*Heir to the Serpent Lord*

Chapter 6 and 7: The Awakening of Pendragon's Heir

The two chapters were too short so I combined them.
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Two days had passed since the Slytherin heir ritual, and Saber's body still pulsed with the remnants of ancient magic. His once fragile and broken frame now carried the weight of two legendary bloodlines—Slytherin and Pendragon. Though the serpentine markings of the Slytherin heir ritual had faded beneath his skin, their power was alive, coiling like living snakes under his flesh, and he felt their presence constantly.

But even with this newfound strength, Saber was still in pain. His injuries, though hidden beneath bandages, were not yet healed. Voldemort, ever-watchful, remained close, ensuring his son was cared for. The small, magical snakes that had become a part of Saber's life were coiled protectively around him, a comforting presence on this particular morning.

Saber sat at the edge of his bed, wincing as he tried to tighten the bandages around his chest. His small hands trembled slightly, still not used to the strange sensation of the serpents beneath his skin. Before he could make any progress, the door creaked open, and Voldemort entered the room, his expression softening at the sight of his son struggling.

"You shouldn't do that on your own," Voldemort said, kneeling beside him. With practiced ease, he began to replace the bandages, his hands moving with care and precision. "You're still healing. These injuries will take time."

Saber remained silent, watching his father's gentle movements. He was filled with gratitude and confusion. He had been saved from a life of torment, and now the man he had once been taught to fear was the one who cared for him so closely. This man was not just his father—he was his protector.

"Does it still hurt?" Voldemort asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Saber nodded slightly. "A little. The potions help, but... it still hurts sometimes."

Voldemort's gaze darkened for a moment, but not with anger. It was a quiet fury, directed at those who had inflicted the wounds on his son. Still, his voice was calm when he replied. "The pain will pass. You are already growing into the power that is your birthright."

Once the bandages were secure, Voldemort rose and gestured toward the door. "Come. There is someone you need to meet."

Saber followed his father out of the room, the small snakes still nestled around his arms. Their cool scales slithered beneath his clothing, but they had become a comfort to him, an extension of the power he had gained through the Slytherin heir ritual.

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**Chapter 7: Meeting Sol Pendragon**

Voldemort led Saber deeper into the lower chambers of Slytherin Castle, through corridors that echoed with the whispers of ancient magic. They passed by countless rooms, until finally they stopped before a large set of doors engraved with a dragon's crest, glowing faintly in the torchlight. Voldemort whispered an incantation, and the doors opened with a slow, heavy groan.

Inside was a room unlike anything Saber had ever seen. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting ancient battles fought by wizards and dragons. At the center of the room was a large pool of silvery water that shimmered with an ethereal glow, and above it, suspended by magic, was an ancient sword, its hilt gleaming with emeralds and rubies.

"This," Voldemort said, his voice low and filled with reverence, "is where the legacy of Pendragon awakens. But you are not the last of this line, Saber. There is someone else you need to understand."

Before Saber could ask what his father meant, the air around them shifted. Green flames burst to life in the fireplace, swirling with magic. A figure stepped through the fire—a young boy, no older than 14 by appearance, though his golden eyes and silver hair held a wisdom that went far beyond his years. He wore fine robes adorned with the Pendragon crest, and a mischievous smile played on his lips.