The Leaky Cauldron was empty in the middle of the morning. So no one commented when Ares, now wearing proper wizarding attire and well-fed, made his way over to the fireplace.
Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he called out his destination. "Hogwarts! Room 234-00."
With a burst of green flames, he was transported to the caretaker's office. It was the least secure floo in the school, as Filch used it regularly due to his inability to travel without magic. No one would notice a discrepancy at the Ministry.
Upon his arrival, the Master of Death turned himself invisible. However, it wouldn't do to be caught by a student as he wandered over to the Second Floor Girls' Lavatory.
'I'll forever wonder how the illustrious Salazar Slytherin would have felt if he knew they had turned the entrance to his chamber into a school bathroom.'
Ares put Moaning Myrtle to sleep using the power of Death's stone. He didn't want to be sold out.
Glancing around, he spotted an engraved snake on a tap over one of the sinks.
He intoned the command "Open" in Parseltongue, and the bathroom gradually changed, revealing a corridor.
He went through the corridor of secrets and the chamber door casting the scouring curse. It was unacceptable to live in filth.
Eventually, he stood at the end of a long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more serpents rose to a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.
A statue stood prominently in the likeness of Salazar Slytherin himself. The last time Ares had seen it, the majority of the statute had been ruined by erosion. When Voldemort flooded the chamber at the Battle for Hogwarts, he had successfully destroyed centuries of history.
Having inspected his environment, Ares cried out, "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."
Slytherin's gigantic stone face began moving.
His mouth opened wider and wider to make a huge hole.
A hulking mass began to stir and eventually slithered out of its depths.
'Was there something wrong with Salazar Slytherin's head? Why would you create a summoning process like this?'
"Blood… I want BLOOD!"
Ares squinted; the chamber lighting would have left him half-blind if he hadn't improved his eyesight.
"Noble beast of Slytherin… obey your oath and serve me!" He decreed, embracing his position as Lord Slytherin.
"Master...? Is that you? You are not of the same blood!" The Basilisk, tamed by Voldemort and suspicious by nature, would not submit so quickly. If it had listened to everyone who spoke Parseltongue, there would never have been such a tragic struggle between Ares and Tom Riddle in his second year.
"I am Lord Slytherin. Test my blood if you dare to beast!"
He sliced his palm with one of his sharp nails, both enhanced beyond the limits of a mortal. Without enchanted objects like the Goblin forged needle he had used for his inheritance test, it was hard for him to draw blood without injuring himself.
The Basilisk's nostrils visibly twitched as they inhaled the scent of blood. Its eyes turned red, to the extent Ares thought he'd have to kill it for the second time until a fear replaced that bloodlust as quickly as it came.
"Master! I acknowledge your blood. I am ready to fulfil my father's desires! All muddy creatures shall be killed."
Ares pondered, he really did, over whether he should let it go on a rampage. Just to see how Dumbledore would react. Without his golden boy fixing the problem in time, would he let his students die until he could teach Harry Potter a lesson? The fight would involve his position as Headmaster, and the governors might impeach him.
In the end, he sighed, "Return to your nest. Do not respond to any calls until you smell the scent of my blood again. Then, you will listen to me alone. Ignore everyone else."
The vicious snake slipped back into the hole in Salazar's face, and the hole closed behind it. It would heed his orders or be punished by the magical oath it had sworn when the Slytherin ancestor had raised it.
The current Slytherin Lord found a covered alcove and sat down to wait. Fortunately, patience was not a virtue he lacked—especially when hunting prey.
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Gilderoy Lockhart was many things. Owner of the Order of Merlin, Third class; Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League; and winner of the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row.
He was not a hero. Instead, he was a self-proclaimed coward and proud of it.
So to find himself entering the lair of possibly one of the most dangerous creatures in the wizarding world was a great shock to him. To be forced here by two young schoolboys was an embarrassment.
He projected a vain outer image because he was a narcissist. Yet people tended to forget he was a Ravenclaw, not a thick Gryffindor, since leaving Hogwarts. Moreover, his skill in memory charms was unmatched, even in professional departments within the Ministry.
They walked down the corridor slowly and cautiously until they found what appeared to be a horrifyingly large snake skin.
When faced with a possible life-and-death situation, he did the intelligent thing and fainted. The ginger boy, Ron Weasley, went to help him.
'A Gryffindor indeed. Inferior in intellect to the end.'
In a surprisingly fluid motion for someone who had consistently been thrashed at the Duelling club by Professor Snape, Lockhart snatched Ron's wand.
"The adventure ends here, boys. But don't fret." Pointing the stolen wand at its owner, he explained, "The world will know our story of how I was too late to save the girl. How you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. So..." Aiming at the boy who lived, he smiled, crying, "You first, Mr Potter. Say goodbye... to your memories. Obliviate!"
The spell was to be the peak of Gilderoy Lockhart's career. At this moment, where he nearly achieved what the Dark Lord Voldemort had failed to do, the elimination of Harry Potter was abruptly ruined.
The backfire from using Ron Weasley's broken wand sent him flying into the ceiling. The immediate effect was a cave-in. Somehow though, Gilderoy ended up on the wrong side of the rock barrier. The clean corridor had caused him to slide further into the chamber. Both he and Harry were now separated from Ron.
"Harry?! Harry!" The youngest Weasley son called.
Harry, upon hearing his best friend, responded quickly, "Ron! Ron, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. How's Lockhart?"
Harry turned around and stared at the Professor who had tried to give him brain damage.
The defence against the dark arts professor sat up and grinned before asking, "Hello. Who are you?"
"Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? I helped you with your fan mail." Harry responded cautiously.
"Really? And, um, who-who am I?" The brain-addled man asked.
Harry had a mind blank.
"Ron! The Professor's memory charm has backfired. The bloody idiot has no idea who he is!"
Before his ginger friend could reply, Lockhart picked up a rock and looked at him pointedly.
"It's an odd sort of place, isn't it? Do you live here?"
Harry quickly snatched the rock before throwing it away.
"Look, stay here, alright? Someone will come and get you soon. Ron! You wait here and try to shift some of this rock so we can get back through. I'll go on and find Ginny."
"Okay."
Nervous and alone, the boy who lived edged toward the end of the corridor and, upon seeing the door to the final chamber, hissed, "open".
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