"So, Erwin Cavendish, tell me," Slytherin said, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his penetrating gaze on the young wizard. "What do you want from me? You've kept the truth hidden for so long—not even from Rowena. And now, you've revealed everything. What is your purpose?"
He leaned forward slightly, the ancient stone of his statue seeming to pulse with residual latent energy.
"I don't believe you act without careful reason. I may not know you well personally, but I recognize you are one to plan meticulously ahead. The fact that you've sought me out now means my existence serves a specific purpose. So, what is it you require?"
Erwin met the legendary Founder's gaze with calm, calculating directness. "Your Majesty is indeed remarkably perceptive. You are correct—you now have a chance to make amends for your past. I require your divine power."
Slytherin's expression showed a flicker of understanding. He had already suspected as much.
What could a spirit like me offer this boy now, especially when Erwin's own strength has clearly surpassed mine? It couldn't be raw magical energy. No, the only thing of genuine value Erwin would seek from me is the authority of the divine power itself—the spark I comprehended centuries ago.
Slytherin extended a translucent hand deliberately. A faint, eerie green energy swirled around his spectral form, systematically coalescing into his open palm.
He glanced down at it, complex emotion crossing his aristocratic features.
"I have one final question," Slytherin said softly.
Erwin nodded understanding. He needed Slytherin to offer this willingly and without resistance.
Analyzing divine power proved an extraordinarily arduous task. Erwin had only managed to master the Power of the Stars because Ravenclaw had allowed him to keep a fragment for extended study. Hufflepuff had granted her power directly.
If Slytherin resisted, acquisition would be extremely difficult.
"Given your current demonstrated strength," Slytherin observed analytically, "my power likely offers you minimal direct enhancement. Why do you still seek it?"
Erwin didn't hesitate. He had anticipated precisely this question. "Because your power also stems fundamentally from the Ancient Gods. After the Dragon Vein carried the Ancient Gods' power away from the East, the four of you were the four who received the greatest gifts."
Slytherin paused thoughtfully. "So, our divine power is merely a fragment of theirs?"
"Precisely," Erwin affirmed. "Even the gods you once worshipped were no exception to this rule. The Ancient Gods bestowed divine power upon this world; it is merely that the degree of control over that power varies depending on the wielder."
Slytherin released a low, dry chuckle. "I see. So, you are reclaiming the power of the Old Gods?"
Erwin hesitated for merely a second before nodding honestly. "I need every ounce of power available to face what is coming. The more of the Old Gods' power I gather, the greater my confidence in our collective survival."
Slytherin looked at the green sphere in his hand—a symbol of the power he had been so intensely proud of for millennia.
"I never imagined the energy I cherished was simply a gift from another."
More and more eerie green energy condensed, until it formed a perfect, pulsing ball of concentrated light. Slytherin looked at it one last time, then smiled—a smile that held both regret and relief.
He tossed it forward without hesitation.
The ball of light flew directly toward Erwin, offering absolutely no resistance. Erwin stood perfectly still, allowing it to approach unimpeded.
The sphere phased smoothly into his chest, and in the next moment, his aura surged violently.
Erwin felt it immediately: a new, sharp stream of power integrating seamlessly into his core. He had gained another crucial fragment.
Now, only the final piece of Gryffindor's divine power remained.
Slytherin, having transferred all of his accumulated essence, instantly became noticeably translucent. His spectral form wavered dangerously, the severe depletion of power taking visible toll even on a spirit.
Erwin reacted instantly. He summoned the Authority of Death, enveloping Slytherin in streams of pure soul energy to stabilize his rapidly fading form.
While the Authority of Death proved limited in direct combat against living foes, it was invaluable for sustaining and protecting spirits.
Slowly, Slytherin's form solidified again, though he remained considerably pale.
"That... does not feel pleasant," Slytherin exhaled heavily, the phantom sensation of exhaustion washing over him. He looked at Erwin. "So, what of Godric's power? Do you still need it?"
Erwin nodded. "Yes. But His Majesty Gryffindor has vanished completely. His divine power should remain somewhere, but I do not know the location."
Slytherin's lips curved into a knowing, faint smile. "Actually, it is right here in Hogwarts."
Erwin paused, momentarily stunned.
Then, it clicked. "The Sword of Gryffindor... and the Sorting Hat?"
"Precisely," Slytherin confirmed. "Those artifacts were infused with Godric's divine power. Traces remain within them. Whether you can successfully deduce and control Godric's power from those fragments... that depends on your own skill."
Erwin nodded understanding. He had almost forgotten about those relics.
He remained a while longer to chat with Slytherin, offering a few details on the current state of the wizarding world before finally preparing to depart.
Rowena Ravenclaw, who had remained thoughtfully silent throughout, floated behind him as they left.
As the two spirits and the living wizard departed, Slytherin watched them go, his gaze lingering on the empty corridor.
He released a profound sigh. "I hope this time... my decision was the right one."
Shaking his head with resignation, he recognized that right or wrong was no longer in his hands. With a final flicker of green light, his soul retreated into the stone statue.
He would remain here, dormant, hoping to endure until the day everything finally settled.
He wanted to see, finally, if this would end the self-amusing schemes that had plagued him for centuries.
Once they left the chamber, Rowena hesitated, her spectral form wavering slightly. She seemed to want to say something but held her tongue.
Erwin noticed immediately. He stopped and turned to face her.
"Your Majesty," Erwin said softly, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "Are you asking about Gryffindor?"
Rowena nodded, her eyes filled with lingering sorrow. "Godric... is he truly gone?"
Erwin paused, the weight of her question settling between them. He looked back toward the direction of Slytherin's chamber before meeting her gaze again.
There was no easy answer to give, only the hard truth.
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The new journey starts now.
Check out Hogwarts: I, Tom Riddle, Am a Good Teacher and help us hit the rankings! If you liked my last book, you'll love the vibe of this one. Don't forget to drop those Power Stones!
— MrGrim