Another Curse?

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As he studied the image, Harry noticed a faint glow emanating from certain sections of the castle: the Gryffindor Tower, Ravenclaw's spire, the Hufflepuff kitchens, and, of course, the Chamber of Secrets. These areas pulsed with a deeper, older magic—each connected to the Founder it represented. The Gryffindor common room glowed in shades of red and gold, its walls reinforced with protective charms that burned fiercely, radiating warmth and courage. It was as if the very air in that tower carried Gryffindor's bold spirit, and Harry could feel it calling to him, a challenge etched into the magic.

Rowena's spire glimmered in blue and silver, layered with enchantments that pulsed with wisdom and clarity. The magic here was precise, calculated, spiraling in patterns that hinted at the clarity of thought and intellect that Ravenclaw prized. There was a strange beauty in its simplicity, a calm and quiet intensity that felt miles away from the fierceness of Gryffindor's tower.

Addition to that, the seventh floor of the castle felt like the essence of Rowena herself, an embodiment of intellect and insight woven directly into the stone and magic of the space. Here, every inch seemed charged with a refined energy, a blend of wisdom and hidden power as if Rowena's spirit had seeped into the walls, binding her legacy into the castle's foundation. Her magic radiated from the floors to the ceilings, spiraling upward in graceful, quiet lines, precise yet powerful.

At this floor's center was a room shrouded in mystery, a place that didn't obey simple rules but instead responded to the deeper needs of those who found it. Enchanted runes lined the door, delicate but potent, guiding those who entered with an almost invisible hand. Within, the room could shift in form, reflecting Rowena's belief that knowledge was adaptable, expanding and changing according to purpose.

Further below, Hufflepuff's influence radiated from the kitchens and extended into the castle's foundation, the magic there warm and steady, like a heartbeat that supported the entire structure. The charm-work was practical and comforting, forming a solid base that kept the castle grounded, providing strength to each room and hallway. There was a tangible warmth to it, a sense of welcome that wrapped around the entire foundation of the castle.

Then, as his gaze moved lower, he sensed a pull from the Chamber of Secrets itself. The image of the chamber glowed with a darker, richer green, the magic swirling in quiet but potent waves. Salazar's influence was unmistakable here—strong, sharp, and unyielding. His magic wasn't meant to be openly welcoming like Hufflepuff's, or intense like Gryffindor's; instead, it was subtle, a reserved power that held the potential for great force when wielded correctly. The Chamber seemed to pulse in sync with the ring on his finger, as if responding to his presence, reminding him of the control he could wield.

Harry took it all in, trying to understand the intricate web of spells and charms connecting each part of the castle. Every piece of magic, no matter how small, seemed to have a purpose, and every inch of the castle was woven with intent. Hogwarts was more than stone and magic—it was alive, its foundation rooted in centuries of thought, purpose, and magic bound together by the wills of the Founders themselves. He could almost sense them—Gryffindor's determination, Ravenclaw's clarity, Hufflepuff's resilience, and Salazar's strategic cunning—all blended into the magic.

Harry's focus shifted as he felt something unusual near the base of the structure, a faint shadow creeping through the wards. It moved subtly, like a crack in the armor, hidden deep beneath layers of magic. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on that single dark spot, and realized it was a knot of dark magic—a curse, wrapped tightly and embedded deep within the foundation.

It had to be the curse Riddle had placed on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.

The curse seemed like a twisted root, growing slowly and wrapping itself around the foundation of the castle. It pulsed with an oily, inky darkness, contrasting sharply with the bright glow of the wards around it. The magic was thick and unpleasant, like a stain that resisted the flow of the castle's energy. Riddle had woven it tightly into Hogwarts' wards, concealing it well beneath layers of protection. But here, in this vision, Harry could see it plainly, a blot of darkness that poisoned the magic around it.

Harry clenched his fist, feeling the ring's warmth flare slightly. Riddle's magic felt crude compared to the castle's natural magic—a sharp, ugly snarl amidst a symphony. It didn't belong here. The castle's wards had never accepted Riddle, and the curse now seemed almost out of place, standing as a blot on the pure, ancient magic surrounding it. He could sense the curse resisting, twisting against the foundation, clinging with every bit of power it could muster, as if aware of his presence.

Basi's voice drifted back to him, echoing in his memory. "The wards respond to intention and ancestry… Your command must be clear, unwavering. Only then will they accept it."

Harry took a deep breath, focusing on the dark knot in front of him. With the ring on his finger, he reached out to the wards around him, channeling his intent to cleanse the curse, to remove the blemish Riddle had embedded into Hogwarts. The castle was responding now, the wards around him shifting as if to accommodate his command. He felt the weight of Hogwarts' magic, the immense force of its age-old power, gathering around his will.

"I'm the heir of Slytherin," he murmured, his voice firm, the ring pulsing in response. "This curse doesn't belong here. I command the wards to release it."

The knot of dark magic shuddered, resisting, tightening its grip. Harry pushed harder, his mind and will focused on the single command. He poured his intent into the ring, drawing on Salazar's influence, aligning himself with the strength of the castle's magic. The wards began to respond more forcefully, gathering around the curse, constricting it like a vice. He could feel the power of the wards pressing in, crushing the curse's resistance, forcing it to unravel.

Slowly, he felt the curse begin to weaken. The dark magic strained against the pressure, fighting to keep its hold, but the wards were relentless. Inch by inch, the curse loosened, its grip slipping away from the foundation. Finally, with a faint shudder, the knot unraveled, the dark magic dispersing into the air, leaving nothing but a faint shadow that faded into the light of the wards.

The structure of Hogwarts pulsed with a renewed energy, the wards settling back into place, stronger and brighter. Harry let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of his command dissipate, the ring cooling on his finger. The vision before him flickered, then faded, the silhouette of Hogwarts dissolving until he was left alone in the Chamber of Secrets.

Basi's eyes were fixed on him, unblinking, with an expression that seemed approving. "It is done," the basilisk said, voice reverberating softly in the chamber. "The castle has accepted your command, Master."

Harry nodded but found his mind drifting back to what he'd sensed while clearing the curse—a faint trace of something else lurking within the wards. It hadn't felt dark, exactly, but it was definitely strange, like a stray thread patched into the castle's protective enchantments.

"Fate?" he murmured to himself, squinting as if he could bring that faint trace into sharper focus. Just as he tried to reach for it, the connection slipped away, leaving him empty-handed. Before he could question it further, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

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