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"That's… Salazar Slytherin's projection?"
As the dust from the shattered statue settled, the figure within the ghostly green doorway became clearer—a tall, slender wizard clad in black robes with silver-green stripes. He stood about six feet tall, his jet-black hair neatly trimmed and casually draped over his shoulders. But what drew the eye most were his eyes—his face was partly hidden in shadow, yet those piercing emerald green eyes were unnervingly sharp, like X-rays that seemed to instantly lay bare everything about whoever met their gaze.
Even Dumbledore couldn't help but hold his breath. In over a century of his wizarding life, this moment was undoubtedly one of the most nerve-wracking he'd ever experienced. His senses, keener than either Harry's or Snape's, made him all the more vulnerable to the mental shock they were all experiencing.
"What are you standing there for?"
A voice, cold and venomous like a serpent, rang out. It wasn't the aged tone everyone had anticipated—Salazar Slytherin's voice sounded surprisingly young. Yet the icy chill in his words made everyone shiver, snapping the trio out of their stunned daze.
"You're… still alive?"
The moment Harry blurted that out, he wanted to slap himself. What kind of dumb question was that? His nerves had short-circuited his brain and mouth.
Sure enough, a razor-sharp glare swept over Harry's face. Though Slytherin's expression was obscured, that look alone screamed, "Are you stupid?"
"I'm an idiot," Harry muttered, cheeks flushing as he grimaced at himself.
"You're damn right."
The cold, cutting remark stabbed right into Harry's chest, making him wince. A moment ago, Harry had doubted whether Slytherin could really be a dark wizard—but now, that naive thought crumbled. Anyone who could talk like that had to be a dark wizard—no question.
"You there—come here."
Though Slytherin didn't name names, Snape knew he was being called. Fortunately, his naturally composed demeanor spared him from Harry's kind of embarrassment. After overcoming the initial shock, Snape's actions were measured and dignified.
"Honored Salazar Slytherin, sir."
Snape stepped forward quickly and respectfully. Known for his habitual scowl, he now wore a rare look of genuine awe and reverence, as if standing before a saint. He bowed with a formal wizard's salute.
"I am Severus Snape, a graduate of Slytherin House, class of 1978. I currently serve as Head of Slytherin House and professor of Potions. My studies in curses, poisons, and war-time elixirs are modest but ongoing."
"1978?" Salazar Slytherin paused briefly. "So I've been dead for a thousand years…"
"But after all that time, why do you all seem so… familiar to me?"
His gaze swept over the trio once again, lingering slightly longer on Dumbledore and Snape.
"Weak magic."
Slytherin sneered with disdain. "A thousand years, and the magical world hasn't advanced at all? The spells you wear are feeble and pathetic. Is this what my descendants have to show me after a millennium?"
He raised a finger and pointed to the grand hall behind them.
"Bone-Shattering Curse."
A blinding red flash exploded forth, followed by a deafening rumble of crumbling stone. The red light sliced through the air beside the trio and pierced the ceiling. Unstoppable magical force tore through hundreds of meters of solid rock. The curse blasted a smooth tunnel, fifteen meters wide and hundreds long, from deep beneath Hogwarts to the surface. Shattered stone erupted through the opening, triggering a violent sandstorm on the lawns of Hogwarts.
"This is magic from our time."
Though it was the same incantation, the rhythm and tone in Slytherin's casting were entirely different. Even the method of casting held subtle variations, and yet those minor differences created a spell that was vastly more powerful.
"And yours…"
Slytherin sneered again. Without uttering a word, he casually pointed at the floor. Another red flash burst forth, but this time the curse only shattered a ten-meter radius, carving out a shallow pit three to five meters deep.
"This is the magic of a thousand years later? I must say, I'm truly impressed."
Just from observing the magical traces on Dumbledore and Snape, Slytherin had already deduced the nature of modern magic. The sheer absurdity of his abilities was beyond anything they'd ever heard of, let alone witnessed.
"If wizards from this era were thrown into our time, the abyssal hordes would've torn through their defenses in days."
"But your spell combinations are quite intricate," Slytherin paused for a moment. "Amplifying magical force through composite spell reinforcement and concentrating power? That's actually a clever tactic. Fine, I take back my earlier judgment—composite spells can indeed deal with those stone-headed brutes."
As Slytherin gleaned more from observing them, his assessment shifted slightly. But even this minor change made them realize just how vastly beyond comprehension his power truly was. Their estimation of his strength climbed to unimaginable heights.
"Since you've already made your choice, then—"
Mid-sentence, Slytherin's gaze turned toward the massive tunnel leading to the surface. Thunderous echoes boomed through the air, followed by an earsplitting, furious roar. A gigantic black silhouette burst from the passageway!
The colossal figure, nearly four meters tall, had a humanoid shape. Arms thicker than a grown man's torso bulged with veins, and the violent contours of its muscles sparked a primal fear that instinctively crawled up from deep within the spine. With a thunderous roar, the towering brute slammed onto the floor, shattering it instantly and leaving behind a crater over a meter deep.
"I will protect HOGWARTS!!!"
The roar, loud enough to shatter eardrums, surged through the room like a magical shockwave. In an instant, all conventional spellcasting failed completely. The war cry's disruptive force, spanning dozens of meters, collapsed all magic within its radius. No doubt—anyone deemed an enemy within that range would be pulverized by a single strike from those thunderous, iron fists.
Perhaps it was the piercing green glow that caught its attention, but the titanic punch—surging with hurricane-force winds—launched through the air across twenty meters toward its target! The compressed air beneath the massive fist emitted a pained shriek, unable to withstand the force, as misty shockwaves rippled out in concentric circles.
*"HAGRID!" x3*
All three of them screamed hysterically, minds reeling from dizziness and pain, completely dumbfounded by what they'd just seen. So much for being composed like "an old dog"—at this moment, with a giant crashing down from above, all composure was gone. Even Snape was a mess. Dumbledore's face had turned green with fright. A hundred-year-old geezer like him had never seen anything like this before. Good thing he liked sweets and had strong teeth—any other old man would've spat out all his dentures right then and there.
"Eh? Huh? What?!"
Hagrid, blessed with sharp hearing, caught the trio's panicked cries despite the ear-splitting sonic boom. Just after swinging his punch, the now-fierce-faced giant turned his head. His expression twisted through three stages of shock, making his face comically exaggerated.
"Professor Dumbledore… and, uh…"
Standing frozen, Hagrid scratched at his wild, Saiyan-like hair, utterly clueless about what to say next. His mental processor had hit a wall—he was stuck, system crash.
Several seconds ticked by before Hagrid finally howled, "You're all okay?! That's GREAT!"
"…"
The three of them slapped their foreheads, veins popping in exasperation. But the next moment, they hurriedly rushed forward, waving away the thick clouds of dust as they checked on Slytherin, who had just taken the brunt of Hagrid's sonic punch.
"You think I'd be harmed?"
A cold voice froze them mid-step. Five meters in front of Slytherin, the ground showed a distinct dividing line. Beyond that line, not a speck of dust or debris could be found—utterly untouched. But before the line, the floor had been utterly obliterated. The shockwave from Hagrid's punch had carved out a shallow arc-shaped crater, stretching fifteen meters from the spot where the punch was thrown right up to that dividing line.
The shattered stone was so utterly destroyed that even its "mother" wouldn't recognize it—"tragic" didn't even begin to cover it.
"A half-blood giant, huh?"
Slytherin's tone carried a hint of eager interest. "An excellent research specimen. If I weren't dead, I'd definitely capture it for experimentation. If we could mass-produce creatures like this, they'd make perfect first-rate cannon fodder."
"This guy's dead?" Hagrid's booming voice interrupted, "Professor, why are you digging up graves under the castle? Whose grave is it?"
"Salazar Slytherin," Slytherin replied calmly, showing no sign of offense. In fact, he introduced himself directly. "Though this isn't my grave—just a little trinket I left behind ages ago."
"Oh, Slytherin, huh…" Hagrid nodded, dazed and confused. About five or six seconds later, his face suddenly twisted, and he shouted, "WHAT?! Slytherin?! He's still ALIVE?!"
"Seriously?"
Hagrid leaned his massive head forward. "Alive?"
"Dead."
Everyone could practically imagine Slytherin's mouth twitching in annoyance, his voice dripping with disdain—like he was thinking, I don't want to talk to an idiot.
"If you're dead, how are you still talking? That's so weird, right?" Hagrid asked innocently, turning to see Dumbledore's face full of helpless resignation.
"This is probably a projection you left behind, Mr. Slytherin?"
"Something like that. Just think of me as a talking portrait, big guy."
"Oh, I see!" Hagrid nodded in sudden understanding, his brain finally catching up. "Ahahaha… Well, uh… portrait… did I hurt you? Just now I… haha, sorry, didn't mean to break you."
Faced with this big lug's clueless kindness, Slytherin fell into a cold, disdainful silence, but the air around them practically reeked of I really don't want to talk to an idiot.
"Well, since everything's fine, I'll head back."
Though Hagrid could be slow, his instincts were sharp. Since Hogwarts was safe, he didn't see any reason to stick around. After all, Dumbledore was here. As an ultra-loyal fan of the headmaster, Hagrid firmly believed that no matter what happened, if Dumbledore was present, nothing could go too wrong.
"I've still got dragons to feed, and I need to make myself a new coat."
Hagrid brushed himself off, tearing away the tattered scraps of cloth hanging from him. His mole-skin coat had long since been blown apart by his transformation—something that surpassed even a giant's battle form, more savage, more powerful. His body, radiating sheer physical force, was free of any unnecessary bulk, an embodiment of pure strength.
As he relaxed, Hagrid's height shrank slightly, and the explosively bulging muscles gradually receded. But the fat reserves he'd burned off weren't coming back anytime soon. Even after slimming down, his body still bore clear, rock-hard definition.
Hagrid used to have a belly—a big one—but now, there wasn't a trace of fat left. What was once a burly, rough figure had now taken on an overwhelming, hyper-masculine edge. Handsome? Maybe—but this overwhelming surge of testosterone wasn't something the average woman could handle. The right dose was medicine; too much was poison.
With casual ease, Hagrid jumped over ten meters straight up into the tilted hole in the ceiling. Striding into the sunlight, he cast a long, looming shadow. Everyone watched his departure, and for whatever reason, they—being wizards—couldn't help but be stunned by that raw, brute force. Even Dumbledore wasn't entirely clear about Hagrid's transformation.
"I really want to study him…"
Two voices whispered nearly in unison in the now-quiet chamber. Snape stared at Hagrid's fading silhouette with lingering fascination. He'd always been curious about Hagrid, but now, that interest was bordering on obsession.
"Uh, huh?"
Snape suddenly froze, realizing something was off. The other voice hadn't been his own echo—it had come from none other than Salazar Slytherin himself.
Though many of the historical records about Slytherin were likely inaccurate, one thing was clear—Slytherin loved research. For example, the Slytherin common room was originally a dungeon, used to house test subjects and prisoners for his experiments. After Slytherin left Hogwarts, the dungeon was abandoned and eventually remodeled into the common room as it exists today.
"You two stay here. You—kid."
Slytherin pointed at Snape. "Come with me."
With that, Slytherin turned decisively and stepped into a hidden chamber within the Chamber of Secrets, glowing with an eerie green light.
Snape glanced at Dumbledore, then nodded at Harry, before hastily following inside.
Although the door remained open, no sound could be heard from within by those outside.
"Professor Dumbledore."
"What is it, Harry?"
"Does this mean Hagrid can brag from now on, saying 'Not to brag or anything, but I once punched Slytherin'?"
"…Huh?"
Dumbledore's mouth twitched, and then he gave a helpless smile and nodded. "Pretty much."
(End of Chapter)