Tver tried probing a few times, but Salazar never brought up his feud with Gryffindor.
Much less where Gryffindor was hiding.
According to Salazar, he had been the first to make the choice. Before even reaching the moment of death, he voluntarily abandoned his physical body and merged into the flowing magic of the castle within the Chamber of Secrets.
From then on, he guarded Hogwarts in accordance with his will, operating in a rule-bound, structured manner.
As for Salazar himself, he had long since lost any true initiative or conscious thought, existing in a state closer to instinct than awareness.
That much was more or less within Tver's expectations. He couldn't exactly say he was disappointed.
But still…
"In your current state, can you activate this badge?"
He took out the Hogwarts badge.
As if sensing Salazar's presence, faint waves of magic pulsed from it, rising and falling gently, almost like a greeting.
Salazar looked at the badge and let out a quiet, inexplicable laugh, shaking his head with a hint of emotion.
"If I'd seen this badge from the beginning, perhaps I wouldn't have gone to such extremes."
"Of course," he added, voice lifting with confidence, "I would still have shown my enemies my countless methods—just in a far more appropriate way."
He accepted the badge without hesitation.
"Activating it is easy enough. But I don't have much left to give you. The Basilisk seems to be well and truly dead, and the magic… that has to remain within the castle."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to help you as much as Helga or Rowena could."
"That's fine," Tver said quickly, rolling up his right sleeve and holding out his wrist. "What matters is whether you can remove this curse."
Salazar took his wrist with his free left hand, examining it with interest. A soft, starlike glow of magic gathered around the curse.
"This is Voldemort's handiwork," Salazar said. "From my perspective, it's likely tied to his bloodline."
After such a long period of investigation—or rather, based on what Marvolio had let slip—the truth had become clear.
The curse on the ring originated from records Voldemort uncovered among the Gaunt family's materials. That was why he had left the ring in the ancestral manor: to commemorate and safeguard that discovery.
As for the curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, it had been created using the familiar magic he sensed within the Chamber of Secrets.
Salazar nodded in approval, though not because of Tver's reasoning, but rather—
"Worthy of Slytherin blood indeed. An exquisite piece of magic, binding bloodline and curse together to achieve an effect no ordinary curse ever could."
"…Compared to hearing you praise Voldemort," Tver said helplessly, "I'd much rather know whether this curse can actually be lifted."
Salazar finished his examination and released his grip.
"If you understood how he accomplished this curse," he said calmly, "you wouldn't be asking me to remove it."
"What do you mean?"
"Bloodline," Salazar replied. "He used the Slytherin bloodline to obtain privileges within the castle that belong exclusively to Slytherin. Through that, he drew upon the castle's magic to cast this curse."
"In other words, the curse is sustained by his very existence, the castle's defensive systems, and even my own magic."
"To break it, you'd have to destroy all of that. Of course, completely erasing Voldemort himself would also work—but that would include Marvolio as well."
Tver was still reeling from the implications when Salazar abruptly changed his tone.
"However, that is only one of the curses. As for the other one, the method to remove it is actually quite simple for you now."
Only then did Tver finally let out a breath of relief.
Even resolving one curse was a victory. After all, the curse on the professorship wasn't especially dangerous. As long as his strength continued to grow, he could suppress it indefinitely.
"How simple is 'simple,' exactly?"
Salazar broke into a wide grin.
"You separated me from the castle. Do the same thing and separate the curse from your body."
Tver's eyes widened instantly. This was the first time he'd ever heard something like that.
"You mean soul transfiguration? Are you sure a curse can be separated into its own soul?"
"No, no, no." Salazar's expression turned strange. "Don't get hung up on souls. Transfiguration has no boundaries. Whatever you want to transform, that's what you transform."
"Honestly, I didn't realize Transfiguration had become this constrained nowadays."
Tver recalled the books Rowena had left him. In ancient Transfiguration, different kinds of transformations were indeed classified in extreme detail.
That was because they were constantly pushing the limits of the discipline. As its boundaries expanded, distinctions between transformations grew sharper, until learning it became incredibly complex, enough to stand as a complete magical system on its own.
Modern Transfiguration, by contrast, had been streamlined, cutting away excess to make it more efficient and practical.
It was hard to say which approach was better. But in terms of sheer potential, ancient Transfiguration clearly reached higher.
Especially when it came to dealing with curses.
"Come on," Salazar said. "I don't think I need to remind you of the techniques. What really matters is using your imagination to its fullest."
He looked like someone who had just discovered a new toy, or like a teacher who had finally found a promising student and wanted to indulge in teaching again.
"Your research into souls and magic runs deep. The only problem is that, in trying to grow stronger quickly, you've stuck too closely to a fixed system."
"Unlike us, who could freely enjoy the more unrestrained side of magic."
"But that's fine. Just believe in yourself, all right?"
Faced with Salazar's patient guidance, Tver felt, for once, like he was actually being taught a lesson.
In truth, he had already begun to notice this flaw himself and had been searching for ways to address it. He had simply started a bit late.
"All right," he said. "I'll begin."
Tver took a deep breath. Holding his wand in his left hand, he aimed it at the small black spot on his right wrist.
"Protego Vitae."
This time, however, the purpose was different. He was withdrawing the life force that had been suppressing the curse.
In an instant, the black spot swelled violently, as if it had swallowed something enormous.
The Dark Mark resurfaced, spreading across Tver's entire forearm and continuing to crawl upward without stopping.
Just as Tver was about to cast another spell, Salazar lunged forward and seized the position of the skull. His entire right palm transformed into a cluster of tiny stars.
That single action froze the Dark Mark's advance.
"Now!" Salazar shouted.
Realizing Salazar was helping him, Tver snapped his wand back toward the black serpent emerging from the skull.
For reasons he couldn't explain, he blurted out a spell he hadn't planned to use at all.
"Riddikulus!"
Even Salazar froze for a moment.
The Dark Mark suddenly spewed out a thick cloud of black mist. The mark itself seemed to wither, retracting faster than it had appeared.
The black fog twisted and tangled between the two of them.
Then—
"Boom!"
A pitch-black little imp appeared.
Its hands—if they could even be called hands—were spread wide. Its face wore a gentle smile, but set against its dark skin, it looked unsettling and eerie.
"Honestly," Salazar said, staring at the creature with a complicated expression, "your imagination… actually scared me a little."
He looked at the small imp, somehow both cute and vicious, and fell silent.
...
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