HP: Dragon's Coffin

The soft knock echoed in the early morning silence, dragging Ladon from the restless sleep he had finally managed to get after his late-night potion work. His eyes fluttered open, a faint glow of irritation glinting in their depths as the knocking persisted.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, pushing himself out of bed. Hesper, who had curled up on the edge of the mattress, stretched and hopped gracefully to the floor, her tiny wings fluttering as she padded after him.

He swung the door open, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, only to be greeted by the imposing figure of Asclepius. The older man's silver eyes were sharp and unyielding, his expression as stoic as ever.

"Get dressed and come downstairs to the manor archives," Asclepius said without preamble, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You will be leaving for Hogwarts in less than two weeks, and I would like for you to somewhat master Occlumency before you leave."

Before Ladon could muster a response—or protest—the man turned on his heel and walked away, his long coat sweeping the floor behind him. The sound of his footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving the eleven-year-old standing in the doorway, dragging a hand down his face in annoyance.

"Fantastic," Ladon muttered, his voice flat. "Just what I needed."

Hesper let out a soft meow, winding around his legs as if in sympathy. Ladon sighed, glancing down at the little shadow dragon cat. "No point complaining, is there?" He ran a hand through his messy platinum hair and turned back into the room, grabbing his wand from the nightstand.

Within minutes, he had dressed in a simple but sharp black ensemble, his usual stoic mask firmly in place. Hesper perched on his shoulder as he made his way down to the archives, her tail curling around his neck for balance. He gave up trying to get her off. It was far to early in the morning to argue with the bloody cat.

---

The archives were dimly lit, the faint hum of magic lingering in the air from the night before. Asclepius stood near the center, his hands clasped behind his back as he waited. A single chair was positioned in front of him, its purpose unmistakable.

"Sit," Asclepius commanded as Ladon entered the room.

Ladon obeyed without a word, lowering himself into the chair and crossing his arms. Hesper leapt from his shoulder and settled on the edge of the table nearby, her green eyes watching the proceedings with quiet curiosity.

"You understand what Occlumency is, I presume?" Asclepius asked, his tone calm but firm.

"The magical defense of the mind," Ladon replied, his voice monotone. "Used to block intrusion or manipulation."

"Correct," Asclepius said, nodding slightly. "Hogwarts is a political battlefield, a haven for alliances and enemies alike. If you cannot shield your thoughts, you will be vulnerable. Certain powerful individuals could bypass your thoughts and find your most precious memories and replace them with new ones. Ones that could manipulate your character to match that which they desire. The headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore is one such example who has the capability to do this."

Ladon's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of understanding. "And you're going to teach me how to shield my mind. So this won't happen?"

"Precisely," Asclepius said. He stepped closer, his silver eyes locking onto Ladon's dragon-like gaze. "But be warned, Ladon. This will not be pleasant. Occlumency requires discipline, focus, and complete control over your emotions. It is not for the faint of heart."

"I'm not faint of heart," Ladon replied, his tone as cold as ever. "Do what you need to do, grandfather."

Asclepius studied him for a moment before drawing his wand. "Very well. Clear your mind, Ladon. Breathe deeply. This is not just about blocking—it is about controlling."

Ladon closed his eyes, taking a slow, deliberate breath. The faint hum of magic in the air grew stronger as Asclepius raised his wand.

"Legilimens," Asclepius intoned.

The spell hit Ladon's mind like a tidal wave, images and memories flashing before his eyes—his mother's gentle smile, the cold intensity of his training, the mocking laughter of imagined enemies. He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching the arms of the chair as he fought to push back against the intrusion.

"Focus," Asclepius said sharply, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Your mind is your own. Do not let me take it."

Ladon growled low in his throat, his dragon-like eyes snapping open as he forced the memories back, shoving against the invading presence. The spell broke with a sharp crack, leaving both of them breathing heavily in the aftermath.

"Good," Asclepius said after a moment, his voice calm but approving. "You have potential, Ladon. But we have much work to do."

Ladon nodded, his expression as stoic as ever despite the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. "I'm ready. Continue. "

Hesper meowed softly from the table, her green eyes glinting with what could only be described as approval. The morning sun filtered into the archives, casting long shadows as the training began in earnest.

Asclepius stood silently, his sharp silver eyes fixed on Ladon, who sat cross-legged on the floor of the archives. The boy's posture was perfectly composed, his breathing steady, his dragon-like eyes closed as he focused on blocking Asclepius's mental probes. The faint hum of magic filled the air, and the older wizard could feel the resistance—strong, deliberate, and growing stronger with each passing moment.

He had to admit, the boy was extraordinary. Ladon absorbed magical knowledge and techniques like a sponge, mastering concepts and spells in days that would take others months or even years to comprehend. It was unnerving, in a way. The boy's sheer potential bordered on terrifying. Yet here he was, at eleven years old, holding his own against a master Occlumens.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Asclepius frowned, his thoughts turning over the stark reality of the situation. Two weeks. That was all the time they had before Ladon boarded the Hogwarts Express and stepped into a world teeming with threats—both overt and hidden. Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, and countless others would be there, each with their own agendas and abilities. The truth of Ladon's identity as the heir of Ophiuchus could not be exposed, not yet. And certainly not through the weakness of an unguarded mind.

'No', Asclepius thought, his expression hardening. 'This won't do. We need to up the training.'

He studied Ladon for a moment longer, noting the boy's composure, his silent determination. Pain was a good teacher—perhaps the best teacher. It forced the mind to adapt, to focus, to protect itself at all costs. And in this case, there was a particular tool that could push Ladon further, faster: the lightning spell.

Asclepius lowered his wand, ending his latest attempt at breaking through Ladon's defenses. The boy exhaled slowly, his eyes opening to reveal their faint glow. He looked up at Asclepius, his face stoic, though the faint sheen of sweat on his brow betrayed the effort it had taken.

"You're improving," Asclepius said, his voice calm but measured. "But it is not enough. You must be unbreakable, Ladon. Your mind must be a fortress no one can breach."

Ladon nodded, his voice flat. "What do you want me to do?"

Asclepius perched his lips into a thin line, though his eyes remained cold. He didn't want to use this method, but time wasn't on their side. "Stand up."

Ladon rose to his feet without hesitation, his dragon-like eyes locked on Asclepius. Hesper, who had been lounging on the edge of the table, tilted her head curiously, her wings twitching as if sensing the shift in the room's energy.

"From now on," Asclepius said, raising his wand, "you will learn to block attempts to penetrate your mind while enduring physical pain. Pain clouds judgment, disrupts focus, weakens resolve. If you can defend your mind under such conditions, you will be far beyond even the most skilled Legilimens."

Ladon didn't flinch, his expression unchanging. "What kind of pain?"

Asclepius's silver eyes glinted with hesitation, then sharpened with resolve. This was necessary. He murmured the incantation, "Fulmen."

A thin arc of lightning shot from his wand, striking Ladon squarely in the chest. The boy staggered slightly but didn't cry out. His teeth clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides, but he remained standing.

"Focus, Ladon," Asclepius commanded, his voice sharp. "Your mind is your own. Do not let me in."

Ladon straightened, his dragon-like eyes burning with determination. "Again."

Asclepius's wand moved almost imperceptibly, another arc of lightning snapping through the air. This time, Ladon barely moved, his concentration sharpening as he fought to block the intrusion into his mind. Memories flickered before his eyes—his mother's voice, her laughter, her death—but he shoved them back, fortifying his mental defenses with a strength that belied his age.

"Good," Asclepius said, his tone calm but approving. "Again."

The room filled with the crackle of lightning and the hum of magic, the air thick with tension as the training intensified. Hesper watched from her perch, her green eyes wide as she tracked Ladon's every movement. Despite her small size, she seemed to understand the gravity of the moment, her tail flicking with nervous energy.

Asclepius's attacks grew more relentless, the lightning strikes coming faster and harder, but Ladon endured. His dragon-like eyes never wavered, his mind becoming a fortress of iron will. The pain was excruciating, but it only served to fuel his determination.

When the session finally ended, Ladon stood tall, his chest heaving but his expression as cold and unyielding as ever. His dragon-like eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, a testament to the power and resolve that burned within him.

"You're learning," Asclepius said, lowering his wand. "But we are far from finished. Tomorrow, we will push harder."

Ladon nodded, his voice steady despite the exhaustion in his limbs. "I'll be ready."

Asclepius watched him for a moment, his silver eyes filled with a rare flicker of something akin to pride. "Good. You'll need to be." He turned and walked away, his long coat trailing behind him, leaving Ladon alone with Hesper.

The small shadow dragon cat leapt from the table, padding over to Ladon and rubbing against his leg. He glanced down at her, his expression softening ever so slightly.

"I'm fine," he murmured, crouching to scratch behind her ears. "Just tired."

Hesper chirped in response, her wings fluttering as she hopped onto his shoulder. Ladon straightened, his gaze hardening once more as he looked toward the archive's door. It completely went over his head that he gave some affection to the kitten.

Two weeks. That was all the time he had. And he would make every second count.

----

Later that night, the manor was bathed in a serene silence, the crackle of a fireplace in the distance the only sound to disturb the stillness of the night. Ladon was fast asleep at his desk, his face pressed against the worn pages of Hogwarts: A History by Bathilda Bagshot. His breathing was soft and steady, his hand still clutching a quill as though he'd fallen asleep mid-sentence. The faint glow of candlelight illuminated the faint outlines of his dragon-like eyes beneath closed lids.

Hesper, perched on the bed, stretched languidly, her tiny wings fluttering briefly before folding neatly against her sides. She let out a soft yawn, her sharp green eyes flicking toward Ladon one last time. He looked peaceful, unguarded in sleep, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor. For a moment, she lingered, as though debating whether to stay.

Then, without a sound, she slipped off the bed and padded across the room, the shadows seeming to ripple in her wake. The door creaked open just enough to let her slide through, and she disappeared into the dimly lit corridors of the manor.

Hesper moved silently through the sprawling estate, her soft paws making no sound against the polished floors. Her bright eyes glimmered faintly in the dark as she passed through hallways and staircases, her movements deliberate and graceful. She finally came to a stop in the study, where the warm glow of firelight illuminated Asclepius seated in a high-backed chair.

He held a delicate porcelain teacup in one hand, a thick leather-bound book in the other. The firelight danced across his silver eyes as they scanned the pages, his expression calm but unreadable. He didn't look up as Hesper approached, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"How long are you going to stay in that form?" Asclepius asked, his tone conversational, though there was an undercurrent of sharpness to his words.

Hesper didn't respond. She hopped onto a nearby side table, her tail curling delicately around her small form as she sat. Her green eyes met his, intelligent and piercing, their gaze far too knowing for a mere kitten.

Asclepius finally raised his head, his silver eyes locking onto hers. "I don't know what you plan for that boy," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "but a fair warning from an old friend…"

He leaned forward slightly, the shadows from the fire elongating his form. His silver eyes darkened, their glow shifting to an ominous black. His smooth, pale skin rippled and changed, dark scales creeping across his face and neck, glinting like polished obsidian in the firelight. He spoke again, his voice deeper, more guttural, every word carrying an edge of menace.

"Harm him in any way, and I will make you remember why I was chosen as a guardian—and not him."

The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of his words pressing against the very air. Hesper tilted her head, utterly unfazed by the transformation. Instead, she let out a soft, almost amused purr before licking her paw delicately, as though Asclepius's warning were nothing more than idle chatter.

She stood, her small form seeming to ripple as she stretched. Her green eyes glinted, her gaze holding his for a beat longer than necessary, as though silently acknowledging his threat. Then, without a word, she turned and leapt gracefully to the floor.

As she padded toward the door, the shadows seemed to shift around her, and for a brief moment, her outline blurred. A soft, feminine chuckle echoed through the room, carried by a sudden breeze that swept through the study.

Asclepius watched her disappear into the night, his blackened eyes narrowing as the sound faded. He sat back in his chair, the scales on his face receding as his silver eyes returned to their usual glint. Taking a slow sip of his tea, he stared into the fire, his expression hard.

"Fate has always been a fickle companion," he muttered to himself, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "But this time, it seems she's sent a shadow to watch over a flame. An old vengeful shadow at that."

He closed his book with a deliberate motion, his mind already calculating what the future might hold. Whatever her plans, Asclepius knew one thing for certain—Ladon's destiny would be anything but ordinary.