The castle was quieter on weekends.
Not silent—but softer.
Less watched.
Perfect.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Abraxas Malfoy asked, his tone measured but edged with curiosity.
"In time," I replied calmly, walking ahead without slowing.
The corridors twisted deeper into the castle—beyond where most students ever bothered to explore.
Hidden passages.
Forgotten doors.
Secrets layered upon secrets.
Hogwarts was not merely a school.
It was a vault.
And tonight…
I intended to claim what was mine.
"It's not just curiosity, Tom," Abraxas continued, his footsteps echoing behind me. "You don't disappear into the depths of the castle without reason."
A faint smile touched my lips.
"You're right."
We stopped before a blank stretch of stone wall.
Unremarkable.
Invisible to anyone who didn't know what to look for.
Abraxas frowned slightly. "There's nothing here."
"There is."
I stepped forward, placing my hand lightly against the cold stone.
Then—
I spoke.
A low, hissing language slipped from my lips.
Ancient.
Sharp.
Parseltongue.
The wall trembled.
Shifted.
Opened.
Abraxas froze.
"…What was that?"
I didn't look back.
"Proof."
The entrance revealed itself slowly—a dark passage descending into shadow.
Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium.
A place not meant for the unworthy.
A place not meant for anyone.
Except me.
We stepped inside.
The air changed immediately.
Heavier.
Colder.
Ancient magic clung to the walls like a living presence, watching, judging.
Abraxas's usual composure faltered—just slightly.
"This place…" he murmured. "It feels—"
"Alive?" I offered.
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't need to.
The path ahead twisted into a maze of narrow corridors and shifting passages, designed not merely to confuse—
But to test.
And it did.
Time blurred.
Minutes… or hours.
Traps.
Dead ends.
Illusions that whispered doubt into the mind.
But I moved forward without hesitation.
Because I knew.
Not just from instinct.
From memory.
Another world's knowledge guiding me through a founder's design.
Eventually—
We reached it.
A sealed doorway.
Dark.
Imposing.
Final.
And written upon it—
A requirement.
A test.
Abraxas stepped closer, reading it carefully before going still.
"…This can't be serious."
"It is."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
"To proceed…"
He swallowed slightly.
"…one must cast the Cruciatus Curse."
A pause.
"On another."
The weight of it settled between us.
Not theoretical.
Not symbolic.
Real.
Abraxas turned to me slowly.
"You knew."
Not a question.
A statement.
"Yes."
Silence.
Tension coiled tightly in the air.
"And you brought me anyway."
Still calm.
Still controlled.
"Yes."
His eyes searched mine.
Looking for something.
Hesitation.
Doubt.
Cruelty.
He found none.
"Why?" he asked quietly.
I stepped closer—not threatening, not forceful.
Honest.
"Because I needed someone capable of standing beside me."
Truth.
"And this…" I gestured lightly toward the door.
"…is a test of that."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"Or a test of loyalty."
"Those are often the same thing."
Silence stretched.
Then—
Abraxas let out a slow breath.
"You're asking me to trust you."
"No."
I met his gaze directly.
"I'm giving you the choice not to."
That…
Caught him.
Because it was real.
No coercion.
No manipulation.
Only decision.
Moments passed.
Then—
"…Fine."
The word was quiet.
But steady.
He stepped forward.
"Do it."
No fear.
No hesitation.
Just resolve.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I raised my wand slowly.
For a brief moment—
Time seemed to still.
This wasn't about the spell.
This was about the line.
Once crossed…
It could never be undone.
But I had crossed it long ago.
"Crucio."
The word slipped from my lips like silk.
Magic lashed out.
Abraxas gasped, his body tensing violently as pain surged through him—
Raw.
Unfiltered.
And yet—
He did not scream.
He endured.
Seconds passed.
Then I lowered my wand.
The pain vanished instantly.
Silence followed.
Abraxas steadied himself, breathing heavily—but standing.
Unbroken.
The door responded.
Dark magic rippled across its surface…
Then slowly—
It opened.
I watched it carefully.
Then glanced at Abraxas.
"…Well done."
Not praise.
Recognition.
He exhaled sharply, straightening.
"You'd better hope whatever's in there is worth it."
A faint smile formed.
"Oh…"
I turned toward the darkness beyond.
"It is."
Because this wasn't just a chamber.
This was legacy.
Power.
Inheritance.
And I was not just a student walking into the unknown.
I was the Heir of Salazar Slytherin.
And everything beyond that door…
belonged to me.