Chapter 240 – Slytherin's Heritage
Over generations, the divine blood once flowing through wizardkind grew thinner. To preserve their dwindling power, ancient wizards devised blood potions. Yet by the era of Salazar Slytherin—thousands of years ago—the key ingredients for these potions had become nearly extinct and nearly impossible to cultivate.
Realizing this, Phineas couldn't help but worry about the potion ingredients he'd asked Lisa to grow.
After blood potions faded into history, a new method emerged: the Blood Sublimation Ritual. But whether through potion or rite, the gains were minimal—just slight enhancements in blood purity. None brought one close to true godhood.
So the four founders of Hogwarts took different paths in their quest for transcendence.
Ravenclaw explored the origins of magic itself through magical script and runes.
Gryffindor strove to become a magical beast in form and soul.
Hufflepuff fused multiple bloodlines to forcibly amplify her power.
Slytherin chose a path of refinement—purifying his existing bloodline until it surpassed even the gods.
Phineas suddenly realized how similar the system's path for him was to Slytherin's. Yet unlike Slytherin, he also possessed the legacies of the other three founders. For him, it was far easier. Reflecting on this, Phineas couldn't help but admire Slytherin—had he not been a wizard, he might have revolutionized the very course of ancient human civilization.
Slytherin eventually pioneered a radical approach: directly integrating the blood of magical beasts into his own.
At first glance, this seemed similar to Hufflepuff's method—but it was fundamentally different.
Hufflepuff relied on the bloodlines of other wizards who carried magical beast traits. Because wizarding blood is already diluted, the results were limited. Slytherin, on the other hand, used pure magical creature blood—direct, potent, and unthinned. But he didn't use just any creature. He meticulously selected only those whose bloodlines resonated with his own, ensuring high compatibility.
In his case, the creature of choice was the basilisk—a serpent, akin to his ancestral line. The Slytherin bloodline could be traced back to the earthly serpent Jörmungandr, the legendary World Serpent. By fusing with a creature born of a similar origin, he purified and strengthened his own lineage.
He wasn't adopting a new bloodline—he was refining what he already had.
Thousands of years ago, wizarding bloodlines were simpler and more concentrated. Intermarriage between wizarding families was rare. Most either wed into their own extended clans or with Muggles. Squibs, born from diluted bloodlines, often intermarried with Muggles—becoming the progenitors of many Muggle-borns seen today.
While today's wizards lack the raw magical power of the ancients, their varied bloodlines offer greater potential when following in Slytherin's footsteps.
Take Phineas, for example. He could draw from the Tengu bloodline inherited via the Black family—giving him access to canine magical creatures. His Prophet bloodline, rooted in a mystical dog with the gift of foresight and star-like speed, connected him to magical equine creatures. His Slytherin bloodline provided access to serpents. As for a fourth possible lineage, he suspected the civet, inherited from his maternal line—evident from his Animagus form: a cat.
Though Animagus forms are often thought to reflect the soul, they are in fact tied to one's bloodline. Sirius Black's Animagus form, for instance, was the same as most of the Black family: a dog. An ancestor once took the form of a snake, another a horse.
At this point, Phineas finished reading the first of Slytherin's notebooks. It held historical truths and speculative insights.
He set it aside and opened the second.
Inside was a recipe: the first successful blood fusion potion Slytherin had ever created. Slytherin recorded it at the front of the notebook, noting that the ingredients were relatively common—used to stabilize, accelerate absorption, and promote fusion. But the core component was the blood of a magical creature compatible with one's own lineage.
Phineas carefully transcribed the formula and kept reading.
The following pages documented experiments and refinements. All were marked successful.
What caught his attention most was the name Crabbe—one of the subjects used in the experiments. Yes, the same family line now loyal to the Malfoys. But during Slytherin's time, the Crabbes were Muggles. This meant Slytherin had discovered a way to create wizards from Muggles—though the process was unstable.
Out of several attempts, only two succeeded. One was Crabbe. The other?
Flint. Yes, the very family Phineas had nearly wiped out. According to Slytherin, Flint's bloodline had been fused with that of a troll.
Slytherin's comment on the matter was scathing:
> "It's completely unimaginable that a brainless brute like a troll could successfully merge with Ma Bo—who resembles one. Meanwhile, his own brother failed to fuse with the troll's bloodline. Could Ma Bo's success be due to his utter lack of brains?"
It was clear Slytherin had little regard for either trolls or the Flint family. Despite their descent from giants, trolls were viewed as degraded versions of their noble ancestors.
Phineas recalled another often-forgotten truth: today's giants, like trolls, lack intellect. This is because the intelligent giants were eradicated over a millennium ago—leaving only the dull-witted survivors.
The ancient giants weren't always mindless. Their bloodline came from a divine race—the Titans, vast beings from long-forgotten myths. Some of today's European islands were said to have formed from dead Titans, whose bodies returned to the earth after their deaths. But because too many Titans ascended to godhood, their kind was seen as a threat and were exterminated tens of thousands of years ago.
Returning to the notebook, Phineas found another of Slytherin's hypotheses.
Until now, all fusion potions had only refined his existing bloodline. But subspecies could only enhance—never evolve bloodlines to their original divine state. So Slytherin began researching how to fuse a second bloodline.
Opening the third notebook, Phineas read through Slytherin's attempts. The next two notebooks contained dozens of experimental designs for the second fusion potion. Unlike the first, this potion had to overcome bloodline repulsion between distinct origins. Special reagents were tested as core components.
Most formulas failed. But Phineas marveled at Slytherin's dedication—if he had succeeded, the wizarding world might have united, free from Muggle oppression and Elder Council control. A world where every wizard could become a dragon, or even a god.
Among the proposed plans, one stood out to Phineas: a fusion method using blood-melting grass as the secondary core. This potion allowed multiple compatible bloodlines to be fused at once—Slytherin's crowning achievement.
This was why the true Slytherin Chamber remained hidden. Had it been discovered, the magical world might be unrecognizable—a world of ascended beings, no longer shackled by bloodline limits.
The fifth and sixth notebooks expanded on this: how to combine multiple bloodlines. Slytherin had truly succeeded in developing the means to ascend. Each fused bloodline also granted the user innate magical talents unique to the beast it came from.
These, then, were the legacies left behind: books, research, and experimental blueprints—histories recovered and possibilities unlocked.
One particular insight stunned Phineas: the real method of hatching a basilisk.
Contrary to the common belief—planting a chicken egg under a toad, a myth propagated by Herpo the Foul—the truth was more elaborate. Slytherin had restored the authentic ritual.
A basilisk begins as a snake egg, not a chicken egg. First, the egg must be magically delayed from hatching for two months. Then, during that time, it must be incubated by a rooster and finally hatched by a toad. The transformation involved potions, full moons, and ritual influences.
This explained the horns on a basilisk's head—caused by lunar exposure, not roosters or toads.
In fact, the use of roosters and toads was symbolic, not essential. Some basilisk variants, like Basque, the familiar of the Slytherin heir, were not vulnerable to rooster crows at all.
In the end, all of Slytherin's work—from fusion potions to basilisk rituals—formed a roadmap to godhood.
And the legacies of the other founders confirmed it.
But like Hufflepuff's path, the price of ascending was steep—demigodhood came at the cost of a short and fragile life.