Those cunning folk used any means
sound is part of the experience, so perhaps unmute what follows
"Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness"
Four traits, one house. Salazar Slytherin looked for these qualities above blood, above wealth, above all else.
A hunger for greatness that does not apologize for wanting more.
The wit to find the third door when the first two are locked.
Making do, and more than do, with whatever is at hand.
Once a Slytherin sets their course, very little turns them from it.
One of the four founders of Hogwarts, Salazar valued ambition, cunning and above all, pure magical heritage: a belief that set him apart from his fellow founders.
When Slytherin's vision of the school was rejected, he left Hogwarts, but not before leaving something behind. Something hidden. Something that would sleep in the dark for a thousand years, waiting for an heir who could speak to it.
"There is nothing worse than living in a state of shabby gentility."
A tap shaped like a snake that has never worked. Some things are not plumbing: they are doors.
Students report a slow, dry sound moving through the pipes at night: something long, something heavy, something that does not use its legs.
A small black book, unremarkable but for one detail: ink written into it does not stay written. It answers. Someone is still inside it.
Parseltongue cannot be taught. But perhaps, for the purposes of this website, Python will do. The Chamber below is listening.
This door does not open to knocking, passwords, or pleading.
It opens only for those who can speak to it, and this Chamber, being a website, understands exactly one tongue.
It understands Python.
Enter to run, Shift+Enter for a new line. The Chamber is listening; it will know its own name when it hears it.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Sixty feet of it, coiled along the corridor floor. Something outgrew its old shape recently.
Deep gouges in solid granite. Whatever passed here did not go around obstacles.
Do not look directly at them. This is not a suggestion: it is a survival tip.
A small black book. Something is still writing inside it.
The Dark Lord notices those who remember the old codes.
Seven clicks. Seven pieces. You have found one of them, though hopefully with far fewer consequences than the last person who went looking.