Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

By the blood that falls, truth is revealed; by the blood that’s pure, the treasure bestowed.

Salazar Slytherin left this final test in front of his vault, a test that no witch or wizard of impure blood could ever hope to pass.

Unlike courage, perseverance, or wisdom, bloodline was something innate — it could not be trained, earned, or changed.

Salazar Slytherin did not merely preach the creed of pure blood, he really put it into action.

He would leave nothing to those he deemed unworthy. Even if one were to endure endless hardship, uncover Slytherin’s key, and enter his vault, no one but his own descendants — or those whose blood he himself acknowledged — could ever lay claim to his treasure.

Salazar Slytherin took the pure-blood theory to the extreme.

The vast pool of molten magma before Evan and the others was a work of unparalleled magic. It could test the blood of any who approached, determining whether their lineage met Salazar Slytherin’s requirements. Evan didn’t know what magic Slytherin had used; it sounded incredible. Perhaps it involved the knowledge of Potions.

In other words, the molten magma before them was actually a specially processed potion.

Further extending the imagination, the underground of Gringotts was actually a massive cauldron for brewing potions.

This magic was undoubtedly astonishing, but for a wizard of Slytherin’s caliber, achieving it seemed far from impossible.

Everyone knew Salazar Slytherin was a master of Potions. Throughout magical history, many Potions Masters graduated from Slytherin House. It seemed that during the Sorting, Slytherin students possessed certain traits that made them well-suited for Potions. But Evan hadn’t imagined Salazar Slytherin’s skill could reach such heights.

He was brewing with nature itself — using the earth and sky as his cauldron, transforming seething magma into an alchemical potion.

This extremely difficult magic was incredible, even more shocking than when Godric Gryffindor had harnessed the power of the stars.

“What on earth is going on?” Harry asked again, bewildered.

“Harry, the magic Slytherin left behind is to test the blood of wizards who reach this place, to see if their bloodlines meet his requirements,” said Hermione, stepping closer to the molten pool and glancing at it over Evan’s shoulder. “So, we have to drop our own blood into the magma. If it meets Slytherin’s requirements, we might get the treasure he left in this vault. If it doesn’t, we’ll be attacked by the magma, just like Evan was.”

“This magma can verify blood?” said Harry in surprise, turning his head in disbelief. “How did he do that?”

“No one knows. My guess is that it’s a kind of potion. Slytherin probably mixed the blood of those he considered worthy into it long ago. If someone’s blood shares the same magical properties, the enchantment recognizes them and grants access — like a living lock and key,” said Evan. “I don’t know which wizarding families Slytherin favored, but our blood may not meet the requirements.”

“Humph, pure-blood? I’m sure the Malfoys would pass that test without any trouble,” said Harry disdainfully.

“So that means we won’t be getting anything at all?” Elaine asked, sounding disappointed.

“Looks that way. Whatever Salazar Slytherin kept in this vault, it clearly wasn’t meant for us,” Evan sighed. “Of course, there’s another way to get his treasure. It doesn’t require blood testing. It’s to break the lock and force our way in.”

But even as he said it, he knew it was impossible. He could use the remaining Cyclops energy to trigger another eruption, but that would likely destroy the treasure hidden within. Furthermore, this wasn’t an open sea. An eruption would also destroy Diagon Alley outside, a catastrophe.

Evan would then be recorded in magical history as the evil Dark wizard who destroyed Diagon Alley and much of London.

“Can we really force our way in?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Not a chance,” Evan said, shaking his head.

“Then what are we still standing here for? Let’s get out of this place,” said Elaine decisively.

She had no real interest in Slytherin’s treasure anyway. By rights, as one of Slytherin’s descendants, it should have been hers — but she couldn’t have cared less.

“Wait, don’t rush off yet,” said Evan quickly, stepping in front of her. “The three of you haven’t tried it.”

“But you just said that none of our blood meets the requirements.”

“That’s true. We four aren’t purebloods, but there are no truly purebloods these days,” said Evan. “After a thousand years, any wizard’s bloodline has become extremely mixed. Putting that aside, from a purely Potions perspective, any ingredient can potentially alter the potion. Our blood is now an ingredient. Perhaps one of us has something in it that fits Slytherin’s criteria — enough for him to grant us part of the treasure. It’s worth testing.”

From a Potions perspective alone, Evan and the other three weren’t completely out of the question.

Especially Harry and Elaine, whose ancestors had already been wizards a thousand years ago.

They both likely had some pureblood in them, so it all depended on whether they met Slytherin’s requirements.

“I hate Potions!” Elaine muttered.

“Okay, you three have a go. Hermione, you go first, then Harry and Elaine,” said Evan, urging Hermione to his side.

Hermione hesitated, but stepped up beside him at the tunnel’s edge. As before, Evan drew his wand and gently cut her fingertip. A few drops of blood fell, hissing as they hit the molten pool below.

The magma simmered, bubbling like brewing potion.

Then, with a boom, a pillar of fire shot up into the sky.

It rushed toward Evan and Hermione, eventually colliding with Evan’s shield.

Magma erupted in waves of heat, sparks and molten rock scattering in all directions. The impressive column of fire raged for over a minute before it finally subsided, leaving the air shimmering with heat.

Just as Evan suspected — Hermione’s blood carried no trace of the “pure” lineage Slytherin demanded.

It was obvious that both of their ancestries were thoroughly Muggle — or at least of the sort that Salazar Slytherin would have utterly disdained.

After Hermione, it was Harry’s turn. As before, Evan raised his wand and made a small cut across Harry’s fingertip.

A few drops of blood fell, hissing softly as they hit the molten pool below.

This time, however, the magma remained completely still — no surge of fire, no violent reaction. The surface shimmered faintly, then calmed, as if nothing had happened at all.

“What’s going on here?” Harry asked.

“Well, from a Potions perspective, it looks like part of your blood reacted with the mixture in a neutralizing way — like an ingredient that acts as a buffer or stabilizer,” said Evan thoughtfully. “In other words, your blood doesn’t meet Slytherin’s standards — but he doesn’t consider you enough of an insult to punish, either.”