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Serpent of the World	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 9486 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I make no money writing this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Happy black Friday all my american readers. It seems this custom have come to Sweden as well... don't know why. There seem to be sales all the time? Anyway, here is a new chapter, you get it for 100 % off! WOHO! (terms and conditions may be applied, review to find out more).
Thank you, Ozzy, for helping me beta this chapter! And many thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed and rated!
Enjoy!
Chapter 8
“So,” Hermione said, placing the snake on the floor and sitting down beside it. “You are a snake.”
The snake just kept staring at her, unblinkingly. Hermione sighed. Tom had made it look so easy. Was she even talking in Parseltongue? She took a deep breath and tried again.
“Hi,” she said, and this time, she could feel a difference. Her tongue felt like it was vibrating, instead of how it usually felt like when she spoke.
“Hello,” the snake responded.
“So, you are Mischich,” Hermione tried, and could once again feel the difference in her mouth as she spoke. She wondered how that could happen. How could blood make you learn another language?
“Yes, that is what I’m called,” the snake responded, and Hermione got the impression that the snake thought she was slow or something.
“I’m Hermione Granger,” Hermione said. “I’d like to ask you some questions about being a snake.”
“Why?” the snake asked.
“Well, I’m curious,” Hermione stated. “What have you eaten today?”
Her knowledge about snakes was limited. She would have felt much better if she had got the chance to read up on them first. However, Slytherin hadn’t said that this was necessary, and now she didn’t have access to any books on the subject. Thus, she would have to try and ask questions to learn.
Getting to know the snake was slow and boring, though. Hermione tried to think up of as many questions as possible, but the snake didn’t offer much that she could continue on. All in all, being a snake seemed quite dull, and by noon, Hermione gave up for the day. She needed to research this!
Hoping that Tom wouldn’t come back anytime soon, Hermione locked the door to her room and picked up the books from Slytherin’s chamber. After all, she didn’t know when Tom would leave her alone again, and she needed to try to read as much as possible. It was the only way she would ever be out from under Tom’s thumb. There had to be something about blood magic in those books, since it was blood magic that bound them together.
All she needed was time.
xxx
“Thank you, Emily,” Tom said with his most charming smile, as the waitress served him his ordered lunch. It would be so wonderful to have something else to drink but pumpkin juice for lunch. Hogwarts was surprisingly boring when it came to a choice of drinks, and he had always disliked the brewage.
“You are welcome, call if you need anything else,” the waitress said, blushing deeply. She was a young witch, probably a recent graduate from France, if he didn’t mistake her accent. He wondered for a moment how she had ended up in a place like this, but then decided that she wasn’t worth his curiosity. That she didn’t use magic to carry the trays with food told him that she was either very unskilled or very weak in her magic. Not useful to him at all.
Instead, he let her leave his table and his mind, and focused on the rest of the pub he had entered. Ireland had some of the best pubs in the world, but this was not one of them. No, he had chosen this one for its shabby reputation. Looking around the room, he decided that it was a well-earned reputation.
One of his many talents had always been to sense magic around him. Not only that, but he could sense the nature of the magic. The Dark Arts had a very distinct colour, or flavour, depending on how you chose to describe them. Tom instinctively knew when someone was practising the Dark Arts, or recently had been. It left a stain which could last for days, or weeks, depending on how serious the magic had been. Many of his Death Eaters had used the Dark Arts so often that they would constantly reek of them as they walked around. He had liked that about them.
In this pub, at least three visitors had recently been practicing, and another two looked as if they were only waiting for the right opportunity. However, that said nothing about their usefulness to him. Any thug could practice the Dark Arts if they put their mind to it. This time, Tom was only interested in the best.
He was halfway through his lunch when another man entered the room. It wasn’t just the smell of the Dark Arts that made Tom look at him, but the man, almost comically, fit the stereotypical description of a Dark Wizard. His head was shaved, and a scar ran over his left eyebrow and down onto his cheek. Someone must have tried to take his eye out and missed. He was a big man, with broad shoulders, covered with a long black robe. His boots were big and black, covered with mud.
Tom hid a smile as he drank from his cup of beer (real beer, not that butterbeer crap). However, just as he did, the man turned and looked at him. His brown eyes narrowed as he saw Tom’s smile and he stalked over to him.
“Aren’t you a bit too young to be drinking?” the man asked, his voice just as dark as the rest of him.
Tom let his eyes sweep over the man again and noted a tattoo on the back of his right hand. “Aren’t you a bit too young to be wearing a tattoo from the Order of Katla?” he replied coolly.
The man fisted his hand, making the dragon wing-shaped tattoo stand out even more. “We felt like it was time for a revival of the Order.”
“We?” Tom questioned.
He hid another smile when two men at the bar rose at once, their wands in hand. Really, these men were all intimidation and no discipline. But how powerful were they?
“We,” the man said triumphantly, withdrawing his own wand. “I don’t think I like your tone, junior.”
Tom finished his beer, not taking his eyes off the three men for a moment. He put the cup down again and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Is that so?”
He could read their intention before they had even finished their thoughts. Thus, he had a shield up several seconds before the table in front of him blasted into a thousand pieces. Good thing he hadn’t paid for the food yet.
The other people in the pub seemed to be used to fights such as this one, because no one tried to step in, they all fled. Even Emily moved through a backdoor, leaving the four of them alone.
Rising as well, he flicked his wand at the man to the far left, nailing him to the ceiling with a spell. The other two started to cast curses at him, but he deflected them. Not easily, he was pleased to note. The man with the scar applied the most strength, but Tom doubted he was putting all he had behind the curses. They weren’t expecting a ‘boy’ like him to put up much resistance. In fact, Tom could see the surprise in their eyes when they noticed that their partner had already been neutralised.
The man to the right made the mistake of looking at his comrade, his mouth agape in shock, and Tom took the opportunity to stun him. He fell down before he had even realised what had happened, leaving Tom alone with the scarred man.
“You know how to duel, boy,” the man noted, a hint of respect in his eyes. Good.
“And you three clearly don’t,” Tom remarked.
As he had expected, it made the man angry enough to lash out, and attack again. Tom easily sidestepped it and returned a curse of his own, which felt like the bones in the man’s legs were breaking. He fell down, screaming.
Tom tried to summon his wand, but despite the pain, the man slashed with it again, almost hitting Tom in the chest. He blocked it just in time.
“Or maybe you do have some practice,” Tom allowed, generously. “But you lack discipline. Is it because your group has no purpose? The Order of Katla were warriors and dragon tamers, but you just seem like you are looking for a fight. Have you ever seen a real dragon?”
“Who the fuck are you to be talking to me like that?” the man roared. “I’m Hans fucking Lejon.”
Tom cast three spells in rapid progression. Hans blocked the first curse, was hit in the chest with the second, and had his wand taken from him by the third.
“And I’m the Master of the Dark Arts, so you will do best to watch your tone with me,” Tom replied coldly. “I may be young, but I can make you suffer in ways you have never even fantasised about before.”
To underline his threat, he cast another spell at the man. Hans bent over in pain and threw up blood. Tom ended the curse.
He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Hans. “I have never heard of you before, so I doubt you are a man of any importance. With my help, you could be. All I need is a promise of your obedience.”
Hans’ eyes were furious. “Fuck you, I don’t take orders from children!”
Tom smiled. Oh, how he had hoped for that response.
xxx
When Hermione heard the outer door slam shut, she immediately hid the book from Slytherin and picked up one of her own books. She had just opened it and sat down in the armchair at the corner of her room, when she heard Riddle reach her door. It only took him a second to unlock the door.
He regarded the door as it opened. “You wanted a moment’s notice. What for?”
“Because I did,” Hermione answered coldly.
He stepped into the room and Hermione glanced up at him, about to tell him to leave her alone, but paused. His green robe had splatters of something dark on it, and she was quite certain it was blood.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“Just reconnecting with the world,” Riddle answered, looking pleased with himself. “I don’t see the snake here. How did it go?”
Hermione grimaced. “We talked, but she didn’t seem to understand my questions.”
“It is a snake, you can’t think of it as a human,” Riddle said, rolling his eyes. “You only need to figure out how to make it do your bidding.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Hermione asked, annoyed. “Bullying creatures around doesn’t come naturally to all of us.”
“That’s not what your friends said,” Riddle commented, as he sat down on her bed. “I have lost track of how many times they have called you ‘bossy’.”
“Bossy and bully are not the same thing.”
Riddle leaned forward and Hermione noticed that his wand was hanging casually from his right hand. She tensed up, readying herself for the worst.
“Perhaps you are right. I want you to tell me what my dear ancestor has taught you, and I do think I’ll take a more bullying approach than that of a bossy individual.”
Hermione’s wand was lying next to her in the armchair, and she grasped it. “I didn’t think you were interested in the Serpent of Midgard.”
“No, you misunderstood, I don’t care about dealing with the problem, but I’m very curious about our family secrets. I advise you to tell me voluntarily, but I don’t mind providing you with encouragement.”
Hermione weighed her options. Should she resist, and no doubt be tortured until she told him, or tell him everything she knew? It wasn’t as if it was that much. The book she had read today had told her a bit more, but nothing useful. There would be no harm in telling him everything she knew right now. In fact, it was probably best to do it now, so he wouldn’t ask later on, when she had gained more information.
With a sigh, she closed her book and put it aside. “There is no need to torture me. It’s not as if there is that much to tell, Slytherin was more focused on teaching me the spells to put the Serpent to sleep. He only told me a bit of his family history. I don’t think any of it is to be considered a real secret.”
“Humour me.”
“He spent a lot of time teaching me the different spells that it takes to command the Serpent of Midgard, as well as a bit of the magical theory behind its creation. Loki used the blood from various magical creatures, and impregnated a female giant. She died giving birth to it,” Hermione said, grimacing.
“What different sorts of blood did he use?” Riddle asked. She was not in the least surprised that he didn’t seem to care one bit about the poor giant.
“Besides his own, he used the blood of three different types of dragons, giants, a basilisk and the bootlace worm, the longest known animal, which partly explains how the Serpent of Midgard became so long. But despite that, it took magic that not even Slytherin knew about to make it grow to that size. It shouldn’t be possible with the magical knowledge we have, but somehow, Loki did it.”
Riddle looked thoughtful. “What did Slytherin tell you about Loki?”
“Not much. Loki’s past is quite mysterious; he never spoke about it to his children. Human children, I mean. Slytherin was related to Loki’s youngest son, who was raised by Heimdall, one of the few ‘gods’ that survived the final battle between Loki and Odin. Heimdall told him what he knew, but they were mostly things that had happened after Loki appeared in Asgard. Oh, and Asgard was on an island that sank during the battle. Or well, Slytherin thinks the Serpent destroyed it.”
“But what did Salazar know about Loki?” Riddle pressed.
Hermione hesitated. She had found out more about Loki by reading Slytherin’s books, and even though most of it was probably exaggerated, Riddle had a history of putting his fate in stupid tales. Like the prophecy (which wouldn’t have come true if he hadn’t made it come true, stupid arse).
“Loki was probably just partly wizard and partly something else, non-human. The myths say he was half-giant, but no one knew for sure. He was a very powerful magician and he seemed to have approached the Æsir wizards to learn more from them. This was not strange at all. Æsir wasn’t an ethnic group; Asgard was more like a refuge for wizards that had been forced to leave their former settlements for some reason.
“Odin was their leader, he was also a powerful wizard and said to be a prophet. Together, they seemed to have found a way to stop ageing completely. They proclaimed themselves as immortal, but it seems like they could die by force in the end. There are numerous tales of Æsir that died in accidents or murder.” Hermione paused and studied Riddle to see his reaction to the information. Everyone knew he wanted to become immortal.
Riddle, however, didn’t seem surprised by it, and he didn’t ask her to elaborate.
“Loki was said to have been very beautiful, but he was also a great illusionist and could change his gender, race and species. He met an Àsynja, named Sigyn, and they had two boys, Vali and Nari. He seemed to have been quite obsessed with changing the nature of people. He used his own son, Vali, to create the first werewolf. After that, Sigyn left with Nari and was given protection by Heimdall.
“It’s not clear where the ability to speak to snakes came from, but it would appear that Loki did something to either his own blood, or Nari’s that changed it. But from what Slytherin told me, this has become less and less apparent in each generation. Slytherin’s father told Slytherin that his grandfather had been able to transform into a snake, but not like an Animagus. Slytherin also had an uncle who was born with a snake-like appearance, but he didn’t survive for long. Maybe Loki experimented on Nari to figure out the best way to create the Serpent of Midgard, but no one knows.”
Riddle processed this in silence for a few seconds. “And these spells to control the Serpent, how do they work?”
“I’ll have to show you,” Hermione said and rose, wand in hand. “But as I found out, this is only part of it. The spell is in Parseltongue, but apparently, you have to use the force of a Parselmouth as well, not just the magic.”
She performed the spell for Riddle and then sat down again.
“Interesting,” Riddle said. “Speaking the spell in Parseltongue is changing the way you need to move your body to perform your spell. I wonder…”
He trailed off and rose, starting to pace back and forth. Hermione didn’t disturb him. She too had noticed that you couldn’t move the way she had been taught to move, during the different phases of casting a spell, when she did these spells. It seemed like the foundation of the spells was different, because of the language which they were spoken in.
“Have you tried casting the spells translated?” Riddle asked.
Hermione frowned. “What would be the point of that? You don’t translate spells in Latin or Greek to another language.”
“No, they don’t work, or they work differently than they were intended to. But have you tried it?”
She shook her head. She had once asked Professor Flitwick why spells had origins in different languages, and Flitwick had explained that magic itself was like a language. If you didn’t say it the right way or with the right pronunciation, it usually didn’t work, and sometimes, it led to disasters. It was as if the magic didn’t understand what you wanted it to do, if you didn’t tell it in the right way.
It was like if you went into a Portuguese restaurant and tried to order in French. Hopefully, what you said wouldn’t make any sense to the Portuguese waiter, but if you were unlucky, you could end up insulting someone.
However, the relationship between magic and the caster seemed even more complicated than that. She had been surprised to learn that ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ wasn’t the only word you could use to make something levitate. In China, they had the same spell, but another word, and different wand movements.
Spells had been discovered and taught in different cultures for thousands of years. It was common that they were developed in the language the creator spoke. There were a few spells which were completely in English, created by a couple of eccentric wizards and witches. However, the majority of wizards saw it as a waste of time to make new spells, so few new spells had been created in the past couple of centuries.
Therefore, Hermione was certain that nothing good would come from translating the spells in Parseltongue. But it was an idea that made her curious.
Hermione was pulled from her thoughts by Riddle coming to a halt in front of her.
“I want you to experiment with those spells on snakes and see what happens. After you have gained some understanding of what being a Parselmouth means,” he ordered her.
Hermione sighed, but nodded. She didn’t mind testing out magic, but she hated that he had ordered her to do so.
“Also, in a few days, I’ll bring home some guests. You’ll be there to serve us some refreshments. But you are to stay out of our way, and don’t speak up. Think of yourself as my personal house-elf,” Riddle added with a smile.
Hermione looked at him in astonishment. “If you for a second—”
She broke off as the pain from yesterday started to boil in her veins, but before she even had time to scream, he broke the spell.
“It will be a training session in obedience, dear sister,” Riddle said softly, as he walked up to her. “And you’d be wise to fear my displeasure in this matter. My guests are quite ruthless, and you do not want me to ask them to partake in your punishment if you fail me.”
Hermione felt sick to her stomach when he smiled.
He stroked her cheek. “But, if you please me, I will reward you by not asking what you could possibly be up to which makes you lock the door. In fact, I won’t even disturb you when your door is locked. At least, not for a little while.”
He straightened again and started to walk out of the room. “Think about it,” he said. “Dinner will be ready in half-an-hour.”
He closed the door behind him, leaving Hermione alone with a heart beating rapidly in fear.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Serpent of the World