Vizet nodded eagerly, then reached for his notebook and began scribbling rapidly.
Salazar's words were nothing short of illuminating.
Even if he couldn't fully grasp or apply them just yet, Vizet knew they would serve as crucial notes — seeds of insight to interpret and revisit in the future.
Still, one question tugged at the edge of his mind — one that hadn't quite found its answer.
Would four friends who once shared the same vision really separate so completely just because of a difference in philosophy?
As if hearing his thoughts — no, because he was hearing them — Salazar responded, voice calm and probing.
"Those matters belong to the past. So… do they still matter?"
His tone sharpened slightly. "Hogwarts still stands. That alone proves I made the right choice."
The confidence in his words was immovable, carved from something deeper than pride.
Vizet looked up, meeting his gaze. A small smile crept across his lips as he asked, "If I may ask… Founder Slytherin, what exactly is your state now?"
Salazar gave a short chuckle, one brow rising with faint amusement. "Trying to figure out whether I'm a ghost or a preserved soul?"
He smiled as well — wry and knowing. "Such a cunning little eagle... But some truths, my boy, you'll have to uncover for yourself."
Vizet nodded at once. "Forgive me. I am curious, that's all."
"You passed the first round of the trial unharmed," Salazar said after a beat, the quiet approval in his voice unmistakable. "That's a good accomplishment… So, in return —"
He lifted his hand ever so slightly.
"— I'll give you a reward."
Vizet's eyes widened. He gripped his quill a little tighter, sitting up straighter in a posture of polite attentiveness, a bright and eager student to his ancient professor.
"Founder Slytherin — thank you, truly. I'm very grateful," he said, bowing his head slightly.
Salazar's eyes darkened with memory.
"Hogwarts…" he murmured, almost to himself. "It's been a long time since anyone called me 'Founder.' A very… long time."
He studied Vizet once more, this time with a deeper curiosity — no longer just a founder evaluating a student, but something more personal.
"The new guardian is clearly no ordinary wizard… From your physical constitution to the burden carved into your soul — I can feel the uniqueness in you."
He stepped forward again, slowly, and continued in a tone half marvel, half calculation.
"Anyone willing to approach you… anyone who chooses to accept you, seems to open up without resistance. There's something in your presence — some instinctive trust you inspire."
His gaze narrowed slightly. "I imagine you're quite popular at school, aren't you?"
Vizet smiled, almost sheepishly.
"Maybe I'm just lucky," he replied. "The professors have been generous with their guidance, and most of my classmates… they treat me kindly, too."
"Is that so?" Salazar gave a short, thoughtful cough, straightening like a professor about to deliver a lecture. "Then back to the reward. Here is a little question. Suppose I have a box..."
He snapped his fingers.
A wooden box appeared in mid-air and floated gently down into his hands. It was beautifully crafted, engraved with an elegant, snake-shaped carving, and sealed with a small, ornate lock.
"This box," he said, lifting it slightly, "is locked in such a way that only I can open it. No one else — not you, not any other wizard alive — can break its seal. So… can you say with certainty that there is a Billywig inside?"
"A Billywig?" Vizet frowned, brows furrowing in thought. "Founder Slytherin, how could I possibly know that — just by looking at a locked box?"
"Just speak your mind," Salazar encouraged, a gleam of appreciation flickering in his eyes. "It's refreshing to converse with a Ravenclaw. Your kind always manages to consider the question and the idea behind the question."
"In that case…" Vizet murmured, fingers tapping his notebook, "Unless you open the box in front of me, I can't accept that there's a Billywig inside. I just can't believe it."
"Oh?" The light in Salazar's eyes deepened into open admiration. With a flick of his fingers, the lock clicked open.
He glanced inside, closed the lid again, and said calmly, "What if I told you that the Billywig in this box is strikingly beautiful, its whole body shining like sapphire?"
"I still wouldn't believe it!" Vizet shook his head without hesitation.
Salazar chuckled softly and stroked his beard, amusement plain on his face. "And if I told you that this Billywig is astonishingly fast — nearly as quick as the Golden Snidget?"
Vizet remained firm. "I still don't believe it."
"What if I described it in even more detail?" Salazar pressed, clearly enjoying himself now. "Say… the Billywig is about five inches long and has a small notch on its left wing?"
Vizet folded his arms. "Even then, I wouldn't believe it. I won't let my belief be swayed by mere descriptions."
Salazar gave a deep laugh, one that carried warmth rather than ridicule. "This isn't belief, cunning little eagle. This is Ravenclaw-style trickery, and I've seen quite a bit of it in my time!"
He leaned forward ever so slightly. "But tell me, then — why? I gave such a vivid, detailed description. Why do you still refuse to believe there's a Billywig inside my box?"
Vizet replied, "Because you only told me. You didn't show me. I have to see it with my own eyes before I can accept it as true."
He paused. Something sparked in his mind.
Wait a moment…
A sudden wave of inspiration struck, and Vizet sat up straighter, as though he'd just glimpsed a hidden path in a forest of thought.
"Founder Slytherin… may I interpret this in another way?" he said slowly. "What if each of us… carries a box with a Billywig inside?"
He searched Salazar's face for disapproval, but seeing none, he pressed on.
"It's what we call the soul… the thing that makes us who we are. And it's different for each of us."
He fumbled a bit as he spoke, choosing his words carefully.
"The soul… it can't be opened by anyone else. Only the owner can truly understand it. So the Billywig you describe — that's the one you see in your box."
His voice steadied as he continued.
"But the Billywig I see… it would be different. Which means — no matter how detailed your description is, no matter how vivid — it still won't match what I see in my own soul."
He finished with a breath, as though something profound had just taken shape in his mind.
In that moment, something shifted within him — subtle, yet unmistakable.
It was as though he'd brushed the surface of something vast and hidden. As though the threshold of the soul had briefly come into view, shimmering just beyond reach.
"To grasp this so quickly..." Salazar's smile deepened, and he gave a slight nod of approval. "It seems the new guardian has remarkable potential."
"Yes, that's precisely the truth."
"I could never truly tell you what I've discovered within myself," he continued. "If I share too much, the consequences could be worse than you imagine…"
"You might believe my interpretation over your own and begin to doubt what you see. You could start thinking your understanding is flawed — and in doing so, stop trusting yourself."
"When that happens… mediocrity follows. Because a person who doesn't believe in their own soul, in their own perceptions, can never walk the path of conviction. Let alone live by it."
"I see…" Vizet murmured, carefully writing down the final paragraph of insight in his notebook. He exhaled slowly, as though his mind had just finished climbing a steep hill. "Founder Slytherin, I've truly learned so much. I don't even know how to thank you."
"You want to thank me?" Salazar turned, stepping lightly up the winding serpentine staircase.
With measured grace, he ascended until he stood once more upon the ancient throne.
"Then complete the next round of tests."
Vizet straightened. He gripped his wand reflexively and glanced around the chamber. "The next round? Will it take place here?"
"Don't be so tense!" Salazar leaned his head lazily against his hand and gave a deliberate yawn. "Isn't it the end of your school year? It's time you had a proper break."
"The next challenge," he said, "involves my pet. It still roams Hogwarts, faithfully fulfilling its age-old duty."
"You may choose to defeat it, kill it… or tame it."
He looked down at Vizet, eyes sharp. "No matter which path you take, I want to see what you're capable of. Whether you bring back part of its body — or gain its trust — what matters is that you return to me through the Mirror of Erised."
Vizet hesitated. "No other clues?"
"Let me think…" Salazar tapped his lips with his long, tapered fingers. "You may not ask the professors for help. You must rely on yourself to uncover the answer."
Vizet narrowed his eyes. Something about the way Salazar had said yourself struck him as deliberately layered.
"You can interpret that however you wish," Salazar said, clearly sensing Vizet's thoughts. His smile turned enigmatic. "But the time has come for you to return."
Vizet took a deep breath, composed himself, and said solemnly, "Understood."
"Then go."
Salazar raised one hand in farewell as the staircase beneath him began to shift once more — coiling back into its original, stone-carved form. The throne settled into stillness.
"Oh, and one more thing," he added. "I'll tell you what the reward for this test will be."
"It's related to controlling Geas — something you need quite urgently, don't you?"
"Geas…?" Vizet echoed, his brows lifting. It was a word he had never encountered before.
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Note: The author doesn't do into any detail about the reward, so I'm keeping it as Geas until I find a more appropriate word.
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