HP: Fantastic Beasts And The Right Way To Use Them - 307

Chapter 307: Is This Really Supposed To Be This Sweet?

"Cough, cough... cough..."

In the dim dungeon, the silver-green-robed old man lay slumped over the table, coughing so hard it was as if he meant to hack up his lungs.

Opposite him, Dumbledore watched with keen interest, thoughts churning behind his calm blue eyes.

These shadows, which could behave no differently from real people, fascinated him. They seemed completely unlike portraits; far more flexible and far freer, as if they possessed minds of their own rather than following some pre-set script.

He wondered whether they could only take shape in this unique space, or whether they could be created and used anywhere.

Still, the shadows were not without flaws. The lump of grey-black fog bound motionless to one side was proof enough of that.

After about a minute, Slytherin finally stopped coughing. He raised his head slowly, and there was a light in his eyes that had not been there before.

His expression, however, had grown even colder than before. That matched exactly the face Dumbledore had seen in the House portrait.

This particular Founder seemed to wear that sour expression year-round. Coupled with his somewhat monkey-like features, anyone taking one look would be hard-pressed to think of him as a good person.

Pulling himself together, Slytherin spoke at last, rather reluctantly.

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome." Dumbledore smiled. "Now, can we have a proper conversation?"

"Hm." Slytherin gave the smallest of nods. His body was still weakened by what had just happened, but it was enough to sustain normal speech.

He was just about to say something when the man across from him suddenly lifted a hand to stop him. Slytherin blinked as the wand-tip flicked; a small box flew from Dumbledore's pocket into his palm.

With a tap of his hand, the lid of the box eased open, and several cups floated out, lining up neatly in mid-air.

"Before the lecture... coffee? Lemonade? Or black tea... no, you did not have black tea in your day, did you?"

Remembering that, he put the other cups back into the box, leaving only one filled with black tea. He set it on the table and gently pushed it over.

"In that case, you really must try this."

"...You are making me feel as though you are the host here."

Slytherin cast a frosty glance at the orange-red liquid placed in front of him, then looked at the little box Dumbledore had just drawn the cups from.

“That is… a Niffler’s pouch? Has your era finally learned to weave that enchantment?”

“No, it is an Undetectable Extension Charm,” Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. He let the little box drift back into his pocket and smiled. “But the Niffler‑pouch enchantment does exist as well; I simply have not yet taken the time to learn it.”

"Undetectable Extension Charm..." Slytherin muttered the words under his breath, then shook his head and ignored the old wizard's easy familiarity. He adjusted his posture, as if ready to begin.

But just as he was about to speak, he studied Dumbledore's smiling face for a moment, hesitated, and suddenly asked, "I can feel there is some kind of connection between us. Are you... my descendant?"

His expression was not pleasant as he said it. He clearly did not care for the idea of having such a flighty descendant.

"No. I am afraid not," Dumbledore said, with what looked like genuine regret. "I suspect it is because I am currently Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Slytherin blinked, then nodded slightly.

"Headmaster of Hogwarts, is it?"

He suspected that answer might actually be worse than having this old man as a descendant, but it hardly mattered.

He was only a shadow, after all. There were limits to what he could concern himself with.

"Hu..."

He drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. When Slytherin raised his head again, his body seemed fully recovered.

"Let us begin."

His eyes gleamed faintly as he picked up the cup in front of him, his expression turning grave.

"The story of the Dark Age is long. It may take quite some time to tell. Before that, I think I should first explain why this place has become what it is now."

Slytherin paused, a flicker of memory passing through his gaze.

"Do you recall the name I mentioned earlier, Herpo?"

"Of course." Dumbledore nodded. "Every History of Magic textbook places particular emphasis on his name."

"It is only right that it should. Given what he did, his infamy deserves to last eternally."

As he spoke, Slytherin raised the cup and took a small sip.

A faint fragrance touched his tongue first, followed by a wave of overwhelming sweetness. The cloying taste made him cough twice more before he could stop himself. Frowning, he stared down at the cup in his hand.

"Is this... really supposed to be this sweet?"

"Oh, certainly not. I simply made a tiny adjustment according to my own tastes." Dumbledore smiled. "Would you like a different drink?"

"No. That will not be necessary."

Setting the sickeningly sweet liquid aside and resolving never to touch it again, Slytherin laced his fingers together, his expression taking on a more solemn cast.

"This begins with a single person. After Merlin disappeared, I took on a student named Melvin."

"Melvin?"

At the name, Dumbledore frowned slightly, as if he knew something about it. But he was more interested in the first half of that sentence.

"What do you mean, after Merlin disappeared? What happened to him?" Dumbledore asked.

"He..."

Slytherin opened his mouth, clearly intending to explain. Yet as the words reached his lips, he paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"I cannot. The information has been sealed."

"Sealed, has it?"

Dumbledore scratched his chin, a spark of interest glinting in his blue eyes.

He had not received an answer, but he already had a few guesses. Some questions were answered in themselves.

He did not press the point.

"Please, go on. You said you took a student named Melvin. And then?"

"At first, I was only looking for someone who could inherit all my knowledge after Merlin's disappearance," Slytherin said quietly. "But once I began to teach this young wizard, I gradually discovered an extraordinary trait in him."

"He was diligent, and his capacity for learning was exceptional. Everything I taught, he grasped quickly. He could draw inferences from what I said and propose ideas that had never even occurred to me."

"To be honest, at the time I truly believed I had found a student even more outstanding than Merlin, one who could inherit my mantle more fully."

At that, Slytherin lifted his head slightly. A trace of sorrow and wistfulness moved in his eyes.

"It never crossed my mind that such brilliance was not talent at all, but the mark of another soul."

"A soul that had walked out of the Enigmatic Mirage, clinging to him through a Horcrux. A soul whose name would stink through the ages."