Chapter 220: Rightful Owner?

Morning.

The ancient mountains echoed, and mist spread through the dense, dark forest, making Mount Greylock appear like a hidden illusion from a mythical realm.

A towering and ancient marble castle loomed, appearing and disappearing within the thick fog, like a distant, fleeting mirage.

Unlike usual, today Ilvermorny was particularly quiet.

It wasn't a holiday, yet all classes had been suspended.

Students, dressed in blue or cranberry-colored robes, gathered on the circular hall's terrace, their expressions full of worry, but no one dared to utter a word.

Their gazes were uniformly directed outside.

There, they could see the heads of the four houses and the old headmaster standing outside the castle.

Alongside them was an elderly goblin.

Their expressions were a mix of anger and astonishment.

It wasn't without reason—what had made them so upset was the fact that the ancient snakewood tree, which had stood outside Ilvermorny Castle for three hundred years, had vanished overnight!

"Someone stole it!" The goblin clenched his fists tightly, his eyes flashing with rage.

Goblins were peculiar magical creatures, resembling upright hedgehogs, about the same height as house-elves. For three centuries, many goblins had lived at Ilvermorny, serving the school's staff and students much like house-elves did.

But this one was different.

—His name was William, a friend of the school's founder, Isolt Sayre, and one of the four symbols of the school itself—the very goblin!

He had witnessed Ilvermorny grow from a small granite cottage into the massive castle it was today.

He had witnessed the passing of his friend, and he had seen the snakewood wand buried in the earth, which had, within a year, grown into a towering tree.

But now, the relic left behind by Isolt had disappeared.

"I remember that tree was supposed to be indestructible and immovable," said Agilbert Fontaine, frowning. His background was unique—he was a descendant of the legendary Auror, Theodard Fontaine.

Agilbert had lived up to his ancestor's name. He was immensely powerful and was considered the top candidate to become the next headmaster.

However, even he had never been able to so much as budge the ancient snakewood tree.

He could only imagine the uproar that would ensue across North America once the news of the snakewood's disappearance spread!

Ilvermorny's student body came from all over the continent, and for three centuries, countless young wizards had arrived at the school, with the ancient snakewood being the first thing they saw before entering the castle.

Upon their departure, the tree would be the last thing to bid them farewell.

For countless days and nights, the snakewood's lush branches had healed the injuries and ailments of the students. But now, it had vanished, leaving only a deep pit in the ground where it once stood.

It was clear that if they failed to recover the snakewood, the weight of the consequences would be enormous. They might even be written into the history of Ilvermorny as eternal wrongdoers.

But they were completely without leads.

Just then, William spoke. "It wasn't indestructible," the elderly goblin said, as if recalling something, his anger curiously subdued.

"What?" Headmaster's eyes widened in disbelief.

Then, the elderly goblin spoke a raspy word:

"Parseltongue!"

It was a truth never recorded in history. One of the founders of Ilvermorny, Isolt Sayre, was a descendant of the infamous dark wizard Salazar Slytherin. Her mother's maiden name had been Gaunt!

And that snakewood wand—Isolt had stolen it from her own aunt.

It was an artifact belonging to Slytherin, and only a descendant of Slytherin could unlock its true power.

"Only someone with the ability to speak Parseltongue could fully awaken the wand," William muttered, his gaze downcast. "And it must be a descendant of Slytherin."

"If that's the case, then he merely took what rightfully belonged to him," Agilbert remarked.

He then drew his wand, aimed it at the empty space where the snakewood tree once stood, and with a firm motion, a faint golden ripple spread from the tip of his wand. A ghostly image of the tree appeared in the place where the snakewood had been.

It was a vision of the previous night, showing the person who had taken the snakewood. They hadn't even bothered to conceal their actions.

The gathered heads of the houses took a step back, silently watching the wordless projection unfold before them.

It was a bright moonlit night, and they could see clearly.

A young, handsome wizard was calmly walking up the path toward the mountain peak.

His steps followed the stairs, one by one, as if he were ascending to claim a throne that rightfully belonged to him!

William was stunned. He could see traces of Isolt in Cyrus's face, and his aged eyes filled with hot tears.

At that moment, the anger that had been burning in his heart was entirely quenched by his tears.

For three hundred years, Isolt's bloodline had long vanished from the world. Now, seeing another wizard who was also a descendant of Slytherin, William felt as though time had reversed, bringing him back to the moment when he first met Isolt.

The young wizard's eyes gleamed with a fiery golden light.

He was majestic and solemn.

Beside him, a large serpent, of an unrecognizable species, slithered behind him like a loyal subject.

He approached the snakewood tree, opened his mouth, and seemed to say some incantation.

Though they couldn't hear it, they saw the snakewood shrink under the power of the spell, willingly returning to the wizard's side.

It was as if, after centuries of separation, the tree had finally found the one it had been destined to wait for.

"That's really Parseltongue!" Agilbert's pupils contracted slightly, his face full of shock.

Even in America, Parseltongue was an infamous ability. Wizards born with this talent were exceedingly rare, but without exception, they all became dark wizards. The most famous, of course, being The Great Slytherin, Herpo the Foul, and Lord Voldemort.

"It seems a descendant of Slytherin has indeed taken the snakewood," Boot said gravely. "I know who he is—"

Boot did, in fact, recognize Cyrus.

Over the past year, the British wizarding world had been in complete turmoil, and Boot was somewhat aware of it.

He knew that the person who had taken the snakewood the previous night was named Cyrus. The British newspapers had reported that he had opened the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts and was a descendant of Slytherin.

"So, does that mean he merely took what rightfully belonged to him?" The head of Thunderbird House looked troubled.

If that were true, what were they supposed to do?

The snakewood had stood at the entrance of Ilvermorny for over three hundred years, becoming an integral part of the school—a symbol of Ilvermorny. Without the unique snakewood, would Ilvermorny still be Ilvermorny?

"Even if he is a descendant of Slytherin, we cannot let him take the snakewood!" The head of Horned Serpent House, a dark-skinned witch, was resolute and unyielding when it came to the snakewood.

However, just as she uttered those words, the figure of Cyrus, through the enchantment, suddenly turned and looked directly at her!

"Gasp!"

His fiery golden eyes blazed like the scorching sun, piercing her very soul!

It felt as if he were reaching across time itself, staring into the hearts of everyone present, burning away the ugliness and darkness within them.

The dark-skinned woman immediately staggered backward, her head spinning, as though she stood on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink of collapse.

The others also broke out in a cold sweat, trembling under the weight of Cyrus's gaze.

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