Dorian's heart raced as the common room fell silent, the air heavy with anticipation. Lukas Grimmel stood across the room, his broad shoulders tense, his eyes blazing with arrogance. The younger students huddled near the walls, their faces a mix of fear and excitement as they watched the confrontation unfold.
For a moment, Dorian felt the raw, pulsing power of Salazar Slytherin's magic coiling beneath his skin, begging for release. It had been weeks since he'd unlocked the hidden chamber, since he had felt the full weight of ancient magic bind itself to him. In that time, he had worked tirelessly to control it, to understand its vast potential. But the power was restless, and so was he. Tonight, that power would finally be unleashed.
Grimmel took a step forward, sneering at Dorian. "You think you can just waltz into Durmstrang and act like you're something special? You're nobody. A pretender."
Dorian remained calm, his expression unreadable. "You're out of your depth, Grimmel. Leave, and I might forget you ever crossed me."
The sneer on Grimmel's face deepened, and he barked a laugh. "Forget? Oh no, Selwyn, this is just getting started."
His wand snapped into his hand, the gesture quick, but Dorian had already anticipated it. The power within him surged, and with a flick of his wrist, Dorian raised his own wand, the magic around him responding to his will as if it had been waiting for this very moment.
The room seemed to darken as the temperature dropped. The fire in the hearth flickered, its warm glow vanishing as an icy chill swept through the common room. A palpable tension filled the air, thick with magic. Dorian didn't need to cast a formal spell—the raw power in his veins flowed through him, bending the room to his will.
Grimmel hesitated, his bravado faltering as he felt the shift in the air. The arrogance in his eyes wavered, replaced with uncertainty. He glanced around, noticing the dimmed light, the coldness that clung to his skin.
"What… what are you—?" Grimmel began, his voice betraying the first sign of fear.
Dorian's voice was cold, calm, controlled. "I warned you."
And then, with a mere thought, Dorian unleashed the magic.
A wave of dark energy exploded from his wand, moving faster than Grimmel could react. The air crackled with electricity, the force of the spell pushing Grimmel back across the room. He slammed into the wall, gasping in pain, his wand clattering to the floor.
The room seemed to reverberate with the aftershock of the spell, the younger students gasping in awe and terror. Dorian didn't move, his wand still raised, the dark magic pulsing through him like a storm barely contained.
Grimmel, dazed and struggling to regain his breath, looked up at Dorian with wide, fearful eyes. The overconfident smirk was gone, replaced by the realization that he had severely underestimated his opponent. But Dorian didn't care for Grimmel's fear. He was done playing by Durmstrang's rules, done pretending to be just another student. He had power now—real power—and he was going to use it.
"Get up," Dorian commanded, his voice like ice.
Grimmel's hands shook as he scrambled to his feet, his body still trembling from the impact of the spell. He hesitated, his gaze flickering to his wand lying on the floor, then back to Dorian. But he didn't move to retrieve it. The fear in his eyes had taken hold, and Dorian knew he had broken the boy's spirit.
"I—" Grimmel started, his voice weak, but Dorian cut him off.
"You wanted a fight, didn't you?" Dorian asked, his tone mocking. "Now you know what happens when you challenge someone out of your league."
The younger students were still watching in stunned silence, their eyes wide with shock. Dorian could feel their gaze on him, their awe at what he had just done. For the first time since he had arrived at Durmstrang, they were seeing him for what he truly was—a force to be reckoned with.
Grimmel swallowed hard, his face pale. "I… I was wrong," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dorian smiled coldly. "Yes. You were."
He lowered his wand, the room slowly returning to normal as the dark magic receded. The warmth returned, the fire flickered back to life, and the tension in the air began to lift. But the damage had been done. The students had seen the raw power that Dorian commanded, and he knew that word of this night would spread throughout the school by morning.
Grimmel, still shaken, turned and fled the room without another word, his footsteps echoing in the silent halls as he disappeared from sight.
Dorian stood there for a moment, his heart still racing from the surge of power. He had won, but it wasn't the victory that satisfied him—it was the knowledge that he could have done far worse. The magic he wielded was barely under control, and for a moment, he had wanted to unleash its full fury, to show Grimmel and everyone else what true power looked like.
But he had held back.
And that restraint, he realized, was his real strength.
The common room was still quiet, the younger students looking at him with a mixture of awe and fear. Dorian glanced at them, his expression impassive. "Go to bed," he said simply.
Without hesitation, the students scattered, rushing to their dormitories, eager to escape the room and what they had just witnessed.
When they were gone, Dorian sank into one of the high-backed chairs near the fire, his mind racing. The power he had just used—it was intoxicating. But it had also been dangerous, more dangerous than he had anticipated. The magic was wild, restless, and difficult to control. He had won the confrontation, but the feeling that he had barely scratched the surface of what the power was capable of lingered in his thoughts.
And that realization both thrilled and unsettled him.
A door creaked open behind him, and Dorian didn't have to turn to know who it was.
Ingrid Ravnsborg stepped into the room, her presence calm and composed, as always. She moved silently to stand beside him, her sharp blue eyes taking in the scene. She had undoubtedly heard what had happened—word traveled fast at Durmstrang, especially when it involved magic of this magnitude.
"You didn't hold back," Ingrid remarked, her voice quiet.
Dorian looked up at her, his expression cool. "I didn't need to."
Ingrid raised an eyebrow, her gaze thoughtful. "It was impressive. You're stronger than I thought."
Dorian shrugged, though inwardly, her words pleased him. He had wanted to show Ingrid that he was more than just potential—that he was capable of wielding real power. But there was something in her tone that gave him pause.
"You're worried," Dorian said, studying her.
Ingrid met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Not worried," she said carefully. "Just… curious. That magic—it's powerful, yes, but it's also volatile. You need to be careful, Dorian. Power like that can't be controlled easily."
Dorian leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know what I'm doing."
Ingrid's lips curved into a slight smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Do you? Because from where I'm standing, it looked like the magic was controlling you."
Dorian's jaw clenched, the words hitting closer to home than he liked. But he didn't let it show. "I'm in control," he said firmly. "I always have been."
Ingrid studied him for a long moment, her gaze piercing, before finally nodding. "Just remember what I said, Selwyn. Power is a tool, but if you let it consume you, it becomes a weapon. And weapons have a way of turning on their masters."
With that, she turned and left the room, her words lingering in the air like a warning.
Dorian sat in silence for a long time after she was gone, the fire crackling softly beside him. He had proven his strength, had shown the school what he was capable of. But Ingrid's words had struck a nerve, and as much as he hated to admit it, there was a part of him that wondered if she was right.
The power he had unleashed tonight—it had been exhilarating, but it had also been dangerous. And as he sat there, staring into the flickering flames, he couldn't help but wonder how much longer he could keep it under control.
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