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Harry nodded, watching the serpent carefully. "So you're saying someone would need to override those protections?"
"Not just anyone," Basi replied, tail flicking against the stone floor. "Only a descendant with powerful blood could hope to bend the wards of this castle. And even then, he would need an artifact with a deep connection to Hogwarts—a piece of the school's magic."
Harry hummed, considering what Basi had just told him. "Riddle's Slytherin's descendant. Do you think he managed to get his hands on one of the Founder's artifacts?"
Basi's enormous head tilted slightly, as if deep in thought. "It's possible. There are only a handful of items that could provide such access, items tied directly to the Founders' bloodlines and their magic. It would require an object with a potent link to Salazar himself—or another Founder—to weave a curse that could slip past the castle's wards."
Harry didn't know much about the Founders' relics. There was the Sorting Hat, of course, something all four Founders had collaborated on to give a bit of themselves to the school. Then there was Helga Hufflepuff's Map of Hogwarts, but it wasn't bound to her through blood or magic; otherwise, the System would've flagged it.
Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out the green ring he found in the Lower Chamber. It was one of the three items he'd uncovered in the hidden chamber, along with Salazar's journal and the key. He slid the ring onto his finger, looking down at the faint glow emanating from the stone.
When Harry slipped the green ring onto his finger, the same feeling, the slight tingle that usually came when he wore it—a faint pull toward the depths of the Chamber, like the place itself was somehow connecting with him.
"How about this?" he asked, holding his hand up so the basilisk could see the ring. "Found it in the lower Chamber. One of the three things Salazar left behind, and whenever I wear it, I feel like I'm…linked to this place. You think it's one of those artifacts?"
Basi's eyes narrowed, following the ring's faint glow. "I recognize that piece," he rumbled, shifting his massive body a bit closer. "That ring belonged to Salazar, yes. It was crafted to bind him to his own magic, to strengthen his connection to his own work here. The fact that it resonates with you… means Hogwarts already accepts you."
Harry was surprised, "Hogwarts accepts me?"
The basilisk inclined his head. "Yes. With Slytherin blood and that ring, you have enough authority to bypass certain protections within the castle—the same way that man did when he was here."
Harry smiled, holding up the ring for the basilisk to see. "So, should I bother finding whatever artifact Riddle used to place the curse, or can I just override it using my own authority?" He had to admit, it would be satisfying to undo Riddle's work with ease, given the trouble he caused.
The basilisk considered, its slitted eyes narrowing. "You can override it," Basi said with a tone of certainty. "That man's bond to Hogwarts was tenuous at best—blood and borrowed power, nothing more. He was not the true heir, only one born of Slytherin's line who thought himself capable. The castle's wards never recognized him in full. Your authority, however, is rooted, solid. That ring reinforces it."
Harry's gaze drifted to the ring, the green stone pulsing softly as if it were aware of his attention. "So all I have to do is tap into this authority to remove the curse?" he asked, glancing back at Basi.
"Yes. But be warned—this magic, woven as it was into the heart of the school, won't respond passively. This kind of curse is deeply rooted, fed by the darkness that lingers in places even you have yet to see." The basilisk's eyes met Harry's with an intensity that was difficult to ignore. "Such magic will resist your command, even as a true heir."
Harry nodded, eyeing the ring on his finger as he asked, "How can I tap into the wards? I don't even know where to start."
Basi's massive head tilted thoughtfully. "To engage with the castle's wards is not a matter of spells alone—it requires intent and alignment with the magic of Hogwarts itself. You must approach the heart of the castle, where its wards are woven. Only then will the ring's connection to Salazar reach its full potential. As an heir bearing his mark, the castle's magic will recognize you."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "The heart of the castle?"
"Yes. Hogwarts' wards are strongest near the Founders' primary domains—the places that bear their magical imprint." The basilisk's voice rumbled low in the vast chamber, echoing slightly. "You know where Gryffindor's legacy is strongest—his tower. Rowena's magic lies in her tower's peak. Hufflepuff's influence lives beneath the castle, in her kitchens and grounds. And Salazar's influence… right here, below it all."
"Right, so I just walk up to the wards and tell them to stop the curse?" Harry said, half-jokingly.
Basi's tongue flicked in amusement. "In essence, yes. But it's not a matter of simple commands. The wards respond to intention and ancestry. The magic embedded within them will resist if your command lacks conviction or if your bloodline wavers. However, with Salazar's ring, the wards will sense his magic through you."
Harry hummed, glancing around the chamber. "Since this place is one of the hearts of Hogwarts, and the ring's connected to my bloodline here, let's start right here."
Without a second thought, he sat down on the cold stone floor, shifting until he felt comfortable enough to concentrate. He took a steadying breath and tried to feel the wards Basi had mentioned.
His fingers brushed against the ring on his hand, the cold metal anchoring him, as he pushed his awareness outwards, letting it drift through the room, trying to reach into the castle's magical foundation.
For a moment, he sensed nothing more than the vast, heavy quiet of the chamber. It was just him, the cold stones, and Basi's steady presence nearby. But as he sat there, still and listening, he started to feel it—an ancient pulse, a kind of hum beneath the surface of the walls, like a heartbeat slowed by centuries. The ring warmed on his finger, almost as if it was guiding him to tap into that faint rhythm.
Then, something incredible began to take shape in front of him. Harry blinked, his vision narrowing as a shimmering image formed in the air, gradually sharpening until it filled his sight. It was Hogwarts—but not as he'd ever seen it. This version of the castle was built entirely out of magic.
Instead of stones and mortar, he saw wards layered like bricks, forming the walls and towers, each one humming with a different enchantment. Runes covered the structure from base to peak, running in patterns that crisscrossed each other, threads of magic woven tightly into a web of protection and strength. The castle seemed to breathe with life, its magic pulsing and shifting, each part connecting seamlessly to the next.
Harry's eyes traveled along the staircases, which seemed to flow and reshape themselves, held together by charms that allowed them to move through space. The charms shimmered faintly, their power feeding into each step, binding them to the structure around them and guiding them as they glided from floor to floor. He could see the spells embedded in the stonework, each casting a faint glow as if eager to show its purpose, an intricate network that let the stairs bend to the castle's needs.
He focused on the greenhouse next, spotting the enchanted earth and planters. Each bed of soil glimmered with a spell that encouraged plants to grow faster and healthier, feeding off the gentle magic imbued within. Magic seeped from the walls into the plants, coating the greenhouse in a soft green aura. Charms woven into the glass panels of the greenhouse shifted to catch sunlight, amplifying it to reach each corner. The magic poured into the air, blending with the natural energy of the plants.
The Great Hall appeared in the magical silhouette, its walls interwoven with enchantments for temperature control, soundproofing, and protection. Floating candles hovered above the tables, their flickering flames powered by simple levitation charms, while a barrier along the ceiling maintained a perfect imitation of the sky, constantly adjusting to the time of day and season. Spells woven around the room prevented any discomfort from the hall's high ceiling, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.
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