253- I am Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin
After making up his mind, Mr. Jamison Henry Greengrass didn't hesitate at all and walked straight out of his study. His daughters instinctively stood up from their seats, but the door to the study slamd shut with a bang.
Henry didn't want his daughters involved in this conversation. As an adult, he understood clearly that knowing too much was not always a good thing.
Arriving outside Rhys's bedroom, Mr. Henry knocked politely on the door—so politely, in fact, that it didn't seem like he was in his own house.
"Co in."
The door opened on its own. Rhys was sitting at the desk in the room, reading—a Muggle-published book, no less, its topic an introduction to Egypt's customs and culture.
Reading Muggle books inside the ancestral ho of a pure-blood family would be considered heresy in families like the Blacks or the Malfoys. But the Greengrass family leaned more toward the progressive side and didn't care much about such things.
Their family even maintained a faint connection with the non-magical world through a few Squibs within the lineage!
Seeing that it was Jamison Henry Greengrass, Rhys wasn't surprised at all. If he hadn't co to talk, that would've been unexpected.
Put yourself in his shoes—who wouldn't be concerned about sothing like this?But judging by his expression, he seed... quite emotional?
Though Rhys was staying in a "bedroom," what the Greengrass family had arranged for him was not so cramped space with just a bed and a wardrobe. It was a large room nearly fifty square ters in size, with its own washroom and even a space for receiving guests.
And Mr. Henry, the head of the house, was Rhys's "guest" today. He sat down in the armchair closest to the desk, wanting to speak, but when the words reached his lips, he found himself unable to say anything.
This made the atmosphere in the room a little awkward, but fortunately, Rhys didn't rush him—he simply sat quietly in his seat, waiting for him to speak.
After thinking seriously for a while, Mr. Henry finally opened his mouth with his first words: "Thank you, Mr. Lint."
Rhys's gaze fell on his slightly reddened eyes, and he understood—Daphne must have told him that Rhys had cured Astoria.
She only told him now? Rhys was a bit surprised by that.
"No need to thank . She is soone favored by good fortune. Being able to cure her gives a strong sense of accomplishnt as well."
Mr. Henry clasped his fingers together, lips pressed into a line. Rhys's words carried a tone that made it clear he didn't care for others' gratitude—he was simply imrsed in the satisfaction of overcoming a difficult challenge.
That kind of spirit… was no ordinary thing.
Not even those prestigious potion masters or renowned alchemists carried such presence.
So who exactly was he?
"The Greengrass family will forever rember what you've done. You will always be my friend," Mr. Henry said with sincere emotion.
"No need to take it to heart. I only did what I could because I couldn't bear to see soone with such talent die young," Rhys replied with a helpless smile.
He certainly hadn't treated Astoria for the sake of so-called friendship, but Henry was free to interpret it however he liked.
Rhys's expression was clearly seen by Mr. Henry, which made him feel a bit uneasy—he could tell that Rhys truly didn't care about the things he had subtly promised or implied.
And to think, even if Rhys said he wanted to beco Minister for Magic, Henry would have done everything in his power to make that happen. That was the weight of the "friendship of the Greengrass family."
Summoning his courage, he asked the question that concerned him most:"Alright then, please forgive my boldness... but may I ask—who are you, really?"
"?" Rhys looked up at Mr. Henry. "Right now, I go by the na Rhys Chassala Lint."
Henry's heartbeat quickened slightly.
"You understand what I an—I'm asking about your real identity. I'm an adult, and everything you've shown is far beyond the realm of normal explanation."
After hearing Mr. Henry's words, Rhys understood what he ant. It was completely reasonable. Though he had kept things well hidden at school, he had revealed far too much in front of the Greengrass family.
Potion ingredients, ancient spells, his potion-making skills… none of these aligned with the age he appeared to be. Not to ntion, his background story was full of holes.
"Alright then. I am Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin," Rhys said bluntly, no longer wanting to play guessing gas with Henry.
Henry: "..."
His brain montarily stopped working.
That sentence was just too outrageous—it was like soone saying, "I'm Caesar, give fifty gold coins to help revive Ro." It was so absurd that the ridiculous thought crept back into his mind—
Is he lying to ?
That would be any normal person's reaction. A ten-year-old child sits in front of you and claims to be an ancient figure from a thousand years ago—what would you think?
But this was a child with unparalleled healing skills, soone who could cure an illness that had left other masters helpless.
When sothing becos absurd to the extre, it paradoxically starts to feel… plausible.
"Uh—" Mr. Henry felt like his brain's language center had suffered a blow. He didn't know what to say.
"Don't ask for proof—I really don't have a way to prove that I'm ," Rhys said with a smile.
And it was true. Unlike Helena, the Bloody Baron, or Rowena, Henry Greengrass was soone born a full thousand years later. Even if Rhys told him about "Adrian's misadventures in his youth," Henry probably wouldn't know any of it—and might even get angry, thinking Rhys was mocking him.
Mr. Henry fell into silence.
He was thinking.
After analyzing it for a while, he began to accept the news—albeit at an extrely slow pace. But his rational mind was still resisting, and he subconsciously asked, "But how did you—how did you live until now?"
"Plenty of diocre dark wizards manage to cling to life using Horcruxes. Why wouldn't soone like walk a bit farther down the road to immortality?" When speaking of immortality, Rhys's tone grew noticeably more animated.
He gave Henry a brief explanation of his thod for achieving eternal life.
If Henry had been only fifty percent convinced before, then after hearing Rhys's explanation, the credibility in his mind rose to seventy percent.
His gaze couldn't help but drift to the stack of books next to Rhys's hand on the desk.
"Indeed, after sleeping so long, there's a bit of a disconnect with the world. I need to read more books. It's so much easier for wizards to find literature nowadays—it's hard to imagine back then that there would be a shop selling magic books tucked away in so alley," Rhys said with a sigh.
Mr. Henry now felt he fully believed it.
If the person before him truly was Salazar Slytherin, then all the mysteries were neatly explained—and Rhys's kindness now had a reason.
The Greengrass family did, in fact, share a close connection with Slytherin.
Although a thousand years had passed, Lord Slytherin had spent that ti in slumber, so the bond between their families hadn't faded with ti. They had truly benefited from the legacy left behind by their ancestor, Sir Adrian.
It all made sense now.
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