"The wizarding world a thousand years ago was vastly different from what it is now," Dumbledore explained.
"Back then, the persecution of wizards by Muggles was severe. Slytherin might have feared that wizards of Muggle origin would eventually side with Muggles and turn against their own kind."
By recruiting only pure-bloods, Slytherin believed he could prevent internal strife within the wizarding community and ensure that wizards wouldn't be used against each other by Muggles. This drastic approach to protecting wizardkind fit well with Slytherin's known temperament.
Ivan could almost picture the scene from those times:
Gryffindor: You're too extreme, Salazar.
Slytherin: Godric, you'll regret this.
Gryffindor: I'm the headmaster of Hogwarts!
Of course, Ivan knew from his studies that the first headmaster of Hogwarts was Rowena Ravenclaw, who had originally proposed the idea of founding a school for magic—not Gryffindor (though this was more of a niche book setting detail, and not something to get too serious about).
Suddenly, it seems like the Big Four had quite the dynamic back then, Ivan thought, imagining the frequent debates between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
I bet they played the "you'll regret this" game quite a lot.
In fact, Ivan leaned toward agreeing with Dumbledore's assessment.
After all, if Slytherin had truly been killing students, how could Gryffindor have remained his close friend?
Soon, the two arrived at the end of the tunnel.
A solid wall stood before them, carved with two entwined snakes, their eyes gleaming with large emeralds.
"It seems we've arrived, Headmaster," Ivan remarked as he stood in front of the wall. In the stillness, a hissing sound, reminiscent of a serpent, echoed through the space.
Using Dumbledore's command in Parseltongue, the two snakes parted, and the stone wall cracked down the middle, sliding slowly to either side.
What lay before them was a vast chamber. Stone pillars, each intricately carved with serpentine figures, supported the ceiling that seemed to disappear into the dark void above. The entire room was bathed in an eerie, greenish mist, casting strange and elongated shadows all around.
Ivan's gaze moved upward, where a colossal statue loomed.
The figure had a wizened, monkey-like face, with a long, sparse beard that nearly reached the hem of its stone-carved wizard's robe. Its feet, massive and gray, stood solidly on the polished floor.
"Slytherin..." Ivan whispered, identifying the statue's owner.
"Ivan Ambrosius"
Startled, Ivan looked down. Beneath the imposing statue stood a figure, its back turned to him at first. Slowly, it turned, revealing blood-red eyes that gleamed with malice. "Should I call you brave or simply foolish for coming here?"
"Tom?" Ivan said, a mixture of surprise and defiance in his voice.
"Don't call me that!" Voldemort snapped, clearly agitated. His appearance was ghastly—pale, with his skin marred by red veins and cracks that seemed to split his very body. It was clear that Voldemort was in an extremely weakened state.
"Why?" Ivan showed no respect for Voldemort, striding confidently forward. "I call you Tom because that's your name—just like Ivan, or Albus. Or would you prefer Riddle?"
With Dumbledore standing behind him as support, Ivan exuded a boldness that infuriated Voldemort.
If the situation hadn't been so tense, Ivan might have been tempted to say, "Stop it, Tom. Dumbledore's just outside."
"Enough!!" Voldemort snapped, visibly angered. The name Riddle was a forbidden reminder of the identity he had long since rejected.
"How do you know about this place?" Voldemort demanded, narrowing his eyes.
He hadn't anticipated anyone, let alone Ivan, discovering the Chamber of Secrets.
It baffled him—how had Ivan found the location and gained entry?
"Parseltongue?" Voldemort's suspicion grew as he looked at Ivan. "Are you also a Parselmouth?"
"Heh~ Who knows?" Ivan didn't give him a direct answer. Instead, he advanced further, closing the gap to just under 20 meters.
His calm and self-assured demeanor was almost enough to drive Voldemort over the edge.
"Enough talk," Ivan continued, now drawing his wand. "I think it's time we finish our unfinished duel, don't you?"
Though Ivan's manner appeared casual, his Magic Eye and Spiritual Vision were both active, alert for any signs of an attack—particularly from the basilisk, which could strike at any moment.
But Ivan was not afraid of Voldemort.
In their previous battle, Ivan had already gauged Voldemort's strength and capabilities.
If Voldemort hadn't been so quick with his Apparition, Ivan would have shifted into his Obscurus form and finished him off right then.
Of course, it wasn't too late now.
"Do you think you're going to win?" Voldemort snarled, completely enraged. With a swift movement, he raised his wand and cast Avada Kedavra.
Green light illuminated the entire chamber.
"I've been waiting for this!" Ivan countered with a Disarming Charm, meeting Voldemort's spell and once again establishing a magic link.
The air buzzed with power as the spells collided.
Just as before, Ivan quickly gained the upper hand, pushing the combined magic force towards Voldemort.
No matter how much power Voldemort exerted, it wasn't enough to turn the tide.
Then, a sneer flickered across Voldemort's face, full of malice.
"Now!" Voldemort hissed.
Splash!
Water erupted as a massive dark shadow lunged from the depths. The enormous yellow eyes of the basilisk gleamed, and its bloodstained fangs shot towards Ivan with terrifying speed.
This time, the basilisk hadn't revealed itself openly as in the original story. It had been lying in wait, hidden beneath the water.
In the shadows, Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly, his protective spell already prepared, ready to intervene at any moment.
"Get out!"
Before Dumbledore could intervene, a swirling mass of dark mist surged out from Ivan's body, crashing into the basilisk with an overwhelming force.
Boom!
The creature, easily over 20 meters long, was flung away as if it weighed nothing.
"What?!"
Voldemort's eyes widened in shock, disbelief clouding his expression.
What is this?
The black mist that erupted from the boy standing before him defied everything he knew.
"An Obscurial?"
The realization struck Voldemort, and he exclaimed, "You're an Obscurial!"
In that instant, everything clicked into place for him.
Why Ivan possessed such raw, overwhelming magic, why his spells had such unimaginable strength—it was because this child was not an ordinary wizard. He was hosting an Obscurus and controlling its power.
"Incredible," Voldemort muttered in a tone mixed with awe and fear. "There truly exists someone like you!"
Voldemort severed the magical connection between them, fully grasping the gravity of the situation.
Facing an Obscurial who could unleash uncontrollable destructive power at any moment, he regretted underestimating Ivan earlier.
"Eleven... or twelve years old?" Voldemort's voice trembled with astonishment. "You've survived, an Obscurial who has lived beyond ten years!"
When Voldemort was at Hogwarts, it had been during the height of Grindelwald's power.
Though the story of Credence, the most powerful Obscurial, was kept secret—especially in America—it remained a dark chapter in magical history.
Few outside those involved knew the true extent of that power.
Voldemort had studied the nature of the Obscurus and its host, the Obscurial, and understood its terrifying potential.
"Destruction without limit, an unstoppable force..." Voldemort thought, his mind swirling with the implications of Ivan's power.
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