Salazar Slytherin!
Hearing the name spoken aloud, Dumbledore felt his heart sink.
He glanced at Jason standing smugly behind Salazar, filled with an unspeakable fury.
No wonder Lupin had come to him to confess—disturbing the rest of Hogwarts' founders was an act of ultimate desecration.
"Surprised?" Jason said. "With just a diluted Dionesium factor and a little dark magic ritual, your founders can serve me just fine."
As he spoke, he made sure to flaunt the vial of green liquid in his hand.
Dionesium—a liquid metal from the DC Universe that granted immortality and perpetual regeneration.
Bringing down Hogwarts? It was practically child's play.
Meanwhile, Salazar seemed to be acclimating to the feeling of being back among the living. He stretched out his hand expectantly, waiting for something, but nothing came. A look of displeasure flickered over his skeletal face.
"My wand… where is it?"
Jason didn't know the answer, but the dark wizard, Gibbon, lying prostrate on the ground, provided it.
"Master Slytherin, your snakewood wand was taken by descendants and buried outside of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in America!"
"America?"
Salazar sneered, "Another petty nation that splintered off from the Holy Roman Empire? No matter—I'll retrieve it myself later."
He turned, his gaze resting on Dumbledore, who was ready and waiting.
"Consider yourself lucky, Headmaster. Facing me without a wand means you might live a few minutes longer."
Salazar's tone was indifferent. "By the way, Hogwarts' current headmaster, are you pureblood or half-blood?"
"Does it matter?" Dumbledore replied, uninterested in conversing with this desecrated revenant. Despite his remarkable history, Salazar was now nothing more than an undead creature who belonged back in his grave.
Placing his fingertips on the Elder Wand's tip, he separated his hands slowly. A string of flames sparked to life, quickly expanding into a blazing wall that encircled everyone on the bridge.
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore set the fire to surge, sparks crackling into the sky like reverse meteors.
Gradually, the meteors formed a massive vortex, a city of flames suspended overhead, poised to incinerate all darkness within.
"That's Fiendfyre!" Gibbon shrieked, recognizing Dumbledore's infamous spell, a nightmare for Death Eaters.
"Fiendfyre? That's clearly Gubraithian Fire." Salazar sneered. "The modern wizarding world is in ruins if they can't even distinguish spells by name."
Gubraithian Fire, also called Everlasting Flame, was a fire that would never extinguish.
Even in ancient times, it was an exceedingly powerful enchantment.
However, to Salazar Slytherin, such power wasn't insurmountable.
Despite his skeletal appearance resembling a candle in the wind, his ancient magic ran deep and boundless.
Salazar extended his hand into the raging wall of fire, casting without a wand.
"Conflagration Conversion!"
Boom!With a single word, the crimson flames transformed, flickering with a sinister green hue, consuming the Fiendfyre entirely. The green fire, now malicious, spilled over the bridge, crashing toward Dumbledore like a mercurial flood.
And within the eerie green blaze, an army of fire-born creatures emerged: Dementors, trolls, werewolves, acromantulas…
These fiendish creatures, fanged and bloodthirsty, honed in on one target.
Dumbledore.
"Do you see the difference between us now, Dumbledore?" Salazar's voice was cold. "You're nothing but a mere mortal born in the age after mine!"
A sheen of sweat appeared on Dumbledore's forehead—Salazar's power was far beyond his expectations.
This ancient magic, long lost to time, came to Salazar effortlessly.
The green fire surged forward, inching close.
"Expecto Patronum!" Dumbledore thrust the Elder Wand into the ground. A sharp cry pierced the air, and a majestic phoenix rose up, enveloping him in a blazing aura. The cursed fire wailed, unable to pierce the Patronus's shield.
The phoenix spread its wings, singing with radiant power as it dispersed the green flames and obliterated the summoned creatures in an instant.
As the Patronus faded, Dumbledore's breaths grew heavier.
Neither wizard had gained the upper hand in this first clash of legends.
Jason frowned. "That's it?"
"Muggle, watch your tone," Salazar hissed. "Don't think that a mere soul-binding ritual ensures your safety."
Jason raised his hands, feigning apology.
"My apologies, great wizard. I just think this pace is inefficient." He smirked. "I lack the patience to watch you duel Dumbledore to the bitter end."
A quick, decisive strike it would be!
Salazar sneered but didn't argue. He raised his arm toward Dumbledore.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding green light surged forth, sharp and swift, carrying a cacophony of whispers—like an unseen specter of death racing toward Dumbledore.
This Killing Curse was unlike any Dumbledore had ever encountered, its power beyond anything he'd imagined, the green beam coursing like a flood of souls.
Dumbledore couldn't take it head-on; he spun around, his robe billowing as he vanished.
When the spell passed, he reappeared in the same spot.
Having narrowly avoided death, there was little relief in his heart.
For the ground had begun to tremble once more. Behind Salazar, two new coffins were rising from the earth.
Emblazoned with a hawk and a badger.
It was over…
At that moment, Dumbledore felt a chilling despair.
Jason, with a familiar flick of the wrist, uncorked another vial. Two drops of Dionysium floated out and merged with the new coffins.
As they opened, darkness billowed out once more. Two figures appeared.
One figure was tall and slender, a skeletal frame that retained elegance and poise even after a thousand years.
Clad in blue robes, she waved her hand, dispersing the dark mist with a touch of disdain and amusement in her voice.
"Hogwarts, you have been defiled."
Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders, had returned.
The other figure was shorter than Rowena, more robust in build, her yellowish robes draped loosely around her frame.
Though revived, the soul flames in her eye sockets flickered with confusion, as if she couldn't fathom her new form.
Helga Hufflepuff, another of the four founders, had come back.
"Sorry, Dumbledore," Jason shrugged, "I couldn't find Gryffindor's remains. Otherwise, I'd have made sure to complete your little reunion."
Dumbledore clenched the Elder Wand so tightly it creaked.
This blatant disregard for the dead had pushed him to his limit.
But now wasn't the time to confront Jason—the crisis before him was greater than ever.
A suffocating pressure surged toward him as he beheld the three founders.
He remembered the prophecy.
From beginning to end, from yesterday to tomorrow.
The shadow of three dark lords would encompass the castle.
"So that's what it meant." Dumbledore forced a bitter smile, his understanding dawning.
He had misjudged Bruce.
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T/N: uhhh THE GIANT SQUID ITS GONNA COME IN CLUTCH FR also IT WAS A METAL huh this is a first I've heard of it, oh well cool stuff!