HP: Dragon's Coffin

An hour later, Ladon's footsteps echoed softly against the cold stone floor, his small hand clutching his mother's as they followed the towering figure of Hepius through the grand underground hallway. The air was cool and heavy, carrying a faint metallic tang, as though the stones themselves breathed ancient secrets.

Massive stone pillars lined the corridor, each one carved in the shape of a coiled dragon. Their serpentine forms twisted upward, their mouths open in eternal roars, as though caught mid-scream by some unseen sculptor. The dragons' eyes, hollow and unblinking, seemed to follow their every move, casting long, eerie shadows that danced under the dim flicker of lanterns hanging above.

The ceiling arched high above them, its surface etched with elaborate patterns that glinted faintly in the low light. The lanterns swayed ever so slightly, their flames casting a golden glow that pooled at their feet, leaving the edges of the hallway shrouded in shadow.

Asclepius walked ahead, his silver hair gleaming like starlight in the gloom, his black coat swirling with every measured step. He moved with the confidence of one who belonged, the dragons seemingly bowing to him in silent reverence. His voice broke the silence, low and deliberate. "Do you feel it, young Ladon? The pulse of magic beneath your feet?"

Ladon nodded hesitantly, his wide eyes darting to his mother, who offered him a reassuring squeeze. The power in this place was palpable, a quiet hum in the air that resonated in his bones. It felt alive, ancient, and watching.

He still couldn't quite believe that he came from a family of wizards. 

Flashback to an hour ago:

"Dragon's Coffin," Ladon asked, puzzled by the odd term. He sat on the couch, his legs barely reaching the edge, staring up at the imposing figure of Asclepius. The man stood like a shadow against the dim light of the room, his silver reptilian eyes glinting as he regarded the boy with an expression that was equal parts stern and expectant.

His mother and the man with the strange eyes chuckled at his cute, confused face.

"I will get to that later, but first, let me start by saying that you come from a lineage most would dare not whisper about," Asclepius began, his voice smooth and resonant, every word landing with deliberate weight. "A family of wizards and sorcerers whose magic has shaped the tides of history. Power flows through your veins, boy—ancient, unyielding power."

The boy blinked, gripping the fabric of the couch as though it might steady him. "But… I don't feel anything. I don't even know how to use magic."

Asclepius tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Not yet," he said simply. He gestured toward the boy's mother, who sat beside him, her face pale but her eyes unwavering. "Your mother has hidden this truth from you, but not out of malice. She sought to protect you, to shield you from the dangers that come with your bloodline."

The boy turned to his mother, his voice trembling. "You… you knew?"

His mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her expression was soft, tinged with regret, but there was a flicker of something else—pride. "I knew, sweetheart," she said quietly. "I've always known. I'm not a squib, as some would call people who can't use magic but come from magical parents. I'm a sorceress, though I gave up practicing magic long ago to keep you safe."

Asclepius stepped closer, his presence commanding attention. "She abandoned her craft, yes. But make no mistake, her magic still burns as brightly as the stars. And so does yours. It is not a matter of if, but when it will awaken. I will help with that, later. The question is whether you will control it—or if it will control you."

Ladon swallowed hard, his gaze shifting between his mother and the man who seemed to know more about his family than he did. "What does that mean? Am I… dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" Asclepius echoed, crouching slightly to bring himself to the boy's eye level. "No, child. You are not dangerous. You are potential—raw, unshaped potential. But without guidance, that potential can be destructive. That is why I am here. To show you the path. To teach you who you truly are."

The boy hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. "And who am I?"

Asclepius smiled then, his dragon-like eyes gleaming with something ancient and unfathomable. "You are the heir to a legacy of power. A legacy the world has tried to forget but cannot escape. You are a wizard, a sorcerer, or perhaps… something even more."

The room fell silent, Ladon's small chest rising and falling as he tried to process the enormity of what he had just heard. His mother wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

Now, as they reached the end of the hallway, an enormous door loomed before them, its surface engraved with the image of a dragon encircling a sun. The intricate carvings seemed to shift under the dim light, as if alive and waiting. Asclepius turned, his silver eyes glowing faintly in the lantern light, and said, "Beyond this door lies the start of your journey. Are you ready to face it?"

Ladon swallowed hard, his small frame trembling slightly as he stared at the imposing door. The weight of Asclepius' words hung in the air like a challenge he wasn't sure he could meet. He glanced up at his mother, seeking reassurance. She knelt beside him, her warm smile melting some of the tension in his chest.

"Go on, dear," she said softly, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "Open the door and see what exciting things await you."

Encouraged by her words, Ladon took a shaky step forward. His fingers hovered over the cold, carved surface of the door before finally pressing against it. The moment his skin made contact, a faint glow spread from his fingertips, racing along the intricate dragon design like golden lightning. The entire engraving lit up in a radiant burst of light, and with a deep rumble, the door began to move.

It swung open slowly, revealing a vast archive beyond—a library unlike anything Ladon could have imagined. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and leather-bound tomes, an ancient quiet hanging over the room like a sacred veil. Towering shelves stretched impossibly high, packed with books whose spines gleamed faintly under the soft, golden light of ornate chandeliers. The ceiling arched above them like the ribcage of a sleeping beast, painted in deep, swirling constellations that seemed to shift when he stared too long.

At the center of the room sat a massive pedestal, and upon it rested a coiled dragon statue carved from obsidian. Its eyes, twin emeralds, glimmered faintly as if aware of their presence. The dragon's mouth was slightly open, and within it lay an open book, its pages blank and waiting.

Asclepius stepped beside him, his long coat sweeping the polished marble floor. "This," he said, his voice reverberating through the vast space, "is the Dragon's Coffin. The heart of all magic your family has ever wielded, recorded in these very walls. Every spell, every secret, every triumph, and every failure." He gestured to the countless shelves. "And this is your inheritance."

Ladon stared in awe, his fear momentarily forgotten as the magnitude of the room and its treasures pressed down on him. He turned to Asclepius, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do I do now?"

Asclepius placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, his silver eyes narrowing. "You read, you learn, and you grow. But first…" He gestured toward the dragon pedestal. "You must place your hand upon the Coffin. It will recognize you… or it will not."

The boy hesitated, then stepped forward, the dragon's emerald gaze meeting his as if issuing its own silent challenge. Taking a deep breath, Ladon reached out, his hand trembling as it moved toward the open book nestled within the dragon's jaws.

As Ladon's trembling hand touched the Coffin, a rush of energy surged through his body, like lightning racing through his veins. The dragon statue's emerald eyes flared to life, glowing with an eerie, pulsating light that mirrored the magical storm now coursing through him. He gasped, his eyes widening as they transformed—shifting from their innocent blackish grey to a luminous, slit-pupil emerald, reflecting the dragon's gaze.

The Coffin responded instantly. Green tendrils of energy erupted from the book, snaking up his arm, wrapping around him like living vines. His hand, now glowing with the same radiant energy, felt both foreign and powerful, as if it had become a conduit for something ancient and alive. Sparks crackled at his fingertips, and a faint, otherworldly hum filled the room, growing louder with every passing second.

Behind him, his mother stifled a gasp, her own eyes welling with tears of awe and pride. Asclepius stood motionless, his silver eyes fixed on the boy with an intensity that seemed almost reverent.

"Remarkable," Asclepius murmured, his voice low and filled with a rare hint of wonder. "The Coffin has chosen you. It recognizes your blood, your potential."

Ladon, overwhelmed by the surge of power, stumbled backward, his glowing hand trembling. The energy began to subside, retreating back into the Coffin as if satisfied. His eyes, however, remained slit-pupiled and dragon-like, a permanent mark of his awakening.

"What... what just happened?" Ladon asked, his voice barely audible over the lingering hum in the air.

"You have been accepted," Asclepius said, his tone laced with both gravity and triumph. "The magic within you has awakened. This is only the beginning, Ladon. The power you now wield is your inheritance. Control it, or it will consume you."

Ladon stared at his glowing hand, the energy fading but leaving a faint warmth behind, as if the magic had become part of him. He looked back at the dragon statue, its emerald eyes dimming once more, and realized the truth in Asclepius's words.

'Magic was weird,' he thought, before passing out.

{🐉}

The room was dimly lit, the golden glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows on the walls. Asclepius sat with his usual poise in the armchair opposite Hyacinth, his silver eyes reflecting the firelight as he held a delicate porcelain cup of Earl Grey. His expression was unreadable, though there was a faint edge to his tone as he spoke.

"So you finally confronted that boy after years of him ignoring his responsibilities as a father," he said quietly, his gaze sharp but not unkind. "From the way you flinch, I take it my suspicions were correct—it didn't go well." He paused, studying her as though weighing whether to say more. "Lucius Malfoy is, and always has been, a purist through and through. If he and his family believe you are a squib, then they will want nothing from you… or that child of yours."

Hyacinth flinched at his words, her delicate hand faltering in its rhythmic motion through Ladon's silver hair. The boy stirred slightly but did not wake, his peaceful expression a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions brewing within his mother. Her black eyes, so much like Ladon's, filled with a mix of shame and regret.

"You don't have to remind me," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I know I was a fool to think… to believe he would ever care for me, let alone our child. But I thought… perhaps he might see something of himself in Ladon. That he might—"

"Care?" Asclepius interjected softly, yet his voice carried the weight of his skepticism. "Hyacinth, Lucius Malfoy cares for two things: bloodlines and power. If you were not of use to him, then your son—our gifted young Ladon—would mean even less. The man's icy stare betrays nothing but contempt for anything he deems beneath him."

Hyacinth lowered her head, tears silently slipping down her cheeks. "I thought… I thought he might change when he saw Ladon. That maybe he'd realize…" She trailed off, shaking her head as though to banish the hope she now saw as foolish.

Asclepius sighed, placing the cup down on the small table beside him. Rising, he stepped toward her, his tall frame casting a shadow over the hearth. He crouched to meet her eye level, his expression softening just slightly. "Hyacinth, the boy has no need of Lucius Malfoy. Ladon has you—and he has me. His magic will flourish far beyond anything the Malfoy name could offer."

Hyacinth met his gaze, her trembling hand still resting on her son's hair. "Do you really think he'll be strong enough to stand against them?" she asked, her voice trembling with both hope and fear.

Asclepius's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "He already is. The Dragon's Coffin has chosen him, and his power will only grow from here. The question is not whether he will be strong enough, Hyacinth. The question is whether he will forgive us for the choices we've made to protect him."

Hyacinth glanced down at Ladon, her fingers brushing a stray strand of silver hair from his peaceful face. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe," she murmured.

"As will I," Asclepius said, his tone resolute. "But remember, safety comes at a price. The world will soon know who Ladon is, and when that happens, we must ensure he is ready—for their sake as much as his."

The room fell into silence, save for the crackle of the fire. Hyacinth nodded slowly, determination hardening her features as she continued to cradle her son.