Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 735 Traces

With Madam Myrtle absent, Loren and the others entered the secret chamber through the opening in the washroom.

This was a renovated passageway with winding copper pipes. The moss and slime inside had been removed, so there was no need to endure the pungent and nauseating smell. Other pipe branches connecting to this passageway had been blocked off, and the journey was smooth and clean as you made your way to the tunnel below. Loren felt that this riding experience was much better than before.

Hagrid had some reservations, but since he wasn't stuck in the middle of the pipe, he didn't mind the discomfort.

As magic surged into the wand, several bright blue flames immediately bloomed, floating and leaping in the air, releasing a warm and steady light.

The scene below the pipe was slightly different from what I remembered, but overall it was the same: a dark stone tunnel with soft, damp ground made of accumulated mud and sand. Faint footsteps echoed in the tunnel, and occasionally there was a crisp click, which was the sound of stepping on the bones of a mouse or some other animal.

After walking past a flat stone fork in the road, Harry turned and looked at the surrounding walls, feeling a little sentimental.

"Harry, do you remember there used to be a snake skin lying here?"

Harry turned around and saw Ron standing beside him, looking around curiously with an excited expression on his face: "We dragged Lockhart down with us and followed Crabbe and the others, and we were almost scared by this snake skin..."

"..."

The two people involved in the adventure began to recall the details of that year. Hermione also had some memories coming to mind. She turned to look at someone beside her, a glimmer of light in her eyes.

Someone already knew about the locked room and the basilisk, but conspired with the principal to plan it, causing them to live in fear for half a semester.

Loren avoided her gaze, but quickly remembered something, widened his eyes, and glared back defiantly: "What are you looking at? This matter has already been settled. What more do you want?"

Hermione didn't argue, but looked him up and down, her gaze sweeping over a certain part of his body.

"..."

This woman has no manners.

Loren paused for a moment, then turned and walked deeper into the tunnel.

After passing through the fork and turning another corner, not far ahead is a stone wall carved with snake-shaped decorations. Two venomous snakes are intertwined, their eyes inlaid with glossy green gems. The magic on it has been dispelled, and the stone wall is not blocked, but left open a few feet wide, so you can enter without using the snake language.

The layout of the secret chamber resembles a magnificent palace, pitch black inside, with only the gemstones inlaid in the stone walls emitting a faint green glow. Blue flames surged into and illuminated the entire room, which was spacious with a high dome. The straight stone pillars stood guard on both sides of the archway, protecting the statue at the deepest part of the secret chamber.

The aged Salazar Slytherin stared silently ahead. His face, distorted and gaunt by dark magic, was thin, but his eyes were sharp, even disdainful. He wasn't looking at the person who had entered the Chamber of Secrets; his haughty demeanor seemed to be looking through the barriers of reality into a distant and unknowable void.

Influenced by the strange magic, Loren already knew the next steps and turned to look at Harry, who was somewhat stunned.

Harry looked up at the statue, then turned and walked to the flat ground at its feet. He took the Mirror of Erised from his storage scales and lifted the black curtain covering it. The smooth mirror surface shimmered slightly, reflecting the entire scene in the dimly lit Chamber.

Harry saw himself in the mirror, looking somewhat bewildered. Behind the lenses were green eyes, and the scar on his forehead was exactly the same, only reversed.

He stared silently for a moment, then pulled all the items he had collected that day from the scales: the terracotta pot from Gaunt's old house was covered in dust, the Horcrux crafting notes were neatly written, Crouch's flesh and blood sludge was dark brown and sticky...

Loren and the others stood not far behind Harry. They could see Harry's back and his reflection in the mirror, but they were not reflected in the mirror. This did not conform to the laws of optics, but no one found it strange.

When Loren saw the same items appear in the mirror, he couldn't help but frown.

The mirror image of Harry seemed to turn pale. These items clearly had no magic, yet the mirrored figure seemed to be drawing some more secret substance from them, undergoing a subtle and imperceptible change.

……

Far across the Atlantic Ocean, on the summit of Mount Greylock in Massachusetts.

Four figures stood around the lush green snake tree, two of whom were middle-aged and the other two were elderly.

Newt Scamander stretched out his hand, which had been scratched by the Bowtruckle, and plucked a leaf from the snake tree. The emerald sap flowed down the old man's wrinkled face and seeped into his wound.

Newt felt a pure life force spreading throughout his body, not only healing the gash on his hand but also alleviating some of his aging symptoms. He unconsciously held his breath; the effect was remarkable, and there was no curse. This plant sap was even more peculiar than unicorn blood.

"Don't even think about it. The snake tree won't extend your lifespan." Gilbert Fontana seemed to know what he was thinking and shook his head. "It can only relieve physical discomfort, make your rusty joints more lubricated, and make your aging blood vessels more elastic, that's all."

"It's already very precious."

Newt looked at the top of the Snake Tree. Summer was the season when the branches and leaves were lush and green, just like the other trees around it. But it was once the wand that Slytherin had made himself. It shouldn't be like an ordinary tree. It should be more lush and have more vitality.

He couldn't help but mutter to himself, "What exactly did Voldemort do to it?"

Dumbledore shared the same doubts. He was slowly circling the tree trunk, his deep blue eyes appearing exceptionally profound in the night. He had thoroughly examined the roots and crown of the tree and found nothing wrong. He had even carefully explored the ground and found nothing unusual.

He was certain that the snakewood had not been made into a living Horcrux.

"I still have doubts about Horcruxes."

Gilbert Fontana looked at the two old men. "The Ivermony Library also has a copy of 'The Secrets of Advanced Dark Magic.' I've carefully read the chapter on Horcrux making, and to be honest, the content is quite different from what I imagined. Splitting one's soul and attaching it to different objects, relying on the strange connection between the souls, allows a wizard to remain in the world after death. This form is even more painful than death itself... But how was Voldemort able to reverse the separation of spirit and flesh to achieve resurrection? The Horcrux chapter doesn't cover this aspect."

"Hmm... Severus might be able to give you the answer to that question." Dumbledore didn't turn his head, still sizing up the snake tree.

Snape remained calm, his mind solely focused on how to gather more Snake Tree materials, his eyes devoid of any emotion: "Voldemort followed in the footsteps of Helbo and Slytherin, unearthing the resurrection ritual from the ruins of history, perfecting and refining it, and using it on himself."

"Could you elaborate?"

"Death is not a true god. He has no independent consciousness, and he cannot think or judge. There is a boundary between life and death, and this boundary is not a barrier in the conventional sense, but more like..." Snape paused, as if considering how to phrase it, "like a kind of positional relationship. The various traces in the world are threads. When they intertwine and entwine, unique nodes can be identified. By following these nodes and using potions to construct an empty body that fits the soul, one can... bring the dead back to life."

Egilbert's expression turned approving. "Would Mr. Snape be interested in becoming a professor in Iphamony?"

"no."

"Not limited to potions, other subjects are also acceptable."

"don't want."

"..."

Dumbledore looked up, the starlight filtering through the canopy of the snakewood tree, and softly repeated, "Traces are threads, intertwined and entwined to determine location."