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I. ⟦ TRUNK ⟧ SPECIAL RACE. [Parselmouth]

STATISTICS.

ABILITIES.

Full Name - Kazimir Viktorovich Morozov

• Kazimir | Slavic origin; kazi ("to destroy" or "to command") and mir ("peace" or "world"). He can be either the "Destroyer of peace" or "Commander of peace."
• Viktorovich | "conqueror," "winner," or "one who is triumphant". Also means the “Son of Viktor,” since Viktor Dmitrievich Morozov is his father.
• Morozov | a prominent Slavic surname meaning frost/cold. Often given to a person born during the winter, someone with a notably cold and calm demeanor, or someone known for their resilience in harsh climates.

Blood Status - Pure-blood
Birthday - 13th January 2015

• January is typically the coldest month in Moscow, Russia. Kaz was born around three in the morning during a cold snap, where temperatures dropped to below -20°C. His peers would joke about how fitting his last name, “Morozov”, meaning “frost,” was. Not only was he born during one of the coldest times of the year, but he also has an unusually cold demeanor.

Zodiac - Capricorn.

• Goal-Oriented & Ambitious
• Selective but Loyal
• Practical & Grounded
• Workaholic Tendencies
• Stubborn & Judgmental
• Cautious & Unforgiving

Nationality - Russian, but is half-Romanian.
Residence - Moscow, Russia
Year & School - First Year, Durmstrang
Species - Parselmouth
Personality - ISTJ-T
Patronus - None yet
Wand - None yet
Medical conditions - Mild Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)
Sport - Duelling

Kaz often appears cold and detached. He does not like people, or anyone in general, believing social interactions are a distraction and a waste of time. He prefers solitude and can often be found reading or scheming alone. He is incredibly materialistic and analyzes things through a rational, logical lens. He will befriend those he finds useful to his causes, those who show potential, and those whom he knows he could use. His parents had drilled into his head that life is a strategic game and that every choice he makes can determine whether he will be successful in the end. Therefore, he must choose his allies and play his cards right.

Due to his obsession with control and success, Kaz has also learned always to think two steps ahead. Survival of the fittest, as Darwin had stated. He needs to be calculating and mature, even though he is only eleven. There is no room for stupidity and mistakes in the corporate world. For Kaz, Durmstrang is not only a school to further enhance his knowledge and intellect, but also a place where he can build valuable connections and a reputation. He must maintain his professionalism and seriousness, or else his parents may deem him unfit to inherit the family fortune. The pressure and scrutiny he is under to remain perfect and composed will either make or break the Morozov heir.

Kaz also believes in this pesky little thing called Pureblood supremacy. Following his family's beliefs, he upholds the value that Purebloods have the right of way and that every other status is beneath him. He may be more diplomatic for those who are wizard-born, but Muggles or Half-bloods? He would see them as unworthy of his attention. His strict belief is one that many others would disagree with, and unfortunately for the stubborn boy, he would learn the hard way.

Ironically, for someone who should be well acquainted with diplomacy, Kaz has trouble trying to hold his tongue. He judges everyone he meets and quickly sizes people up, making snarky remarks and sharp insults. Being the pampered and spoiled son he is, Kaz often speaks in an arrogant and blunt tone, his attitude easily antagonizing many. His conversations are mostly sarcastic and bitter, sometimes even overly patronizing. But as much as Kaz would like to believe he is deliberate with his words, the truth is that he acts too much like a smartass and cannot keep his trap shut.

In the Morozov household, any display of emotion is also seen as a weakness. Kaz’s parents firmly believe that if anyone can read your thoughts, it can be used against you. The young boy was trained to have a carefully crafted mask of indifference in any situation, his expression betraying nothing. But alas, he is only a child. No matter how much he tries to maintain his cool demeanor, his eyes will always tell the truth.

Contrary to popular belief, Kaz actually has quite a short fuse. He is easily displeased by even the simplest mistake, his OCD and inner perfectionist doing little to help. The only reason he does not lash out immediately is the fear of disappointing his parents. To lose his cool would shatter the reputation he tries so hard to build for himself and sully the family name. When annoyed, he would either drum his finger impatiently, tap his feet, or clench his jaw. But when he is really at his limit, his eye would twitch in irritation, and his tone would become very clipped and strained.

However, there is only so much one can pretend. For his whole life, Kaz has been trying to be the son his parents always wanted, so much so that he does not know who he truly is. Here is the truth, dear readers. Kaz is scared. He always has been. He is scared of being a failure; he is scared of being a disappointment; he is scared of losing when he already owns so little. He never had someone to love or someone who loved him back. All he can do is yearn, but not open up, for fear of being hurt. So, who is Kaz? Well, nobody knows. And unless the boy finds himself, he may never find out.

Kaz would be what people describe as fairly attractive. However, his stoic and stony nature would quickly shut down anyone's attraction to him. Kaz hardly smiles; most of the time, it is because he does not care enough to do so, but he also just does not have anything in his life that really brings him joy. He is sleep-deprived as well, so tiredness may be a reason. The boy views sleep as an option and goes to bed around the hours of one to three in the morning. But for some strange reason, his eye bags are not as prominent as they should be.

At 11 years old, he stands at a height of 4’8". He has a modern curtain haircut with a slightly off-center middle part. His curtain bangs reach down to his cheekbones and frame his face. His hair is medium-length with multiple layers throughout to create movement and volume. Though it is usually slightly tousled, it pairs nicely with the rest of his formal and sleek ensemble.

Another noticeable trait Kaz has is his prominent cheekbones and sharp jawline. His chiseled face and unsmiling nature make him appear unsociable and distant. Which he is. His eyes often seem dark due to the lighting and his hard gaze, but they are actually blue. Sharp and piercing, his eyes are the only thing that does not lie. They speak of all the thoughts that go through his head when his mouth says something different.

Kaz’s stature is also lean and slim. Though he has muscle from private fencing lessons, as most Durmstrang students do, his strength lies more in the mind than in his body. However, he could still hold his own pretty well in a fight. He can win through trickery and strategy, but pure brute force? Not so much.

As for clothing, Kaz's wardrobe is about as diverse as his dazzling personality. He does have many clothes; it is just that they are all… suits. The only casual clothing Kaz wears is business casual. Their colors range from black to black. And an occasional pop of color here and there from a green or red tie. Kaz is very particular about the suits he wears as well, believing there is one for every occasion. And it needs to be expensive and tailored, because wearing something even remotely cheap can sully the Morozov family name.

Born during a cold snap on the thirteenth of January, 2015, the Morozov heir had already lived up to his family name: frost. The small babe did not cry as much as his parents had expected, but instead gazed up at them with his bright, blue eyes. They shone with so much life and wonder, but also vulnerability.

Kaz used to be a lively child. His voice was loud when he cried, the piercing sound projecting across the Morozov residence in Moscow. His wide eyes would constantly shift, almost as if attempting to absorb everything about the world he was born into. The toddler's hands would reach out and grab at anything, his small fingers never seeming to be at rest. Most of all, he was happy. The baby would coo or shriek with joy, a toothless smile gracing his face.

One that his parents despised.

As Kaz grew, his parents tolerated him less. He was often handed over to caretakers while his parents worked. The couple originally worked on opposite sides of the manor: Viktor Morozov on the right wing while Irina Valeanu-Morozova on the left. However, the two had to reach a compromise to work in the same wing while the other was given to their son. Yes, the whole left wing was Kaz and Kaz only. The young boy rarely saw his parents and would often walk the halls alone, his bare feet slapping against the smooth marble floor. The silence was deafening, with any movement or sound creating echoes that seemed to last forever. The house-elves could only speak to their young master in hushed whispers, never looking him in the eye. No matter how much the boy would cling to them or beg them to play, they had to refuse politely. They never applauded him for achievements, but they also never scolded him for any mistakes. By the age of four, Kaz finally stopped trying to interact with the elves. He kept to himself as he wandered through the empty estate, only speaking to the servants when he needed something. After all, orders are the only thing they respond to. There is no use in him talking much anymore, as he is alone anyway.

-------------------

After his first instance of magic when he was five, Viktor and Irina finally decided to acknowledge their son. Now that they are sure their son possesses magical capabilities, they can educate Kaz in the skills he needed for the Wizarding World.

Private tutors from all around Europe were now hired to teach Kaz. Reading, writing, and mathematics were only the beginning of the long list of classes he now had to take. His days were filled with lesson upon lesson, the boy barely having any time to himself. He had to maintain strict discipline and was not allowed to indulge in childish comforts, such as sweets or displays of affection. Manners and etiquette were also a major core in his classes, the young boy needing to maintain his professionalism and formality no matter what.

In the beginning, Kaz rebelled. He disliked the order and rules, missing the freedom he had as a toddler. He would sneak snacks from the kitchen, ditch lessons with his private tutors, make a dreadful mess in rooms, and even more. He caused hell for the staff and his parents, being dubbed “Гремлин,” or “Gremlin,” by the servants. His parents originally ignored the little rebel, opting to let their house-elves take care of him instead. But things became serious as tutors and non-elf staff members began resigning. The house-elves had no choice but to stay, but their enthusiasm and usual effort also decreased. Enraged, the Morozovs finally decided to do something about their unruly son.

Taking inspiration from the old Durmstrang traditions, they sent him to the wild. Kaz needed to be disciplined, and the only way he would learn was the hard way. In the middle of the night, while the boy was asleep, his father had him transported to a secluded forest nearby. Viktor hid with an invisibility cloak, observing his son’s progress. Though he seemed like he could care less, the man had secretly hoped that the boy would last at least five days.

Kaz lasted for three. Three days, a near-death experience, and a lot of crying. But his little time in the forest was not all for nothing, as the six-year-old was also discovered to be a Parselmouth. Though his father was mildly displeased at how pathetic Kaz was on his own, he still saw potential in his son. So he pushed him harder. More classes, more training, and more reality checks. But this time, Kaz obeyed.

-------------------

By the age of eight, Kaz already knew more than he should. He had a talent with numbers and accounting, often helping his father with business ledgers. His family was a major patron of the arts, so he was expected to be educated on the topic as well. His mother would bring him to gallery showings and exhibits, elevating the boy’s taste in classical culture. He had also expanded his knowledge of languages, the child now knowing at least five dialects: Russian, Romanian, French, English, and Latin. Six if he counted Parseltongue. He also developed a peculiar interest in difficult puzzles and mysteries.

To his parents’ pleasure, Kaz had become more reserved and composed, no longer as rebellious as he used to be. His manners were noticeably better, courtesy of the numerous etiquette lessons his parents put him in. Many of his tutors could not help but compliment him as well, claiming the young boy had truly matured and developed his bright mind.

But Kaz hardly knew himself anymore. It seemed like forever ago when he wandered the halls with childlike wonder, causing trouble and stealing snacks. Now he spends time going from tutor to tutor, lesson to lesson. He also began attending business meetings with his parents, joining in on formal events and important showings. It was during these meeting where Kaz met another boy like him, Theodore. The two hit it off quite well, and though it was unfamiliar to Kaz, he believed he had finally found a friend.

During his free time, Kaz would read in the library, his analytical mind never resting. As much as he tried to convince himself that learning and expanding his knowledge would be beneficial in the long run, Kaz could not help but feel empty. Hollow. Every day is the same routine and formalities. He wears only three-piece suits and polished leather shoes, even though he is in his own home. He has to address his parents formally and speak as if he is negotiating in a meeting, treating them like business partners.

Alas, there is nothing that the boy could do except follow the rules. His parents had high expectations for him as their heir, and he would be damned if he let them down. So he continued with his strict schedule, pushing aside his emotions in favor of an unreadable mask. For a while, all was well. For a while, he was the perfect son.

-------------------

Until he got Spattergroit. The cause of it is still unclear, but Kaz’s parents suspected it may have been from one of the business meetings they took Kaz to. Perhaps the magical fungus was in their hotel room, the meeting room, or even just the surrounding area. Though the parents seem to have avoided the dreadful fate, Kaz was not so lucky due to his young and vulnerable age. The disease left the nine-year-old bedridden for several months, suffering from fatigue and purple pustules forming on the face. He often got high fevers, his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. He was confined to his own room in the hospital, as Spattergroit is highly contagious. Kaz often spent his nights alone, scared of dying and crying from pain. He was struggling, yet he was helpless and at the mercy of the doctor’s care. His condition worsened to the point where it infected his uvula, rendering him to be unable to speak. Thankfully, the doctors were able to stop it from spreading to the brain and healed him slowly. After three months, Kaz was finally cured of Spattergroit. Thanks to the advanced medical care his family paid for, he was cured with little to no scarring, just a few white dots where the particularly awful pustules used to be. They were barely noticeable against his fair skin, though. He was also able to recover his ability to speak, though it came out a little raspy in the beginning. However, the suffering he endured from the disease still left him traumatized.

For weeks after, Kaz refused to leave his room or speak to anyone. He barely ate and could hardly sleep. He started becoming obsessed with cleanliness, washing his hands over thirty times a day and scrubbing himself until his skin turned pink. He cleaned his room three times a day, forbidding anyone to enter his sanctuary. As his condition worsened, his parents grew concerned. Viktor and Irina could pretend to be as unfeeling as they wanted, but deep down, they were desperate to fix their only son. Their future heir.

Finally, a therapist was called to help Kaz with his condition. After much convincing and struggle, his parents finally succeeded in making their son receive the treatment. Kaz went through multiple therapy sessions, mainly cognitive behavioral therapy and exposure therapy. He is now able to recognize patterns and possible triggers that can launch him into panic attacks, allowing him to leave the situation if he feels a compulsion coming up. However, despite the doctor's attempts to help, Kaz still despises exposure therapy and is often left feeling worse. It did help to a certain degree, but his mental state afterwards is so terrible that his parents decided to focus him more on CBT instead. Though it was a slow process, Kaz eventually began feeling better. He may not be fully back to normal, as he still experiences minor claustrophobia and mild touch aversion, but it was progress. Kaz now wears black leather gloves daily to keep physical contact to a minimum and is usually clothed from head to toe.

Kaz has also become a lot more… snappier in his personality. He often makes sharp remarks and jabs, scorning life and everyone in it. He views the world in a much more pessimistic light, sometimes wishing he never survived. He is a lot more withdrawn than he used to be, keeping to himself because he does not like anyone else. The therapist said that Kaz's harsh personality is more of a coping mechanism, as his pessimistic view offers fewer chances of being let down. One can only hope he heals one day to the point where he no longer needs it.

Though most Durmstrang students go to school at the age of ten for their foundation year, the Morozovs decided to make the decision of homeschooling Kaz again. The boy was in too delicate a state to return to the public, so for another year, Kaz stayed in their residence. Though Kaz was not held back by any means, as he is still intelligent enough to enter Durmstrang for his first year, he still could not help but feel like he failed somehow. His OCD and anxiety have him feeling a burden to his family, and on many occasions, they agreed as well. His treatment cost a good chunk of the family funds, and Kaz could not help but feel indebted to his parents. He would often be found pushing himself harder and trying to prove to his family that he could be the perfect heir. Maybe one day he will heal. And maybe one day, he will know he is enough.

With his parents basically nonexistent and the servants only there to do their jobs, Kaz had to find solace elsewhere. The little five-year-old would explore the vast mansion, bored at how uneventful everything was. So he did what the servants had explicitly told him not to: he ventured to the right wing. He was unafraid, because why should he? The servants cannot do anything to him, and the child has not yet experienced what consequences were.

The first few hours were great for Kaz. He stared in awe at the various statement pieces and artworks displayed along the walls, some of them even being family portraits. The young boy looked up to the supposed painting of his family; the only recognizable face was his own. Kaz would then find a room that would change his perspective forever — the library. The vast room filled with knowledge was everything the bored child needed. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with more books than he could count. Not that the boy could count anyway. Nor read.

Despite his limited knowledge, Kaz was not deterred one bit. He began reaching for any book he could grab, eager to flip through the pages. He did not know what they contained, only that they must be important. Words and numbers he could not recognize flooded his vision as he attempted to read, piles of books scattered around him. Eventually, the boy started getting frustrated, annoyed at his own lack of understanding. That was when something caught his eye.

A dark tome on one of the higher shelves seemed to call to him. The lined silver edges glimmered in the library’s dim glow, tempting him even more. Abandoning the mess of books he made, Kaz made his way to the tall shelf. Evidently, he was not tall enough to reach it, so he made the next logical move: he climbed.

Surprisingly, the young boy managed to hold his own quite well. He was a little shaky and unsteady, of course, but he managed to climb a good height of four shelves before reaching the desired book. His small fingers made a pathetic attempt at grabbing the tome, the thick spine much too large for him to even hold. However, Kaz was nothing if not stubborn. Slowly nudging the heavy book out, he managed to make it stick out a bit more. He grabbed the exposed book and prepared to tug at it, only to freeze as he heard a cold voice boom behind him.

“What do you think you are doing, Kazimir?”

The boy turned to see a man standing by the entrance. But not just any man. It was the man Kaz had seen earlier in the family portrait.

This man was his father. And he was terrifying.

Losing his balance, Kaz’s bare feet slipped on the small shelf edge. He panicked as he felt nothing underneath him, his desperate hands grabbing onto the tome he was trying to get earlier. But even the heaviest book cannot hold the weight of a five-year-old.

Kaz fell. The tome slid out of its slot rather abruptly, jostling the rest of the shelf. Several books tumbled down with the boy, whose little climb now seemed much higher than he had thought. He did not know what would happen to him. He did not know what death was yet. He only knew he was scared, and that very bad things were going to happen if he hit the ground.

Perhaps it was desperation, or maybe it was fate. Instead of feeling an impact, he felt… nothing. Opening his eyes slowly and uncovering his head, Kaz noticed everything had paused. It was almost as if time stopped moving, yet he could still hear the distant ticking of the library clock. His body levitated above the ground by a few inches, the other books still above him.

Before Kaz could process what had happened, he hit the ground with a light thud. The books fell around him as well, creating a mess. However, the young boy himself appeared to be uninjured and very, very confused.

“Reverte.”

Kaz jumps as a voice booms through the library. At once, all the scattered books flew back to their original positions on the shelves. Even the previous books he had neglected got up on their own, each zipping past him with incredible speed, only stopping once they were nestled nicely in their slots.

The boy blinked at his... normal surroundings. There was not a single trace of the chaos that happened moments ago, the only evidence of his little excursion being himself.

That is when he felt a pair of strong hands settle on his shoulders.

“Hm. You have much to learn, my son. Your first instance of magic is only the beginning.”

Kaz tilted his head back to see the stern face of the man again. A pair of cold, blue eyes, so much like his own, stared back at him. Yet, despite their similarities, the man held so much more weight in them than the young boy did.

“Are you my father?”

Those were the first words Kaz had said in a while. And those were the first words Viktor Morozov ever heard from his son.

Kaz had woken up in the middle of nowhere. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, the boy blinked slowly at his surroundings. Trees, trees, and dirt. A heavy blanket of fog still weighed on the forest, little light filtering through. Kaz groaned and fell back onto the bed, planning to go back to sleep. His dreams were weird sometimes.

Only there was no bed. There were no walls, nor were there floors. The familiar ticking of his clock was strangely absent, and so was the daily wake-up call from his servants.

This was not a dream.

Bolting upright, Kaz looked around his surroundings this time with more focus. He was in nothing but his pajamas, his feet bare and body cold. His internal clock told him it was seven in the morning, but he had no way to check. Panic began to set in as the boy scrambled to his feet, searching his surroundings for anything familiar.

Then he heard a crinkle under his foot, different from the crunch of leaves. It was a paper note. The boy felt his hand shake as he read the letter.

It is about time you learned discipline, Kazimir. Your actions shall bear consequences.

Consequences? He needs to learn about consequences? The six-year-old had no other emotion than rage. How dare his parents leave him to the mercy of nature's cruelty? He is the sole heir to the Morozov dynasty, their only son. To risk his life for a lesson is so absurd that it borders on stupidity. So he screamed.

“You need me! I am your only son! I am the only one who can take over the dynasty!” Kaz yells into the forest, receiving nothing but the rustle of leaves in return. Tears were now filling up in his eyes. The petulant child could do nothing but scream his throat raw, repeating the same words over and over again like a chant.

You need me. You need me. You need me.

But they didn't, did they? They could always make another child. He was nothing. He was a disappointment. Who was he to think he could control his destiny at six years old? But no. Doubt is for the weak. He should not, he must not, dwell on the possibilities.

“Fine then! You'll see! You need me more than I need you!” Kaz cries out, his voice cracking from the strain. He could try, but his pathetic bravado was fooling no one. He was scared. He was terrified. He was a six-year-old little boy trapped in an unknown forest.

Weak. Pathetic. Usele —

“Shut up shut up shut up!” His breathing was becoming fast and shallow, the pounding in his head growing louder. Kaz fell back to the ground, his hands digging into the dirt below. He may have screamed. He may have cried. He may have begged.

He was a mess.

--------------------

The sun had almost set when the boy finally looked up. He must have blacked out. Tears stained his face and dirt was stuck under his nails. His pajamas were no better, as leaves and soil clung to the fabric. He was in the same place he was this morning, just more dishevelled and tired.

He was numb as he slowly got up, his muscles sore from the awkward position he was in. He wandered deeper into the woods, his throat hurting every time he swallowed. However, after only a few more steps, he collapsed on the ground yet again. He stared up at the sky, the moon slowly coming up. The boy finally realized just how tired he was. And scared. He was truly, utterly alone.

"Are you going to wallow in self-pity or are you going to get up?”

Kaz jumped at the sudden voice. It sounded raspy, quiet, and whisper-like. The words spoken to him felt foreign, yet he understood them. His eyes darted from tree to tree, branch to branch, but nothing revealed itself.

“Who are you?” The boy croaked, his voice lacking the volume he had before. He was terrified of the odd voice that spoke to him… but also intrigued. A strange force seemed to draw him in, an undeniable curiosity urging him to investigate.

“Who are you and where are you hiding?” He repeated, his voice rising slightly. However, no one responded. Everything was silent except for the distant cawing of a crow.

Motivated and slightly unsettled from getting scolded by a mysterious voice, Kaz finally mustered up the energy to climb up a tree. He may not know how to survive in the wild, but he still has the common sense to check his surroundings. Besides, by being on higher ground, he could avoid the bigger threats. Or at least he thought so. He read it somewhere in a book, but he cannot remember it quite well.

Splinters buried themselves into his palm and bare feet as he climbed. The rough bark was by no means comfortable, but the pain was able to ground him to reality. Similar to how some people would pinch themselves to make sure they are not hallucinating, the pricking sensation of his ascent only solidified his perception of his situation. He either had to pull his weight or die alone.

Finally, he reached the fork of the tree. The small boy was able to wedge himself between two branches, grimacing as the bark bit into his back. Certain that he would not plummet straight to the ground when he fell asleep, Kaz closed his eyes and attempted to rest. Sleep did not come easy, nor was it peaceful, but he supposed it was necessary. So there he stayed, stiff and uncomfortable, the bark pricking his skin and the cold seeping into his bones.

-------------------

Kaz woke up the next day feeling worse than he did before. Every single muscle in his body felt sore from the awkward position he slept in. He tried to rearrange his limbs slightly to alleviate the discomfort, but he barely moved an inch before hearing the voice again.

“Do not move.”

Kaz freezes as he hears the familiar hiss again, the voice sounding much closer and clearer than it did yesterday. He strains his ears in an attempt to locate the sound, hearing a little rustle coming from his right.

Turning his head slowly, the young boy was greeted by the sight of a large, black viper wrapped around the branch Vipera berus: Known as the common adder. Very common in the forests of West Tver and is easily confused with Nikolsky’s Adder, the one in Southwestern Russia. While it typically features a gray or brown body with a distinct dark zigzag pattern down its back, melanistic (completely black) individuals are incredibly common in these northern forests. The viper hisses at the boy, revealing its sharp fangs that glimmer in the morning sun.

Kaz feels his heartbeat pick up as he fights back a scream. The creature was so close to him that he could see its individual scales.

“Do not scream.”

The boy was about to cry. The viper slithered closer to Kaz, its smooth scales making contact with his skin. He stayed frozen as the snake wrapped around his shoulder, making itself at home.

“What do you want from me?” Kaz managed to squeak out, his voice barely a whisper. The snake tightened its hold around his shoulder, making Kaz shiver as its cool scales grazed his neck.

“I will not harm you, young one. But the one below might.”

Looking down, Kaz's breath caught in his throat. A large, brown bear circled the base of the tree Brown bears; very common in the forests of West Tver. The bear growled as it sniffed the air, its teeth looking not too nice at the moment.

“Stay calm. These bears have an acute sense of smell and hearing. However, if it notices you, it will climb. Listen to my instructions.”

Kaz swallows dryly, his eyes never leaving the predator below. Suddenly, the snake’s presence was a comfort that he was glad for. Listening to the odd, whispery voice, Kaz slowly relaxed his shoulders and breathing, careful not to rustle the tree leaves. The brown bear seemed to have grown bored and eventually left, seeking food elsewhere. Kaz let out a deep sigh of relief, nearly crying with relief.

“Thank you.” The boy said gratefully, his voice cracking a bit. The viper merely made itself comfortable on the boy’s thin shoulders, its forked tongue poking his face playfully.

“It is not often for me to see humans who can speak our language, much less one as young as you. Tell me, child, what are you doing all alone in this forest?”

“Well, my dad decided I was too undisciplined, so he sent me here as a punishment. At least that is what the note said… wait-” Kaz’s brows furrowed in confusion as he looked closely at the viper. “What do you mean I speak your language?”

“Do you not wonder how we are conversing naturally with no misunderstanding? I will tell you right now, boy, I am speaking as I always do. You, on the other hand, are speaking something other than the usual human nonsense.”

He possessed the ability to speak with… snakes? The young boy was too stimulated to think over the possibilities and reasons, so he answered as any other six-year-old would have.

“Cool. What is your name? I am Kaz.” After all, the first thing you do when you can talk to snakes is to make friends with them. The snake, however, looked at Kaz with what he would describe as confusion. If snakes could be confused.

“I do not possess what your species calls… a name. I suppose you may refer to me however you would like.”Unfortunately, Kaz had awful imagination and creativity. After thinking for a long moment, the boy still could not come up with anything. And so, the creature is now properly referred to as “Viper.”

For the remainder of the day, Viper helped little Kaz along the wilderness, directing him to find food and water. The boy felt happy with his new snake friend, the creature finding permanent residence around his shoulders. It was nice, in a way. Despite his aching muscles and the cold, forest atmosphere, Kaz does not feel as lonely as he did back home. Maybe this is not so bad after all.

-------------------

Three days. Kaz has been in the forest with no one except for Viper for three days now. It was longer than the boy had ever been away from his parents, and he would be lying if he was not getting scared. The day was moving along as usual, or as usual as Kaz had been here. Viper still rested comfortably on his shoulders while Kaz attempted to search for food.

“Say, Viper, do you think my parents would ever come back to get me?” He asked, his voice quiet and unsure. Viper stayed silent for a moment, almost as if it did not hear the boy, before answering.

“I think they never left.” The snake then refused to elaborate further, leaving Kaz to ponder the meaning of its words. The two continued their trek in silence, listening to the gentle sounds of Mother Nature.

SNAP.

Chills ran down his spine as Kaz turned to find… a bear. He did not know whether it was the same one they encountered yesterday, but this one sure looked hungry. The bear growled as it stomped towards them, its jaw opened wide. The beast now seemed much larger than it used to be, and also much closer.

Kaz suddenly felt rooted to the ground, unable to move. Dread, fear, and other emotions he could not yet name swarmed his mind. Time seemed to slow as the bear approached him, a familiar sound hissing by his ear.

“Dodge.”

At the last second, Kaz jumped to his right, narrowly avoiding the bear. Small rocks cut into his arm, his mouth getting the wonderful taste of dirt. Scrambling to his knees, Kaz stared in horror at the bear right before him. He could feel the hot air from the beast as it breathed, thinking how easily it could crush him in its mouth. Kaz shut his eyes, tears running down his face as he raised his arms pathetically, almost as if it would stop the bear.

“Run, Kaz.”

The boy peeked through his hands in time to see Viper launch itself at the bear. Its sharp fangs dug into the beast’s face, making the bear rear back in a mighty roar. But even then, the snake had no match against the bear.

Crunch.

The awful sound ringed through the forest as the bear managed to catch Viper in its mouth. Incoherent screaming in that low, whispery voice that Kaz had found comfort in echoed in his ear. A scream full of grief and pain ripped through the boy’s throat, the death of his only companion hurting him so. But he had to run. It was the last instruction Viper gave him.

So, Kaz scrambled to his feet and ran with all his might. He stumbled through the woods, the harsh terrain cutting into his bare feet. He could not see clearly from the tears obstructing his vision, only following the shapes in the distance. He could hear the predator behind him, but he was helpless. All he could do was run. Climbing was not an option, and his feet were getting tired. His lungs were burning as he gasped for air, sounding more like a dying fish than an actual human.

And then it came. Kaz screamed as he tripped over a log, his ankle twisting in an ugly way. His knees buckled under him as he hit the ground, the world spinning in his vision.

“Please, please, I do not want to die. Take me back. Please. I promise I will be a good kid. I promise I will listen. I promise, I promise, I -”

“Sectumsempra!”

A voice, oh so familiar, boomed loudly. With one last echoing roar, the bear went silent except for the loud thud that followed. Kaz stayed in his curled fetal position, scared to even move an inch. Sobs racked his thin frame as he clutched his head, the forest feeling more alien to him than ever.

“Get up.”

A pair of strong arms lifted the boy, causing him to cry out in pain as he landed on his twisted ankle. Kaz went down again, but this time landed on his back. From his position, he could sort of make out the blurry figure before him.

“I have to say I am a little disappointed, Kazimir. I expected you to last for at least five days, yet you only survived for three. However, there is potential in you.”

“Dad?” Kaz croaks. He wiped the tears from his eyes, finally seeing the man before him clearly. His father’s stern, unapproving face graced him, and Kaz could not have been more thankful. He immediately launched himself at his father, sobbing as he clung to him.

“I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I will be better, I promise. I will listen, I will read, I will stop being a pain. Take me back, please, take me back.” Viktor went stiff as his son cried, the small boy desperately hugging him.

“Hm. It seems you have learned your lesson then. You have inherited your grandfather's Parselmouth abilities as well. Come, Kazimir, you have much to learn if you wish to use them effectively.”

And for the first, and only time, in Kaz’s memory, his father picked him up. He could have sworn there was a small smile at the edge of his lips. His father began walking, carrying Kaz to wherever home was. The last thing Kaz saw was the bear bleeding out on the forest floor, almost as if it was cut by many blades. Sadness, or more accurately, grief, filled his heart as he thought of Viper. The companion he never gave a proper name to.

"Dad, did grandpa have snake? Since he could talk to them?"

Viktor was quiet for a moment as he thought. "I was never that close with my father, but he had a viper. Orcus, I believe."

Orcus. That could be a cool name, even if he did not know the meaning behind it. His father's low, rumbling voice continued on, something about going to a hotel nearby to use their fireplace. Floo powder, or something like that. "We are quite far from Moscow, after all. Not many forests that have proper wildlife roaming free, so we had to come out here..."

However, Kaz did not hear the rest of the sentence as he went out like a light, exhaustion finally taking a toll on him as his father brought him home.

Kaz has Mild Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

Why does he have OCD?
When he was nine, Kaz got Spattergroit, a highly contagious airborne magical disease. The cause of it is still unclear, but Kaz’s parents suspected it may have been from one of the business meetings they took Kaz to. Perhaps the magical fungus was in their hotel room, the meeting room, or even just the surrounding area. Though the parents seem to have avoided the dreadful fate, Kaz was not so lucky due to his young and vulnerable age.

The disease left the nine-year-old bedridden for several months, suffering from fatigue and purple pustules forming on the face. He often got high fevers, his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. He was confined to his own room in the hospital, as Spattergroit is highly contagious. Kaz often spent his nights alone, scared of dying and crying from pain. He was struggling, yet he was helpless and at the mercy of the doctor’s care. His condition worsened to the point where it infected his uvula, rendering him to be unable to speak. Thankfully, the doctors were able to stop it from spreading to the brain and healed him slowly.

After three months, Kaz was finally cured of Spattergroit. Thanks to the advanced medical care his family paid for, he was cured with little to no scarring, just a few white dots where the particularly awful pustules used to be. They were barely noticeable against his fair skin, though. He was also able to recover his ability to speak, though it came out a little raspy in the beginning. However, the suffering he endured from the disease still left him traumatized. He remembers the helplessness that came along with it, making it a dark memory for him.

It does not help that his parents became largely obsessed with keeping him clean and inside the house afterwards. All he remembers are the extensive cleaning routines he must go through, ones which he still repeats today. His condition only worsened as his parents continued to pester him about it, making him relive the memory over and over again. He eventually reached the stage where he did not want to leave his room and refused to touch anyone.

A doctor was finally called to help Kaz with his condition. He went through multiple therapy sessions, mainly cognitive behavioral therapy and exposure therapy. He is now able to recognize patterns and possible triggers that can launch him into panic attacks, allowing him to leave the situation if he feels a compulsion coming up. However, despite the doctor's attempts to help, Kaz still despises exposure therapy and is often left feeling worse. It did help to a certain degree, but his mental state afterwards is so terrible that his parents decided to focus him more on CBT instead.

Though therapy has helped, Kaz still experiences minor claustrophobia and has a mild aversion to physical touch. He wears black leather gloves daily to keep physical contact to a minimum and is usually clothed from head to toe.

Kaz’s OCD
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is a mental health condition characterized by intrusive, unwanted thoughts (obsessions) and repetitive behaviors or mental rituals (compulsions) performed to reduce anxiety.

There are levels of severity to OCD:
Subclinical (0-7): Intrusive thoughts or rituals exist but cause minimal to no disruption.
Mild (8-15): Symptoms are present, occupy 1 to 3 hours daily, but are generally manageable with minor disruptions.
Moderate (16-23): Symptoms occupy 3 to 8 hours a day, causing distress and noticeably interfering with daily tasks or relationships.
Severe (24-31): Symptoms consume more than 8 hours a day, causing extreme distress and substantially impairing work, school, or self-care.
Extreme (32-40): Symptoms are nearly constant, highly debilitating, and can prevent the person from leaving their home or functioning independently.

Kaz had mild OCD, having small compulsions here and there to relieve his obsessions. However, if he is triggered, he can have panic attacks. His panic attacks are usually triggered by thoughts of sickness or threats of being sick. Anything that reminds him of the time he contracted Spattergroit can trigger him into a spiral.

Kaz’s Obsessions:
Contamination - Kaz has a mild fear of germs and dirt, but is terrified of contracting a disease. This is due to his past trauma with Spattergroit. His near-death experience with the disease causes him to be terrified of getting sick in any way. That is why he is now obsessed with keeping himself clean, insisting on wearing gloves during every hour of the day. He is very particular about his space and does not risk any chances of possible contamination.

Order - Kaz also has another obsession, and that is to make sure everything is in order and looks perfect. He is not so much affected by symmetry, but he is a freak for organization and believes that things must go in a certain way. This is milder than his obsession with contamination, but he will still give in to the urge to fix things that seem out of place. The primary reason for this would be his mother, Irina, who has drilled into his head that everything needs to be perfect. Kaz would make sure that his books are arranged in alphabetical order, that his clothes are ironed and folded, and that his writing tools go from most used to least used. They usually are not too big a deal.

However, it is not just physical objects. Kaz also believes that some actions should go in a specific order. These are the ones he has to keep in check, because he cannot really yell at someone who puts their socks on first, now can he? But you can tell since his eye twitches in irritation.

Kaz’s compulsions:
Cleaning and Washing - Kaz has a very specific routine that he goes through when he gets ready. I will not go into specifics, but just know that he is very particular in the order he washes himself in and is very strict on the fact that he cannot touch anything unclean, or else he will repeat it all over again. The good news is that he does this enough times that it does not eat away at his schedule too much, as long as no little “surprises” happen to interrupt his routine.

He will also clean his room and household objects frequently. Like every three days or if he feels the need to. Not exactly a bad thing, as most parents would love for their kids to clean their room, but Kaz’s parents view it as shameful since they have house-elves for the job already. Kaz cleaning his room makes them feel that he is… going beneath his status.

Ordering - This one is quite self-explanatory. Kaz will rearrange items until they feel right and fit the image in his mind. He also loves making lists and plans, as it gives him a sense of order and certainty that things must proceed in.

FATHER.
Viktor Dmitrievich Morozov - Russian descent.

Viktor could be described as a stern man: composed, focused, and unreadable. He does not get angry, nor does he smile. He has the emotional expression of a rock, one that Kaz is still trying to copy but not quite getting right. Nobody knows what Viktor went through in his childhood, but the man who emerged possesses so much self-control that one has to wonder: Is his composure due to years of practice and honing or to a life devoid of meaning?

THE MOROZOV DYNASTY.
The Morozov name is well-regarded and known for being the origin of many successful entrepreneurs. They own multiple businesses and investments that were acquired from years of strategic planning and transaction. However, despite their fame and wealth in the corporate world, they are also known for their strict, military-like traditions. One of their ancestors, Vladimir Igorovich Morozov, happened to hear of the discipline required in muggle militaries. Though the pureblood knows little about the muggle world, a few of his colleagues were able to inform him of the principles that these soldiers would follow. He would have never admitted it, but he was intrigued by their concept of discipline. So, he used that belief to raise his children, who then passed it on to the rest of the Morozov bloodline.

MOTHER.
Irina Drăgan Valeanu-Morozova - Romanian descent.

The lady of the house is best known for her cool-headedness and composure. She places a heavy value on education and discipline. Everything needs to be perfect for her. Perhaps it is her actions that made Kaz the way he is. Fueled by his mother’s obsessive desire for everything to be perfect, the young boy is also driven by the same thought. But like Kaz, Irina's eyes tell a story that her voice never could. Maybe her desire for control has a much deeper reason than anyone really thought.

THE VALEANU EMPIRE.
The Valeanu is an old aristocratic family famed for their dragon trading within the wizarding world. This ancient bloodline is the origin of many influential politicians, diplomats, and merchants. The Valeanu were able to buy many dragon reserves before dragon breeding became popular, so when the demand for these creatures rose, so did their profit. Their dragon reserves and trade have expanded exponentially, and they are well regarded all across Europe.

THE STORY.
Viktor Morozov and Irina Valeanu met on their wedding day. It was an arranged marriage to merge two very well-regarded families. The famed Morozov dynasty and influential Valeanu heritage would bring more success than one can imagine. The two heirs responsible were Viktor and Irina, who took the task with little defiance. The two knew their roles in their pureblood families and regarded this marriage as just another piece in the grand picture. Their marriage was an alliance between the dynasties and nothing more.

Another thing that perhaps made their union so successful was that the two could not care less about their own desires. They view wanting as weak and need as an excuse. The two only focus on their work and speak to each other as if business partners. They sleep in separate rooms and work on opposite sides of the mansion. When they had Kaz, whose creation was admittedly very bland and slightly awkward, they made a compromise to have actual family dinners. Family dinners where they would discuss politics and business.

Viktor and Irina are not evil people. They are just more… detached. It is sad, in a way, how much they focus on work and their legacy that they fail to recognize the value of everything else in life. The strict discipline they maintain while following their schedule makes them seem… robotic. Lifeless. Which, unfortunately, becomes harder to change as they age.