The snow-covered peaks of the Durmstrang mountains glistened beneath the pale morning sun, but inside the castle's darkened halls, Dorian moved with silent purpose. The lingering conversation with Ingrid Ravnsborg from the previous day remained fresh in his mind. She had recognized his ambition, seen the shadow of his family's legacy hanging over him like a specter, and more importantly, she had offered a glimpse of her respect. But respect wasn't enough. Dorian needed more.
Ingrid was powerful, but she was still a piece on the board. Her strength could be useful—if he could determine her true intentions. Durmstrang was filled with ambitious students, all vying for influence, all chasing power. Some sought it through brute force, like Lukas Grimmel, others through manipulation, like Matthias Borgin, but Ingrid was different. She was controlled, methodical. It made her both dangerous and intriguing.
Dorian's thoughts shifted back to the Journal of Salazar Slytherin and the missing pieces of the ritual it described. His search in Durmstrang's library had yielded nothing concrete so far, but he was confident the knowledge he sought was hidden somewhere in the vast archives. He needed to find it, and quickly. The ritual would be the key to unlocking his full potential—a way to elevate himself beyond any ordinary wizard.
He made his way through the winding corridors toward the library once again, but today, he wasn't alone. Footsteps echoed behind him, and he didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"Selwyn."
Dorian paused, allowing a small smile to touch his lips before turning to face Matthias Borgin, who approached with his usual swagger. The boy had a way of making himself seem more important than he was, but Dorian knew that Matthias, while useful, was far from the power he imagined himself to hold.
"Matthias," Dorian greeted coolly. "Out for a stroll?"
Matthias gave a lopsided grin, flipping the silver coin in his hand as he walked. "You could say that. But it seems like you're up early for something more than just a walk. Headed to the library again?"
Dorian studied him for a moment before nodding. "There are still things to be learned."
Matthias raised an eyebrow. "You're relentless, Selwyn. It's been barely two days, and you're already diving into the archives like you're on a mission. What exactly are you looking for?"
Dorian gave him a measured look. Matthias was fishing, trying to figure out what Dorian's goals were. It wasn't surprising—everyone in Durmstrang was looking for an edge, and knowing what someone else was after often provided leverage. But Dorian wasn't one to reveal his cards so easily.
"History," Dorian said simply. "My family's legacy stretches back farther than most. There are certain… gaps in what I know. I intend to fill them."
Matthias chuckled, though there was an edge of nervousness to it. "Always the secretive one, huh? I get it—everyone here's got something to hide." He flicked his coin into the air, catching it with a flourish before tucking it into his pocket. "Just be careful, yeah? The deeper you dig into the past, the more likely you are to uncover things better left buried."
Dorian smiled faintly, his eyes cold. "I don't fear the past, Matthias. I intend to use it."
Matthias held his gaze for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough. Just don't go getting yourself killed. Durmstrang's not exactly forgiving to those who dig too deep."
With that, Matthias gave a small wave and turned on his heel, disappearing down the corridor. Dorian watched him go, his thoughts already returning to the journal. Matthias was a distraction, a minor player in the grander scheme of things. His attempts at friendliness were transparent, but Dorian knew how to handle such people. As long as Matthias believed there was something to gain from aligning with Dorian, he would stay close. But Dorian knew better than to trust anyone.
The library was quiet when Dorian arrived, the only sound the rustle of pages turning as a few early-rising students sat scattered among the tables, deep in study. The air smelled of dust and old parchment, and the dim light filtering through the tall windows gave the room an almost ethereal quality. Dorian moved through the rows of shelves, his fingers brushing against the spines of ancient tomes as he searched for something—anything—that might hold the missing pieces of Slytherin's ritual.
Hours passed as Dorian poured over books of dark rituals, forbidden spells, and ancient runes. There were fragments of information, hints of the kind of magic he was seeking, but nothing concrete. Frustration gnawed at him, but he refused to let it show. The knowledge was here, somewhere. He simply needed to find it.
As the sun began to rise higher in the sky, casting long beams of light across the floor, a shadow fell across the table where Dorian sat. He looked up to see Ingrid Ravnsborg standing there, her arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes studying him with quiet intensity.
"You're persistent," she said, her voice low but not unkind.
Dorian closed the book he had been reading, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Persistence is how you achieve results."
Ingrid's lips curved into a small smile. "True. But results don't always come from books."
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "What do you suggest, then?"
Ingrid uncrossed her arms and moved to sit across from him, her movements graceful and deliberate. "There are things here at Durmstrang that you won't find in any book, no matter how ancient. Power runs through these walls, Selwyn, but it's not always written down."
Dorian's interest was piqued. Ingrid had a way of speaking that suggested she knew more than she was letting on. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "And where might I find this… unwritten power?"
Ingrid tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "You're looking for something specific, aren't you? Something tied to your family."
Dorian didn't answer immediately, his mind racing. Ingrid was sharp, sharper than most. She had already deduced that his search wasn't just about gaining knowledge—it was personal.
"You're observant," Dorian said carefully. "Yes, I'm searching for something specific. Something that could change everything."
Ingrid studied him for a moment before speaking again, her voice soft but laced with power. "I've heard whispers of certain… rituals. Old magic, the kind that only a few families still know. Durmstrang was built on such knowledge, but much of it has been hidden away, kept secret even from those who seek it."
Dorian's pulse quickened, though he kept his expression neutral. "Go on."
Ingrid leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's a chamber beneath the castle. An old one, from the time of the school's founders. It's not marked on any map, but it's real. The professors don't speak of it, and few students even know it exists. But those who do…"
She trailed off, her eyes locked on Dorian's. He understood immediately. The chamber she spoke of—it could be the key to everything. If there were any place where the missing pieces of Slytherin's ritual could be found, it would be there.
"How do I find it?" Dorian asked, his voice steady.
Ingrid sat back, crossing her arms again. "That's the thing, Selwyn. It's not as simple as just walking in. The chamber is guarded by old magic, powerful wards that protect its secrets. Only those deemed worthy can enter."
Dorian's mind raced. Wards and magical protections were nothing new to him, but if these were as powerful as Ingrid suggested, he would need more than just brute force to break through them.
"Worthy?" Dorian repeated, his tone thoughtful. "And what makes someone worthy?"
Ingrid smiled slightly. "That's for you to figure out."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Ingrid had given him valuable information, but she hadn't given him everything. She was testing him, seeing if he could rise to the challenge. Dorian knew that she had her own agenda, but for now, their goals seemed to align.
"Thank you," Dorian said finally, his voice cool and measured. "I'll find the chamber."
Ingrid stood, smoothing her robes as she did. "I have no doubt you will. But be careful, Selwyn. Durmstrang's secrets are dangerous. More dangerous than you realize."
Dorian watched as she walked away, disappearing into the maze of shelves. His mind was already turning over the possibilities. The chamber she spoke of—it was the next step. If he could find it, if he could unlock its secrets, then he would have the power he needed. But Ingrid's warning lingered in his thoughts. Dangerous, she had said.
Dorian wasn't afraid of danger. He welcomed it.
That night, Dorian sat by the window of his dormitory, the journal of Salazar Slytherin open on his lap. The passage describing the ritual stared up at him, incomplete but tantalizing. The chamber beneath Durmstrang—it had to hold the answers he was seeking. Slytherin's legacy ran through his veins, and the old magic would recognize him as its heir. He was certain of it.
Outside, the storm continued to rage, the wind howling through the mountains like a beast in the dark. Dorian's eyes flicked to the snow-covered landscape, the distant peaks barely visible in the night.
"Power is earned, not given," he murmured, repeating Ingrid's words to himself.
He would find the chamber. He would unlock the secrets within. And when he did, the power of the Selwyn bloodline would be his to command.
Dorian closed the journal, his resolve hardening. The serpent's coil was tightening, and soon, he would strike.