The Basilisk Wizard of Hogwarts

What kind of professor looks like you

"What can I do for you, sir?"

Though frightened, Daniel stood bravely in front of his wife and children as the head of the household. Yet his trembling voice betrayed his lack of resolve.

"Mr. Morgan, as Mr. Gaunt's adoptive father, you must be aware of his... unique talents. Mr. Gaunt has been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Snape explained impatiently, though he forced himself to remain civil toward the Muggle.

"He is my son!" Daniel retorted, insisting on Samuel's surname. He had allowed Samuel to keep the Gaunt name but refused to let anyone diminish his role as a father.

"A magic school? Hogwarts? I’ve never heard of teachers showing up with such hostility," Claire interjected, her tone sharp. *And who in their right mind dresses like that? That greasy hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in weeks.* Deep down, she believed Snape—her son’s inexplicable abilities and keen sense of malice made it hard to deny. Still, she glared at the shattered door, channeling her frustration.

*"Are you blind? Did I break this door?"* Snape seethed internally, his frosty demeanor intensifying.

"Mom, Dad—I want to go," Samuel cut in urgently. He feared his parents were treading dangerous ground. Snape, though a tragic figure Samuel admired, had once sympathized with Voldemort’s ideology. Death Eaters held no mercy for Muggles, and Samuel refused to gamble his parents’ lives testing Snape’s morals.

Snape tossed two notes onto the table—one with an address, the other a list of school supplies—and turned to leave. "Tell your snake to stop eating the owls," he added coldly, vanishing without another word. The massive python coiled near the stairs had glared at him like prey, its hostility unmistakable.

The Morgans exhaled in relief. Snape’s oppressive aura had been unbearable. They dreaded sending their son to this mysterious school but knew the magical world suited him better. Once Samuel made up his mind, there was no changing it.

Samuel, too, relaxed—until rage surged. *So* that’s *why no owls delivered my letter!* He hissed a low, serpentine command, the sound echoing through the forest. Snakes bowed in submission.

Now certain of his lineage, Samuel realized: bearing the Gaunt name and Parseltongue, he must be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin’s nearly extinct bloodline. The Gaunts’ last heir was Voldemort, though rumors spoke of Parselmouths in North America.

Parseltongue wasn’t just a language—it was a magical legacy, granting absolute control over snakes. Behind the mansion, hundreds of serpents lurked in the woods, from venomous vipers to colossal constrictors. Samuel’s favorites were the pythons: Cole (albino Burmese), Rebecca (green anaconda), Elijah (reticulated), and Finn (rock python), each stretching over 30 feet.

Claire loathed the snakes. Only Cole’s golden-white scales spared him exile.

Two years prior, Samuel had rescued a girl in London, earning the "Street Hero" title and 20 blood orchids. The flowers extended the snakes’ lifespans and triggered rapid growth. Rebecca, once the largest, now spanned 50 feet, her body sleek and powerful—reminiscent of the *Anaconda* films’ monstrous serpents.

"Dad, I’m heading to the woods. I’ll be back soon," Samuel said, ignoring his parents’ resigned sighs. Their son’s maturity often left them feeling superfluous.

A chorus of hisses answered his call. Snakes emerged from shadows, encircling him like subjects before a king.

"Rebecca, Elijah, Finn—stay here. Soon, you’ll join me in a new world," Samuel murmured, stroking their scales. The trio bowed, though Rebecca nuzzled his hand like a pet.

"Little Noodle, come out," he called. A foot-long viper slithered forward—an Atheris hispida, its jagged scales emerald-green. Dubbed "Little Noodle," it was the only venomous snake fed blood orchids. Its venom now killed instantly.

As Samuel prepared for the wizarding world, he knew better than to rely on his fragmented "Orochimaru" abilities. The faulty system had granted him mere scraps: Snake Hands, Multiple Snake Hands, Snake Replacement, and Summoning: Triple Rashomon—no basic ninjutsu.

For Diagon Alley, the giant pythons were too conspicuous. Little Noodle, stealthy and lethal, would suffice. Wizards, after all, were no hardier than Muggles against toxins.

Five years with the Morgans had taught Samuel the depth of their love. He’d protect them—no matter the cost.