The next few days passed in a blur of routine, but Dorian's mind never strayed far from Ingrid Ravnsborg's cryptic words. The knowledge that there was a hidden chamber beneath Durmstrang, guarded by powerful wards, gnawed at him constantly. He spent hours in the library, scouring the darkest, oldest texts for any mention of it, but all he found were vague references to the school's founders and the ancient magic they had once wielded. Nothing concrete. Nothing he could use.
He had learned early on that power was not always given freely; sometimes, it had to be taken. The chamber was out there—somewhere beneath the cold stone floors of Durmstrang—waiting for him to unlock its secrets. Dorian knew it would not be an easy task, but the ritual in Slytherin's journal demanded it. Without the missing pieces, his ascent would remain incomplete.
One evening, after a long day of fruitless research, Dorian found himself standing at the edge of the castle's sprawling courtyard. The night was bitterly cold, the air heavy with the promise of snow. Above him, the sky was an inky black, dotted with stars that flickered faintly through the swirling clouds.
He had chosen this spot deliberately—isolated, far from the prying eyes of other students. It was here that he would begin his search in earnest.
Pulling his cloak tighter against the cold, Dorian took out his wand, holding it loosely at his side as he closed his eyes and focused. His mind reached out, brushing against the wards that encased Durmstrang like an invisible fortress. The wards were powerful, centuries old, designed to protect the school from intruders and, more importantly, to keep its darkest secrets hidden.
But Dorian was not an intruder. He belonged here.
He let the magic of the wards flow over him, feeling their strength, their intent. He wasn't trying to break through them—that would be foolish and dangerous. Instead, he sought to understand them, to find the cracks in the ancient spellwork. Every enchantment had its weaknesses, and Dorian knew that if he could find those weaknesses, he could use them to his advantage.
Slowly, carefully, he moved through the layers of magic, probing, searching. The wards responded to him, but not as harshly as he had expected. There was resistance, yes, but it was not the violent rejection he had anticipated. It was almost as if the magic recognized him, sensed something familiar in his bloodline.
Salazar Slytherin had been one of Durmstrang's early founders, and while his legacy had been more closely associated with Hogwarts, his influence ran deep within these walls. Dorian had no doubt that the chamber Ingrid spoke of was tied to that legacy, hidden beneath layers of old magic that only a true heir could access.
Minutes passed, then an hour. Dorian stood perfectly still, his mind deep in concentration. The wind bit at his exposed skin, but he ignored it. His focus was elsewhere.
And then he felt it.
A pulse—a faint, almost imperceptible ripple in the wards. It was subtle, but it was there. A disturbance, an anomaly in the otherwise impenetrable web of magic surrounding the castle. His heart quickened as he homed in on the sensation, allowing his magic to trace the source of the disturbance.
It was coming from deep beneath the castle.
Dorian's eyes snapped open, and he lowered his wand, his breath fogging in the cold night air. The chamber existed. He had felt it. But now came the difficult part—finding a way to reach it.
He turned on his heel and made his way back inside, his mind already working through the next steps. Ingrid had warned him that the chamber was guarded by powerful wards, but she had also hinted that there were ways to circumvent them. Dorian suspected that not just anyone could access the chamber—it would require a deep understanding of the old magic, the kind that was woven into his very blood.
As he walked through the darkened corridors of Durmstrang, Dorian considered his options. Ingrid was the only person who had given him any useful information about the chamber so far, and while she had been vague, it was clear that she knew more than she had let on. If he could persuade her to reveal what she knew, it would save him valuable time.
But Ingrid was not easily manipulated. She was shrewd, cautious, and—like Dorian—always thinking several steps ahead. She would not give him the information he needed without something in return. He would have to play this carefully.
By the time he reached the common room of List House, Dorian had made up his mind. He would speak to Ingrid again, but this time, he would be prepared. He would need to offer her something, something that would pique her interest and convince her to help him.
The common room was nearly empty, save for a few students lounging by the fire. Matthias Borgin sat in his usual spot, flipping his silver coin lazily between his fingers, while a few younger students huddled over their textbooks, their faces pale with stress.
Dorian ignored them and made his way toward the dormitory stairs, his thoughts still focused on Ingrid and the chamber. As he passed Matthias, the boy looked up, his expression curious.
"Busy night?" Matthias asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Busy enough," Dorian replied shortly.
Matthias smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You're always so secretive, Selwyn. One of these days, you'll have to let me in on whatever it is you're plotting."
Dorian didn't bother responding. Matthias was a distraction, nothing more. His ambition was limited, his reach shallow. He could be useful in small ways, but Dorian had no intention of sharing his true goals with him.
As he reached the dormitory, Dorian made his way to his private room, grateful for the solitude it offered. He needed time to think, to plan. Ingrid was the key to unlocking the chamber, but he would have to approach her carefully. If he played his cards right, he could gain her trust—or at least convince her that their interests were aligned.
But there was something else nagging at him, something deeper.
The pulse he had felt in the wards earlier—it had been faint, but unmistakable. There was more to this chamber than just ancient magic. He could feel it in his bones. Whatever was hidden beneath Durmstrang, it was powerful. And dangerous.
Dorian moved to his desk and opened the Journal of Salazar Slytherin, flipping through the pages until he reached the section on the ritual. The more he read, the more convinced he became that the missing pieces of the ritual were connected to the chamber. The ancient magic described in the journal matched the feeling he had sensed in the wards—dark, primal, and deeply tied to the Selwyn and Slytherin bloodlines.
But the journal didn't give him enough information. It hinted at power, but it didn't provide a clear path to it. Dorian needed more, and the chamber was the only place he would find the answers.
He closed the journal and leaned back in his chair, his mind spinning with possibilities. Time was of the essence. The more he delayed, the more likely it was that someone else would discover the chamber—or worse, that the wards would shift, making it impossible to access.
Tomorrow, he would confront Ingrid. He would find out what she knew about the chamber and what it would take to gain entry. If she could be an ally, then he would use her. If she proved to be an obstacle, then he would remove her.
One way or another, he would unlock the secrets hidden beneath Durmstrang.
And once he did, the power of the old magic would be his to command.
The next morning, Dorian rose early, determined to put his plan into action. The castle was quiet as he made his way to the Våld House common room, where he knew Ingrid would be. The students of Våld were known for their early morning training sessions, and Dorian suspected that Ingrid, as head of the house, would be among them.
He wasn't wrong.
As he entered the common room, he spotted Ingrid standing by one of the tall windows, her back to the room as she looked out over the snow-covered courtyard. She didn't turn when he approached, but he knew she had sensed him.
"Selwyn," she said, her voice calm. "Up early again. What brings you to Våld House?"
Dorian stopped a few feet away, keeping his voice steady. "You gave me a lead. I intend to follow it."
Ingrid finally turned to face him, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his. "The chamber."
Dorian nodded. "I felt it. The wards, the magic—it's there, beneath the castle."
Ingrid raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Most wouldn't have been able to sense it. You're more attuned to the old magic than I thought."
"I'm not most people," Dorian replied, his voice cool.
Ingrid smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in it. "No, you're not."
They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Dorian knew that Ingrid had the upper hand—she knew more than he did, and she wasn't going to give up that knowledge without a price.
"What do you want, Ingrid?" Dorian asked finally, cutting to the chase. "You know something about the chamber. What will it take for you to tell me?"
Ingrid's smile widened, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I'll help you, Selwyn. But in return, I want something. Something only you can offer."
Dorian's eyes narrowed. "And what might that be?"
Ingrid leaned in, her breath cold against his ear. "When you unlock the chamber, I want a share of whatever power lies within. We both know that place holds something valuable—something dangerous. And I want a part of it."
Dorian considered her words carefully. Ingrid was playing her own game, but her goals aligned with his—for now. She wanted power, just like he did. And if working together meant gaining access to the chamber, then so be it.
"Agreed," Dorian said, his voice firm.
Ingrid pulled back, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Then we have a deal."
She turned back to the window, her tone dismissive. "Meet me tonight, after dark. We'll find the entrance together."
Dorian gave a curt nod before turning to leave. As he walked away, a thrill of anticipation coursed through him. The chamber was within his grasp. Tonight, he would uncover its secrets, and with them, he would unlock the full power of his bloodline.
But even as he left Våld House, one thought lingered in his mind.
Ingrid was dangerous. And Dorian knew that alliances, no matter how useful, could be broken.
He would keep her close. But he would also be ready.