The Serpent Prince

Morning came slowly to the dungeons. Alex stirred beneath the thick emerald blankets, his body still heavy with sleep. For a moment, he felt disoriented. The damp chill of the room, the faint lapping of the Black Lake against the windows, the soft green glow filtering through the enchanted glass—it was nothing like the warm, sunlit mornings at Arctis Palace.

As reality clicked into place, Alex sat up, brushing a hand through his silver hair. The other boys in the dormitory were beginning to stir as well. A sandy-haired boy in the bed closest to Alex yawned loudly before throwing back his blankets and shuffling toward the washroom. Another boy—thin, with dark curls and a perpetually suspicious expression—was already seated at the edge of his bed, staring at Alex as if trying to figure him out.

"Good morning," Alex said evenly, meeting the boy's gaze.

The boy blinked, then muttered, "Morning," before turning his attention to his trunk.

Alex swung his legs out of bed and began to get dressed, his movements efficient and practiced. His robes, freshly pressed, carried the faint scent of the palace laundry charms—a detail that made him feel both nostalgic and slightly out of place.

As he tied his Slytherin-green tie, the sandy-haired boy from earlier emerged from the washroom, now looking much more awake.

"You're Lorian, right?" he asked, his voice light and curious.

"Yes," Alex replied, fastening his tie.

"Thought so. The robes gave it away," the boy said with a grin, nodding toward the fine embroidery on Alex's cuffs. "I'm Malcolm, by the way. Malcolm Travers."

Alex inclined his head politely. "Nice to meet you."

Malcolm sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on his shoes. "So, what's it like being a prince? Do you eat, like, golden dragon eggs for breakfast?"

Alex arched an eyebrow. "Not quite. The palace chef prefers simpler ingredients."

Malcolm snorted with laughter. "I like you already. Most people in your position would be bragging up a storm."

Alex gave a faint smile but said nothing, instead focusing on folding the rest of his belongings neatly into his trunk.

The Slytherin common room was livelier than it had been the night before. Groups of students gathered around the tables, sipping from steaming mugs of tea or flipping through books. The low murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated occasionally by bursts of laughter.

Alex stepped into the room and immediately felt the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Some students glanced at him with open curiosity, others with polite disinterest. Imogen Greengrass was seated by the fire, chatting animatedly with a group of older students. She caught sight of Alex and gave him a small, knowing wave.

Malcolm, now at Alex's side, leaned in slightly. "Greengrass already has her eye on you. Careful with that one—she's sharp as a Nundu's fang."

"Noted," Alex said.

The prefect from the previous night, Astrid Selwyn, was standing near the entrance to the Great Hall passage. She gestured for the first-years to gather around.

"Listen up," she said briskly. "Your schedules have been placed on your tables in the Great Hall. First-years, you'll have a mix of core classes and a few introductions to specialized subjects. Don't be late—professors here don't appreciate tardiness, and you don't want to get on their bad sides."

The group nodded, and Astrid ushered them out into the corridor. The trek to the Great Hall was quieter than the previous night's feast. The chill of the dungeon slowly gave way to the warmer, bustling atmosphere of the castle above.

The Great Hall was alive with morning light. The enchanted ceiling reflected a pale, cloudy sky, and the long tables were laden with breakfast foods: platters of eggs, toast, sausages, and fruit. Golden pitchers poured pumpkin juice and tea into goblets that gleamed in the light.

Alex found a seat near the center of the Slytherin table, his movements deliberate as he filled his plate. The chatter around him was lively, students exchanging stories about their homes or speculating about their first classes.

Imogen appeared across from him, sliding into the seat with a confident ease that suggested she'd been raised in a similar environment to his own.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she said with a teasing lilt.

Alex glanced up at her. "Just Alex, if you don't mind."

"Alex, then," Imogen said, smirking. "Excited for your first day?"

"I'm curious," Alex replied, slicing into a piece of toast. "Hogwarts seems… different from what I'm used to."

"Different is an understatement," Malcolm chimed in from Alex's left. "You'll see what I mean when we get to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Last year, Professor Weasley conjured a boggart that turned into a giant turkey. It chased a Gryffindor around the room for ten minutes."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "That's an… unconventional teaching method."

"It's effective," Imogen said with a grin. "Though don't expect all the professors to be like that. Professor Slughorn—our Potions master—is more interested in getting invited to dinner parties than anything else."

"Or picking favorites," Malcolm added. "If he likes you, he'll bend over backwards to help you succeed. If he doesn't…" He trailed off with a shrug.

"I'll keep that in mind," Alex said, filing the information away.

Their first class of the day was Charms with Professor Flitwick, a tiny but energetic wizard who greeted the class with a broad smile.

"Welcome, first-years!" he said, his high-pitched voice carrying easily through the room. "I'm Professor Flitwick, and I'll be teaching you how to master the fine art of Charms. Now, I know some of you may already know a few spells, but here at Hogwarts, we'll take those sparks of magic and turn them into something truly extraordinary."

Alex took his seat at a desk near the front, sitting beside Malcolm, who immediately began fiddling with his wand.

Their first task was the Levitation Charm, Wingardium Leviosa. Professor Flitwick demonstrated it with an elegant flick of his wand, causing a feather to rise gracefully into the air.

"Remember," Flitwick said, his voice full of encouragement, "it's levi-OH-sa, not levio-SAR!"

Alex watched closely, studying the way Flitwick moved his wand and pronounced the incantation. He practiced the motion a few times before pointing his wand at the feather on his desk.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said firmly, flicking his wand with precision.

The feather quivered, then rose slowly into the air.

"Nicely done, Mr. Lorian!" Flitwick said, clapping his tiny hands together.

Alex nodded, satisfied but not overly impressed with himself. It was a simple spell, but he knew from his tutors back home that mastery began with the fundamentals.

Nearby, Malcolm groaned as his feather remained stubbornly in place.

"You're flicking too hard," Alex said quietly. "Relax your wrist."

Malcolm adjusted his grip and tried again. This time, the feather rose an inch off the desk before wobbling back down.

"Better," Alex said with a small nod.

"Thanks," Malcolm muttered, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

By the end of the class, Alex felt a small sense of satisfaction. Hogwarts was already proving to be different from anything he'd known, and the challenges ahead were something he found himself looking forward to.

As they left the classroom, Imogen fell into step beside him.

"Not bad for your first class," she said. "Though I have a feeling you're not going to have any trouble keeping up."

Alex gave her a sidelong glance. "And why's that?"

She smirked. "Because I've seen enough ambitious people to know one when I meet them. You'll do just fine here, Alex."

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Alex allowed himself a small, genuine smile.