Year One — Chapter 9: The Serpent's Whisper
Durmstrang's Defense Master liked to test his students with monsters. Not dark creatures in the Hogwarts sense — no boggarts or grindylows for children to practice on — but beasts that could wound, scar, or kill. His philosophy was simple: if you can't face death, you don't deserve to live in its world.
That winter, he brought out a serpent.
It was no basilisk — not yet, not here — but it was large enough that its coils dragged like heavy chains across the packed snow. Its eyes glowed yellow in the torchlight, its scales mottled black and green. Students whispered and shuffled back, even the older ones.
"Stand your ground!" the professor barked. "This is no pet, this is hunger. Fear it, and you're meat."
The serpent hissed, slow and low. The sound slithered through the crowd like a blade.
Ivar didn't move. His green eyes fixed on the creature. The hiss wasn't noise to him. It was language.
Who comes before me? the serpent asked, voice sliding like silk through his skull. Children. Prey. Meat.
The other students stiffened, sensing menace but not meaning. Only Ivar heard the words.
He stepped forward.
I am no meat, he answered in Parseltongue, his voice carrying like the hiss of flame. I am heir. I am shadow. You will bow.
The serpent froze, tongue flicking. The yard was silent but for the crackle of torches. Then, impossibly, the massive head lowered until its jaw touched snow.
Gasps erupted.
The professor's eyes widened, suspicion and awe warring in his face.
Ivar lifted his wand, but he did not cast. He simply placed its elderwood length against the serpent's skull, a gesture not of threat but of pact. Hellfire flickered faintly at the tip, green-black flame curling like a crown around the beast's head before vanishing.
The serpent hissed again, softer now. Master.
Ivar smiled faintly. "Good evening," he whispered.
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The Crowd
Jannik let out a low whistle. "Well. That's one way to silence a crowd."
Klara only shook her head, scar-knuckled fist tightening. "You just painted a target on your back. No one's going to forget this."
"They shouldn't," Ivar said calmly. "Fear fades. Memory endures."
And indeed, it spread through the school like wildfire: Malfoy the Black, the boy who spoke to snakes. Whispers of "dark" followed him now, but so did fascination. Students who had sneered before began watching him differently — wary, respectful, calculating.
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The Professors
The Defense Master pulled him aside afterward, eyes narrowed. "That tongue of yours… that's Slytherin's gift."
Ivar's expression was calm, unreadable. "It's mine."
The man studied him for a long, heavy moment, then muttered, "Durmstrang breeds warriors, not monsters. See that you remain the first."
But Ivar only inclined his head, offering no promise at all.
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The Letter Home
That night, he wrote to Narcissa:
Mother,
They call me dark. They fear me. But they also listen when I speak, and bow when I command. Perhaps that is enough.
—Ivar
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Alone
Later, he returned to the ritual chamber. The serpent's hiss still echoed in his ears, not as menace but as harmony. He sat cross-legged in the circle, wand across his knees, and whispered in Parseltongue:
Selena.
The word meant nothing yet, but it lingered in the air like a promise.
One day, when he met the serpent that truly mattered, it would already have a name.
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⚡ End of Chapter 9
Would you like Chapter 10 (the Year One finale) to center on the end-of-year trials where he proves himself beyond any doubt — effectively "graduating out" of several subjects OR to shift back toward Britain, showing Lucius, Narcissa, and even Dumbledore reacting to how quickly Ivar's reputation is spreading?