Early 17th century, midsummer June, Mount Greylock.
The Horned Serpent glided silently beneath the creek's surface, watching from a distance. For six months, it had observed the wizarding family that had settled here, building a granite cabin. Over the past two months, it had kept its distance, unsure about approaching these human wizards.
That morning, a vision of the future had stirred it—a looming crisis could no longer be ignored. It had come to wait here.
When the witch drew near, the serpent flicked its tail, emerging from the water.
"Isolt Sayre…
"Fate has guided you to Greylock. I know the blood of Slytherin flows in your veins. You stole his wand, and his descendants will not let you go.
"Go back, be vigilant—the crisis is coming."
"…"
Two weeks later, the prophecy came true.
Gormlaith Gaunt, tracking her niece, arrived at the fledgling magical school. Slytherin's snakewood wand was powerless against Parseltongue, and a curse sent Isolt and her husband into a deep slumber.
As Gormlaith prepared to kill them in their sleep, the Horned Serpent, through the wand, warned their adopted son. With the help of their animal friends and a Pukwudgie, Isolt's family shot a poisoned arrow through Gormlaith's heart.
From that day, Ilvermorny was born with its four houses: Pukwudgie, Wampus, Thunderbird, and Horned Serpent.
Slytherin's wand was buried atop the mountain, where it soon sprouted into a vibrant snakewood tree.
The Horned Serpent lingered in the creek, watching the school grow. The modest granite cabin became a grand castle, and a statue of the serpent, its eyes set with gleaming gems, was erected at the entrance.
Decades later, an elderly witch hobbled to the creek, leaning on her cane.
The Horned Serpent surfaced again, its silver slit-pupils glinting with wisdom. "Are you dying?"
The old witch's kind smile faltered, but she nodded stiffly.
"Anything you wish to entrust to me? Protect this school, shelter its students and staff?"
"…"
The witch looked at the serpent, nodding, then shaking her head.
The New World's wizarding population was growing, and Ilvermorny would only grow stronger, standing for a thousand years like Hogwarts. If the school ever fell, it would be due to internal strife.
But this serpent had always lingered alone in the creek.
"I know you prefer solitude and rarely show yourself to students, but I'll say this: if you meet a student you like, befriend them, like you did with me when we first met."
"…"
The creek babbled on, and time slipped by until Christmas 1990.
Mount Greylock seemed unchanged—trees and mists as they'd always been, animals born and dying, just as they had three hundred years ago, seven hundred years ago.
The Horned Serpent floated in the creek, moving slowly.
The student who'd left school early had come to say a final goodbye, subtly asking if it had seen any visions of his future—where he should go, what he should do. But the serpent gave no clear answers. It was no longer the creature that could foresee the future as it had three centuries ago.
Its body was aging, its magic fading.
The creek's cold waters brushed against its scales, and its serpent eyes blurred with a fleeting daze. It recalled the student practicing magic by the water, which led its thoughts to the founder witch.
Back when its foresight was sharp, it could see crises weeks away, even the witch's impending death. But even at its strongest, it could never predict its own end. Now, with its vision dimmed, unable to see clearly, it sensed its own death approaching.
Three hundred years ago, when it parted with the old witch, it hadn't imagined it would one day face its own farewell. The Horned Serpent felt a strange echo of Isolt's calm acceptance—no panic, no unease, just an odd serenity.
"…"
But Melvin was still too young to accept a farewell defined by life and death.
Best not to tell him yet.
Slytherin's relics, the magic of fantastic beasts—let him explore those on his own.
His life, after all, was still long.
With that thought, the Horned Serpent sank back into the icy creek, exhaling a stream of fine bubbles. The cold lulled its body into an unprecedented drowsiness, and it hoped to drift into an eternal sleep.
…
Late at night, Melvin's eyes snapped open.
"It was just a dream…"
Sitting up, he sensed a shift in his magic, different from before. Instinctively, he wanted to cast a spell but suppressed the urge, reaching for his wand instead. The magic flowed lightly, effortlessly.
Hum…
The wand seemed to hum with delight.
A wisp of pure silver light bloomed at the tip, silent and ethereal, like frost or silk. It was cool yet calming, mirroring the moonlight outside.
Melvin stared at the light, transfixed.
This wasn't a Lumos charm—just the wand's core and wood responding naturally to his magic, glowing on its own.
This wasn't his original wand. After meeting the Horned Serpent, he'd crafted this one using its shed horn and snakewood from the tree, driven by a whim and a few basic library books.
Wandmaking was an art refined over centuries. If a child could master it with a few books, Ollivander and Gregorovitch would've gone out of business long ago.
The wand's core was from a rare Horned Serpent, its wood modeled after Slytherin's snakewood. The result backfired constantly, leaving him as clumsy as Seamus or Ron during spell practice.
In the end, the serpent had taken it back, nurturing it for months until it became this perfectly attuned wand.
Melvin dimmed the light, studying the wand.
When he'd received unicorn or dragon magic before, the wand hadn't reacted so naturally. This change came from his own magical awakening, not a gift from another wizard or creature.
The soul was the source of magic, influenced by emotions and thoughts, which in turn shaped the magic itself.
A wizard's magic could transform during major life events or intense emotional shifts—a process Headmaster Fontana had called "magical awakening," the crucible that often forged exceptional wizards.
"…"
Sleep now eluded Melvin. He rose and sat by the bedroom window.
The room was elegantly European, with wooden window frames and wallpaper adorned with green vine and leaf patterns, reminiscent of sprawling snakewood branches.
His classmates had graduated and moved on, their old dorm now housing new students. Melvin had been assigned a room near the founder's cabin—a guest room hastily prepared by a Pukwudgie, now a teacher's quarters.
Returning to Ilvermorny after two years, he'd gone from student to professor. Once, he might've found it amusing, but now he felt nothing.
The moonlight was clear and bright, illuminating the trees outside without need for a lamp. Occasionally, an owl flitted by.
The young wizard gazed out, time slipping away unnoticed. Eventually, he picked up the serpent egg from the bedside table, studying it closely.
The egg's shell was grayish-white, larger than a goose egg, too big to hold in one hand. Its surface shimmered faintly, more like polished jade than an eggshell. Inside, it didn't feel like ordinary yolk—there were signs of life, vibrant and active.
The unhatched creature seemed to sense his emotions. Though it couldn't respond, Melvin's magical perception caught subtle shifts in the shell's faint glow, as if it were offering comfort.
Melvin frowned, lost in thought.
Now the question was: how to hatch this thing?
…
At last, the sun rose, the deep blue night fading as purple-red dawn broke through the clouds. Sunlight filtered through the mist, casting delicate beams that seemed almost tangible, warming the castle's outer walls.
Birds chirped eagerly, and Ilvermorny buzzed with life, the castle and surrounding woods pulsing with vitality.
It was perfect weather for hatching an egg.
"The Restricted Section…"
Melvin muttered as he pushed open the library doors, heading for the shelves on magical creatures.
Though not as vast as Hogwarts' collection, Ilvermorny's library was impressive.
Weaving through the stacks, he occasionally passed a Pukwudgie cleaning or organizing books. They exchanged silent nods, a quiet understanding between them.
To avoid stepping on a freshly mopped floor, Melvin gathered his books and headed to the snakewood tree by the founder's cabin, choosing a spot with sunlight but no glare.
He tapped a branch, and the vines wove together, forming a swing.
Melvin sat and began flipping through his materials.
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: A Unique North American Journey
Incubation and Care of Serpentine Creatures
How to Befriend a Venomous Snake
These were reputable texts on serpentine magical creatures, authored by experts, including Newt Scamander himself.
They covered common snakes but skimmed over 5X-level dangerous creatures. Even with Melvin's limited knowledge, he spotted gaps. Basilisks and Runespoors were only briefly mentioned.
Even Scamander, the century's greatest magical creature expert, could only summarize Horned Serpents and Basilisks based on existing records, glossing over details like incubation.
"The Horned Serpent has horns on its head, hence its name."
Melvin: …
Scamander's scholarly caution was evident, his wording careful for unverified information.
Melvin sighed. Finding specific incubation details for a Horned Serpent in books seemed hopeless. He'd have to look at other snakes' methods for inspiration.
Data on Horned Serpents was scarce, but Basilisk incubation was well-documented, if mostly anecdotal.
According to anonymous historical records, Herpo the Foul was the first to breed a Basilisk, incubating a chicken egg under a toad to create the giant venomous serpent.
"Since the Middle Ages, breeding Basilisks has been illegal, but it's easily concealed, as one only needs to remove the egg from the toad before the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures arrives…"
Melvin felt a mix of absurdity and frustration.
It sounded simple, but if Basilisk breeding were that easy, they wouldn't have vanished for four hundred years.
Inducing a rooster to lay an egg, coaxing a toad to incubate it, timing it with the right celestial alignment, and possibly using potions… the process was likely as complex as creating a Horcrux.
"…"
And come to think of it, the rough process of making a Horcrux seemed deceptively simple too.
Melvin scoured his books but found no clear answers.
Tossing the materials onto the grass, he pushed off, letting the swing sway as he gazed at the dew sparkling in the sunlight, pondering ways to hatch the egg.
Incubating it himself seemed unlikely. Consulting a magical creature expert, perhaps?
"Hagrid?"
Melvin shook his head, ruling him out as unreliable.
"Professor Kettleburn?"
He could ask back at school, but it didn't seem promising.
"Mr. Scamander?"
He could probably reach him through the Headmaster, but even an expert would struggle with a creature they'd never seen.
For sheer experience, Nicolas Flamel might be the best bet. In his six hundred years, he might've encountered a Horned Serpent and could offer an alchemical hatching method.
"Six hundred years… snake breeding… given his expertise, the best choice might be…"
Melvin stopped the swing, looking up at the lush snakewood tree, murmuring, "Salazar Slytherin?"
Slytherin had been dead for nearly a millennium, so consulting him was impossible. But his heirs were still around, and they weren't as rare as a Horned Serpent.
Melvin's expression turned peculiar.
…
Thousands of miles away, at Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy stood in the attic, staring at an old diary in a dusty wooden box, his brow furrowed with worry about how to handle it.
The Ministry was cracking down on dark magical items again.
For any sensible wizard, this was a routine matter—gather for drinks, pool some Galleons and minor dark artifacts, hand some to the Ministry staff, and keep some "'evidence'" for their reports.
Wealth secured, merits earned.
It was all for show, benefiting everyone.
But the Ministry had assigned this task to that pure-blood disgrace, Weasley, who was stubborn, unreasonable, and particularly harsh on former Death Eaters like Lucius. Just days ago, he'd barged into the homes of old Crabbe and Goyle for searches.
Lucius stared at the diary, a cold glint in his eyes as he recalled the film's final Easter egg.
He didn't dare destroy it. Let someone braver deal with it.