Chapter 3
(Author's Note (Warning): This chapter contains scenes of torture and violence, which may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution, and take care of yourself while reading.)
As he stood before Dumbledore, the old man lifted his gaze, confusion and unease flickering behind his half-moon spectacles. His voice, though weaker with age, still carried an air of authority.
"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked, his fingers twitching as if reaching for his wand but stopping short.
Salazar Slytherin took a step forward, his emerald robes flowing behind him like a shadow. His gaze, sharp and knowing, bore into the so-called greatest wizard of the age. "A name you've buried in myths and twisted into fables," he said smoothly. "A truth you've spent decades denying."
Dumbledore's lips parted slightly, his breath hitching as realization dawned. "That's... impossible," he whispered.
Salazar let out a low chuckle. "You would like to believe that, wouldn't you?" He studied the frail man before him, his once-commanding presence now reduced to a shell of fading power. "You meddle, you scheme, and yet, in the end, you stand here, powerless before me. How ironic."
Before the old wizard could muster a response, Salazar struck. With a flick of his fingers, magic surged forward, forcing Dumbledore's mind open to him. The aged Headmaster gasped, his body trembling as Salazar delved into his thoughts, his memories—his secrets.
Salazar saw it all.
The boy, Tom Riddle, abandoned and angry, his gift of Parseltongue twisted into a mark of shame rather than a legacy of power. Dumbledore, who could have guided him, instead allowed the darkness to fester, pushing the child toward a path of destruction.
The Horcruxes—dark, fragmented pieces of a soul, a horror the old man had known about for years yet never acted upon, not until it suited his grand plan.
Then there was Gellert Grindelwald. The shared dreams of revolution, the deep affection, the betrayal. The battle that ended in chains, but not before costing the life of an innocent girl. Salazar saw the pain Dumbledore had buried, the guilt he had worn like armor, using it as an excuse for every cruel decision he had made since.
When he finally released the spell, Dumbledore collapsed back into his chair, gasping for air, his hands shaking as they gripped the armrests. His blue eyes, once bright with wisdom, were now hollow, haunted by the truths he had spent a lifetime avoiding.
"You have outlived the little worth you once had," Salazar said coldly. "It is time for you to go."
A flick of his wrist. A flash of green.
Albus Dumbledore slumped forward, lifeless.
Salazar exhaled slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve as he turned away. His work here was not yet done.
Stepping to the stone walls, he placed his palm against the cool surface, letting his magic flow into the very bones of the castle. Hogwarts trembled under his touch, the ancient wards faltering from years of neglect. He could feel the school's sorrow—its longing for the days when it was a true sanctuary, not a battlefield for power-hungry fools.
"It's alright," he murmured, his voice almost gentle. "I am back, and I will restore you."
With a whispered incantation, he wove his own magic into the castle, reinforcing its defenses, reawakening the power that had lain dormant for centuries. Hogwarts would be strong again. It would be safe.
A soft chime echoed in his mind—his magic alerting him that Avaluna was waking. Without hesitation, Salazar turned from the castle's wards and made his way swiftly to the Chamber of Secrets.
As he entered, his gaze immediately landed on her. Avaluna stood near one of the massive stone pillars, her form illuminated by the glow of enchanted torches. Her emerald eyes met his, still hazy with sleep, but as sharp and curious as ever.
"Where were you?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
Salazar studied her for a moment before answering. "I went to see Dumbledore."
The way her jaw clenched told him she already suspected the outcome. She waited, giving him the space to speak, but there was no sadness in her expression. Only expectation.
"He's dead," he stated simply.
She inhaled sharply, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "Did he tell you anything?"
Salazar's lips curled into a cold smirk. "He didn't have to. I took what I needed." His eyes darkened as he continued. "I saw everything—his secrets, his betrayals, his lies. I saw how he manipulated Tom Riddle, how he watched him descend into darkness and did nothing to stop it. How he let you suffer, knowing what you were and never once telling you the truth."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
Salazar took a measured step forward, his voice calm but unwavering. "You are a Horcrux, Avaluna."
For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then, she let out a shaky breath. "What... what does that mean?"
He gestured for her to sit, but she remained rooted to the spot, so he continued. "A Horcrux is a vessel that holds a piece of a wizard's soul. To create one, you must commit murder, splitting your own soul in the process. Tom Riddle—Voldemort—made several. One of them was unintentional." His gaze flickered to the scar on her forehead.
Her hand rose to touch it instinctively. "So, that's why I can see into his mind? Why I can feel him?"
Salazar inclined his head. "Yes. His soul fragment latched onto yours when you were a baby. Over the years, your magic has eroded its malice, but it still binds you to him.
Her breath hitched, horror creeping into her expression. "I have to die, don't I?"
"No." His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. "There are two ways to remove it. The first is through goblins or house-elves. Their magic is different from ours, strong enough to extract the soul fragment. But doing so would strip away parts of who you are. Your personality, your character—everything that makes you Avaluna—would change."
She swallowed hard, fear flickering in her eyes. "And the second?"
Salazar's gaze softened slightly. "A soul bond. After the Horcrux is removed, you would undergo a ritual with someone you trust completely. The bond would connect your souls, allowing the missing part of yours to be stabilized by the other person's. It would bind you both—sharing power, strength, and thoughts. But it is not something to take lightly. A soul bond is unbreakable, and if betrayed, it can be a weapon as much as a gift."
Avaluna looked down, her mind racing. "So, if I do this... I'll still be me?"
He nodded. "Yes. But the choice must be yours."
She was silent for a long moment before glancing up at him, a new fire in her eyes. "And you? Are you a Horcrux too?"
Salazar's expression remained calm, but his voice carried an unmistakable edge of finality. "I am not a Horcrux," he repeated. "A Horcrux is created by murder—it forces a wizard's soul to rip apart unnaturally, trapping a fragment inside an object. It is violent, unstable, and tainted."
"Then... what are you?" she whispered.
Salazar's gaze darkened. "You've seen the portraits at Hogwarts, haven't you? They talk, move, even retain memories. But they are only echoes." He exhaled. "I am different. I used my own magic—my own soul—to preserve myself within this ring. It was a deliberate sacrifice, not an act of defilement. Unlike a Horcrux, I did not tear my soul apart. I gave it, willingly, preserving ninety percent of my essence."
Avaluna shuddered. "But that means... you had to die for this to work."
"I did." His lips curled slightly. "And yet, here I stand."
A chill ran through her.
She exhaled, steadying herself, then narrowed her eyes. "And Dumbledore knew about all of this? He knew I was a Horcrux and said nothing?"
Salazar's expression darkened. "He suspected it early on. He confirmed it in your second year."
Something inside her snapped. Magic crackled around her like a living force, her emerald eyes glowing with fury. "He let me believe I had to die," she hissed. "He let me suffer. He let me walk into every danger, knowing—knowing—what I was."
Salazar said nothing, merely watching as she shook with rage. Then, finally, he stepped forward and pulled her into a slow, steady embrace. It was not intimate or romantic, but a silent promise. An anchor in the storm of emotions raging inside her.
For a long moment, she simply stayed there, gripping his robes as her magic slowly settled. Avaluna remained silent, her body taut with lingering fury. The weight of everything that had happened—the lies, the manipulation, the pain—pressed heavily upon her chest, suffocating her thoughts. A pulse of anger coursed through her veins, and without warning, she turned to Salazar, her voice unwavering and cold.
"I want to see his body."
Salazar raised an eyebrow but made no attempt to question her request. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the torches in the Chamber of Secrets flickered and dimmed, casting the room in shadows. The air around them grew thick with anticipation, the magic crackling like an electric storm. "Very well," he said, his tone calm but laced with a quiet understanding. "Come."
Without another word, he led her through the labyrinthine corridors of Hogwarts, their footsteps the only sound in the otherwise still air. The castle felt unnaturally silent, as if even the walls were holding their breath after the events that had unfolded.
They reached the Astronomy Tower, and there, lying cold and motionless on the stone floor, was Dumbledore's lifeless body. The once-mighty wizard now appeared small and fragile in death, his robes crumpled around him, his half-moon spectacles askew. His wand, once a symbol of immense power, lay discarded, just out of reach of his now-still fingers.
Avaluna paused for a moment, her gaze fixed on him, her emotions a whirlwind. She had expected some sense of satisfaction, maybe even joy, but instead, a deep emptiness filled her. She stepped closer, kneeling beside the body, her eyes cold as she examined his still form.
"This is the man who held all the power in the world," she muttered, her voice low and almost distant. "And yet, he did nothing but watch as others suffered."
Salazar, standing behind her, remained silent, his gaze never leaving her. He knew this moment would come. He had known her anger, her need for retribution, but even he couldn't have predicted the depth of her rage.
Avaluna's fingers twitched as she reached out, brushing the fabric of Dumbledore's robes. Her hand trembled with barely contained fury as she traced the pattern of the cloth, as if trying to feel some connection to the man she once revered. Her breath hitched, and she whispered, almost to herself, "I should feel... something. Hate. Relief. Satisfaction." She curled her hand into a fist, the knuckles turning white. "But all I feel is emptiness."
Salazar crouched beside her, his eyes dark, unblinking. "That is because your vengeance has only just begun," he said softly, his voice calm and yet brimming with the promise of what was to come.
Avaluna's eyes flickered to him, searching for something in his gaze—an acknowledgment, perhaps, that her actions were justified, that her rage was warranted. But all she found in Salazar's eyes was certainty. His unwavering belief in the path she had chosen.
Her voice dropped to a quiet whisper. "Did he beg?"
Salazar's lips twisted into a dark, knowing smile. "No. But he knew it was coming. I saw the acceptance in his eyes before I struck. He was ready to die."
A cold smile tugged at Avaluna's lips, but it was devoid of warmth. "Then he got off easy."
Her words hung in the air as she stared down at Dumbledore's lifeless form, the weight of everything he had done to her crashing down once more. She reached for her wand, her grip firm as the need for retribution coursed through her. Her magic flared violently as she muttered a silent incantation, sending a pulse of energy through the air.
The corpse of Dumbledore, still and cold, remained motionless—but his once majestic face now twisted in agony as she began her cruel work. Her wand flicked, and the air hummed with power as she forced the body to move, to react, to feel what he had caused her to feel for all those years of manipulation and lies.
She didn't need to speak; her anger alone fueled the magic. With each flick of her wand, the body twisted in unnatural ways, the once-dignified posture crumbling under the weight of her fury. She summoned fire to lick at his robes, scorching them in slow, deliberate circles. She conjured blinding lights that flashed against his corpse, the force of the spells shaking the very foundation of the tower.
But still, it wasn't enough. She reached down and, with trembling hands, grabbed the broken, lifeless body by the robes, lifting it to her eye level. Her voice came out cold and venomous, like ice cutting through the air. "You made me who I am," she spat, her grip tightening. "You shaped me, controlled me, and then discarded me like I was nothing. You let my parents die. You watched me suffer."
Then, she did something she had been longing to do for years. With a sharp, decisive motion, she drew a knife from her belt and plunged it into Dumbledore's heart, once, twice, three times. Each strike was a release, a moment of catharsis. The blood that seeped out was meaningless now. The man who had manipulated her for so long was no longer in control.
Salazar watched her, his eyes glowing with an emotion that was almost reverence. He had never seen her so powerful, so consumed by her own magic. He was proud of her—proud of the woman she was becoming.
With one final flick of her wrist, Avaluna conjured flames, watching them consume Dumbledore's body. The fire roared to life, the heat and intensity of it echoing her inner turmoil. The ashes spread, carried by the wind, until there was nothing left of the man who had once been a beacon of power in the wizarding world.
She exhaled slowly, the weight of what she had done settling in her chest. For the first time in a long while, she felt something close to peace.
Salazar stood, watching her silently as she turned away from the ashes. His voice was quiet but resolute. "Now, we make sure no one ever controls your fate again."
Avaluna nodded, her resolve hardening like steel. "Then let's begin."
With a final, deliberate motion, Salazar flicked his wrist, and the darkness around them deepened. They disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind the remnants of Dumbledore's body and the castle that had been both a prison and a battleground.
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In the quiet of the private chamber, Avaluna's thoughts churned like a storm, every step she took a reflection of the inner chaos she felt. The recent events weighed heavily on her, the anger simmering beneath the surface. She spun around, looking at Salazar, her voice tight with frustration.
"What do we do now?" she asked, her words clipped. "I can't go back to that place. I refuse to. There's so much more to learn, so much I still need to understand. I'm not going back to the Dursleys—living in a cage, where I can't even make a move without permission!" Her hands trembled with the force of her emotions. "I won't be a prisoner anymore."
Salazar's gaze softened as he crossed the room to stand before her. His strong arms enveloped her, pulling her close, his presence a grounding force against the storm in her mind. "Listen to me," he murmured, his voice calm, almost soothing. "You won't return to that hell. When we reach the station, you'll simply tell them you're done. They'll be relieved to be rid of you, believe me. After that, we'll visit Gringotts, claim your inheritance, and from there, everything changes."
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words sink in. Slowly, she relaxed against him, comforted by the certainty in his voice. "But first," he continued, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze, "we need to make sure that no one interferes. You'll stay here, pack your things, and then meet me by the entrance. I have some matters to attend to, important tasks we can't delay any longer."
Her lips twisted in a mock pout at his authoritative tone, but it only lasted a moment before she caught the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without another word, she pulled away from his embrace, moving quickly to leave. But then, in a sudden burst of mischief, she stopped and spun around, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. Laughing at his surprised expression, she darted out of the room, her footsteps light with a playful energy.
Salazar blinked, momentarily stunned, then a slow, amused smile spread across his face. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his preparations. He retrieved a pouch filled with charms and set about gathering essential journals, vials, and artifacts from the shelves. His movements were methodical, each item carefully selected for their journey ahead.
As he packed, his eyes lingered on the corner of the room where the lifeless form of Jormund, the Basilisk, lay. A heavy sorrow settled in his chest. The mighty creature, once a loyal companion, had been twisted by Riddle's manipulations and was now reduced to nothing but a weapon. He knelt beside the serpent, whispering quietly, "I'm sorry, old friend. I should have protected you."
With a heavy heart, Salazar cast a spell that reduced the Basilisk's remains to ashes, collecting them into a small container. He ran a hand over the container as if paying his final respects, then stood and made his way to the entrance, his movements deliberate.
As he approached, he could sense Avaluna's presence nearby. She had already packed, he knew—her things secured in the chamber since the night before. His attention flickered to the students around the grounds, their movements a mixture of confusion and apprehension. The air was thick with uncertainty, and he could feel the subtle tremors of the chaos that had enveloped the castle.
Avaluna, her head held high, stepped from the shadows of the corridor. She moved with purpose, a silent defiance in her every step. Her eyes flickered briefly over Ron and Hermione, who were frantically searching the area, but she didn't slow her pace. Her jaw clenched, her expression hardening as she bypassed them and made her way toward the carriages.
Salazar, watching from a distance, couldn't help but feel a sense of quiet satisfaction. Hogwarts, the place he had once helped build, was still alive, its halls brimming with the chaos of a past that was no longer his. As Avaluna boarded the train and slipped into an empty compartment, Salazar followed, his presence unnoticed as he stood beside her.
Once inside, she closed the door with a quiet click and drew the curtains closed, blocking out the rest of the world. A deep sigh of relief escaped her lips as she settled into the seat. Salazar removed his cloak and placed her trunk into the compartment, sitting beside her with a look of quiet curiosity.
"Why did you avoid them?" he asked, his voice light but probing. "Ron and Hermione, I thought they were your closest friends."
Avaluna's gaze flickered to the window, her mind racing. "They were. But not anymore. It's clear now. The summer before my fifth year, they made promises to Dumbledore, swearing to protect his secrets. I get it, I do. But they could've sent a letter. Anything. Instead, I was alone at the Dursleys', haunted by my nightmares, forced to relive everything that happened." Her voice tightened, bitterness creeping into her tone. "Ron, he was my first friend, and yet in fourth year, he turned on me. Jealous, always jealous of my life. He only came back when he saw danger, when he realized that it wasn't all a game. And now, he thinks I don't notice his envy—of the money I have. What he doesn't understand is that I'd give it all away, all of it, for a real family, for friends who don't abandon me."
Salazar listened quietly, his expression unreadable, before he took her hand in his. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, his gaze softening with empathy. "They have their flaws, and you have yours. But none of that matters right now. You need time. There's no rush to resolve everything. Not yet."
Avaluna inhaled deeply, her gaze hardening as the train slowly came to a stop. She could see the Dursleys waiting for her, standing in the distance with their usual expressions—indifference, maybe even relief. They were speaking with the Order members, but Avaluna didn't care. She wasn't going back to them, and no one was going to change her mind.
As the train doors opened, she stepped down onto the platform, ignoring the Order members who were clearly waiting to speak with her. She wasn't interested in their attempts at comfort or intervention. She moved past them with a steady stride, Salazar following closely behind, his presence a constant support.
The Dursleys looked at her briefly, the faintest hint of surprise in their eyes, but there was no joy, no warmth in their gaze—just a distant acknowledgment. As if she were a mere inconvenience now that she no longer fit into their carefully curated world.
Without hesitation, Avaluna approached them. The words came out with an icy calm, but her voice was unwavering. "I'm not going back with you," she said, her resolve clear in every syllable. "Not now. Not ever."
The Dursleys exchanged quick, almost relieved glances, as if they had expected this but were glad to be rid of her anyway. They didn't try to argue, didn't try to convince her to return. Instead, they simply turned away and walked off, not even bothering to say goodbye.
As she watched them leave, Avaluna felt a mix of fury and liberation surge through her. She was free. For the first time, she didn't feel like a prisoner of their neglect, their cruelty. And in that moment, she realized that her journey had just begun.
Salazar's presence at her side was a reminder that she wasn't alone. He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around her in silent support. Avaluna leaned into him, savoring the warmth and strength he offered. The evening sky stretched out before them, the last rays of the sun dipping below the horizon as the world seemed to pause for a moment. She was free, and nothing would stop her now.
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A/N 2: I know many of you have been eagerly waiting for more fluff and romance between our main leads. While I couldn't include much of it earlier due to the fast-paced nature of the story, I'm happy to share that the next chapter will focus on those tender, heartfelt moments you've been hoping for. It's also the final chapter, bringing everything to a close. Thank you for your incredible patience and support—I hope you enjoy how it all comes together!
End Note:
Thank you for sticking with me through this! Initially, I had planned to wrap this story up in three short parts. However, as I delved deeper into Avaluna's journey, I found myself weaving in her fifth-year summary—something I hadn't originally planned for. It's stretched longer than intended, but I hope you enjoyed the depth it added to the narrative.
Your patience and support mean the world to me, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it. The next chapter will be the final one, and I hope it brings everything to a satisfying conclusion. Thank you for reading! 🌟
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