling its tail around a chain, rattling it. The young Merlin waited a few moments before holding the stone snake in his hand and placing the tip of his wand into the snake's mouth. With every burst of energy from the wand's tip, the snake rattled its tail in response. After two rattles, he turned the snake upside down in his grasp and removed his wand, trailing it down the snake's belly. The chain rattled faster and faster before abruptly stopping as his wand reached the wall.
The snake was pulled back in by the chain and reformed into a brick while the rest of the bricks morphed and slithered into a mass of snakes, wriggling about. Merlin held his breath before closing his eyes and pushing himself through the writhing mess of stone creatures. On the other side, he shivered with a sigh, glancing at the stonework behind him as it solidified back into a wall.
"Always hate that part…" he muttered, looking ahead at the dimly lit stone staircase leading further down.
As young Merlin descended the damp stone steps, the sound of hissing emanated from below—the voice of his teacher. At the base of the stairs lay a large wooden door, a lit torch on either side illuminating the royal craftsmanship of Salazar's house. A snake coiled around the Hogwarts shield, other snakes lining the door's edges, accenting it against the gray granite.
"Master?" Merlin asked, knocking on the door. The sound of hissing froze mid-sentence. A few seconds of silence followed before cushioned footsteps approached the door, which then flew open. There stood a tall man, seemingly in his late fifties, dressed in dark robes with glittering gold accents and a single Slytherin pendant around his neck. He looked down at Merlin, raising a brow with his judgmental gaze while placing his hands behind his back.
"So, have you come to renounce those bothersome rumors surrounding you?" he asked, walking back inside the dark room.
Merlin nervously followed, glancing around the personal study Salazar had built for himself. Beakers, bubbling cauldrons, and vials filled with dubious liquids of all sorts of colors and smells cluttered the space. Open books and unfurled parchments lay strewn about on desks and chairs.
Amidst the chaos, a single carved-out portion of the table stood out. Candles flickered around a box covered neatly with a sheet. Salazar stood in front of it, his back turned to Merlin, waiting for him to speak.
Merlin cleared his throat, trying to muster the last bit of courage he had, de
spite not being a Gryffindor.
"The rumors are true… Master."