Three Months Ago – Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.
At that time, Lockhart had just left Hogwarts, and Kamar Taj had not yet been established.
The young wizards had already returned to their families for the holidays.
Apart from a few house-elves, only two people remained at Hogwarts: Dumbledore and Hagrid.
The other professors, including Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, had taken advantage of the break to return home or travel abroad.
For Dumbledore, however, Hogwarts had long become his home.
Year after year, he spent every holiday here.
He had not returned to his real home in a very, very long time.
It wasn't that he didn't want to—but every time he did, he was reminded of painful memories.
Hagrid, too, had no real home left.
His cottage by the Forbidden Forest was his sanctuary, where he cared for his beloved magical creatures.
And so, during the holidays, Hogwarts became eerily silent.
Dumbledore, as was his habit, remained in his headmaster's office, surrounded by books and papers.
The daily upkeep of the castle was left to the house-elves.
Occasionally, McGonagall or another professor would linger at the school for a few extra days before leaving.
At this moment, inside the headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat at his desk, a dark blue leather-bound book open before him.
He was studying it carefully.
This was a research document on meditation, given to him by Gilderoy Lockhart.
As someone deeply invested in the future of the wizarding world, Dumbledore naturally had to examine it thoroughly.
As he read—
The portraits of past headmasters lining the office walls began to move.
Silently.
One by one, they stepped out of their frames—
And left the office.
No sounds.
No protests.
They simply vanished, slipping away as if summoned by an unseen force.
The entire process was unnaturally quiet.
Even Phineas Nigellus Black, who never missed an opportunity to curse Dumbledore, had fallen silent.
Within moments, every headmaster had departed, leaving behind only blank paintings or simple landscapes.
Yet, Dumbledore noticed nothing.
His attention remained fixed on the meditation notes in front of him.
Then—
A new figure emerged from the largest empty portrait.
He was tall and thin.
His expression was stern, almost gloomy.
A brown wooden wand rested at his waist.
His dark green robes were embroidered with black serpents, their forms twisting and curling in elaborate patterns.
On his chest, gleaming in the dim light, was a medallion—
The sigil of Slytherin House.
There was no doubt about his identity.
He was—
Salazar Slytherin.
Using the ancient authority he had left within Hogwarts, he had commanded the portraits to leave, ensuring that this conversation would remain private.
After all, those portraits were merely fragments of their former selves—shadows of the past, bound by magic.
They obeyed his will.
A calm voice broke the silence.
"Albus Dumbledore."
Dumbledore's posture stiffened slightly.
Then, he relaxed.
Slowly, he closed the book before him and turned around.
His blue eyes met those of the legendary wizard before him.
"Salazar Slytherin?"
His voice carried a trace of hesitation.
As Hogwarts' headmaster, he was well acquainted with the founders' portraits.
But this was different.
This was not just a portrait.
"Yes, it is me," Salazar confirmed, his tone steady.
"This time, I have come to speak to you directly."
There was no small talk, no greetings—
Instead, Slytherin posed a question immediately.
"I have always been curious," he said.
"You are often praised as the greatest white wizard of this era."
"So tell me, Dumbledore—"
"What is your criteria for distinguishing white magic from black magic?"
Dumbledore didn't ask why Slytherin had appeared.
Nor did he ask about the missing portraits.
Instead—
He considered the question carefully.
He seemed neither surprised nor suspicious—as if he was certain this was truly Salazar Slytherin.
After a long pause, he spoke.
"When magic stirs evil within a person, it is black magic," he said.
"But when magic inspires kindness, or at the very least, prevents evil, it can be called white magic."
Slytherin did not agree.
Nor did he disagree.
He merely listened.
Magic was a complex force.
Everyone had their own views on what was good and what was evil.
Perhaps, he had only asked the question to understand Dumbledore's values.
"Dumbledore…" Slytherin finally murmured.
"Helga Hufflepuff would have liked your answer."
Dumbledore's lips curved slightly.
"And I am honored to have Ms. Hufflepuff's approval."
Then—
His expression hardened.
"Mr. Slytherin," he said, "may I ask where the portraits of the past headmasters have gone?"
"And—"
"What do you want from me?"
Slytherin made a slight motion with his hand.
In an instant—
His form shifted, transforming into something less solid—
A phantom.
He drifted toward Dumbledore, his presence ghostly yet tangible.
Dumbledore's brows furrowed slightly.
For centuries, the difference between portraits and ghosts had been clear-cut.
But this—
This was something else.
Something beyond what he had known.
Still, Dumbledore's curiosity was greater than his shock.
For now, he remained silent, waiting.
Salazar finally spoke again.
"I have learned much about you, Albus Dumbledore."
"You have been a good headmaster."
"But—"
"There is something I must make clear."
He lifted a hand, gesturing to the very walls around them.
"This castle… Hogwarts…"
"It was my gift to Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw."
Dumbledore gave a small nod, acknowledging the truth.
Slytherin continued.
"But that no longer matters."
"What matters is—"
"You now hold full authority over Hogwarts."
"You have even gained access to the Heritage Library."
"You have done well."
Dumbledore listened.
And waited.
Then—
Slytherin's gaze darkened.
"Dumbledore."
"A wizard has asked me to offer you a deal."
"It will not violate your morals."
"It will cause no harm."
"All you must do… is act at the right moment."
"And in return—"
"The other party offers you something precious."
Slytherin's next words were soft, yet they carried the weight of centuries.
"A chance to resurrect your sister, Ariana."
Silence.
Dumbledore's breath caught.
His fingers tightened against the desk.
His expression, which had remained so calm, so composed—
Finally changed.
==============================================
Support me at [email protected]/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
New fanfic : Marvel : The God Of Punishment System
=============================================