Chapter 114: The Method Of Hatching
Late 17th century, midsummer June, Mount Greylock.
The Horned Serpent lurked in the stream, and the wizarding family that had moved here half a year ago had already built a granite hut. For these two months, it had been observing from afar.
It had been hesitating deep down about whether to make contact with human wizards.
Until this morning, when it saw a vision of the future and learned that crisis was imminent and could not be delayed any longer, so it came over and waited here.
When that witch approached, it shook its tail and floated up from the stream:
“Isolt Sayre…
“Fate guided you to Mount Greylock. I know Slytherin blood flows in your veins. You stole his wand, and his bloodline descendants will not let you go.
“Go back quickly, be vigilant, crisis is coming.”
“…”
Two weeks later, the prophecy came true.
Gormlaith Gaunt tracked her niece’s whereabouts all the way to this magic school. Slytherin’s serpentwood wand was useless against Parseltongue, and the curse put Isolt and her husband directly into a deep sleep.
Just as Gormlaith was about to kill them in their sleep, the Horned Serpent sent a warning to their adopted son through the wand. With the help of animal friends and the Pukwudgie, Isolt’s family shot a poisoned arrow through Gormlaith’s heart.
From then on, Ilvermorny had four houses: Pukwudgie, Wampus, Thunderbird, and Horned Serpent.
That Slytherin wand was buried at the mountaintop, where it soon sprouted and grew into a lush snakewood tree.
The Horned Serpent lurked in the stream, watching this magic school grow stronger. The original granite hut was replaced by a grand castle, and its statue was erected at the castle gate, with beautiful gems embedded in its eyes.
Decades later, an elderly witch arrived at the streamside, leaning on her cane.
The Horned Serpent surfaced again, its silver slit pupils glowing faintly with great intelligence: “Are you going to die?”
The old witch’s kind smile froze, but she still nodded stiffly.
“Is there something you want to entrust to me? Protect this school, shelter the teachers and students in the castle?”
“…”
The old witch looked at the serpent in front of her, nodded, then shook her head.
Wizards in the New Continent were increasing, and Ilvermorny would grow ever stronger, standing for a millennium like Hogwarts. If this school truly faced destruction, it would only be due to internal reasons.
This serpent, however, had always lurked alone in the stream all these years.
“I know you like solitude and rarely appear before students, but I still want to say, if you meet another student you like, make friends with him, just like when we first met.”
“…”
The stream murmured on, and before they knew it, Christmas 1990 had arrived.
Mount Greylock seemed unchanged; the trees and mists were the same as before. Animals were constantly born and constantly died, just like three hundred years ago, just like seven hundred years ago.
The Horned Serpent lurked in the stream, slowly floating.
That student who had dropped out early had come for a final farewell, indirectly asking if it had seen any prophecy, where he should go and what he should do after dropping out.
But the serpent gave no clear answers; it was no longer the serpent that could foresee the future three hundred years ago.
Its body was aging, its magic power dissipating.
The stream washed over its scales as before, feeling the cold temperature. Its snake eyes blurred involuntarily, and it couldn’t help recalling the time that student practiced magic by the stream. Thinking of that, it then thought of that founder witch.
Back then, its foresight was still clear; it could see the crisis weeks away, could see the witch’s impending death. But even at its strongest, it couldn’t foresee its own death. Now that its foresight had weakened and it couldn’t even see clearly ahead, it clearly sensed that death was coming.
Three hundred years ago, when parting with the old witch, it had never imagined it would one day bid farewell to others before its own death. The Horned Serpent suddenly understood Isolt’s feelings from back then—no panic, no unease, but rather something wondrous.
“…”
But Melvin was still too young now; he probably couldn’t accept this kind of farewell defined by life and death.
Then it wouldn’t tell him for now.
Whether Slytherin’s relic or the magical creature’s magic power, let him explore it slowly on his own.
His life was still very long anyway.
So thinking, the Horned Serpent sank back into the icy stream, exhaling a string of fine bubbles from its mouth and nostrils. The temperature brought an unprecedented drowsiness to its body, hoping to sink into deep sleep like this, never to wake.
…
In the dead of night, Melvin suddenly opened his eyes.
“It was just a dream…”
Melvin sat up and noticed his magic power changing again, different from previous times. Subconsciously wanting to cast a few spells, he suppressed the impulse, reached for his wand, and felt the magic power flow lightly.
“Buzz…”
The wand seemed to hum joyfully.
A strand of pure silver light bloomed at the wand tip, silent, clear and ethereal like frost mist and silk. Though cool, it gave a serene and gentle feeling, identical to the moonlight outside.
Melvin lowered his head, staring dazedly at the silver light.
This was not an Illumination Charm; it was just the wand core and material responding to the magic power, naturally blooming with light.
This wand was not the one he had first used, but one he made after meeting the Horned Serpent, using its shed horn and snakewood. He remembered being impulsive then, flipping through only a few superficial materials from the library before deciding to make a wand himself.
Wandmakers’ craft handed down for a thousand years—if a child could replicate it after reading a few books, Ollivander’s and Gregorovitch’s shops would have closed long ago.
The wand core was an Exotic Horned Serpent horn, the material Slytherin-style snakewood. But the resulting wand kept backfiring, and his clumsy spellcasting practice was nearly as bad as Seamus and Ron’s.
In the end, the serpent helped fix it, taking it back to adjust and temper for a few months, turning it into this perfectly compatible wand.
Melvin retracted the silver light and examined the wand.
Previously, when he received unicorn and fire dragon magic power, the wand hadn’t reacted so naturally. This change occurred because this time the magic power wasn’t a gift from another wizard or creature, but his own magic awakening.
The soul is the source of magic power; emotions and thoughts touch the soul, influencing magic power in return.
When wizards experience major life upheavals and intense emotional fluctuations, their magic power changes. This is what Headmaster Fontana mentioned yesterday: turmoil makes it easier to produce top wizards. This process is called magic awakening.
“…”
Melvin had no more desire to sleep. He got up and sat by the bedroom window.
The room was in elegant European style, with solid wood glass window frames. The walls were covered in patterned wallpaper with teal green leaf vines spreading out like unfolding serpentwood branches.
Students of the same year had all graduated and left; the original dormitory now housed first-year students. Melvin was assigned to a room next to the Founder’s Hut, a guest room temporarily cleaned by the Pukwudgie servant—a teachers’ dormitory.
Returning to Ilvermorny after two years, his status changed from student to professor. Before, Melvin might have found it amusing, but now he felt nothing.
The moonlight was clear and bright; he could see the woods outside clearly without lights, and occasionally spot owls.
The young wizard quietly gazed out the window. After an unknown time, he took the snake egg from the bedside table and examined it closely.
The snake egg’s shell was grayish-white, larger than a standard goose egg, too big for one hand to hold. Its surface seemed to flow with faint fluorescence—not like a shell, but jade. Inside wasn’t ordinary egg fluid; it already showed signs of life, very lively.
The creature inside, not yet hatched, could vaguely sense his emotions. Though unable to respond, through magic power perception, he could observe changes in the faint fluorescent flow on the shell’s surface, like expressing comfort.
Melvin frowned slightly, lost in thought.
Now the problem: how to hatch this little thing?
…
Finally, the sun slowly rose above the ground. The deep blue night sky faded bit by bit, purple-red dawn appearing on the horizon. Sunlight pierced through clouds and mist at an angle, in strands and streaks, taking on shapes, shining on the castle’s outer walls, gradually warming.
Birds chirped eagerly; Ilvermorny bustled with life. The castle and mountain forest exuded vigorous vitality.
Today was perfect hatching weather.
“Restricted section…”
Melvin pushed open the library door, muttering softly, and walked into the bookshelf area for magical creatures, starting to search for materials.
Though not as vast as Hogwarts, the collection here was rich enough.
Wandering between bookshelves, he occasionally passed a Pukwudgie cleaning or organizing books. Both nodded silently and parted, sharing a tacit understanding.
To avoid awkwardly stepping on freshly mopped floors, Melvin selected his materials and went to the snakewood tree next to the Founder’s Hut, picking a spot with sun but no glare.
He tapped a branch, and vines drooped and intertwined, forming a swing hanging before him.
Melvin sat on the swing and began reading the materials.
《Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: A Unique North American Journey》
《Hatching and Rearing Serpent Species》
《How to Befriend Vipers》
These were all snake magical creature materials compiled by wizards in recent centuries, all by renowned authors. The first was by Scamander.
Mostly common snakes, none covering XXXX-level dangerous creatures. Even with Melvin’s shallow magical creatures knowledge, he could spot many gaps—like simple introductions to basilisks and rune pythons.
Even Newt Scamander, the greatest magical creatures expert of the century, could only summarize basilisks and Exotic Horned Serpents based on existing materials without seeing them himself. Hatching details were glossed over.
「The Horned Serpent has horns on its head, which is the origin of its name.」
Melvin: …
It was clear Mr. Scamander’s scholarly attitude was rigorous; his wording was very cautious on uncertain or hard-to-verify parts.
Melvin sighed. Hopes of finding Horned Serpent hatching materials in books were slim; he could only look at other snakes’ hatching methods for reference.
Hatching materials for Exotic Horned Serpents were scarce, but basilisk hatching records were plentiful, mostly hearsay.
According to anonymous historical records, vile Herpo was the first to breed a basilisk. He incubated a rooster egg under a toad, producing this giant viper, which he named basilisk.
“Since the Middle Ages, breeding basilisks has been illegal, but easily concealed, as people only need to remove the egg from under the toad before Magical Creatures Regulation and Control Department staff arrive…”
Melvin felt a absurd and helpless sensation again.
It seemed simple at first glance, but if basilisk breeding were that easy, none would have appeared worldwide for four hundred years.
It sounded like finding a rural farmer and waving a wand to produce a basilisk, but consider inducing the rooster to lay an egg, the toad to incubate, choosing proper astrological timing, whether to feed potions…
The detailed process was probably more complex than making a Horcrux.
“…”
On second thought, the rough process for making a Horcrux seemed pretty simple too.
Melvin flipped through all the materials he found, still no clue.
He tossed them onto the grass, kicked his foot, and the swing swayed. He gazed at the sparkling dew lit by sunlight, pondering snake egg hatching possibilities.
Self-hatching seemed hopeless; ask a magical creatures expert?
“Hagrid?”
Melvin shook his head, ruling out this unreliable one first.
“Professor Kettleburn?”
Asking back at school seemed hopeless too.
“Mr. Scamander?”
Contact via the headmaster was possible, but for an unseen creature, even experts would be stumped.
Actually, for broad knowledge, Nicolas Flamel might be best. In his six hundred years, he might have seen a Horned Serpent and could offer an alchemy-based hatching plan.
“Six hundred years… serpent breeding… considering expertise, the most professional seems to be…”
Melvin suddenly stopped the swing, looked up at the lush snakewood tree before him, and murmured softly, “Salazar Slytherin?”
Slytherin had been dead nearly a millennium; consulting him was unrealistic. But his heirs still existed, and weren’t rare—at least not as rare as Exotic Horned Serpents.
Melvin’s expression grew odd.
…
Far away in Malfoy Manor thousands of miles off, Lucius Malfoy stood in the attic, staring at the diary in an old wooden box, brow furrowed, worrying how to handle it.
The Ministry of Magic was cracking down on Dark Magic Items again.
Any sane wizard would sit down for drinks, wizarding families pooling Galleons and minor Dark Magic Items—one batch for staff, one for the Ministry to check off.
Wealth gained, merits earned.
Just for show, good for everyone.
But the pure-blood disgrace Weasley was in charge—unyielding, unreasonable, especially targeting Death Eaters once controlled by the Dark Lord. Days ago, he even raided old Crabbe and old Goyle’s homes.
Lucius stared silently at the diary, recalling the film’s final Easter egg, a cold glint in his eyes.
He didn’t dare destroy it; hand it to someone with the courage to handle it!
