《Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy》


 Chapter 1: Return

    "Get up! Get up! Quickly!"


    The urgent sound of knocking echoed as Harry Potter groggily opened his eyes.


    He instinctively reached under his pillow for his wand but grasped at nothing.


    His green eyes narrowed, and as he raised his arm, he noticed it had grown weak and frail.


    What¡¯s going on?


    His heart sank as he looked around and realized he was in a cramped and narrow space.


    The cupboard under the stairs¡­


    The Dursleys¡¯ cupboard under the stairs. This was a long-forgotten memory.


    Could it be? Have I returned to 1991?


    ¡°Get up!¡±


    A sharp voice shouted again, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. He recognized it as Aunt Petunia¡¯s voice.


    He hadn¡¯t heard it in six years, almost forgetting the Dursleys altogether.


    Sitting up, Harry surveyed the cramped space.


    It¡¯s much smaller than the dormitory at Hogwarts, he thought.


    Ever since he had found that Hogwarts acceptance letter in this very cupboard, he had been whisked away to a school named Hogwarts, where he studied and lived for six years.


    He even felt like he was starting to blend into that Victorian-era lifestyle. Yet, somehow, he was suddenly back in the Elizabethan era.


    Harry grabbed his glasses from beside his pillow. Noticing the tape-wrapped frame, he curled a finger and lightly flicked it.


    The tape snapped with a crackling sound, circled the glasses¡¯ frame, and vanished as the frame restored itself.


    Putting on his glasses and stepping out, Harry saw Aunt Petunia had already left. A pungent and indescribable smell wafted toward him. Following the odor to the kitchen, he found its source¡ªan iron basin in the filthy sink.


    The Dursleys were already seated at the dining table. Harry marveled at how they tolerated the smell¡ªthough, considering Dudley¡¯s pig-like appetite and size, it would be strange if he wasn¡¯t eating.


    Seeing Harry enter, Uncle Vernon instinctively frowned.


    Before he could speak, the mailbox clattered, and letters dropped onto the doormat by the door.


    ¡°What are you standing there for?¡± Uncle Vernon barked. Then, turning to Dudley, he said, ¡°Use your Smeltings stick to make him fetch them.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Seeing Dudley gleefully reaching for the stick, Harry cast him a long look and walked off.


    Three letters lay scattered on the doormat. One was from Aunt Marge, another appeared to be a bill, and the last one was addressed in elegant green ink:


    Surrey, Little Whinging, Privet Drive No. 4, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, Mr. Harry Potter.


    The envelope was made of heavy parchment, sealed with wax bearing the Hogwarts crest.


    Taking a deep breath, Harry turned the envelope over. As expected, it bore the Hogwarts seal.


    Such letters¡­ Yesterday¡ªno, six years ago, to be precise¡ªhe had found one just like this in the cupboard. It was what led him to the Victorian era.


    Holding the letter, Harry returned to the kitchen amid Vernon¡¯s impatient shouting. He placed the other two letters on the table and carefully opened his own.


    ¡°Dad!¡± Dudley suddenly yelled. ¡°Dad! Harry¡¯s got something!¡±


    Before the words settled, Harry felt someone lunge at him. Instinctively, he raised his hand, and Uncle Vernon was suddenly floating mid-air before crashing back down.


    Non-verbal spellcasting, wandless magic.


    This was Harry Potter, Hogwarts¡¯ premier dueling champion.


    ¡°Wingardium Leviosa,¡± a standard levitation charm.


    Paired with ¡°Descendo¡± (soft landing), it was a spell combination taught to him by Sebastian Sallow from Slytherin House.


    Considering his uncle¡¯s troll-like bulk, Harry figured a hard fall might be fatal. So, he stopped the descent halfway, leaving Vernon dangling just inches above the ground.


    Holding his letter, Harry fanned himself casually. When Vernon began spewing profanities, Harry snapped his fingers, magically sealing Vernon¡¯s mouth like a zipped bag.


    ¡°Do you mind?¡± Harry asked with a polite smirk.


    Aunt Petunia let out a sharp scream.


    ¡°You¡­ You haven¡¯t even gone to Hogwarts yet! How do you know magic?¡±


    Harry¡¯s sharp ears caught the detail in her words.


    Lifting his head, his emerald eyes locked on hers. ¡°That¡¯s not important. What matters is how you know about Hogwarts and magic.¡±


    He waved the letter lightly.


    Petunia¡¯s throat went dry.


    ¡°It seems you¡¯ve been hiding quite a lot from me, Aunt,¡± Harry said with a chuckle. His tone was light but carried an edge as he glanced at Dudley, who was frozen, and Petunia, who looked terrified. ¡°Care to tell me?¡±


    ¡°No, absolutely not!¡± Petunia shrieked hysterically.


    Harry set the heavy parchment letter aside. Watching his aunt¡¯s reaction and Vernon¡¯s futile struggles in the air, memories of years of abuse surged back.


    It wasn¡¯t something six years at a magical school could erase. But while Harry bore no grudge against the Dursleys, Petunia¡¯s attitude made him less inclined to be lenient.


    ¡°Aunt, surely you¡¯ve heard of Legilimency¡ªa spell that allows wizards to read minds?¡± Harry said with a polite, refined tone. ¡°I¡¯d hate for us to resort to that.¡±


    Petunia looked at Harry as though he were a stranger. Overnight, he seemed to have transformed into someone disturbingly composed and dignified.


    What she didn¡¯t know was that, thanks to the eccentric Phineas Nigellus Black, Hogwarts students were required to learn ¡°pureblood etiquette.¡±


    Even a stone would absorb some flavor after six years, let alone Harry, a naturally clever wizard.


    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Petunia finally relented. ¡°Your parents were wizards. They were killed by a powerful dark wizard. That¡¯s all I know! I don¡¯t understand what they taught at that wretched school!¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re not a witch?¡±


    When Harry said this, Petunia¡¯s face twisted in anger and shame.


    ¡°Thank you for the information, Aunt,¡± Harry said with a smile, releasing Vernon from the spell and leaving them behind as he returned to his cupboard.


    Back inside, Harry opened the letter. At first glance, one detail struck him:


    Albus Dumbledore?


    Frowning, Harry recalled Phineas Nigellus Black, the headmaster during his time at Hogwarts.


    Could Phineas Nigellus Black be dead?


    Harry¡¯s previously sour mood brightened at the thought.


    Merlin¡¯s baggy pants¡­


    This called for a celebration!

 Chapter 2: Admission Notice

    Harry had held back for a long time, but in the end, he couldn''t suppress it. Sitting on what could barely be called a "bed," he burst out laughing.


    By Merlin''s bowtie¡ªPrincipal Black, he¡¯s dead!


    Phineas Black was undoubtedly the most despised headmaster the school had ever seen.


    How disliked was he? Two students who didn¡¯t even know each other could instantly bond like brothers over their shared disdain for him.


    There was even a saying at Hogwarts back then: "If you hate Principal Black, we¡¯re practically family."


    Shaking his head to dismiss the memory, Harry turned his attention back to the letter.


    Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry


    Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore


    (President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, First-Class Order of Merlin)


    Dear Mr. Potter,


    We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of required books and equipment.


    Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.


    Yours sincerely,


    Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress


    An owl reply?


    Harry instinctively rubbed the letter between his fingers. At this point in his life, he hadn¡¯t encountered the wizarding world, let alone owned an owl.


    If he went to Diagon Alley to buy one now, he couldn¡¯t afford it¡ªhe was penniless and came from a poor family.


    He flipped through the appended list of supplies. The textbooks were numerous and far beyond his means. And then there was the wand¡­


    A century ago, when he first attended school, it was Deputy Headmistress Mathilda Weasley who had kindly paid for his expenses and helped him apply for Hogwarts¡¯ scholarship fund.


    Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.


    Maybe¡­ borrow some money from the Dark Wizards?


    In the wizarding world a hundred years ago, Dark Wizards were rampant. Thanks to them, Harry often ended up practicing spells on them¡ªand borrowing quite a few Galleons afterward.


    Well then, he thought, Uncle Vernon can drive me to the Leaky Cauldron.


    But Dark Wizards¡­


    It seemed that his parents were killed by a powerful Dark Wizard.


    Harry¡¯s hand clenched the letter tightly.


    Judging by Aunt Petunia¡¯s behavior, she didn¡¯t seem to know much. After all, the Statute of Secrecy ensured that Muggles knowing about wizards was already a stretch.


    He didn¡¯t plan to ask Aunt Petunia, a Muggle with limited knowledge of the magical world. He would have to ask the wizards themselves.


    At that moment, he heard a knock at the door.


    Opening it, he was met with Aunt Petunia¡¯s conflicted expression.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Aunt?¡± Harry asked politely.


    ¡°When I opened the door earlier, there was an owl¡ªyes, an owl¡ªon the mailbox,¡± Aunt Petunia said irritably. However, Harry sensed that her irritation was masking another emotion.


    ¡°I think it delivered your letter. Back when Lily¡ªyour mother¡ªwas around, she used owls to send letters to her friends. You might need it to send a reply.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Aunt. Could you prepare some food for it?¡± Harry smiled faintly.


    Aunt Petunia¡¯s expression soured but she turned and left.


    Once she was gone, Harry pulled out a pen and paper from under the bed and wrote a carefully worded reply.


    Stepping out of his small room, Harry was surprised to find a bowl of sliced sausages and another of water placed near the door.


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    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said softly to Aunt Petunia, who was tidying up nearby. He picked up the plate and casually stuffed two slices of sausage into his mouth.


    The owl wouldn¡¯t mind, he thought, carrying the food outside.


    The owl was perched on the Dursleys¡¯ mailbox, one leg tucked under its fluffy feathers, looking like a perfectly balanced golden statue.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Harry greeted. ¡°Are you my postman?¡±


    ¡°Hoo hoo,¡± the owl replied.


    ¡°Thank you for your hard work. If you don¡¯t mind, have some water and food first.¡± Harry reached out to pat the owl¡¯s head.


    The owl lowered its foot and eyed the sausages in Harry¡¯s hand with an expression of disdain so human-like it almost made Harry laugh.


    Then, ignoring the sausages, it sipped some water from the other bowl, flapped its wings, and hooted twice.


    ¡°I see,¡± Harry said with a shrug. ¡°But these Cumberland sausages are excellent. You¡¯re missing out.¡±


    The owl hooted again, grabbed the reply letter, and flew off, leaving behind the Dursleys¡¯ sausage-free yard.


    ¡°Picky eater,¡± Harry muttered with a shrug, finishing the rest of the sausages himself.


    Returning to his room, Harry busied himself in the kitchen, conjuring a small wooden stool to stand on as he cleaned the dishes. He neatly put them away before retreating back to his little space.


    It wasn¡¯t long before someone from Hogwarts came to fetch him¡ªjust as they had a century ago, when Deputy Headmistress Mathilda Weasley first introduced him to the wizarding world.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s here for you! Freak¡ª¡±


    Aunt Petunia¡¯s sharp voice rang out, banging on the small cupboard door under the stairs. She was about to hurl the insult, but then remembered her husband¡¯s humiliating experience earlier that day when he was briefly levitated into the air.


    She swallowed her words at the last second but didn¡¯t bother hiding her annoyance.


    However, before she could walk away, the cupboard door opened, and Petunia saw Harry¡¯s face again.


    The face was a near-perfect replica of the one from more than ten years ago¡ªarrogant and self-assured.


    Petunia¡¯s anger reignited, her earlier hesitation evaporating.


    ¡°Freak!¡± she spat venomously before stomping off to the study without looking back.


    Harry blinked, confused but not surprised. He had come to expect this behavior from his aunt and her family.


    Muggles, he sighed internally.


    Muggles a century ago had been even worse when faced with wizards.


    At the door stood a large, furry head nearly filling the entire doorway.


    ¡°Oh, Harry¡­¡±


    The owner of the head blinked at him, and tears immediately welled up in its eyes. Large, glistening drops rolled down its cheeks.


    ¡°The last time I saw you, you were just a baby¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m a bit too big to fit through this door¡­¡±


    The figure¡¯s deep voice trembled with emotion, and Harry could detect a hint of a sob.


    Despite the overwhelming size of this stranger, Harry felt no threat. On the contrary, there was an undeniable warmth and sincerity emanating from him.


    ¡°Hello, I¡¯m Harry¡ªHarry Potter. Do you know me?¡± Harry asked politely.


    ¡°Ah, of course I do!¡± The man wiped his eyes with his sleeve. ¡°I¡¯m Rubeus Hagrid. It was me who brought you here all those years ago.¡±


    Hagrid¡¯s gaze fell on Harry again, and his nose twitched.


    ¡°Goodness, you look just like your dad¡­ And those eyes¡ªyou¡¯ve got your mum¡¯s eyes¡­¡±

 Chapter 3: Hagrid

    Hearing Hagrid''s words, Harry sharply caught a detail in his speech.


    "So... you knew my parents?"


    Then he realized it was quite rude to keep someone standing at the door, so he invited, "Sorry, that was impolite of me, Mr. Hagrid. Please come in."


    "Oh no, no, I''m far too tall; I wouldn''t fit in this house," Hagrid replied, slightly embarrassed. "Besides, I need to take you to Diagon Alley. If you don''t mind, we can talk on the way."


    "Alright," Harry nodded. Hagrid immediately stepped aside to let Harry pass through the doorway.


    It wasn''t until Harry stepped outside that he realized just how tall Hagrid really was.


    "Wow, you''re huge," Harry said, tilting his head up, his comment coming out dry.


    "You''re not the first to say that, Harry. Now, let''s get going¡ª" Hagrid paused halfway through his sentence, awkwardly scratching his shaggy head. "Shouldn''t we let your aunt know? She is your guardian, after all."


    "I think my uncle and aunt would be delighted for you to take me away," Harry said, his tone layered with meaning.


    "Really?" Hagrid asked suspiciously.


    Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from inside the house, followed by a loud roar.


    "Harry Potter¡ª"


    Hearing Uncle Vernon''s voice, Hagrid''s attention shifted, and Harry tugged on his sleeve, pointing behind him.


    "Hagrid, what¡¯s that?"


    While Hagrid turned to look, Harry spun around, just in time to see Uncle Vernon charging down the stairs like a truck.


    Covering his mouth with one hand, Harry focused on Uncle Vernon, muttering a spell softly under his breath.


    "Confundus!"


    Uncle Vernon stopped in his tracks, squinting at Harry, then at Hagrid, who was still looking away. Muttering something incomprehensible, he turned around and marched back upstairs, as if he''d suddenly remembered something.


    When Hagrid finally turned back, he scratched his head in confusion. "I didn¡¯t see anything. What did you see?"


    "I must''ve been mistaken. I thought it was a motorbike."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    As he said this, Harry suddenly recalled a dream he¡¯d had before. "It was like the motorbike that often appears in my dreams¡ªthe one that flies."


    "Harry..." Hagrid''s face lit up with delight. "You still remember! You remember how I rode a motorbike to bring you to the Dursleys''!"


    Before Hagrid could finish, a rapid knocking on the window interrupted him.


    Both turned to look. Uncle Vernon was outside, pointing furiously at them, his mouth moving wordlessly.


    "Your uncle... what¡¯s he doing?" Hagrid asked instinctively, sensing that Mr. Dursley¡¯s attitude wasn¡¯t friendly.


    Harry shaded his eyes with his hand and explained, "Oh, Uncle Vernon is just telling me to be happy."


    Hagrid hesitated, glancing up at Uncle Vernon, who was still angrily pointing and shouting, then looking down at Harry. "It doesn¡¯t seem like it to me."


    "Well, they¡¯re Muggles," Harry said, his tone solemn as he wiped away invisible tears. "You know, their way of showing love is different from wizards''. After all, I lost my mom at such a young age..."


    "Oh, Harry..." Hagrid leaned down compassionately and enveloped Harry in a massive hug.


    Harry didn¡¯t resist the gesture, and when Hagrid released him, he looked up and asked, "So, Hagrid, how are we going to travel?"


    "Hmm... we¡¯ll take the train. On my way here, I heard there¡¯s a train to London from Surrey every hour," Hagrid said before asking, "By the way, Harry, did you bring the letter from school?"


    Harry patted the pocket near his chest, beaming up at Hagrid. "Got it, right here!"


    "Good lad," Hagrid said, his own grin broadening as he ruffled Harry¡¯s messy hair. "You¡¯re so much like your mother. Alright, let¡¯s head to the station."


    Hagrid¡¯s massive frame naturally drew attention. He got stuck at the ticket barrier and later had to occupy two seats on the train.


    Once they were settled, Harry broke the silence. "Hagrid, you seem to know my parents?"


    "Oh, of course I do." Hagrid chuckled heartily as he worked on a bright yellow, circus-like knitted bag, which seemed to muffle his booming voice as he continued. "When they were students, I got along quite well with both of them. Especially your mother, Lily¡ªshe was Head Girl. Such a kind and gentle soul, we all adored her."


    "And your father, James, was Gryffindor¡¯s famous Quidditch Chaser and Head Boy," Hagrid reminisced, his beetle-black eyes gleaming. "A fine man, in every way... I¡¯ve never known anyone as loyal as him."


    "Really?" Harry''s eyes sparkled with excitement.


    For so many lonely nights, he had longed for a father¡¯s and mother¡¯s love. Whenever he saw Dudley spoiled by his aunt and uncle, Harry couldn¡¯t help but wonder: if his parents had lived, would he have been cherished like that?


    Not treated like an unwanted guest, enduring their disdain.


    The thought made Harry furious. Rage bubbled inside him as he imagined finding the dark wizard who had orphaned him and making him pay dearly.


    "Yes, Harry," Hagrid said, oblivious to Harry¡¯s shifting emotions, lost in his memories of the Potters. "It¡¯s such a shame... such a shame about what happened ten years ago..."


    "So..." Harry''s eyes flashed. "The dark wizard who killed my parents¡ªwho is he?"


    Hagrid shuddered at the question. "It¡¯s... the You-Know-Who."


    "You-Know-Who?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.


    "Yes, You-Know-Who," Hagrid said, coughing to mask his fear. "That dark wizard, he..."


    Noticing Hagrid¡¯s unease, Harry placed a hand on his arm, offering comfort. "Actually, I don¡¯t need to know if it¡¯s too hard to say..."


    "Oh no, Harry," Hagrid shook his head firmly. "I can¡¯t let you go to Hogwarts not knowing a thing."


    "But unless it¡¯s absolutely necessary, I¡¯d rather not say his name¡ªno one likes to."


    "So everyone just calls him ''You-Know-Who''?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised again.

 Chapter 4: What about the next day?

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    "Yes, oh, by Merlin¡¯s saggy pants..." Hagrid sighed wistfully. "Even after all this time, people still shudder at the thought. That man was so utterly evil. His name was..."


    However, as he reached this point, he swallowed hard and couldn¡¯t bring himself to say another word.


    "Maybe... we could write the name down?" Harry suggested helpfully.


    "No, I can¡¯t spell it. Let me just tell you¡ªit¡¯s Voldemort." Hagrid shivered. "This dark wizard was incredibly powerful. Most wizards don¡¯t dare mention his name and instead use... you know, that title."


    "Where is he now?" Harry took a deep breath.


    Justice must be served. The death of his parents¡ªhe, their son, had to avenge it!


    But Harry noticed that Hagrid¡¯s expression suddenly turned odd.


    "What¡¯s wrong?" he asked.


    "Uh... the Dark Lord is dead." Hagrid reached out to ruffle Harry¡¯s hair again. "On that night ten years ago, he tried to kill you, but you... well, I don¡¯t know what happened exactly. Anyway, he couldn¡¯t kill you, and instead, he... poof."


    At this point, Hagrid spread his arms wide, mimicking the motion of fireworks.


    Hearing this, Harry¡¯s face also took on a peculiar expression.


    Such a powerful dark wizard, defeated by a baby?


    He had built up so much determination to seek vengeance against this dark wizard, only to find out¡ªthe score had been settled ten years ago?


    By his own hands, no less...


    It felt like preparing a punch with full strength, only for it to land on a pillow.


    "So he¡¯s dead?" Harry asked.


    "Everyone thinks so. Someone as wicked as him¡ªif he hasn¡¯t caused trouble for ten years, he must be dead." Hagrid clenched his fist and lightly punched his thigh. "But I don¡¯t think so. Someone like him wouldn¡¯t die so easily. He must be hiding somewhere, waiting for the right moment to resurface."


    Harry nodded thoughtfully and then asked, "So, Hagrid, how powerful was this dark wizard?"


    "Powerful?" Hagrid looked at Harry as if he were an alien. "Ha! In his prime, he gathered a massive following. Some joined him to gain power; others out of fear. Those were truly dark times. You didn¡¯t know whom to trust. He killed wizards left and right, spreading terror across the magical world. But there was one place he never dared to enter¡ªHogwarts."


    "Why?" Harry asked.


    "Why?" Hagrid repeated, and his expression turned proud. "Because Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard in the world. No matter how powerful the Dark Lord was, he wouldn¡¯t dare provoke him!"


    Harry nodded in understanding. It seemed this headmaster... wasn¡¯t as obnoxious as Phineas Nigellus Black.


    "So, this Vold¡ª" Seeing Hagrid¡¯s nervous expression at the mere mention of the name, Harry quickly corrected himself, "Sorry, I mean the Dark Lord. During his reign of terror, did he kill many wizards?"


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Yes, it was a dark, dark time," Hagrid said with a shiver. "He killed hundreds of wizards."


    Hearing the number, Harry frowned slightly and nodded pensively.


    "Um, and the next day?"


    Hagrid: "Huh?"


    Realizing his slip, Harry quickly rephrased. "I mean, why didn¡¯t Headmaster Dumbledore stop the Dark Lord?"


    "Dumbledore formed an organization to fight against him and his followers¡ª"


    At this point, the train came to a halt, cutting off Hagrid¡¯s words.


    "Well, I think we should get off now," Hagrid said, packing up the tent. "We¡¯ve arrived in London."


    As they disembarked, Hagrid grumbled about how narrow the ticket barriers were and how slow the train was.


    Harry agreed. After all, the Hogwarts Express was much faster than this old subway.


    Towering over the crowd, Hagrid led Harry out of the station, walking toward their destination.


    For Harry, this was his first time in London¡ªor more precisely, the London of 1991. He had visited Victorian-era London with his classmates, though.


    Skyscrapers loomed overhead, and the streets buzzed with traffic. Everything was vastly different from the Victorian London he had known.


    Harry found it refreshing. As Hagrid led him forward, he kept glancing around, trying to take in the cityscape.


    It all felt surreal, especially since just last month, he had been wandering through London with his classmates.


    For Harry, it had only been a month. For London, however, a full century had passed.


    "Here we are," Hagrid interrupted Harry¡¯s musings, pointing to a small, grimy pub. "The Leaky Cauldron. A famous spot."


    Meanwhile, a group of trendy young people walked past them, chatting excitedly. They paid no attention to Hagrid or the pub at all.


    Logically, someone as massive as Hagrid should have drawn their eyes, especially from Muggles.


    But none of them seemed to notice him, which was downright strange.


    Must be a Muggle-repelling charm, Harry thought.


    Then Hagrid nudged him into the pub.


    The Leaky Cauldron was a place Harry had visited many times before. Founded around the 1500s by Daisy Dodderidge, it served as a passage between the Muggle world and Diagon Alley.


    Aside from its bar, the pub also had rooms upstairs for rent.


    During his last visit, he had heard rumors that the Muggle government was planning to build Charing Cross Road, which would demolish the pub.


    The then-Minister for Magic, Faris Spavin, had resigned himself to this "inevitable fate," taking no action to save it.


    Just days before his return to 1991, Harry had heard classmates rallying their families to pressure the Ministry into preserving the pub.


    Even Ominis privately remarked it was a pointless effort, but Harry still signed the petition.


    Looking at it now, the pub had survived.

 Chapter 5: I Thought It Was Harry Potter

    Even after a century, the Leaky Cauldron remained as dirty and cramped as Harry remembered.


    As they pushed open the door, a strong smell of alcohol hit them, mixed with the stench of secondhand smoke.


    The patrons seemed to recognize Hagrid immediately. Upon seeing his towering figure, several customers at the bar raised their glasses and loudly welcomed him.


    "The usual, Hagrid?" asked Tom, the bartender behind the counter.


    "Oh, not today, Tom. I''ve got important business," Hagrid replied, patting Harry''s thin shoulder with his large hand. "I''m taking Harry to Diagon Alley."


    At the mention of Harry''s name, the noisy bar fell silent in an instant. All eyes turned toward Hagrid¡ªmore specifically, to the small boy standing by his side.


    "My goodness, is it really you?" Tom exclaimed, dropping the glass he had been cleaning onto the floor with a clatter.


    Rushing out from behind the counter, Tom approached Harry, grabbing his hand with tears in his eyes.


    "Harry Potter, what an honor¡ªwelcome, welcome back!"


    Harry felt both surprised and overwhelmed.


    Could it be that people even a century later still remembered his exploits¡ªdefeating the Ash Serpent faction and quelling the goblin rebellion?


    If they could recognize him, did that mean¡ª


    He had no idea what to say as the crowd pressed in, each eager to shake his hand.


    "It''s such an honor, Mr. Potter, truly an honor."


    "I''ve always hoped to meet you¡ªmy heart is pounding so hard!"


    After the wizards expressed their admiration, Hagrid finally pulled Harry away, saying, "Sorry, folks, but I need to take Harry to Diagon Alley for some shopping."


    He managed to extricate Harry from the throng.


    "See? I told you, you''re famous," Hagrid said with a smile.


    Harry gave him a faint smile in return, asking quietly, "Why are they acting like this?"


    "Why?" Hagrid said dramatically, clapping Harry on the back. "You defeated the most fearsome dark wizard of the century! You deserve every bit of respect!"If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Ah, so that¡¯s it¡­


    Harry nodded in understanding, feeling a wave of relief.


    It was a good thing they hadn¡¯t recognized him as the Harry Potter from a hundred years ago.


    Time was a forbidden concept; the ability to travel through it and return to one¡¯s youth was enough to drive anyone mad.


    What¡¯s more, "that Harry" was one of the heirs to ancient magic, something well-known in the wizarding world of the past.


    Dark wizards coveting ancient magic had once ambushed him openly during his student transfer. Harry doubted the dark wizards of this era were any more merciful.


    Now that he had returned to being eleven, his magical strength had regressed accordingly. Facing ordinary dark wizards might be manageable, but if someone like Ranrock appeared, he wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.


    Thus, this secret was best kept hidden.


    Harry made up his mind silently.


    Meanwhile, Hagrid was giving instructions beside him. "Count three bricks up¡ªthen two bricks across¡ªalright, step back, Harry¡­"


    Noticing Harry still seemed lost in thought, Hagrid chuckled, thinking he was upset about the earlier crowd. "Harry, did you hear me?"


    "Oh," Harry snapped back to reality. Seeing they had reached the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, he took Hagrid¡¯s umbrella, counted carefully, and tapped three times on a brick with the tip.


    The brick he tapped began to shake and shift, revealing a small hole in the center that gradually widened.


    Before long, a large archway appeared, wide enough for even Hagrid to pass through. It opened onto a winding cobblestone street that stretched endlessly ahead.


    "Not bad at all, Harry," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Welcome to Diagon Alley."


    Harry returned the umbrella to Hagrid, hesitating as he asked, "Um, Hagrid, I don¡¯t have any money¡­"


    "Ah, no need to worry about that. You don¡¯t think your parents left you with nothing, do you?" Hagrid explained. "Come on, if you¡¯re concerned, we¡¯ll go to Gringotts first to withdraw some gold."


    Gringotts looked the same as ever, unchanged by time. Its entrance faced Diagon Alley, with white stone steps leading to two gleaming bronze doors.


    A goblin dressed in scarlet and gold stood by the door, bowing as Harry and Hagrid entered.


    Beyond the first set of doors was an entrance hall, followed by a second set of silver doors. Harry noticed words engraved on the silver:


    "Enter, stranger, but take heed,


    Of what awaits the sin of greed.


    For those who take but do not earn,


    Must pay most dearly in return.


    So if you seek beneath our floors,


    A treasure that was never yours,


    Thief, you have been warned, beware,


    Of finding more than treasure there."


    "As I said, anyone who tries to rob this bank is mad," Hagrid remarked.


    The two walked to a counter in the main hall, where Hagrid addressed a goblin not currently occupied.


    "Morning," Hagrid said. "We¡¯d like to withdraw some gold from Harry Potter¡¯s vault¡­"


    Before he could finish, the goblin let out a sharp, piercing screech.


    "Who?! Did you say who?!"


    All the goblins nearby stopped their work, turning toward the goblin that had screeched.


    Hagrid, unfazed by the reaction, continued, "Harry Potter."


    "Harry Potter?! I know it¡¯s Harry Potter! But which Harry Potter?!" the goblin demanded shrilly.


    The main hall of Gringotts hummed with energy as goblins began whispering to one another, clearly excited.


    "Which Potter could it be?" Hagrid replied, sounding impatient. "Of course, it¡¯s the Harry Potter, the one who defeated You-Know-Who. He¡¯s about to start school, and I¡¯ve brought him to withdraw money from his family¡¯s vault."


    Hearing this, the goblin visibly relaxed. "Ah, Harry Potter. For a moment, I thought you meant that Harry Potter(1800s)."


    The goblin straightened up, his demeanor once again professional. "Do you have the vault key?"

 Chapter 6: Gringotts Vault

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve brought it,¡± Hagrid said, rummaging in his pocket as he spoke.


    First, he pulled out two dormice and placed them on the counter, then a puffskein. Finally, after searching for a while, he exhaled in relief.


    ¡°Found it.¡± Hagrid held up a tiny golden key.


    The goblin took the key, examined it carefully, and then handed it back to Hagrid.


    ¡°Seems to be in order.¡±


    ¡°I also have a letter from Professor Dumbledore himself,¡± Hagrid said nonchalantly, pulling a crumpled letter from his pocket. ¡°It¡¯s about the item in Vault 713.¡±


    Harry realized Hagrid was talking about something secret, but Hagrid¡¯s voice was so loud that he couldn¡¯t help overhearing the words ¡°Vault 713¡¯s item.¡±


    What was this, loudly plotting secrets? Harry found it both funny and exasperating.


    The goblin accepted the letter, carefully inspecting the magical seals before reading it thoroughly. Afterward, he nodded and said, ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll have someone escort you¡ªGriphook!¡±


    At the goblin¡¯s call, another goblin, short and dressed formally, approached them.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go,¡± Hagrid said, patting Harry on the shoulder to signal him to follow. ¡°We¡¯ll get your money first, then take care of business.¡±


    ¡°Hey, your animals,¡± the goblin at the counter reminded loudly.


    Hagrid suddenly remembered the small creatures still on the desk. He went back to retrieve the dormice and puffskein, which were still bewildered, and stuffed them back into his large pocket before striding off after Griphook.


    Harry and Hagrid followed Griphook to a cart, which sped swiftly along the tracks toward the vaults.


    The cart moved so fast that the cold air roared past them, making Harry¡¯s eyes sting.


    Noticing that neither Hagrid nor Griphook was paying attention to him, Harry conjured a small magical shield in front of his face to block the wind.


    ¡°Hagrid, do you really think my family left me money?¡± Harry asked, still worried.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Harry,¡± Hagrid reassured him with a chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re worried about money? Ha! If James knew, he¡¯d¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, the cart screeched to a halt.


    ¡°We¡¯ve arrived,¡± Griphook said in a businesslike tone.


    Hagrid stepped forward and unlocked the vault with the key.


    ¡°Wow...¡±


    Harry was dazzled by the piles of gold coins inside. Who would have thought he had such a small fortune buried deep beneath London?


    For some reason, the sight made him think of the golden-haired girl he¡¯d met on the train in his first year.


    The girl, proud and arrogant, always flaunted her father¡¯s wealth and mocked his poverty, often attempting to recruit him as her lackey.


    Especially that summer after his second year...


    ¡°Oh? What are you doing here? Buying second-hand robes?¡±


    Outside Twilfitt and Tattings, Cassandra Malfoy stood haughtily, looking down her nose at a bashful Harry.


    Harry didn¡¯t mind her ridicule, though. Compared to the Dursleys, her comments were quite mild.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Harry smiled at the blonde girl. ¡°Are there any here you¡¯ve worn before?¡±


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    At his words, her grey eyes filled with disdain. She turned and left the shop without a word.


    That afternoon, he received two used Slytherin robes...


    ¡°Harry? Harry?¡±


    Hagrid¡¯s voice snapped him back to reality. Hagrid grinned and said, ¡°See? I wasn¡¯t lying. Your family left you quite a bit of money.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Harry, still marveling at the wealth, thought to himself that he might even be richer than the Malfoys now.


    ¡°These gold coins are called Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts,¡± Hagrid explained patiently. ¡°Seventeen Sickles make a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts make a Sickle. Easy enough, right?¡±


    As he spoke, Hagrid helped Harry stuff coins into his pockets.


    Easy enough?


    No matter how many times he heard it, Harry couldn¡¯t help but complain internally about the wizarding currency system.


    When would the wizarding world learn from Muggles and reform their currency system? Even a tradition-bound place like Britain had ditched its old system in 1971.


    ¡°Alright, this should last you two terms. The rest will stay safe here,¡± Hagrid said, packing Harry¡¯s pockets with coins before turning to Griphook. ¡°Now take us to Vault 713, but can you slow the cart down a bit?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one speed,¡± Griphook replied curtly.


    Hagrid shrugged at Harry helplessly. Harry didn¡¯t mind, though, as he had his mini magical shield.


    The door to Vault 713 had no keyhole, something Harry noticed immediately.


    ¡°Step back,¡± Griphook said solemnly, extending a long finger to tap the door lightly. The door melted away piece by piece.


    ¡°Only Gringotts goblins should do this,¡± Griphook warned. ¡°Unless you want to be sucked into the door and never come out.¡±


    The vault was bound to hold something incredibly valuable, Harry thought as he watched Griphook and Hagrid enter. Moments later, they emerged.


    Instantly, Harry felt a strong surge of ancient magical energy emanating from the item Hagrid was carrying.


    He regretted not going in to see it for himself. He could feel that the item had something to do with ancient magic, which couldn¡¯t be used before the age of fifteen¡ªonly sensed.


    His intuition told him that the item could bypass the age restriction.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Harry asked, trying to sound like an inquisitive eleven-year-old.


    ¡°Oh, no, Harry, I can¡¯t tell you that,¡± Hagrid said hastily. ¡°It¡¯s a task Professor Dumbledore gave me, to deliver it to Hogwarts¡ªwell, he strictly forbade me from talking about it. Sorry, lad.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± Harry said, nodding in understanding. If it was a secret, he couldn¡¯t press Hagrid for details.


    Besides, Hagrid had already become a friend in his heart, a towering and kind presence.


    And Hagrid¡¯s earlier unfinished sentence had given him a clue.


    Since it was going to Hogwarts, he¡¯d have plenty of chances to study it after term started.


    ------


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 Chapter 7: I Think He Looks Like Lily

    After leaving Gringotts, Hagrid suggested taking Harry to purchase the items listed in his acceptance letter.


    As they passed a sweet shop, Hagrid bought two ice creams and handed Harry one topped with raspberry and chocolate sauce. Eating as they walked, they made their way to Madam Malkin''s Robes for All Occasions.


    Madam Malkin was a plump, kind-looking witch with a warm smile. When she saw Harry, she cheerfully welcomed him into the shop.


    Harry quickly finished his ice cream and followed Madam Malkin into the store.


    "Dear, you''re here for your Hogwarts robes, aren''t you? We have many styles, and we can customize them to your needs," she explained enthusiastically. "Oh, there''s already a young witch inside trying on robes. I think you two will get along well."


    Following her gesture, Harry spotted a bushy-haired girl standing on a stool while a witch pinned up her robes.


    Madam Malkin guided Harry to stand beside the girl, and as he approached, the girl turned to face him.


    "Oh, are you a new student at Hogwarts too?" she asked, tilting her head with an air of pride¡ªa different sort of pride from Cassandra''s. Cassandra''s came from her aristocratic lineage, but this girl''s demeanor reminded Harry of a top student from his Muggle school.


    It was the pride of an academic overachiever.


    Yet, her prominent front teeth amusingly reminded Harry of the dormice Hagrid had in his pocket.


    "Yes," Harry responded with a faint smile.


    Hermione also took note of Harry''s attire¡ªnot its worn appearance but the unmistakable Muggle style.


    "Are you from a Muggle family too?" Hermione''s tone became more friendly.


    "Sort of," Harry replied.


    Hermione nodded knowingly.


    "Hermione Granger," she said, extending her hand. "Pleased to meet you."


    "Harry, Harry Potter." Harry extended his hand and shook hers.


    At his introduction, Hermione''s expression shifted to astonishment.


    "My goodness, is it really you?" she exclaimed. "I know all about you, of course. I bought a few extra reference books for light reading¡ªModern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. They all mention you prominently."


    Light reading?


    Harry thought Hermione might not be the kind of person he''d naturally get along with¡ªshe seemed like the archetypal Ravenclaw.


    "A famous person like you shouldn¡¯t be living in the Muggle world. Why did you tell me you''re from a Muggle family?" Hermione asked, frowning.


    "You see, my parents were killed by Voldemort when I was very young," Harry explained quietly. "I was raised by my aunt and only recently learned about magic."


    "Oh, I¡¯m so sorry," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I truly didn¡¯t know."


    "It¡¯s fine," Harry said with a smile. "After all, you couldn¡¯t have known."


    "Miss Granger?"


    A stern voice interrupted. Harry turned to see a witch in a green robe and glasses.


    "Professor McGonagall!" Hermione exclaimed, clearly delighted to see her.


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    McGonagall smiled warmly at Hermione before turning her attention to Harry, her gaze meeting his emerald-green eyes.


    "And this must be... Mr. Potter?" she said.


    "Good day, Professor," Harry replied with a polite bow.


    McGonagall inclined her head slightly, a wistful expression briefly crossing her face.


    He reminds me of Lily, McGonagall thought, feeling pleased.


    At that moment, Madam Malkin approached.


    "If you don¡¯t mind, ladies¡ªand this young gentleman," Madam Malkin said, addressing Harry, "I need to start taking measurements."


    "I¡¯ll see you later, Harry," Hermione said as she stepped down. "See you at school."


    "See you," Harry nodded. "Goodbye, Professor."


    After being measured, Harry and Hagrid continued exploring Diagon Alley, purchasing everything on Harry¡¯s school supply list.


    Finally, they arrived at Ollivanders, the wand shop.


    "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC," Harry read aloud from the peeling gold lettering on the sign.


    "Quite ancient, isn¡¯t it?" Hagrid said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "I bought my wand here when I started at Hogwarts¡ªjust like nearly every student from the school."


    Harry nodded in agreement. He himself had bought a wand here a century ago when the shop was run by Givens Ollivander, a slightly eccentric wizard.


    Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.


    But where was that old wand now? Harry felt a need to track down his former companion.


    The shop was small, containing only a single long bench.


    Hagrid informed Harry he needed to step out briefly, leaving him alone in the shop.


    He didn¡¯t have to wait long before a soft voice greeted him.


    "Good afternoon."


    "Hello," Harry replied, turning to face an elderly man.


    If Harry guessed correctly, this man must be Givens Ollivander''s son.


    "Yes, yes indeed," the man said, nodding fervently. "I¡¯ve been expecting you, Harry Potter. Your eyes are just like your mother¡¯s. I remember when she came here to buy her first wand¡ªit seems like only yesterday. Ten and a quarter inches, made of willow, swishy, and perfect for charms work."


    "Your father¡¯s wand was quite different," Ollivander continued. "Mahogany, eleven inches, pliable, excellent for Transfiguration. He was very fond of it... though, of course, it¡¯s the wand that chooses the wizard."


    Ollivander leaned in closer, studying Harry intently.


    "And that scar of yours..." He reached out to brush aside Harry¡¯s fringe, revealing the lightning-shaped scar. "I¡¯m sorry to say it was caused by a wand I sold. Thirteen and a half inches, yew, with a phoenix feather core. A powerful wand¡ªterribly powerful¡ªthat fell into the wrong hands."


    Harry subtly stepped back, putting some space between himself and the overly inquisitive Ollivander.


    "I forgive you," Harry said.


    ------


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 Chapter 8: Magic Wand and Birthday Present

    Mr. Ollivander opened his mouth slightly, clearly not expecting Harry to say something like that.


    To avoid an awkward silence, Mr. Ollivander decided to change the topic.


    "Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said, turning back to the counter. He pulled out a measuring tape and then asked, "Which arm do you usually use for your wand?"


    "My right hand, sir," Harry replied, maintaining a polite smile.


    "Raise your arm, oh good." Mr. Ollivander began taking Harry''s measurements, from his shoulder to fingertips, then wrist to elbow, and even from his shoulder to the floor.


    Harry couldn¡¯t figure out why buying a wand required such precise measurements. It wasn''t as though he was buying clothes. Did they really need to measure his waist, too?


    As he measured, Mr. Ollivander explained¡ªthough to Harry, it sounded more like a lecture about dragon heartstrings, phoenix feathers, and unicorn hair. He didn¡¯t explain why he needed to take so many measurements.


    After what felt like ages, the measuring process finally ended, and Harry let out a small sigh of relief.


    "Alright," Mr. Ollivander said, letting the tape measure drop to the floor where it coiled itself up. "Now then, Mr. Potter, try this one¡ªmaple wood, phoenix feather core, seven inches, quite springy. Give it a go."


    Harry took the wand and barely gave it a wave before Mr. Ollivander snatched it back.


    "No, not this one. Try this¡ªebony wood, unicorn hair core, eight-and-a-half inches, very strong flexibility," he said, handing Harry another wand.


    Harry obediently took the wand, but before he could even wave it, Mr. Ollivander grabbed it from him.


    "No, no. Try this one instead," Mr. Ollivander muttered to himself. "Aspen wood, dragon heartstring core, eleven and three-quarter inches."


    This time, Harry didn¡¯t reach for the wand.


    "Mr. Potter? Please, give it a try," Mr. Ollivander prompted, thinking Harry had zoned out.


    "Are you sure this one is right for me?" Harry asked. "I feel like you¡¯ll just decide it doesn¡¯t suit me before I even try."


    "It does seem like you and this one don¡¯t quite match," Mr. Ollivander murmured, ignoring Harry¡¯s sarcastic tone. He dove back into his shelves, rummaging for a long while.


    "Aha!" he finally exclaimed, pulling out a box from the very bottom. He opened it carefully, almost reverently. "Beechwood, dragon heartstring core, eleven inches."


    Harry didn¡¯t take it right away. Instead, he looked at Mr. Ollivander.


    "Go on, try it," Mr. Ollivander said cheerfully, holding the wand out to him.


    Harry finally took the wand. The moment it touched his hand, he felt a warm surge flow through him. The wand¡¯s tip emitted a glowing light that burst into sparks, scattering like fireworks and even splashing onto the walls around them.


    "Ah, yes, yes, that¡¯s it!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, covering his mouth in delight. "Beechwood! I knew it would be beechwood¡ªyou see, a true match for a beechwood wand signifies a unique individual. If they are young, they possess wisdom beyond their years. If they are an adult, they are insightful and experienced."


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    Harry¡¯s lips twitched downward into a faint frown as he muttered, "Not bad."


    He quickly pulled out some Galleons and, after confirming the price with Mr. Ollivander, laid out seven Galleons on the counter to purchase the wand. Mr. Ollivander bowed deeply as he escorted Harry out of the shop.


    Outside the shop, Hagrid stood waiting with a large cake in his hands.


    Seeing Harry emerge, Hagrid walked up and handed the cake to him. "I know your birthday¡¯s coming up, but we¡¯ll be parting ways soon. You¡¯re heading back to the Dursleys, so consider this an early celebration."


    Harry looked down at the cake. On it, the words "HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY" were spelled out. Two of the three words were misspelled, but his name, at least, was correct.


    "Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, giving him a wide smile. "I love it. If you don¡¯t mind, how about we share it back at the Leaky Cauldron before we part ways?"


    "Ah, Harry," Hagrid said, ruffling Harry¡¯s already messy hair with his large hand.


    Back at the Leaky Cauldron, they enjoyed the cake. Along with all the books and supplies Harry had purchased, Hagrid also gifted him a snowy owl for his birthday. Harry decided to name her Hedwig.


    Thankfully, keeping snowy owls as pets was legal in England, so there was no need to worry about the authorities. However, the stares they received along the way were unavoidable.


    "Ah, I regret it now," Hagrid sighed. "I should¡¯ve called the Knight Bus."


    "The Knight Bus?" Harry asked, pretending not to know.


    He had nearly forgotten about the Knight Bus, which he had taken a few times during his school years.


    "The Knight Bus helps stranded witches and wizards. It can take you anywhere on land," Hagrid explained. "Just take out your wand and stick it up in the air¡ª"


    Following Hagrid¡¯s instructions, Harry raised his wand into the air.


    "Bang!"


    A double-decker bus appeared almost instantly. At the same time, Harry noticed that the passersby, who had been gawking at their unusual group, suddenly stopped paying attention.


    Confundus Charm, Harry thought. It was likely embedded in the magic of the Knight Bus.


    "Hey, you two, are you getting on or not?" the conductor called from the bus door.


    Hagrid quickly grabbed their bags and led Harry aboard.


    "To Little Whinging, Number Four, Privet Drive," Hagrid told the conductor.


    As Hagrid dealt with the conductor, Harry couldn¡¯t help but smile to himself. The thought of Dudley, who got carsick easily, experiencing a ride on the Knight Bus was amusing. The look on his pudgy face would¡¯ve been priceless.


    ------


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 Chapter 9: Pigs with Wigs

    Considering that the Dursley residence wasn¡¯t very far, Harry and Hagrid opted for the nine-sickle meal on the Knight Bus without bothering to order hot cocoa or grab a towel and toothbrush.


    The Knight Bus was incredibly fast, far outpacing any Muggle transportation. Obstacles in its path magically shifted aside, making the journey both safe and full of magical charm.


    In less than twenty minutes, Harry arrived at the Dursleys'' doorstep.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be going in with you,¡± Hagrid said. ¡°I¡¯ve got to report back to Dumbledore.¡±


    ¡°Alright, Hagrid,¡± Harry said, resting his hand on the cage containing Hedwig. ¡°Safe travels. See you at Hogwarts.¡±


    ¡°See you at Hogwarts,¡± Hagrid replied, waving cheerfully before the Knight Bus disappeared from view with a blink.


    The sky was still bright, as London¡¯s higher latitude meant that in July, nightfall didn¡¯t fully settle until about 7:30 PM. The Dursleys hadn¡¯t gone to bed yet, given the dramatic events of the day. Ever since Harry left, Petunia and Vernon had been locked in discussion about what to do. Even Dudley¡¯s antics¡ªpacing in his Smeltings school uniform in a bid for attention¡ªwent unnoticed.


    Bored, Dudley sat by the door, and when he spotted Harry suddenly appearing, his pudgy face twisted into a mischievous grin.


    Whenever Dudley was in a bad mood, he¡¯d vent his frustrations on Harry, bullying him mercilessly. Now that his favorite punching bag was back, Dudley felt it was the perfect time for some ¡°reunion fun.¡±


    He seemed to have entirely forgotten about the earlier events of the day.


    ¡°Hey, Dudley,¡± Harry greeted him, undeterred by Dudley¡¯s approach. ¡°Help me carry these bags inside, will you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Dudley sneered, cracking his knuckles. ¡°What if I say no?¡±


    ¡°You will,¡± Harry said confidently, pointing at Dudley¡¯s backside. ¡°Unless you want that little pig tail gone. By the way, didn¡¯t someone once say you looked like a pig wearing a wig?¡±


    As Harry spoke, he remembered that the nickname was something he¡¯d coined back in his early years. It had always seemed fitting.


    Startled, Dudley reached behind and realized with horror that a pig tail had indeed sprouted on his rear.


    ¡°Harry Potter!¡± Dudley¡¯s face turned purple, mirroring his father Vernon¡¯s usual look of rage.


    Humiliated, Dudley lunged at Harry with arms outstretched. Harry quickly pulled out his wand and cast a small jinx.


    ¡°What did you do to me?¡± Dudley shrieked as his body began dancing uncontrollably.


    ¡°Tarantellegra¡ªa little dancing spell,¡± Harry explained, watching Dudley flail helplessly. Resting an arm on Hedwig¡¯s cage, he chuckled. ¡°Hedwig, if you¡¯ve never seen a pig dance, now¡¯s your chance.¡±


    ¡°Woo-woo!¡± Hedwig hooted in response.


    ¡°Stop it! Make it stop!¡± Dudley wailed in panic. ¡°Mum! Dad! Help!¡±


    His cries brought results. The Dursleys, abandoning their discussion, rushed out of the house.


    ¡°Duddykins!¡± Aunt Petunia cried, trying to grab hold of Dudley. Her thin frame, however, was no match for her son¡¯s involuntary movements.


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    Uncle Vernon charged at Harry, his face flushed with fury. ¡°What did you do to my son?!¡±


    ¡°Helping him lose weight,¡± Harry said casually, shrugging.


    Vernon¡¯s beady eyes narrowed, his hand raised as if to strike, but he hesitated, glancing nervously around before his expression softened slightly, as if relieved.


    Was he checking to see if Hagrid was nearby? Harry wondered.


    But he¡¯d guessed wrong. Vernon finally said, ¡°Stop your nonsense this instant! Get inside!¡±


    ¡°What about my luggage?¡± Harry pointed at the pile beside him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll carry it in!¡± Vernon barked angrily.


    ¡°Thank you, Uncle Vernon.¡± Harry gave a mock bow and flicked his fingers toward Dudley, stopping the spell. The pig tail vanished as well.


    Vernon, looking as if he¡¯d just swallowed a live insect, grabbed the heaviest of Harry¡¯s bags and hurried inside without a backward glance.


    ¡°Dudley,¡± Harry called as Dudley tried to follow. ¡°Carry this one for me.¡±


    Though the bag was small, Harry found immense satisfaction in ordering Dudley around. Sniffling, Dudley reluctantly grabbed the bag and shuffled inside.


    Once inside, Harry instinctively moved toward the cupboard under the stairs, but Vernon stopped him.


    ¡°Your room¡¯s upstairs now,¡± Vernon said gruffly. ¡°Your aunt and I decided you¡¯re too old for the cupboard. You¡¯ll have Dudley¡¯s second bedroom.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask why!¡± Vernon roared.


    Harry knew the room well. Despite being called Dudley¡¯s second bedroom, it was mostly a storage space for things Dudley no longer wanted. For years, Harry had dreamed of moving into it.


    Dudley, however, reacted as if the world had ended.


    ¡°No! That¡¯s my room! He can¡¯t have it! Mum! Dad! Make him leave!¡± he bawled.


    ¡°Do you want to keep dancing, Duddy?¡± Petunia hissed, unusually stern.


    For the first time, Harry heard her use such a harsh tone with her precious son.


    ¡°Listen, boy,¡± Vernon growled, grabbing Harry¡¯s collar. ¡°I don¡¯t care what tricks you¡¯ve learned, and I¡¯m not asking you to be grateful for all we¡¯ve done raising you. Just don¡¯t let the neighbors find out we¡¯ve got a freak in the family. Understand?¡±


    Harry understood. What Vernon feared most was the neighbors discovering their ¡°freak¡± secret.


    ¡°One thousand pounds,¡± Harry said, unfazed by being grabbed. After all, underage wizards weren¡¯t allowed to use magic outside school.


    Vernon took a deep breath. ¡°Five hundred.¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡± Harry extended his hand.


    Releasing Harry¡¯s collar, Vernon reluctantly shook hands to seal the deal.


    Inspired, Dudley chimed in, ¡°If I¡¯m giving up my room, I want a thousand pounds too!¡±


    Exhausted, Vernon countered, ¡°Five hundred.¡±


    Dudley looked at Harry, who suggested, ¡°Ask for half again.¡±


    ¡°Seven-fifty,¡± Dudley said confidently.


    ¡°Deal!¡± Vernon agreed hastily.


    Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.


    ------


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 Chapter 10: He Still Has to Thank Me

    Uncle Vernon was very trustworthy¡ªor perhaps he was just afraid that breaking his promise might lead the neighbors to discover that they had a freak living in their house. So, the 500 pounds were delivered to Harry''s room that very night.


    "Boy, you''d better keep your word!" Uncle Vernon said, his face full of displeasure.


    "Rest assured," Harry replied with a sincere smile.


    Keeping promises.


    For 500 pounds, Harry was willing to play along.


    Lying in bed, Harry felt a sense of unreality.


    Just yesterday, he had been at Hogwarts, chatting with Sebastian about his sister¡¯s illness.


    He remembered that Veratia had said they¡¯d found some leads.


    Harry wondered how Anne¡¯s condition was now. He thought to himself that he should find an opportunity to visit the Sallow family.


    Wizards were long-lived, and it had only been over a hundred years. If nothing unexpected happened, the Sallow siblings should still be alive.


    Harry trusted Sebastian, one of his best friends. After all, he was the man who trusted him enough to teach him the three Unforgivable Curses.


    But for now, Harry thought it best to keep a low profile before the school term started.


    As Harry was deep in thought, the door suddenly opened.


    Without looking up, he could tell it was Dudley who had entered.


    Knowing it was Dudley, Harry didn¡¯t bother to open his eyes. He continued resting, curious to see what Dudley wanted.


    Unexpectedly, Dudley just sat on the floor beside him with a thud.


    After a while, Harry heard the sound of muffled sobbing.


    Picking up his wand, Harry lit the tip, illuminating Dudley¡¯s rather large, tear-streaked face.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Harry¡¯s heart softened, and he asked gently.


    The response was louder sobbing, though Dudley tried to suppress the sound¡ªHarry knew all too well that if Dudley cried openly, it would be as deafening as a Mandrake.


    ¡°Stop crying. If Uncle Vernon comes over, he¡¯ll accuse me of using magic to bully you again,¡± Harry said helplessly.


    ¡°But¡­ but this is my room¡­¡± Dudley said through his tears.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Uncle Vernon buy it for 250 pounds?¡± Harry countered.


    Hearing this, Dudley choked up, unable to respond.


    Shaking his head, Harry suddenly had an idea.


    He pulled out a box of Chocolate Frogs from the cabinet and handed it to Dudley.


    ¡°Here, it¡¯s a magical snack. I bet you¡¯ve never had one.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Dudley¡¯s interest was piqued at the mention of food. His tears stopped, and he forgot all about the room.


    ¡°Chocolate Frogs. Inside, there are collectible cards that are popular among young wizards,¡± Harry explained. ¡°The cards feature famous wizards.¡±


    ¡°Wizards?¡± Dudley opened the box and saw what looked like a real frog, leaving him stunned. ¡°This¡­ this isn¡¯t a real frog, is it?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. It¡¯s made of chocolate and enchanted,¡± Harry replied with a smile, not mentioning that the Chocolate Frog could jump.


    To Harry¡¯s surprise, as soon as the Chocolate Frog jumped, Dudley caught it with lightning speed and stuffed it into his mouth.


    When it came to food, Dudley always displayed extraordinary agility.


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    ¡°Hmm, delicious!¡± Dudley said with a big grin, savoring the treat while pulling out the card inside.


    It featured an elderly man with a kind smile.


    ¡°The back has information,¡± Harry prompted.


    The name on the card was Paracelsus.


    Following Harry¡¯s suggestion, Dudley turned the card over and read the description aloud:


    ¡°Paracelsus (1493¨C1541), a wizard of the same era as Copernicus and Leonardo da Vinci, was a medical genius. His bold theories challenged medieval thinking and led to the discovery of Parseltongue¡­ Wow.¡±


    After reading, Dudley flipped the card back over.


    ¡°He¡¯s gone!¡± Dudley exclaimed.


    ¡°You can¡¯t expect him to stay there all the time. He¡¯ll come back later,¡± Harry explained. ¡°Would you like some other magical snacks? I have plenty more.¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡±


    Dudley nodded enthusiastically, his chubby cheeks jiggling.


    As for the moving card, Dudley didn¡¯t dwell on it. In fact, he didn¡¯t care. He was more interested in eating a few more Chocolate Frogs.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the deal: I¡¯ll give you snacks, but you have to help me with something.¡±


    Harry picked up a stack of Chocolate Frogs, and Dudley¡¯s gaze remained glued to them.


    ¡°Just tell me what to do,¡± Dudley said, still fixated on the Chocolate Frogs.


    Then, he belatedly took out 250 pounds from his pocket and placed it on Harry¡¯s desk.


    After some thought, he withdrew four 50-pound notes.


    ¡°Here, this should be enough to buy your snacks. You¡¯ll probably need some pocket money for school, right? This is all yours.¡±


    Even fifty pounds was a substantial amount.


    Harry knew that Gringotts exchanged pounds for Galleons at a five-to-one ratio. These pounds were enough to exchange for ten Galleons, which could buy not just the snacks but twice as much again.


    Though this wasn¡¯t the gold standard era of Victorian times, the purchasing power of pounds was still impressive.


    ¡°These are magical snacks, Dudley,¡± Harry said with a raised eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t think fifty pounds is enough to buy these, do you?¡±


    Dudley nodded earnestly, convinced by Harry¡¯s words.


    After all, moving Chocolate Frogs were a rarity. His remote-controlled car, which could move, had cost 49.99 pounds. A Chocolate Frog that could move and be eaten was clearly worth more.


    Dudley cheerfully handed over the 200 pounds to Harry and said, ¡°Take it all. If it¡¯s not enough¡ª¡±


    ¡°No need, just take them all,¡± Harry said indifferently, pocketing the 250 pounds.


    Dudley cheered and thanked Harry, saying, ¡°Thanks, Harry, you¡¯re such a good person.¡±


    Harry shrugged.


    See? He¡¯s even thanking me.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d hold a grudge against me for bullying you before and try to get revenge,¡± Dudley said while stuffing the Chocolate Frogs into his pockets.


    ¡°Oh, right, I almost forgot about that,¡± Harry said, grabbing a pillow.


    Noticing Harry¡¯s movement, Dudley instinctively gulped.


    ¡°What are you going to do?!¡±


    Harry¡¯s answer was a pillow attack right to Dudley¡¯s face.


    ------


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 Chapter 11: The start of school

    The pillow fight carried a playful element, so Dudley didn¡¯t call for help, simply letting Harry give him a good beating with the pillow.


    For some reason, after that night, Dudley became Harry¡¯s follower.


    In the month leading up to the start of school, Dudley treated Harry as if he were a completely different person.


    Only Harry knew the truth: part of it was that Dudley was somewhat afraid of his magic, but the bigger reason was Harry¡¯s promise to bring him some magical snacks the next time he returned home.


    Seeing Dudley¡¯s chubby figure, Harry thought it might be necessary to give him some weight-loss potions.


    The ¡ê750 Harry had obtained from the Dursleys was spent entirely on Muggle snacks, with a particular focus on Coca-Cola.


    Who knew how much he had longed for a sip of the fizzy drink during the Victorian era?


    Given the purchasing power of the pound, Harry took the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley once again and bought a suitcase with an Undetectable Extension Charm.


    He packed all the Muggle snacks into the suitcase and, seeing there was still space left, stuffed in his books and clothes as well.


    This suitcase cost him thirty Galleons.


    As the saying goes, you get what you pay for, and Harry was very satisfied with the suitcase.


    A month flew by, and soon it was time for school to begin.


    Since Dudley was also starting at Smeltings Academy, the Dursleys drove to London to drop him off.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always been curious¡ªwhere did you get wizard money?¡± Uncle Vernon suddenly asked as they drove.


    ¡°It¡¯s the inheritance my parents left me, stored in Gringotts,¡± Harry replied.


    The car screeched to a sudden halt, nearly causing Harry to hit the seat in front of him.


    Through the rearview mirror hanging in the car, Harry saw Uncle Vernon¡¯s face darken.


    Was he upset about not being paid for raising him? Harry wondered, then blurted out, ¡°I know I have money now. I can pay for all the years you¡¯ve looked after me¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just like your father, Potter!¡± Uncle Vernon turned his fat body around in his seat, glaring at Harry. ¡°He was arrogant and conceited¡ª¡±


    ¡°My father wasn¡¯t conceited, and neither am I. If you don¡¯t mind, could you pull over?¡± Harry interrupted, defending his father.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Uncle Vernon snorted coldly and pulled the car to the side of the road.


    Turning to Harry again, he yelled, ¡°Listen, boy! I don¡¯t care how much pure gold you have stored in that blasted Gringotts! I love Petunia¡ªI love her more than anything! If it weren¡¯t for her, do you think I¡¯d have let a freak like you into my house?¡±


    ¡°You know about Gringotts?¡± Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, realizing Uncle Vernon had reacted so strongly because of its mention.


    Uncle Vernon¡¯s face turned purple again, his mustache trembling as he roared, ¡°Gringotts? Of course, I know Gringotts! When I met your father in a restaurant, Petunia told me he didn¡¯t have a job. I even considered offering him a position at my company, despite his lack of recognized qualifications! I even thought of funding him, but your father¡ª¡±


    ¡°Vernon! Oh my, Vernon!¡± Aunt Petunia, seated in the front passenger seat, clutched her collar as if she couldn¡¯t catch her breath.


    ¡°Like father, like son! The station is here. You can get out!¡± Uncle Vernon fumed.


    Harry looked up and saw that they had indeed arrived at King¡¯s Cross Station.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Harry said with a smile to the Dursleys, then turned to Dudley. ¡°I¡¯ll be off now.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget your promise,¡± Dudley mouthed silently.


    Harry nodded, retrieved his suitcase from the trunk, extended its handle, and walked away.


    That was the grudge of the previous generation and had nothing to do with him. No need for mental gymnastics over it.


    ¡°Nine and three-quarters¡­¡± Harry muttered as he walked into the station, dragging his suitcase.


    Since it wasn¡¯t his first time entering the platform, Harry wasn¡¯t in a hurry. He leisurely strolled with his suitcase, calm and relaxed, waiting until the red-haired family in front of him entered before stepping onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters himself.


    The smoke from the steam engine swirled above the crowd. Cats of various colors darted around people¡¯s feet, accompanied by the cacophony of chatter and the occasional hoot of owls, creating a symphony of back-to-school excitement.


    It was very wizardly and had a distinct magical atmosphere.


    Since it was close to departure time, the first few compartments were already crowded with students. Some leaned out of the windows to chat with their families, others were playing games, and some quietly snacked on treats in their seats.


    Harry even spotted a chocolate frog leaping out of an open window, much to the dismay of its owner.


    In one of the rear compartments, Harry found an empty space. After storing his suitcase, he encountered a pair of identical red-haired twins.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ Harry Potter?¡± the one on the left asked, his face lighting up with excitement.


    Before Harry could answer, a woman¡¯s voice called from outside.


    ¡°Fred, George, are you on the train?¡±


    ¡°Coming, Mum!¡± The twins hastily said goodbye to Harry and ran off.


    Harry leaned against the seat, gazing absentmindedly at the crowd outside.


    He could still hear the twins¡¯ mother scolding them: ¡°That poor boy isn¡¯t a zoo animal for you to gawk at!¡ªFred, George!¡±


    As her voice faded, Harry lost interest in eavesdropping, settling into a comfortable position on the seat.


    Meanwhile, the twins¡¯ mother continued to reprimand them on the platform.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you asking him about his scar! Don¡¯t make him think of that on his first day! All the wizards celebrated the day he got that scar and defeated You-Know-Who, but for him, it was the day he lost his parents¡ªoh, the poor child¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright, don¡¯t get mad,¡± said one of the twins. ¡°We get it.¡±


    The whistle blew.


    ¡°Alright, children, time to say goodbye,¡± the woman said with a smile, kissing each child on the forehead. ¡°Get on the train, Ronny dear¡ªand you two, don¡¯t make me receive another complaint from a professor about your pranks!¡±


    The last remark was directed at the twins.


    ------


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 Chapter 12: Ron

    The train rumbled to life, beginning the journey to Hogwarts.


    ¡°Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?¡±


    Harry looked toward the door, where a red-haired boy with freckles on his face stood nervously.


    ¡°No one,¡± Harry replied.


    The boy thanked him, put his luggage away, and sat across from Harry. He looked nonchalant as he gazed out at the scenery, but he kept sneaking glances at Harry.


    Harry thought, This red hair must mean he¡¯s from that family.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Harry greeted him first. ¡°I¡¯m Harry Potter.¡±


    ¡°Ronald Weasley, but you can call me Ron,¡± the boy said, reaching out his hand in a manner that made him seem older than he was.


    Weasley?


    Harry¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he quickly asked, ¡°Weasley? You said your last name is Weasley?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Ron replied, a little confused.


    Shouldn¡¯t I be the one asking the questions? he thought. Asking about the famous savior and his incredible deeds? Why is the savior asking me instead...


    But Harry¡¯s mind was elsewhere, recalling Professor Matilda Weasley, the kind Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House who had taken good care of him back in school, as well as his good friend Gareth Weasley.


    The two fell into silence for a moment before Ron decided to break it.


    ¡°So, are you really...¡±


    He hesitated, remembering his mother¡¯s advice, and swallowed back the question about Harry¡¯s scar.


    ¡°Really what?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°Did you really live with Muggles?¡± Ron asked awkwardly, changing the subject. ¡°I heard that somewhere. Is it true?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Harry nodded. ¡°I live with my aunt and uncle. They¡¯re all Muggles.¡±


    ¡°What are they like?¡± Ron asked.


    ¡°Not great¡ªthey¡¯re very against magic,¡± Harry shrugged, then added wistfully, ¡°I wish I had two brothers, though.¡±


    ¡°If you did, you¡¯d know how annoying they are,¡± Ron shuddered at the thought. ¡°And it¡¯s not two¡ªit¡¯s five. I have five older brothers and a little sister.¡±


    ¡°Wow...¡± Harry said, genuinely impressed.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A big, lively family like that had always been his dream.


    He had always wished for a few Potter siblings who would stand up for him when he was being bullied.


    But Ron didn¡¯t look too happy. ¡°I¡¯m the sixth in my family to go to Hogwarts. At home, Mum always expects me to follow in their footsteps¡ªmy oldest brother, Bill, was Head Boy; my second brother, Charlie, was Quidditch Captain; my third brother, Percy, just became a prefect; and Fred and George, even though they¡¯re always goofing around, are brilliant and everyone thinks they¡¯re so cool.¡±


    ¡°So you feel a lot of pressure,¡± Harry nodded understandingly. ¡°Because your family expects you to live up to them.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ron said irritably. ¡°When you¡¯ve got five older brothers, you never get anything new. I wear Bill¡¯s old robes, use Charlie¡¯s old wand, and I¡¯ve even got Percy¡¯s hand-me-down rat.¡±


    As he spoke, he pulled out a fat, sleeping rat from his pocket.


    ¡°Look, this is Scabbers,¡± Ron said helplessly. ¡°He¡¯s really old and sleeps all the time. Percy got an owl as a reward for becoming a prefect, so he gave me this leftover rat.¡±


    Ron realized he¡¯d been talking too much, so he clammed up and looked out the window.


    He didn¡¯t want his new friend to think poorly of him because of all this.


    ¡°Look, Ron,¡± Harry said, holding up his own clothes. ¡°These are my cousin Dudley¡¯s hand-me-downs. Look how baggy they are¡ªlike maternity clothes. Ever since I can remember, I¡¯ve been wearing his old clothes. I¡¯ve never had anything new. You see, Dudley¡¯s the same age as me, but he¡¯s huge, and I¡¯m small, so I fit into his castoffs perfectly...¡±


    There¡¯s nothing quite like shared experiences to bring people closer.


    Harry¡¯s words made Ron feel less unlucky. He could tell Harry wasn¡¯t just being polite¡ªhe really understood his situation.


    Sharing embarrassing stories helped the two bond quickly.


    As they talked, the train sped out of London.


    At the same time, there was a clattering noise in the corridor.


    A smiling woman with dimples slid the compartment door open and asked, ¡°Anything from the trolley, dears?¡±


    It was lunchtime. The train had departed promptly at eleven, and Harry, having angered Uncle Vernon earlier, hadn¡¯t had time to eat breakfast.


    He was starving.


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve got sandwiches, thanks,¡± Ron said quietly, lowering his head.


    Harry stood up and stepped into the corridor. ¡°I¡¯ll take some of everything, thanks.¡±


    Even though he¡¯d attended school for six years a century ago, he was still just sixteen at heart¡ªa kid.


    His resistance to snacks was there, but not very strong.


    The trolley lady handed him one of everything. When Harry paid, he gave her a Galleon, three Sickles, and four Knuts.


    Carrying his haul of treats back to the compartment, Harry noticed Ron staring at the snacks with wide, unblinking eyes.


    Harry knew his new friend was tempted.


    ¡°You¡¯re really hungry,¡± Ron said definitively.


    ¡°Yeah, starving,¡± Harry replied, pulling out a pumpkin pasty and handing it to Ron.


    ¡°No, mate,¡± Ron said, pulling out a sandwich from a paper bag. ¡°Mum packed me sandwiches for the train... though she always forgets I hate corned beef.¡±


    ¡°Trade me for one. Go on, take it,¡± Harry offered the pasty.


    ¡°You won¡¯t like it,¡± Ron said, sniffing. ¡°She¡¯s got five kids to take care of¡ªshe doesn¡¯t have time¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Harry said with a smile.


    He finally convinced Ron to take the pasty. After one bite, Ron didn¡¯t touch his sandwich again. Harry tactfully didn¡¯t mention the sandwiches either, leaving his own untouched on the table.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Harry said, biting into a cauldron cake. Then he pulled out a box of Chocolate Frogs.


    ¡°You even got Chocolate Frogs?¡± Ron asked in surprise.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Harry replied, opening the box. ¡°I bought some in Diagon Alley before. They come with cards, though I¡¯m not really interested in those. The frogs themselves are pretty good.¡±


    ¡°Do me a favor, mate,¡± Ron said quickly. ¡°If you get Agrippa or Ptolemy, save them for me, yeah?¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± Harry agreed, flipping through the card.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s Dumbledore!¡± he said softly.


    ------


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 Chapter 13: Grindelwald

    "Dumbledore?" Harry repeated.


    Ron, thinking Harry didn''t know who Dumbledore was, said, "Don''t tell me you don¡¯t know Dumbledore, mate. He¡¯s only the greatest wizard in the world."


    "Is that so?" Harry replied absentmindedly.


    "Check the back of the card," Ron suggested, pulling it from Harry¡¯s hand. "I''ll read it to you."


    "Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster of Hogwarts, is widely recognized as the greatest wizard of our time," Ron began.


    "Dumbledore is known for his numerous achievements, including defeating the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, discovering the twelve uses of dragon¡¯s blood, and his collaboration with Nicolas Flamel in alchemy¡ª"


    Harry interrupted suddenly at the mention of a familiar name, "Who?"


    "Nicolas Flamel," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "His partner. You know him?"


    "No, I meant the one before that. Who did he defeat?" Harry clarified.


    "The Dark Wizard, Grindelwald," Ron replied.


    That name sent Harry¡¯s thoughts spiraling back a century to his fifth year.


    "Hey, mate," Gareth, Harry¡¯s dormmate, nudged him with his elbow. "Did you hear? We¡¯re getting a new student this year."


    "Really?" Harry asked indifferently, picking up his water goblet.


    "Yeah, heard it from my aunt¡ªshe¡¯s the deputy headmistress, so she always knows before us. But the feast has started, and they¡¯re still not here."


    As Gareth finished speaking, the Great Hall doors swung open dramatically.


    Harry turned to see a disheveled Professor Figo accompanied by a stunning girl who looked almost ethereal.


    Her golden hair shimmered even more brightly than Malfoy¡¯s, Harry thought.


    Sensing his gaze, the girl looked at Harry and smiled sweetly.


    That smile felt like moonlight pouring over his heart, catching him completely off guard. He choked on his drink and clumsily wiped his mouth with his robe, managing only to return an awkward grin.


    "Snap out of it, mate," Gareth teased, elbowing Harry again. "You¡¯re practically glued to her. Look at Malfoy¡¯s face¡ªshe¡¯s probably planning to mock you later."


    Harry snapped out of it, glancing at the Slytherin table. Cassandra Malfoy was glaring at him with utter disdain.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    When the Sorting Hat called out, "Slytherin!" the Hall erupted in applause.


    Before Harry knew it, the girl was standing beside him, to Gareth¡¯s evident envy.


    "Hello. May I sit here?" she asked.


    "Of course! Please do," Harry stammered, hurriedly pushing Gareth aside to make room. Ignoring his friend¡¯s wounded look, the girl took the seat next to Harry.


    And that was how Harry met Veratia, who would become one of his closest friends.


    Harry shook himself out of the memory. No matter what Ron said, he couldn¡¯t believe Veratia had become a Dark Wizard.


    "How could she be a Dark Wizard?" Harry muttered.


    Ron, chewing a candy, glanced at him. "She? Oh no, mate, Grindelwald was a bloke. His name¡¯s... oh yeah, Gellert Grindelwald. Heard his relationship with Dumbledore was pretty complicated."


    "Oh." Harry sighed with relief.


    He then recalled¡ªah, Gellert.


    He¡¯d met Gellert during a Christmas visit to Veratia¡¯s family in Austria-Hungary. Back then, Gellert had been an eight-year-old boy with a temper as fiery as his sunflower-yellow hair.


    That kid? A Dark Wizard?


    Dark wizard or not, Harry couldn¡¯t help but remember how pinchable Gellert¡¯s cheeks had been.


    "Mate, you really need to catch up on wizarding history," Ron sighed. "You¡¯re the Chosen One! You can¡¯t keep being this clueless."


    "You¡¯re right," Harry agreed earnestly.


    At that moment, the compartment door slid open again.


    A pudgy boy with tear-filled eyes asked timidly, "Sorry to bother you, but have you seen my toad?"


    Both Harry and Ron shook their heads. The boy burst into tears.


    "It keeps running away from me! I¡¯ve lost it again¡­"


    "Take it easy," Ron offered. "Maybe it¡¯ll turn up soon."


    The boy didn¡¯t respond and bolted out of the compartment, still crying.


    "If I had a toad, I¡¯d have chucked it ages ago," Ron muttered. "I just don¡¯t see the appeal. Thank Merlin I¡¯ve got Scabbers. Sure, he¡¯s old and lazy, sleeps like the dead, but he¡¯s been with me for years. Honestly, I kind of like him. Don¡¯t judge!"


    Harry was taken aback by Ron¡¯s peculiar fondness for his rat but decided not to judge. Everyone had their quirks.


    However, he was firm about one thing¡ªHedwig was never allowed on his bed.


    "Yesterday, Fred and George taught me a spell to turn Scabbers yellow. Wanna see?" Ron said, pulling out an old, battered wand. "Look, even the unicorn hair¡¯s poking out. But it¡¯ll work."


    "Charlie¡¯s wand, right?" Harry asked.


    "Yeah, Charlie¡¯s old wand," Ron replied reluctantly.


    Harry recalled Ollivander¡¯s words: "The wand chooses the wizard." He wondered how well Charlie¡¯s wand would work for Ron.


    Before he could voice his concern, the door opened yet again.


    "Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one."


    Harry recognized the voice instantly and looked up excitedly. "Hermione?"


    "Oh, Harry!" Hermione beamed. "I was just looking for you. But then I saw Neville crying and thought I¡¯d help. Are you practicing magic? I tried some spells at home¡ªdidn¡¯t go well, though. Can I see what you¡¯re doing?"


    Her rapid-fire speech left Ron gaping. He had never met anyone who talked so fast.


    Hermione, unfazed, plopped down beside Harry, who handed her a bag of Bertie Bott¡¯s Every Flavor Beans.


    Clearing his throat, Ron waved his wand theatrically. "Alright, watch this. Daisies, cream, sunshine¡ªturn this rat yellow!"


    Nothing happened.


    "Are you sure that¡¯s a spell?" Hermione asked skeptically.


    Ron sheepishly lowered his wand, realizing Fred and George had pranked him again.


    Hermione turned to Harry. "What about you, Harry? Can you¡ª"


    "You said that boy¡¯s name was Neville?" Harry interrupted.


    "Yes, Neville," Hermione replied.


    Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the door. "Neville¡¯s toad, come here!"


    Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She couldn¡¯t believe she was stuck with two boys who were equally clueless about magic.


    "Do you really think that¡¯s going to work?" she asked incredulously.


    ------


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 Chapter 14: How did Slytherin become like this?

    "Wait," Harry said, not rebutting Hermione.


    As soon as he spoke, a toad flew in through the door, landing accurately in front of him.


    "Look, is this the toad you''re looking for?" Harry asked.


    Hermione widened her eyes in disbelief, staring at Harry. The Summoning Charm was supposed to be a fourth-year spell, something she had only noticed while casually reading yesterday.


    "That''s incredible!" Ron sat upright in amazement, exclaiming, "Mate, you truly deserve the title of ''The Boy Who Lived!''"


    The hesitation Hermione had just felt vanished in an instant. Of course, he was the savior of the wizarding world, after all.


    "I''ll go return the toad to Neville; he''s probably worried sick," Hermione said, picking up the toad. "Thanks, Harry. I''ll come back after dropping it off; I have so many spells I want to ask you about..."


    Without waiting for Harry''s response, Hermione left the compartment with the toad.


    "She''s terrifying, isn''t she?" Ron muttered with lingering fear as he watched the door. For some reason, every time he saw Hermione, he felt like he couldn''t look her in the eye.


    Harry shrugged. Back when he was pestering Sebastian to learn dueling, he was far more persistent than Hermione.


    "No matter which house I''m sorted into, I hope it''s not the same one as hers," Ron continued. "Merlin, she reminds me of Percy¡ªexcept she''s even... more."


    He tossed his wand into his trunk, muttering, "That spell¡¯s useless, just another one of George¡¯s pranks¡ªbe careful around those two when you get to school. Don¡¯t trust anything they say, and definitely don¡¯t eat anything they give you. I mean it; you''ll regret it."


    Harry nodded knowingly. If they could even prank their innocent little brother, those twins probably had a special talent for mischief.


    "Which house are they in?" Harry asked, already guessing it might be Gryffindor.


    Sure enough, Ron replied, "Gryffindor. Mum and Dad were both in that house, and all five of my brothers too. If I don''t get into Gryffindor, I can only imagine what they¡¯d say about me. I mean, Ravenclaw wouldn¡¯t be bad, but please, just not Slytherin¡ª"


    "Why not?" Harry asked curiously.


    "Because Slytherin¡¯s full of dark wizards," Ron said matter-of-factly.


    Harry raised an eyebrow. While it was true that Slytherin students didn¡¯t shy away from studying dark magic, the statement seemed a bit harsh.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Could the inter-house rivalries have deepened this much over the past century?


    "Why do you think that?" Harry asked, wondering if something had changed over the years.


    "Because You-Know-Who was from Slytherin," Ron mumbled. "And after him, almost all the Slytherins became his followers. You know what kind of person he was; anyone who followed him couldn''t be good¡ªjust a bunch of dark wizards who don¡¯t care about life."


    Harry sighed.


    Damn it, Slytherin, how did it come to this?


    "Oh, I¡¯m back," Hermione¡¯s voice rang out from the doorway. "I couldn¡¯t find Neville after looking everywhere, so I just left the toad on his desk. What were you talking about?"


    "Houses," Ron forced a smile.


    Noticing Ron''s unease, Hermione asked with concern, "What''s wrong? Are you okay?"


    "I¡¯m just wondering what¡¯ll happen if I don¡¯t get into Gryffindor," Ron said, resting his chin on his hands. "Fred and George told me that first-years have to pass an entrance test to be sorted. Their year had to face a troll in groups of ten."


    "But didn¡¯t you say¡ª" Harry caught the contradiction. "Not to believe a word they say?"


    "That¡¯s true, but I asked Dad, and he said the same thing," Ron said, his face growing more distressed. "But he said their test wasn¡¯t as bad¡ªonly five of them had to deal with a giant spider. One unlucky kid got bitten and spent a month in the hospital wing..."


    At that moment, a haughty voice came from the doorway.


    "So, it¡¯s true? Harry Potter is on this train?"


    The three of them looked toward the door. Standing there was a slender boy with pale blond hair slicked back, trying to appear more mature. His gray eyes were cold and proud.


    Blond hair and a pompous air¡ªHarry recognized him immediately. Another Malfoy.


    Two boys stood behind him, one tall and burly, the other short and pudgy¡ªclearly henchmen.


    "This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," the Malfoy introduced his companions. "I¡¯m Draco. Draco Malfoy..."


    Ron stifled a cough to keep from laughing.


    "You think my name is funny, do you?" Draco sneered at Ron. "I don¡¯t need to ask who you are. Red hair, shabby clothes¡ªyou must be a Weasley. My father says the Weasleys have more children than they can afford."


    Turning to Harry, he added, "You¡¯ll find some wizarding families are much better than others. You wouldn¡¯t want to make friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."


    He extended his hand toward Harry.


    Harry, who thought of himself as patient, found his temper flaring at Draco''s arrogant demeanor. This Malfoy reminded him of Cassandra, but at least Cassandra had manners. She would never insult someone¡¯s family or launch into personal attacks.


    This Malfoy had no such restraint.


    "I think you owe him an apology," Harry said coldly. "Kids from decent families don¡¯t insult other people¡¯s homes."


    "I think Harry¡¯s right," Hermione said firmly, stepping up beside Harry and Ron.


    Ron¡¯s eyes reddened. He hadn¡¯t expected these two new acquaintances to stand up for him like this.


    "And who are you?" Draco asked, frowning at Hermione.


    "Hermione Granger," she replied proudly.


    Draco¡¯s sneer deepened.


    "A filthy little Mudblood. You stink¡ª"


    "Shut up!" Ron leapt to his feet, pointing his wand at Draco. "How dare you say that word!"


    Draco looked back at his companions with a smug grin. "Oh, defending your little girlfriend, Weasley? Are you sure you¡¯re ready to deal with the consequences of cursing me? My father¡¯s on the school board. He could get your father fired in a heartbeat. What would your family do then, huh?"


    The response came swiftly.


    "Leviosa!"


    A yellow light hit Draco, lifting him into the air. His head bumped against the doorframe.


    The caster wasn¡¯t Ron, or Hermione.


    ------


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 Chapter 15: Educate you on behalf of your ancestors

    "Well done, Harry," Ron exclaimed enthusiastically.


    Draco, still floating mid-air, came to his senses and yelled in anger, "Put me down, Potter!"


    Harry didn¡¯t budge, prompting Draco to turn toward his henchmen. "Crabbe! Goyle! What are you waiting for? Help me!"


    The two hulking boys snapped out of their stupor and began lumbering forward, ready to rescue their leader.


    Without hesitation, Ron leapt forward, trying to intercept them despite the obvious size difference. Unfortunately, Goyle shoved him back effortlessly, causing Ron to stumble and land on the seat.


    "What a fool," Hermione muttered with exasperation. She pulled out her wand and aimed it at Crabbe and Goyle.


    "Petrificus Totalus!"


    Caught off guard, both boys were hit by the Full Body-Bind Curse. They toppled to the floor with two loud thuds.


    "Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed in admiration, clearly impressed that the Muggle-born witch had saved the day with a single spell.


    "Full Body-Bind Curse. The Standard Book of Spells, Chapter Six," Hermione recited mechanically, still holding her wand at the ready.


    Her posture betrayed her internal struggle. She knew the severity of her actions¡ªcasting spells on fellow students, especially the son of a Hogwarts governor, before even arriving at school. She had read the rules thoroughly and knew the potential consequences.


    They might expel me, she thought sadly, but she did not regret stepping in. While she didn''t fully understand the slur Draco had used, she knew enough to recognize its intent to insult and degrade.


    Ron had stood up for her; it was only right to return the favor.


    "You filthy little Mudblood! How dare you?" Draco snarled, still suspended in the air. "I''ll tell my father! You''ll all be expelled!"


    "And besides your father, what else do you rely on?" Harry asked dryly, walking closer. "You''re a pure-blood wizard, yet you''ve just been outmatched by a couple of Muggle-borns. Quite embarrassing, don''t you think?"


    He flicked his wand, causing Draco to drop unceremoniously to the floor. Standing over him, Harry locked eyes with the boy''s frightened gray gaze.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    For a fleeting moment, Harry was reminded of another pair of proud, defiant gray eyes¡ªCassandra¡¯s. He thought back to his own humiliating defeat at her hands during his first duel at the Wand Combat Club.


    "Is this your idea of effort?" Cassandra had once sneered at him. "Pathetic."


    Without realizing it, Harry let the words slip from his lips. "Is this what you call superior? Pathetic."


    The remark was satisfying. While he bore no grudge against Cassandra, giving Draco Malfoy a taste of his own medicine felt like poetic justice.


    Infuriated, Draco scrambled to his feet and pulled out his wand, but Harry was faster.


    "Expelliarmus!"


    Draco''s wand flew from his grasp, arcing through the air before landing neatly in Harry''s hand.


    "Relax, Malfoy," Harry said, tucking the wand into Draco''s trembling hands. "I¡¯m just teaching you a lesson¡ªfor your ancestors¡¯ sake."


    "Cool," Ron said with a wide grin.


    Draco, however, wasn¡¯t nearly as amused. Anger and humiliation bubbled over as tears welled in his eyes. "I... I¡¯ll tell my father!" he sniffled.


    Feeling bored with the exchange, Harry stepped back and gestured for Draco to leave.


    "Alright, Drama-co, stop your solo performance," Harry said mockingly. "Your dad isn¡¯t here to save you, so take your cronies and get out of my compartment."


    Sniffling and stumbling, Draco gathered Crabbe and Goyle and stormed out of the compartment. He turned back once to yell, "You¡¯ll regret this! All three of you will be expelled!"


    As the door slammed shut, Hermione¡¯s face fell.


    "Now we¡¯re really in trouble," she fretted, running a hand through her frizzy hair. "We¡¯re definitely getting expelled."


    "Then why¡¯d you fight him?" Ron asked.


    "If someone else had learned more than two spells, I wouldn¡¯t have had to step in," Hermione snapped back.


    Ron flushed and looked away, unable to argue with the truth.


    "Don¡¯t worry," Harry reassured her. "We won¡¯t get expelled for something so minor. Besides, Malfoy started it. That word he used is seriously offensive."


    "I still don¡¯t know what it means," Hermione admitted. "But it was clear enough that it was disgusting¡ªjust like the person who said it."


    "It¡¯s one of the worst insults," Ron explained grimly. "¡®Mudblood¡¯ is what some pure-bloods call Muggle-borns. It means dirty or inferior blood, like you¡¯re worth no more than mud."


    Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "Well... thank you, Ron. For sticking up for me."


    "Uh... you¡¯re welcome," Ron stammered, waving his hand awkwardly.


    "By the way," Hermione said, pointing to Ron¡¯s face, "you¡¯ve got a smudge right here."


    Ron wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Oh, that must¡¯ve been what Fred was talking about earlier. I thought he was joking."


    Harry and Hermione exchanged amused looks.


    Soon, the train whistle blew, and a voice echoed through the carriage:


    "Five minutes until we arrive at Hogwarts. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school for you."


    As they changed into their robes, Harry noticed Ron¡¯s were slightly too short, exposing his worn-out sneakers. The sight reminded Harry of his own hand-me-down clothes from the Dursleys.


    "Come on, mate, let¡¯s get going," Ron said, grinning. After fighting together, their bond had deepened.


    And in Harry¡¯s mind, their trio already included Hermione, too.


    ------


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 Chapter 16: Punishment

    The September nights in the Scottish Highlands were biting cold. As soon as Harry stepped off the train, a gust of chilly wind hit him square in the face, penetrating his bones.


    "So cold," Ron said through chattering teeth.


    "First-years, this way!" a familiar voice called out. "Come on over¡ªoh, Harry, I see you! How are you doing?"


    "It''s Hagrid," Harry told Ron, waving high above his head. "Hagrid, I''m over here!"


    Hagrid''s towering figure was unmistakable. He waved back warmly and called out to the children, "Any more first-years? Come along, I''ll take you all to the school."


    This wasn''t Harry''s first time down this path. It was muddy and slippery, full of thorns¡ªa trail said to have been walked by the founders of Hogwarts when they first established the school. It was meant to remind new students of the founders'' hardships in building such a legacy.


    A lesson in appreciating the past, so to speak.


    "Just around this bend, and you''ll see Hogwarts," Hagrid called out. "Ahead is the lake¡ªwe''ll be taking boats across. Four to a boat, got it? You can figure out your groups now."


    Harry grabbed Ron''s arm. As he glanced back, Hermione appeared beside them with a small, chubby boy clutching a toad in his arms.


    "Harry, Ron, this is Neville," Hermione introduced them. Then she turned to Neville, saying, "This is Harry¡ªhe''s the one who found your toad."


    "Thank you, Mr. Potter," Neville said shyly, his voice trembling with gratitude.


    "No problem. Just call me Harry," Harry replied warmly, his smile radiant.


    Neville felt as if Harry were a little sun, dispelling his fear and even the cold that seemed to cling to him.


    "Shall we? The four of us in a boat?" Ron suggested, slinging an arm around Harry¡¯s shoulders and addressing Hermione and Neville.


    "Sounds good," Hermione agreed, though she muttered under her breath, "I just hope we don''t get expelled..."


    "Relax, Hermione. We only used the Levitation Charm in Drama Studies. It¡¯s not like we cast..."


    Harry trailed off, realizing that mentioning the Killing Curse might not be the best idea.


    "Cast what?" Neville asked, puzzled.


    "Alohomora," Harry quickly said, changing the subject. "Come on, let''s keep up. We need to get on the boats."Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    None of them seemed suspicious¡ªafter all, at their age, they couldn¡¯t possibly know what the Killing Curse was.


    The temperature on the lake was even colder than when they¡¯d first stepped off the train, likely due to the damp air. The young witches and wizards huddled into their robes, trying to shield themselves from the biting chill.


    Only when their boats reached the shore did they feel even a hint of relief.


    Hagrid led them to the gates of the castle.


    "Wait here," he said. "It won¡¯t be long before¡ª"


    Before he could finish, the massive doors swung open, revealing a stern-looking witch dressed in emerald green robes.


    It was Professor McGonagall.


    "All the first-years are here, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.


    McGonagall nodded. "I¡¯ll take them from here, Hagrid. I¡¯ll lead them into the castle."


    Hagrid waved at Harry before turning to leave.


    "First-years, follow me," McGonagall instructed.


    The new students followed her into the castle, eventually arriving in a small chamber.


    "Welcome to Hogwarts," she began. "The feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must first be sorted into your respective houses. The sorting is an important ceremony because your house will be your home at Hogwarts. You¡¯ll attend classes, sleep in the dormitories, and spend your free time in the common rooms with your housemates.


    "The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has a proud history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. During your time at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will bring glory to your house."


    "In a few moments, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the entire school. I suggest you take this time to tidy yourselves up and look presentable."


    Her gaze lingered briefly on Neville¡¯s cloak before sweeping over Harry, Ron, and Hermione.


    "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, please come with me," she said. Then her eyes landed on Draco Malfoy. "And Mr. Malfoy as well."


    Hermione¡¯s knees buckled.


    "Oh no, Harry, oh no..." she whimpered tearfully. "We¡¯re going to be expelled..."


    Draco overheard Hermione''s sobs and let out a derisive laugh.


    Harry glanced over and saw Draco silently mouthing the word "Mudblood" at Hermione.


    That brat really needs a lesson, Harry thought. But first, he needed to figure out how to handle this situation.


    "Hermione, don¡¯t worry," Ron tried to comfort her. "Even if we get expelled, you¡¯ll still have me and Harry by your side."


    Hermione only cried harder at that.


    The four were soon led into a small room.


    Inside, four individuals were seated. Harry immediately recognized one of them¡ªDumbledore, whom he had seen on a Chocolate Frog card. To Dumbledore''s left was a short man in formal attire with a bowtie, sitting next to a plump witch dressed simply, with a few green leaves adorning her robes.


    On Dumbledore''s right sat a wizard with greasy black hair and a hooked nose.


    The hook-nosed man¡¯s eyes locked onto Harry, a flash of recognition followed by a cold, emotionless stare. Harry instinctively felt that this man didn¡¯t like him.


    Did I offend him somehow? Harry wondered.


    "The matter is quite clear," the man spoke first. "Mr. Potter cast a curse on a fellow student aboard the train, with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley as his accomplices¡ª"


    Hermione let out a loud, despairing sob.


    "Take it easy, Severus," Dumbledore interjected, his half-moon spectacles glinting as he looked at Harry with a smile. "Why don¡¯t we hear from Harry and his friends? It wouldn¡¯t be fair to judge based on one side of the story."


    ------


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 Chapter 17: Youre a Nice Person

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    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    Snape cast Harry a long, penetrating look before silently consenting to Dumbledore''s suggestion.


    Since no one raised objections, Dumbledore began, "It''s not uncommon for disagreements to arise on the Hogwarts Express. I¡¯ve heard Draco''s side of the story, but I¡¯d like to hear from you three about what happened."


    "But... Malfoy was on the train the whole time! How did he...?" Ron''s face flushed red, utterly dumbfounded by Draco¡¯s tactic of reporting first.


    With a smug grin, Draco pulled out a mirror from his pocket.


    "A two-way mirror. Father gave it to me before school started," he said, shaking the mirror with an air of superiority. "You see, Weasley, some wizarding families just have it better. My father makes sure I have the very best¡ª"


    ¡°Mr. Malfoy?¡± Professor McGonagall¡¯s stern voice cut through his boast. ¡°Please stick to the topic at hand.¡±


    Draco hesitated but then raised his eyebrows in a mocking challenge directed at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.


    Harry, however, had spent the walk to the office carefully plotting a way to turn the tables on Malfoy.


    He was already aware of Malfoy¡¯s familial influence¡ªhis father was a Hogwarts governor, after all. That kind of leverage could easily jeopardize the position of three unprotected students. Yet, McGonagall had a reputation for fairness, and Harry decided to appeal to that.


    He also knew she was the Head of Gryffindor, the house where both his parents had once belonged. Their legacy, as student leaders, suggested they¡¯d been her pride and joy.


    The other professors¡¯ roles were also fairly clear. The stout witch with leaves on her robes was likely the Hufflepuff Head of House, while the greasy-haired man glaring at him had to be the Slytherin Head of House.


    Harry wasn¡¯t expecting much sympathy from Snape, but he was determined to win over the rest.


    "Professor," Harry began, his voice steady.


    "Go ahead, Harry," Dumbledore said, his twinkling eyes offering reassurance.


    McGonagall also nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, Harry continued, "I''m sorry, but on the train, we didn¡¯t want to engage with Malfoy. It¡¯s just that when he found out Hermione was from a Muggle family, he... called her a name.¡±


    McGonagall¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°What name?¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Harry hesitated, feigning reluctance. Finally, he mumbled, ¡°Mudblood, Professor. I didn¡¯t know what it meant at first, but my aunt once told me about my mum crying at home during a holiday. Someone at school called her a... stinky little...¡±


    "Is that true, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall demanded sharply.


    The commanding tone of a teacher confronting a misbehaving student left Draco visibly cowed. He hung his head and muttered, ¡°Yes.¡±


    Harry felt some relief, but as his eyes darted to Snape, he caught the professor staring at him.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Snape¡¯s voice was ice-cold.


    Harry braced himself for an onslaught of bias in Malfoy¡¯s favor. After all, Snape was Slytherin¡¯s Head of House¡ªit seemed only natural he would defend his student.


    But instead, Snape turned to Draco with a steely gaze.


    ¡°Mr. Malfoy, is this what you consider pure-blood decorum? Perhaps your parents, Lucius and Narcissa, should be called in to see what kind of son they¡¯ve raised¡ª¡±


    Snape¡¯s words faltered briefly, but then he pressed on, his face a mask of indifference.


    ¡°Your house will lose twenty points after the Sorting Ceremony.¡±


    Harry¡¯s eyes widened in astonishment. He¡¯d assumed Snape would be adversarial, but here he was, reprimanding Draco and docking points from his own house.


    Cold on the outside, warm on the inside. Classic Slytherin, Harry mused.


    Ron was equally dumbfounded, his jaw practically on the floor. He¡¯d heard countless tales from his brothers about Snape¡¯s favoritism toward Slytherin. Even Percy, the model student, had claimed Snape never deducted points from his house.


    What was going on today?


    McGonagall, though, looked entirely unsurprised. She fixed Draco with a severe glare.


    ¡°Since Professor Snape has dealt with your behavior, I won¡¯t add further punishment,¡± she said firmly. ¡°But understand this, Mr. Malfoy: such language is absolutely forbidden at Hogwarts.¡±


    Draco stared at the floor, utterly deflated.


    ¡°Now, Mr. Potter,¡± McGonagall continued, turning to Harry, ¡°standing up for a friend is commendable, but we don¡¯t encourage the use of hexes on other students.¡±


    Got it.


    Harry immediately understood the subtext: don¡¯t get caught.


    ¡°Yes, Professor,¡± Harry replied earnestly. He bowed respectfully to the assembled professors. ¡°We¡¯re sorry for causing trouble on the first day.¡±


    "Very well, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, a faint smile breaking her stern demeanor. ¡°You may return to the Great Hall with your friends. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.¡±


    Harry led the still-stunned Hermione and Ron out of the room, each of them bidding the professors goodbye as they left.


    ¡°What a polite child,¡± McGonagall said, folding her hands together. ¡°He truly reminds me of Lily.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Minerva,¡± Dumbledore agreed, nodding thoughtfully as he glanced at Snape¡¯s unreadable expression. ¡°Shall we proceed? The Sorting awaits.¡±


    Back in the Great Hall, Harry and his friends were instantly surrounded by curious first-years.


    ¡°What happened? Are you all right?¡± Neville asked worriedly.


    ¡°We¡¯re fine,¡± Ron assured, puffing out his chest. ¡°The professors didn¡¯t give us a hard time. Look, we¡¯re back for the Sorting, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    He sounded completely carefree, despite having been terrified about expulsion only moments earlier.


    ¡°You think this is over, Weasley?¡± Draco sneered from behind them. ¡°We¡¯ve got a long year ahead.¡±


    Ron bristled, but Hermione grabbed his arm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take the bait, Ron,¡± she warned. ¡°He¡¯s just trying to provoke you.¡±


    ¡°Right, you¡¯re right.¡± With Hermione¡¯s advice sinking in, Ron managed to restrain himself. For now.


    ------


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 Chapter 18: Did I assign you to a school?

    After Hermione''s persuasion, Ron decided to stop watching Draco and chose to ignore his provocations.


    As things settled, Ron turned his attention to talking with the others about the Sorting Ceremony.


    After worrying about whether he might be expelled, Ron''s next bout of anxiety focused on the Sorting.


    He wasn''t the only one. Soon, all the young witches and wizards from pureblood families began to feel the same anxiety. Even Draco, usually so smug, turned pale.


    "My father¡­ my father said that when he entered, he had to fight a werewolf¡­" Draco said.


    Hearing this, everyone¡¯s faces turned a deep shade of purple.


    The crowd buzzed for a while longer until, suddenly, the Great Hall fell silent.


    Carried by the stillness, everyone stopped talking altogether.


    Professor McGonagall walked to the front, gently placing a four-legged stool before the first-year students.


    On top of the stool, she placed a pointed wizard''s hat, patched, old, and very worn.


    Harry recognized it¡ªit was the very same Sorting Hat used when he had first come to Hogwarts.


    The hat twitched, and the brim split open, revealing a wide gap like a mouth¡ª


    It began to sing.


    Sorting Hat''s Song


    "You may think I''m not much to look at,


    But don¡¯t judge a book by its cover, my friend.


    If you can find a hat more charming than me,


    I¡¯ll happily eat myself in the end.


    Your top hats may shine with an ebony gleam,


    Your tall silk hats may stand up so neat,


    But I am the magical Sorting Hat,


    And my skill can¡¯t be beat.


    Hidden in your mind are thoughts and dreams,


    None can escape my sharp insight.


    Place me on your head and take a chance¡ª


    I¡¯ll guide you to where your future is bright.


    Perhaps you''ll belong in brave Gryffindor,


    Where dwell the daring and the bold.


    Their nerve and chivalry set them apart,


    Their legends forever told.


    Or maybe in kind Hufflepuff,


    Where honesty and loyalty stay.


    Hard work and dedication define their hearts,


    Through toil, they light the way.


    In wise old Ravenclaw, you might fit in,


    With wit, knowledge, and intellect to spare.


    They welcome all those who love to learn,


    To share the heights of wisdom there.


    Or else in cunning Slytherin,


    Where ambition and resourcefulness rule.


    They¡¯ll help you achieve your greatest desires,


    Though slyness may be their tool.


    So don¡¯t be afraid, come give it a try,


    Let me decide your fate.


    On your head, I sit with care¡ª


    Your secrets are safe, don¡¯t hesitate!


    For I am the magical Sorting Hat,


    A talking hat with a purpose grand.


    Now let the ceremony begin¡ª


    Welcome to Hogwarts¡¯ magical land!"


    The Hall erupted into applause as the Sorting Hat bowed theatrically to each of the four house tables before settling back into stillness.


    "So¡­ we just have to wear the hat?" Ron wrinkled his nose. "I''m definitely going to kill Fred and George. They told me I¡¯d have to fight a troll! The worst part is I believed them!"


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    "And your dad? Didn''t he tell you you''d be fighting a giant spider?" Harry added with a smirk.


    Ron froze. "Uh¡­ well, that¡¯s not¡­ entirely necessary."


    Harry chuckled, pleased at having teased his friend.


    Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in her hand.


    She reached out and grabbed the tip of the Sorting Hat, lifting it up.


    "Hey, don''t treat an old hat like that!" the hat grumbled. "I¡¯m old enough as it is without being manhandled!"


    The crowd laughed at the hat¡¯s humor.


    McGonagall ignored the complaints and began. "When I call your name, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await your Sorting."


    Without looking at the list, she called out, "Hannah Abbott!"


    A rosy-cheeked girl with blonde braids stumbled forward, placed the hat on her head, and sat down. After a moment of silence¡ª


    "Hufflepuff!" the hat declared.


    The table on the right applauded loudly, welcoming her to sit with them. Harry noticed the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff¡¯s house ghost, waving at her enthusiastically.


    "Susan Bones!" McGonagall announced.


    "Hufflepuff!"


    Susan quickly ran over to join Hannah.


    "Terry Boot!"


    "Ravenclaw!"


    Applause came from the second table to the left, and Terry joined a group of students who stood to shake his hand.


    "Justin Finch-Fletchley!"


    "Hufflepuff!"


    "Hermione Granger!"


    "Go on, Hermione," Ron encouraged.


    Hermione took a deep breath, ran to the stool, and hurriedly placed the hat on her head.


    "Gryffindor!"


    Ron grinned in satisfaction.


    "Neville Longbottom!"


    Neville tripped on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide, but eventually declared, "Gryffindor!"


    Neville, forgetting to return the hat, ran back to his seat with it still on his head.


    "Hey, boy, bring me back!" the hat shouted. "I¡¯m flattered you like me, but I¡¯m not a souvenir!"


    Neville turned beet red and quickly returned the hat amidst laughter.


    When Malfoy¡¯s name was called, he strutted forward confidently.


    The hat barely touched his head before it yelled, "Slytherin!"


    Malfoy joined Crabbe and Goyle, looking smug.


    Eventually, McGonagall called out, "Harry Potter!"


    The Hall buzzed with whispers.


    "Potter? Did she say Potter?"


    "Is it the Harry Potter?"


    All eyes turned to him, curious about the fate of the boy they¡¯d grown up hearing stories about.


    Harry walked forward calmly, took the hat with both hands, and thanked McGonagall, earning a small, warm smile from her.


    He placed the hat on his head, and instantly, its voice echoed in his mind.


    "Ah? Back again? Funny, I could¡¯ve sworn I¡¯d already Sorted you once¡­"


    ------


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 Chapter 19: Then Slytherin would gain a great wizard

    The old Sorting Hat¡¯s words made Harry¡¯s heart tighten.


    Uh-oh, was he discovered?


    ¡°Really?¡± Harry feigned calmness and asked, neither confirming nor denying anything.


    ¡°Yes, the Sorting Hat never makes mistakes,¡± the hat affirmed confidently. ¡°I remember you. Last time I sorted you, I even advised you to join Slytherin, but you insisted on Gryffindor.¡±


    If nothing else had happened, Harry honestly wouldn¡¯t have minded going to Slytherin.


    But when he was applying for a scholarship, he had spent a moment alone with Phineas Nigellus Black.


    Afterward, he asked Deputy Headmistress Weasley which house Headmaster Black had been in.


    Upon hearing the answer, ¡°Slytherin,¡± Harry¡¯s determination had solidified.


    Even if I drop out, I won¡¯t go to Slytherin!


    ¡°So, this time, will you still advise me to join Slytherin?¡± Harry asked in return.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t think someone daring enough to use Polyjuice Potion to impersonate the Headmaster would be a Slytherin. Oh, heavens, you should¡¯ve seen Phineas¡¯ face¡ªit was priceless,¡± the Sorting Hat said with glee. ¡°You even made the Great Hall permanently display Gryffindor¡¯s banners, though Phineas quickly revoked that order.¡±


    Suddenly, the hat seemed to realize something mid-sentence.


    ¡°Wow, time really is a magical thing. I never thought I¡¯d see you back at age eleven. But don¡¯t worry; the Sorting Hat keeps its secrets.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Harry was skeptical.


    ¡°Absolutely! Since my creation, I¡¯ve never revealed any student¡¯s secrets,¡± the hat vowed. ¡°Not even that troublesome one who gave Albus such headaches.¡±


    Harry was willing to trust the hat¡¯s professionalism. After all, if the hat leaked secrets, there wouldn¡¯t have been a Voldemort.


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    ¡°So, which house will you recommend this time?¡± Harry asked in his mind.


    ¡°No one betrays their own house, do they?¡± The hat chuckled. ¡°Without a doubt, you belong in Gryffindor.¡±


    ¡°Then what are you waiting for? Announce it. I¡¯m ready,¡± Harry said impatiently. The attention from all around made him a bit uncomfortable.


    Though the Sorting Hat communicated mentally, Harry still found it unsettling.


    ¡°This is heartbreaking, kiddo,¡± the hat complained. ¡°Old friends should catch up, but you can¡¯t wait to get rid of me. It¡¯s truly disheartening.¡±


    ¡°You have a heart?¡± Harry asked in surprise.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve changed my mind. You should go to Azkaban,¡± the hat replied with a hint of mock indignation.


    ¡°Oh, sorry, I didn¡¯t mean it that way,¡± Harry quickly apologized. He didn¡¯t want to be sent straight to Azkaban.


    Then he asked, ¡°By the way, when did this Headmaster join Hogwarts? Why don¡¯t I remember him?¡±


    ¡°The Headmaster?¡± The hat thought for a moment and then replied, ¡°If I recall correctly, he entered in your seventh year. Phineas said you were missing, so it makes sense you wouldn¡¯t know him. How does it feel to see a junior become Headmaster?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit surreal,¡± Harry admitted. ¡°But since I never met him as a kid, it doesn¡¯t feel too odd.¡±


    ¡°Ha! You should¡¯ve seen young Albus,¡± the hat said slyly.


    ¡°Oh? Which house was he in?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°Without a doubt, Gryffindor,¡± the Sorting Hat said proudly.


    Harry nodded knowingly and spent a long time reminiscing with the Sorting Hat.


    Finally, the hat, seemingly content, said, ¡°Catching up with an old friend is delightful. As a token of appreciation, the hat has prepared a special sorting ceremony for you.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Harry asked curiously.


    The hat didn¡¯t answer. Just as Harry thought it was preparing for a dramatic announcement, he felt something hard hit his head.


    He removed the hat and saw a hilt inside. Intrigued, he grasped the hilt and, with a clang, pulled out a magnificent silver sword.


    At the same time, the Sorting Hat shouted triumphantly, ¡°Without a doubt! Gryffindor!¡±


    The Great Hall fell silent. Then, after a moment, three of the four house tables erupted into thunderous applause, excluding Slytherin.


    ¡°We got Potter! We got Potter!¡± the Weasley twins stood on their seats, waving their arms in excitement.


    Harry turned to the teacher¡¯s table. Hagrid clapped enthusiastically, barely containing his excitement. Dumbledore nodded at him with a smile, offering his applause. Meanwhile, the greasy-haired professor looked as though he couldn¡¯t stand him.


    Beside him, Professor McGonagall folded her hands, clearly pleased that Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor.


    ¡°Professor, what about this?¡± Harry asked, holding the Sorting Hat in one hand and the Gryffindor sword in the other.


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle it, Mr. Potter,¡± McGonagall said as she took the items from him and approached Dumbledore to hand him the sword.


    ¡°I never expected you¡¯d arrange such a sorting ritual, Albus,¡± she whispered.


    Dumbledore looked momentarily confused. ¡°Ah?¡±


    Then he understood what she meant and replied just as softly, ¡°No, Minerva, you¡¯ll see later. The Headmaster has no authority to interfere with sorting, much less command the hat.¡±


    McGonagall gave him a doubtful look but chose to believe him.


    As Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, the Gryffindors stood up to offer their most heartfelt congratulations.


    He sat next to Hermione on his left. On his right was a boy wearing glasses who looked scholarly.


    ¡°Percy. Percy Weasley,¡± the boy introduced himself, extending a hand.


    Harry shook it, recognizing him as Ron¡¯s prefect brother.


    ¡°You¡¯re Ron brother, right?¡± Harry asked politely, recalling Ron¡¯s mention of him.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Percy said proudly.


    Just then, McGonagall called out Ron¡¯s name.


    ¡°That¡¯s my youngest brother,¡± Percy whispered to Harry.


    ¡°Gryffindor!¡± the Sorting Hat declared.


    Ron slumped into the seat Harry and Hermione had saved for him.


    ¡°Well done, Ron, well done!¡± Percy said in an exaggerated tone.


    ¡°I was so scared I¡¯d end up in Slytherin,¡± Ron admitted, still shaking off the nerves.


    Harry grinned and said, ¡°Then Slytherin would¡¯ve


    gained an exceptional wizard.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, shut it, Harry. You sound like my mum,¡± Ron retorted, rolling his eyes.


    ------


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 Chapter 20: Crazy Junior

    "I think Malfoy must feel as much pressure as I do," Ron said again. "You know, the Malfoys have always been in Slytherin."


    Harry thought for a moment and couldn¡¯t help but laugh.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Ron asked.


    ¡°Just think about it,¡± Harry said, suppressing his laughter, as he spoke to Ron and Hermione. ¡°Malfoy asking his father, ¡®Dad, what if I¡¯m not sorted into Slytherin?¡¯ Then his father would definitely pull out his wand, point it at him, and say, ¡®Draco Malfoy, you better be!¡¯¡±


    Hearing Harry¡¯s imagined scenario, the two burst into laughter.


    At that moment, the sorting ceremony came to an end.


    Albus Dumbledore stood up, his face beaming as he looked at the students. He spread his arms wide as though nothing delighted him more than seeing them all gathered together.


    ¡°Welcome!¡± he said. ¡°Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before the feast begins, I¡¯d like to say a few words¡ªand they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!¡±


    The hall burst into applause and cheers¡ªeven Harry clapped along.


    ¡°Thank you all!¡± Dumbledore sat back down.


    If it had been Headmaster Phineas Black, he would have spoken for an hour before letting them eat.


    Though this slightly eccentric new headmaster was amusing, Harry couldn¡¯t help but feel that Dumbledore was more like a quirky schoolmate than a principal.


    Hmm¡­ An eleven-year-old upperclassman and a hundred-plus-year-old junior. That was certainly a rare combination.


    As Dumbledore sat down, the four long tables immediately filled with towering piles of delicious food.


    Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, sprouts, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and even mint humbugs.


    Harry used his fork to stab a piece of steak and placed it on his plate.


    It was well-done, signifying top-quality beef¡ªhe remembered hearing that the Muggle Queen also preferred her steak well-done.


    ¡°This looks amazing,¡± said a ghost wearing a ruffled collar as he sadly watched Harry cut into the steak.


    Harry looked up at the ghost and nodded in greeting.


    ¡°Hello.¡±


    He almost addressed him as Sir Nicholas but held back.


    ¡°You look¡­ familiar,¡± said Sir Nicholas, staring at Harry with a dazed expression. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve seen you somewhere before.¡±


    Just as Harry thought Sir Nicholas was about to recognize him, the ghost suddenly clapped his hands. ¡°I¡¯ve got it! James Potter¡ªyou must be his son! You look almost exactly like him!¡±


    ¡°You knew my father?¡± Harry asked with interest.


    ¡°Of course, young Mr. Potter! James was one of Gryffindor¡¯s finest students,¡± Sir Nicholas replied with a smile.


    ¡°Oh, I remember now! You¡¯re Nearly Headless Nick!¡± Ron suddenly shouted, pointing at the ghost.


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer it if you called me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington,¡± the ghost said uneasily. But Seamus Finnigan, who had light brown hair, interjected, ¡°Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?¡±


    Sir Nicholas seemed upset¡ªhe clearly didn¡¯t want to talk about this.


    ¡°Like this,¡± he said irritably, grabbing his left ear and pulling downward. His head wobbled, sliding off his neck and onto his shoulder as if it were hinged.


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    It seemed that whoever tried to behead him hadn¡¯t done a thorough job. Watching everyone¡¯s stunned expressions, Nearly Headless Nick looked quite pleased.


    He gently popped his head back onto his neck, cleared his throat, and said, ¡°Well, Gryffindor¡¯s new students! I hope you¡¯ll help us win the House Cup this year, won¡¯t you? Gryffindor hasn¡¯t won in so long¡ªSlytherin¡¯s had a six-year winning streak! The Bloody Baron has been insufferable¡ªhe¡¯s Slytherin¡¯s house ghost.¡±


    Harry wasn¡¯t paying attention to the Bloody Baron; instead, he turned to look at the staff table.


    At that moment, his scar suddenly throbbed with intense pain.


    This was the first time his scar had hurt since seeing Sebastian cast the Killing Curse at his uncle, Solomon Sallow.


    That incident had infuriated Velatia, who restrained Sebastian with a spell and used Transfiguration to save Solomon.


    Harry hadn¡¯t forgotten the effort it took to cast Obliviate on Solomon afterward. Solomon¡¯s obnoxiousness reminded Harry too much of Headmaster Black¡ªhe couldn¡¯t let his friend end up in Azkaban.


    After a while, the pain in his scar subsided.


    He pressed his hand to his forehead, making sure no one noticed anything unusual.


    However, Ron caught on. With a chicken leg in each hand, he turned to Harry and asked, ¡°Mate, what¡¯s wrong? You look a bit pale.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Harry said with a smile. Then he asked Percy, ¡°Percy, who¡¯s that teacher?¡±


    Percy assumed he meant Snape, so he smiled and answered, ¡°That¡¯s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he¡¯d much rather teach Defense Against the Dark Arts¡ªeveryone knows he¡¯s got a knack for it.¡±


    Harry wasn¡¯t asking about Snape. He¡¯d already locked eyes with Snape in the hut earlier, and his scar hadn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°No, not Professor Snape,¡± Harry clarified. ¡°I mean the one next to him, wearing a turban and talking to someone.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s Professor Quirrell,¡± Percy replied. ¡°He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. He used to teach Muggle Studies, but for some reason, he switched subjects. Snape was furious about it¡ªhe¡¯s been taking it out on Gryffindor ever since.¡±


    ¡°Why would Snape being upset lead to Gryffindor losing points?¡± Harry asked, unable to connect the dots.


    ¡°Because Snape doesn¡¯t like Gryffindor¡ªthat¡¯s no secret,¡± Percy said with a shrug. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because he¡¯s the head of Slytherin? You know, Slytherin and Gryffindor have always been at odds.¡±


    Harry didn¡¯t argue. He wasn¡¯t sure about the current dynamics, but a century ago¡­


    With Headmaster Black in charge, relations between Gryffindor and Slytherin had been quite cordial.


    Harry glanced at Snape again and found that Snape was also staring at him.


    His gaze seemed complex. Harry wondered, Could he have been close to my parents?


    With that thought, Harry gave Snape a polite smile.


    But Snape merely huffed, his face expressionless, and looked away.


    ------


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 Chapter 21: Peeves Discovery

    Harry didn''t really care about Snape''s reaction. After all, in his understanding, all Slytherins were full of contradictions. Take Ominis, for example, a textbook case of cold on the outside but warm on the inside. In contrast, Sebastian was warm on the outside but cold on the inside.


    And as the old serpent king of Slytherin, Snape was naturally the most contradictory of them all¡ªmakes sense, right?


    Food. He lowered his head and looked at the delicious meal in front of him again.


    It had been noon when he snacked on the train, and he was already quite hungry by now.


    After finishing the steak on his plate, the food on the dining table in front of him transformed into an array of sweet desserts.


    The British couldn''t live without afternoon tea and post-meal desserts, just like the 3D zone couldn''t live without Tifa.


    If forced to choose between the two, afternoon tea would undoubtedly be more important.


    Disappeared. Eventually, even the desserts on the table vanished.


    Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and the dining hall fell silent.


    ¡°Oh, now that everyone is full and satisfied, I have a few announcements to make as we begin the new term," he said.


    ¡°First-year students, please note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to students¡ªand some of our older students would do well to remember that as well.¡±


    Dumbledore''s twinkling eyes, visible through his half-moon spectacles, swept toward the Weasley twins.


    The message was clear: by ¡°older students,¡± he specifically meant those two troublemakers.


    The Gryffindors joined the headmaster in focusing their gaze on the Weasley twins.


    After all, most of the points lost by Gryffindor were thanks to those two.


    ¡°Additionally, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind everyone not to cast spells in the corridors between classes.¡±


    Filch, holding his red-eyed cat, stood not far away and gave a loud snort at Dumbledore¡¯s words.


    ¡°Furthermore, Quidditch tryouts will be held during the second week of term. Those interested in joining their House teams should contact Madam Hooch, the Flying Instructor.¡±


    ¡°Lastly, I must warn you that anyone who does not wish to meet a gruesome and painful death should avoid the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor.¡±


    Harry couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at that¡ªhe couldn¡¯t hold it in.


    To be honest, there wasn¡¯t a place in Hogwarts he hadn¡¯t been to. Even the Slytherin common room was a spot he¡¯d once visited with Veratia, though the process wasn¡¯t exactly enjoyable.Stolen story; please report.


    Percy. ¡°He¡¯s not serious, is he?¡± Harry whispered.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Percy frowned and muttered, ¡°What¡¯s odd is that whenever he prohibits us from going somewhere, he usually explains why. For example, everyone knows the Forbidden Forest is full of dangerous creatures¡ªI think he should at least tell us Prefects more clearly.¡±


    ¡°Obviously, Headmaster Dumbledore has his little secrets,¡± Harry said softly to Percy. ¡°The kind he doesn¡¯t want anyone else to know.¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± Percy nodded knowingly.


    ¡°Now, before we all retire for the night, let us sing the school song together!¡± Dumbledore said loudly. Harry noticed that the other teachers¡¯ smiles seemed to freeze on their faces.


    Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, and a long golden ribbon flew out, twisting like a serpent above the high table as it formed lines of text.


    ¡°Everyone pick their favorite tune,¡± Dumbledore said. ¡°Ready¡ªsing!¡±


    And so the entire student body and staff broke into song:


    ¡°Hogwarts, Hogwarts¡­¡±


    Since the song had no set tune, everyone sang in whatever style they liked, completely ignoring whether they were in sync.


    The Great Hall became an even greater mess than Knockturn Alley, and Harry instantly understood why the professors wore such expressions.


    He remembered what the Sorting Hat had said¡ªthat Dumbledore joined the school the year after Phineas Nigellus Black¡¯s tenure as headmaster. This meant he too had suffered under Phineas.


    Perhaps this chaotic singing tradition was Dumbledore¡¯s revenge for enduring Phineas¡¯s annual choir rehearsals. Harry thought, though he swore he¡¯d rather endure rehearsals with a single tune under Phineas than suffer this.


    In the end, only the Weasley twins were still singing along, following the somber melody of the ¡°Funeral March.¡±


    Dumbledore conducted their final verses with his wand, clapping the loudest when they finished.


    ¡°Ah, music,¡± he said, pointing to his eyes, ¡°a magic beyond all we do here! And now, it¡¯s time for bed. Off you go!¡±


    The Prefects stepped forward, leading the new students of each House. Hufflepuff¡¯s Gabriel Truman, Ravenclaw¡¯s Penelope Clearwater, Slytherin¡¯s Gemma Farley, and Gryffindor¡¯s Percy Weasley guided their charges toward their respective common rooms.


    As the Slytherin and Gryffindor groups passed each other, Harry noticed Malfoy looking particularly dejected.


    It must¡¯ve been because of the twenty points preemptively docked from him. Even in Slytherin, the Malfoy name didn¡¯t grant absolute immunity.


    Not even if his surname were Gaunt.


    Gemma Farley, a stunning Slytherin prefect, looked particularly displeased. She seemed annoyed about Malfoy losing points from their head of house.


    For Snape, usually biased in favor of his house, to deduct points, Malfoy must¡¯ve done something seriously wrong.


    ¡°Harry, did you see that?¡± Ron nudged Harry. ¡°Look at Malfoy¡¯s face¡ªit¡¯s like he just ate something foul!¡±


    ¡°He deserved it,¡± Harry said gleefully.


    They hadn¡¯t walked much further when the group suddenly came to a halt.


    Floating in mid-air ahead of them was a bundle of sticks. Percy was just one step away from bumping into it.


    Those behind him stopped in time, afraid of colliding, creating a domino effect.


    ¡°It¡¯s Peeves,¡± Percy whispered to the first-years. ¡°A mischievous ghost.¡±


    Raising his voice, he added, ¡°Peeves¡ªshow yourself!¡±


    The response was a loud, shrill, balloon-like squeal.


    ¡°Do I need to fetch the Bloody Baron?¡± Percy threatened.


    With a loud pop, a mischievous, clownish ghost appeared, dressed in brightly colored clothes and wearing a tall hat. One look at him, and it was clear he wasn¡¯t someone to mess with.


    Contrary to Percy¡¯s expectations, Peeves didn¡¯t immediately cause trouble. Instead, he seemed to notice something interesting among the new students.


    ¡°Peeves! They¡¯re just first-years! If you play pranks on them, I¡¯ll fetch the Bloody Baron right now¡ª¡±


    Percy¡¯s threat had no effect. Peeves zipped up and down and eventually hovered over Harry¡¯s head.


    ¡°The great Peeves seems to have spotted an old friend¡ª"


    ------


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 Chapter 22: Heart-wrenching!

    Peeves wasn¡¯t a good spirit¡ªHarry had known that for quite some time. This ghost delighted in mischief, especially in going against others.


    ¡°Familiar face? You have no acquaintances here!¡± Percy retorted angrily. ¡°They¡¯re just first-years¡ª¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Peeves floated leisurely over to Harry, his eyes glinting with mischief. ¡°Potter, not going to greet an old friend?¡±


    ¡°Peeves!¡± Percy barked in warning. ¡°Harry is just a first-year student. Don¡¯t bother him!¡±


    ¡°A first-year?¡± Peeves cackled as if Percy had told the funniest joke. Holding his stomach, he doubled over in midair with laughter. ¡°Oh, I could never forget that face¡ªPotter¡­¡±


    ¡°You must¡¯ve known my father, James,¡± Harry said casually, pulling out his wand.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think spells will work on Peeves, do you?¡± Percy asked in surprise. ¡°Honestly, people have been trying to find a spell to deal with Peeves for years, but as you can see¡ªso far, no success.¡±


    To Percy¡¯s astonishment, Peeves screamed and bolted the moment Harry pointed his wand at him.


    ¡°Maybe it does work,¡± Harry shrugged.


    Percy opened his mouth, suddenly finding the atmosphere a bit awkward.


    ¡°Maybe he had other things to do,¡± Percy offered weakly. ¡°Anyway, if you encounter Peeves again, don¡¯t provoke him. Honestly, you should be on your guard around him.¡±


    He led the group forward. ¡°Don¡¯t try Harry¡¯s method. I recommend invoking the Bloody Baron¡¯s name to scare him off. The Bloody Baron is the only one who can keep him in line; Peeves doesn¡¯t even listen to us prefects. Oh¡ªhere we are.¡±


    At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a plump woman dressed in pink.


    ¡°Password?¡± she asked in a smooth voice.


    ¡°Dragon dung,¡± Percy replied.


    The portrait swung forward to reveal a circular hole in the wall.


    One by one, they crawled through. Neville struggled a bit, requiring some help to squeeze through.


    On the other side of the hole, they found themselves in the Gryffindor common room. It was a cozy circular room filled with plush armchairs. Gold and red decor adorned the walls, showcasing Gryffindor¡¯s signature colors.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Percy began assigning rooms. ¡°Those whose names I call will be sharing a room: Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Seamus Finnigan.¡±


    The four of them exchanged glances but didn¡¯t raise any objections.


    After dividing the boys'' and girls¡¯ dormitories, Percy added a stern reminder: ¡°School rules strictly forbid boys from entering the girls¡¯ dormitory.¡±


    ¡°What about girls in the boys¡¯ dormitory?¡± Seamus called out. ¡°No rule about that?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, no,¡± Percy admitted reluctantly.


    Fred and George chimed in from the back, ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? It¡¯s at your own risk!¡±


    Percy responded by smacking them with a book, sending the twins laughing and scampering away from the common room.


    ¡°Let¡¯s head upstairs,¡± Neville suggested, still clutching his toad.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid you¡¯ll overheat it?¡± Seamus teased. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding that thing all day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more afraid of losing him,¡± Neville admitted. ¡°I searched for him all over the train earlier. Oh¡ª¡±


    In their dormitory, Neville safely tucked his toad away, while Seamus began sharing his story.


    ¡°I¡¯m half-and-half,¡± Seamus said, swinging one leg over the bed. ¡°Dad¡¯s a Muggle, and Mum only told him she was a witch after they got married¡ªscared the life out of him.¡±


    The others laughed. Harry rubbed his eyes. ¡°Muggles not believing in magic isn¡¯t surprising. My uncle, for example, is completely against it. Even if I performed magic in front of him, he¡¯d refuse to accept it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s lying to himself,¡± Seamus remarked, crossing his arms. ¡°What about you, Neville?¡±


    ¡°I was raised by my gran,¡± Neville said, looking a bit downcast. ¡°She¡¯s a witch, and my parents were both wizards. But they¡¯re¡­ sick. They¡¯ve been in St. Mungo¡¯s as long as I can remember.¡±


    ¡°My family thought I was a Squib for years,¡± Neville added. ¡°My great-uncle Algie was always trying to force me to show signs of magic¡ªonce, he even pushed me off the Black Lake dock. Nearly drowned me, and nothing happened.¡±


    ¡°Then, when I was eight, he dangled me out a window by my ankle. He let go to grab some cake my aunt offered, and I bounced¡ªflew across the garden and landed on the road. Everyone was overjoyed. Aunt Enid even cried from happiness.¡±


    ¡°When my Hogwarts letter arrived, you should¡¯ve seen their faces! They thought I didn¡¯t have enough magic to get in. Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me this toad.¡±


    Neville spilled his tales like beans from a jar, and after hearing them, Harry began to suspect that maybe the wizarding world hadn¡¯t come to rescue him sooner because of stories like Neville¡¯s.


    Look at Neville¡ªhis own great-uncle had tossed him into a lake and dropped him from a window!


    ¡°What illness do your parents have?¡± Seamus asked gently.


    ¡°They were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse,¡± Neville said quietly. ¡°They never woke up.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Neville,¡± Seamus said, clearly not expecting to stumble upon such a sad truth.


    The Cruciatus Curse.


    Harry had learned it before, even used it with Sebastian. On Ominis too.


    The memory of using such a curse wasn¡¯t pleasant¡ªit tortured not just the victim but the caster¡¯s soul as well.


    ¡°Ah, I just remembered!¡± Ron suddenly exclaimed, then stopped himself, realizing naming Neville¡¯s parents would only cause more pain. He quickly changed the topic, saying to Harry, ¡°Harry, I think you¡¯ve got some snacks in your bag¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Harry said, glad for the distraction. He pulled his suitcase out from under his bed. ¡°I brought some Muggle snacks. Want to try them?¡±


    He needed the diversion just as much as Ron did¡ªmemories of the Cruciatus Curse weren¡¯t ones he enjoyed revisiting.


    ------


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 Chapter 23: Animagus

    ¡°Muggle snacks?¡± Ron perked up immediately.


    When it came to eating, Ronald had never lost in his life.


    Only Crabbe and Goyle from Slytherin could surpass him in this regard.


    ¡°Try this.¡± Harry pulled out a red soda can and handed it to Ron.


    ¡°Wow, it¡¯s Coke,¡± Seamus exclaimed in surprise. ¡°It¡¯s Coca-Cola, not Pepsi!¡±


    ¡°You like Pepsi?¡± Harry raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Oh, no, no. How could I like that dishwater?¡± Seamus said with a disgusted expression.


    Harry extended his hand solemnly. Seamus, seeing this, also extended his hand and shook Harry''s.


    ¡°In that case, we¡¯re good friends now.¡±


    ¡°Friends!¡± Seamus nodded emphatically in agreement.


    The rivalry between Pepsi and Coke was no less intense than the battle between sweet and salty flavors.


    ¡°Is this a drink?¡± Ron curiously examined the can in his hand, pulled the tab, and poured the Coke into a cup.


    He stared at the fizzing bubbles, hesitating. ¡°Yikes, this color¡ªis it really drinkable? I mean, I¡¯ve never had anything better than butterbeer.¡±


    ¡°Just try it,¡± Seamus urged.


    Ron picked up the cup, and the potion-like dark color made him hesitate. The bubbling liquid didn¡¯t help either.


    ¡°I have to ask, is this stuff really not some kind of potion?¡±


    ¡°Take a sip,¡± Harry said.


    With his friend¡¯s encouragement, Ron put on a brave face. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp.


    ¡°Wow¡ª¡± he exclaimed.


    ¡°So, how is it? Pretty good, right?¡± Harry raised an eyebrow. ¡°How does it compare to butterbeer?¡±


    ¡°Butterbeer?¡± Ron took another big gulp of Coke. ¡°What¡¯s that? Doesn¡¯t ring a bell.¡±


    Hearing this, everyone burst into laughter.


    Harry then brought out a pile of snacks to share with his new friends. It was their first time meeting, and for most of them, their first day at Hogwarts (except Harry). No one felt like sleeping. They chatted until late into the night before bidding each other goodnight and falling asleep.


    The next morning, when Harry stepped out of the dormitory, he noticed a trail of whispers following him.


    ¡°That¡¯s the one with glasses. Did you see his scar?¡± people murmured.


    Students from other houses even queued up outside the Gryffindor common room, treating him like a rare exhibit at a zoo. Wherever he went, they followed, whispering behind him with zero regard for boundaries.


    Harry didn¡¯t mind. He figured they¡¯d stop once they got used to his presence.


    For the new students, the staircases of Hogwarts were their biggest headache. There were a total of 142 staircases.


    Some were wide and grand; others narrow and wobbly. Some changed destinations every Friday. Others had steps that vanished halfway up, requiring one to remember where to jump.


    There were also countless doors¡ªsome that wouldn¡¯t open unless asked politely, others that required you to press a specific spot. Some weren¡¯t doors at all but solid walls pretending to be doors.


    Remembering the layout was nearly impossible, as everything seemed to keep moving.


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    Even the portraits moved around, visiting each other and having lively conversations.


    Harry, however, was unfazed. After all, he¡¯d been here for six years. Returning to Hogwarts felt like coming home.


    A century ago, he had no home¡ªjust like now. If there was a place that gave him a sense of belonging, it was Hogwarts.


    Ron, on the other hand, marveled at his friend¡¯s sense of direction. After Harry mentioned he had an excellent sense of direction, Ron accepted it without question.


    But the moving staircases weren¡¯t the hardest part for new students. The ghosts were.


    Often, just as a student was about to open a door, a ghost would pop out, giving them a fright.


    Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to guide Gryffindor first-years, but encountering Peeves the poltergeist was far worse than a locked door or a tricky staircase.


    Peeves would drop wastebaskets on your head, yank carpets out from under your feet, throw chalk at you, or sneak up behind you to grab your nose and scream, ¡°Got your nose!¡±


    Some first-years were so tormented by Peeves that they burst into tears, worried they¡¯d be late for class.


    Strangely, Peeves never bothered Harry and didn¡¯t even appear in his vicinity.


    Ron stuck close to Harry, so much so that he forgot about Peeves entirely.


    Since first-years were still adapting to the school, their schedules were light, leaving them plenty of time to explore Hogwarts.


    When Harry received the timetable, he couldn¡¯t help but think how times had changed. In Phineas Nigellus Black¡¯s era as headmaster, students wouldn¡¯t have any free time.


    ¡°All of you, go learn proper manners! You uncivilized trolls!¡±


    When Harry and Ron arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, only a few students were seated.


    It seemed no one had woken up early. Harry thought they might have stayed up late, just like he and Ron had.


    On the podium at the front of the room sat a silver-gray tabby cat.


    When Harry and Ron entered, the cat¡¯s tail twitched, and its eyes narrowed into slits.


    ¡°Wow, it looks like Professor McGonagall brought her cat to class?¡± Ron grinned and walked forward, seemingly intending to pet the cat. ¡°I bet she plans to use it as a teaching aid.¡±


    Harry quickly grabbed Ron¡¯s arm, sensing something wasn¡¯t right. The markings around the cat¡¯s eyes resembled a pair of square glasses.


    He knew those glasses well¡ªthe stern Gryffindor Head of House wore them. Could this cat¡­ No, wait. Was Professor McGonagall an Animagus?


    The more Harry thought about it, the more likely it seemed. He whispered to Ron, ¡°Sit down, Ron. Even if it¡¯s a teaching aid, I doubt Professor McGonagall would want anyone touching her cat.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Ron quickly followed Harry to a seat. He recalled Professor McGonagall¡¯s stern expression and imagined her angry.


    ¡°Hiss¡­¡± He took a sharp breath, his imagination of an angry McGonagall thoroughly scaring him.


    ------


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 Chapter 24: Blue and White Bowl

    Harry was quite familiar with Animagi, especially since there were several among the Ash Serpent faction. They often transformed into wolves or big cats, such as tigers and leopards¡ªforms that were both aggressive and agile.


    The downside of becoming a beast, however, was that it allowed Harry to cast ancient magic on them without any psychological burden. His favorite spell involved shrinking the animal down and then stomping on it with a swift and final stomp. While it wasn¡¯t the most sanitary approach, it was undoubtedly stress-relieving.


    For reasons Harry couldn¡¯t fathom, the Ash Serpent followers would always scream in terror upon witnessing this magic. Was it because they didn¡¯t like it?


    Before long, the classroom began to fill up with students arriving one after another. Perhaps due to observing that no one dared approach the cat, the new students only observed curiously from afar, not one of them brave enough to step closer.


    Once everyone was seated, the cat leaped forward. In a flash, it transformed into Professor McGonagall, who now stood before them in her emerald green robes.


    ¡°That was amazing!¡± Ron instinctively exclaimed.


    ¡°Thank you for your compliment, Mr. Weasley,¡± Professor McGonagall responded.


    This extraordinary introduction immediately captured the young wizards¡¯ interest. They all straightened up in their seats, eagerly anticipating the start of their Transfiguration lesson.


    "Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you¡¯ll learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began. "Anyone caught misbehaving in my class will be asked to leave and will never return¡ªI¡¯m warning you now."


    "I¡¯ll bet, Harry," Ron whispered, "she was thinking of Fred and George when she said that."


    Professor McGonagall shot a stern glance at Ron before proceeding to transform her desk into a pig and then swiftly back again.


    The students were enthralled, wishing they could start practicing such magic right away. However, they quickly realized that turning furniture into animals was a skill that would take a long time to master. For now, they had to settle for taking down a mountain of intricate notes before being handed a matchstick and instructed to transform it into a needle.


    For Harry, this task was a breeze. With a flick of his wand, he transformed the matchstick into a needle adorned with elegant patterns.


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s amazing!¡± Ron exclaimed instinctively.


    "Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall¡¯s stern voice interrupted. "No talking during class!"


    "But, Professor," Ron argued, "Harry just turned his matchstick into a needle in one go..."


    Hearing this, Professor McGonagall approached and examined Harry¡¯s work. Sure enough, it was a perfectly transformed needle.


    "Excellent transfiguration," she praised. "Five points to Gryffindor for Mr. Potter."


    The class erupted into applause, partly because of Harry¡¯s skill and partly because Gryffindor had earned points¡ªa rare occurrence, as even the first years understood how easy it was to lose points and how difficult it was to earn them back.


    Harry, however, remained composed, gracefully thanking Professor McGonagall. If I couldn¡¯t manage this after six years, I might as well quit, he mused.


    McGonagall allowed herself a rare smile as she looked at Harry¡¯s green eyes, which reminded her so much of his mother.


    By the end of the lesson, only Hermione had managed to produce any noticeable changes in her matchstick. While her transformation was commendable, it earned Gryffindor just two points¡ªa significant achievement but still overshadowed by Harry¡¯s performance.


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    As the class ended, Hermione hurried over, inserting herself between Harry and Ron.


    ¡°Harry, how on earth did you do that?¡± she asked, her rapid-fire speech making her excitement clear. ¡°The professor just explained, and you immediately turned your matchstick into a needle!¡±


    ¡°Well, Harry is the Chosen One,¡± Seamus said from behind them. ¡°You didn¡¯t really think the Chosen One would be ordinary, did you?¡±


    Oddly enough, Seamus¡¯s logic was enough to convince Hermione. After all, if Harry weren¡¯t special, how could so many books have been written about him?


    The group made their way to the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table.


    ¡°Harry,¡± Neville asked hesitantly, ¡°how did you do it? Can you teach me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not too difficult,¡± Harry replied, draining his goblet of juice and drawing his wand. ¡°Take this cup as an example. If I wanted to turn it into a bowl, I¡¯d start by picturing the bowl clearly in my mind. Then...¡±


    As Harry spoke, the goblet transformed into a beautiful blue-and-white porcelain bowl.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Neville gasped, eagerly pulling out his wand. He aimed at his cup, and with a flash of light from the wand tip, it managed to swell slightly in the middle.


    ¡°That¡¯s a great start, Neville!¡± Harry praised. ¡°Getting the object to begin transforming is a solid foundation. Just remember, the stronger your intent, the better the result... Oh, nice work, Ron!¡±


    To Harry¡¯s left, Ron had successfully turned his cup into a stemmed bowl. Considering he was working with a wand that didn¡¯t suit him perfectly, it was an impressive feat.


    Harry thought to himself that a new wand would make an excellent Christmas gift for his best friend.


    Ron beamed at the compliment but also looked a bit frustrated. ¡°I was trying to make a regular bowl, but this is the best I can manage.¡±


    ¡°Believe in yourself,¡± Harry encouraged. ¡°Faith in your abilities is the best magic of all.¡±


    Bolstered by Harry¡¯s words, Ron picked up his wand again and cast the spell. This time, the result was much closer to the bowl he had envisioned.


    ¡°Nicely done, Ron,¡± Seamus cheered. ¡°Now, watch this!¡±


    Harry had a sinking feeling as Seamus raised his wand.


    Sure enough, with a loud bang, Seamus¡¯s cup exploded spectacularly, soaring into the air before landing in pieces in front of them.


    ¡°Well... in a way, it did change,¡± Hermione said, picking up a fragment of the cup. ¡°At least the opening is wider now.¡±


    The afternoon brought Herbology, taught by the stout Professor Sprout, who led them to the greenhouses behind the castle. There, they began learning about various magical plants and fungi and their uses.


    For Harry, Herbology had always been one of his best subjects. Back in the 19th century, Hogwarts¡¯ Herbology professor had been none other than the school¡¯s most beautiful instructor, Professor Garrick, who wore her hair in two braids.


    Harry couldn¡¯t deny that an attractive teacher could greatly enhance a student¡¯s enthusiasm for learning.


    He had fond memories of the kind and graceful Professor Garrick, who always had a sisterly warmth about her. He often found excuses to ask her questions after class, and she was never annoyed. On the contrary, she had even taught him how to cultivate Chinese Chomping Cabbage.


    Cassandra had often teased him about it.


    ¡°Look at him,¡± she¡¯d say. ¡°Like a dog chasing a flying broomstick¡ªit¡¯ll never catch it, and even if it does, it can¡¯t ride it.¡±


    ------


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 Chapter 25: Chinese Chomping Cabbage

    Since it was the first lesson for the new students, Professor Sprout didn¡¯t have them engage in any practical work. Instead, she began with theoretical knowledge.


    Professor Sprout was kind and patient¡ªperhaps all Herbology professors at Hogwarts shared this trait. When Neville couldn¡¯t answer a question, she gently encouraged him, helping him recall the material with soft words.


    Seamus, however, was sneakily practicing Transfiguration during class. He managed to succeed once but then accidentally caused a potted Bubotuber to explode with his next spell. Fortunately, Harry reacted quickly, turning Seamus¡¯s scarf into an umbrella to shield them from the splattering pus.


    ¡°Well done on that Transfiguration spell! Five points to Gryffindor!¡± Professor Sprout exclaimed. She then sternly scolded Seamus.


    When Seamus looked downcast, Professor Sprout somehow produced a small cake and handed it to him.


    Seamus solemnly promised her that he would never cause trouble in Herbology class again. Professor Sprout forgave him, but as a punishment, deducted one point from Gryffindor.


    After class, Harry didn¡¯t hurry to leave. Instead, he stayed back in the greenhouse.


    ¡°Mr. Potter?¡± Professor Sprout noticed him lingering. ¡°Is there something I can help you with?¡±


    ¡°Well, Professor,¡± Harry began, choosing his words carefully, ¡°I read about Chinese Chomping Cabbage in a book, and I¡¯m quite interested in it. I was wondering if you might have a mature specimen here.¡±


    ¡°Chinese Chomping Cabbage is a highly dangerous plant,¡± Professor Sprout said gently. She didn¡¯t outright refuse Harry but added, ¡°I don¡¯t think a young wizard like you should cultivate such a perilous plant. However, seeing it in person might change your mind. Follow me.¡±


    Ron and Neville exchanged glances and decided to tag along. Hermione joined them as well.


    Seamus, holding his cake, decided to head back. He felt a little embarrassed facing Professor Sprout again after having blown up a Bubotuber.


    The four students followed Professor Sprout to the second floor of the greenhouse. They passed through some trees and stopped at a workbench.


    On the bench were six Chomping Cabbages with wide mouths and writhing bodies.


    ¡°Here they are,¡± Professor Sprout introduced. ¡°The Chomping Cabbages in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi don¡¯t do them justice¡ªthey¡¯re far more intimidating in reality.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    She picked up a stick and placed it near one of the cabbages.


    The cabbage twisted its plump body and snapped onto the stick with a crunch, biting it cleanly in half.


    ¡°Such a violent temperament,¡± Hermione said, frowning. ¡°Harry, I really don¡¯t think this is something we should try to grow¡ª¡±


    Before she could finish, Harry extended his wand and tapped the cabbage on its back. Then he reached out and touched it with his hand.


    ¡°Harry!¡± Hermione and Ron shouted together. ¡°Take your hand back now!¡±


    But to their surprise, the cabbage rubbed against Harry¡¯s hand like a puppy.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s actually quite friendly,¡± Harry said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Want to try?¡±


    Ron looked tempted and reached out cautiously, but the cabbage turned toward him and gave a menacing grin.


    ¡°On second thought, I¡¯ll pass,¡± Ron said, quickly withdrawing his hand.


    Harry patted the cabbage¡¯s body, thinking of  ¡°Spicy Exploding Cabbage¡± dish he had tasted before.


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Professor Sprout said, as if she had discovered a new continent. ¡°It¡¯s amazing that a young wizard like you understands plants so well. If this were during class, I¡¯d definitely award Gryffindor five points.¡±


    Finally, she added, ¡°If you like it so much, I can give you a smaller one that¡¯s less dangerous¡ªbut promise me you won¡¯t throw it at your classmates. Understand?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Professor. I promise I won¡¯t,¡± Harry replied obediently.


    Looking into Harry¡¯s green eyes, Professor Sprout smiled softly.


    This child¡­he¡¯s so much like Lily.


    Harry left the greenhouse, satisfied, with a small Chomping Cabbage in hand. Hermione watched him with concern, while Ron muttered, ¡°I hope it doesn¡¯t bite Scabbers.¡± He decided that both he and his pet would keep their distance from the cabbage.


    Neville, on the other hand, took a keen interest in the plant. He frequently fertilized and watered it, asking Harry about Herbology whenever he had questions. Harry patiently answered every one of them, feeling no need to withhold information from his roommate.


    When it came to Hogwarts classes, none felt more familiar to Harry than Professor Binns¡¯s History of Magic.


    Professor Binns was a ghost. The story went that he had fallen asleep by the staffroom fireplace one evening and then, the next morning, went to class, leaving his body behind.


    In class, Professor Binns spoke in a monotone, droning endlessly. Harry couldn¡¯t help but feel drowsy.


    It was so familiar. So nostalgic.


    Harry¡¯s eyes grew misty.


    Charms class, taught by the diminutive Professor Flitwick, was another highlight. He had to stand on a stack of books to see over the podium. During the first lesson, when he called Harry¡¯s name, he was so excited that he toppled backward out of sight.


    In the first lesson, they learned the Lumos charm. Most students managed to cast it successfully, but Harry¡¯s wand lit up like a searchlight, earning Gryffindor another five points from a delighted Professor Flitwick.


    The real disappointment for Harry was Defense Against the Dark Arts.


    In fact, the entire class found it disheartening. Professor Quirrell stammered his way through lessons, telling awkward stories of his supposed adventures. To make matters worse, the classroom reeked of garlic.


    According to Quirrell, the garlic was to ward off vampires. But the students suggested silver might work better.


    To divert the conversation, Quirrell taught them a small jinx¡ªLeg-Locker Curse.


    The spell captured the students¡¯ attention, sparing Quirrell further questions about the garlic smell. Everyone was eager to learn the curse.


    ------


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 Chapter 26: Potions

    Harry was different from the others. While everyone else was focused on learning how to master the Leg-Locker Curse, his attention was fixed on the back of Professor Quirrell''s head.


    What could be the reason for stuffing so much garlic in there to mask something? Could it be that Quirrell had some nasty sores on the back of his head? Or perhaps he was cursed?


    It wasn¡¯t that Harry wanted to help Quirrell solve his problem¡ªhe was just purely curious.


    When he returned to the Gryffindor common room, everyone was enthusiastically discussing Professor Quirrell.


    "I bet there''s garlic stuffed under that turban too," Fred and George chimed in. "That way, no matter where he goes, he''s protected against vampires."


    "Then why don¡¯t you ask him yourselves?" Ron, holding a bottle of Coca-Cola, suggested. "Or better yet, just yank off that turban. You two love pulling pranks, don¡¯t you?"


    The twins exchanged a glance before replying in unison, "Oh, dear Ronniekins, we¡¯d rather not get expelled from school."


    "Or worse," Fred added.


    "Mom¡¯s Howler," George finished.


    The twins high-fived, and Ron muttered under his breath, "They really don¡¯t know which is worse."


    Meanwhile, Fred and George discovered Harry¡¯s little biting cabbage. These two copycats often visited his dormitory, showing an unusual interest in the peculiar vegetable.


    Fred even tried poking it once but was quick enough to avoid getting bitten.


    After a few days of classes at Hogwarts, Harry noticed something shocking: his classmates¡¯ magical abilities were surprisingly poor. Some were so bad they¡¯d even developed their own unique flair for failure.


    The Muggle-born students were understandable; after all, nobody told them they were wizards until they received their Hogwarts letter, much less taught them any magic.


    But the so-called pureblood families? Their kids weren¡¯t much better.


    Take Malfoy¡¯s two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, for example. Rumor had it they couldn¡¯t even manage a basic Lumos spell. Even Ron, with his hand-me-down wand, managed to light it on his second try.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Seriously, how had the wizarding world declined to this extent?


    Harry felt a pang of frustration. How could they possibly rebuild the magical world with such a crowd?


    A thought began to form in his mind¡ªan immature idea, but an idea nonetheless. Should I restart the dueling club?


    In his days at Hogwarts, he hadn¡¯t heard of any such organization.


    On Friday morning, Harry woke up early and joined his classmates for breakfast in the Great Hall. Not seeing Hedwig felt strange; usually, by this time, she would be perched beside him, nibbling at his toast or dozing on his shoulder before returning to the Owlery once classes began.


    It wasn¡¯t long before she returned, carrying a note. The handwriting was messy and scrawled¡ªit was from Hagrid.


    "Dear Harry,


    I know you don¡¯t have classes Friday afternoon. Could you come by for tea around three? I¡¯d love to hear how your first week went. Please send your reply with Hedwig.


    ¡ªHagrid"


    Harry quickly borrowed Ron¡¯s quill, scribbled, "Sure, I¡¯d love to. See you soon," on the back, and sent Hedwig off.


    Potions class with the Slytherins was an exercise in tension. The two houses sat divided by an aisle down the middle of the classroom.


    Draco seemed to have forgotten the floating charm incident with Harry and was busy taunting Ron and Hermione, attempting to provoke a reaction.


    But Ron ignored him, and Hermione wasn¡¯t fazed either. Frustrated, Draco turned his attention to Neville.


    Before he could say much, the classroom door slammed open, and Snape swept in, his black robes billowing behind him.


    "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, yet every word was clear.


    Like Professor McGonagall, Snape commanded the classroom effortlessly.


    "Since there¡¯s no silly wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don¡¯t expect you to truly appreciate the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, or the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper to death¡ªbut only if you aren¡¯t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."


    The room was silent. Hermione leaned so far forward she was almost off her chair, eager to prove she wasn¡¯t a dunderhead.


    Snape¡¯s gaze swept the room, clearly satisfied with their reactions.


    "Mr. Potter," he said, fixing his dark eyes on Harry. "Our new celebrity."


    Harry looked up, unsure why he was being singled out.


    "Tell me, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, his words as greasy as his hair. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"


    Harry froze.


    He¡¯d once studied Victorian botany with Miss Garrick, a knowledgeable herbalist, during a peculiar time-travel mishap. From her, he¡¯d learned that in Victorian flower language, asphodel (not narcissus) symbolized "my regrets follow you to the grave," while wormwood represented "absence" and "bitter sorrow."


    Combining these with Snape¡¯s Slytherin demeanor, Harry understood: this was about his parents. Snape was expressing remorse and grief in his twisted, indirect way.


    What a peculiar man, Harry thought. If he had been friends with my parents, why not just say so?


    Then again... he wouldn¡¯t be a Slytherin if he could say it outright.


    Meeting Snape¡¯s piercing black eyes with his emerald ones, Harry¡¯s voice was calm as he replied, "It¡¯s okay, Professor."


    -------


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 Chapter 27: That Summer, That Girl

    As a master of Occlumency, and a man who had managed to act as a double agent under Voldemort, Severus Snape had always been in perfect control of his emotions, never allowing even the slightest hint to show.


    But he had never expected that when he finally revealed the secret he had buried for years¡ªusing the language of flowers¡ªto the son of the girl he once loved, it would seem... as though the boy could see right through him?


    Turmoil surged within Snape, though his face remained impassive.


    How could this eleven-year-old boy possibly understand Victorian flower language?


    His questioning gaze met Harry¡¯s green eyes.


    Those eyes...


    ¡°Sev~¡±


    By the clear lakeside, a red-haired girl stood with a book in her arms, her emerald-green eyes curving into cheerful crescents.


    The weather was sunny, and the sunlight enveloped the girl, making her look even more vibrant and lovely.


    Hearing her voice, Snape nervously stuffed a Dark Arts book into his robes.


    But in his panic, the book slipped and fell to the ground.


    ¡°Sev, you¡¯re researching the Dark Arts again!¡± Lily bent to pick up the book, biting her lip as she looked at Snape. Her bright eyes were filled with sorrow. ¡°Dark magic corrupts a wizard¡¯s soul. Professor Dumbledore warned us about this. Do you really want to become like...¡±


    ¡°Enough, Lily.¡± Snape lowered his head. ¡°I just hope you can understand¡ªI want so badly to...¡±


    ¡°To impress that man? You know what he stands for, don¡¯t you?¡± Lily¡¯s tone was mocking, then sorrowful. ¡°Sev, you promised me... I¡¯m so disappointed in you!¡±


    ¡°Lily, I...¡± Snape opened his mouth to explain, but the words stuck in his throat.


    Lily threw the book, Whispers Among the Petals, heavily at him and ran off without looking back.


    Countless nights, Snape would wake from dreams of that scene.


    The only solace left in his heart was that book, Whispers Among the Petals.


    Yes, Lily was the boy¡¯s mother...


    Immersed in memories of Lily, Snape suddenly noticed Harry¡¯s face.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It looked exactly like his¡ªthat arrogant, self-important face.


    Whatever thawing had occurred in Snape¡¯s heart froze over in an instant.


    Potter.


    ¡°Gryffindor... loses two points,¡± Snape announced flatly, his tone as slow and dragging as ever. ¡°For your impertinence.¡±


    With that, Snape swished his robes dramatically and returned to the podium.


    ¡°Harry!¡± Hermione whispered urgently. ¡°Why did you say that? Honestly, I thought Professor Snape couldn¡¯t answer his own question!¡±


    Harry raised an eyebrow and didn¡¯t answer Hermione¡¯s question.


    He, too, was baffled. What was with this professor?


    Fine, be miserable all you like. But why drag Gryffindor down with you?


    Soon, Harry would find out that Snape had actually gone easy on him.


    Unlike Herbology, Potions under Professor Snape didn¡¯t begin with theoretical study. Instead, Snape preferred to throw them into hands-on work, guiding them as they learned.


    Snape paired the students into groups of two and had them mix a simple potion for treating boils.


    As the students busied themselves, Snape stalked around the classroom in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs. Nearly everyone received a scathing critique¡ªexcept Harry.


    It wasn¡¯t that Snape didn¡¯t want to find fault with Harry; he simply couldn¡¯t. He stood over Harry for a good ten minutes, but every step of Harry¡¯s process was impeccable.


    It¡¯s just a boil cure, Harry thought. You want me to brew Felix Felicis on the spot? I could do that, too.


    When Harry smoothly poured the completed potion into a vial, Snape finally delivered his judgment with a complicated expression.


    ¡°Not bad. For a first-year, it¡¯s... adequate.¡±


    Ron looked as though he¡¯d seen a ghost. He kept his head down, terrified that Snape might notice his expression.


    If Snape caught him, losing ten points would be the least of his worries.


    Harry glanced up and thought he caught a fleeting moment of softness in Snape¡¯s expression.


    But before he could say anything, a hissing sound and a cloud of green smoke erupted nearby.


    Neville had somehow melted Seamus¡¯s cauldron into a twisted lump. The potion spilled onto the stone floor, eating through students¡¯ shoes.


    Within seconds, the class was perched on their stools. Neville, drenched in potion, sprouted angry boils on his arms and legs and wailed in pain.


    ¡°Idiot!¡± Snape bellowed, waving his wand to vanish the spilled potion. ¡°You didn¡¯t take the cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills, did you, Longbottom?¡±


    Neville sobbed, the incomplete potion causing boils to erupt wherever it had splashed on him.


    ¡°Weasley!¡± Snape turned on Ron. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you stop him from adding the quills? Did you think his failure would make you look better? Because of you, Gryffindor loses three points!¡±


    In truth, Ron hadn¡¯t been paired with Neville; he¡¯d been working with Harry. But Neville¡¯s station was nearby.


    Ron, seasoned by years of dealing with unfair treatment, seemed unfazed. He stoically accepted Snape¡¯s manufactured grievance.


    ¡°Keep your head down, and the storm will pass,¡± Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George had all advised him about Potions class before term began.


    Harry sometimes wondered if every Potions professor harbored an inexplicable grudge against Gryffindors¡ªespecially those named Weasley.


    Then, as expected, Snape confiscated Harry¡¯s perfectly brewed potion to treat Neville¡¯s boils. The potion worked instantly, healing Neville¡¯s boils as everyone watched.


    Harry rested his chin on his hands and sighed.


    Snape was so contradictory. Curious and frustrated, Harry resolved to ask Hagrid about it later.


    Hagrid had been at Hogwarts for years and had been close friends with his parents. Surely, he would know what had happened between Snape and his family.


    -------


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 Chapter 28: Harry in the Newspaper

    Drenched by the scalding potion and subjected to Snape''s venomous remarks, Neville continued trembling all the way to lunch.


    "Don''t let it get to you, mate," Ron said, attempting to console Neville. "No one can be good at everything, right?"


    "You''re right, Weasley," came Malfoy''s sharp, mocking tone from the Slytherin table. "Perhaps this little lump should think more with his brain instead of his fat backside."


    "Shut it, Malfoy," Ron snapped, pulling Neville along and away from the confrontation.


    Before Malfoy could fire back, Slytherin Prefect Gemma Farley intervened. "Mr. Malfoy?" she called.


    "Miss Farley," Malfoy responded, clearly aware of her authority.


    "Close your mouth," Gemma ordered curtly.


    She wasn¡¯t particularly concerned for Neville, but rather for Slytherin''s house points, which she didn¡¯t want docked due to Malfoy¡¯s careless taunts. Under her warning, Malfoy fell silent but kept casting furtive glances at Ron and Neville''s retreating backs.


    That afternoon, Harry rounded up his dormmates and Hermione to visit Hagrid¡¯s hut. Seeing the group of young Gryffindors, Hagrid''s face lit up with joy.


    "Come in, come in," he said warmly. Noticing Neville trembling beside Fang, his massive boarhound, Hagrid quickly added, "Hold on, let me tie up Fang¡ªhe gets a bit too friendly."


    Once the dog was secured, Hagrid ushered them inside. Harry had brought an assortment of Muggle snacks, including a few large bottles of soda.


    "Ah, Coca-Cola," Hagrid exclaimed, holding up a massive 2.5-liter bottle as though it were a vial. "I¡¯ll admit, Muggles do get some things right."


    After Harry introduced everyone¡ªRon, Seamus, Neville, and Hermione¡ªHagrid beamed at the familiar surname. "Another Weasley, eh? I know your brothers Fred and George. Can''t tell them apart, mind, but I''ve spent a good part of my life chasing those two troublemakers out of the Forbidden Forest."


    Hagrid then offered them a platter of what he proudly called "rock cakes." Their surfaces looked hard enough to withstand a hammer.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Harry eyed the "cakes" warily. Tentatively, he picked one up and tried breaking it in half. It didn¡¯t budge. Instead, he dunked it in water, planning to soften it before eating. The others stared at him in stunned silence.


    Neville, meanwhile, was still struggling to take a bite of the one in his hands. Ignoring their expressions, Harry conjured a fork with his wand and began eating the softened cake.


    To his surprise, the flavor was delightful¡ªa strong, creamy sweetness akin to souffl¨¦. "It''s good!" he declared. "Sorry, Hagrid, my teeth have been bothering me lately, so I had to soak it first."


    As they chatted, Hagrid began offering his thoughts on the professors. "Professor Sprout makes a fine cake, I tell ya. And McGonagall¡ªstrict, sure, but she''s as kind as they come. Truth be told, all Hogwarts professors are good people."


    Ron interjected immediately, "Except Snape."


    "Absolutely," Neville chimed in, with Seamus nodding fervently.


    "Now, now," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "You lot don''t know him like I do. He''s... well, he''s..." Hagrid faltered, unable to find the right words.


    "He¡¯s always picking on Harry!" Ron blurted. "You should see the way he looks at him, like he wants to eat him alive."


    "No," Hermione countered thoughtfully. "It''s more... complicated. I can''t quite put my finger on it."


    "It is complicated," Hagrid agreed cryptically, giving them a knowing smile.


    "Why?" Harry pressed. "You¡¯ve known my parents and been here forever. Snape must have known them too¡ªwere they friends?"


    At Harry''s words, Hagrid visibly froze, inhaling sharply. "Merlin''s baggiest bloomers... What made yeh think that?"


    "Am I wrong?" Harry asked, puzzled by Hagrid''s reaction.


    "Not wrong, exactly," Hagrid hedged. "Let''s just say, your parents and Professor Snape have... quite the history."


    "That explains a lot," Harry murmured, remembering Snape''s earlier question.


    "What do you mean?" Ron asked, perplexed. "How does that connect to the way he treats you? He''s just out to get you, mate."


    Harry recounted Snape''s cryptic question about the Victorian language of flowers. His friends listened, expressions shifting between confusion and shock. Ron looked particularly gobsmacked. "But why not just say it outright?" Hermione mused. "It feels... like there''s more to this."


    "That''s Snape for you," Hagrid said with a chuckle, deftly steering the conversation elsewhere. "By the way, Ron, how''s your brother Charlie doing? I always liked that lad¡ªhe¡¯s got a real way with magical creatures."


    Ron took the bait, launching into stories about Charlie''s dragon-rearing adventures in Romania.


    Meanwhile, Harry¡¯s attention was drawn to a newspaper on Hagrid''s table. A section had been partially cut out but not completely removed. He noticed two articles: one about an attempted robbery at Gringotts, and another that caught his eye¡ªa historical tidbit.


    It was a "this day in history" piece commemorating the suppression of a goblin rebellion a century ago.


    Hermione, too, noticed the paper and gasped. "Harry! Your name is in here!"


    -------


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 Chapter 29: Tribute to Dumbledores Senior

    Harry''s scar suddenly throbbed violently.


    He instinctively held his hand to his forehead, memories of a century ago flooding his mind.


    A century ago, on this exact day¡ªSeptember 6, 1891¡ªhe and a few classmates quelled a goblin rebellion during their fifth-year summer holiday. On that fateful day, they confronted and defeated the goblin leader, Ranrok.


    It had been a grueling battle, so intense that even Sebastian''s desperate use of the Killing Curse failed to harm Ranrok...


    "Ugh..." Harry groaned involuntarily from the sharp pain in his scar.


    "Harry, what''s wrong?" Ron leaned in, his concern evident.


    "Nothing," Harry quickly covered his face with his hand, saying, "Toothache¡ªyou know, inflamed gums."


    As the memories surged like waves, Harry finally recalled how he had returned to 1991.


    At the exact moment Ranrok, in his dragon form, collapsed to the ground, Harry had barely managed to cast a Shield Charm before being struck by a flash of red light.


    When he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt''s house.


    In the final moments of his memory, he distinctly remembered the frightened and helpless looks of Veratia and Cassandra.


    "Harry!"


    He finally remembered that the two voices calling out to him were not his aunt''s, but belonged to those two girls.


    "Harry Potter," Hagrid said with a chuckle, seeing that Harry was alright. He stroked his thick beard as he began to explain to the younger students. "Perhaps you''ve heard the name before¡ªI mean, the one from a hundred years ago."


    "No," Hermione frowned. "I''ve read plenty of books, like A History of Modern Magic, The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts, and Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century. They all only mention our Harry¡ªour Savior who defeated Voldemort."


    At the mention of Voldemort''s name, Hagrid, Ron, and Neville collectively shuddered.


    "Ah, good lass," Hagrid said, biting his lip. "Don''t say the name outright. And as for that other Potter¡ªhe''s from the 19th century, which is considered recent history. You wouldn''t find him in A History of Modern Magic or Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century."


    "In fact," Hagrid added in a low voice, "because he ruthlessly crushed the goblin rebellion and perished alongside Ranrok, Gringotts'' goblins paid a hefty price to ensure his name was largely erased from public memory. For a while, before You-Know-Who emerged, that Potter¡¯s name served as a codeword."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Alright, Voldemort, Harry thought. Now we have yet another account to settle.


    "But isn''t he mentioned in Hogwarts¡¯ history?" Hermione asked, frowning.


    "Otherwise, why do you think it''s called Hogwarts: A History?" Hagrid spread his large hands.


    So even school history was censored... Hermione nodded in understanding.


    "Then how do you know about him?" Seamus asked, noticing the discrepancy.


    Hagrid scratched his head and let out an "Oh": "Of course, Dumbledore told me. That Potter was his senior. If he hadn¡¯t perished with Ranrok, he would¡¯ve been there to witness Dumbledore¡¯s Sorting. Dumbledore even said he couldn¡¯t have handled things better than that Potter."


    Oh, the generations, Harry mused inwardly.


    "Was he really that powerful?" Ron asked in astonishment.


    "Oh, absolutely," Hagrid said mysteriously. "The goblins even have a legend that says when the You-Know-Who visited Azkaban, the Dementors there desperately tried to recall happy memories..."


    Harry was speechless. Was I really that scary back then?


    Merlin¡¯s beard, I never even used the Killing Curse on the goblins! I merely disarmed them and flung their weapons back at them¡ªor turned stones into explosives and tossed them in their faces.


    Hagrid continued, "But his name being the same as Harry''s here is quite the coincidence, isn¡¯t it?"


    "It is," Harry replied with a small smile.


    "But it¡¯s not a coincidence," Hagrid suddenly said seriously.


    "Huh?" The young students gasped in unison.


    Harry''s heart skipped a beat. Could Hagrid have discovered something?


    "It¡¯s not a coincidence?" Seamus asked, startled. "Come on, Hagrid, are you saying that Harry is our Harry?"


    "Oh, don¡¯t be daft, Seamus," Hagrid said, spreading his hands. "That Potter perished alongside Ranrok. At the time, wizards called him the Savior because he not only ended the goblin rebellion but also defeated the Ashen Serpents with his friends."


    "During the Ashen Serpents¡¯ reign of terror, life was miserable for both wizards and Muggles alike," Hagrid added.


    "So," Hermione lifted her head, "a hundred years ago, there was a ¡®Harry Potter¡¯ who saved the wizarding world, and a hundred years later, there¡¯s another ¡®Harry Potter¡¯ who did the same thing?"


    "Exactly," Hagrid nodded. "And about why this isn¡¯t a coincidence¡ªthat starts with James. At the time, You-Know-Who¡ªthe Slytherin one¡ªwas murdering innocents, and the Death Eaters were ravaging the magical world. It was a truly dark time."


    "James Potter decided to name his son Harry Potter," Hagrid recounted, "both to honor the great Savior from a century ago and to hope his son might live up to that legacy. As you can see, Harry didn¡¯t let his father down."


    Harry opened his mouth, stunned. He hadn¡¯t expected his name to originate from... himself.


    This feels like a time-loop paradox...


    "Was he not a member of the Potter family?" Ron asked curiously.


    "Of course not," Hagrid chuckled. "He was reportedly from a Muggle background. But the V-named one didn¡¯t believe it¡ªhe insisted that Potter had to be of pureblood descent."


    "Unbelievable," Seamus exclaimed. "The wizarding world was saved by two Harry Potters in a single century."


    "What¡¯s so surprising?" Hermione flicked her bushy hair, resting a hand on Harry¡¯s shoulder. She began to recite, "Sometimes, on our great isle, a burden falls to one man; he shall lead the people from the Valley of Shadows to the Sunlit Highlands of peace and prosperity..."


    "Cool! Where¡¯d you learn that?" Ron asked, awestruck.


    "From Yes, Prime Minister," Hermione replied. "My dad loves that show."


    After pondering for a moment, Harry turned back to Hagrid and asked, "What about Potter¡¯s friends¡ªthe ones who fought alongside him? What happened to them?"


    -------


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 Chapter 30: News from an Old Friend

    "After that incident where Mr. Potter and Ranrok perished together, there has been no news of his friends," Hagrid shrugged. "But it''s been a hundred years; even if they were still alive, they¡¯d be elderly by now."


    He added one final remark.


    "Time, you know, is always unforgiving."


    "But they were all such remarkable people," Harry asked with a furrowed brow. "Surely they wouldn''t just vanish into obscurity?"


    Hagrid shook his head and replied, "That, I don''t know. But I¡¯ve never heard of any of Mr. Potter¡¯s Friends from that time being mentioned. So much so that many people believe he was just a fictional character."


    As they continued chatting, Hermione noticed a report in the newspaper about a break-in at Gringotts.


    "Seems Gringotts isn¡¯t as secure as they claim," Hermione read aloud from the paper. "Latest update on the illegal break-in at Gringotts on July 26th: investigations are ongoing, with suspicions falling on unidentified dark witches and wizards. The goblins at Gringotts have reiterated that nothing was stolen. The vault that was targeted had, in fact, been emptied earlier that day. A spokesperson for the goblins commented: ''As for what was in the vault, no comment. Stay out of it.''"


    "July 26th?"


    Harry suddenly remembered¡ªthat was the very day Hagrid had taken him to Gringotts.


    He asked, "Hagrid, the day of the Gringotts break-in was the same day we went there. Could it be that it happened while we were there?"


    This time, however, Hagrid avoided the question, lowering his head and avoiding Harry''s gaze as he handed him a cup of tea.


    "Here, try this. I picked these chamomile flowers in the Forbidden Forest earlier," Hagrid said, trying to change the subject. "It''s good for the inflammation in your gums."


    Seeing Hagrid¡¯s reluctance to talk and his attempt to shift the topic, Harry chose not to press further.


    After all, it was something Professor Dumbledore had entrusted to him; it couldn¡¯t be casually discussed.


    Taking the newspaper from Hermione, Harry carefully read through the report again: The vault targeted had, in fact, been emptied earlier that day¡­ Combining this detail with Hagrid¡¯s reaction, Harry deduced that the vault in question must have been the one they visited.


    And since the vault had already been emptied, it meant the only thing left from it was that small parcel.


    This indicated that whatever the mysterious wizard was after, it was the item Hagrid had withdrawn.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    On the way back, Harry couldn¡¯t stop brainstorming.


    As he thought, he also began reminiscing about Ominis, the Slytherin boy who had essentially been his external brain for several years.


    If Ominis were here, he would undoubtedly help unravel the threads and find useful clues, Harry thought.


    Not only was Harry pondering the Gringotts break-in, but he also found himself missing his old friends.


    He still refused to believe that such extraordinary classmates could have simply vanished without a trace.


    Something must have happened!


    After some thought, he recalled two names: Cassandra Malfoy and Gareth Weasley.


    Their descendants were currently attending school, and one of them was now his close friend.


    But how could he bring this up? Asking Ron outright, "Hey mate, does your family have an ancestor named Gareth?" would surely get him a skeptical response like, "How do you know about my great-grandfather?"


    As for Malfoy, that was even less likely¡ªthere was no way that insufferable boy would cooperate.


    Just as Harry was thinking about Ron, he heard him speaking loudly nearby.


    "Muggles¡¯ flying contraptions are so clunky," Ron said. "Back when I was riding Charlie¡¯s old broom, I almost crashed into a glider..."


    Hermione looked up and shot him a stern glance, a look that clearly said: You know what I¡¯m going to say.


    Ron¡¯s face flushed crimson. He had forgotten that the all-knowing Hermione came from a Muggle family.


    Oops, he had just boasted in front of an expert.


    Luckily, Hermione merely glared at him without exposing his exaggeration, and Ron sighed in relief.


    He considered salvaging his dignity but decided against it, though Draco at the Slytherin table behind him had started boasting loudly.


    "Too bad, Weasley, you only almost hit a glider," Draco sneered. "You must have heard about me¡ªonce, while flying, I nearly collided with a Muggle helicopter. Luckily, I¡¯m quick and agile, so I dodged. My dad was terrified and gave me a scolding afterward."


    Draco added, "It¡¯s a shame first-years aren¡¯t allowed to join the Quidditch team. Otherwise, I¡¯d show everyone what I¡¯m made of."


    "What a braggart," Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron. "Someone like him, who can¡¯t even use magic properly, would just get shredded by the rotor blades if he ran into a helicopter."


    As Ron was her friend, Hermione refrained from debunking his exaggerations on the spot. Draco, on the other hand, was someone she had disliked since the beginning.


    "Hey, M... Miss Know-It-All!" Draco sneered, holding back a more offensive insult. "You think you know so much about flying broomsticks? I bet you wouldn¡¯t even dare ride one!"


    Hermione smirked and retorted, "Oh, Drama King Malfoy, I may not know much about broomsticks, but I do know about helicopters."


    Draco¡¯s face turned red as he began rambling about how annoying Muggles were, throwing in some snide comments about Hermione. The Gryffindor table erupted in laughter.


    "Draco, don¡¯t pay attention to them," coaxed Pansy Parkinson, who resembled a poodle. "They¡¯re just jealous of your flying skills. When flying lessons begin, make sure to show them what you¡¯re made of."


    Perhaps Pansy¡¯s encouragement worked because Draco regained his usual smug demeanor.


    After all, apart from the helicopter bit, the rest of his boasts weren¡¯t entirely untrue.


    Draco was confident in his flying abilities.


    Ever since he was four years old, he had been zipping around the Malfoy Manor on a child-sized broomstick. Seven years of broomstick experience isn¡¯t a joke!


    Harry, for his part, also enjoyed flying. Although Headmaster Phineas Black had banned Quidditch, he never skipped flying lessons.


    But now, Harry had more pressing matters to attend to¡ªlike investigating the whereabouts of his old friends.


    He decided: that night, he would sneak into the castle''s lowest level to check the Map Room. Perhaps Veratia, who shared the same ancient magical heritage, had left him a clue there.


    -------


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 Chapter 31: Order of the Phoenix

    Weekends at Hogwarts were much like holidays at Muggle schools.


    So, Harry decided to set out during the latter half of the night, when all was quiet. This way, he could avoid his dormmates and enjoy a lazy lie-in the next morning.


    The Map Chamber was located deep beneath the Hogwarts castle, a secret room tightly protected by ancient magic.


    Had it not been for Harry and Veratia helping Richard Jackdaw fulfill his final wish, they might never have discovered this place.


    This unique location became a spot for Harry and Veratia to exchange insights on ancient magic¡ªthough Professor Rackham¡¯s portrait always had plenty to say about it.


    In Professor Rackham¡¯s words: ¡°This sacred chamber reeks of the stench of juveniles!¡±


    As Harry invisibly cloaked himself with a Disillusionment Charm, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit awkward.


    Looking down, he realized his body was hidden, but his feet were still visible.


    Blasted age, he thought bitterly. Being young meant weaker magical reserves, insufficient to fully power certain spells.


    For example, Apparition, a spell requiring a license, had a minimum age of seventeen due to the same reason.


    Throughout history, countless wizards had mishaps while practicing Apparition. Some left behind bits of themselves.


    Those luckier lost hair or eyebrows; the less fortunate might leave an arm or leg¡ªor even end up with their upper and lower halves separated.


    Fortunately, Harry was using the Disillusionment Charm, so even with insufficient magic, there was no risk of physical dismemberment.


    And at this late hour, he didn¡¯t worry about being discovered.


    Thus, an eerie sight unfolded¡ªa pair of disembodied feet pattered quietly down the hall. If any wandering student happened upon this, they¡¯d likely faint in terror.


    Harry wasn¡¯t directionally challenged. He¡¯d visited the Map Chamber countless times; returning there felt like coming home.


    Descending the spiral staircase to the castle¡¯s lowest level, Harry eagerly looked up, only to be stunned.


    Instead of the familiar door, a solid wall greeted him.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Harry muttered under his breath. Then he remembered¡ªthe chamber had been reinforced with ancient magic.


    Only someone capable of wielding ancient magic could see the door, let alone enter.


    And since the age of awakening ancient magic was fifteen, Harry realized he¡¯d have to wait until fifth year to access the chamber.


    Harry had once asked Veratia why she insisted on reinforcing the chamber with ancient magic.


    ¡°To prevent people like Ranrok from coveting ancient magic,¡± Veratia had said.


    But Harry always suspected that wasn¡¯t her true reason¡ªthough he had no evidence.


    Circling the wall for a while, he found no way to break through and had to give up.


    Aside from the Map Chamber, there were two other potential places to investigate:


    One was the cavern beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; the other, the Room of Requirement on the 7th floor.


    The cavern was something Sebastian had told him about¡ªthough Ominis had been furious when he learned.


    Ultimately, however, Ominis had begrudgingly approved of Harry¡¯s involvement.


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    As for the Room of Requirement, Veratia had discovered it after transferring to Hogwarts in their fifth year.


    Harry wasn¡¯t keen on wandering into the cavern at this hour; it always reminded him of a prison.


    Still, thinking about it, he wondered if the spot where they practiced magic together back then might also be useful.


    For now, I¡¯ll check the Room of Requirement, Harry decided. I can save the cavern for another time.


    Resolving this, Harry climbed to the 7th floor and stopped before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls.


    ¡°I need a meeting place for the Order of the Phoenix,¡± he thought, pacing three times back and forth.


    A faint rumble sounded from the wall, and a grand door appeared before him.


    ¡°Got it!¡± Harry exclaimed happily, pushing the door open and stepping inside.


    Since Harry¡¯s thoughts were focused on the old meeting room, everything was just as he remembered it. The four walls were adorned with banners representing each house, from Gryffindor to Slytherin.


    In the era of Phineas Nigellus Black as headmaster, house unity was something unimaginable today.


    House bias? Nonexistent. If you disliked Headmaster Black, you were already allies!


    Even Slytherin students were no exception.


    But though the meeting room remained the same, its occupants were long gone.


    The friends who had once laughed together here were now scattered and untraceable.


    ¡°Deeco?¡± Harry called for the house-elf, but there was no response.


    Deeco had been assigned as Harry¡¯s caretaker by Professor Weasley. During Harry¡¯s time at Hogwarts, Deeco managed his daily life.


    After Veratia transferred schools, Deeco had to serve them both.


    Receiving no reply, Harry undid the ill-fitting Disillusionment Charm and sat in his usual spot¡ªjust like in those old gatherings.


    ¡°I think our group needs a name,¡± Veratia had said back then, gently polishing the beak of the phoenix Fiona. Her tone was soft. ¡°Harry, you¡¯re the glue that binds us. It¡¯s only right you decide the name.¡±


    Harry, who always struggled with naming things, had spotted the phoenix and gotten an idea.


    ¡°How about The Order of the Phoenix?¡± Harry suggested. ¡°We do have a phoenix, after all.¡±


    ¡°What a lazy name, Potter,¡± Cassandra¡¯s gray eyes were filled with disdain. ¡°The Order of the Phoenix? I could gag...¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s pretty good, right?¡± Sebastian laughed, draping an arm around Ominis¡¯ shoulders, clearly approving of Harry¡¯s suggestion.


    Ominis, with his head bowed, gave a quiet hum of agreement¡ªnot to Harry, but as a subtle protest against Sebastian¡¯s lack of boundaries.


    ¡°Five to one,¡± said Hufflepuff¡¯s Poppy Sweeting, raising her hand.


    ¡°Seven to one,¡± added Gareth and Ravenclaw¡¯s Amit Thakkar, raising theirs.


    Cassandra, however, drawled, ¡°Voting? How childish. I never said I disagreed with Potter¡¯s silly name¡ªunanimous approval.¡±


    ¡°Guys, I...¡± Harry looked up but found the long table empty.


    ¡°I really miss you all,¡± he said softly.


    -------


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 Chapter 32: Legilimency

    Harry sat motionless for a while, waiting for his emotions to settle before he began searching for clues.


    Grasping his wand, he gave it a gentle wave.


    "Revelio!"


    But nothing happened. The Order of the Phoenix''s meeting room bore no traces of his old friends.


    After a fruitless search in the Room of Requirement, Harry reluctantly decided to give up.


    He slipped back into the Gryffindor dormitory and flopped onto his bed. Across from him, Ron lay sound asleep, smacking his lips as though savoring a dream of something delicious.


    The next day, Harry slept in until noon.


    He wasn''t alone; many of his dorm mates did the same.


    "Good morning," Ron greeted with a smile.


    "It''s already noon," Harry replied, drawing the curtains and peering out the window.


    On regular days, young wizards received their packages during breakfast. But being a weekend, they all slept late, so the owls delivered packages at noon.


    An owl swooped in through the doorway, dropping a package squarely onto Neville''s lap.


    "Ouch!" Neville yelped. "Carol, you always do this!"


    He muttered as he opened the package, pulling out a glass orb about the size of half a fist. Inside, white smoke swirled.


    "Look, it''s a Remembrall," Seamus said with a grin.


    "Yeah, a Remembrall," Neville replied with a sheepish expression. "Gran knows I''m forgetful¡ªit''s supposed to tell you if you''ve forgotten something. You hold it like this, and if it turns red¡ªoh no!"


    As the orb glowed bright red, Neville''s face fell. "It means I''ve forgotten something!"


    He frantically tried to recall what it could be when Draco sauntered past the Gryffindor table and snatched the Remembrall from Neville''s hand.


    "Malfoy!" Harry, already in a foul mood, shot to his feet. "Give Neville his Remembrall back."


    "Why should I?" Draco sneered, tossing the orb in his hand. "This little lump is so dim even a Remembrall can''t help him remember how to wear his robes properly."


    With a smirk, Draco slammed the Remembrall onto the table.


    "Next time, try using your fat head to think, Longbottom," he added coldly. "People like you are just¡ª"You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    He abruptly stopped as Professor McGonagall appeared, her sharp gaze fixed on the scene.


    "What''s going on here?" she asked sternly.


    "Malfoy took my Remembrall, Professor," Neville said quickly. "Harry and Ron were telling him to give it back."


    Draco smirked defiantly at Harry and Ron before slinking away.


    Harry''s already foul mood worsened.


    He had the sudden urge to cast Legilimens on Draco''s pale, scrawny face¡ªnot just to teach him a lesson but also to see if he had any memories related to Cassandra.


    "Well done, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, a faint smile tugging at her otherwise stern expression.


    "Thank you, Professor," Harry and Ron replied in unison.


    On Tuesday, after a dull History of Magic class, Flying lessons finally arrived.


    The monotony of Professor Binns'' droning lectures always made Flying lessons a refreshing change of pace.


    Even the groggiest students perked up instantly.


    Flying lessons were shared between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Unfortunately, Professor Binns, true to form, had let his class overrun, so the Gryffindor students arrived late.


    The Slytherins, already waiting, looked visibly annoyed. Twenty broomsticks lay neatly arranged on the ground.


    "These brooms are ancient," Ron muttered to Harry. "I heard they''ve been here since Bill''s time at Hogwarts. Fred says they shudder at high altitudes, and the steering is awful."


    "They should replace them," Harry said absently, his thoughts elsewhere.


    While Ron seemed excited, Neville and Hermione were visibly nervous.


    Hermione clung to passages from Quidditch Through the Ages, reciting theoretical tips to ease her anxiety. Neville, finding comfort in her confidence, stayed close, absorbing her rapid explanations.


    Madam Hooch soon arrived, her short gray hair and hawk-like eyes commanding attention.


    "All right, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Stand by a broomstick¡ªquickly! We haven''t got all day!"


    "Stick out your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch instructed. "Say, Up!"


    "Up!" everyone shouted.


    Harry''s broom leapt instantly into his hand. Hermione glanced at him, startled, as her own broom stubbornly remained on the ground.


    "When I blow my whistle, kick off hard from the ground," Madam Hooch continued. "Keep the broom steady, rise a few feet, lean forward slightly, then land vertically. Wait for my signal¡ªthree, two¡ª"


    But before she could finish, Neville shot into the air like a firework.


    "Whoa!" Draco exclaimed, shielding his eyes as Neville rocketed upward, only to plummet moments later.


    It happened so quickly that Harry barely had time to react. He instinctively extended his hand, casting a softening charm.


    Though his magic slightly cushioned the fall, Neville still landed with a heavy thud.


    "Broken wrist," Madam Hooch announced briskly, helping Neville to his feet. "I''ll take him to the hospital wing. No one else is to fly in my absence¡ªanyone caught will be expelled before they can say Quidditch!"


    As soon as she left, Draco seized Neville''s fallen Remembrall.


    "Isn''t this Longbottom''s Remembrall?" he taunted. "Maybe if he squeezed it, he''d remember to land on his fat behind instead of his wrist."


    "Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry snapped, stepping forward.


    Draco smirked. "No, I think I''ll hide it. Maybe the roof? That''ll teach him."


    Mounting his broom, Draco hovered mid-air.


    "What''s wrong, Potter? Can''t reach me?" he jeered.


    Without hesitation, Harry climbed onto a broomstick.


    "Harry! No!" Hermione shouted. "Madam Hooch said¡ª"


    But Harry was already airborne, flying with an ease that stunned everyone.


    "That''s amazing," Seamus muttered, awestruck.


    "Give it back, Malfoy," Harry demanded icily. "Or you''ll regret it."


    Draco tossed the Remembrall lazily in his hand. "Standing up for Longbottom? How noble."


    Harry''s anger flared. Between the frustration of his fruitless search and Draco''s smug taunts, he was at his limit.


    He pointed his wand at Draco, his voice low and dangerous.


    -------


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 Chapter 33: The most painful memory

    The Black family¡¯s motto was ¡°Always Pure.¡± If the Malfoy family had one, it might well have been ¡°Always Adaptable.¡±


    Always adaptable, always notorious.


    When Draco saw Harry draw his wand, his courage evaporated in an instant. Without hesitation, he spun his broom around and fled, wobbling erratically in midair to avoid being struck by Harry¡¯s spell. It was a desperate attempt to escape unscathed.


    Harry, however, lowered his wand. He wasn¡¯t particularly skilled in Legilimency, and even if he were, the skill required more than fear-fueled flight to work. A target needed to be calm, maintain eye contact, and experience some emotional disturbance that could stir up memories. None of these conditions applied to Draco in that moment.


    Still panicking, Draco threw the Remembrall high into the air, forgetting one critical detail: Hogwarts¡¯ school brooms were notoriously old and unreliable. Reckless maneuvers could easily end in disaster.


    And disaster struck. The broom bucked wildly, throwing Draco off balance. His scream tore through the air.


    ¡°Ahhh! Help me! Somebody help me!¡± he shrieked as he flailed helplessly, the broom jerking beneath him. Finally, the broom gave up altogether, and Draco was flung off like a kite snapped from its string.


    While Neville¡¯s Remembrall fell toward the ground on one side, Draco hurtled through the air on the other.


    Harry had only a split second to decide. Though Draco had more than earned a harsh lesson, saving a life came first.


    ¡°Accio!¡± Harry shouted, casting a Summoning Charm. Instead of targeting Draco directly¡ªsince Summoning Charms didn¡¯t work on people¡ªhe focused on Draco¡¯s robes. The spell yanked Draco toward him like a rag doll.


    ¡°Whoa!¡± The students below gasped in awe as the magic unfolded.


    ¡°P-Potter?¡± Draco stammered, trembling as Harry pulled him close with the broom¡¯s momentum.


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this, Malfoy,¡± Harry said coldly. With Draco securely held, Harry turned his attention to the Remembrall, now plummeting toward the ground.


    Despite his glasses, Harry¡¯s sharp vision honed in on the tiny sphere. Tilting his broom downward, he dived at full speed.


    Draco, however, thought Harry intended to crash them both into the earth and panicked even more.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Please, Potter, don¡¯t do this! I¡¯ll do anything¡ªanything!¡± he begged hysterically, his voice trembling with terror.


    Harry remained unfazed. The ground rushed up to meet them as Draco¡¯s fear peaked.


    ¡°AAAAAHHH!¡± Draco¡¯s scream was piercing, high-pitched enough to rival a soprano¡¯s.


    At the last possible moment, Harry pulled up, the broom leveling out just above the ground. His hand snatched the Remembrall mid-dive.


    Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor students below, who raced to greet Harry as he landed.


    ¡°Mate, that was brilliant!¡± Ron exclaimed, his face alight with admiration.


    Even as a dedicated Quidditch fan, Ron swore not even players from the English National Quidditch Team could have pulled off such a move.


    Harry grinned at his friends, releasing Draco, who landed with a graceless thud on the grass.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell my father about this!¡± Draco wailed, tears and snot streaming down his face.


    ¡°Oh, save it, Drama Queen,¡± Harry retorted with disdain. ¡°Actually, you¡¯re not just a Drama Queen¡ªyou¡¯re a Snot Queen too.¡±


    ¡°You¡ªyou¡¯ll all see!¡± Draco choked out, glaring tearfully.


    ¡°See what?¡± Ron teased, brushing his broom against Draco¡¯s robes. ¡°What are you going to do, wipe your tears and snot on us?¡±


    Draco, humiliated and enraged, turned to insult the Weasley family.


    Before he could utter a word, Harry raised his wand, his voice icy. ¡°You really should clean that dirty mouth of yours. Scourgify!¡±


    Foamy pink soap bubbles erupted from Draco¡¯s mouth. Spluttering and gagging, he clawed at the air in vain.


    ¡°Potter!¡±


    Professor McGonagall¡¯s sharp voice sliced through the commotion. The crowd of students parted to reveal Harry standing over Draco.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± McGonagall demanded, her gaze piercing as she cast a counter-spell to free Draco.


    ¡°Nothing, Professor,¡± Harry said innocently. ¡°Malfoy¡¯s broom malfunctioned. I saved him, but he accidentally ate some dirt, so I thought I¡¯d help him clean up.¡±


    McGonagall¡¯s expression tightened. ¡°You¡¯re fortunate it was me and not Professor Snape who caught you,¡± she said sternly before motioning to Harry. ¡°Follow me, Mr. Potter.¡±


    With a shrug, Harry complied, relieved it wasn¡¯t Snape who had witnessed the incident.


    As Harry walked away, Draco smirked through his lingering humiliation.


    ¡°See? Potter¡¯s getting expelled!¡± he gloated. ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡±


    Hermione scoffed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you say that to Harry¡¯s face instead of whining behind his back?¡±


    ¡°You filthy little Mudblood¡ª¡± Draco began, only to find his mouth filled with soap bubbles again.


    ¡°That spell really does work wonders on dirty mouths,¡± Hermione said coolly, lowering her wand.


    Before Pansy Parkinson could retaliate, Madam Hooch arrived to diffuse the tension.


    Meanwhile, Harry followed McGonagall into the castle, wondering what awaited him. Expulsion seemed unlikely¡ªhe had saved Draco, after all.


    Stopping outside a classroom door, McGonagall turned to address someone inside.


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt, Filius,¡± she said. ¡°May I borrow Wood for a moment?¡±


    Wood? Harry frowned in confusion. Was she planning to punish him with a wooden cane?


    To Harry¡¯s surprise, a tall, athletic boy stepped out, looking equally puzzled.


    ¡°Wood,¡± McGonagall said, her tone uncharacteristically warm, ¡°I¡¯ve found you a Seeker.¡±


    ------


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 Chapter 34: The Philosophers Stone

    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    That afternoon, the news of Harry being specially recruited onto his house Quidditch team spread like wildfire throughout the school.


    Even the ghosts floating through the halls were gossiping about it, let alone the students.


    ¡°A Seeker?¡± Ron exclaimed, so astonished he forgot to shove a pie into his mouth. ¡°But first-years never¡ª You must be the youngest player on a house team in years!¡±


    ¡°A century, actually,¡± Harry replied with a grin. ¡°That¡¯s what Wood told me.¡±


    In his six years at his previous school, Harry hadn¡¯t even been allowed to watch an in-school Quidditch match, let alone participate.


    Apparently, a few years ago, a student had fallen off a broom, giving Headmaster Black the perfect excuse to ban all Quidditch games on campus.


    The students cursed him behind his back, and even the ghosts composed a song to sarcastically "celebrate" Headmaster Black¡¯s so-called ¡°great achievements.¡±


    Ron nodded sagely. After all, catching the ball was no small feat¡ªit also involved dragging a heavy Malfoy along with it.


    ¡°I start training next week,¡± Harry said, raising his glass of pumpkin juice to clink with Ron¡¯s. ¡°By the way, after I left, did Malfoy say anything?¡±


    ¡°Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood, but she cleaned his mouth out with Scourgify, just like you did,¡± Ron said, grinning widely.


    At that moment, Fred and George Weasley strode into the dining hall. Spotting Harry, they hurried over.


    ¡°Well done, Harry,¡± George said in a low voice. ¡°Wood told us. We¡¯re on the house team too¡ªas Beaters. Our job is to make sure you don¡¯t get hit too badly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you this,¡± Fred said confidently. ¡°We¡¯re taking the Quidditch Cup this year. Ever since Charlie left, we haven¡¯t won. But this year, our team¡¯s going to shine. You¡¯ll be brilliant, Harry. When Wood told us, he was so excited he could barely speak. And you know how strict he is about Quidditch¡ªlike a miniature Professor McGonagall. We trust his judgment.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯ve got to run. Lee Jordan thinks he¡¯s found a new secret passage out of the school.¡±


    ¡°I bet it¡¯s the one behind Gregory the Smarmy¡¯s statue,¡± George added. ¡°We found that one in our first week here¡ªsee you!¡±


    ¡°Honestly,¡± Harry said to Ron as the twins left, ¡°I¡¯ve known them for so long, but I still can¡¯t tell which one is Fred and which one is George.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Honestly? Me neither,¡± Ron admitted, spreading his hands.


    Hermione sat down just then, carrying a thick, ancient book nearly as large as her torso.


    ¡°What on earth is that?¡± Ron asked, staring in disbelief.


    ¡°Something to pass the time after meals,¡± Hermione said, slamming the book onto the table.


    ¡°You call that ¡®passing the time¡¯?¡± Ron asked dryly.


    Hermione shot him a severe look, and Ron wisely closed his mouth.


    ¡°Honestly,¡± Ron muttered, glancing toward Draco Malfoy, who was chatting and laughing with Crabbe and Goyle. ¡°Didn¡¯t the flying lesson teach him enough? I think Malfoy needs another good scare.¡±


    Hearing Malfoy¡¯s name soured Harry¡¯s mood instantly.


    If Cassandra knew her descendant was such a git, she¡¯d probably cast an Unforgivable Curse on him right then and there.


    The thought darkened Harry¡¯s mood further as he brooded over the still-inaccessible Map Chamber.


    He was certain it held important clues, but how could he access it? At only eleven years old, was he really expected to wait four more years, until he turned fifteen and awakened his ancient magic?


    ¡°Look at this,¡± Ron said, picking up a nearby newspaper. ¡°The Daily Prophet is still printing statements from the Gringotts goblins. They keep insisting Gringotts is the safest place.¡±


    Gringotts?


    Harry¡¯s thoughts flew to his trip with Hagrid to retrieve that tiny bundle¡ªan object that radiated ancient magic.


    His instincts told him that with that item, the age limit on ancient magic could be bypassed.


    But the dilemma remained: it was Dumbledore¡¯s possession, clearly valuable. How could he persuade the headmaster to lend it to him?


    -----


    The next morning, as Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall and sat down, the mail owls swooped in.


    Harry noticed four or five owls carrying a long, thin package. They circled briefly before landing in front of him.


    ¡°Oh no, my chicken leg!¡± Ron exclaimed in dismay as the package knocked his food to the ground.


    But his attention quickly shifted to the intriguing package.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°Mate, open it for me while I read this letter,¡± Harry said.


    Unfolding the letter, Harry read:


    ¡°Do not open the package on the table. Inside is your new broomstick¡ªa Nimbus 2000. I don¡¯t want others knowing you¡¯ve got it, lest they all start demanding one.


    Oliver Wood will meet you at the Quidditch pitch at 7 p.m. tonight for your first training session.


    ¡ªProfessor Minerva McGonagall.¡±


    Harry lowered the letter, intending to stop Ron, but it was too late.


    Ron had already unwrapped the package, revealing a brand-new Nimbus 2000.


    ¡°Whoa, mate!¡± Ron gasped in amazement. ¡°Did you buy this?¡±


    Beside them, Wood stared, his face filled with envy.


    Of course, Wood guessed it was a gift from Professor McGonagall, but he couldn¡¯t say much. Harry was a Seeker, after all¡ªa position demanding speed and top-notch broomstick performance. Plus, Harry¡¯s family didn¡¯t seem particularly well-off.


    Still, Wood couldn¡¯t help but feel envious. Harry was only in his first year, meaning he¡¯d get to use the Nimbus 2000 for at least seven years!


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to meet me for training tonight,¡± Wood said, composing himself. ¡°McGonagall told me to start your emergency training right away so we can crush Slytherin in the next match. She must¡¯ve told you about last year¡ªafter we lost badly to Slytherin, she avoided Professor Snape for weeks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± Harry promised earnestly.


    Looking back on his years at his previous school, what he had yearned for most was the chance to play Quidditch, banned under Headmaster Black¡¯s rule.


    Black, you ruin everything!


    ------


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 Chapter 35: Sadness and Death

    Due to Headmaster Black''s ban, Harry didn¡¯t know much about Quidditch. Naturally, he was eagerly looking forward to Wood''s lessons.


    After Wood delivered a lengthy and somewhat disorganized introduction to Quidditch, Harry suddenly asked, "So, has anyone ever died during a match? I mean, considering how high we fly and how often we dodge Bludgers..."


    "How could that happen?" Wood replied, looking genuinely surprised. "The worst you might get is a broken jaw or a fractured limb. Even if you fall off, the field is enchanted with protective spells to ensure safety¡ªyou definitely won¡¯t die."


    Harry was now convinced¡ªthis was all part of Black¡¯s conspiracy.


    When Harry demonstrated a sudden dive-stop and a series of high-level maneuvers, Wood¡¯s expression shifted. What started as doubt about Harry¡¯s flying abilities quickly turned into admiration, and finally, outright confidence.


    "This year¡¯s Quidditch Cup is as good as ours," Wood said excitedly. "You know, I once saw your dad¡¯s name on the Quidditch trophy¡ªJames Potter, right? He was a Chaser for Gryffindor."


    "I heard from Hagrid that my dad was excellent at Quidditch," Harry replied, his tone brightening.


    "Exactly! Flying talent runs in your blood," Wood said confidently. "Now, let¡¯s have our young Mr. Potter lead us to victory!"


    Although Wood only taught Harry the rules of Quidditch, he didn¡¯t insist on Harry attending extra training sessions. To Wood, Harry¡¯s talent was so innate that he probably had been flying a broomstick around the yard before he could even walk.


    With Hogwarts¡¯ schedule not being overly demanding, Harry often found time to relax. However, no class bored him more than Professor Quirrell¡¯s stammering, unfocused Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.


    This is the worst professor ever, Harry thought.


    Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Harry absentmindedly chewed on his sandwich, his thoughts drifting to a plan to explore the dungeons beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom during his free time.


    While he was lost in thought, Hermione suddenly let out an excited exclamation.


    "Oh my goodness, Harry, Ron!"


    She looked as though she had just discovered a new continent. Grabbing both boys, she slammed her small hand onto a thick book.


    "What is it?" Ron asked, confused.


    Could there be treasure hidden in the book? Otherwise, why would Hermione look so shocked and excited?If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Ever since Hagrid mentioned it, I¡¯ve been searching for over half a month!" Hermione whispered, her voice brimming with excitement. Her hand pressed firmly on the book as if it might vanish. "Look, I finally found it¡ªan article about Harry Potter¡¯s achievements. Let me see¡­ Ron, Gareth Weasley¡ªwho is he to you?"


    "My great-grandfather," Ron said with a shrug.


    Harry, who had been indifferent to Hermione¡¯s discovery, suddenly looked up.


    Good girl, you¡¯re just in time.


    "Your great-grandfather? Ronald¡­" Hermione¡¯s eyes widened. "You never told us you had such an amazing great-grandfather!"


    "I don¡¯t really know much about him," Ron said, spreading his hands helplessly.


    Hermione gave Ron a subtle look of disapproval and resumed poring over the article.


    Harry wanted to ask about Gareth¡¯s story but hesitated. He wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know¡ªit might be something he¡¯d rather not hear.


    "Look at this, Harry," Hermione said with a grin, pointing to a passage. "I finally understand why Peeves is so scared of you! He must think you¡¯re that Harry! See, he created a spell specifically to deal with Peeves¡ª"


    "How do you know Peeves is scared of Harry?" Ron asked, curious.


    "Isn¡¯t it obvious, Ron?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Haven¡¯t you noticed that whenever we¡¯re with Harry, Peeves never messes with us? And on the first day of school, when Harry pointed his wand at Peeves, the guy fled in a panic. He must have mistaken Harry for someone else!"


    "Cool," Ron said, intrigued. "Can you find out what that spell is? If we learn it, we¡¯ll never have to worry about Peeves again."


    "I¡¯ll figure it out," Hermione said determinedly, her expression like a knight atop a dragon¡¯s peak.


    Harry opened his mouth¡ªhe actually knew the spell and wanted to tell her.


    "He was incredible," Hermione marveled, still reading. "It says here he invented that spell in his third year. Goodness, I can barely manage to learn charms now!"


    "See if there¡¯s more," Ron urged, crawling under the table to sit closer to Hermione.


    "Here, look," Hermione pointed to another section. "I never would have guessed, Ron. Your ancestor¡ªa Weasley¡ªwas good friends with the Malfoys¡¯ ancestor? They were comrades against the Ash Serpent Order¡­"


    "Impossible!" Ron¡¯s face turned crimson. "My great-grandfather couldn¡¯t have had anything to do with the Malfoys! Don¡¯t make things up!"


    "See for yourself!" Hermione said quietly, shoving the book toward Ron and pointing to the passage. "Gareth Weasley, Poppy Switting, Cassandra Malfoy¡ªthey were all comrades of that Harry, fighting the Ash Serpent Order and quelling the Goblin Rebellion¡­"


    Ron leaned in, and to his dismay, the words were exactly as Hermione had said.


    His face grew even redder as he muttered, insisting the article must be wrong. "How could a Weasley ever be friends with a Malfoy?"


    "Do you think history books lie?" Hermione squinted at him.


    "Well, I don¡¯t believe it," Ron said stubbornly.


    As the two continued their debate, Harry suddenly said, "Why not ask the person involved? I mean, your great-grandfather, Gareth Weasley."


    "My great-grandfather passed away before I was born," Ron said softly. "Even Bill and Charlie never met him. He didn¡¯t even leave a portrait."


    "I¡¯m sorry, Ron," Harry murmured, feeling a pang in his chest.


    So Gareth was gone? Then¡­


    Would Sebastian and Ominis also be gone?


    What about Cassandra and Veratia¡ªcould they¡­


    Harry¡¯s thoughts spiraled into chaos. The sudden realization that so many of his old friends might no longer be alive weighed heavily on him, leaving him in a dark and somber mood.


    ------


    Thanks so much For Who Give Power Stone


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 Chapter 36: Troll

    Harry couldn¡¯t quite remember how he had made his way back to the dormitory. All he could recall was Ron and Hermione having a brief spat afterward.


    He sat by the dormitory window, hugging his knees, staring blankly at the scene outside.


    Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow and stretching Harry¡¯s shadow long across the floor.


    "Harry?" Ron¡¯s concerned voice broke the silence. Ever since they had returned, Harry had been distant, responding with little more than distracted hums. His unusual behavior was beginning to worry Ron deeply.


    Snapping out of his daze, Harry turned to Ron and offered a faint, apologetic smile.


    "Fancy a game of Wizard¡¯s Chess, mate?" Ron asked, holding up the chessboard. "I know you¡¯re upset, but Hermione didn¡¯t mean anything by it. She¡¯s just curious about that guy with the same name as yours. That¡¯s why she¡¯s been reading all those books. She didn¡¯t mean to bring up You-Know-Who. It¡¯s not like she could¡¯ve known what would be in the next chapter..."


    "I know, Ron." Harry nodded, though his thoughts remained tangled.


    "How about we visit Hagrid after class tomorrow?" Ron suggested, hoping to lift his friend¡¯s spirits.


    "Maybe in a few days," Harry replied. "Tomorrow¡¯s Halloween Eve, and there¡¯s a banquet in the Great Hall."


    "Right! I heard they¡¯ll have those limited-edition pumpkin pies," Ron said, brightening. "If you like them, you can have my share."


    Harry couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. It was in this very dormitory that Gareth had once comforted him during a bout of homesickness. And now, after all these years, hearing Gareth¡¯s name again only to learn he was gone forever felt like reopening an old wound.


    Time might pass like the blink of an eye for Harry, but for his friends, it was an entire lifetime.


    "Thanks, Ron," Harry said with a forced smile. "It¡¯s getting late. We should get some sleep. Charms class first thing tomorrow."


    "Alright," Ron agreed, though the crease in his brow betrayed his lingering concern.


    <hr>


    The next morning, the Gryffindor first-years were abuzz with chatter as they gathered for breakfast.


    This year, Halloween fell on a Friday, which brought some good news: their usual double Potions class with Professor Snape was canceled.


    For Gryffindors, no Snape on a Friday was practically a reason to celebrate.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The downside, however, was that their afternoon Flying class had also been canceled due to the holiday. For many, it was one of the rare opportunities to practice flying on a broomstick.


    During breakfast, Professor Flitwick made an exciting announcement. "After weeks of practice, today we¡¯ll be learning to make objects fly!"


    "Remember, it¡¯s a swish and flick!" he squeaked, standing atop his familiar stack of books. "And enunciate clearly! Don¡¯t forget poor Baruffio, who mispronounced a simple spell and ended up with a buffalo on his chest!"


    Harry always suspected the wand movements were more about focus than necessity. With wandless magic, hand gestures weren¡¯t needed at all¡ªwhat you envisioned was what you cast.


    "Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry flicked his wand with practiced ease, effortlessly levitating the desk in front of him.


    "Wonderful, Mr. Potter! Simply marvelous!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed, hopping excitedly.


    In his excitement, however, the tiny professor lost his balance and began toppling backward.


    "Leviosa!" Harry reacted instinctively, casting a precise Levitation Charm to catch him.


    Though similar to Wingardium Leviosa, the spell was subtly different: it made objects float but didn¡¯t allow directional control.


    Floating midair, Professor Flitwick paddled his arms comically as though swimming. Beaming at Harry, he declared, "Ten points to Gryffindor! Superb work, Harry! You must¡¯ve been reading ahead in your textbook."


    "Yes, Professor," Harry replied as he gently set the professor back on solid ground.


    By the end of the lesson, only Hermione had managed to levitate her feather successfully¡ªaside from Ron, who achieved partial success.


    With Hermione¡¯s guidance, Ron managed to lift his feather briefly, but Seamus caused a distraction when his feather unexpectedly exploded, sending Ron¡¯s feather crashing back onto the desk.


    "Maybe you should focus on Exploding Charms, Seamus," Hermione suggested matter-of-factly as they walked to lunch.


    "Are you mocking me, Granger?" Seamus retorted, bristling.


    "Whoa, easy there," Ron interjected quickly, giving Seamus a friendly pat on the arm.


    "Sorry, Seamus," Hermione said hastily. "I didn¡¯t mean it like that."


    Satisfied with her apology, Seamus let the matter drop.


    <hr>


    That evening, the Great Hall was transformed for the much-anticipated Halloween feast. Bewitched bats flitted through the air, casting fleeting shadows as they swept over the tables, and massive carved pumpkins flickered with candlelight.


    "Where¡¯s Harry?" Ron asked suddenly, noticing his absence.


    "He said he was going to the restroom," Seamus replied.


    A pang of concern struck Ron. Was Harry still upset? Should he go check on him?


    I¡¯ll just eat this drumstick first, then go find him, Ron decided, eyeing the spread of food before him.


    Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open. Professor Quirrell stumbled in, his turban askew and his face a mask of terror.


    "Troll! Troll in the dungeon!" he shouted, staggering toward Dumbledore. "Thought you ought to know..." With that, he collapsed to the floor.


    For a moment, silence reigned. Then, chaos erupted as students began screaming.


    Dumbledore raised his wand, amplifying his voice. "Silence!"


    The command cut through the pandemonium like a blade.


    "Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately," he ordered, his tone calm but firm.


    Percy wasted no time. "Follow me, Gryffindors! There¡¯s no need to panic. The professors will handle the troll."


    Hermione started to follow Percy but stopped when Ron tugged at her sleeve.


    "Ron? What¡¯s wrong?" she asked.


    "It¡¯s Harry!" Ron whispered urgently. "He¡¯s still in the first-floor restroom! We¡¯ve got to warn him¡ªhe¡¯s in danger!"


    ------


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 Chapter 37: Hope Fine

    Upon hearing Ron¡¯s words, Hermione didn¡¯t hesitate for even a moment. She spun around and darted after him, weaving her way through the tide of retreating students.


    The prefects were too busy maintaining order within their Houses to notice the two first-years slipping away, heading directly toward danger.


    ¡°Oh no, I hope Harry¡¯s okay,¡± Hermione said, her voice trembling with worry.


    ¡°How could he not be?¡± Ron replied, trying to sound confident, though his tone betrayed a hint of doubt. ¡°He¡¯s the Boy Who Lived! Even You-Know-Who couldn¡¯t take him down¡ªwhat¡¯s a troll compared to that?¡±


    Despite his bravado, Ron couldn¡¯t shake a nagging sense of unease. Trolls were legendary for their toughness. With their granite-like skin and resistance to most spells, they were formidable even for experienced wizards. For a first-year to stand a chance against one was¡­ well, absurd.


    Merlin¡¯s socks, Ron thought desperately, please let Harry be alright! I¡¯ll give up chicken legs for a whole year if it means he¡¯s safe!


    Meanwhile, the subject of their concern¡ªHarry¡ªwas in the middle of fastening his trousers.


    His original plan had been simple: use the chaos of the Halloween feast as a cover to sneak into the dungeon beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The noise and bustle made it easy to slip away unnoticed. And his excuse was perfectly plausible¡ªhe genuinely did need the bathroom.


    As Harry adjusted his robes, however, an unusual sound caught his attention. Heavy thud, thud, thud footsteps echoed ominously from the corridor outside, accompanied by a stench so vile it made his nose wrinkle instinctively.


    The source of the disturbance became evident almost immediately.


    No doubt about it¡ªa troll.


    Cautiously, Harry pushed open the stall door and peeked out, just in time to lock eyes with the intruder.


    Standing in the doorway was a towering behemoth, easily twelve feet tall. Its mottled gray skin looked as tough as rock, its tiny head perched incongruously atop a hulking frame. In one massive hand, it dragged a wooden club that was thicker and taller than Harry himself.


    The troll paused, its pea-sized brain struggling to comprehend the sight of a lone human before it. Realizing its obvious size advantage, it let out a guttural roar meant to intimidate.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Harry¡¯s response was far from what the troll had expected. Instead of fleeing, Harry grimaced.


    ¡°Ugh, its breath stinks,¡± he muttered under his breath, recoiling slightly.


    The troll, despite its dim intelligence, seemed to pick up on Harry¡¯s expression of disdain. Enraged, it roared again, eyes blazing with fury. But even as it prepared to strike, it hesitated. There was something unsettling about the boy standing before it, seemingly unafraid.


    Harry¡¯s lack of fear wasn¡¯t born of courage. He was angry. Deeply, profoundly angry. The events of the previous day¡ªthe loss of someone dear¡ªhad left him seething. All he¡¯d wanted was to distract himself with a quiet investigation. Now, this lumbering oaf had ruined everything. Worse, the commotion was bound to draw the professors, dashing his hopes of sneaking away unnoticed.


    The troll raised its enormous club, its lips curling in a grotesque semblance of a grin.


    But Harry mirrored that grin, his emerald eyes flashing with something darker.


    Perfect, he thought grimly. I needed to blow off some steam. And here comes a punching bag, delivered right to me.


    Sensing danger, the troll hesitated. But before it could act, Harry¡¯s wand was already raised.


    ¡°Expelliarmus!¡±


    A jet of red light struck the troll¡¯s arm, sending its massive club flying. The weapon didn¡¯t hit the ground, though¡ªHarry¡¯s wand flicked expertly, suspending the club mid-air.


    ¡°Not so tough without your stick, are you?¡± Harry taunted.


    As the troll bellowed in rage, Harry gagged, unable to ignore the stench that filled the room. Muttering a transfiguration spell, he turned a broken stall door into heavy iron shackles that clamped tightly around the troll¡¯s ankles.


    ¡°Hey, big guy!¡± Harry called out mockingly, drawing the troll¡¯s gaze. As it turned toward him, Harry waved his wand, sending the floating club crashing into the troll¡¯s shoulder with a deafening wham.


    The creature howled in pain, staggering as Harry continued the assault. Each blow was deliberate, avoiding vital areas but delivering enough force to leave the troll reeling.


    The shackles around its ankles disrupted its balance, and with a resounding crash, the troll toppled to the floor. It groaned pitifully, struggling to rise, but Harry wasn¡¯t finished.


    For Harry, this wasn¡¯t just about venting anymore. The troll had attacked him first, and in his mind, he was entirely justified in defending himself. Surely, no one could fault him for that.


    The troll, meanwhile, was overwhelmed with regret. What had possessed it to wander into this building? Why had it confronted this deceptively small but terrifyingly dangerous human? It could only wail in agony, its cries tinged with despair.


    Outside, Ron and Hermione reached the bathroom door, their hearts racing.


    ¡°What if it¡¯s hurting Harry right now?¡± Hermione whispered, her voice breaking.


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡ªit can¡¯t be!¡± Ron insisted, though his trembling hands betrayed his fear.


    The muffled sounds of blows and anguished howls seeped through the door. Ron gulped audibly.


    ¡°Is¡­ is this the right room?¡± he asked nervously.


    Hermione, pale but determined, whispered, ¡°Let¡¯s open it quietly. If the troll¡¯s just smashing the place up, we don¡¯t want to provoke it.¡±


    Nodding, Ron pushed the door open a crack.


    What they saw inside rendered them utterly speechless¡ªa sight so surreal it would haunt their memories forever.


    ------


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 Chapter 38: Hogwarts Is About to Become the Laughingstock of the Wizarding World

    Appearing before Ron and Hermione was a troll sprawled on the ground, clutching its body.


    Ron now understood why the troll had been howling in frustration¡ªit was in pain.


    Above the troll, a massive wooden club floated in mid-air.


    "Hi," Harry greeted, noticing his two companions pushing open the door.


    At the same time, he gave a gentle wave of his wand with minimal movement. The wooden club slammed heavily onto the troll¡¯s head.


    The troll only managed a muffled grunt before collapsing unconscious.


    ¡°My Merlin¡¯s beard¡­,¡± Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide in astonishment. ¡°Harry, you¡ªyou defeated a troll!¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Harry said casually, stuffing his wand back into his pocket. He deflected the praise with a question, ¡°Why are you two here?¡±


    ¡°Professor Quirrell said there¡¯s a troll in the dungeons. Ron remembered you went to the bathroom and hadn¡¯t returned, so he dragged me along to warn you about the danger,¡± Hermione rattled off quickly. She glanced at the troll again and added, ¡°But now it seems the danger wasn¡¯t really the troll.¡±


    Harry felt a wave of emotion rise in his heart. He hadn¡¯t expected that, knowing there was a troll on the loose, his two friends would risk their lives to come warn him.


    How Gryffindor of them, he thought.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Harry said sincerely. ¡°Ron, Hermione¡­¡±


    Before he could finish, there was a sudden loud banging on the door and the sound of hurried footsteps. The three of them turned to look at the entrance.


    Moments later, Professor McGonagall burst into the room, followed closely by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear.


    Quirrell took one glance at the unconscious troll and let out a feeble sob before sitting down on a toilet and clutching his chest tightly.


    Harry turned his head away, hiding a faint sense of disdain.


    So pathetic, he thought. A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor behaving like this?


    At this rate, Hogwarts would become a laughingstock in the wizarding world.


    ¡°What on earth are you playing at?¡± Professor McGonagall demanded, her voice icy with anger.


    Her stern gaze swept over the trio before settling on the unconscious troll sprawled on the floor. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you weren¡¯t killed by it¡ªwhy weren¡¯t you in your dormitories as you should have been?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Professor,¡± Harry stepped forward and explained, ¡°They were looking for me. I had a stomachache after class and went to the bathroom. I didn¡¯t expect the troll to come in. They knew I was here, so they came to warn me about the danger.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Professor McGonagall¡¯s severe expression softened.


    Given the circumstances, Harry couldn¡¯t really be blamed.


    Taking responsibility and stepping up like this¡­


    She thought fondly, This boy is just like Lily.


    ¡°With Ron and Hermione¡¯s help, we managed to defeat the troll together,¡± Harry added.


    He decided not to stand out too much¡ªafter all, a first-year student defeating a troll single-handedly would be too shocking.


    Hearing Harry¡¯s words, Hermione discreetly pinched Ron, then struck a confident pose as if it were all true.


    Ron nodded along, as if he had played a crucial role in defeating the troll.


    ¡°Impressive Transfiguration,¡± Professor McGonagall noted, her eyes landing on the shackles binding the troll¡¯s feet. She nodded approvingly at Harry and then glanced at Ron and Hermione.


    ¡°Breaking the rules, leaving your dormitory without permission¡ªMr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Gryffindor will lose five points each for your actions,¡± she said sternly.


    Hermione hung her head, not expecting Professor McGonagall to be so unrelenting.


    Ron, too, looked disgruntled. By Merlin¡¯s beard, he thought, Why can¡¯t our head of house be as biased as the Slytherin one?


    But then Professor McGonagall continued, ¡°However, for risking your lives to help a friend, Gryffindor will gain ten points.¡±


    At her words, both of them looked up in surprise, seeing their professor offer them a rare smile.


    Finally, Professor McGonagall concluded, ¡°Well, you¡¯re lucky. Very few first-year students could face a fully-grown troll and come out victorious. Each of you has earned Gryffindor five points. I¡¯ll inform Professor Dumbledore of this. You may leave now.¡±


    ¡°Off you go, off you go,¡± Professor Quirrell said nervously, getting up from the toilet. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯ll handle the bathroom¡­ Don¡¯t¡ªdon¡¯t worry.¡±


    Just as he finished speaking, the troll let out a loud snore in its sleep.


    Professor Quirrell jumped in fright, instinctively leaping into the air.


    Harry paid no attention to him. He had noticed that from the moment they entered the room, Professor Snape had been staring at him intently.


    He didn¡¯t think much of it¡ªhe felt no hostility towards Snape and believed the feeling was mutual.


    He¡¯s a good friend of my parents, Harry thought.


    On their way back, Harry stopped on the second floor and turned to his friends. ¡°Thank you for today.¡±


    Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, then smiled warmly at him.


    ¡°Why thank us?¡± Ron said with a big grin. ¡°That¡¯s just what friends do.¡±


    Harry froze.


    He had always regarded Hermione as a classmate he got along with.


    And Ron¡ªhe had always treated Ron kindly because he was the descendant of an old friend.


    But today, his two companions had risked their lives to warn him. How could he not be moved?


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯re friends,¡± Harry nodded firmly, opening his arms to hug Hermione and then Ron.


    He accepted them as friends.


    Perhaps it was time for a fresh start, he thought. In addition to old friends, he should also embrace new ones.


    ¡°So, Harry,¡± Hermione suddenly asked, ¡°why did you tell Professor McGonagall it was the three of us who defeated the troll?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I just didn¡¯t want to draw too much attention,¡± Harry said, a little troubled. ¡°You know, they already call me the Boy Who Lived. If word got out that I defeated a troll on my own, I¡¯d end up being surrounded like some zoo animal again.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Hermione nodded in understanding, accepting his explanation.


    ¡°By the way, mate,¡± Ron said, slinging an arm around Harry¡¯s shoulder, ¡°how exactly did you beat that troll? That was seriously cool.¡±


    ¡°It was just a combination of a few spells,¡± Harry said to Ron. ¡°I¡¯ve read some books on dueling techniques in my spare time. I just used some of what I learned, and it worked pretty well¡ªyou want to try learning it together?¡±


    He thought of the useless Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.


    Even in this era, Dark Wizards hadn¡¯t disappeared entirely. Harry didn¡¯t think the class would teach them much about defense.


    In that case, why not revive the concept of Duelling?


    And perhaps¡­ it could start with these two friends, he thought.


    ------


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 Chapter 39: Cassandras Letter

    ¡°Cool!¡± Ron¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Can I?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Harry shrugged.


    Children at this age are always easily influenced by those around them.


    Under Harry and Hermione¡¯s subtle guidance, Ron had gradually shed the rebellious attitude he¡¯d shown at the start of the term.


    For a young wizard like Ron, studying Potions or Transfiguration might not spark much interest¡ªbut learning some minor curses? That was a whole different story.


    Just imagine casting a few clever curses at Malfoy¡¯s smug face. How satisfying would that be?


    ¡°But we¡¯ll need a suitable place to practice spells,¡± Hermione said with a touch of concern. ¡°The Gryffindor common room doesn¡¯t allow magic¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it covered,¡± Harry assured her.


    The next day, Harry decided to investigate the dungeon, careful not to draw any attention.


    Ron and Hermione provided perfect excuses¡ªfinding a proper place to practice spells. Taking advantage of their classmates being occupied at the banquet in the Great Hall, Harry quietly made his way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and located the dungeon entrance.


    The entrance resembled a cabinet with four clock-like dials on the door. To pass through, the dials had to be aligned in specific directions.


    Drawing his wand, Harry adjusted the dials, following the method Sebastian had taught him.


    When the last pointer clicked into place, the door swung open with a loud creak, revealing the dungeon beyond.


    Harry stepped inside, momentarily disoriented by the familiar sensation of dizziness, and surveyed the space.


    The dungeon, Harry thought, seemed untouched for years. Thick layers of dust coated every surface, and the air was heavy and stale.


    Wrapping a scarf around his nose to avoid breathing in the stirred-up dust, Harry refrained from using a Cleaning Charm. He didn¡¯t want to risk erasing potential clues during the cleanup.


    The dungeon earned its name¡ªit lay at the very base of the Defense Tower, with only faint shafts of light filtering in through the skylight above.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Taking out his wand, Harry lit the braziers and torches, illuminating the dark chamber.


    He approached a nearby desk, brushing aside the thick dust with his wand. To his surprise, he discovered a letter, its handwriting unmistakably Cassandra¡¯s.


    Excitement flickered as he picked it up, but the passage of time had blurred much of the writing. With careful effort, Harry managed to decipher it:


    <blockquote>


    ¡°I think Veratia Grindelwald is truly insane. Time is forbidden magic, something even Merlin dared not tamper with. When she emerges from that so-called ¡®Love Shack¡¯ with Potter, I hope you can dissuade her. Ancient magic isn¡¯t omnipotent.


    ¡ª C.C. Malfoy¡±


    </blockquote>


    Harry¡¯s heart raced.


    Time magic?


    Could it be that Veratia had attempted to use time magic to find him after his disappearance?


    If Cassandra was correct, Veratia had likely failed¡ªwith grave consequences.


    This would explain why the name of Gellert Grindelwald had echoed through history, while no word of his sister ever emerged. Veratia, with her unwavering loyalty to family, wouldn¡¯t have abandoned them willingly.


    Could she have been trapped somewhere?


    Harry¡¯s mind lingered on Cassandra¡¯s biting remark. The ¡°Love Shack¡± was her nickname for the Chamber of Secrets, as only inheritors of ancient magic could freely enter.


    Pocketing the letter, Harry¡¯s determination hardened. He needed to uncover the truth and harness the artifact within the Chamber to awaken ancient magic. Perhaps he could even approach the headmaster for help.


    For now, Harry set the matter aside. Among the dungeon¡¯s contents, he found several thick books on dueling techniques, which he tucked into a pocket enchanted with a Disillusionment Charm before slipping out unnoticed.


    Returning to Gryffindor Tower, he placed the books in front of Hermione, who was meticulously reviewing Ron¡¯s homework.


    ¡°You made another mistake here,¡± Hermione corrected, pointing at Ron¡¯s parchment with a teacher-like precision.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ron muttered, looking sheepish.


    Noticing Harry¡¯s return, Ron quickly switched the topic.


    ¡°Harry! You¡¯re back! Did you find anything?¡ªOh, and Hermione checked your homework and marked the mistakes. It¡¯s over there.¡±


    Harry glanced in the direction Ron indicated, spotting his own work with neat red marks. He and Ron had convinced Hermione to review their homework, but Hermione had flatly refused to let Ron copy hers.


    ¡°Harry, you only have a few gaps in your History of Magic essay,¡± Hermione said sharply, before turning to Ron with a glare. ¡°And you, Ronald! Look at your mistakes! How many times have I told you? It¡¯s ¡®Leviosa,¡¯ not ¡®Levio-sar!¡¯¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ron muttered again, puffing out his cheeks in frustration.


    ¡°I found it,¡± Harry said, steering the conversation away from Ron¡¯s blunders. ¡°We¡¯ll head there later. Look at these books I found.¡±


    ¡°Dueling Strategies of the 19th Century, Harmless Little Curses¡­¡± Hermione¡¯s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she examined the titles. ¡°Good heavens, Harry, these aren¡¯t in the library!¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± Harry asked instinctively.


    Hermione shot him a pointed look, and he understood¡ªnever question the overachievers.


    She opened Harmless Little Curses, her expression curious. A moment later, she slammed it shut, her face pale as if she¡¯d seen a ghost.


    ¡°Good heavens, you call these ¡®Harmless Little Curses¡¯?!¡± she hissed.


    ------


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 Chapter 40: Potions Detention

    Harry hadn¡¯t read the book and had no idea what it was about.


    However, judging by Hermione¡¯s expression, he could tell that the curse mentioned in it was likely... something terrible.


    "Where did you even find that book?" Hermione exclaimed, clearly unsettled. Rolling her eyes, she added with a touch of exasperation, "Honestly, I¡¯m terrified this book will get us all thrown into Azkaban..."


    "Correction," Ron interjected, raising his hand theatrically. "You¡¯re a witch now. God won¡¯t save you. He¡¯d probably watch you turn into a human torch¡ª"


    Hermione shot him a venomous glare.


    "Uh, what¡¯s wrong with the book?" Harry asked cautiously.


    "Do you know what the very first curse in this book is?" Hermione hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening before continuing in a harsh whisper, "It¡¯s the Imperius Curse! Controlling someone¡¯s soul! Who in their right mind calls that harmless?"


    Harry suddenly remembered¡ªit was the book Sebastian had stolen from the Gaunt family.


    Well... that actually made sense. Considering the Gaunt family¡¯s twisted tradition of forcing their children to use the Cruciatus Curse on Muggle kids, it wasn¡¯t surprising they¡¯d see soul manipulation as a minor spell.


    "This must be a Gaunt family heirloom," Harry said without hesitation, throwing his friend under the bus. "When I took it, I noticed a name on the side¡ªsomething like Ominis Gaunt."


    "Oh, well, if it¡¯s from the Gaunts, that explains everything," Ron chimed in. "The Gaunt family¡¯s descended from Salazar Slytherin, and Slytherin himself was a dark wizard."


    "One of Hogwarts'' founders?" Hermione asked, looking genuinely shocked. "Mr. Slytherin was a dark wizard? How is that possible?"


    Harry didn¡¯t argue. After all, he¡¯d seen Salazar Slytherin¡¯s notes in the Chamber of Secrets before, and they weren¡¯t exactly the writings of a saint.


    Ron shrugged nonchalantly, deciding to leave it at that.


    "This book is off-limits from now on!" Hermione declared firmly, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I don¡¯t want to get implicated in one of these so-called ''minor'' curses and end up in Azkaban¡ªor worse, expelled from school!"


    "You really don¡¯t know which one¡¯s worse, do you?" Ron teased with a sly grin, earning himself another withering glare.


    <hr>


    By November, the weather had grown bitterly cold.


    In the Scottish Highlands, even with the moderating effect of the North Atlantic Current, the high latitude gave the climate a chill comparable to Moscow¡¯s.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The mountains surrounding the school were cloaked in mist and snow. The lake¡¯s surface was frozen over with a thick layer of ice, cold and hard as tempered steel.


    Each morning, frost blanketed the grounds.


    From the upper-floor windows, they could see Hagrid out on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a mole-fur coat, rabbit-fur gloves, and massive beaver-fur boots, de-icing the brooms.


    For some reason, Hermione seemed more nervous about Harry¡¯s first Quidditch match than he was. Ron was the same.


    Ron spent his days obsessively oiling Harry¡¯s broomstick, while Hermione borrowed Quidditch Through the Ages from the library and insisted Harry read up on the rules.


    The biting cold prompted Hermione to conjure several handfuls of blue flames that could be stored in jam jars and carried around. She handed them out generously¡ªnot just to Harry and Ron, but to Seamus and Neville as well.


    Seamus, who had long since let go of any grudges, was so grateful for the portable fire that he half-jokingly called Hermione ¡°Mum.¡±


    <hr>


    On Friday, during Potions class, Harry absentmindedly brought Quidditch Through the Ages with him to the dungeon.


    Snape, as usual, hovered close, scrutinizing Harry¡¯s every move as he worked on his potion.


    When Harry successfully brewed a flawless draught of Living Death, Snape let out a nasal "hmmph."


    It was impossible to tell if he was pleased or irritated, so Harry decided to chalk it up to Snape¡¯s typical Slytherin habit of being inscrutable.


    But Snape¡¯s attention soon shifted to the book on Harry¡¯s desk. Picking it up with alarming speed, he glanced at the title page before sneering.


    "Well, well, Potter," Snape drawled, looming over him. "Bringing unrelated books into Potions class? Ten points from Gryffindor. And you¡¯ll be serving detention in my office every Wednesday and Saturday evening."


    Harry gaped at him, stunned. Losing points over a Quidditch book? That was new¡ªeven for Snape.


    After class, Ron and Hermione caught up to him.


    "Harry," Ron said in a hushed tone, "did you notice Snape¡¯s limping? Looks like he¡¯s injured."


    "Now that you mention it, yeah," Harry replied, recalling Snape¡¯s uneven gait. One moment he appeared taller, the next shorter.


    "Still, I need to get that book back," Harry said with determination.


    "You¡¯re mad," Hermione and Ron said in unison.


    But Harry didn¡¯t think so. He was convinced that deep down, Snape didn¡¯t really hate him. Dislike? Maybe. But hate? Impossible. His parents¡¯ friend couldn¡¯t possibly despise him. Snape probably just had an issue with Gryffindor as a whole.


    With this comforting thought, Harry headed for the staff lounge, hoping to get lucky.


    Knocking softly on the door and hearing no response, he peeked inside. The room was empty except for Snape and Filch. Snape had lifted his robes, exposing his leg.


    Harry froze, shocked. Snape¡¯s leg was covered in fresh wounds, blood oozing from gaping cuts deep enough to expose the muscle.


    "Professor, this..." Filch muttered, handing Snape a bandage.


    "Bloody thing," Snape growled. "How does anyone manage to keep an eye on three heads at once?"


    Three heads?


    Harry frowned. Could Snape¡¯s injury be tied to some kind of three-headed creature?


    Before he could think further, a sharp voice startled him.


    "Potter!"


    Harry looked up, meeting Snape¡¯s furious glare as the man hastily let his robes fall back into place.


    "Sorry, Professor," Harry said quickly. "I just came to ask if I could have my book back?"


    "Get out!" Snape bellowed, pointing at the door.


    Harry didn¡¯t need telling twice. He bolted, silently relieved that Snape hadn¡¯t docked more points from Gryffindor.


    Still... what kind of creature had injured Snape?


    Determined to find out, Harry decided to pay Hagrid a visit. If anyone knew about magical creatures, it was Hagrid.


    ------


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 Chapter 41: Who plays Quidditch without armor?

    Harry wasn¡¯t in a rush to find Hagrid. After all, the Quidditch match was just around the corner.


    For years, he¡¯d only heard about Quidditch but had never had the chance to play it himself.


    Blame Black! Harry thought. But thanks to Hogwarts, he could finally fulfill his dream.


    The next day dawned sunny and cold. Despite the bright sunlight, the chill in the air lingered, untouched by the sun¡¯s warmth.


    Harry grabbed a plate of roasted sausages and a serving of baked beans in tomato sauce. Sitting at the Gryffindor table, he ate slowly and gracefully.


    Classic English breakfast¡ªsimple yet satisfying.


    ¡°Have you noticed? No matter when, Harry always eats so elegantly,¡± Neville said, his voice tinged with admiration.


    Harry smiled and nodded at Neville, thinking, Wait until you get beaten with a stick for holding your fork wrong. Then you¡¯ll understand the importance of elegance.


    At that moment, the chatter at the Gryffindor table fell silent.


    Because Snape had arrived.


    Harry didn¡¯t know when Snape had drifted over to him, but by the time he looked up, the Potions Master was already standing there, peering down at him with that familiar disdain.


    ¡°Good luck, Potter,¡± Snape said with a forced smile. ¡°Since you managed to handle a troll, surely a little Quidditch match should be no problem, even if your opponent is Slytherin.¡±


    With that, Snape slapped a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages onto the table beside Harry.


    ¡°Thank you, Professor,¡± Harry replied politely.


    But his thanks were premature. Snape¡¯s expression darkened as he furrowed his brow for no apparent reason.


    ¡°Yesterday, you trespassed in the staff lounge. Gryffindor will lose two points for your troll-like recklessness. I suppose if Mr. Potter¡¯s brain weren¡¯t filled with baked beans, he¡¯d remember that today is Saturday.¡±


    Saturday. Which meant Harry was supposed to serve detention in Snape¡¯s office.


    Watching Snape¡¯s limping figure disappear into the distance, Harry felt an inexplicable urge to pull out his wand.


    ¡°He really finds every excuse to deduct points from Gryffindor, doesn¡¯t he?¡± Ron shrugged.


    Though the Gryffindors overheard Snape docking points because of Harry, none of them blamed him. Instead, they looked at him with sympathy.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    When it was time for the Quidditch match, the students left the Great Hall and made their way to the Quidditch pitch.


    Nearly the entire school had turned out, along with a few wizarding parents. They filled the stands surrounding the pitch to capacity.


    After changing into their red Gryffindor uniforms, Harry and his teammates gathered. The captain, Oliver Wood, approached Harry.


    ¡°Nervous, Potter?¡± he asked.


    Harry shook his head. Of course, he wasn¡¯t nervous. He was more than prepared.


    ¡°Nervous is good. I was the same way my first time,¡± Wood said, as if reading from a well-rehearsed script. ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Captain, he said he¡¯s not nervous,¡± Fred interrupted.


    ¡°Neither are we,¡± George chimed in.


    ¡°All right, lads¡ª¡± Wood cleared his throat awkwardly.


    ¡°And ladies,¡± Angelina Johnson interjected.


    ¡°Right, and ladies,¡± Wood agreed.


    Before he could continue, Fred interrupted again, ¡°This is the important moment.¡±


    ¡°The moment we¡¯ve all been waiting for,¡± George added.


    Their interruptions dissolved the tension in the room, and everyone laughed.


    Even Harry couldn¡¯t help but smile at the infectious atmosphere.


    ¡°That was Oliver¡¯s speech from last year,¡± Fred told Harry. ¡°I heard from Charlie that he gave the same one the year before. Seems it¡¯s his go-to script every year.¡±


    ¡°Shut it, you two,¡± Wood snapped, glaring at the twins. ¡°This year is different. We¡¯ve got Potter now, and we¡¯re going to win!¡±


    Madam Hooch¡¯s whistle blew, and Wood turned to the team. ¡°Time¡¯s up, folks. Let¡¯s kick Slytherin¡¯s butts!¡±


    ¡°Kick their butts!¡± everyone shouted in unison.


    Though Harry wasn¡¯t nervous, he was a little excited. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and followed Angelina onto the pitch.


    ¡°Look, Potter,¡± Angelina suddenly pointed towards the Gryffindor stands. ¡°See that?¡±


    Harry followed her gaze. Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Neville were holding up a massive banner that read, Potter for the Win!


    The banner featured a large Gryffindor lion, likely drawn by Dean Thomas, whose artistic skills were well-known. Hermione had enchanted it to shimmer with vibrant colors, making it particularly eye-catching.


    When Harry turned to look, his friends cupped their hands around their mouths and shouted his name enthusiastically.


    Harry waved back at them, a warm glow spreading through him.


    Friendship is wonderful, he thought.


    ¡°Listen, I want a fair and honest game,¡± Madam Hooch said, her sharp gaze fixed on Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain, as if addressing him specifically.


    Harry couldn¡¯t help but notice Flint¡¯s troll-like appearance¡ªjagged teeth and a perpetually unintelligent expression.


    Flint bared his crooked teeth in a provocative grin at Wood.


    Wood responded with a calm, dignified smile.


    ¡°Watch out for Flint,¡± Angelina whispered. ¡°Slytherin¡¯s notorious for dirty play and zero sportsmanship.¡±


    Winning by any means necessary. Harry understood that all too well.


    Although he didn¡¯t know much about Quidditch, he knew Slytherins.


    That¡¯s why, just yesterday, he¡¯d ventured into the dungeons and retrieved a sturdy suit of armor. After resizing it with magic, he wore it beneath his uniform.


    Harry had never understood why the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower housed a collection of knight¡¯s armor, but that didn¡¯t stop him from putting it to good use.


    Bring it on, Harry thought. Let¡¯s see who outlasts whom.


    Marcus Flint, meanwhile, had noticed the small Gryffindor Seeker.


    Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.


    Flint decided it was time to teach the famous boy a lesson¡ªthat Quidditch wasn¡¯t a game you could win on fame alone.


    Noticing Harry looking back at him, Flint flashed a menacing grin, baring his crooked teeth.


    But what he didn¡¯t expect was for Harry to return an even more ferocious smile.


    ------


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 Chapter 42: Dumbledores

    When the match began, Harry soared leisurely on his broomstick, his keen eyes scanning the sky for any sign of the Golden Snitch.


    ¡°Stay on the side,¡± Wood advised, flying close to him. ¡°Wait until you spot the Snitch before diving in. We don¡¯t want you getting targeted too early.¡±


    ¡°Got it, Captain,¡± Harry nodded with a grin.


    "Brilliant! Gryffindor''s Chaser Angelina Johnson is off to a flying start, deftly snatching the Quaffle!¡± the commentator, Lee Jordan, announced with infectious enthusiasm. ¡°She¡¯s executing a breathtaking spiral to dodge the Slytherin defense¡ªand she¡¯s left them all in the dust! Oh, what¡¯s this? A Slytherin player is grabbing at her robes, but it¡¯s futile¡ªGryffindor scores! Ten points!¡±


    The stands erupted in cheers from three houses, their jubilation clashing with the frustrated roars of the Slytherins.


    Galvanized by Gryffindor¡¯s first goal, Slytherin retaliated with ferocity.


    However, their efforts were repeatedly thwarted by Gryffindor¡¯s Keeper, Oliver Wood, whose skill seemed almost impenetrable. Shot after shot failed to make it past him.


    "Here comes Gryffindor on the attack again!¡± Lee¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°What a move by Alicia Spinnet¡ªanother brilliant recruit scouted by none other than Oliver Wood! She was only a reserve player last year, but¡ªoh no! Slytherin¡¯s Captain, Marcus Flint, intercepts the Quaffle! Let¡¯s see how Gryffindor responds¡ªwait, incredible! Alicia steals it back with equal flair!¡±


    "Oh, but what¡¯s this? Alicia¡¯s pass is intercepted by a Slytherin Chaser¡ªMerlin¡¯s beard! Just when it looked like Gryffindor was about to fumble, the Quaffle deflects off Angelina¡¯s, uh¡­ well-placed chest muscles, and straight into the goal! Another ten points for Gryffindor!¡±


    Professor McGonagall, seated nearby, delivered a sharp smack to the back of Lee¡¯s head.


    ¡°Stick to the game, Jordan!¡± she admonished, her eyes narrowing.


    Lee muttered an apology, his enthusiasm only slightly dimmed as he resumed his play-by-play.


    Meanwhile, Harry hovered above, watching the chaotic match unfold below. Suddenly, Wood¡¯s panicked shout reached his ears.


    ¡°Harry! Watch out!¡±


    Harry¡¯s hand instinctively tapped the layered protective enchantments on his Quidditch robes as Marcus Flint, grinning wickedly, launched a Bludger straight at him. Flint¡¯s face lit up with anticipation of Harry¡¯s imminent fall.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    To everyone¡¯s astonishment, a dull thud echoed across the pitch as the Bludger bounced harmlessly off Harry¡¯s enchanted armor.


    ¡°Harry, you alright?¡± Fred called out, zooming in and sending the rogue Bludger hurtling back toward Flint with a well-aimed strike.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Harry assured, brushing off his robes as though nothing had happened.


    But just as he spoke, a glint of gold caught his eye¡ªthe Snitch!


    Harry leaned forward, urging his broomstick into a steep dive. From across the pitch, Slytherin¡¯s Seeker, Terence Higgs, spotted the Snitch as well, and the two streaked through the air in hot pursuit. The Chasers momentarily paused, captivated by the high-speed duel.


    Harry¡¯s superior broomstick and skill quickly gave him the lead, leaving Higgs trailing two lengths behind.


    ¡°Harry, look out!¡± Angelina¡¯s warning rang from above.


    Harry glanced to the side just in time to see Flint barreling toward him, clearly intending to ram him mid-air. Bracing himself, Harry shifted his elbow subtly.


    Thud!


    Flint yelped as Harry¡¯s well-timed counter sent him tumbling off course, spinning through the air like a discarded rag doll. Harry smirked as he glanced back at Flint, who was now clinging to his broom for dear life.


    But Harry¡¯s victory was short-lived. His broom suddenly dipped, jerking violently as though rebelling against his control.


    What¡¯s happening?


    He yanked the broom upward, narrowly avoiding a collision with the ground, but it began bucking even more violently.


    Someone¡¯s jinxing my broom!


    Harry¡¯s mind raced. Who could it be? Malfoy? No, he¡¯s spiteful, but he doesn¡¯t have this kind of skill.


    Gripping the broom tightly, Harry smacked the handle with his free hand. ¡°Finite!¡± he commanded, but the broom only thrashed harder in defiance.


    ¡°Harry! Look at Harry!¡± Ron¡¯s panicked voice rose from the Gryffindor stands.


    Beside him, Hermione seized the binoculars from Neville, her sharp eyes scanning the field.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± Ron muttered, his face pale. ¡°With McGonagall¡¯s new broom and Harry¡¯s flying skills, this shouldn¡¯t be happening!¡±


    ¡°Quiet, Ron!¡± Hermione snapped. ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡±


    She turned the binoculars toward the staff box, her expression hardening. ¡°I knew it!¡± she hissed, shoving the binoculars into Ron¡¯s hands. ¡°Look¡ªit¡¯s Snape! He¡¯s muttering something while staring right at Harry! He¡¯s cursing the broomstick!¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± Ron asked, stunned. ¡°I thought he was friends with Harry¡¯s parents! Why would he¡ª¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter now!¡± Hermione interrupted, her voice edged with urgency. ¡°I¡¯ll handle this!¡±


    Without another word, she bolted from the stands, leaving Ron clutching the binoculars in confusion.


    High above, Harry continued to battle his rebellious broomstick. His sharp gaze shifted to the staff box, where Dumbledore sat serenely, offering no sign of intervention.


    Seriously, Dumbledore? Are you just going to watch?


    Despite the chaos, Harry resolved not to land. He would expose whoever was behind this sabotage.


    Activating a farsight charm, Harry¡¯s vision zoomed in on the staff section¡ªand locked onto Snape, whose lips were moving as his piercing gaze bore into Harry.


    Could it really be him?


    -----


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 Chapter 43: Is Hogwarts the Lair of Death Eaters?

    Before Harry could react, he noticed Hermione stealthily sneaking toward the teachers'' stand.


    What was she up to?


    Harry''s distraction caused him to momentarily forget to cast Finite Incantatem on his broomstick, leading to a violent shake that almost threw him off.


    Phew.


    The stands erupted in gasps and murmurs of alarm.


    ¡°What is Hermione trying to do?¡± Ron muttered anxiously, peering through a pair of binoculars but failing to locate her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve no clue,¡± Hagrid replied absentmindedly, his massive hands clasped in silent prayer for Harry.


    From above, Harry saw Hermione reach the teachers¡¯ stand. Before she could do anything, though, he suddenly felt the force that had been tossing his broom vanish.


    What was going on? He watched as Hermione lit Snape''s robes on fire.


    "You''re on fire!" shouted someone next to Snape, snapping him out of his trance. Alarmed, Snape quickly stood up, frantically patting down the flames, looking utterly distraught about his singed robes.


    Harry was perplexed. What was happening here?


    There was no time to ponder, though, as a golden glimmer flashed before his eyes.


    The Golden Snitch!


    In an instant, Harry leaned forward, dipping his broom into a dive. With one swift motion, his hand shot out, and the Snitch was securely in his grasp.


    He raised his arm high, the small golden ball buzzing faintly in his grip.


    ¡°Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor earns 150 points!¡± Lee Jordan¡¯s voice boomed with unrestrained excitement. ¡°Gryffindor wins the match 170 to 60!¡±


    Madam Hooch flew over on her broom, blowing her whistle to signal the end of the match.


    ¡°Gryffindor wins!¡±


    Harry gracefully landed on the field, where his ecstatic teammates quickly surrounded him, cheering loudly.


    ¡°Potter! Potter! Potter!¡±


    The Weasley twins, in perfect unison as always, pumped their fists and chanted as if they were copies of each other.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Professor McGonagall!¡± Harry shouted excitedly, holding the Snitch aloft and beaming at her from the crowd. ¡°I caught the Golden Snitch!¡±


    Professor McGonagall approached, her expression transitioning from worry to relief as she asked, ¡°Potter, are you all right? Was there a problem with your broom?¡±


    ¡°No, Professor,¡± Harry replied, choosing to lie. ¡°I think I just lost my grip for a moment¡ªgot a little too nervous. My hands were slippery.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡± Professor McGonagall¡¯s face lit up with a smile, and she clasped her hands together like an excited schoolgirl. ¡°How wonderful! We won!¡±


    ¡°We won!¡± Oliver Wood shouted, punching the air triumphantly. ¡°We finally beat Slytherin!¡±


    He had every reason to celebrate¡ªsince joining Hogwarts, Gryffindor had never beaten Slytherin in Quidditch.


    After some celebratory moments on the pitch, Harry politely declined the invitation to return to the Gryffindor common room with his teammates. Instead, he was pulled aside by Hermione and Ron, who led him to Hagrid¡¯s hut.


    ¡°It was Snape!¡± Hermione declared firmly. ¡°Ron and I saw it clearly. He was muttering an incantation while staring at your broom the entire time!¡±


    ¡°Rubbish!¡± Hagrid interjected. His focus had been entirely on Harry during the match, and he hadn¡¯t noticed Snape¡¯s actions. ¡°That¡¯s impossible!¡±


    ¡°I even cast a fire charm on Snape¡¯s robes,¡± Hermione said. ¡°And right after that, Harry¡¯s broom stabilized. It¡¯s proof that Snape was the one cursing it!¡±


    ¡°Not a chance! Absolutely not!¡± Hagrid barked, frowning deeply. ¡°Snape¡¯s a professor at Hogwarts. He wouldn¡¯t do something like that. Even if you think he might¡¯ve done it to someone else, it¡¯s out of the question when it comes to Harry!¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Ron asked in confusion.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me. I won¡¯t say anything,¡± Hagrid muttered, clamming up. The complicated history of the previous generation wasn¡¯t something he felt comfortable gossiping about, especially since he¡¯d sworn secrecy to both Dumbledore and Snape.


    ¡°Hermione,¡± Harry interjected before she could press Hagrid further, steering the conversation elsewhere.


    ¡°Yes, Harry?¡± Hermione turned to him.


    ¡°When you climbed the teachers¡¯ stand, I saw you,¡± Harry began, speaking quietly. ¡°But before you set Snape¡¯s robes on fire, my broom had already stopped shaking. Snape was still chanting, but the broom showed no further signs of disturbance.¡±


    ¡°How did you even notice that?¡± Ron asked incredulously. ¡°Mate, you¡¯re wearing glasses!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a Seeker¡¯s instinct,¡± Harry replied casually, offering an irrefutable explanation.


    Hermione began pacing the room, her brows furrowed as she muttered to herself. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then who could it be? Are you sure, Harry?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Snape likes me very much,¡± Harry admitted. ¡°But I¡¯m certain he¡¯s not the one trying to kill me.¡±


    He then shifted the topic to a puzzling question.


    ¡°What confuses me most is that Professor Dumbledore was in the stands the whole time. Why didn¡¯t he stop my broom from being cursed?¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± he continued thoughtfully, ¡°why did the culprit feel bold enough to cast a curse in front of Dumbledore?¡±


    A sudden thought struck Ron, and he raised a finger. ¡°Wait¡ªcould it be that Dumbledore himself¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Hermione elbowed him sharply.


    ¡°Ronald! Are you insane? Do you think Hogwarts is a Death Eater¡¯s headquarters?¡± she snapped, fuming like a mother lioness defending her cubs.


    Ron stuck out his tongue sheepishly. ¡°I know that¡¯s not true. I was just joking to lighten the mood.¡±


    But the atmosphere turned even more somber.


    ¡°Of course, I don¡¯t doubt Dumbledore,¡± Harry said resolutely, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. ¡°I¡¯m just questioning why he remained indifferent.¡±


    -----


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 Chapter 44: Please call me senior!

    "Compared to that, mate," Ron said, "it''s Saturday today. Snape has you doing detention in his office every Wednesday and Saturday¡ªI don''t think you should go. What if¡­ what if he really tries something?"


    "Don''t worry, it''ll be fine," Harry reassured his two concerned friends.


    That evening, Harry showed up at Snape''s office as scheduled.


    He didn¡¯t go alone. Filch escorted him there, practically dragging him by the arm, despite Harry¡¯s repeated insistence that he had been invited by Professor Snape.


    A Gryffindor, invited by the head of Slytherin? Filch nearly laughed his teeth out.


    What Filch didn¡¯t expect, however, was that Harry wasn¡¯t lying. In fact, Harry had deliberately let himself be caught¡ªhaving someone to bicker with on the way made the walk far less boring.


    Filch, ever the pessimist, found Harry¡¯s sharp tongue unbearable. A few sarcastic quips later, Filch was practically spitting fire.


    "If this were decades ago, you''d have been flogged in the dungeons!" Filch snarled.


    Harry shot back without missing a beat, "And if this were a hundred years ago, you wouldn¡¯t even have the right to stand in front of me and speak!"


    Red-faced and seething, Filch had no choice but to angrily drag Harry the rest of the way to Snape¡¯s office.


    "Professor," Filch announced, shoving Harry through the door, "I caught this Gryffindor student! He dared to lie and say you¡ª"


    "He didn¡¯t lie," Snape interrupted curtly.


    Filch looked as though he¡¯d swallowed a fly. He gawked at Harry, then at Snape, utterly speechless.


    Ignoring them both, Harry began surveying the office.


    Snape¡¯s office, deep in the castle dungeons, was as gloomy as one might expect.


    Shelves lined the walls, crowded with jars holding slimy, grotesque contents: preserved animal parts, magical creature embryos, and even what appeared to be a floating brain suspended in viscous green fluid.


    "Had your fill, Potter?"


    The greasy, deliberate drawl came from behind him.


    "Yes, Professor," Harry replied evenly.


    Snape didn¡¯t waste words. With a flick of his wand, two buckets¡ªone empty, one full¡ªappeared before Harry.


    "Your task today is to extract mucus from these Flobberworms," Snape drawled, his voice slow and deliberate. "Without magic."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Harry glanced at the bucket teeming with wriggling Flobberworms. When he looked up again, Snape had already turned his attention to grading essays.


    Harry noticed Snape¡¯s expression twitch slightly as he picked up Marcus Flint¡¯s parchment. After a brief pause, Snape scrawled a "D" across it.


    Then, as if reconsidering, he scratched out the "D" and replaced it with a "T."


    "T"?


    Harry frowned. Hogwarts¡¯ grading scale went from "Outstanding (O)" to "Dreadful (D)."


    Unable to resist his curiosity, Harry asked, "Professor, what does ''T'' stand for?"


    Snape didn¡¯t respond, continuing to write with his quill, the scratching sound filling the silence.


    Just as Harry was about to begin squeezing the Flobberworms, Snape¡¯s oily voice came again:


    "Troll."


    Harry shrugged. The answer wasn¡¯t particularly surprising.


    Slytherins seemed to have a fondness for the term. Cassandra, for one, frequently called Gryffindors "trolls."


    Donning dragon-hide gloves, Harry began carefully extracting mucus from the worms, collecting the sticky substance in a small jar. One by one, the deflated Flobberworms were discarded into the empty bucket.


    "Flobberworm mucus: used to thicken potions," Snape suddenly said, his voice cutting through the quiet.


    Harry didn¡¯t look up¡ªhe didn¡¯t want Snape¡¯s hair grease dripping onto his face.


    "Your technique is mediocre," Snape commented, though his tone was oddly less icy than usual.


    After completing the task, Harry was dismissed.


    Standing outside the office, he let out a breath of relief.


    He had never doubted Snape¡¯s innocence. Tonight¡¯s detention only reinforced Harry¡¯s belief that Snape had no intention of harming him¡ªat least, not fatally.


    If Snape were guilty, Harry reasoned, he would either try to earn Harry¡¯s trust with kindness or strike directly.


    So¡­ who could it be?


    Harry didn¡¯t get far before noticing someone standing in the corridor ahead of him.


    The figure wore robes embroidered with stars and moons, a long white beard flowing to his waist.


    Looking up, Harry saw Dumbledore, smiling kindly, the half-moon spectacles perched on his nose gleaming in the dim light.


    "Harry?" Dumbledore said. "Would you mind joining me for a chat in my office?"


    No, you should be calling me senior, Harry thought idly.


    Out loud, he said with feigned urgency, "Headmaster, it was Professor Snape who gave me detention¡ª"


    "Relax, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "Severus explained everything to me. I¡¯m not here to dock points from Gryffindor. After all, there¡¯s hardly any left, is there?"


    As he spoke, Dumbledore gave Harry a playful wink.


    "Alright then, let¡¯s chat," Harry said, shrugging.


    Dumbledore chuckled lightly and gestured toward the spiral staircase behind him.


    Harry followed, step by step.


    His opinion of the headmaster wasn¡¯t exactly glowing at the moment.


    Someone had cast a curse in plain sight during a Quidditch match, and yet the headmaster had¡­


    Just wait. If Veratia¡¯s time magic succeeds and she comes a hundred years into the future¡­


    When she finds out you locked up her brother Gellert¡ª


    "Fizzing Whizbees," Dumbledore¡¯s voice interrupted his thoughts.


    Harry realized they had arrived at the entrance to the headmaster¡¯s office.


    The candy¡¯s name must have been the password, as the stone gargoyle moved aside, revealing a spiral staircase.


    "Come in, Harry," Dumbledore said, stepping inside.


    Harry followed him through the gleaming oak door into the office.


    The headmaster¡¯s office was a spacious, circular room, alive with the hum of soft, tinkling sounds.


    Tall-legged tables were covered with various silver instruments, each emitting mysterious vapors, as though whispering ancient secrets.


    The walls, as they always had, were lined with portraits of former headmasters.


    Each snoozed peacefully within their frames, soft snores filling the air.


    Harry¡¯s gaze lingered on one portrait.


    Even Phineas Nigellus Black, the least popular headmaster in Hogwarts¡¯ history, had earned a place on these walls.


    If Phineas recognized him, Harry thought nervously, it could mean trouble.


    ----


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 Chapter 45:Good Headmaster

    Harry sat uneasily in the chair across from the desk, his gaze darting around the room.


    Dumbledore smiled kindly, interpreting the boy¡¯s discomfort as a natural reaction to their first one-on-one meeting.


    ¡°Oh, Harry, relax,¡± Dumbledore said warmly. ¡°I was once a Gryffindor student too. You might even call me your senior.¡±


    Harry glanced up briefly before lowering his gaze again. He didn¡¯t respond, unsure of the potential consequences of disagreeing with the Headmaster. Most of what he knew about Dumbledore came from Hagrid¡¯s tales, and without firsthand experience, he couldn¡¯t gauge the man¡¯s true demeanor.


    ¡°Lemonade?¡± Dumbledore offered, reaching for a pitcher.


    ¡°Yes, please. With ice,¡± Harry replied, masking his unease with politeness.


    A moment later, a glass of chilled lemonade materialized before him. Harry picked it up, took a sip¡ªand immediately grimaced.


    ¡°Ugh!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°Why is it so sweet?¡±


    He strongly suspected that sugar was free at Hogwarts, judging by the syrupy concoction masquerading as lemonade.


    Dumbledore chuckled, unperturbed. ¡°It seems you¡¯re not a fan. What a shame.¡±


    Reaching into a jar on the desk, he extracted a cockroach candy and popped it into his mouth. Harry¡¯s stomach churned at the sight. If he hadn¡¯t known it was a magical treat, he might have lost his appetite entirely.


    ¡°Some of us are trying to sleep, you know!¡± an irritable voice echoed from the wall. ¡°For Merlin¡¯s sake, Albus! Even during my tenure as Headmaster, I never summoned students for late-night meetings. Not once!¡±


    The voice belonged to Phineas Nigellus Black, whose portrait hung prominently among the other former Headmasters. Harry immediately recognized the sharp tone and condescending air.


    Don¡¯t look at me, don¡¯t look at me, Harry silently prayed, hoping to avoid drawing Black¡¯s attention.


    Fate, however, had other plans.


    After admonishing Dumbledore, Black¡¯s gaze shifted to Harry. He squinted, as if trying to place him, before his expression changed to one of realization.


    ¡°Aha! I knew it! Let me think¡ªGryffindor¡¯s¡ª¡±


    Dreading Black¡¯s usual tirade about house superiority and bloodlines, Dumbledore intervened swiftly. ¡°Dilys, might I ask for your assistance?¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°With pleasure, Albus.¡±


    Dilys Derwent curtsied with a playful gleam in her eyes. She rallied a small contingent of Headmasters from their frames and led them into Phineas¡¯ portrait.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Black demanded, his voice laced with alarm.


    The Headmasters didn¡¯t answer. They advanced in unison, knocked him off his feet, and secured him to a chair, even gagging him for good measure.


    After a brief struggle, Phineas went still, his expression darkening. His mind raced as he processed the situation.


    So, the Gryffindor boy hadn¡¯t perished alongside Ragnok but had somehow reappeared a century later¡­ Time travel? And his age¡ªhad it even reversed during the journey?


    Hmph. So what?


    Even if reduced to ashes, I¡¯d recognize him!


    But Phineas¡¯ indignation burned hotter. You tied me up! Even if you beg, I won¡¯t tell you the truth. Never!


    ¡°Phineas is always like this,¡± Dumbledore explained to Harry with a sheepish smile. ¡°He¡¯s actually a good... uh¡­¡±


    ¡°A good Headmaster?¡± Harry ventured, though the words felt strange as they left his mouth.


    Phineas Nigellus Black? A good Headmaster? By Merlin¡¯s longest bunny ears¡­


    Dumbledore¡¯s expression twisted into something complex. For a moment, he opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it. Memories of enduring Phineas¡¯ strict and often arbitrary rules as a student resurfaced, unbidden.


    The other portraits fell silent before breaking into uncontrollable laughter.


    ¡°Oh, child,¡± Dilys gasped, dabbing her eyes. ¡°If you¡¯d been a student during Phineas¡¯ tenure, you¡¯d understand just how hilarious that statement is¡­¡±


    Harry shrugged, unfazed. He had visited the Headmaster¡¯s office before¡ªalbeit under Polyjuice Potion, impersonating someone else. Besides, the other Headmasters had never interacted with him directly, so their lack of recognition wasn¡¯t surprising.


    ¡°To be fair,¡± Eupraxia Mole chimed in, ¡°Phineas¡¯ efforts to unite the houses were unparalleled. Not even the Founders themselves could have done better.¡±


    Phineas thrashed furiously in his chair, the wooden frame creaking under the strain.


    ¡°Portraits truly are fascinating, aren¡¯t they?¡± Dumbledore mused, raising his lemonade in a toast to the animated frames.


    Harry decided it was time to steer the conversation toward more pressing matters. He was young and valued his sleep, after all.


    ¡°Well, Headmaster,¡± Harry began, ¡°I wanted to talk about what happened on the Quidditch pitch today.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Dumbledore replied, dropping another cockroach candy into his glass. Its antennae jutted out, twitching eerily in the liquid.


    Harry took a deep breath. ¡°I believe someone cursed my broomstick. It went out of control, and a classmate warned me it might have been a jinx.¡±


    ¡°It must¡¯ve been Hermione,¡± Dumbledore chuckled. ¡°At her age, few witches match her brilliance¡ª¡±


    ¡°Which brings me to my question,¡± Harry interrupted. ¡°Why would someone dare curse my broomstick in front of you? And more importantly, why didn¡¯t you do anything about it?¡±


    ¡°Someone was already doing their best to save you, weren¡¯t they?¡± Dumbledore replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully.


    As he disentangled a stray cockroach candy from his beard, he glanced up to find Harry studying his glass with the same apprehension.


    ¡°Are you¡­ afraid of me?¡± Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone suggested he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the answer was yes.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± Harry replied. ¡°I was just thinking about a spell I read in a book.¡±


    ¡°A spell?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Harry said carefully. ¡°One that claims you can read someone¡¯s thoughts just by gazing into their eyes.¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 46: Expelliarmus

    When Harry gave his answer, Dumbledore smiled, relief spreading across his face.


    "Legilimency. The incantation is Legilimens," he said, placing the cockroach cluster candy back into its jar.


    "But you don¡¯t need to worry. I don¡¯t use this spell on young wizards," Dumbledore added with a wise smile that suited his age. "I¡¯ve lived long enough, Harry. For a man over a hundred years old, whatever a child of eleven is thinking is usually written all over their face."


    "That¡¯s true," Harry replied with a small smile, setting his cup back on the table, though he kept his head lowered.


    Noticing Harry¡¯s lingering unease, Dumbledore spoke again. "Alright then, it¡¯s getting late. I won¡¯t keep you here chatting any longer¡ªhead back and get a good night¡¯s sleep, Harry. Put today¡¯s troubles behind you."


    "Yes, Headmaster," Harry replied politely.


    Dumbledore blinked, his half-moon glasses glinting.


    "I prefer being called ¡®Professor¡¯ over ¡®Headmaster,¡¯" he remarked.


    "Alright, Professor," Harry agreed readily.


    After Harry left, Dumbledore sat quietly in his chair for a long time, lost in thought.


    The boy¡ªHarry¡ªhad just reminded him of an old acquaintance.


    A former Hufflepuff student, none other than Newt Scamander, the famed Magizoologist.


    Dumbledore didn¡¯t suspect Harry of being the same person from a century ago. After all, time travel was known to occur occasionally, but crossing a hundred years? That was unheard of.


    Besides, this Harry was not only an eleven-year-old first-year but also a child whose birth Dumbledore had personally witnessed and whom he had entrusted to the Dursleys.


    The Harry Potter from a century ago, who had perished alongside Ranrock, had been a sixth-year student.


    Unless Dumbledore had truly gone mad, such a far-fetched suspicion would never cross his mind.


    "The magic of love is truly extraordinary, isn¡¯t it?" Dumbledore mused, seemingly to himself, though perhaps he was speaking to Fawkes.


    Fawkes tilted his head and chirped twice in response.


    <hr>


    The next morning, right after breakfast, Harry dragged Ron and Hermione to the eighth floor of the castle.


    It was Sunday, with no classes scheduled. Ron had planned to play Wizard¡¯s Chess with someone but found himself here instead.


    He pointed to the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy being bludgeoned by trolls and said, "Look at that¡ªwhat a hilarious painting."


    "¡®Barnabas the Barmy¡¯s Troll Experiment,¡¯" Hermione explained, giving Ron a brief background on the painting.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "How do you know everything?" Ron asked, a little disheartened. "I feel like you should¡¯ve been born into a wizarding family..."


    "Read more books; it¡¯ll do you good," Hermione replied, tapping her temple with a finger.


    While the two bickered, Harry had already prepared the Room of Requirement.


    A large door appeared out of nowhere on the wall opposite the painting, startling Ron and Hermione.


    "This is where we¡¯ll practice dueling," Harry said, introducing the room to his friends. "From now on, it¡¯ll be our secret base¡ª"


    "Really, a secret base?" Ron¡¯s interest piqued. "Brilliant! I bet Fred and George have no clue about this place!"


    "And why¡¯s that?" Hermione asked, puzzled.


    "Because if they knew, I¡¯d know," Ron replied with a shrug.


    The trio pushed the door open and stepped inside, greeted by a professional training area for spell practice.


    The walls were mirrored, thick cushions were casually piled in the corners, and at the far end of the room stood a row of dummies holding wands.


    "Cool!" Ron exclaimed, pulling out his wand. "It¡¯s a shame this has to stay a secret. If Fred and George saw this, they¡¯d die of envy!"


    "So, which spell are we practicing?" Hermione asked.


    "Spells Professor Quirrell won¡¯t teach us," Harry said succinctly. "For example, the most basic dueling spell¡ªthe Disarming Charm."


    He walked to the center of the room and summoned a dummy holding a wand.


    "Watch closely¡ªlike this. Expelliarmus!"


    A flash of red light shot from Harry¡¯s wand, striking the dummy¡¯s hand. The wand spun through the air, and Harry deftly caught it.


    "This is the simple Disarming Charm," Harry explained, placing the wand back in the dummy¡¯s hand.


    "That¡¯s the Disarming Charm?" Ron scratched his head. "Doesn¡¯t seem very cool¡ªdefinitely not as flashy as I imagined."


    "The most powerful spells are often the simplest," Harry explained. "Spellcasting is infinitely versatile¡ªjust like the Levitation Charm you¡¯ve used before."


    Harry demonstrated, pointing his wand at a nearby chair. "Wingardium Leviosa!"


    The chair floated into the air.


    "Now watch this."


    Harry set the chair down gently, then used the Disarming Charm to knock the dummy¡¯s wand away again. This time, he followed up with the Levitation Charm to accelerate the wand¡¯s flight, sending it hurtling into the dummy¡¯s eye socket.


    "That¡¯s barbaric..." Hermione frowned.


    "Barbaric?" Harry thought to himself. It was clear these children had grown up in peaceful times.


    Back in his day, students feared their spells weren¡¯t barbaric enough to effectively harm Dark wizards.


    "Dark wizards won¡¯t bother with civility, Hermione," Harry said. "You need to understand¡ªthey¡¯re vicious and ruthless. Take the Death Eaters who tortured Neville¡¯s parents, for example. Do you think they care about being civil or barbaric in a duel? No, at that moment, you¡¯d only worry whether your spells were strong enough."


    "Harry¡¯s right," Ron added. "Dark wizards are the most cunning and merciless people you¡¯ll ever meet..."


    "Sorry, Harry," Hermione said, nodding in agreement.


    "Here¡¯s how it¡¯s done," Harry said, patting Ron¡¯s shoulder and demonstrating in slow motion. "Swing your wand like this¡ªhorizontal, then vertical... Expelliarmus!"


    "Expelliarmus!" Ron mimicked Harry, pointing his wand at the dummy in the middle of the room.


    Nothing happened.


    The atmosphere grew awkward.


    It wasn¡¯t just Ron; Hermione also failed to produce any results.


    Harry patiently corrected their movements. Half an hour later, Hermione successfully cast the Disarming Charm, followed shortly by a determined Ron.


    While Ron and Hermione practiced, Harry found himself deep in thought.


    There was no doubt that the Disarming Charm had been his specialty back in the day.


    Veratia had even suggested he refine the spell further. Her idea was to mark a target with other magic, allowing the Disarming Charm to chain between multiple enemies.


    In simple terms, it meant a single Disarming Charm could disarm multiple opponents at once.


    In theory, when several enemies were close together, one Disarming Charm could disarm them simultaneously. But Veratia¡¯s vision was to extend this capability to distant or even extreme distances, allowing one spell to disarm multiple foes at once.


    ----


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 Chapter 47: Ive seen him before!

    Creating a magical mark was no easy task.


    Harry had spent half a day experimenting in the Room of Requirement without success. Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were enthusiastically dueling with Expelliarmus spells, taking turns to pummel the training dummy, their delight plainly visible.


    But Harry couldn¡¯t ignore a growing concern. Ron¡¯s talent wasn¡¯t bad, but his mismatched wand made learning spells twice as hard and half as effective.


    Harry recalled Ollivander¡¯s words about wands choosing their wizards, but he had always felt it went both ways. Surely, it was just as much about the wizard choosing the wand, wasn¡¯t it?


    It was time to figure out a way for Ron to get a new wand, Harry decided. Considering the Weasleys¡¯ financial situation, if they could have afforded one, they wouldn¡¯t have handed Ron Charlie¡¯s old wand in the first place.


    Maybe he could gift Ron a wand? But the thought of directly giving it to him made Harry hesitate¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to hurt Ron¡¯s pride. He¡¯d have to find a better way.


    When they finally left the Room of Requirement, Ron and Hermione seemed reluctant to end their practice session. Kids, after all, were naturally drawn to new and exciting things¡ªand to the thrill of destruction. Hermione and Ron were no exceptions.


    Who wouldn¡¯t be fascinated by the freedom and exhilaration of casting spells at will?


    ¡°Excellent! Well done! Five points to Gryffindor!¡±


    During Charms class, Professor Flitwick clapped his hands in delight, praising Ron¡¯s spellwork.


    Ron had been the first in class to levitate something heavier than a feather using the Wingardium Leviosa spell. The proof hovered briefly before Flitwick in the form of a desk, which promptly crashed back down after a few seconds.


    Still, Flitwick was thrilled and generous with his encouragement.


    ¡°Harry! Harry! I did it!¡± Ron exclaimed excitedly, shaking Harry¡¯s arm.


    Hermione clapped politely but couldn¡¯t help shaking her head at Ron¡¯s enthusiasm. She had mastered this level long ago.


    She¡¯d held back deliberately in class at Harry¡¯s private request, allowing Ron a moment to shine without stealing all the house points for herself. To their classmates, it simply looked like Ron was celebrating with friends. No one suspected his sudden improvement in charms was thanks to Harry¡¯s careful guidance.


    The trio often visited Hagrid in his hut on Friday afternoons. As usual, Harry didn¡¯t hesitate to accept a rock cake under the disapproving stares of his friends.


    ¡°Just soak it in tea before eating,¡± Harry advised. ¡°I tried it last time when I had a toothache¡ªit works surprisingly well. Hagrid, could you break them into smaller pieces for us?¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Of course, Harry,¡± Hagrid said cheerfully, taking the rock cakes and breaking them into manageable chunks. Fully aware that human teeth were no match for his baking, Hagrid smiled as he poured them each a cup of honey water.


    ¡°Phew...¡± Harry took a sip and said to Hagrid with mock relief, ¡°You know, Hagrid, this is lemonade. What I had in the Headmaster¡¯s office the other day? That was more like lemon syrup.¡±


    ¡°You were in Dumbledore¡¯s office?¡± Hagrid asked, stroking his beard. ¡°Dumbledore¡¯s a good man, isn¡¯t he? Loves sweets¡ªeveryone knows that. Professor McGonagall keeps trying to hide his candy, but it never works. Most of Snape¡¯s tooth-strengthening potions end up going to him!¡±


    Hagrid leaned in conspiratorially, motioning for the trio to do the same.


    ¡°Speaking of Snape,¡± he whispered, ¡°he suggested the tooth potion expenses go on the school board¡¯s budget. But Dumbledore refused.¡±


    Hermione frowned. ¡°Hagrid, don¡¯t you realize Snape was being sarcastic?¡±


    Hagrid blinked in surprise. ¡°Oh! He was?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the trio said in unison.


    ¡°Ohhh...¡± Hagrid scratched his head and chuckled. ¡°I was wondering why he¡¯d say something like that...¡±


    ¡°By the way, Hagrid,¡± Harry interjected, ¡°since you mentioned Snape... I saw him after Halloween, and his leg looked injured. Filch was treating him, and I overheard something about a three-headed animal biting him. You¡¯re the expert on magical creatures¡ªany idea what it might be?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t call myself an expert,¡± Hagrid said modestly, scratching his head again. ¡°But maybe it was Fluffy.¡±


    ¡°Fluffy?¡± the trio asked in unison.


    ¡°Yeah, Fluffy¡¯s a three-headed dog I got off a Greek bloke. Bit of an odd one¡ªfalls asleep the moment it hears music. Dumbledore borrowed it to guard something on the fourth floor. I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s enough to protect N... Oh, I shouldn¡¯t have said that!¡±


    Hagrid clamped a hand over his mouth, realizing he¡¯d let something slip.


    ¡°Nicholas Flamel?¡± Hermione asked immediately.


    The trio exchanged glances. Harry leaned back in his chair, suddenly calm.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Nicholas Flamel?¡± Hermione pressed.


    ¡°Oh no, lass, that¡¯s Dumbledore¡¯s business,¡± Hagrid said, quickly standing up to usher them out. ¡°I¡¯ve already said too much. You¡¯ve got classes tomorrow¡ªit¡¯s getting late, so off you go!¡±


    With no choice, the trio left Hagrid¡¯s hut.


    ¡°Nicholas Flamel?¡± Ron muttered as they walked. ¡°Why does that name sound so familiar? I feel like I¡¯ve heard it somewhere before.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Hermione said, frowning. ¡°But I can¡¯t remember where.¡±


    ¡°Harry, any ideas?¡± Ron turned to him.


    ¡°You actually saw it today,¡± Harry replied, pulling a Chocolate Frog card from inside his robes. ¡°Here, I¡¯ve still got it on me.¡±


    Ron took the card and read aloud:


    ¡°Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, widely regarded as the greatest wizard of our time. His notable achievements include defeating the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, discovering the twelve uses of dragon¡¯s blood, and his work in alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel...¡±


    ¡°Oh, right! I saw his name on this card before! What does he do?¡±


    ¡°It says it right there¡ªNicholas Flamel is an alchemist,¡± Hermione explained.


    ¡°I read about him in a book,¡± Harry said smoothly, not missing a beat. ¡°Nicholas Flamel is over six hundred years old. He¡¯s lived since the 14th century and is said to own the Philosopher¡¯s Stone¡ªa magical object with incredible powers. It can turn any metal into gold and grant immortality.¡±


    Hermione and Ron exchanged a shocked look, gasping audibly.


    Ron was astonished by the stone¡¯s miraculous abilities. Hermione, however, was amazed by Harry¡¯s impressive knowledge.


    ¡°You know so much, Harry,¡± she said admiringly.


    Harry simply smiled modestly. Internally, he thought, If only you knew¡ªI¡¯ve met Nicholas Flamel myself...


    ----


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 Chapter 48: College War

    Nicolas Flamel¡ªHarry had met this renowned alchemist during Christmas in his fifth year when he visited Nurmengard  Castle.


    The Grindelwalds and the Flamels were friends, which is why Veratia had taken him to visit the Flamels that Christmas.


    Harry had a deep impression of them¡ªafter all, there weren¡¯t many people as fragile and brittle as Nicolas Flamel, who looked almost like a gingerbread cookie.


    Just as Harry was lost in his memories, Hermione suddenly stomped her foot.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡±


    ¡°What do you know?¡± Ron asked.


    ¡°Snape is trying to steal the Philosopher¡¯s Stone!¡± Hermione whispered urgently. ¡°That¡¯s why he got bitten by Fluffy! Maybe he even let the troll in to cause a distraction. While everyone¡¯s attention was elsewhere, he tried sneaking past Fluffy to get to the Stone and ended up getting bitten!¡±


    Harry followed Hermione¡¯s train of thought and realized that, surprisingly, it did seem plausible.


    ¡°But why would he do that?¡± Ron asked, puzzled. ¡°Isn¡¯t he the Potions Master? Would he even need something like that?¡±


    ¡°Precisely because he¡¯s a Potions Master, he would want the Stone!¡± Hermione said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a recipe for the Elixir of Life in any potions textbook. Trust me, a scientist with such an obsession wouldn¡¯t be able to resist such a temptation.¡±


    ¡°But Snape¡¯s a Potions professor, not a scientist,¡± Ron argued.


    ¡°Snape said on the first day of class that potions are a subtle science,¡± Hermione shot back.


    Ron thought for a moment and recalled that Snape had indeed said something like that.


    ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s possible,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°What do you think, Harry?¡± Hermione asked.


    Harry frowned, not answering Hermione directly. Instead, he said, ¡°That brings up the question¡ªwhere exactly is Fluffy guarding the Stone?¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± Ron asked, surprised. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re planning to help guard the Stone?¡±


    Of course, Harry intended to help. After all, he still hoped to have a chat with Mr. Flamel to see if he could borrow the Stone himself.


    Since learning about the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, Harry¡¯s priorities had shifted.


    Perhaps the focus didn¡¯t need to be on the Headmaster after all¡ªthis Stone belonged to Mr. Flamel, and Mr. Flamel was a friend of old Grindelwald.


    Mr. Flamel, surely you wouldn¡¯t want your old friend¡¯s daughter to...This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll help! I¡¯m a Hogwarts student, aren¡¯t I?¡± Harry said righteously.


    For kids Ron¡¯s age, this was precisely the time to imagine themselves as superheroes.


    Hearing Harry¡¯s resolve, Ron grinned in agreement. ¡°Cool! Count me in!¡±


    After a pause, he added, ¡°And we¡¯ll definitely need to bring Hermione. We can¡¯t do this without her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. ¡°To keep you two from getting yourselves killed.¡±


    ****


    As December arrived, the weather grew colder.


    The first snow of 1991 finally fell on the second day of December.


    These days, the trio spent all their time outside of class either practicing spells in the Room of Requirement or gathering together to figure out where Fluffy might be located.


    Harry didn¡¯t have much of a clue. Even after living in the castle for six years, he couldn¡¯t guarantee he knew all of its secrets.


    Even after six years at Hogwarts, Harry couldn¡¯t claim to know all the castle¡¯s secrets. The Chamber of Maps, for example, had been shown to him by Veratia. That incident had further soured Cassandra¡¯s mood¡ªnot that she was ever particularly cheerful.


    While walking through the halls, Harry was cheerfully discussing dinner options with Ron and Seamus when a shout from behind caught their attention.


    ¡°You owe her an apology, Parkinson!¡±


    It was Hermione.


    Harry and the others stopped and turned to see Hermione standing like an angry lioness, blocking Slytherin¡¯s Pansy Parkinson.


    Not far away, Lavender Brown was frantically picking up her scattered books.


    ¡°Why should I?¡± Pansy asked coldly.


    ¡°You knocked Lavender over! You owe her an apology!¡± Hermione snapped.


    ¡°Forget it, Hermione, it¡¯s fine,¡± Lavender whispered, tugging at Hermione¡¯s sleeve in an attempt to avoid further conflict.


    ¡°She did it on purpose!¡± Hermione hissed. ¡°Just because you pointed out her mistake in class!¡±


    ¡°Let it go,¡± Lavender said softly.


    A crowd quickly gathered, curious to see what was going on.


    Pansy curled her lips disdainfully and patted the blonde girl beside her.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Daphne.¡±


    ¡°Stop right there!¡± Hermione shouted.


    Pansy¡¯s expression turned icy.


    ¡°And what do you want? Mudblood?¡±


    ¡°Pansy¡­¡± Daphne Greengrass whispered cautiously. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t use that word.¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Pansy sneered. ¡°Filthy Mudbloods like her don¡¯t deserve to be in the same school as me¡ª¡±


    Hermione pulled out her wand.


    ¡°Oh, you want to duel me?¡± Pansy taunted, smirking. ¡°Don¡¯t think scoring a few points in class makes you my equal. You¡¯ll soon learn the difference between you and a pureblood wizard, Mudblood!¡±


    She pulled out her wand as well.


    ¡°Expelliarmus!¡± Hermione shouted. Pansy¡¯s wand spun through the air, landing in Hermione¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Scourgify!¡± Hermione followed up with another spell.


    Pansy collapsed to the ground, choking as pink bubbles poured uncontrollably from her mouth. She tried to curse but could only gag as bubbles spilled out.


    ¡°Your mouth is filthy, Parkinson,¡± Hermione said coldly. ¡°Consider this a lesson.¡±


    ¡°Hermione!¡± Ron suddenly shouted.


    Hermione ducked just in time to avoid Daphne¡¯s spell, retaliating swiftly to disarm her as well.


    ¡°Anyone else?¡± Hermione raised her chin defiantly.


    Marcus Flint stepped forward with a malicious grin, flanked by several older students.


    The dynamic shifted. When older boys got involved, the situation became far more serious. Harry and Ron stepped in front of Hermione, wands drawn.


    Neville and Seamus did the same. Though their hands shook, they stood firmly, ready to defend their friends.


    ¡°Potter!¡± Marcus snarled, aiming a wand at Harry and firing an orange-red spell.


    He had been waiting for this. His real target wasn¡¯t Hermione¡ªit was Harry.


    Marcus had been stewing over the grudge from the last Quidditch match, where Harry had collided with him.


    Now, freshly released from the hospital wing, he¡¯d been plotting his revenge.


    Of course, a senior student picking a fight with younger students would look bad. But this? Protecting younger housemates and accidentally hitting the "Boy Who Lived" in the process? That sounded much better.


    Just imagine, Marcus thought with glee, the Boy Who Lived covered in boils after my spell...


    ----


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 Chapter 49: I mean, All of you here are trash!

    Flint never expected that Harry was just as eager to teach this group of Slytherins a lesson.


    Arrogant, self-important, and smug...


    Ha! You lot think you¡¯re worthy?


    You¡¯re a disgrace to the Slytherins of a hundred years ago!


    With quick reflexes, Harry used his wand to deflect the curse, swiftly following up with an Expelliarmus.


    It was a subtle technique¡ªwhile it appeared as if Harry merely used his wand to parry, it was actually a Protego.


    ¡°Non-verbal spellcasting?¡± The onlookers were stunned.


    No one had anticipated that Harry would be capable of such an advanced skill¡ªsomething typically reserved for adult wizards.


    ¡°What are you standing around for?¡± Flint roared. Even without a wand, he still had his proud, strong physique.


    After all, the Potter kid was just a scrawny little first-year¡ªif Flint could just get close enough, everything would be fine!


    But he had barely taken two steps when his body suddenly floated into the air, completely out of his control.


    ¡°Expelliarmus!¡±


    Ron¡¯s wand shot out a beam of light, successfully disarming the upperclassman who had his wand pointed at Harry from behind.


    The wand spun through the air and landed in Ron¡¯s hand. Behind him, Seamus and Neville let out cheers of excitement.


    ¡°Merlin¡¯s beard, Ron! How did you do that?¡± Neville whispered urgently, a mix of awe and envy in his voice.


    ¡°Harry taught me,¡± Ron said smugly.


    ¡°Ronald!¡± Hermione hissed sharply. ¡°Can you focus on the fight, for heaven¡¯s sake? We¡¯re still under attack!¡±


    Ron jolted back to his senses, scrambling to dodge a curse fired by one of the older students.


    He was just a first-year¡ªhe hadn¡¯t even learned the Protego spell yet.


    Not that it was entirely his fault. In truth, in the current British wizarding world, many adult wizards¡ªAurors included¡ªcouldn¡¯t properly cast Protego.


    It was laughable¡ªalmost as ridiculous as a U.S. police officer showing up without a gun.


    Unfortunately, Neville wasn¡¯t so lucky. A curse hit him squarely, his body stiffening as he collapsed to the floor with a loud thud.


    ¡°Oh, poor Neville,¡± Ron muttered nervously, retaliating with another disarming spell and knocking yet another wand into his own hand.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Never mind that their opponents were fifth-years¡ªhonestly, their magical skill was abysmal.


    The trio hadn¡¯t even practiced combat coordination before, yet with Harry¡¯s experience on their side, dealing with these fifth-years was a walk in the park.


    Within minutes, the fifth-years had all been soundly defeated.


    Harry¡¯s emotions were complicated. He wasn¡¯t happy about this outcome.


    Seriously, what had happened to Hogwarts?


    Fifth-years who couldn¡¯t even cast a proper Protego, let alone stand up to a bunch of first-years?


    Were fifth-years always this pathetic?


    Harry thought back to his own fifth year¡ªback then, he¡¯d been able to take on three Ashwinders single-handedly and come out on top.


    Compared to these fifth-years, he was leagues ahead.


    ¡°Finite!¡± Harry cast a counter-spell on Neville, helping him back to his feet.


    Neville groaned, rubbing the sore spot on his head where it had hit the floor. ¡°Ron, why didn¡¯t you warn me?¡±


    ¡°Mate, it all happened so fast,¡± Ron said apologetically. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the curse would hit you.¡±


    ¡°Potter! Put us down!¡± Flint¡¯s voice rang out angrily.


    ¡°Oh, my apologies,¡± Harry said breezily, ¡°I didn¡¯t realize Slytherins were so fragile.¡±


    Seven fifth-year Slytherins had come forward to defend Pansy. Now, two of them were floating helplessly in the air, and five were lying flat on the ground.


    ¡°Apologize to Hermione,¡± Harry demanded.


    ¡°Over my dead body!¡± Flint snarled from mid-air. ¡°I¡¯ll never apologize to that filthy little Mudblood!¡±


    Harry¡¯s expression went cold.


    With a flick of his wand, Flint came crashing to the ground with a thud.


    ¡°I said, apologize.¡±


    Harry¡¯s wand moved again, and Flint cried out in shock as his knees buckled, forcing him into a kneeling position.


    ¡°The apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree,¡± Harry said dryly, shaking his head. ¡°From your behavior, it¡¯s easy to tell what kind of family raised you.¡±


    ¡°How dare you insult the Flint family! You¡¯ll pay for that, Potter!¡± Flint spat, his face contorted in rage.


    ¡°Oh, does that bother you?¡± Harry leaned closer, his voice low and full of scorn. ¡°Funny how you didn¡¯t consider the consequences when you insulted others. Let¡¯s face it¡ªit takes a trash wizard family to raise a trash wizard like you...¡±


    ¡°Stop it!¡±


    A clear, authoritative voice cut through the crowd, silencing Harry mid-sentence.


    The onlookers parted to make way for the Slytherin prefect, Gemma Farley, who approached with a stack of books in her arms.


    ¡°What is going on here?¡± Prefect Farley demanded sharply, scanning the scene.


    ¡°Miss Farley, it¡¯s like this¡­¡±


    Several Slytherin students hurried forward, eager to tell their version of the story, heavily embellished in their favor.


    ¡°Flint, Bole, Derrick!¡± Farley¡¯s voice rang with anger. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that you fifth-years were defeated by three first-years from Gryffindor?¡±


    ¡°Look at you, Flint! You¡¯ve brought shame to your family!¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Miss Farley, Potter insulted my family¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡± Farley cut him off coldly. ¡°You brought this on yourself! Who do you think you are, using that word? Slytherin will lose ten points because of your outburst!¡±


    ¡°And you, Miss Parkinson,¡± she added, ¡°will also lose ten points!¡±


    Prefects had the authority to deduct points from students as punishment for breaking rules.


    The Slytherins were stunned. None of them had expected their own prefect to dock points from Slytherin.


    Whose side was she on, anyway?


    But Gemma knew she had no choice. If it had just been a scuffle among younger students, that was one thing. But fifth-years bullying first-years? If the professors found out, it would take far more than twenty points to smooth things over.


    Not to mention, Marcus Flint and Pansy Parkinson had openly used the word ¡°Mudblood¡± to insult a Gryffindor student. That was a serious offense.


    ¡°You are a fair prefect,¡± Harry said politely, giving Farley a small, formal bow. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else, we¡¯ll be on our way.¡±


    ¡°Hold it right there, Mr. Potter.¡±


    Harry raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is there something else?¡±


    Farley stepped forward, her black hair swaying gently in the breeze.


    ¡°I challenge you to a wizard¡¯s duel,¡± she said firmly.


    ----


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 Chapter 50: Wizard Duel!

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    Wizard''s Duel?


    At Gemma Farley''s words, the gathered students erupted into an uproar.


    A fifth-year student publicly challenging a first-year newcomer to a duel in front of everyone?


    Was this a distortion of humanity or a collapse of morality?


    Harry raised his head, meeting Gemma''s sea-blue eyes.


    "Miss Farley, are you challenging me to a wizard''s duel?"


    "Yes, Mr. Potter." Gemma''s expression was serious, though she didn¡¯t draw her wand. "You may choose the time and place. No assistants. A one-on-one duel."


    As a Slytherin prefect, she knew such a challenge was hardly reasonable. Yet, she felt compelled to step forward. Otherwise, how could she maintain order and uphold her leadership in the house?


    "Why?" Harry asked.


    It wasn¡¯t sentimentality. Even a century ago, there had been no shortage of stunning women among dark wizards. He¡¯d hurled curses at their beautiful faces without a second thought.


    He was simply curious.


    "You¡¯ve already defeated seven fifth-year students, proving your abilities far exceed those of an ordinary first-year," Gemma explained. "If you win, I promise no Slytherin will trouble you again. If you lose, you owe Slytherin House an apology."


    "I don¡¯t care about trouble," Harry replied nonchalantly. "If I win, I want Parkinson and Flint to apologize to Hermione. As for bothering me... I doubt Slytherins could even manage to be a nuisance."


    Harry truly couldn¡¯t stand anyone with the surname Flint.


    A century ago at Hogwarts, Muggle-born discrimination was not uncommon. The first time Harry encountered the slur "Mudblood," it had come from a boy named Derek Flint.


    That same Flint had deliberately knocked over Harry¡¯s dinner plate in the Great Hall. Gareth had stood up for him and suffered ruthless retaliation as a result.


    But after that incident, Derek Flint never dared cross Harry again. Gareth suspected it was because Derek¡¯s father, Mr Flint, had been severely warned by the Board of Governors.


    Despite Gareth¡¯s repeated claims that his aunt, Professor Weasley, wasn¡¯t on the Board and that even the Headmaster couldn¡¯t dictate their actions, Harry always suspected the Deputy Headmistress had intervened on his behalf.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Why doesn¡¯t the Board do something about Cassandra Malfoy?" Harry had wondered as a first-year back then. Malfoy constantly mocked him for being lazy, arrogant, and unmotivated. She even tried to recruit him as her follower¡ªa proposition Harry found particularly repulsive.


    Gemma furrowed her brows slightly. She didn¡¯t actually want to clash with Harry. The duel challenge stemmed purely from his disrespectful remarks about Slytherin.


    If she were just another Slytherin student, she might have let it slide. But as a prefect, her role demanded both honor and responsibility.


    "Draw your wand, Miss Farley," Harry said.


    He withdrew his own wand and gestured for his friends to step back to avoid any stray spells.


    "Harry..." Ron looked concerned. Farley''s name was one Percy frequently mentioned, always with high praise as one of Slytherin''s finest students. Percy admired her not just for her stellar grades but for her "not-so-typical Slytherin" personality.


    "Don¡¯t worry, Ron," Harry reassured him with a grin. "Take care of Neville. He hit his head earlier, so he¡¯s probably not feeling great. I¡¯ve got this."


    Ron wanted to protest but was promptly dragged aside by Hermione, who firmly clutched his sleeve.


    "I¡¯ll be the referee!" Draco suddenly appeared, eyeing Harry with a mischievous grin.


    The crowd quickly formed a circle around the duelists. Gemma stood at the center and hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Potter, don¡¯t you need a moment to rest?"


    "Thank you, but no." Harry gave her a graceful bow. "Miss Farley, surely you don¡¯t need me to remind you of the basic etiquette of a duel?"


    Gemma raised her wand horizontally across her chest, returning the bow with an impeccable dueling salute.


    "Three!" Draco raised his hand high.


    "Expelliarmus!"


    Both cast Disarming Charms simultaneously, their spells colliding in a burst of orange-red sparks.


    Gemma flicked her wrist, animating the statue behind her. It came to life, striding menacingly toward Harry.


    In response, Harry waved his wand, summoning two suits of armor from the doorway. Armed with long spears, they charged at the animated statue.


    Unnoticed by many, a vine crept toward Harry¡¯s feet. Without looking, he incinerated it with a burst of flame, then used one of the animated suits of armor to shield himself from Gemma¡¯s curse before countering with a Stupefy.


    The duel was mesmerizing. For most of the first-years, this was their first time witnessing such an intense wizard¡¯s duel. They watched with bated breath, utterly transfixed.


    When Gemma dodged one of Harry¡¯s spells, another streak of red magic shot toward her¡ªan anticipated movement.


    "Protego!" she parried with a Shield Charm.


    But Harry¡¯s follow-up spell was immediate.


    The Shield Charm¡¯s energy dissipated, leaving her defenseless as the spell struck her.


    "Incarcerous!"


    Thick ropes materialized, binding Gemma tightly and sending her tumbling onto the snow-covered ground.


    Her normally loose and comfortable Hogwarts robes now clung to her, accentuating her figure as the ropes tightened.


    Without her magic to sustain it, the animated statue crumbled.


    The two suits of armor crossed their spears at her neck, poised to strike should she resist.


    "You¡¯ve lost, Miss Farley," Harry declared with an air of elegance.


    He considered himself a gentleman¡ªtreating women as equals, deserving of his full effort in a duel.


    "I admit defeat," Gemma conceded decisively.


    Harry flicked his wand. The armor returned to its original positions, and the ropes binding Gemma vanished.


    Somewhere in the crowd, a disappointed sigh could be heard, likely mourning the ropes¡¯ disappearance.


    "Now then, it¡¯s time to fulfill your promise, Miss Farley," Harry said, extending a hand to her.


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    ----


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 Chapter 51: You wont be so lucky next time, Potter

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    Gemma grabbed Harry''s hand and used it to steady herself as she stood up.


    ¡°Do you really think they¡¯ll listen to you?¡± Harry asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of curiosity. ¡°I mean, you just lost to a first-year. Won¡¯t that hurt your reputation in your house?¡±


    Gemma smiled faintly, her composure unshaken.


    ¡°If it¡¯s to the great Savior himself, no. After all, you defeated the Dark Lord,¡± she replied smoothly.


    With that, she turned her head, her voice commanding as she called out, ¡°Alright, Parkinson, Flint¡ªgo apologize to Miss Granger!¡±


    Pansy and Marcus exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions pleading for leniency. But Gemma¡¯s gaze was firm, leaving no room for argument.


    To Harry¡¯s surprise, the two Slytherins, under Gemma¡¯s orders, obediently walked over to Hermione. They bowed slightly and offered their apologies, their voices carrying a sincerity that seemed out of character.


    Harry couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of doubt. Were these truly the same people who had been so defiant moments ago?


    Draco Malfoy stood in the background, his face briefly betraying a flicker of disappointment.


    ¡°Not all Slytherins are hopeless,¡± Harry murmured to Gemma. ¡°At least there¡¯s someone like you¡ªa worthy opponent, Miss Farley.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Potter,¡± Gemma replied with a graceful curtsey.


    The duel was over, and with the agreement fulfilled, the crowd began to disperse. The students, still buzzing with excitement, chattered about the unexpected turn of events.


    The sight of Slytherins bowing and admitting fault left many in disbelief. Some whispered theories of a hidden agenda, a cunning scheme orchestrated by Gemma Farley to exact revenge later. After all, Slytherins admitting defeat? That was unheard of.


    ***


    On the way back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron muttered, ¡°They¡¯re definitely up to something. That¡¯s just how Slytherins are. Still... this Farley girl¡ªif Percy praises her, she must be something. Honestly, she doesn¡¯t seem like a typical Slytherin.¡±


    No, Harry thought, this is what a true Slytherin looks like.


    Slytherins of the past¡ªthe ones from a century ago¡ªhad been different. Ruthless, yes, and unyielding, but they confronted their opponents directly. They didn¡¯t rely on cheap tricks or schemes to win.


    But today¡¯s Slytherins? Many were the children of Death Eaters. What could you expect from students raised in such households?A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Miss Farley is indeed a respectable prefect,¡± Hermione said thoughtfully. ¡°But won¡¯t her actions provoke backlash from the other Slytherins?¡±


    ¡°Not a chance,¡± Ron said with certainty. ¡°Farley isn¡¯t just a prefect. She¡¯s the top student in her year¡ªbeat out the older ones to earn her spot.¡±


    Hermione looked wistful. ¡°I hope I can be as strong as her someday...¡±


    ¡°Not as strong as Harry?¡± Ron teased, grinning mischievously.


    ¡°Oh, honestly, Ronald.¡± Hermione rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not even aiming to match him...¡±


    Someone like Gemma, with her spellcasting prowess, seemed like an attainable goal. But Harry¡¯s level? It felt so far out of reach, it was almost suffocating. Even Hermione, brilliant as she was, felt the gulf between their abilities.


    ¡°I¡¯m just average,¡± Harry said modestly. ¡°By the time you¡¯re in fifth year, you¡¯ll probably have caught up to me.¡±


    Everyone laughed, but as the laughter subsided, Neville spoke up timidly.


    ¡°Um, Harry, I heard you¡¯ve been helping Ron and Hermione with spells. Do you think you could... maybe help me and Seamus too?¡± He hesitated before adding softly, ¡°I know I¡¯m not very good, but I really want to learn...¡±


    A warm hand rested on his shoulder.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Harry said with an encouraging smile. ¡°We¡¯re all classmates. Helping each other is what we¡¯re supposed to do¡ªlearning from one another¡¯s strengths.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Hermione chimed in. ¡°Look, I¡¯m good at subjects that require memorization, like History of Magic. Harry is amazing at spellwork. And Ron... well, Ron is very funny.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Ron protested, indignant. ¡°What do you mean, just funny? I work hard too, you know!¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Hermione said, giving him a pointed look. ¡°Except when practicing spells, you always stop at ¡®good enough.¡¯ And in real battles, you¡¯re always ¡®just short.¡¯ Didn¡¯t you notice? It took you two tries to disarm that big guy next to Flint.¡±


    Ron pouted but didn¡¯t argue. He knew Hermione was right. If she hadn¡¯t pulled him out of the way of a spell during the duel, he might have been hit.


    Watching their banter, Harry¡¯s mind drifted to memories of Cassandra.


    ----


    During his first two years at Hogwarts, he¡¯d been carefree¡ªplaying wizard chess with Gareth, sneaking snacks from Professor Howin, and petting magical creatures with Poppy. Spellwork had been a secondary concern, something he only practiced enough to get by.


    Then Cassandra had dragged him into the Dueling Club. She humiliated him relentlessly, disarming him, suspending him in midair, or forcing him to dance uncontrollably during every duel.


    ¡°I was this close to beating you!¡± Harry would shout indignantly, dangling upside down.


    Cassandra would poke his cheek with her wand, smiling warmly¡ªat least 37 degrees warm¡ªwhile delivering words as cold as -37 degrees.


    ¡°You always settle for ¡®good enough,¡¯ Potter. And when the time comes, you¡¯ll always fall ¡®just short.¡¯ When will you grow up?¡±


    At the time, he¡¯d hated her for it. But during their first encounter with poachers in the Forbidden Forest, her training had saved his life.


    ¡°Next time, we won¡¯t be so lucky, Potter,¡± she¡¯d snapped after deflecting a spell meant for him. Her tone was sharp, but her movements calm as she cast a quick-healing charm on her arm.


    ----


    ¡°Harry? Harry?¡±


    Hermione¡¯s voice pulled him back to the present. She waved a hand in front of his face.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Harry blinked.


    ¡°You seemed distracted. Is something bothering you?¡± Hermione asked, concerned.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing,¡± Harry said with a smile. Then he turned to Neville and Seamus. ¡°I hope you two won¡¯t give up after just a few days of practice, complaining about how hard it is.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t!¡± Neville and Seamus said in unison.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s vote,¡± Harry announced. ¡°I propose we welcome two new members to our dueling club. I¡¯m in favor.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± Hermione said, raising her hand.


    ¡°Count me in too,¡± Ron added.


    ¡°Three to zero.¡± Harry extended his hand. ¡°Welcome aboard, Neville and Seamus.¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 52 : How to attack the professor

    As Christmas approached, the weather in the Scottish Highlands grew colder by the day.


    More and more students chose the warmth of the castle over the bitter chill outside. They clustered around fireplaces to soak in the heat, lingered at long tables over steaming meals, or found any excuse to avoid the biting cold altogether.


    The recent clash with the Slytherins had not reached the professors'' ears. The Gryffindor students were wise enough to steer clear of trouble, while the Slytherins were too prideful to admit their embarrassment. After all, upper-year students bullying younger ones and resorting to slurs like "Mudblood" would undoubtedly result in severe consequences¡ªeven Snape couldn¡¯t turn a blind eye to that.


    Before the Dueling Club could welcome new members, the Christmas holidays arrived right on schedule.


    At Hogwarts, Christmas break was a generous affair, stretching from mid-December to mid-January.


    A century ago, Harry had always spent Christmas at Hogwarts, save for the fifth-year trip to Nurmengard Castle. With nowhere else to go, the castle had become his sanctuary during the festive season.


    Now back in 1991, Harry technically had the option of returning to his aunt and uncle¡¯s house. But to him, that house had never been home. On the contrary, Hogwarts felt like his true refuge.


    So, when Professor McGonagall came by to register students staying over the holidays, Harry didn¡¯t hesitate to sign his name.


    It wasn¡¯t just that Hogwarts made him feel at ease; he also wanted more time to explore the castle''s secrets.


    As he sat casually eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table, he noticed that Ron and the others were still fast asleep in their dormitory. They¡¯d stayed up far too late celebrating the start of the holiday.


    The festive atmosphere gave Harry an idea: friends were supposed to exchange gifts at Christmas.


    Perhaps he could gift Ron a wand, Harry thought.


    But that posed a dilemma. Wands required the owner¡¯s presence for proper selection since the compatibility between wizard and wand was critical. And with Ron leaving for home in just a few days, randomly picking one from Ollivanders wouldn¡¯t do.


    ¡°It¡¯s him, it¡¯s him!¡±


    While Harry mulled over his thoughts, the Weasley twins suddenly appeared, flanking him on either side.


    ¡°Our little hero¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, our little lion king,¡± Fred corrected George. ¡°He defeated Slytherin¡ªin every sense of the word. Naturally, he¡¯s our lion king.¡±


    ¡°He crushed that Malfoy Percy idolizes and spat him back out,¡± George added with a grin. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered, ¡°So, little lion king, how about joining us in a brilliant plan?¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°What plan?¡± Harry asked, taking a bite of toast.


    ¡°Quirrell¡ªI mean, Professor Quirrell,¡± Fred said in a low voice. ¡°That stench he carries around is unbearable. Who knows what¡¯s really under that thick turban of his? I think it¡¯s garlic, but George here thinks it¡¯s hiding something more... sinister. Care to wager on it?¡±


    ¡°What kind of wager?¡± Harry asked, intrigued.


    ¡°About what¡¯s under his turban, of course,¡± the twins said in unison.


    Harry paused mid-scoop of baked beans, turning to study the twins more closely.


    He¡¯d always known they were fond of pranks, but he hadn¡¯t expected them to set their sights on a professor.


    Interesting... very interesting.


    Harry wasn¡¯t particularly fond of Professor Quirrell either. For someone tasked with teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirrell seemed remarkably adept at wasting everyone¡¯s time.


    What irked Harry even more was that if Quirrell¡¯s classes were merely dull, they might have been tolerable. But no¡ªhis lectures were not only mind-numbing but also accompanied by the overpowering stench of garlic, making it impossible to nap through class.


    Even Hermione, typically so respectful of authority, had taken to referring to him simply as ¡°Quirrell,¡± pointedly dropping the ¡°Professor.¡±


    So, Harry found himself intrigued by the twins¡¯ plan and reluctant to pass up the chance to make Quirrell¡¯s life a bit more difficult.


    ¡°But wait,¡± Harry said suddenly. ¡°Aren¡¯t you two going home for the holidays?¡±


    ¡°Change of plans. Mum and Dad are off to Romania to visit Charlie,¡± Fred replied. ¡°You¡¯ve heard of Charlie, right? The Gryffindor Seeker and captain before you. He¡¯s working with dragons in Romania now¡ªRon must¡¯ve mentioned him.¡±


    ¡°That sounds amazing,¡± Harry said, relieved that his earlier dilemma about Ron was now resolved.


    Since Ron wasn¡¯t leaving, Harry could take him to Ollivanders in Diagon Alley instead.


    ¡°It is amazing,¡± Fred agreed. ¡°Charlie actually wanted to go professional in Quidditch, but Mum insisted on a more ¡®respectable¡¯ career. To avoid disappointing her, he gave up his dream. Can you imagine? He used to talk about Quidditch non-stop, even during meals.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s really unfortunate,¡± Harry said. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? How are you going to get Quirrell to take off his turban?¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s how,¡± Fred and George said, leaning closer to outline their scheme in hushed tones.


    ¡°Quirrell leaves his classroom at exactly eight every morning to head to breakfast. With all the recent snowfall, we could aim snowballs at the back of his head. He¡¯ll have to take off the turban to clean up. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± Harry said with a nod. The plan was simple and had a plausible excuse.


    If caught, they could always claim it was an accidental misthrow during a friendly snowball fight. Surely, no professor would take that too seriously.


    The twins exchanged gleeful looks and high-fived.


    ¡°I knew our lion king wouldn¡¯t turn us down!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s seven forty now. We¡¯d better prepare,¡± George said.


    Harry considered it briefly and decided that snowballs alone might not suffice.


    ¡°Wait here. I¡¯ll grab something from the dormitory,¡± he told them.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Fred asked curiously.


    ¡°If the snowballs don¡¯t work, this will,¡± Harry said cryptically before heading off.


    Back in the dormitory, his three roommates were still fast asleep.


    Since there were no classes, Harry decided not to disturb them.


    His attention turned to the window, where a potted plant sat.


    The plump, wriggling biting cabbage looked quite content in its pot.


    Neville had been diligently caring for it, watering and fertilizing it with precision.


    Harry smiled, thinking that Neville¡¯s enthusiasm for Herbology could definitely be nurtured further. Plants like Mandrakes, Venomous Tentacula, and biting cabbages were all formidable allies for wizards in battle.


    ----


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 Chapter 53: Ambush Quirrell

    Harry slipped the biting Chinese cabbage into a small pouch¡ªan item he''d purchased earlier in Diagon Alley from a rather mysterious wizard.


    The pouch, enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, was no longer legally sold to the general public. Such enchantments were now restricted, with exceptions made only for school trunks that first-years had to buy from certified vendors.


    He also slid a pair of dragon-hide gloves into his pocket. Without proper protection, handling a Chinese biting cabbage could wreak havoc on one¡¯s hands.


    ¡°I should grab some biting cabbage seeds next time I¡¯m in Diagon Alley,¡± Harry mused to himself. Neville was adept at cultivating peculiar plants like these¡ªdelegating the task to him seemed like a no-brainer.


    But seeds for biting cabbage weren¡¯t sold to young wizards in Diagon Alley. For those, one would need to venture into the shadowy recesses of Knockturn Alley.


    Tucking the enchanted pouch securely, Harry tiptoed out of the dormitory.


    When he reached the Great Hall, the Weasley twins were already waiting¡ªand visibly impatient.


    ¡°Oh, finally!¡± Fred exclaimed.


    ¡°Fred thought you¡¯d chickened out and decided to bail,¡± George added with a smirk.


    ¡°Relax. Even if you two ran off, I wouldn¡¯t,¡± Harry retorted, his tone firm. ¡°Gryffindor doesn¡¯t lack courage, right?¡±


    ¡°Courage like persuading Quirrell to take off that suspicious turban of his?¡± The twins exchanged glances and clapped their hands together in unison. ¡°Yeah, sounds about right!¡±


    Harry rolled his eyes. ¡°Listen up.¡± He sat down, drumming his fingers on the table. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan: the three of us will follow Quirrell as scheduled. You two are in charge of throwing snowballs. If he takes off the turban, perfect. If not, I¡¯ll handle the next part. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Got it, Lion King,¡± the twins chorused.


    ¡°Good.¡± Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. ¡°It¡¯s 7:50 now. We¡¯ve got ten minutes to set up¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Hedwig swooped into the hall, wings laboring against the bitter cold. She seemed so drained that she practically crash-landed into Harry¡¯s arms, like a bird shot from the sky.


    ¡°Your owl doesn¡¯t look great,¡± Fred observed. ¡°You should get her some tonic. The weather¡¯s brutal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Harry agreed, carefully taking a letter from Hedwig¡¯s beak.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Ooh, ooh!¡± George¡¯s eyes lit up as he spotted the handwriting on the envelope. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s from a girl¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough, George! Respect his privacy,¡± Fred chided, dragging his brother back before turning to Harry. ¡°We¡¯ll scout ahead for you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll catch up soon,¡± Harry replied.


    Once the twins left, Harry unfolded the letter. A faint scent of vanilla drifted up as he read:


    <hr>


    Dear Mr. Potter,


    I must apologize for yesterday. Being a Slytherin Prefect carries not only honor but also responsibility.


    Might you have time today? I¡¯ll be waiting in the empty classroom on the second floor. Please send your reply with your owl. I¡¯ll await your response.


    Sincerely,


    Gemma Farley


    <hr>


    ¡°Gemma Farley?¡± Harry murmured, folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope.


    What could she want?


    An invitation was an invitation, and Harry saw no reason to decline.


    I¡¯m a Gryffindor¡ªwhy should I be afraid of a Slytherin?


    Borrowing paper and a quill from a cheerful Hufflepuff boy nearby, Harry quickly penned a response and handed it to Hedwig.


    ¡°Thanks for the quill and parchment,¡± Harry said, returning the items. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Harry Potter.¡±


    ¡°Of course I know who you are!¡± the boy said with a bright grin, extending a hand. ¡°Cedric Diggory. Just call me Cedric.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Cedric,¡± Harry nodded before pointing toward the door. ¡°Sorry, the twins are waiting for me outside.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let me keep you, Harry,¡± Cedric chuckled. ¡°Go on before they get impatient.¡±


    Downing a quick glass of water, Harry bade Cedric farewell and hurried out.


    The twins were crouched behind some bushes, shivering against the icy wind.


    ¡°Guys.¡±


    Harry ducked behind the bushes and froze. His eyes fell on the massive stockpile of snowballs behind them¡ªenough to supply Napoleon¡¯s artillery corps.


    ¡°What the¡ª?! The plan was to hit Quirrell! Not every professor on campus!¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± Fred said nonchalantly, grabbing a snowball the size of two fists. ¡°These are the ordinary ones.¡± He crushed it with a dramatic flourish.


    ¡°This,¡± George added, holding another, ¡°is the enhanced version.¡± He brushed off the surface snow, revealing a gleaming ice core.


    Harry¡¯s eyelid twitched. Good grief, these two are terrifying.


    All I wanted was to chuck a Chinese biting cabbage at Quirrell. But this? What are they even trying to do?!


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this overkill?¡± Harry ventured cautiously.


    ¡°Well,¡± Fred shrugged, ¡°it beats sitting through another class of garlic fumes. Honestly, I¡¯d rather have Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. At least we¡¯d learn something useful¡ªeven if Gryffindor lost a hundred points.¡±


    ¡°Shh!¡± George suddenly grabbed their sleeves. ¡°Someone¡¯s coming!¡±


    The three of them peered over the bushes to see Quirrell strolling toward the Great Hall, a book clutched under one arm.


    ¡°Ready¡ª¡± Fred whispered.


    The twins lobbed their snowballs at Quirrell¡¯s turban.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?!¡± Quirrell yelped, swatting at his head. But no matter how frantically he flailed, the turban remained firmly in place.


    As the twins prepared their ¡°enhanced¡± snowballs, Harry stopped them.


    ¡°Let me.¡±


    Donning his dragon-hide gloves, Harry reached into his enchanted pouch. The twins watched as he pulled out the Chinese biting cabbage, now wriggling slightly in the frigid air.


    Harry approached Quirrell, feigning a stumble as he neared.


    The flowerpot shattered with a sharp crack, sending the cabbage bouncing across the ground like a rogue Bludger.


    In seconds, it latched onto Quirrell¡¯s neck.


    ¡°AAAAHHHHHHH!!!¡±


    Quirrell¡¯s piercing scream echoed through the grounds.


    ----


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 Chapter 54: Quirrell Secret

    The anguished scream was so loud that even the students in the Great Hall heard it clearly.


    Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Muggle-born Hufflepuff dozing at his table, jerked awake.


    "Whose cat is that?"


    ----


    Outside the hall, Professor Quirrell was frantically pounding at the biting cabbage latched onto the back of his head. His pained howls echoed through the castle.


    "Professor Quirrell?"


    Professor McGonagall hurried over, flanked by Professors Flitwick and Sprout.


    Seeing the cabbage stubbornly clamped down, Professor Sprout rushed forward. She used some unknown method, and the cabbage finally let go, twisting its round body before leaping obediently into her arms.


    "Professor Quirrell, are you all right?" Professor Sprout asked with concern. "Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"


    Lying in the snow, Quirrell eyed the cabbage trembling in Sprout''s arms with visible dread. He scrambled backward on his hands and knees.


    The pain from the bite was secondary; what worried him was the wrath of that man...


    The memory of the torment he had endured after cursing Potter¡¯s broomstick during the last Quidditch match sent a shiver down his spine.


    Just the thought made him break out in a cold sweat.


    "I... I''m fine," Quirrell stammered, even as blood trickled from his wounded scalp.


    The crimson seeped into his turban, darkening it. With every movement, cloves of garlic soaked in blood fell to the ground.


    "I¡¯ll just... go handle this... excuse me," Quirrell stuttered, clutching his turban tightly as he fled awkwardly.


    Harry had been watching the scene and couldn¡¯t help but notice Quirrell¡¯s odd behavior. Normally, a professor targeted by such a prank would at least scold the students involved. But instead of getting angry, Quirrell¡¯s first reaction was to flee.


    Could it be... that there really was a secret hidden under his turban?


    "Weasley twins?" McGonagall''s sharp tone interrupted his thoughts. She had caught sight of Fred and George sneaking back into the Great Hall.


    "Why are you two here?" she demanded. "And don¡¯t tell me that biting cabbage was one of your pranks!"


    "Sorry, Professor," Harry spoke up quickly before the twins could respond. "That biting cabbage was a gift from Professor Sprout. This morning, I noticed it wasn¡¯t behaving quite right, so I brought it here to show her."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "Is that so?" McGonagall¡¯s gaze scrutinized Harry.


    Behind her, the twins let out a silent sigh of relief, giving Harry discreet thumbs-up signs.


    Good lad. Loyal to a fault.


    Harry nodded earnestly. "Yes, Professor."


    "That¡¯s correct, Minerva," Professor Sprout chimed in. "The cabbage was a gift from me to Mr. Potter."


    "And what exactly is wrong with it?" McGonagall pressed.


    "It seemed a bit listless," Harry replied.


    As soon as the words left his mouth, the cabbage snapped its jaws with an audible clomp-clomp, as though it hadn¡¯t bitten enough.


    "You call that listless?" McGonagall¡¯s eyes narrowed suspiciously.


    For a brief moment, she thought she saw James in Harry. But she quickly shook off the thought.


    Merlin¡¯s beard, no! Potter is just like his mother, not his father. He couldn¡¯t possibly be as mischievous as James.


    It must have been her imagination.


    "Apologies, Professor. It really was like that earlier today," Harry said, putting on a woeful expression and looking up at McGonagall with wide, pleading green eyes. "It¡¯s my fault. I wasn¡¯t careful and tripped, flinging the cabbage. I didn¡¯t think it would..."


    McGonagall¡¯s heart softened instantly.


    Yes, Lily¡¯s child couldn¡¯t possibly have done such a thing on purpose.


    It had to be an accident.


    Her expression softened as she said, "Since it wasn¡¯t intentional, I won¡¯t punish you further, Mr. Potter. However, Gryffindor will lose ten points."


    "As for you two..." She turned her stern gaze on the Weasley twins.


    "Professor, we¡ª" Fred and George began.


    But McGonagall cut them off, her face hard. "The snowball cannons behind the shrubbery... that was your doing?"


    "Yes, Professor," they admitted in unison.


    "Both of you will serve detention in my office after the holidays," she declared, leaving no room for argument.


    "Yes, Professor," they replied. As soon as she turned away, they exchanged a glance of relief.


    Whew! Detention? Could¡¯ve been worse.


    Once McGonagall left, the twins flanked Harry, throwing their arms over his shoulders.


    "Well done, mate," they chorused. "Didn¡¯t sell us out."


    Harry shrugged. "It¡¯s nothing. But now I¡¯m even more curious about what¡¯s under Professor Quirrell¡¯s turban. Think about it¡ªhit by snowballs, bitten by that cabbage, and he still wouldn¡¯t take it off. There¡¯s definitely something he¡¯s hiding."


    "Yeah, you¡¯re right," Fred agreed. "He¡¯d rather let us off the hook than risk exposing what¡¯s under there. That¡¯s strange."


    "Could it be something on the back of his head?" George wondered. "Like a nasty growth? Or... what if it¡¯s dragon pox?"


    "If it were dragon pox, it wouldn¡¯t only affect his head," Harry pointed out. "His face and hands would show signs too. It¡¯s unlikely."


    He paused, then added thoughtfully, "I don¡¯t think it¡¯s an illness. Maybe he¡¯s dabbling in some kind of dark magic and doesn¡¯t want anyone to know."


    "Dark magic?!" the twins exclaimed in hushed voices. "But he¡¯s the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Why would he be studying dark magic?"


    "Well, as the saying goes, ¡®Know your enemy to defeat your enemy,¡¯" Harry replied with a shrug. "Anyone skilled in defending against dark magic would have to know it well. Otherwise, how could they counter it?"


    "That makes sense," the twins said in unison. "But how do you know?"


    "It¡¯s simple," Harry explained. "If it were just an illness, even dragon pox, there wouldn¡¯t be any reason to hide it. But he¡¯s clearly desperate to keep the turban¡¯s secret, even at the cost of his dignity. If it¡¯s not dark magic, what else could it be?"


    The twins¡¯ eyes lit up.


    "So, what should we do?" they asked together.


    ----


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 Chapter 55: No One Understands Malfoy Better Than Me

    "That might have to wait," Harry said.


    The twins exchanged a glance and asked in unison, "Why?"


    "Well, the first time, you could claim it was unintentional. But if you do it again, it would look like you''re deliberately pranking a professor," Harry shrugged.


    "You''re right," the twins said with a chuckle. "Anyway, there are no classes today. Want to join us for a snowball fight?"


    "No, I¡¯ve got something to do," Harry declined.


    As he was about to head to the Great Hall, Harry looked up and saw Hagrid dragging a massive fir tree inside.


    At Hogwarts, the only person capable of moving such a huge tree with sheer muscle was Hagrid.


    "Need a hand, Hagrid?" Harry called out.


    Hagrid''s shaggy head popped out from behind the tree, a warm smile on his face. "Thanks, Harry, but I¡¯ve got it. You go on to the Great Hall."


    Not arguing, Harry turned and continued on his way.


    Unfortunately, Professor Sprout hadn¡¯t returned the biting cabbage to him. After all, it had been the culprit that had chomped down on the back of Professor Quirrell''s head.


    "Hey, mate," Ron greeted, already up and about. "Do you know where that biting cabbage ended up? Neville¡¯s going crazy looking for it."


    "Professor Sprout confiscated it," Harry replied. "I accidentally tripped while carrying it, and it flew out and bit Professor Quirrell on the back of the head."


    Ron leaned back dramatically, his eyes wide.


    After a moment, he managed to croak, "That¡¯s¡­ actually kind of cool. I thought that cabbage was just ornamental, but turns out it¡¯s for biting professors."


    As the holidays approached, the students¡¯ minds were wandering.


    Those who would usually pretend to study in the Great Hall had given up the act, instead happily chatting about their plans for the break.


    After lunch, Harry remembered his appointment with Miss Fawley and left the Great Hall.


    "This is so frustrating," Hermione muttered, ruffling her hair in annoyance. She¡¯d hoped to squeeze in some study time in the hall.


    Looking up, she saw Ron playing wizard chess with Neville.


    "Look at you. All you ever do is play wizard chess. It¡¯s pathetic!" Hermione began scolding him.


    Ron puffed out his cheeks indignantly. "What else am I supposed to do? It¡¯s the holidays! Besides, aren¡¯t you going home? Why are you still here at Hogwarts?"The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "It¡¯s only the 16th! I leave tomorrow," Hermione said quietly. "But you, Ronald¡ªwe promised Harry that after the holidays, we¡¯d start real combat practice. Have you memorized your spells?"


    "Of course I have," Ron replied confidently.


    "Then tell me, what¡¯s the incantation for the Stunning spell?" Hermione asked.


    Ron froze. He stammered for a while but couldn¡¯t come up with the answer.


    "Fine. Then what¡¯s the incantation for the Blasting Curse?" she pressed.


    "Uh..." Ron wracked his brain but drew a blank again.


    Hermione gave him a disdainful look and asked one more time, "What about the Petrification Spell?"


    "That one I know!" Ron exclaimed, a lightbulb going off. "You used it on Crabbe and Goyle on the train!"


    Hermione¡¯s face softened into a faint smile.


    But then Ron¡¯s next words made her hang her head in despair.


    "Uh, what¡¯s the incantation again?"


    Scratching his head awkwardly, Ron grabbed a nearby soda can and took a big swig.


    "Cut back on the soda, Ron. It¡¯s bad for your teeth," Hermione advised. "My dad¡¯s a dentist, and that¡¯s what he always tells me."


    "It¡¯s fine," Ron said. "The wizarding world has Tooth-Strengthening Potions. Haven¡¯t you heard of them? Our very own Dumbledore even endorsed them."


    "Now that you mention it, I remember seeing something about that in my Potions book," Hermione said thoughtfully. "If it works, maybe I should buy some to take home. It might boost my dad¡¯s dental practice!"


    Ron didn¡¯t reply, taking another sip of his soda.


    "Weasley," drawled Draco¡¯s irritating voice.


    Seeing that Harry wasn¡¯t around, Draco had regained his usual swagger.


    "Malfoy?" Ron turned, soda in hand, to see Draco¡¯s pale, sharp face.


    "Is that a Muggle drink you¡¯re holding?" Draco sneered. "Just like your family¡ªcompletely disgraceful. Not only do you befriend... Muggle-borns, but you even use their products. Truly the shame of pure-bloods."


    Ron¡¯s face turned red as he gripped the soda can, ready to throw it.


    But Hermione stopped him, firing back, "Oh? Really? I wonder what your ancestors would think of you mocking the descendants of their old allies."


    "What do you mean?" Draco asked, frowning.


    "You don¡¯t know?" Hermione gasped theatrically, covering her mouth. "Goodness, the ancestors of the Malfoy family fought side by side with the Weasleys to quell the Goblin Rebellion. You didn¡¯t know that?"


    "I... I..." Draco stammered, suddenly unsure.


    Could the Mudblood be telling the truth? Draco wondered. But then again, why hadn¡¯t his father mentioned it?


    "What nonsense are you spouting?" Draco snapped, trying to recover. "How would a Muggle-born like you know anything about the Malfoy family?"


    "Oh, poor thing," Hermione said, wagging a finger mockingly. "Imagine not knowing your own family history. Shame on you!"


    Draco¡¯s face turned crimson¡ªnot because of Hermione¡¯s tone, but because of her words. Not knowing more than a Muggle-born about the Malfoy family? That was humiliating.


    "Impossible! If that were true, my father would have told me! You¡¯re just making things up to defend your little boyfriend!" Draco retorted.


    Hermione pulled out a book and slammed it on the table with a thud, reading aloud an account of Cassandra Malfoy¡¯s exploits.


    Draco leaned in reluctantly. The detailed records made him doubt his own knowledge.


    If it was true, why hadn¡¯t the Malfoy family celebrated this history? And if it wasn¡¯t, why was it documented here?


    He noticed the author¡¯s name on the title page¡ªBathilda Bagshot. Her reputation in magical history rivaled only that of Professor Binns.


    "Ask your father about it, Malfoy," Ron chimed in, playing along. "Ask him if there was a Cassandra Malfoy. It¡¯s hard to believe that the so-called proud Malfoys would ignore such a shining figure in their family¡¯s history. Really makes you wonder who the true disgrace to pure-bloods is!"


    Draco was visibly shaken.


    Without another word, he stormed off, planning to confront his father about it during the holidays.


    ----


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 Chapter 56: That’s Just How Slytherins Are

    The holidays had finally arrived. Early in the morning, Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express to return home. Among her dormmates, only Ron stayed back at Hogwarts, while Seamus and Neville had also gone home for the break.


    As Hermione read in her compartment, a knock came at the door.


    "Excuse me, is anyone here?"


    Initially annoyed at the interruption, Hermione looked up and was surprised to see Harry and Ron standing there.


    ¡°Harry? Ron?¡± she exclaimed, her mood lifting. ¡°What are you two doing on the train? I thought you were staying at the castle!¡±


    ¡°Harry wanted to visit Diagon Alley and asked me to come along,¡± Ron explained with a shrug. ¡°Besides, we figured we¡¯d make sure no Slytherins gave you any trouble on the way.¡±


    Hermione smiled. ¡°That won¡¯t happen. Didn¡¯t Harry already settle things with Miss Fawley?¡± she asked, setting her book aside. ¡°Speaking of which, I heard she met with you yesterday afternoon?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Harry replied, leaning back lazily in his seat.


    Hermione and Ron¡¯s curiosity was piqued. ¡°What did you two talk about?¡± they asked in unison.


    ¡°Not much,¡± Harry said. ¡°She wants to be friends with me. You know how Slytherins are.¡±


    Indeed, in Harry¡¯s experience, Slytherins were straightforward: they ignored those without talent but respected those who demonstrated ability. It was a far cry from the current crop of Slytherins, who clung to outdated notions of pure-blood superiority, parading their lineage like peacocks without realizing how the world had changed.


    Ron scratched his head. ¡°Is that what Slytherins are like?¡± he asked skeptically. To him, they¡¯d always seemed far worse.


    It was hard to blame Ron. The Slytherins he knew were mostly descendants of Voldemort¡¯s Death Eaters¡ªarrogant and cruel. Compared to someone like Grindelwald or Vinda Rosier, who exuded an air of sophistication, Voldemort¡¯s followers lacked class.


    And Voldemort himself? Trying to kill a one-year-old and failing so miserably? No dignity at all.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°At least Miss Fawley seems decent,¡± Hermione observed. ¡°Her earlier duel challenge was likely just her way of fulfilling her duties as a prefect.¡±


    ¡°Be honest, mate,¡± Ron said, turning to Harry. ¡°Did she ever try to threaten you using her family?¡±


    Harry smiled reassuringly. ¡°Relax, she¡¯s not like that.¡±


    Their meeting had been uneventful¡ªGemma had simply expressed her desire to be friends. Harry didn¡¯t see a reason to refuse; as the saying went, the more friends you had, the more doors opened. Who knew? She might prove helpful someday.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re both here, why not come over to my house for a while?¡± Hermione suggested. ¡°There¡¯s plenty of space.¡±


    ¡°We still need to go to Diagon Alley,¡± Ron replied.


    Hermione raised an eyebrow. ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°Christmas presents,¡± Harry explained. ¡°It¡¯s tradition to exchange gifts, and Ron needs to pick out his.¡±


    ¡°What kind of gift?¡± Hermione asked, intrigued.


    Harry turned to Ron. ¡°Have you noticed that learning spells feels harder for you? Like there¡¯s resistance when you use your wand?¡±


    Ron thought for a moment before nodding. ¡°Now that you mention it, yeah.¡±


    ¡°There you go,¡± Harry said, draping an arm around Ron¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Mr. Ollivander told me wands choose their wizards. If your wand doesn¡¯t suit you, it could be why spells feel difficult. So, your Christmas gift will be a new wand.¡±


    Ron was speechless for a moment before muttering, ¡°Thanks, Harry.¡±


    ¡°What are friends for?¡± Harry laughed. ¡°Besides, you¡¯ll need to duel Hermione when school starts again. Can¡¯t have you blaming your wand if you lose.¡±


    Ron grinned. ¡°At least it¡¯s a solid excuse if I do.¡±


    ¡°Oh, boys¡­¡± Hermione shook her head with a fond sigh.


    As the train pulled into the station, Hermione stopped them before they parted ways.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you come to my house for dinner first?¡± she offered. ¡°My dad can drive you to Diagon Alley afterward. It¡¯s a long walk from King¡¯s Cross to the Leaky Cauldron.¡±


    Harry considered it and nodded. ¡°Thanks, Hermione. That¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    As they exited their compartment, they ran into Draco Malfoy, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle.


    To their surprise, Draco avoided eye contact. Upon seeing Hermione, he hastily lowered his head and hurried past, looking almost frightened.


    ¡°What¡¯s with him?¡± Harry asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Hermione replied with a sly smile.


    At the station¡¯s exit, the Grangers were waiting. Hermione had sent word via owl. Her father, Askin, had an unmistakably English name, while her mother, Claire, was a gentle and warm woman.


    When they learned that Harry and Ron were Hermione¡¯s classmates, the Grangers warmly invited them to visit.


    Ron¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of Mr. Granger¡¯s car. ¡°Whoa! Is this a car?¡±


    Hermione raised an eyebrow. ¡°You know what a car is?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ron replied defensively. ¡°My dad has one, though it¡¯s nowhere near as fancy as this. It doesn¡¯t have that golden snitch-looking emblem either.¡±


    Following his gaze, they spotted a winged ¡°B¡± emblem gleaming on the car¡¯s hood¡ªa clear sign that this was no ordinary vehicle.


    ----


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 Chapter 57 "The Malfoy Family, a Secret History"

    The Granger household consisted of dentists. They weren¡¯t destitute by any means, but neither could they be described as fabulously wealthy.


    There¡¯s an old saying: ¡°Gold teeth and silver eyes.¡±


    Dentistry, after all, was a lucrative profession. For the Grangers, being exceptional in their field meant their clinic was always bustling with patients.


    Take their Bentley Arnage, for instance¡ªit represented half a year¡¯s income for Mr. Granger.


    Oddly enough, Mr. Granger had taken quite a liking to Ron Weasley, particularly fascinated by Mr. Weasley¡¯s enchanted flying car.


    To this Muggle gentleman, even a hundred Bentleys couldn¡¯t hold a candle to the wonder of a car that could soar through the skies.


    ¡°That¡¯s just so coooool,¡± he exclaimed, his enthusiasm genuine and unrestrained.


    Throughout their journey, Mr. Granger couldn¡¯t stop peppering Ron with questions about the car, even suggesting that Ron ask his father if Mr. Granger could visit the Burrow during the summer to see it.


    Ron, naturally, agreed without hesitation. Despite it being their first meeting, he found himself genuinely liking Mr. Granger.


    ***


    Meanwhile, back at Malfoy Manor, Draco had already returned home.


    The moment he stepped inside, his face was clouded with displeasure.


    ¡°Draco?¡± Narcissa Malfoy asked, her voice tinged with concern. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? You¡¯ve been in a foul mood since you arrived. Did something happen at school?¡±


    Draco shook his head, his thoughts etched plainly across his face.


    ¡°Let¡¯s eat first,¡± Narcissa said gently, sensing he wasn¡¯t ready to talk. ¡°I had Dobby prepare your favorite¡ªred wine-braised beef.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mother,¡± Draco replied, managing a faint smile as he followed her to the dining room.


    Narcissa took her seat to Lucius¡¯s right, while Draco sat across from her.


    ¡°Ah, Draco,¡± Lucius said, glancing up briefly from the Daily Prophet, ¡°congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin.¡±


    ¡°You already congratulated me in your letter, Father,¡± Draco replied, his eyes flicking to the newspaper obscuring Lucius¡¯s face. For some reason, he felt a sudden surge of boldness.


    ¡°You lied to me,¡± Draco blurted out. ¡°The Sorting Ceremony doesn¡¯t involve fighting a werewolf...¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He thought he heard a faint, synchronized ¡°pfft¡± from both his parents¡ªa sound so subtle it might have been missed if not for his heightened awareness.


    Could it be? Were they stifling laughter?


    Impossible. Absolutely not.


    ¡°All right, Draco,¡± Narcissa interjected gently, cutting him off. ¡°Finish your meal. Your father has been waiting to speak with you.¡±


    Draco had a nagging suspicion that his mother was suppressing laughter, but he had no proof. He merely mumbled an ¡°okay¡± and sullenly ate the meal he would have otherwise relished.


    After dinner, when the house-elves served tea, Draco hesitated several times before finally mustering the courage to speak.


    ¡°Draco, if something¡¯s on your mind, just tell your father,¡± Narcissa urged, giving Lucius a pointed look.


    With a sigh, Lucius lowered his newspaper.


    ¡°It¡¯s like this, Father.¡± Draco took a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. ¡°I heard some troubling rumors at school...¡±


    ¡°Troubling rumors?¡± Lucius¡¯s gaze sharpened as he exchanged a glance with Narcissa. Could someone at school have said something to upset Draco? Or worse, had whispers about Lucius¡¯s past as a Death Eater reached his son¡¯s ears?


    ¡°What kind of rumors?¡± Lucius asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re about our ancestors.¡± Draco hesitated. ¡°Is it true that someone in our family once fought alongside a Weasley to suppress a goblin rebellion and destroy the Ashwinder? I heard her name was... Cassandra.¡±


    The moment the name escaped Draco¡¯s lips, Lucius¡¯s expression shifted dramatically.


    ¡°Who told you that name?¡± he demanded sharply.


    ¡°A classmate,¡± Draco stammered, swallowing hard. ¡°One of Harry Potter¡¯s friends.¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡± Lucius thundered, slamming his serpent-headed cane onto the floor. ¡°How dare you... how dare you mention that name!¡±


    Draco flinched, startled by his father¡¯s intensity.


    Harry Potter?


    Why was that name so taboo?


    Saint Potter!


    ¡°H-he¡¯s my classmate,¡± Draco mumbled softly.


    Lucius froze briefly before his features softened ever so slightly. He exhaled and began rubbing the silver serpent on his cane with his thumb.


    ¡°Oh, you were talking about Harry Potter. I thought you meant... him.¡±


    ¡°¡®Him¡¯? What do you mean?¡± Draco asked, perplexed. ¡°Was there another Harry Potter?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Lucius replied, his tone dry and uneasy.


    Taking a sip of tea to moisten his throat, he continued, ¡°As you might guess, there was another Harry Potter. You know the title ¡®the Dark Lord¡¯? It was originally used, not for the dark wizard we know, but to describe this man.¡±


    ¡°Was he more terrifying than the Dark Lord?¡± Draco asked, leaning back in astonishment.


    ¡°Hmm... many truths about him have been obscured by goblins over the years,¡± Lucius mused. ¡°But you¡¯re correct. Our family did have an ancestor named Cassandra Malfoy. She was your grandfather Abraxas¡¯s aunt, which makes her my grandaunt and your great-grandaunt.¡±


    Lucius paused, as though weighing how much to reveal.


    ¡°There¡¯s no harm in telling you now since you¡¯ve already heard part of it. She followed that man¡ªalong with his companions¡ªto thwart the goblins¡¯ rebellion and destroy the Ashwinder. However, in their final confrontation with the goblin leader Ranrok, he perished alongside the goblin. No one knows what became of him.¡±


    ¡°So... he just died?¡± Draco asked, frowning.


    ¡°Some believe he died; others think he survived,¡± Lucius replied, a trace of melancholy coloring his voice. ¡°As for Cassandra, she was an extraordinarily gifted witch. According to your great-grandfather, at your age, she could already cast a flawless Shield Charm.¡±


    ¡°Then why have I never heard of her before?¡± Draco pressed. ¡°If the Malfoy family produced such an exceptional witch, why isn¡¯t her name celebrated? Why hasn¡¯t anyone¡ªGrandfather or you¡ªever mentioned her?¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 58: Family Secrets

    "The exact details of it, even your grandfather never heard from your great-grandfather," Lucius said, lightly tapping his fingers on the table. A house-elf scurried forward to refill his tea. "Part of the reason involves the goblins, so the Malfoy family also agreed to avoid mentioning Cassandra."


    "Does that mean the Malfoy family fears the goblins?" Draco asked incredulously, staring at his father.


    "No, my dragon," Lucius replied gently. "If the goblins hadn¡¯t shown enough sincerity, how could the Malfoy family agree to such a request? Moreover," he continued, "your grandfather once told me that the family¡¯s agreement with the goblins was convenient, but the real reason was that Cassandra stole the Merlin heirloom passed down through our family. Your great-grandfather was so furious that he erased her name from the Malfoy family tree."


    "Why would she do that?" Draco asked, perplexed. "And where is she now?"


    "No one knows. It¡¯s said that during that time, she was deeply distraught, constantly muttering about that Potter boy... After that, she disappeared," Lucius said, lifting his teacup. "However, your great-grandfather left a dying wish: if Cassandra is ever found, she must be welcomed back into the Malfoy family. Ha! As if that¡¯s possible. So many years have passed; she¡¯s probably long dead."


    "Or perhaps she¡¯s still alive? Why else would Great-Grandfather say that?" Draco asked hesitantly, feeling a strange certainty that Cassandra might still be out there.


    "Because Cassandra was his most beloved little sister," Lucius replied. "People always struggle to accept the loss of their loved ones."


    Draco nodded in understanding.


    "Tell me about your classmates," Lucius said casually. "No need to mention the Slytherins. How about that Potter boy¡ªthe one who defeated the Dark Lord?"


    At his father¡¯s prompt, Draco began recounting how he met Harry, describing their interactions in detail.


    When he mentioned insulting Hermione as a ¡®Mudblood¡¯ on the train, both Lucius and Narcissa¡¯s faces darkened.


    "Perhaps you should be more mindful of the company you keep, my dragon," Lucius said gravely. "We may disdain Muggle-born wizards, but someone with proper upbringing would never say such a thing to their face. It brings shame upon our entire family."


    "Yes, Father," Draco quickly apologized. "I was wrong."


    He went on to describe Harry¡¯s proficiency with spells, particularly his impressive duel with Miss Farley.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "Gemma from the Farley family?" Lucius mused, nodding thoughtfully. "She¡¯s a talented young witch. Her spellcasting is exceptional, even among adults. So you¡¯re saying Harry Potter, a mere first-year, managed to defeat her in a wizard¡¯s duel?"


    "Yes, Father," Draco affirmed, straightening his posture under his father¡¯s gaze. "I witnessed the duel myself. Before that, Potter had already bested Marcus Flint and his friends."


    Lucius fell silent, exchanging a meaningful glance with Narcissa before addressing Draco. "I understand. Perhaps you should consider befriending Potter instead of antagonizing him. If you keep your eyes open, you¡¯ll likely find that Miss Farley has already approached him."


    "But, Father," Draco protested, frowning. "Potter associates with the Weasleys¡ªthe disgrace of purebloods¡ªand a Mud¡ªMuggle-born."


    "Draco?" Lucius raised an eyebrow and spoke in a sing-song tone. "What did I just say?"


    "Yes, Father," Draco quickly amended, "The Malfoy family prioritizes interests above all else."


    Lucius relaxed his expression, pleased with his son¡¯s realization, and added, "And family above all else."


    ***


    Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were enjoying the warm hospitality of the Granger family.


    Mr. Granger, ever the charming host, treated the boys with respect, devoid of the usual condescension adults often show toward children. His demeanor was so amiable it felt like a refreshing breeze.


    Dinner was a feast. Harry and Ron ate to their heart¡¯s content, especially Ron, who started out shy but soon abandoned all pretense once the meal began. By the end, he was slumped in his chair, groaning with satisfaction.


    "Who wants pudding?" Mrs. Granger asked as she brought in dessert.


    "Only if I undo my belt, dear," Mr. Granger replied weakly, leaning back in his chair.


    "I¡¯ve already undone mine," Harry echoed, leaning back as well.


    In England, finding such delicious food was a rare treat.


    "I took mine off as soon as the caramel potatoes and roasted lamb came out," Ron chimed in, holding up his belt with a sigh. "Auntie Granger, your cooking is amazing¡ªbetter than my mum¡¯s..."


    "Alright, gentlemen," Mrs. Granger said with an indulgent smile, setting down the pudding. "Why don¡¯t you head to the living room? Leave the cleanup to me."


    "You mean... stand up?" Mr. Granger asked, glancing up.


    "I don¡¯t think I can," Harry admitted, shifting in his chair to no avail.


    "I didn¡¯t even wear a belt," Ron added matter-of-factly.


    "Men," Hermione muttered, shaking her head at the trio.


    Under the Grangers¡¯ warm invitation, Harry and Ron stayed the night.


    "After all, where else would you go but back to the castle?" Mr. Granger had said.


    The television buzzed softly in the background. Ron, fascinated, stared at it intently¡ªhis first encounter with such a device.


    "These are turbulent times..." Mr. Granger commented while watching the news. "I think I should take out a loan in rubles and exchange it for pounds. What do you think, dear?"


    "Whatever you decide," Mrs. Granger replied, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.


    "Then it¡¯s decided," Mr. Granger said, turning to Harry and Ron. "Boys, I¡¯ll be heading to the bank tomorrow. I can drop you off at the Leaky Cauldron if you like."


    "Thank you, Uncle Granger," Harry said gratefully.


    He turned to Hermione. "Hermione, are you coming?"


    "I¡¯ll pass," Hermione said, shrugging. "I need to organize Christmas gifts at home. Oh no¡ªI just remembered, I still need to prepare presents for the professors! I hope the owls can handle it."


    Her words reminded Harry of something important.


    That¡¯s right¡ªwhat should he get the professors?


    ----


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 Chapter 59: Out-of-Body Experience

    Harry had already given much thought to the gifts he would prepare for his professors.


    It wasn¡¯t just about the professors; even his classmates¡ªand surprisingly, his cousin Dudley¡ªdeserved something this year.


    But Professor Snape presented a unique challenge. Harry knew Snape was a Potions Master, and giving him a potion would be pointless; Snape could undoubtedly brew far superior ones himself.


    What could he do?


    Lying on his bed, Harry wrestled with the question for a long time before finally coming up with an unconventional idea.


    That¡¯s it!


    Since Snape had a good relationship with his parents, why not gift him a photo of them for Christmas?


    Once the idea took root, Harry was certain it was the perfect choice.


    The photo of his parents was a gift from Hagrid, who, perhaps worried Harry might lose it, had thoughtfully made several duplicates.


    This would make the perfect gift.


    ---


    The next day, Harry prepared a detailed shopping list before heading out.


    In addition to gifts for professors and friends, he needed ingredients for potions like Aging Potion, along with clothing suited for an older appearance.


    The Aging Potion was a concoction that temporarily made the drinker appear older, depending on the dosage consumed¡ªa crucial element in Harry¡¯s upcoming plans.


    Appearing older would grant him greater freedom and allow him to explore Knockturn Alley without drawing suspicion.


    After all, Knockturn Alley was like an underground black market. An eleven-year-old wandering there without supervision would raise more than a few eyebrows.


    Moreover, Knockturn Alley was home to rare items unavailable elsewhere, such as seeds for biting cabbages.


    Though Harry wasn¡¯t one to shy away from danger, his friends¡¯ influence had taught him the value of caution. Stocking up on biting cabbages seemed like a prudent way to compensate for his current lack of combat experience.


    After arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Granger arranged to meet them in the afternoon before hurrying off to the bank.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Harry and Ron strolled through Diagon Alley, checking off items on their shopping list.


    To Harry¡¯s surprise, Zonko¡¯s Joke Shop was selling Aging Potion, albeit at a price several times higher than the cost of the raw ingredients.


    Gritting his teeth, Harry bought the potion along with a pile of joke items, deliberately hiding the potion among the other goods to avoid attracting attention.


    Afterward, Harry led Ron to Ollivander¡¯s wand shop.


    The shop was eerily quiet, now in its off-season. Harry called out a few times before Mr. Ollivander appeared from the back room.


    ¡°It¡¯s rare to see young wizards here at this time of year,¡± Mr. Ollivander remarked, stepping forward. His expression brightened when he saw Harry. ¡°Ah, Mr. Potter. We meet again.¡±


    ¡°Hello, Mr. Ollivander,¡± Harry said, pulling Ron forward. ¡°This is my friend Ron. I¡¯d like to buy him a wand as a Christmas gift.¡±


    Mr. Ollivander turned his gaze to Ron, who shifted uneasily and lowered his head.


    ¡°The youngest Weasley boy, I presume?¡± Mr. Ollivander said with a knowing smile. He gestured for Ron¡¯s wand. ¡°May I see the wand you¡¯re currently using?¡±


    Ron hesitated before handing over his older brother Charlie¡¯s wand.


    Examining it closely, Mr. Ollivander nodded. ¡°Ah, yes¡ªpear wood, unicorn hair, twelve inches. Let me guess, Mr. Weasley: you¡¯ve been encountering significant resistance while casting spells, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Ron admitted nervously.


    ¡°That¡¯s to be expected. Unicorn hair cores produce the most stable magic, rarely experiencing surges or blockages,¡± Mr. Ollivander explained. ¡°However, they are also the most loyal of wand cores and remain deeply bonded to their original owners.¡±


    ¡°If you weren¡¯t the brother of this wand¡¯s first owner, the resistance would be even more pronounced,¡± he continued, before smiling at Harry. ¡°Mr. Potter, your thoughtfulness is impeccable. A proper wand will significantly improve Mr. Weasley¡¯s progress with spells.¡±


    Hearing this, Ron finally understood the true depth of Harry¡¯s gesture.


    ¡°Thank you, Harry,¡± Ron said sincerely.


    ¡°We¡¯re best friends, aren¡¯t we?¡± Harry replied with a grin.


    Mr. Ollivander measured Ron and selected several wands for him to try.


    After a few unsuccessful attempts, Ron finally held a wand that emitted a brilliant glow.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the one!¡± Mr. Ollivander exclaimed. ¡°Willow wood, unicorn hair, fourteen inches. Give it a try.¡±


    Ron cast, ¡°Expelliarmus!¡±


    A red beam struck a stone in the shop with a resounding thud.


    ¡°Brilliant...¡± Ron murmured, staring at his new wand in awe.


    Harry was delighted for his friend. After paying seven Galleons, they left the shop together.


    ¡°Let¡¯s grab lunch,¡± Harry suggested, discreetly tucking the bottle of Aging Potion into his pocket.


    They headed to a French restaurant¡ªa favorite among wizards seeking fine dining¡ªand chose a quiet corner.


    Midway through the meal, Harry excused himself.


    In the restroom, he drank the Aging Potion and transformed into a nineteen-year-old.


    After changing into the clothes he had prepared, Harry left the restaurant unnoticed and made his way to Knockturn Alley.


    The grimy, decrepit streets were filled with broken cobblestones, filthy walls, and gaunt, sinister wizards lurking in the shadows.


    Harry quickly caught their attention but strode forward with purpose.


    Turning into a narrow alley, he was soon confronted by a toothy wizard with a menacing grin.


    ¡°Boy, you don¡¯t belong here,¡± the man sneered. ¡°Hand over your money, and I might let you walk out of here unharmed.¡±


    Harry smiled coldly.


    Since you¡¯ve come to me, don¡¯t blame me for what happens next, he thought.


    Locking eyes with the man, Harry whispered, ¡°Imperio.¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 60: This Is None of Your Damn Business

    Toothy wizard with a sinister grin, Dawima stood in a daze, feeling as though he had fallen into an endless sea of bliss.


    If Harry were to choose a spell he was most proficient at besides the Disarming Charm, it would undoubtedly be the Imperius Curse.


    In an era when dark wizards were as common as stray dogs and poachers roamed freely, not being adept at resisting the Imperius Curse was practically an open invitation for dark wizards to exploit you.


    Cassandra had spent countless hours training Harry in this very spell. The two would take turns casting the Imperius Curse on each other, breaking free of its control through sheer willpower, repeating the exercise to build resistance to its effects.


    The Imperius Curse didn¡¯t inherently harm the caster. Its unforgivable nature lay in the way it allowed the user to manipulate others. Hence, Harry harbored little aversion to practicing it.


    And truth be told, making Cassandra dance like a robot was oddly satisfying.


    Practice makes perfect. Harry became so skilled at the Imperius Curse that he could cast it without a wand.


    The greatest advantage of wandless magic? No risk of spell reversal.


    ¡°Give me your wand,¡± Harry commanded, stretching out his hand.


    Under the influence of the Imperius Curse, Dawima obediently retrieved his wand from his coat and handed it to Harry with both hands.


    Harry took the wand, raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Dawima.


    ¡°Blackthorn wood, dragon heartstring core, twelve and a quarter inches,¡± Dawima replied with deference.


    Pocketing the wand, Harry issued another command: ¡°Take me to the nearest shop. I need to buy some... special items that you can¡¯t find elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Dawima responded, bowing deeply before leading Harry out of the alley.


    An outsider striding so boldly into Knockturn Alley was bound to attract trouble.


    But when the locals saw Dawima, the sycophant, walking alongside Harry, they immediately dismissed any thoughts of confrontation.


    If someone as well-established as Dawima had been subdued, even the shrewdest dark wizards weren¡¯t about to tempt fate.


    The journey was uneventful. Dawima led Harry to a reasonably well-kept shop, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.


    Approaching the counter, Dawima rang the bell.


    While waiting for the shopkeeper to appear, Harry surveyed the store¡¯s wares.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    On a cushion inside a glass case lay a shriveled human hand, a stack of bloodstained cards, and a glassy, unmoving eyeball. Grimacing masks leered from the walls, while human bones adorned the counter, and rusty, jagged implements hung from the ceiling.


    Before the withered hand stood a Pensieve.


    Judging by the items on display, this was clearly no ordinary shop.


    After a short wait, a hunched man appeared behind the counter, repeatedly slicking back his greasy hair.


    Harry thought this shopkeeper might find common ground with Professor Snape.


    ¡°Dawima? What are you doing here?¡± Mr. Borgin asked, frowning in apparent displeasure.


    Dawima let out an ingratiating chuckle and gestured toward Harry. ¡°This gentleman here is looking to purchase some... rare items that aren¡¯t available elsewhere. I thought of introducing him to you, Mr. Borgin.¡±


    Only now did Mr. Borgin notice Harry, scrutinizing his pristine, immaculate attire. A flicker of caution crossed Borgin¡¯s face.


    ¡°Good day, sir,¡± Borgin ventured. ¡°May I ask your name?¡±


    Harry, of course, wasn¡¯t about to reveal his real name. Without hesitation, he borrowed a friend¡¯s.


    ¡°Sebastian.¡±


    ¡°Sebastian what?¡± Borgin repeated, clearly fishing for a surname.


    Harry, already impatient, snapped, ¡°Sebastian None-of-Your-Damn-Business.¡±


    ¡°My apologies. Everyone has their secrets, don¡¯t they?¡± Borgin said smoothly, recovering quickly. His tone was as slick as his hair. ¡°An honor, Mr. Sebastian. Welcome to my humble establishment. How can I assist you today?¡±


    ¡°I need seeds for Biting Cabbage and, if possible, Venomous Tentacula,¡± Harry replied.


    Borgin sighed dramatically, speaking in a slow drawl. ¡°What a pity. Those magical plant seeds are currently prohibited from being sold¡ª¡±


    So he didn¡¯t want to sell, eh?


    Without a word, Harry pulled five Galleons from his pocket and slapped them onto the counter.


    At the sight of the gold coins, Borgin¡¯s eyes gleamed with a greed that rivaled a goblin¡¯s.


    ¡°But then again, at Borgin and Burkes, we pride ourselves on meeting all needs. There¡¯s nothing we won¡¯t sell¡ªif the price is right.¡±


    Harry pressed his hand against the coins, holding them in place. Borgin took the hint, turning to a cabinet and retrieving two small pouches.


    ¡°These contain seeds for Biting Cabbage and Venomous Tentacula,¡± Borgin said, placing them on the counter. ¡°However, they¡¯ve been stored for some time and may require special care.¡±


    Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the pouches.


    Borgin flinched, but when he saw Harry¡¯s wand merely touching the pouches, he visibly relaxed.


    After verifying the seeds were genuine, Harry tucked them into his pocket.


    ¡°Mr. Borgin?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°Yes, sir?¡± Borgin replied, pocketing the Galleons with glee.


    ¡°What¡¯s your relation to Herbert Burke?¡±


    ¡°He was my grandfather,¡± Borgin answered. ¡°Why, did you know him?¡±


    Harry smiled. ¡°Of course. I even witnessed his Sorting ceremony.¡±


    Borgin glanced at Harry¡¯s youthful face beneath the hood and assumed he was bluffing.


    Being a businessman, however, Borgin saw no point in arguing. He merely smiled and let the remark slide.


    Harry shrugged, indifferent to whether Borgin believed him. He had spoken the truth, after all. Herbert Burke was memorable¡ªespecially since there were no Abbotts in his year, making him the first to be Sorted.


    With his purchases in hand, Harry left Borgin¡¯s shop, satisfied.


    Back in the alley, Harry lifted the Imperius Curse from Dawima.


    Dawima blinked in confusion before realization struck. Pointing a trembling finger at Harry, he stammered, ¡°You... you used an Unforgivable on me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Relax. It was just a harmless little spell,¡± Harry said calmly. ¡°It¡¯s our little secret, and I trust you¡¯ll keep it that way.¡±


    ¡°You... you¡¯re letting me go?¡± Dawima asked hesitantly.


    ¡°Of course not. I prefer a safer approach.¡±


    Drawing his wand, Harry aimed it at Dawima.


    Before Dawima could react, his body twisted and shrank, transforming into a wriggling Flobberworm.


    But Harry wasn¡¯t done. He followed up with another spell.


    ¡°Obliviate Maxima!¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 61: Draco and the Diary

    Predictably, Mr. Dawima would spend the rest of his existence as a Flobberworm in this world.


    Harry didn¡¯t think he was being cruel. Compared to what the wanted posters described about the fates of Dawima¡¯s victims, this was already an extraordinarily merciful punishment.


    As he passed by, Harry accidentally stepped on the Flobberworm.


    ***


    Back in the Leaky Cauldron¡¯s restroom, Harry waited for the Aging Potion to wear off, then changed back into his regular clothes and returned to the table where Ron was waiting. Ron, finally noticing him, looked up.


    ¡°Hey, mate,¡± Ron greeted him. ¡°What took you so long?¡±


    ¡°Stomachache,¡± Harry replied. ¡°I think we should head back. Mr. Granger might be waiting outside and getting worried.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Ron said, reluctantly pocketing his cherished wand.


    As they left the Leaky Cauldron, Harry spotted Mr. Granger, looking quite pleased with himself.


    ¡°Uncle Granger!¡± Harry and Ron greeted him in unison.


    ¡°Hello, boys!¡± Mr. Granger spread his arms wide and gave each of them a warm hug. ¡°Let¡¯s go. We¡¯ll stop by Harrods to pick up a few things, and then we¡¯ll head home.¡±


    It was clear that Mr. Granger was in a particularly good mood. Harry and Ron each received a doughnut from a popular American chain, a gesture impossible to decline.


    Unable to resist Mr. Granger¡¯s enthusiasm, Harry and Ron decided to spend another night at the Granger residence.


    Uncle Granger promised to drive them back early the next morning.


    Ron, eager to test out his new wand, suggested a duel with Hermione, but as underage wizards weren¡¯t allowed to perform magic outside school, he could only imagine it.


    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous. We don¡¯t have such rules at home,¡± Ron muttered.


    ¡°That¡¯s because we¡¯re in a Muggle neighborhood,¡± Hermione pointed out. ¡°Think about it: the moment you cast a spell, the Ministry of Magic will pinpoint us immediately. They won¡¯t even have to check who it was. They¡¯ll just know¡ª¡®Oh, it¡¯s Hermione!¡¯¡±


    ---


    After spending another cozy evening at the Grangers¡¯, Mr. Granger drove them to the Leaky Cauldron early the next morning.


    The two boys caught the Hogwarts Express back to school. Since it was still the holidays, the castle was quieter than usual, with only a few students scattered around the Great Hall reading.


    Their dormitory was nearly empty, save for the two of them. The room was already overflowing with Christmas gifts.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Look, this is the sweater my mum knitted,¡± Ron said, pulling out his gift¡ªa sweater with a large ¡°R¡± stitched on the front.


    ¡°She knits one for me every year. Percy, Fred, and George have theirs. You and Hermione have one too,¡± Ron explained. ¡°Yours and Hermione¡¯s both have an ¡®H.¡¯ Hers is slightly bigger since it¡¯s for a girl, and yours is smaller.¡±


    Girls tended to develop earlier than boys, and Hermione, being a year older, was no exception.


    Harry didn¡¯t hesitate, taking the gift from Ron and slipping on the blue sweater.


    ¡°It¡¯s so warm,¡± Harry said with a grin. ¡°I really like it.¡±


    As he stretched, Harry noticed a thin package among his gifts.


    ¡°It¡¯s from my Aunt Petunia,¡± he said to Ron.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Ron asked, leaning in curiously.


    Harry shrugged. ¡°No idea.¡±


    Opening the package, Harry found several photographs.


    ¡°It¡¯s my mum,¡± Harry exclaimed, holding up one of the pictures. ¡°There are five of them¡ªall of my mum.¡±


    Ron peered at the photos and sincerely remarked, ¡°Your mum was really pretty.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t she?¡± Harry replied, flipping through the photos, a smile spreading across his face. He mentally decided on a gift for his aunt¡ªa set of beauty potions, to show his gratitude for the photos.


    Suddenly, Ron pointed to one of the pictures and gasped. ¡°Wait, doesn¡¯t this guy look familiar?¡±


    Harry glanced at the photo. In it, a young girl¡ªhis mother¡ªwas smiling warmly, her arm linked with a boy¡¯s. The boy¡¯s dark hair, greasy and unkempt, and his oversized black robes gave him away instantly.


    ¡°It¡¯s Professor Snape,¡± Harry said confidently. ¡°See? I told you he was friends with my parents. I think I know what to give Professor Snape as a gift.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Ron asked.


    ¡°This photo,¡± Harry replied with a shrug. He grabbed an envelope from his desk and slipped the picture inside.


    ¡°Hedwig,¡± Harry called, ¡°could you deliver this to Professor Snape for me?¡±


    After sending Hedwig off, Harry continued opening his gifts. Hagrid had sent him a flute, Fred and George gave him a box of biscuits, and Miss Fawley gifted him some invigorating potion and magical ingredients. Hermione¡¯s gift was a large box of horseshoe-shaped chocolates.


    Among the gifts, Harry found a shimmering, silvery fabric¡ªan item that seemed to ripple like liquid in his hands.


    ¡°Wow, this is... an Invisibility Cloak?¡± Harry marveled, raising an eyebrow.


    He had seen such cloaks before¡ªCassandra owned one.


    ¡°Look, there¡¯s a note,¡± Ron pointed out.


    Harry set the cloak aside and picked up the note.


    Written in a thin, looping script, the note read:


    ¡°Your father left this with me before his death. It¡¯s time it returned to you. Use it well. Wishing you a very merry Christmas.¡±


    ¡°Who sent it?¡± Harry wondered aloud, flipping the note over, but there was no signature.


    ¡°Probably one of your dad¡¯s friends,¡± Ron said, gazing enviously at the cloak. ¡°I¡¯d trade all my gifts for something like that.¡±


    Harry studied the handwriting, feeling that it looked familiar, though he couldn¡¯t place it.


    ***


    Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy also received his share of Christmas gifts.


    As always, life as a young master was plain yet extravagant. True to his boasts, his father bought him only the finest, and his Christmas gifts were the best among his peers.


    But unlike Dudley Dursley, Draco wasn¡¯t obsessed with gifts. He spent the afternoon sorting them and placing them in a small study across the hall¡ªa room he had never entered before, said to have belonged to an ancestor.


    After putting away the gifts, Draco heard a soft plop.


    Something had fallen behind him¡ªa notebook.


    Draco picked it up and examined it.


    The notebook looked old but not outdated. Its cover gleamed under the light, as if freshly made, exuding an unusual allure.


    Draco instantly liked the notebook. He summoned a house-elf to bring him a quill and ink, then sat at the desk, ready to write his name on the first page.


    ¡°Draco Malfoy.¡±


    Strangely, the ink began to seep into the paper.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Draco muttered, scratching his head in confusion.


    The ink was absorbed into the notebook, disappearing completely. In its place, a delicate script appeared:


    ¡°Hello, I am Cassandra Malfoy.¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 62: Old Ancestor Cassandra and the Bottle of Felix Felicis

    Cassandra Malfoy?


    Draco recalled the ancestor his father had mentioned just days ago.


    Wait, didn¡¯t she disappear?


    ¡°Are you really Cassandra?¡± Draco scribbled in the notebook.


    ¡°Yes.¡± The delicate handwriting reappeared.


    ¡°But¡­ why?¡± Draco wrote, his confusion evident. ¡°Why are you suddenly communicating with me through this notebook? Did you use some sort of dark magic to create it?¡±


    ¡°Magic is full of wonders, isn¡¯t it?¡± the elegant handwriting replied.


    Beneath that line, two more sentences quickly appeared: ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me about yourself, my descendant? What is your relationship with Abraxas?¡±


    ¡°He was my grandfather. He¡¯s already passed away,¡± Draco responded.


    It took a moment for his words to vanish. Then he waited, becoming slightly impatient, until the graceful script returned.


    ¡°Oh, how unexpected... Time is truly merciless. When I left home, Abraxas was just a little boy.¡±


    Seeing the text fade, Draco eagerly wrote, ¡°So you really are my ancestor! I¡¯ve heard so much about your heroic deeds from a century ago¡ªquelling the goblin rebellion, defeating the Ash Snake cult¡ªbut Father never told me the details. Can you share them? I¡¯m very eager to know about the glory of my ancestors.¡±


    What a child so obsessed with family prestige¡­


    The notebook stayed silent for a while before finally responding.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my descendant. This notebook is merely for recording magical insights; it cannot fulfill your wish.¡±


    Draco felt a twinge of disappointment, but his attention was quickly captured by the phrase ¡°magical insights.¡±


    ¡°Magical insights?¡± Draco wrote hastily. ¡°Can you teach me, Ancestor? I know you were one of the most outstanding witches at Hogwarts in your time. With your guidance, I¡¯m sure I can defeat Harry Potter!¡±


    ¡°Very well, my descendant.¡± The notebook agreed surprisingly readily. ¡°If you¡¯re serious about learning magic with me, defeating any classmate at Hogwarts will be a breeze.¡±


    Draco was ecstatic, nearly jumping three feet in the air.


    In his mind, he was already imagining what it would be like to defeat Harry Potter and dominate Slytherin.


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    Draco¡¯s daydreaming was interrupted by new words appearing on the notebook.


    ¡°You must follow my instructions. First and foremost, you must keep this a secret. If anyone covets this notebook and steals it from you, I won¡¯t be able to teach you magic.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Ancestor,¡± Draco pledged solemnly.


    ¡°Also, I¡¯ve left a few trinkets hidden in Hogwarts. If you help me find them, I¡¯ll gladly share them with you,¡± the handwriting continued.


    ¡°Trinkets?¡± Draco was clearly uninterested. ¡°It¡¯s been a hundred years, Ancestor. I doubt your belongings have remained intact.¡±


    ¡°You cannot imagine the secrets of Hogwarts, my descendant,¡± the notebook replied. ¡°The place where I stored them is absolutely inaccessible to others.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth the risk. After all¡­¡±


    Draco¡¯s sentence vanished before he could finish writing.


    It was replaced by the delicate script:


    ¡°Rest assured, my descendant. Aren¡¯t you curious about the Merlin Relic stored in that chamber?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s its use?¡± Draco asked, now intrigued.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you wonder why my magical prowess was so extraordinary?¡± the handwriting countered.


    Draco¡¯s thoughts quickly connected the dots based on the mention of the Merlin Relic.


    ¡°Could it be because of that Merlin Relic?!¡± Draco wrote hurriedly and sloppily.


    ¡°Yes, child,¡± the notebook replied.


    ¡°It was thanks to this item that I possessed magical abilities far beyond my peers.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you, Ancestor.¡± Draco¡¯s expression turned solemn as he resolved to fulfill this wish.


    What he failed to notice was that as he conversed with the notebook, a faint magical force was slowly, almost imperceptibly, flowing from his hand into his brain.


    ---


    Hogwarts during Christmas was quieter than usual, but it didn¡¯t feel any less lively.


    Under the guidance of Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, the students began decorating the Great Hall with Christmas ornaments.


    The group of students staying at the castle bustled about, adding a festive cheer to the atmosphere.


    The Weasley twins were busy teasing Percy, joking that the ¡°P¡± on his sweater stood for ¡°Prefect¡± rather than Percy. This prompted Percy to chase them with a book, attempting to swat them.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to hang out with the prefects today!¡± Fred yelled while running, ¡°You have to spend Christmas with us¡ªfamily comes first, you git!¡±


    ¡°Ah, youth¡­¡± Dumbledore mused from the high table, a bright floral bonnet perched on his head.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Dumbledore¡¯s gay,¡± Ron whispered to Harry. ¡°Look at that floral hat¡­ seriously.¡±


    ¡°No way!¡± Harry scratched his head. ¡°You can¡¯t just say that because he¡¯s wearing a bonnet. Maybe he¡¯s just into cross-dressing? And even if he is gay, who could someone as brilliant as him possibly fall for?¡±


    Ron didn¡¯t respond, merely shrugging. His earlier comment was more a mix of intuition and playful banter.


    Nearby, his rat, Scabbers, was busy burying its head in the Christmas feast, indulging to its heart¡¯s content.


    ¡°Speaking of which, mate,¡± Ron said, shifting topics, ¡°why don¡¯t we have a snowball fight after dinner? Fred and George just invited me, and they insisted you join too.¡±


    ¡°I think we have more important things to do, Ron,¡± Harry said in a low voice. ¡°Now that I¡¯ve got this invisibility cloak, why not explore the castle?¡±


    ¡°Great idea!¡± Ron¡¯s face lit up before quickly falling. ¡°But the cloak only fits one person. I can¡¯t come with you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Ron. I don¡¯t need a cloak to turn invisible,¡± Harry said with a grin.


    Now more comfortable in his eleven-year-old body, Harry¡¯s magic had improved to the point where he could cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself without flaws.


    Before Ron could reply, Hedwig swooped in, hooting softly as she flew into the hall.


    ¡°It¡¯s Hedwig,¡± Ron said. ¡°No wonder I haven¡¯t seen her around¡ªI thought you¡¯d forgotten about her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s probably delivering something.¡± Harry extended his hand, catching the small gift box Hedwig dropped as she soared down.


    ¡°Is it a Christmas present? Who¡¯s it from?¡± Ron asked, leaning in curiously.


    Harry picked up the little box, noting the absence of any tag or note.


    ¡°No name,¡± he said with a shrug.


    Opening the gift, he found a small, crystal-clear vial inside.


    ¡°Well, I think I know who sent this,¡± Harry said immediately.


    He recognized the contents of the gift right away¡ªit was a small bottle of Felix Felicis.


    ----


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 Chapter 63: I Am the Headmaster!

    No need to ask¡ªthis extravagant gift of advanced potion must have come from none other than the proud and aloof old serpent himself: Professor Severus Snape.


    Who else but him could give such a valuable potion as a gift?


    ¡°It seems he really was very good friends with my parents,¡± Harry muttered to himself, carefully examining the bottle of Felix Felicis. The shimmering liquid inside gleamed so enticingly it seemed to captivate one¡¯s very soul.


    Inside the box, there was a note.


    Harry reached for the slip of paper, unfolded it, and read:


    <blockquote>


    "Handle with care. Don¡¯t let your dunderheaded little troll friends spill it. ¡ª S.S."


    </blockquote>


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Ron, the so-called "dunderheaded little troll," asked on cue.


    Without a word, Harry handed the note to him.


    Ron took it and, upon reading it, turned visibly indignant.


    ¡°This is downright insulting!¡± he fumed, though his gaze flicked back to the potion. ¡°But, this is Felix Felicis¡ªLiquid Luck¡ªan advanced potion! Just this small vial could fetch hundreds of Galleons!¡±


    Pausing, Ron glanced up and asked, ¡°S.S.? Who¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Professor Snape,¡± Harry said, carefully tucking the potion into his pocket. ¡°Severus Snape. Of course, it¡¯s him.¡±


    Ron let out an understanding "oh" and said to Harry, ¡°I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s this generous. You must be right¡ªhe really was your parents¡¯ good friend. That photo you gave him must¡¯ve struck the right chord.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Harry replied with a smile, spearing a piece of roast beef from his plate.


    ¡°So, where are we heading later?¡±


    Ron resumed gnawing on a drumstick, then decided one wasn¡¯t enough and grabbed another, finally grinning in satisfaction.


    ¡°To the Room of Requirement,¡± Harry said calmly after swallowing his mouthful of beef. ¡°We¡¯re not practicing magic today¡ªI¡¯ve discovered a new use for the room.¡±


    ¡°A new use?¡± Ron¡¯s interest was immediately piqued. ¡°I¡¯ve got to see this¡ª¡±


    --


    Meanwhile, back in the Headmaster¡¯s office, a mysterious guest had arrived.


    It was a goblin, with sparse hair atop its head, a less-than-pleasing appearance, and a pair of pronounced cross-eyes.


    ¡°Happy Christmas, Headmaster Dumbledore.¡± The goblin bowed politely, its voice rough and gravelly.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Dumbledore inclined his head slightly and replied, ¡°And a Merry Christmas to you, Bodrig. It¡¯s already evening, though, so if there¡¯s something urgent, please speak plainly. Forgive an old man¡¯s bluntness¡ªI require more sleep at my age.¡±


    This particular goblin was not a stranger to him. His name was Bodrig ¡°Boss-Eyes,¡± a spokesperson for the Goblin Brotherhood.


    ¡°There¡¯s been a horrific incident in Knockturn Alley,¡± Bodrig began. ¡°A dark wizard was transformed into a Flobberworm and stomped to death. I saw the scene myself¡ªit was absolutely appalling. It reminded me of a deeply unpleasant memory.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t consider the death of a dark wizard to be a horrific incident, nor do I see why it should stir unpleasant memories,¡± Dumbledore remarked casually. ¡°Moreover, I am merely the Headmaster of Hogwarts, not the Minister of Magic. I suggest you take this matter to Cornelius, not to an old man like me.¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand, Dumbledore!¡± Bodrig nearly growled. ¡°It¡¯s him! He¡¯s returned! That... that unspeakable monster!¡±


    ¡°Voldemort?¡± Dumbledore¡¯s gaze sharpened momentarily before doubt crept in.


    No, Voldemort preferred straightforward methods like the Killing Curse. He wouldn¡¯t go through the trouble of transforming someone into a Flobberworm and then stomping them to death.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s another figure¡ªa different mysterious man,¡± Bodrig shuddered. ¡°Harry Potter!¡±


    ¡°Harry Potter?¡± Dumbledore blinked in surprise before realizing that Bodrig was referring to the Harry Potter of a century ago.


    ¡°Yes, Harry Potter!¡± Bodrig whispered. ¡°He¡¯s returned¡ªhe really has! That man used to torment goblins by turning them into small creatures and crushing them underfoot¡­ Headmaster Dumbledore, I know a new student named Harry Potter has enrolled at Hogwarts. Please allow me to meet him. I suspect he might be¡ª¡±


    ¡°Bodrig!¡± Dumbledore¡¯s previously kind demeanor turned stern. ¡°I will not permit you to harass my student. And, let¡¯s not forget, a century ago, it was the goblins who instigated the rebellion. That Harry Potter did nothing wrong!¡±


    ¡°I know, I know¡­¡± Bodrig shivered slightly, his voice lowering. ¡°I merely wish to meet him, to negotiate some terms¡­ A century has passed, and we goblins no longer harbor such thoughts. Too many have died; we cannot bear any more losses¡­¡±


    ¡°But he is merely a student at Hogwarts, not the same person from a century ago. You must understand this,¡± Dumbledore said coldly. ¡°As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I will not allow you to disturb my students under any circumstances!¡±


    ¡°Really? Not even for this?¡± Bodrig took a deep breath. ¡°This isn¡¯t just for the goblins¡ªit¡¯s for Hogwarts as well. I believe a wise headmaster would not refuse such a proposal¡­¡±


    Dumbledore said nothing, but a flash of displeasure crossed his eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.


    ¡°Dumbledore! You¡¯ll regret this!¡± Bodrig roared, standing abruptly.


    ¡°Bodrig, I am the Headmaster,¡± Dumbledore replied calmly.


    With a growl, Bodrig stormed out, slamming the door so hard it reverberated through the room.


    Sitting back in his chair, Dumbledore¡¯s eyes glimmered behind his spectacles.


    Bodrig¡¯s words had indeed stirred a ripple of unease within him.


    But the notion that Harry was the same person from a century ago seemed utterly preposterous.


    That said, there was something undeniably unusual about Harry¡­


    Before the holiday break, during the Gryffindor-Slytherin confrontation, Dumbledore had watched from afar in his office.


    He had personally witnessed how Harry used magic to defeat multiple upper-year students, including the Slytherin prefect, Miss Farley.


    For a first-year student, such prowess was extraordinary. Even Dumbledore himself couldn¡¯t have achieved that level in his first year.


    Perhaps it was due to Lily¡¯s ancient charm? Dumbledore mused.


    In any case, he decided he needed to observe the boy more closely to ensure he wasn¡¯t being influenced by some dark artifact.


    With that thought, Dumbledore formulated a plan, stood up, and prepared to put it into action.


    He knew that a boy Harry¡¯s age, having received an Invisibility Cloak, would undoubtedly want to sneak out and explore.


    ----


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 Chapter 64: Cassandras Notebook

    After dinner, Harry led Ron up to the seventh floor.


    Standing before the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls, Harry silently focused on needing the Order of the Phoenix¡¯s lounge.


    ¡°Hey, the door looks a bit different this time,¡± Ron suddenly said.


    Harry glanced up. This time, the wall revealed a bronze door symbolizing a lounge instead of the silver door of the meeting room or the brass one representing the dueling chamber.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Harry said, patting Ron¡¯s back. ¡°You know how it works¡ªthis room can change as needed. It should be a lounge this time.¡±


    Ron followed Harry into the Room of Requirement.


    ¡°Wow,¡± he marveled at the distinct decorations for the four houses. ¡°All four houses are represented here¡­ wait, why does Slytherin have more chairs than the others?¡±


    Harry considered it for a moment. The Order had eight members, with four from Slytherin. It was no surprise that their seats outnumbered the others.


    ¡°Surely you don¡¯t expect Hufflepuff¡¯s one member or Ravenclaw¡¯s lone representative to each need four chairs,¡± Harry thought wryly.


    ¡°Ha, Gryffindor is right next to Slytherin¡ªthat¡¯s just¡­¡± Ron trailed off with a grumble.


    Harry shrugged. It was Veratia¡¯s decision. She discovered the Room of Requirement, so naturally, she designed the layout.


    This arrangement had left Cassandra in a foul mood for weeks, giving Harry nothing but icy looks whenever they crossed paths. After all, Veratia¡¯s seat was right next to Harry¡¯s.


    After grumbling, Ron flopped down into the chair that originally belonged to Gareth Weasley. It made sense¡ªGareth was Ron¡¯s great-grandfather.


    ¡°This is quite a nice place, Harry,¡± Ron said, stretching like a cat in his chair, his flaming red hair mussing up. ¡°Honestly, Hermione should¡¯ve come to see this too. Oh, weren¡¯t we going to recruit Seamus and Neville as well? Hmm, we might as well move all the Slytherin chairs over since we¡¯re obviously not inviting any Slytherins to join us, are we?¡±


    As soon as Ron finished speaking, three more chairs appeared in the Gryffindor section.


    ¡°That¡¯s amazing,¡± Ron said excitedly. ¡°I¡¯ll go check out the window¡ªthis view is way better than what we have in the Gryffindor Tower.¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± Harry murmured, nodding as Ron walked off. He sat down in Veratia¡¯s seat, his thoughts drifting a century back in time.


    --


    ¡°Harry?¡±


    Veratia slipped her arms around Harry¡¯s.


    ¡°Huh? Oh¡­¡± Harry answered reflexively, caught off guard.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Come look at the view with me,¡± Veratia said, tugging him toward the window. ¡°You know, the Slytherin common room is underground. We never get to enjoy such a wonderful sight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d remind you,¡± Cassandra¡¯s cold voice interrupted from behind, full of disdain, ¡°that this is the Room of Requirement¡ªour Order¡¯s meeting space. And it¡¯s winter, not springtime when magical creatures are breeding. You two¡ª¡±


    She stopped mid-sentence when Veratia turned to face her.


    Veratia¡¯s striking violet eyes curved into crescent moons, her thin lips curling into a victorious smirk.


    ¡°The moonlight is beautiful tonight,¡± Veratia said.


    --


    ¡°The moonlight is beautiful tonight,¡± Harry echoed softly, gazing out the window.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Ron responded absentmindedly. ¡°Look, our dorm doesn¡¯t have this kind of view where you can see the entire Black Lake¡ªoh, there¡¯s Percy and Fred horsing around, and Lee Jordan¡¯s joined in¡­ huh?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Harry asked, distracted.


    ¡°There¡¯s a notebook here,¡± Ron said, bending to pick up a book from a nearby cabinet. ¡°There¡¯s a letter tucked inside too, Harry. It¡¯s signed by C.C. Malfoy¡­ Is that an ancestor of the Malfoys? I know Draco¡¯s father is Lucius, and his grandfather was Abraxas, but none of them match C.C.¡±


    C.C. Malfoy?


    Harry shot up from his seat and hurried to Ron¡¯s side.


    ¡°Where? Let me see!¡± he demanded eagerly.


    ¡°Here,¡± Ron handed the notebook and letter to Harry but hesitated. ¡°Harry, these are someone else¡¯s belongings¡­ Isn¡¯t it a bit improper for us to just read them?¡±


    Harry glanced at Ron, then turned back and walked away.


    Ron shrugged. He had no interest in the Malfoy family, preferring to watch his brothers¡¯ antics outside the window instead.


    C.C. was Cassandra¡¯s initials¡ªher full name was Cassandra Cecilia Malfoy.


    Sitting back down, Harry first opened the letter.


    <hr>


    <blockquote>


    **[To Veratia Grindelwald,


    I regretfully decline your proposal. Using a Time-Turner to move forward even one year entails a great cost, let alone traveling a century into the future to search for this Potter.


    I urge you to let go of your infatuation, riddled as it is with pink-hued delusions. Face reality. Chasing after a boy at the expense of your family is a foolish pursuit of an unattainable dream.


    Perhaps you and this Potter are alike¡ªarrogant and self-absorbed¡­ Regardless, I will not accept your proposal to seek out a boy unrelated to me.


    ¡ªC.C. Malfoy]**


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    Even though Harry had braced himself, he still felt a pang of sadness.


    Why?


    Cassandra was insufferable¡ªalways condescending, bossing him around, and humiliating him.


    He thought he had come to terms with her disdain. But seeing this letter, why did he feel so disheartened?


    Maybe Cassandra was right. She had a family¡ªa father and brothers who loved her deeply. Harry could never forget the way she lit up with pride whenever she mentioned ¡°my father.¡±


    A child who wasn¡¯t doted on by their father wouldn¡¯t show off like that.


    Even Draco Malfoy, for all his haughty, unbearable arrogance, had a family that loved him dearly.


    Harry reread the letter three times before sighing and folding it back into the notebook.


    He turned to the first page. The notebook¡¯s cover bore Cassandra¡¯s name.


    It was her journal of spell research and musings.


    Something about the notebook felt off to Harry, though he couldn¡¯t pinpoint why.


    As he flipped through, it appeared to chronicle her studies from her first year at Hogwarts.


    <hr>


    **The alternative applications of the Lumos Charm¡­ The feasibility of using the Levitation Charm for object control¡­


    [Too bad that Potter ended up in Gryffindor. I thought I could make him my lackey¡­]


    [His green eyes look timid, like those of a fawn. Quite adorable, actually. I wouldn¡¯t mind having a little brother like him.]**


    <hr>


    **Explorations into the Stunning Spell¡¯s mechanics¡­ Quickening the casting of Exploding Hexes¡­


    [Today, that hopelessly foolish Potter and I encountered dark wizards in the Forbidden Forest. He¡¯s such a liability¡ªclumsy and unable to use spells properly¡­ Ha, I hope he realizes how weak he is and obediently follows behind me like a proper lackey.]**


    <hr>


    Harry felt a lump in his throat.


    The moonlight streamed onto his face, and the cool night breeze ruffled his hair, just like that night in the Forbidden Forest.


    ----


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 Chapter 65: Grindelwald: "Do You Think My Sister Would Mourn for You?"

    ¡°Mate?¡±


    Ron watched his brothers disappear down the corridor, still horsing around like usual. Turning back, he noticed his best friend looking unusually pensive.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Ron asked, walking over, his voice tinged with concern.


    ¡°Nothing.¡± Harry shook his head and handed Ron a letter. ¡°Just feeling a bit sentimental, I guess.¡±


    Ron skimmed the letter quickly, then hastily handed it back. ¡°Mate, you¡¯re getting way too into this,¡± he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s an old feud between Harry Potter and Malfoy from over a century ago. What¡¯s it got to do with you?¡±


    ¡°But,¡± Ron added, tilting his head thoughtfully, ¡°if I were you, instead of worrying about how Malfoy didn¡¯t bother researching time magic for that Potter, I¡¯d be more concerned about something else.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Well, Miss Grindelwald, for one,¡± Ron replied, making a circular motion with his hand. ¡°Think about it¡ªwhat if her brother turns out to be that Grindelwald? You know, the dark wizard Dumbledore defeated. What would you do then?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it got to do with me?¡± Harry asked, clearly puzzled.


    ¡°It¡¯s got everything to do with you!¡± Ron groaned, clutching Harry¡¯s shoulder with mock sympathy. ¡°Picture this: a dark wizard with a grudge finds out his sister left their family for someone named Harry Potter. And guess what, mate? You¡¯re also named Harry Potter¡­¡±


    ¡°And then?¡± Harry still couldn¡¯t follow Ron¡¯s logic.


    ¡°By Merlin¡¯s beard!¡± Ron groaned theatrically, throwing up his hands. ¡°He¡¯d probably show up and say something like, ¡®Mr. Potter, do you think my sister would mourn you?¡¯ Then¡ªbam!¡ªhe curses you on the spot. He wouldn¡¯t care which Harry Potter you are, as long as he gets one to vent his anger.¡±


    The idea sent a shiver down Harry¡¯s spine.


    Even if Ron¡¯s theory sounded ridiculous, Harry couldn¡¯t ignore the memory of his visit to Nurmengard in Austria¡ªonce the seat of the Austro-Hungarian Empire¡ªwhere he¡¯d encountered Gellert Grindelwald.


    Sure, Gellert had seemed harmless at the time, like a grumpy parrot incapable of casting magic, with a face you almost wanted to pinch out of sheer frustration. But the hostility in his eyes had been unmistakable, especially when Veratia wiped a smudge of cream off Harry¡¯s nose. The way Gellert had glared could¡¯ve burned a hole through steel.


    They say the child is father to the man. Judging by Gellert¡¯s attitude back then, Harry had no doubt that the adult version was equally dangerous. And considering Veratia¡¯s considerable magical prowess, her brother was unlikely to be a slouch.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    After a century of refining his skills, who knew what heights of power Gellert had reached?


    Harry knew one thing for certain: in his current state, he wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a point,¡± Harry admitted, slipping the letter and notebook back into his pocket. He glanced at Ron. ¡°Let¡¯s search the Room of Requirement again, just to be sure.¡±


    Ron¡¯s insight had sparked a thought: the Room of Requirement could take countless forms. Maybe their friends¡¯ belongings weren¡¯t in the meeting-room version they¡¯d been using.


    As Harry began to search, Ron tilted his head. ¡°Harry? What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Looking for more letters or clues,¡± Harry replied without looking up. ¡°I want to know more about that Harry Potter. He seemed¡­ extraordinary. I¡¯d like to understand the man I share a name with.¡±


    Fortunately, Harry kept his head down, sparing Ron from seeing the awkward smile that crept across his face as he inadvertently complimented himself.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Ron shrugged. ¡°My great-grandfather Gareth was mates with him, too. Makes sense we¡¯d be curious.¡±


    Despite their efforts, they found nothing new.


    Left with no other options, Harry and Ron left the Room of Requirement, disappointment trailing behind them. It was getting late, after all.


    As they walked, Harry¡¯s thoughts drifted.


    Cassandra¡­


    Rationally, he understood why she¡¯d stopped searching for him. Emotionally, though, it still stung.


    Maybe it¡¯s for the best, Harry thought, shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the melancholy.


    Lost in thought, he bumped into Ron.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Harry asked quietly.


    ¡°Harry, look over there,¡± Ron whispered.


    Harry raised his head. Without his Invisibility Cloak, he¡¯d cast a Disillusionment Charm instead. In a nearby abandoned classroom stood a lone mirror.


    Strange, Harry thought. That wasn¡¯t there before.


    ¡°Want to check it out?¡± Ron asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Harry replied, a deep unease settling in his chest. ¡°Let¡¯s head back.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Ron said reluctantly, turning to leave.


    Unbeknownst to them, Dumbledore watched from the shadows, his sharp eyes glinting behind his half-moon spectacles.


    When Ron noticed the mirror, Dumbledore had straightened slightly, a flicker of anticipation flashing across his face. But when the two boys turned away, he sighed softly.


    With a wave of his hand, he transfigured a nearby statue into a black-robed figure with greasy hair¡ªa near-perfect likeness of Severus Snape.


    Young wizards are always terrified of Severus, Dumbledore mused, directing the statue toward Harry and Ron, hoping to nudge them toward the mirror.


    Under the dim light, the figure¡¯s silhouette loomed ominously.


    ¡°Harry, it¡¯s Snape!¡± Ron whispered urgently. ¡°We¡¯re done for if he catches us! Quick, let¡¯s hide in that classroom!¡±


    Harry frowned. Something wasn¡¯t right.


    Snape¡¯s sudden appearance was too coincidental, too out of character. After countless detentions, Harry knew Snape¡¯s routines like the back of his hand. At this hour, Snape should¡¯ve been in his office, painstakingly sorting potion ingredients. Roaming the sixth floor wasn¡¯t his style.


    Could this have something to do with the mirror?


    ¡°No,¡± Harry whispered. ¡°Stay here. He won¡¯t notice us.¡±


    Ron obeyed, pressing himself against the wall as Harry instructed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make a sound,¡± Harry murmured. ¡°We¡¯ll leave once he¡¯s gone.¡±


    Dumbledore, observing from his hiding spot, felt a mix of pride and exasperation. The boys¡¯ caution was commendable, but their refusal to investigate the mirror was frustrating.


    No matter, he thought. Plans can change.


    Dumbledore directed the Snape-like statue closer, its presence growing more imposing with each step.


    Sensing danger, Harry quietly drew his wand, pointing it at the advancing figure.


    Dumbledore: ¡­What?!


    ----


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 Chapter 66: "He’s Using My Lines!"

    Dumbledore recalled what Professor McGonagall had once said to him about Harry¡¯s personality resembling Lily''s.


    ¡°By Merlin¡¯s beard! This child¡¯s first reaction upon seeing Severus was to draw his wand. There¡¯s no doubt¡ªhe¡¯s James reborn!¡±


    He stroked his beard thoughtfully. When he looked at Harry again, he noticed that the boy had already aimed his wand at "Severus."


    Moments later, Harry¡¯s lips moved silently, and a transformed statue registered the impact of a spell.


    Silent casting?


    Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. This child...


    ...is indeed remarkable.


    This reinforced his belief that Harry''s character should be put to the test.


    The Mirror of Erised could reveal the deepest desires of anyone''s heart, regardless of age.


    With this thought, Dumbledore manipulated the statue, making it wave its sleeve and turn toward Harry and Ron.


    Harry was surprised his spell hadn¡¯t worked.


    Ron, on the other hand, was visibly unnerved. Having endured Snape¡¯s venomous remarks in Potions class many times, he already harbored a psychological shadow.


    As the "Professor Snape" statue turned its gaze toward them and began stepping closer, Ron tugged at Harry¡¯s sleeve, his voice trembling in despair.


    ¡°Harry¡­¡±


    What do we do now?


    Harry frowned. Using a harmless jinx on a professor for discovering them sneaking around seemed excessive.


    Especially since Snape had once gifted him a vial of Felix Felicis. Regardless of the circumstances, Harry couldn¡¯t bring himself to attack a professor who had helped him.


    Since the Confundus Charm hadn¡¯t worked, their best option was to escape.


    He pulled Ron along, but as the "Professor Snape" figure blocked most exits, only one empty classroom was accessible. Before Harry could formulate another plan, Ron yanked him inside.


    Once they had entered, the sound of the "Professor Snape" statue''s footsteps gradually faded away.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Ron,¡± Harry said.


    ¡°Wait, Harry¡­¡± Ron murmured, his eyes fixated on a strange mirror, his face glowing with fascination.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    It was an elaborate mirror, towering up to the ceiling and framed by an ornate golden border. At its base, claw-shaped feet supported its weight.


    Carved at the top of the mirror was an inscription:


    ¡°Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°I¡ªI see myself wearing one of Bill¡¯s old Head Boy badges. I¡¯m holding both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup¡ªand there¡¯s a box of drumsticks behind me! Haha! I¡¯m also Quidditch Captain!¡±


    Ron reluctantly tore his gaze away from the brilliant vision. Turning to Harry, he exclaimed, ¡°Harry, do you think this is a prophetic mirror? Could it mean I¡¯ll become Head Boy and Quidditch Captain someday?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Ron. I believe in you,¡± Harry replied, placing a reassuring hand on his friend¡¯s shoulder. ¡°But this mirror isn¡¯t prophetic. Look¡ªits inscription seems to be reversed. We should try reading it another way¡­¡±


    ¡°See? If you reverse ¡®Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi¡¯ and rephrase it, it becomes ¡®I show not your face but your heart¡¯s desire.¡¯¡± Harry explained. ¡°This mirror reveals the deepest desires of one¡¯s heart.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ that¡¯s what it means?¡± Ron scratched his head. ¡°No wonder¡­¡±


    Harry lifted his gaze to the mirror. It had been brought back from outside by Veratia during their fifth year and stored in the Room of Requirement.


    Back then, members of the Order of the Phoenix had eagerly crowded around the mirror to see their heart¡¯s desires. Most had left looking delighted¡ªexcept Cassandra.


    She had stared at Harry briefly, then stomped away, seemingly annoyed.


    Later, during Christmas at Nurmengard, Veratia had shared that Cassandra had returned to the mirror several times, sitting before it for hours.


    The last time Harry looked into this mirror, he had seen his parents.


    Now, as he gazed at the inscription, Harry wondered who had moved the mirror here¡ªand why.


    ¡°What about you, Harry? What do you see?¡± Ron asked.


    Harry turned to the mirror. Instead of the empty classroom, the reflection showed the Room of Requirement.


    A long table appeared, with his parents seated behind it, smiling gently at him.


    Behind them, the rest of the Potter family was bustling about, decorating a Christmas tree or arranging furniture. Noticing Harry¡¯s gaze, they all turned and smiled warmly at him.


    ¡°I see my parents and my family,¡± Harry said softly.


    His eyes drifted to his mother¡¯s side, where someone was sitting, and another figure stood behind her.


    Seated next to Lily was Veratia, knitting something with flying needles while chatting with his mother. Her violet eyes fixed intently on him.


    Standing behind Lily was Cassandra. Her usual disdain was absent, replaced by an uncharacteristic warmth.


    Why is Cassandra there? Harry wondered. He appreciated her guidance over the years, but to yearn to live with her? That seemed utterly nonsensical¡ªor maybe some kind of strange affliction.


    ¡°Harry, how do you know this mirror shows your heart¡¯s desire?¡± Ron asked again.


    ¡°I just know,¡± Harry said cryptically.


    At that moment, footsteps echoed from the doorway.


    Before Harry and Ron could reapply the Invisibility Cloak, Professor Dumbledore appeared.


    ¡°Harry, Ron,¡± he greeted them with a smile, wiggling his fingers in acknowledgment.


    ¡°Professor,¡± the two replied.


    ¡°Harry, few young wizards your age demonstrate such sharp insight,¡± Dumbledore said kindly. ¡°As you¡¯ve pointed out, this mirror reveals one¡¯s true heart¡¯s desire. So, Harry, what is your deepest desire?¡±


    Harry avoided Dumbledore¡¯s gaze and turned back to the mirror.


    In the reflection, Veratia smiled warmly, holding up a pair of woolen socks and waving them at him.


    ¡°I see my parents, my family, and¡­¡±


    ¡°And what?¡± Dumbledore prompted.


    Harry saw Veratia nodding encouragingly. He chose his words carefully.


    ¡°And woolen socks,¡± he said.


    Dumbledore: ......


    ----


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 Chapter 67: Teaching the Headmaster

    "Also, Professor," Harry turned toward Dumbledore''s long beard, "I don''t think it''s a wise decision to keep the Mirror of Erised here. I''m not convinced that other Hogwarts students have the same level of self-control as Ron to resist the illusory temptation it offers."


    Ron, initially uneasy after being caught by Dumbledore, raised his head, his eyes sparkling as he looked at Harry.


    "If a young wizard becomes obsessed with the illusions they see and can''t¡ªor won''t¡ªaccept that it''s just fantasy, it won''t just be Hogwarts that suffers," Harry added.


    From the moment Dumbledore appeared, Harry had already connected the dots in his mind.


    This was undoubtedly a setup by Dumbledore, specifically designed to lure him to the Mirror of Erised.


    But why? What was the purpose of this? Harry pondered for a long time but couldn''t figure it out.


    Dumbledore suddenly felt a bit choked up. These were words he had planned to use to lecture Harry.


    But now? How had things flipped so that Harry was using them to lecture him instead?


    He looked at Harry and found the boy meeting his gaze steadily.


    The young man radiated like the sun at seven or eight in the morning¡ªbright but not blinding, exuding an unyielding righteousness.


    Perhaps I was overthinking this, Dumbledore mused.


    A child like this must be truly extraordinary.


    "I have to admit, you''re absolutely right, Harry," Dumbledore said with a warm smile. "I''ll have someone remove the mirror later tonight."


    "Very well, Professor. Then Ron and I won''t disturb your rest any further," Harry said, pulling Ron along. "Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore."


    "By the way," Ron suddenly asked, "Professor Dumbledore, what do you see in the mirror?"


    Dumbledore paused, then smiled. "Me? Hmm, much the same as Harry¡ªwoolen socks."


    ---


    The two boys hurried back to the Gryffindor common room. After the Fat Lady confirmed the password, Ron sighed in relief.


    "Merlin, I thought Dumbledore was going to dock points from us. I can''t believe he let us off so easily," Ron said, dropping onto a chair and carefully folding the Invisibility Cloak.


    Harry raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he just forgot. Let''s get some rest."


    Lying in bed that night, Harry couldn''t shake the question of why Dumbledore had placed the Mirror of Erised there, seemingly baiting him to approach it.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    He doubted it was mere curiosity on Dumbledore''s part to see what the "Boy Who Lived" desired most.


    He decided to keep the matter in mind and discuss it with Hermione once she returned.


    ---


    The day before the holiday ended, Hermione finally came back to school.


    After hearing Harry''s analysis, Hermione offered a different perspective.


    "I don''t think Professor Dumbledore means you any harm," she began. "He''s the greatest white wizard of our time. If he had any intentions toward you, it might simply be to test your character¡ªlike whether you''d become obsessed with the Mirror of Erised."


    "I agree with Hermione," Ron said, raising his hand. "But Harry''s concerns aren''t unfounded either. Could it be that you''re performing so well that he suspects you''ve come into contact with some dark magical artifact?"


    "Hard to say." Harry idly spun a fountain pen in his hand. Perhaps he was too forceful, as a streak of blue ink flicked from the pen''s nib and splattered onto Draco Malfoy''s face as he passed by.


    "Sorry," Harry said to Draco.


    Draco shot Harry a cold, venomous look, wiped his cheek, and continued walking without a word.


    "What''s going on?" Ron whispered. "That''s not like him. The old Draco would have been yelling, ''I''ll tell my father!'' by now."


    "Have you noticed that he looks even paler than before the holiday?" Hermione leaned closer to the table, nearly lying on it. "Honestly, his eyes just now gave me the creeps¡ªlike a snake''s. It was unsettling."


    Harry didn''t pay it much mind. After all, Draco hadn''t said anything, and besides, Harry was the one who splattered ink on him first.


    When Draco sat at the Slytherin table, Pansy let out a gasp.


    "My goodness, Draco, what happened to you?"


    She took out a handkerchief and walked over to wipe his face with concern.


    Draco allowed Pansy to clean his cheek but felt increasingly irritable.


    Later, back in the Slytherin common room, Draco sat in a secluded corner, instructing Crabbe and Goyle to stand guard and keep others away.


    He opened a notebook, dipped his quill in ink, and wrote:


    Ancestor, you once said you''d teach me some spells to deal with that insufferable Potter. Just now, he even dared to flick ink onto my face. Now that we''re back at school, I hope you''ll keep your promise.


    Moments later, elegant handwriting appeared on the notebook''s pages.


    "Relax, my descendant. The great me never deceives a child like you..."


    But I can''t wait anymore! I want to curse that wretched Potter''s face right now! Draco wrote in agitation, not even understanding his own emotions.


    After writing that, Draco felt a brief moment of confusion.


    What''s wrong with me?


    But he couldn''t dwell on it. Another faint wave of magic passed from the notebook.


    Draco''s agitated emotions surged again, brushing aside his doubts.


    Along with them, his patience with the notebook wore thin.


    At home, the notebook had continually delayed, saying it would teach him spells only once he returned to school.


    Now they were back, yet the notebook still showed no intention of teaching him anything. Draco was losing his patience.


    "If you wish to defeat Harry Potter, I have a suggestion for you."


    The notebook''s words were enticing.


    Consumed by emotion, Draco was completely captivated. He gritted his teeth and wrote, "What is it? Just tell me."


    Elegant handwriting surfaced on the page.


    "Have you ever heard of the ''Heir of Slytherin''?"


    "The Heir of Slytherin?" Draco wrote back, confused.


    "Yes, my descendant," the notebook replied. "A friend of mine is the Heir of Slytherin. Through him, I learned of an absolutely safe, absolutely secret location. My Merlin''s treasure is hidden there..."


    At this, the writing faded entirely.


    Before Draco could respond, new writing appeared.


    But this time, the script was no longer elegant¡ªit was jagged and erratic.


    "Do you... want to know?"


    ----


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 Chapter 68: Truly Can’t Understand You Slytherins

    In the blink of an eye, the new school term began as scheduled.


    Most students were listless and unmotivated, still lost in the afterglow of the holiday¡ªexcept for a few academic overachievers like Hermione.


    The teachers, however, were much the same as ever, especially Professor Snape, who seemed to be in far better spirits than he had been over the break.


    This was evident from the steadily dwindling number of rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass.


    But there were exceptions.


    During the first Potions class after the holiday, under Snape¡¯s watchful eye, Harry skillfully completed a cauldron of potion.


    "Not bad potion-making skills," Professor Snape remarked from behind him.


    Harry turned, feeling a slight discomfort in his shoulder. He reached up with his other hand to rub it, his face partially obscured by his arm, leaving only a pair of green eyes visible.


    Was it an illusion, or did Snape¡¯s expression soften¡ªperhaps even show a trace of satisfaction?


    ¡°Three points to Gryffindor for your potion skills,¡± Snape declared.


    Ron, seated nearby, gawked in shock before his eyes quickly narrowed.


    Merlin¡¯s socks! Snape¡­ gave points to Gryffindor?!


    What in bloody hell? Had the sun risen in the west today?


    He stole a glance upward, wondering if Snape had, by some miracle, washed his hair that morning.


    No such luck. The greasy strands remained as unkempt as ever, perfectly matching his usual demeanor.


    Draco Malfoy¡¯s expression darkened. He sneered but said nothing.


    By lunchtime, all of Gryffindor was buzzing about this unprecedented event.


    ¡°My word, Snape actually gave us points!¡± Ron exclaimed, still incredulous. ¡°Merlin knows Gryffindor hasn¡¯t earned a single point in Potions since he became a professor!¡±


    ¡°Forget about Snape for a second!¡± Hermione whispered urgently. ¡°Before the holiday, I asked you two to find out what Fluffy is guarding. Don¡¯t tell me you spent the entire break with nothing to show for it!¡±


    Had Snape not been mentioned just now, she might have forgotten about the matter entirely.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Ron hesitated, suddenly at a loss for words. Over the holiday, aside from staying at the Grangers¡¯ house, he¡¯d been preoccupied with devouring extra drumsticks and playing wizard chess.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    As for finding out what Fluffy was guarding¡­ that had completely slipped his mind.


    Come on, I barely had any free time before the holiday. Was I supposed to have none during it either? What kind of break would that be?


    ¡°What about you, Harry?¡± Hermione turned to him expectantly.


    Harry cleared his throat. Over the holiday, he had been engrossed in reading Cassandra¡¯s notes¡ªor perhaps her diary¡ªand hadn¡¯t given Fluffy much thought.


    But in a pinch, inspiration struck.


    ¡°Remember how Dumbledore mentioned that room on the fourth floor at the start of the school year?¡± Harry said in a low voice. ¡°If my guess is correct, that abandoned classroom must be where Fluffy is.¡±


    ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± Hermione frowned.


    Meeting her skeptical gaze, Harry replied evenly, ¡°Because it¡¯s the one place Dumbledore expressly forbade us from visiting. Either way, we¡¯ll know for sure if we check it out.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± Hermione said, pursing her lips. ¡°You know it¡¯s strictly off-limits. I¡¯m not getting expelled just because of your hunch.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right, Harry,¡± Ron added in a hushed voice. ¡°Dumbledore must have his reasons.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Harry conceded, dropping the subject. He didn¡¯t want to drag his friends into anything dangerous anyway.


    He¡¯d wait until his next detention with Snape¡ªthen, he¡¯d sneak off to investigate alone.


    As long as he protected the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, he could borrow it from Flamel over the summer, and everything would be fine.


    By then, he would be able to enter the Chamber of Secrets without issue.


    ¡°At least you¡¯ve got it easier now,¡± Ron said. ¡°Snape won¡¯t be as hard on you during detention. That photo really worked wonders.¡±


    ¡°What photo?¡± Hermione asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Harry¡¯s aunt sent him a few pictures of his mum from her school days. One of them was a photo of her with Snape,¡± Ron explained. ¡°Harry picked that one and gave it to him as a gift. Got a vial of Felix Felicis in return.¡±


    ¡°It seems your hunch was right, Harry,¡± Hermione admitted, though she was still curious. ¡°But why was there a photo of your mum with Snape, but not one with your dad and Snape?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± Harry said with a shrug. ¡°Maybe the ones with my dad and Snape are hidden somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°That must be it,¡± Ron agreed. ¡°Snape must¡¯ve been pretty touched to get that photo.¡±


    Indeed, he had been.


    ---


    That evening, when Harry arrived at Snape¡¯s underground office for detention, the professor didn¡¯t make him handle unpleasant potion ingredients as usual. Instead, he had him brew a potion.


    ¡°Thunderbrew,¡± Snape drawled in his slow, silky tone. ¡°When thrown, it conjures a lightning storm to strike your enemies. The recipe, by the way, was¡­¡±


    Snape hesitated mid-sentence.


    ¡°What is it, Professor?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°¡­Discovered by your mother in a lost text,¡± Snape said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. ¡°With your potion skills, I suppose you¡¯re ready to learn it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Professor,¡± Harry replied dutifully, though he thought to himself: We used Thunderbrew all the time back then¡­


    It had been Gareth¡¯s favorite potion, the ingredients frequently pilfered from Professor Sharp¡¯s stores.


    But the true master of Thunderbrew had been Cassandra.


    The Malfoys certainly lived up to their reputation as a platinum-tier family. Cassandra¡¯s supply of Thunderbrew had seemed endless¡ªno one quite knew how many magical items her tiny pouch could hold.


    ¡°Two ounces of leech juice, two shriveled fig fruits, and three and one-third ounces of corpse stench,¡± Snape dictated slowly. ¡°Typically, corpse stench can be found on wights. But I wouldn¡¯t recommend you face those creatures at your age¡ªafter all, wights aren¡¯t something a young troll like you could handle.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Professor,¡± Harry replied, deliberately ignoring the ¡°young troll¡± comment.


    After demonstrating the proper brewing technique, Snape dismissed him unceremoniously.


    When Harry stepped out of the office, a freshly brewed vial of Thunderbrew was clutched in his hands.


    Truly can¡¯t understand you Slytherins, Harry thought.


    ----


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 Chapter 69: The Petrified Cat

    Harry didn¡¯t return to the Gryffindor common room immediately. Instead, he made a detour to the abandoned classroom on the fourth floor to check on Fluffy. Only after confirming that the three-headed dog was still there did he head back, reassured.


    Defense Against the Dark Arts on Wednesday was as tedious as ever. The only "new" development was Professor Quirrell¡¯s growing tendency to single out Gryffindors for criticism.


    Maybe it was payback for the snowball ambush during Christmas. Or perhaps it had something to do with the unfortunate incident involving a biting cabbage. Either way, the glint of barely restrained madness in Quirrell¡¯s eyes when he looked at Harry was impossible to ignore.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Quirrell?¡± Hermione whispered. ¡°The way he¡¯s staring at Harry¡­ honestly, even Snape doesn¡¯t glare like that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing major,¡± Ron said with a grin. ¡°Just a tiny misunderstanding between Harry and Quirrell.¡±


    ¡°What kind of misunderstanding?¡± Hermione asked, lowering her voice.


    Ron tried to sound casual. ¡°Well¡­ Harry might¡¯ve accidentally thrown a biting cabbage at the back of Quirrell¡¯s head.¡±


    Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. ¡°You call that a small misunderstanding?¡±


    ¡°What else would you call it?¡± Ron shrugged, reaching for a drumstick from the platter in front of him. Holding it aloft, he muttered, "My precious," in a flawless Gollum impression before taking a dramatic bite.


    Hermione groaned. ¡°Honestly, Ron! Between Professor Snape and now Quirrell, this year¡¯s House Cup is doomed.¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± Ron said dismissively. ¡°We weren¡¯t winning it anyway. Snape¡¯s made sure of that. He docks points every time we so much as breathe near him.¡± Turning to Seamus and Neville, he added, ¡°Anyway, tonight¡¯s the night you officially join the Duelist Club.¡±


    Harry had made the arrangements. With Astronomy class not until eleven, they had enough time before detention and class to initiate the new members.


    ¡°Looking forward to testing your skills, Ron,¡± Seamus said eagerly.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ron replied. Then, shooting Seamus a meaningful look, he added, ¡°Oh, but don¡¯t forget to bring Harry a few sandwiches. He¡¯s stuck in detention with Snape.¡±


    ¡°Not just sandwiches,¡± Hermione interjected. ¡°Get some caramel pudding too¡ªit¡¯s excellent today. And maybe some fruit, for balance.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    While Harry¡¯s friends planned his post-detention meal, he was in Snape¡¯s dimly lit dungeon office, brewing a Thunderbrew potion under the professor¡¯s watchful gaze.


    For once, Snape wasn¡¯t the one doing the brewing¡ªHarry was.


    As he worked, Snape¡¯s perpetual scowl seemed to soften ever so slightly. The corners of his thin lips almost twitched, as if they were toying with the idea of forming a smile.


    This boy¡­ Snape thought to himself. He¡¯s so much like Lily. Her talent for Potions runs in his veins.


    Harry, oblivious to Snape¡¯s musings, focused on the Thunderbrew while his mind churned over Quirrell. He was becoming more and more convinced that the man¡¯s turban concealed something sinister. He had even attempted to cast Revelio during class, only to find that a strange protective magic shielded the turban, thwarting his efforts.


    ¡°Hungry¡­ so hungry¡­ it¡¯s been so long¡­¡±


    Harry froze. The words hadn¡¯t been spoken aloud, but he was sure he had heard them.


    Then, his stomach growled audibly, breaking the eerie silence.


    Snape arched an eyebrow. ¡°At your age, it¡¯s common for young trolls to experience growth spurts. Your considerate professor won¡¯t detain you for long¡ªno need for melodramatic protests.¡±


    Harry chose not to explain, instead focusing on carefully ladling the completed Thunderbrew into a container.


    ¡°Blood¡­ slaughter¡­ hungry¡­¡±


    There it was again¡ªa chilling voice, whispering from somewhere above.


    ¡°Professor, did you hear that?¡± Harry asked, looking up. ¡°It sounded¡­ cold. Talking about blood and slaughter.¡±


    Snape¡¯s dark eyes studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in his usual slow drawl, he said, ¡°Class dismissed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Professor.¡± Harry stood, ready to bolt.


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    Harry sighed, turning back. Without a word, he handed the Thunderbrew to Snape, who stored it in a cabinet with his usual brisk efficiency.


    ¡°Rip you apart¡­ kill you¡­¡±


    The voice was louder now, more distinct.


    ¡°Professor, are you sure you didn¡¯t hear that?¡± Harry pressed again.


    Snape¡¯s glare hardened. ¡°I believe I¡¯ve already dismissed you, Mr. Potter. There¡¯s no need to invent excuses to linger.¡±


    With no other choice, Harry exited the dungeon.


    Outside, he pressed his ear to the stone wall, straining to hear the voice again.


    ¡°Kill¡­ it¡¯s time¡­¡±


    The whisper faded, replaced by the soft, unmistakable sound of something slithering.


    Harry followed the noise up the stairs, leading to the Entrance Hall.


    Then, suddenly, it stopped.


    He glanced down and realized he had stepped into a puddle. Moving his foot aside, he saw the flickering reflection of a flame¡ªand something else.


    Looking up, his breath caught.


    Hanging stiffly from a torch bracket was Mrs. Norris, Filch¡¯s beloved cat. Her body was rigid, her eyes wide with terror, and her mouth frozen in a silent snarl.


    ¡°Oh no¡­¡±


    Filch appeared, stumbling toward Mrs. Norris. His trembling hands reached out but didn¡¯t touch her. Then, his gaze snapped to Harry, and his face twisted with fury.


    ¡°You! You killed her!¡± he bellowed. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll kill you!¡±


    Before Harry could explain, Filch lunged at him.


    Starving, falsely accused, and seething with frustration, Harry¡¯s patience snapped. He smirked coldly, drawing his wand as the enraged caretaker charged.


    ----


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 Chapter 70: Potter Is Our King

    To be honest, Filch wasn¡¯t a likable person. Even Hagrid, known for his kind-hearted nature, would show clear disgust whenever Filch was mentioned.


    And now, seeing Filch¡¯s repulsive face charging at him, Harry couldn¡¯t help but be reminded of Uncle Vernon.


    But Uncle Vernon was different¡ªat least he was technically family and had, begrudgingly, fed Harry. Filch, on the other hand? Besides being obnoxious, he had done absolutely nothing for him.


    The comparison only fueled Harry¡¯s anger further.


    Accusing me of petrifying your cat?


    If I were truly just a first-year student, maybe I would desperately try to prove my innocence.


    But now?


    Even if I did petrify your cat, what could you possibly do about it?


    ¡°Depulso!¡± Harry pointed his wand at Filch. A jet of light shot out from its tip, striking the charging caretaker.


    Filch flew backward as if he had been hit by a speeding truck, landing with a resounding thud.


    ¡°Ahhh!¡± Filch screamed, his limbs flailing helplessly in mid-air.


    ¡°Harry!¡±


    Dumbledore¡¯s urgent voice rang out from the entrance hall.


    At the same time, a soft cushion appeared behind Filch, breaking his fall and preventing any serious injuries.


    But before Filch could say another word, Harry had already cast another spell.


    ¡°Petrificus Totalus!¡±


    Filch¡¯s body stiffened immediately, freezing in an awkward position on the cushion.


    At that moment, students began spilling out of the Great Hall, just in time to witness the scene.


    ¡°Potter is our king!¡± The Weasley twins were the first to cheer, their voices carrying through the crowd.


    Filch¡¯s unpopularity was well-known. His office ceiling was adorned with polished iron chains and shackles, kept ready for the day he might be allowed to punish unruly students¡ªa task he openly relished.


    He would even use those chains to intimidate students, scaring many into submission and forcing them to do dirty or tedious tasks for him.


    Now, Harry had publicly humiliated Filch outside the Great Hall, in front of the entire school, including Headmaster Dumbledore. How could the students not be thrilled?


    The crowd erupted into cheers, especially the Gryffindors, who had suffered the most under Filch¡¯s threats and detentions.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Even the Slytherins didn¡¯t applaud, but their gazes betrayed a mix of admiration and approval.


    What a badass.


    ¡°Potter!¡±


    Professor McGonagall¡¯s stern voice cut through the chaos. She marched up to Harry, her expression thunderous. ¡°Mr. Potter! What on earth is going on? How dare you¡ªhow dare you attack the castle¡¯s caretaker!¡±


    ¡°Professor McGonagall.¡±


    Despite his anger, Harry maintained his composure, his tone polite. ¡°I believe, Professor, that you should withhold judgment until you understand the full context of the situation.¡±


    McGonagall¡¯s lips twitched, and she let out a quiet sigh of exasperation.


    This boy¡­ he¡¯s just like James!


    Attacking the castle¡¯s caretaker in front of the entire school, the staff, and the headmaster¡­


    The impact of this incident was disastrous!


    Even James wouldn¡¯t have dared to go this far¡ªat most, he would¡¯ve cast a harmless prank spell on a fellow student.


    If not for Albus¡¯s timely intervention, Filch might have ended up in the hospital wing for months!


    ¡°A remarkable combination of spells! Impressive dueling skills!¡±


    A sharp voice broke through the crowd.


    Harry turned toward the speaker¡ªit was Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw.


    Standing on his tiptoes, Flitwick raised a hand so high it seemed like he wanted to touch the ceiling, giving Harry a big thumbs-up.


    Professor Sprout discreetly pulled Flitwick back down, clearly thinking this was not the appropriate time for praise.


    ¡°Oh, Filius, perhaps now isn¡¯t the best time to be complimenting Mr. Potter,¡± McGonagall said, pulling out her wand to undo the spell on Filch.


    A flash of red light later, Filch regained his mobility and struggled to his feet.


    Despite the fear still etched on his face, Filch¡¯s anger over Mrs. Norris¡¯s fate pushed him to point a trembling finger at Harry. ¡°This Potter! This Potter killed my Mrs. Norris! He even hung her on the wall! I¡¯ll kill him! I¡¯ll kill him!¡±


    ¡°You see?¡± Harry said calmly, his voice steady. ¡°He threatened to kill me first and even tried to act on it by charging at me. Surely, Professor, anyone would react under such circumstances?¡±


    The boy stood tall, elegant, powerful, and poised. Though only eleven, he exuded a presence that demanded respect.


    He should¡¯ve been in Slytherin, thought Slytherin prefect Miss Farley, a pang of regret crossing her mind.


    McGonagall¡¯s stern expression softened slightly as she asked again, ¡°Then what about the cat? Is Filch falsely accusing you?¡±


    Harry was a bit surprised. Was the famously fair and impartial Professor McGonagall showing favoritism?


    Her question practically implied she believed Harry might be innocent.


    ¡°He¡¯s right here!¡± Filch roared, his sagging face turning a deep shade of purple. ¡°He¡¯s the only one who could¡¯ve been at the scene of the crime! Why weren¡¯t you in the Great Hall? What were you doing out here? Explain yourself!¡±


    ¡°So what if I did it? What can you do about it?¡± Harry crossed his arms, his gaze cold as he stared Filch down. ¡°Not only did I petrify your cat, but I also petrified you in front of the entire school¡ª¡±


    Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one had expected Harry to be so brazen, openly admitting to his actions and even threatening Filch in front of the professors and the headmaster.


    ¡°Allow me to explain.¡±


    A greasy, drawn-out voice interrupted the tension.


    ¡°I can vouch for Mr. Potter,¡± said Professor Snape, gliding toward the scene like a shadow. ¡°He was in my Potions office brewing potions just moments ago. I believe this is a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We must not wrongfully accuse an innocent student.¡±


    Harry turned, about to thank him, but Snape wasn¡¯t finished.


    ¡°However,¡± Snape continued, his tone shifting, ¡°we also cannot overlook any wrongdoing. Attacking the castle¡¯s caretaker, especially so publicly, is unacceptable. As such, I believe Gryffindor should lose fifty points as a penalty.¡±


    Harry raised his head just in time to catch the smirk tugging at Snape¡¯s lips.


    It was clear¡ªno matter which Gryffindor broke the rules, Snape would always be there to gleefully deduct points.


    ----


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 Chapter 71: "Dumbledore, Are You Teaching Me How to Do Things?"

    <div>


    With Professor Snape testifying, Filch had no choice but to shut his mouth.


    Just then, Dumbledore emerged from the hall.


    The first thing he did was wave his wand, gently lowering Mrs. Norris from the wall. After carefully examining her with a series of spells, he looked up and said, ¡°Rest assured, Argus. Mrs. Norris isn¡¯t dead¡ªshe¡¯s been petrified. It¡¯s an advanced form of dark magic, one that even I cannot easily counter.¡±


    ¡°This also proves Harry¡¯s innocence,¡± Dumbledore added. ¡°A first-year student couldn¡¯t possibly have access to such magic.¡±


    ¡°My cat! My poor cat!¡± Filch¡¯s face twisted with rage. ¡°Someone must pay for this!¡±


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean an innocent person should bear the cost, Argus,¡± Dumbledore said gravely. Then, turning to Harry, he continued, ¡°That said, Harry, you must still face consequences for your actions. Next Thursday evening, you¡¯ll accompany Hagrid on patrol in the Forbidden Forest.¡±


    ¡°Since Professor Snape has already deducted points from Gryffindor, I won¡¯t impose further punishment,¡± Dumbledore added.


    ¡°Yes, Headmaster,¡± Harry replied, standing tall. Then, with quiet conviction, he added, ¡°But I still believe I did nothing wrong.¡±


    The students exchanged stunned glances, their expressions shifting from shock to admiration. Who would have thought that after knocking down a staff member, Harry would refuse to admit fault¡ªeven before the Headmaster?


    Any other student would have tucked their tail between their legs and confessed by now.


    But not Harry. He stood his ground and openly declared his innocence.


    That wasn¡¯t just courage¡ªit was sheer audacity.


    ¡°Oh, of course not,¡± Dumbledore said, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. ¡°Harry, your mistake was casting a spell on someone in front of witnesses.¡±


    Harry met the old Headmaster¡¯s gaze, catching the subtle lesson behind his words.


    ¡°I do admit to that,¡± Harry nodded.


    The implication was clear: if no one saw it, it didn¡¯t count as a mistake.


    ¡°Well then, prefects, take your students back. It¡¯s getting late,¡± Dumbledore instructed.


    With this unexpected turn of events, Harry and his friends decided to postpone their planned visit to the Room of Requirement.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    After all, Gryffindor had just lost fifty points, and Harry had publicly confronted Filch. A nighttime stroll seemed unwise¡ªwho knew if Professor Snape was lurking nearby, waiting to deduct even more points?


    Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry braced himself for an onslaught of criticism. Surely, losing fifty points would earn him some backlash.


    But to his surprise, he was greeted like a hero.


    Was he imagining things, or were there even a few Hufflepuffs mingling in the Gryffindor common room?


    ¡°Harry, you¡¯re the man!¡± Lee Jordan exclaimed, his bright grin standing out against his dark skin.


    Harry was puzzled. He glanced at Hermione, who was clapping for him, then at his cheering classmates. ¡°Didn¡¯t I just lose fifty points for Gryffindor? Why are you all¡­¡±


    ¡°Lose points?¡± the Weasley twins chorused. ¡°Harry, mate, getting Snape to award Gryffindor three points is something we can brag about for life!¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± Percy said, straightening his posture and clapping for Harry. ¡°Though, I must point out, Harry, there were better ways to handle the situation¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, Percy, don¡¯t spoil the fun,¡± the twins interrupted, rolling their eyes in unison.


    Their words were met with enthusiastic agreement from the Gryffindors, and even a few nods from the Hufflepuffs.


    ¡°We brought butterbeer and cookies!¡± announced a tall, handsome Hufflepuff boy. ¡°Let¡¯s throw a party to celebrate Harry for standing up to Filch!¡±


    It was Cedric Diggory. Harry recognized him.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± the students cheered.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some Muggle snacks,¡± Harry offered. ¡°Everyone can share.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll help!¡± Ron volunteered eagerly.


    Before long, Ron returned¡ªdragging Harry¡¯s entire suitcase.


    Harry¡¯s eye twitched.


    Nice one, Ron. Are you planning to empty my entire stash?


    But he didn¡¯t stop him. Opportunities to bond with classmates like this were rare.


    ¡°For our Lion King!¡± Fred Weasley stood on a stool, raising his voice.


    ¡°Potter! Potter! Potter!¡± the crowd chanted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Hermione said amidst the noise, turning to upperclassman Angelina Johnson. ¡°Why is everyone so happy? It¡¯s as if Gryffindor didn¡¯t just lose points.¡±


    ¡°Losing points is disappointing, sure,¡± Angelina replied, cracking open a can of soda. ¡°But seeing Filch get what he deserves? That¡¯s something to celebrate! You know, when I was a first-year, he threatened to string me up by my ankles for some minor infraction!¡±


    ¡°Same here!¡±


    ¡°Me too!¡±


    ¡°And me!¡±


    The surrounding students eagerly shared their grievances, their faces filled with frustration toward Filch.


    ¡°His cat is just as bad as he is,¡± one student complained. ¡°She¡¯s worse than a bloodhound. I can¡¯t stand either of them, not even a little!¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Hermione said thoughtfully, ¡°Dumbledore assigned Harry detention in the Forbidden Forest. At the start of term, he warned us how dangerous it was. Do you think Harry might be in danger?¡±


    ¡°Danger?¡± Angelina paused mid-sip, looking puzzled. ¡°Wait, hold on¡ªhow does this¡­ work?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡± Hermione popped open the soda for her with a click and handed it back.


    ¡°Delicious!¡± Angelina grinned in satisfaction.


    She set the soda down and, in an exaggerated tone, said to Hermione, ¡°Oh, Hermione, how could you even think that? Our Savior has already proven his strength. What you should be worried about isn¡¯t whether Harry is in danger, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Whether the Forbidden Forest is in danger,¡± Alicia Spinnet finished with a grin.


    Despite their reassurances, Hermione couldn¡¯t shake her unease.


    Harry was just a first-year student. Could Hagrid really protect him from the dangers lurking in the Forbidden Forest?


    ----


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    <div>

 Chapter 72: Online Chats Are Risky, Investments Require Caution

    Two days ago, in the Slytherin common room.


    "Tell me about the magical world," a lazy yet compelling script appeared in the notebook. "I¡¯ve already shared with you the secret of the Chamber of Secrets; it¡¯s only fair you tell me how the magical world has changed. After all, I¡¯ve been gone for many years."


    "Besides, knowing what has happened will help me guide you better."


    "Where should I start?" Draco stretched his slightly aching hand, pausing briefly before responding in the notebook. "Apologies, ancestor. If I were to recount everything since your time, it would take three days and nights without pause."


    "Then tell me about your headmaster. Is it still Phineas Nigellus Black?"


    "Oh, no. The current headmaster is Dumbledore," Draco wrote, his handwriting becoming visibly impatient at the mention of the name. "That sanctimonious old fool! He even allows Muggle-borns to attend Hogwarts. My father says someone like him could never manage the school properly."


    "I trust your father¡¯s judgment," the notebook responded with a hint of amusement. "Does this Dumbledore have any remarkable tales?"


    "He defeated a Dark wizard named Grindelwald," Draco wrote, adding, "The world calls him the greatest white wizard."


    "The greatest white wizard?" The words on the page turned eager. "Tell me, my descendant, aside from this Grindelwald, does this so-called great white wizard have any other enemies?"


    Draco pondered for a moment before answering truthfully: "Yes, there¡¯s You-Know-Who¡ª"


    "I know who?" The handwriting turned elegant again. "Don¡¯t joke, Draco. How could I possibly know this person?"


    "Voldemort," Draco wrote, shuddering slightly even as he spelled out the name. "We usually don¡¯t say his name directly."


    "Why not?" the notebook inquired.


    "Fear," Draco replied, hesitating before adding, "and respect, because he promises to restore pure-blood wizards to their rightful place."


    The notebook¡¯s handwriting turned gleeful: "Exactly! Pure-blood wizards like us were born to be superior. This Voldemort¡¯s ideals are commendable... So, where is he now?"


    Draco hesitated for a long while before writing: "Harry Potter. He¡¯s said to be the Chosen One, prophesied to defeat Voldemort. When Potter was just a year old, Voldemort tried to kill him but disappeared after failing. People say Harry Potter defeated Voldemort... He hasn¡¯t appeared for the past ten years."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The notebook fell silent.


    Draco waited for a long time but received no reply.


    "Ancestor? Ancestor?" he wrote again.


    Unexpectedly, the notebook¡¯s handwriting turned erratic.


    "Impossible! Absolutely impossible! How could a one-year-old child defeat him?"


    "Ancestor? Why are you so upset about Voldemort¡¯s defeat?" Draco asked, confused by his ancestor¡¯s reaction.


    The notebook remained quiet for a moment before writing slowly: "I just think this so-called Dark Lord... isn¡¯t much of a threat if he couldn¡¯t even kill a one-year-old child."


    Draco hesitated but chose not to agree outright with his ancestor¡¯s harsh judgment, deciding to temper emotion with reason.


    "Don¡¯t say that, ancestor. Perhaps Dumbledore ambushed him."


    "Enough, Draco," the handwriting returned to its refined elegance. "You mentioned your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is a disgrace? Take me to his class tomorrow so I can observe his teaching. Then, I¡¯ll give you focused training to improve your dueling and spellcasting¡ªso you can defeat that irritating Potter."


    "Yes, ancestor," Draco replied excitedly, a glint of anticipation in his eyes.


    -----


    The next day, Tuesday, Draco dutifully brought the notebook to Defense Against the Dark Arts class.


    As he opened it to write, the notebook had already given its opinion.


    "Put me away."


    Obediently, Draco closed the notebook and tucked it into his pocket.


    Professor Quirrell, who was holding a lizard while lecturing at the front of the class, froze momentarily before continuing to explain the uses of lizard blood.


    What Draco didn¡¯t realize was that within the notebook, a tempest of emotions was raging.


    Pathetic. Useless.


    Stuck to the back of someone¡¯s head like a parasite!


    Living like this... do you even deserve to be the main soul?


    After class, Draco hurriedly grabbed a quick bite before rushing back to the Slytherin common room.


    "Ancestor, why did you ask me to put you away?" he asked.


    "I could hear everything even from your pocket," the notebook replied. "Stammering, trembling... How could someone like that be a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"


    The handwriting paused, as though gathering its thoughts.


    Then another sentence appeared below.


    "So, my descendant, I need some power."


    "What kind of power?" Draco asked eagerly.


    "The kind that will allow me to manifest before you and guide you directly," the notebook explained.


    "Really?" Draco¡¯s excitement grew. After all their conversations, his ancestor might finally appear before him!


    He quickly wrote: "What should I do to give you this power? Can I provide it?"


    "No, my child," the notebook¡¯s tone turned gentle. "You are my most cherished descendant. How could I bear to take your strength?"


    Draco¡¯s eyes grew misty with emotion.


    He was deeply moved.


    "Listen to me," the notebook continued. "You have two followers¡ªCrabbe and Goyle, correct? Their bodies seem sturdy enough. Let them hold the notebook, and I¡¯ll borrow a bit of their strength."


    Crabbe and Goyle?


    Draco felt a slight twinge of jealousy but resolved to follow his ancestor¡¯s instructions.


    "Crabbe, Goyle, come here," he called.


    Soon enough, the two entered, standing together like a bottle of butterbeer and a can of corned beef.


    "You two, hold this notebook," Draco instructed, handing it over.


    Without hesitation, Crabbe and Goyle each grabbed one side of the notebook.


    As they did, faint golden letters spelling T.M. Riddle shimmered on the cover before fading away, replaced by C.C. Malfoy.


    ----


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 Chapter 73: Crossdressing, But It’s Tom Riddle

    Draco sat restlessly, his anxiety palpable. He had no idea how his ancestor intended to absorb power.


    "Crabbe, I feel so hungry," Goyle muttered, rubbing his stomach.


    "Me too, Goyle," Crabbe echoed, also clutching his belly. "But didn¡¯t we just eat a ton of food earlier?"


    Draco cast them a disdainful glance. Suddenly, a thought struck him.


    Hungry?


    Could it be that his ancestor had already absorbed the energy?


    "Alright, you two," Draco said to them. "Give me the notebook and go get something to eat."


    "Okay, boss." The two of them obediently handed him the notebook and eagerly headed for the door.


    "Move, you''re blocking the way!" Crabbe said, shoving Goyle, who was stuck in the doorway. With their equally bulky builds, squeezing through together was impossible.


    "Who¡¯s blocking who?" Goyle grumbled as he stepped back. "You go first!"


    Once they had shut the door and their footsteps faded, Draco wasted no time grabbing the notebook. Placing it on the desk, he wrote, Ancestor, how about it? Was it enough?


    A golden shimmer flashed across the notebook, and delicate golden handwriting appeared:


    ¡°It¡¯s done, my child. Step aside.¡±


    Obediently, Draco moved away, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the notebook.


    Moments later, another flash of light erupted from the notebook, so brilliant it forced Draco to shield his eyes.


    When he reopened them, a translucent woman with long black hair and an ethereal beauty stood before him.


    The girl had soft features and eyes of pale crimson, like the rarest rubies in the world.


    "An¡­Ancestor?" Draco stammered, staring at the stunning girl before him. For reasons unknown, his heart began pounding erratically, like a rabbit in his chest.


    The ethereal girl lightly ran her thumb across her throat, tilting her head slightly. She gazed at the dazed Draco with her captivating crimson eyes, her lips curling into a bewitching smile.


    Her smile is so beautiful, Draco thought, before shaking his head violently to dispel the inappropriate notion.


    No, Draco! This is your ancestor! How could you have such disrespectful thoughts?


    Wait¡­ancestor?


    Suddenly doubtful, Draco raised his head again to confirm. Then he asked hesitantly, "Ancestor, why is your hair black?"The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Ah¡­" The girl stroked her long hair and explained casually, "It¡¯s because of the dark magic I used to create this notebook, child."


    "I see¡­" Draco nodded, his confusion clearing.


    The girl continued, "However, I think I should go by a new name. After all, Dumbledore isn¡¯t unfamiliar with the name Cassandra Malfoy. You should know he was already at Hogwarts during my seventh year. You may call me Merope."


    Merope? Draco mused. What a beautiful name.


    Merope beckoned with a finger, and the notebook''s gilded "C.C. Malfoy" shifted to "Draco Malfoy."


    "This is our little secret. From now on, this notebook is yours." Merope extended a finger toward Draco, her voice soft and alluring. "But¡­since you helped me, it¡¯s time I rewarded you."


    "What kind of reward?" Draco asked eagerly.


    Merope stepped forward and pressed her hand to his forehead.


    Draco felt a strange energy flow into his body, spreading to every corner of his being. Even his recent fatigue seemed to vanish, leaving him feeling as strong as a bull.


    "Take up your wand," Merope said, tilting her chin slightly.


    Draco obeyed, grasping his wand tightly and looking up at her.


    "Like this," Merope instructed, demonstrating a sharp flick and a horizontal slash. "Imagine stunning your opponent. One flick, one slash¡­Stupefy!"


    Draco mimicked her movements, visualizing the spell as she described. Flick, slash¡­


    "Stupefy!" he shouted, aiming his wand at a chair in front of him.


    A beam of light shot from his wand, striking the chair and reducing it to splinters.


    Draco stared, wide-eyed, at the wreckage, then at the wand in his hand, disbelief written across his face.


    Was that¡­my spell?


    "Good children receive rewards, Draco," Merope said, smiling softly. "I borrowed a bit of energy from your two followers and channeled it to you as compensation. As you can see, your improvement is evident."


    "Merope¡­" Tears welled in Draco¡¯s eyes.


    After witnessing Potter and Miss Farley¡¯s duel, he had sunk into despair, convinced he would never stand a chance against Potter.


    That despair had gnawed at him like an Inferius feasting on his soul, leaving him utterly dejected.


    But now, Merope had reignited his hope.


    If this continued, perhaps¡­


    "My child," Merope interrupted, leaning close to his ear, her voice low and persuasive.


    "Maybe¡­you could introduce me to your trusted Slytherin classmates."


    "What?" Draco blinked, startled.


    "I can help them with their questions, even guide them in spell practice," Merope continued, her tone as smooth as silk. "All they need to offer is a small portion of their energy to sustain me. And of course, as my precious child and loyal introducer, I would reward you with a share of their energy."


    "Merope, I¡­" Draco stammered, hesitant.


    "What¡¯s the matter? Don¡¯t you want to?" Merope didn¡¯t seem angry; she simply smiled demurely.


    Yet that smile never quite reached her ruby-red eyes.


    "No¡­no, you need that energy more than I do," Draco hurriedly waved his hands, terrified of misunderstanding. "Compared to that, I¡¯d much rather you¡ª"


    "Be good, Draco." Merope¡¯s expression softened into satisfaction. "As my most treasured child, how could you lose to anyone? Only by mastering great power can you better command your subordinates¡­ And the classmates you bring me will become your most loyal followers."


    Draco¡¯s voice quivered with gratitude. "Thank you, Merope. You¡¯re so kind. You¡¯re truly a wonderful person."


    "Go now, my child," Merope said, leaning lazily against the desk. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Bring me just two more people, and once I¡¯ve replenished my energy, we can visit the Chamber of Secrets together¡ª"


    "I¡¯ll go right away!" Draco exclaimed, bolting from the room.


    As she watched him leave, Merope¡¯s eyes gleamed with a trace of triumph.


    What she hadn¡¯t told Draco was that the power she had granted him wasn¡¯t permanent.


    But still...


    Hmph...


    Voldemort...


    Why shouldn¡¯t I be the main soul?


    ----


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 Chapter 74: Slytherins Little Secret

    In recent days, the professors at Hogwarts noticed something peculiar: the students from Slytherin were dozing off in class.


    It wasn¡¯t surprising if they nodded off during History of Magic or Defense Against the Dark Arts, but even during Snape¡¯s Potions class? One student even fell asleep so profoundly that they knocked over their cauldron, causing a considerable accident.


    Professor Snape was furious, his face turning a shade of purple. Never in his wildest nightmares would he have imagined that a Slytherin student would dare fall asleep under his stern gaze.


    The result was predictable: despite his usual reluctance to dock points from Slytherin, Snape deducted five to twenty points per student depending on the severity of their infractions.


    The unlucky student who lost twenty points had spilled their potion onto a classmate in front of them.


    Since Gryffindor shared Potions class with Slytherin, they weren¡¯t spared either. However, Gryffindor students, wary of Snape¡¯s penchant for finding fault, managed to keep their losses minimal.


    Even Harry wasn¡¯t immune. For stirring his potion just a tad too quickly, Snape docked him one point.


    Under Snape¡¯s scrutinizing authority, both Slytherin¡¯s and Gryffindor¡¯s house points dwindled rapidly, dropping them from first and second place to third and fourth.


    To everyone¡¯s shock, Hufflepuff took first place.


    Slytherin students stomped their feet in frustration, cursing loudly.


    But the most outrageous incident? Slytherin second-year Joseph Rowell actually fell asleep on his broomstick during Flying Class.


    ¡°Wow, you really can sleep anywhere, huh, Sleepy Joe?¡± his classmates mocked.


    ¡°Joe¡± was Joseph¡¯s nickname, and Sleepy Joe didn¡¯t mind the teasing. After all, it was just a small price for the little deal he had with the ever-beautiful Miss Merope.


    Miss Merope was stunning...


    Why couldn¡¯t she be their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?


    Meanwhile, the other professors noticed the peculiar pattern as well. Aside from nodding off in class, Slytherin students seemed unnaturally talented. They mastered spells with ease, as if they had practiced them countless times before.


    The professors chalked it up to Slytherins being diligent and reminded them to take care of their health, never suspecting anything amiss.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Thanks to the points Slytherins earned in other subjects, even Snape turned a blind eye to their behavior. He had bigger fish to fry.


    Thus, every evening, Draco Malfoy could be found standing near the dormitory door, notebook in hand, meticulously keeping track of the queue.


    When a sleep-deprived, groggy classmate emerged from the dormitory, Draco would call out the next name on the list.


    Before bedtime, Merope would share a portion of her power with Draco as promised.


    Draco had visited the Chamber of Secrets once, though he couldn¡¯t recall what had transpired there. Since then, Merope had stopped asking him to bring notes to the chamber. She simply stayed in the Slytherin common room, showing no intention of leaving.


    Draco assumed she had retrieved the "Merlin¡¯s Treasure" and didn¡¯t question it further. After all, he was quite enjoying the benefits of their arrangement.


    ***


    Meanwhile, everything at Gryffindor seemed normal. After Friday¡¯s dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, joined by new members Neville and Seamus, gathered in the Room of Requirement.


    Ron was teaching Seamus, while Hermione coached Neville. Harry practiced Expelliarmus chains and offered feedback to Seamus and Neville when needed.


    After about ten failed attempts at Expelliarmus¡ªwhich all turned into hand-blasting mishaps¡ªHarry stepped forward to stop the frustrated Seamus.


    ¡°Listen, Seamus,¡± Harry said gently to the disheartened boy, ¡°I think I see another path for you¡­¡±


    ¡°Another path?¡± Seamus looked up, puzzled.


    ¡°In the wizarding world, talent is a thing,¡± Harry explained, placing a reassuring hand on Seamus¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Like Cassandra Malfoy from the books¡ªshe was a natural Confringo master. Every spell she cast carried explosive properties¡­¡±


    ¡°Which book did you read that in?¡± Hermione asked curiously, walking over.


    ¡°From the Restricted Section¡­ I don¡¯t remember which one,¡± Harry replied casually.


    Seamus¡¯s eyes lit up with hope. ¡°Really, Harry? Are you saying¡­ I¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, Seamus,¡± Harry said firmly. ¡°Just like that Malfoy woman, you, my friend, are a natural Blasting Curse master. Maybe we should skip Expelliarmus and move on to explosive spells.¡±


    ¡°Awesome!¡± Seamus said eagerly.


    ¡°Now, watch how I do it,¡± Harry instructed, demonstrating as he waved his wand at a training dummy.


    ¡°Confringo!¡±


    An orange light shot from Harry¡¯s wand, striking the dummy. It exploded in a dazzling burst, scattering its limbs across the floor before dissolving into sand.


    ¡°Cool!¡± Seamus¡¯s eyes sparkled with excitement.


    Having grown up with a wizard mother and a Muggle father, Seamus had fond memories of watching war movies with his dad. The sight of explosions had always fascinated him.


    What boy could resist the allure of blowing things up like a grenade launcher?


    But doubt crept in. Remembering his earlier failures, Seamus hesitated.


    ¡°Uh, Harry, can I really do this?¡± Seamus scratched his head nervously. ¡°I read that this is a sixth-year spell, and I¡¯m only a first-year¡­¡±


    ¡°Trust me,¡± Harry said, his green eyes full of encouragement. ¡°You can do it.¡±


    Touched, Seamus nodded vigorously and stepped closer to the dummy. He raised his wand.


    Suddenly, Harry had a sinking feeling of dread.


    Sure enough, Seamus shouted, ¡°Confringo!¡±


    A red light erupted from his wand, striking the dummy with an even louder explosion than Harry¡¯s.


    Harry barely had time to conjure a protective shield charm to shield himself.


    Hermione and Ron ducked instinctively, crouching in perfect unison.


    The dummy¡¯s shattered pieces flew through the air. One arm soared in an arc and landed with a smack¡ªright on Neville¡¯s head.


    ¡°Why is it always me?¡± Neville whimpered, clutching his head with tearful eyes.


    ----


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 Chapter 75: This Is No Ordinary Poacher, Time to Strike Hard!

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    After a unanimous vote in the Dueling Club, everyone collectively decided to ban Seamus from using explosive spells in the Room of Requirement.


    This guy was truly something else¡ªhe couldn¡¯t master most spells, yet when it came to explosive ones, he picked them up instantly...


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what would happen if you used one on someone, Seamus,¡± Ron said, his voice dry with unease.


    But Harry had noticed something important: Seamus¡¯s explosion spells, while loud and visually intimidating, lacked the raw power of those cast by adult wizards¡ªadult wizards, to be specific.


    Even so, for a first-year wizard, Seamus¡¯s level was top-notch.


    It was the kind of skill that would have impressed even Sebastian a century ago.


    Seamus, however, was quite regretful. All he could do now was practice Expelliarmus repeatedly, trying to turn his ¡°hand grenades¡± into ¡°wand grenades.¡±


    ¡°You guys are amazing...¡± Neville said enviously. ¡°I¡¯m so dumb. Even after Hermione¡¯s been teaching me for so long, I still can¡¯t get the hang of it.¡±


    ¡°Everyone has their own strengths, Neville,¡± Harry said encouragingly. ¡°I think you have a natural talent for Herbology. Look, remember that biting cabbage Professor Sprout gave me? You¡¯ve taken care of it so well that it even bit Quirrell on the forehead and wouldn¡¯t let go.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s just raising plants. It¡¯s no use in a duel,¡± Neville said dejectedly, squatting on the ground.


    ¡°Who says so, Neville?¡± Harry laughed, sitting down beside him. ¡°Magical plants can help in combat too. Just imagine throwing ten biting cabbages at your enemy during a fight¡ªtrust me, most wizards wouldn¡¯t escape unscathed.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Neville¡¯s eyes began to shine with hope.


    ¡°Of course! And biting cabbages aren¡¯t the only combat-capable magical plants,¡± Harry said. ¡°Look, there¡¯s also something called a mandrake¡ªHermione?¡±


    Catching Harry¡¯s cue, Hermione chimed in, ¡°The books say that when you pull a mandrake out of the ground, its humanoid roots emit an ear-piercing scream that can stun or even kill.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Harry said, smiling to reassure Neville. ¡°Imagine surprising your opponent in a battle with a screaming mandrake¡ªor better yet, recording its scream into a Howler!¡±


    As Harry spoke, Neville¡¯s eyes grew brighter and brighter.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Harry,¡± Neville said, his gaze firming up. ¡°I think I¡¯ll follow your advice. I really do like Herbology.¡±


    ¡°At the same time, don¡¯t neglect your spell practice,¡± Harry added, patting Neville on the shoulder. ¡°Spells are the foundation of every wizard¡¯s survival.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Buoyed by Harry¡¯s encouragement, Neville regained his motivation and resumed practicing spells. By the time Harry had to head to Hagrid¡¯s for his detention, Neville had barely managed to cast a Disarming Charm¡ªalbeit inconsistently.


    Still, Harry was satisfied with the progress. After all, Neville wasn¡¯t a natural talent.


    Before leaving, Harry handed Neville some seeds, entrusting him with the care and cultivation of the biting cabbages.


    When preparing for the Forbidden Forest, Harry retrieved Dawimer¡¯s wand from his belongings.


    Thanks to the existence of spell-tracing charms, using his own wand risked exposing the spells he cast.


    Carrying Dawimer¡¯s wand was a precaution. If he encountered danger in the Forbidden Forest, he could cast harmless little jinxes¡ªright?


    Tucking the wand securely into his robes, Harry left the Gryffindor common room.


    Ron and the others were waiting for him in the entrance hall. When he came down, Ron approached him and said, ¡°Harry, we¡¯ll walk you there.¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± Harry said. ¡°It¡¯s freezing outside. Go back and rest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s so late already¡ªyou really shouldn¡¯t go to the Forbidden Forest,¡± Neville muttered. ¡°My gran told me stories about it... there¡¯s all sorts of things in there, even werewolves...¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it! I¡¯m going to find Professor Dumbledore!¡± Hermione exclaimed, turning to head toward the stairs.


    Ron grabbed her arm. ¡°Dumbledore might not even be in his office, and even if he is, he might not listen to you. Besides, don¡¯t you remember? Harry defeated a troll! I¡¯d worry more about the werewolves than about Harry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank you, Ronald,¡± Hermione said sarcastically. ¡°Your best friend is heading into the Forbidden Forest, and you still have the nerve to joke!¡±


    ¡°Harry, Ron, Hermione?¡± Hagrid¡¯s voice boomed from outside the entrance. He ducked into the hall, towering over everyone. ¡°Oh, Seamus and Neville too, eh?¡±


    The five kids looked up. Hagrid, carrying a massive stone bow and a quiver full of arrows, cut an imposing figure, and his presence made them feel significantly safer.


    ¡°At least Hagrid¡¯s here,¡± Hermione whispered. She turned to Harry and said, ¡°We¡¯ll head back now, but you and Hagrid must be careful. If there¡¯s danger, run immediately.¡±


    ¡°Got it, Hermione,¡± Harry said with a smile. After bidding farewell to the others, he followed Hagrid out the door.


    ¡°Filch didn¡¯t want to come fetch you, so I did,¡± Hagrid said as they walked. ¡°That old codger... don¡¯t let him get to you. He¡¯s scared of you now. Always picking on the weak but backing down from the strong. But you know what? It¡¯s a good thing. Since You-Know-Who fell, Hogwarts has been cleaning up its act. A lot of old rules are gone, and Filch lost the power to punish students physically¡ªI heard Ron¡¯s dad, Arthur, still has scars from when the caretaker back in his day whipped him.¡±


    ¡°You know about that?¡± Harry asked, intrigued. He was aware Hogwarts caretakers once had that authority, but it seemed the current staff were more hesitant to enforce such measures on their generation.


    ¡°Molly mentions it often, usually to discipline her kids. Not that it works¡ªyou¡¯ve seen how Fred and George turned out,¡± Hagrid chuckled.


    Harry thought of the Weasley twins¡¯ antics and nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Yeah, no kidding.¡±


    ¡°All right, here we are,¡± Hagrid said, raising his lantern high at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He pointed to a winding path leading deeper into the dense woods. ¡°See those silvery stains on the ground? That¡¯s unicorn blood. A unicorn¡¯s been injured in the forest¡ªthis is the second one this week. Here, no one would harm such a sacred creature except a poacher. We need to find that poor unicorn and put it out of its misery.¡±


    Poachers?


    Harry¡¯s heart raced with excitement, his eyes gleaming.


    Anyone daring to harm a unicorn wasn¡¯t just an ordinary poacher¡ªthey needed to be dealt with decisively!


    He smiled innocently, the picture of harmlessness.


    ¡°Well then, why not find the poacher and put them out of their misery?¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 76: The Mars Tonight Burns Bright

    Hagrid looked down at Harry as though he had just heard the most absurd thing imaginable.


    "Find the poacher? Oh, Harry, that''s not something a first-year student like you should be worrying about."


    As he spoke, his shaggy head shook, and his beard quivered with each word.


    Harry noticed something peculiar¡ªthere were scorch marks on Hagrid''s beard.


    "Just a suggestion, Hagrid," Harry said, then asked with concern, "What happened to your beard?"


    "Oh, nothing." Hagrid waved it off with a hearty laugh, his expression softening. "Norbert burned it, that¡¯s all. No big deal."


    "Norbert? Who''s Norbert?" Harry''s curiosity was piqued.


    Could it be that Hagrid was keeping another magical creature in his hut?


    "Norbert is my Norwegian Ridge¡ª"


    Mid-sentence, Hagrid abruptly clapped a hand over his mouth.


    Having known Hagrid for a while, Harry had come to understand his nature.


    The big guy was like someone perpetually under the effects of Veritaserum, incapable of keeping secrets.


    Breathes fire, and it¡¯s Norwegian? Harry immediately connected the dots.


    "A Norwegian Ridgeback dragon, right?" He looked up at Hagrid.


    Hagrid nodded reluctantly, his unruly hair bouncing. Meeting Harry''s bright green eyes, he seemed to abandon the idea of denying it. "Yes, it¡¯s a Norwegian Ridgeback. She thinks I¡¯m her mum, sweet little thing, really clingy and affectionate."


    Clingy? Affectionate?


    Harry tried to reconcile those words with the image of a dragon but failed miserably.


    "Did you buy it?" he asked with interest. "You once mentioned your dream was to raise a dragon, but dragon eggs are pricey."


    "No, didn¡¯t buy it." Hagrid rubbed his nose. "Won it. Last month, I was in Hogsmeade having a drink and playing cards with a stranger. Truth be told, he probably wanted to get rid of it."


    "A dragon egg like that would fetch a fortune in Knockturn Alley. Why would he want to get rid of it?" Harry asked, his instincts telling him there was more to the story.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time something like this had happened. It was all too coincidental, just like how Hagrid had ended up with Fluffy, the three-headed dog.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "Maybe he..." Hagrid started, then stopped abruptly as if realizing something wasn¡¯t right.


    He looked down at Harry. "Wait a minute, Harry, how do you know about Knockturn Alley?"


    "Just something I heard," Harry deflected smoothly. "You should be careful, Hagrid. That person might have had ulterior motives."


    "Who knows." Hagrid shrugged, the massive crossbow he carried almost brushing against Fang at his feet.


    The thing looked more like a ballista than a bow.


    "Let¡¯s go, Hagrid," Harry said, showing no signs of fear. In fact, he seemed excited.


    The Forbidden Forest wasn¡¯t unfamiliar to him. He had often ventured there with Poppy Sweeting, Cassandra, or even Veratia. To Harry, entering the Forbidden Forest felt like returning home.


    Hagrid looked at the back of Harry¡¯s head, a question mark forming in his mind.


    Were first-years nowadays all this fearless? How could he face the dark and ominous forest with such calm, even excitement?


    "We¡¯re not here for fun, Harry!"


    Hagrid tried to set a serious tone. Harry¡¯s relaxed demeanor wasn¡¯t ideal for a trip to the Forbidden Forest, where complacency could lead to danger.


    "This is detention!" Hagrid reminded him sternly.


    "Got it, Hagrid," Harry replied with a grin.


    The Forbidden Forest at night was eerily quiet, with only the rustle of leaves stirred by the wind and the sound of trickling water breaking the silence.


    Clearly, there was a stream nearby.


    If Harry remembered correctly, that stream was home to a creature called the Grindylow, whose tongues were valuable for potion-making.


    Walking in silence grew dull quickly. Harry decided to strike up a conversation.


    "Hagrid, are there many magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest? Your hut is right on the edge, so I imagine you interact with them often."


    "Oh, plenty. Honestly, I get along well with them," Hagrid replied cheerfully. "The creatures here are lovely. If it weren¡¯t so late, I¡¯d introduce you to my old friend Aragog."


    "Aragog?" Harry repeated. The name sounded unwieldy and suspiciously arachnid.


    "Yes, I raised him when I was a student here," Hagrid said with a fond smile. "He was such a darling..."


    Hagrid¡¯s words trailed off as he suddenly became alert.


    He yanked Harry behind a nearby tree.


    Harry had also sensed something rapidly approaching. He pulled out the wand he had gotten from Darweymar but, mindful of Hagrid¡¯s presence, switched to his usual wand instead.


    Hagrid drew a massive feathered arrow from his quiver and nocked it on his oversized crossbow, aiming in the direction of the sound.


    "Who¡¯s there?" Hagrid bellowed. "Come out! Stop hiding¡ªI¡¯ve got you locked in my sights!"


    Fang barked ferociously at the source of the noise, darting back and forth at Hagrid¡¯s feet.


    The bushes rustled again. Just as Hagrid¡¯s patience was wearing thin, a voice emerged.


    "It¡¯s me, Hagrid¡ªRonan."


    Hagrid relaxed slightly but didn¡¯t lower his weapon.


    A moment later, out of the bushes stepped... a person? No, a horse?


    It was a centaur, red-haired and chestnut-bodied. The color of his horse half matched his hair, and his tail swished irritably behind him.


    "Oh, it¡¯s really you, Ronan," Hagrid said, finally lowering his weapon and stepping forward to shake hands with the centaur.


    Ronan didn¡¯t look pleased. With a sorrowful tone, he said, "Hagrid. It seems you were ready to shoot me with that bow of yours."


    "Can¡¯t be too careful, Ronan," Hagrid replied, patting his quiver. "There¡¯s a rogue prowling these woods. Oh, right¡ªthis is Harry Potter."


    He finally remembered Harry and introduced him to Ronan. "Harry, this is Ronan, as you can see, a centaur."


    Harry wasn¡¯t particularly surprised. Centaurs weren¡¯t new to him.


    On his adventures with Veratia in the Forbidden Forest, he¡¯d encountered centaurs mistaking them for poachers.


    "Good evening," Ronan said, though his greeting was perfunctory.


    He gazed skyward, his expression grave.


    "The Mars tonight... it burns brightly," he murmured.


    ----


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 Chapter 77: A Pain Like Drilling into the Bone

    ¡°Blinding?¡±


    Hagrid and Harry both tilted their heads back, scanning the sky for Mars.


    As Ronan had mentioned, it wasn¡¯t difficult to find¡ªa star so unnaturally bright it dominated the heavens.


    ¡°It really is glaring,¡± Hagrid remarked, squinting at the celestial body before turning back to the centaur. ¡°Have you seen anything strange around here lately? A unicorn¡¯s been injured¡ªdo you know anything about it?¡±


    Ronan didn¡¯t respond directly. Instead, he spoke in the same enigmatic tone: ¡°Mars is particularly bright tonight.¡±


    Hagrid sighed heavily, giving Harry¡¯s shoulder a gentle pat. ¡°See what I mean? That¡¯s centaurs for you. Never give a straight answer¡ªalways got their eyes on the stars. Frustrating, isn¡¯t it? You ask about a unicorn, and they¡¯ll talk about Mars instead. They never just say what they mean¡­¡±


    Riddlers, huh?


    Harry hadn¡¯t spent much time conversing with centaurs; his interactions with them had been more... combative. He could still hear the echoes of their anguished screams from before.


    There had been a time when he¡¯d wondered if Veratia might¡¯ve taken things too far. But now?


    They deserved it.


    This is the punishment riddlers earn!


    ¡°Still, their hearts are in the right place,¡± Hagrid continued, a faint chuckle in his voice. ¡°They may not be straightforward, but they care about this forest and all its creatures. Anyway, let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    Leaving Ronan behind, who remained fixated on the stars, they continued their search.


    ¡°They remind me of Professor Dumbledore,¡± Harry remarked, nudging a branch out of his way with his foot. ¡°Always speaking in riddles, never saying things outright.¡±


    ¡°Now that you mention it¡­¡± Hagrid nodded thoughtfully, scanning the forest floor. ¡°Look here¡ªunicorn blood, all over the ground. Even on the roots of the trees.¡±


    They pressed forward until they came to a fork in the path.


    Both trails were marked with fresh blood¡ªstreaks and glistening pools suggesting the unicorn hadn¡¯t gone far.


    ¡°We should split up, Hagrid,¡± Harry suggested, his tone firm. ¡°It¡¯s badly injured; if we hurry, we might still save it.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Hagrid hesitated, torn between his desire to protect Harry and the urgency of finding the unicorn.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± Harry reassured him. ¡°If anything happens, I¡¯ll send up red sparks.¡±


    Reluctantly, Hagrid nodded. ¡°Alright. But take Fang with you. He may be a coward, but his instincts are sharp.¡±


    Harry glanced down at the massive boarhound, skepticism plain on his face. You think it¡¯s like Fiona, our phoenix? That it¡¯ll throw itself in front of a Killing Curse for me?


    Still, he nodded. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll bring Fang.¡±


    ¡°Be careful,¡± Hagrid urged, gripping his crossbow tightly as he headed down one path. Halfway, he turned back, his brow furrowed with concern. ¡°You¡¯re sure about this? We could stick together.¡±


    ¡°The unicorn doesn¡¯t have much time,¡± Harry replied resolutely.


    Once Hagrid disappeared, Harry tucked his wand back into his robes, pulling out the one he had confiscated earlier.


    With Fang reluctantly in tow, he followed the blood trail deeper into the forest.


    The farther he went, the denser the trees became. Their gnarled branches wove together, blocking out most of the moonlight. The path narrowed, barely navigable.


    The bloodstains grew sparser but more concentrated, pooling in silvery patches on the ground.


    Fang whined nervously, pacing around Harry¡¯s feet and tugging at his robes, as if pleading with him to turn back.


    Harry ignored the dog, his focus unwavering.


    Ahead, the trees gave way to a clearing, their ancient branches twisted into a canopy of shadows.


    A soft, mournful whinny pierced the stillness.


    Pushing through the last of the branches, Harry saw it¡ªa radiant white unicorn, collapsed on the ground. Its coat, once pristine, was now stained with blood, and its eyes shimmered with a desperate plea for salvation.


    Harry approached cautiously, keeping an eye on his surroundings. Fang¡¯s incessant whining was grating.


    ¡°Stupefy.¡±


    The stunning spell silenced the dog, leaving it unconscious in a heap.


    As the spell echoed through the forest, a rustling sound came from nearby bushes.


    Harry froze, his wand aimed at the disturbance.


    A moment later, a hooded figure emerged, moving with a serpentine grace that exuded menace.


    It slithered toward the unicorn, its every movement deliberate, radiating an aura of malevolence.


    Reaching the dying creature, the figure bent low, its hood obscuring its face, and began to drink deeply from the unicorn¡¯s wound.


    The unicorn let out a heart-wrenching cry, its body convulsing in agony.


    Pain exploded in Harry¡¯s scar, searing and relentless, as if a brand had been pressed against his forehead. The last time it had hurt this much was when Sebastian had cast the Killing Curse.


    Clenching his jaw against the pain, Harry raised his wand.


    ¡°Stupefy!¡±


    A jet of red light shot forward, striking the hooded figure and knocking it aside.


    The unicorn¡¯s labored breaths quickened, a faint glimmer of hope returning to its eyes.


    Harry advanced cautiously, his wand trained on the motionless figure.


    But it wasn¡¯t over.


    The figure rose slowly, its silhouette dark and foreboding, like Death itself. Had it held a scythe, the image would have been complete.


    Harry¡¯s scar throbbed violently, his vision blurring as his grip on the wand faltered.


    The figure surged forward, a blur of shadow and malice.


    A sudden voice¡ªethereal and faint, yet urgent¡ªrang in Harry¡¯s mind: ¡°Run!¡±


    Ignoring the pain, Harry raised his wand again, his rage overtaking him.


    ¡°Crucio!¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 78: An Old Friend

    A curse shot from the tip of Harry''s wand, its distinct crimson glow of the Cruciatus Curse staining the surrounding forest with a sinister hue.


    The dark-robed figure closest to him failed to dodge in time and was struck directly by the curse.


    A piercing scream erupted, an inhuman wail akin to nails scraping against glass, sharp enough to make Harry¡¯s teeth ache.


    The figure, which had been diving toward Harry moments before, now flailed like a broken kite, tumbling rapidly out of sight into the dense forest.


    The pain in Harry¡¯s scar had vanished¡ªor perhaps, he had channeled it into the figure through the excruciating spell.


    He panted heavily. That sensation was far from pleasant. If it weren¡¯t for the near-unbearable agony that had disrupted his focus, he might not have resorted to using the Unforgivable Curse. A simpler, less cruel spell might have sufficed.


    "Harry¡­ Harry? Is that you?"


    A faint, ethereal voice echoed near Harry¡¯s ear.


    "Who¡¯s there?" Harry jerked his head up, quickly pulling a vial of Invigoration Draught from his pocket. Popping the cork with his thumb, he drained it in one gulp.


    Warmth spread from his throat to his limbs, and his energy was restored.


    Using an Unforgivable Curse carried side effects, though Harry seemed to endure them far better than most. No soul-wrenching agony, no tumultuous flood of negative emotions¡ªjust a lingering sense of fatigue.


    "Harry, I¡¯m right here."


    Following the voice, Harry¡¯s gaze landed on a unicorn lying on the ground.


    She was stunning. Even with her slender legs curled in pain, her beauty was undiminished. Her mane, white as pearls, fanned out against the blackened tree roots.


    "You¡­ you can talk?" Harry frowned. "You¡¯re a unicorn?"


    He stepped closer, retrieving two vials of Invigoration Draught from his pocket. Uncorking them, he carefully poured the contents into her mouth.


    Then, tucking the wand he¡¯d picked up from Dawimar back into his robes, he drew his own wand and pointed it at the unicorn¡¯s wound, where silvery blood continued to flow.


    "Episkey!"


    But nothing happened. The jagged wound showed no sign of healing. Blood still trickled down her pristine fur, pooling on the ground.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Harry, that won¡¯t work," the unicorn said softly, coughing twice. Her gaze held a tender warmth.


    "If Veratia saw you using the Cruciatus Curse again, she¡¯d be furious."


    Harry shot to his feet, disbelief written all over his face. "You¡ªwho are you?"


    He didn¡¯t recall ever befriending a unicorn. Heaven knows, these creatures seemed to have a bias against boys¡ªthey avoided him and Ominis but were always friendly with Veratia, Cassandra, and Poppy.


    Could this unicorn have once been one of their friends?


    "You¡¯d be better off giving me a Blood-Replenishing Potion," the unicorn suggested.


    Harry quickly rummaged through his pocket, pulling out two potions he¡¯d bought from an apothecary. He hesitated, then put them back, opting instead for two he had taken from Professor Snape¡ªmeticulously brewed by the Potions Master himself.


    Only potions crafted by a master could offer optimal healing.


    Whether this unicorn was a friend of Veratia and the others or a stranger, Harry couldn¡¯t stand by and watch her life fade away.


    After drinking the potions, the unicorn¡¯s eyes regained some of their sparkle. Though the wound still bled, it no longer poured as profusely as before.


    "It¡¯s a vicious curse," the unicorn said. "The one who cast it¡­ they carried an overwhelming aura of dark magic. I don¡¯t know who they were, but they were as terrifying and powerful as Victor Rookwood."


    Guided by her words, Harry examined the wound and discovered the lingering traces of a dark magic curse.


    He raised his wand again and began chanting the purification spell Veratia had invented.


    "Purusor!"


    The spell worked, slowly dispelling the curse on the wound.


    Harry felt a surge of hope and continued casting the spell, carefully purging the curse.


    But when the curse¡¯s remnants reached a certain threshold, they stubbornly refused to dissipate, clinging tenaciously to the wound.


    "This spell won¡¯t suffice," the unicorn murmured. "Unless the fifteen-year-old you¡ªor Veratia¡ªcasts it, it can¡¯t be undone."


    Harry suddenly remembered there was something else he hadn¡¯t asked the unicorn.


    "How do you know who I am? Have we met before?"


    "Of course we¡¯ve met, Harry," the unicorn said, a sly glint in her bright eyes. "We¡¯ve known each other for over a century¡­ Oh, congratulations, by the way, on making it back to your own time."


    With that, she mustered her strength and stood.


    Circling Harry twice, she nudged his robes with her nose, her expression almost humanlike in its warmth.


    "My, I didn¡¯t notice earlier¡ªyou¡¯re back to being a child again. If I recall correctly, this must be right around the time of your Sorting, isn¡¯t it?"


    "Yes," Harry scratched his head. "I don¡¯t know how I returned a hundred years into the future, and as an eleven-year-old, but¡­ well, here I am."


    "After you disappeared, the Order of the Phoenix all but fell apart," the unicorn said softly, her voice heavy with regret. "Veratia stopped attending classes altogether. She said she was going to look for you¡­ Many believed you were dead, even Headmaster Black urged her to accept it. But she thanked everyone for their concern and vanished. No one has seen her since."


    Harry¡¯s heart sank.


    Could it be¡­


    Could Veratia truly be trapped somewhere?


    Perhaps caught in the chaos of time itself?


    Otherwise, why hadn¡¯t she appeared to find him yet?


    "What about Sebastian and Ominis?" Harry asked, his voice unsteady.


    "Those two¡­" The unicorn thought for a moment before shaking her head. "The last I heard of them was in their seventh year. After that, there¡¯s been no news."


    Harry¡¯s thoughts were a chaotic mess. Where had Sebastian and Ominis gone? Could they have been imprisoned in Azkaban because of Solomon¡¯s case?


    "Aren¡¯t you curious about anyone else?" The unicorn lowered her neck, tilting her head to look at Harry. "Like¡­ Cassandra?"


    ----


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 Chapter 79: The Magical Animagus

    ¡°Cassandra?¡±


    Harry paused for a moment when he heard the name.


    He shook his head, chuckling self-deprecatingly. ¡°No, I¡¯ve read her letters. She should¡¯ve been long gone by now¡­¡±


    The unicorn let out a low hum and shook its head. ¡°No, that¡¯s unlikely¡­ But apart from Cassandra, isn¡¯t there anyone else you¡¯d like to ask about?¡±


    As it spoke, it grabbed Harry¡¯s robes with its mouth, tugging them back and forth playfully.


    ¡°Ha-rry! Ha-rry!¡±


    A sudden realization dawned on Harry.


    I knew it! No wonder this unicorn lady felt so familiar!


    I knew it! No wonder she knows so much!


    The familiar gesture and tone instantly reminded him of an old friend.


    Hufflepuff¡¯s Poppy Sweeting!


    Harry gasped, covering his mouth in shock, his trembling hand pointing at the unicorn. ¡°Y-you¡­ you¡¯re Poppy?¡±


    ¡°Took you long enough to figure it out!¡±


    The unicorn¡ªno, Poppy in unicorn form¡ªretracted her horn and began nuzzling her head against Harry¡¯s chest, as if venting her frustration at not being recognized by her old friend.


    ¡°But, how¡­ how did you end up like this?¡± Harry still found it hard to believe.


    Poppy had always been human. How could she now be a unicorn?


    ¡°Animagus,¡± Poppy replied. ¡°Becoming a magical Animagus has its price¡­ but honestly, I don¡¯t mind. This way, I can interact with magical creatures up close and play with them as much as I want¡­ It¡¯s quite wonderful, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Is it¡­ really?¡± Harry didn¡¯t quite understand this mindset. Back then, Poppy had always been like this¡ªadoring magical creatures, even helping him and Veratia rescue a dragon from poachers.


    The Room of Requirement¡¯s magical creature sanctuary had been established under Poppy¡¯s suggestion.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Poppy said, grabbing Harry¡¯s robes with her mouth again, tugging playfully. ¡°Ha-rry! Ha-rry!¡±


    Just like the little girl who used to pull at his robes all the time.


    ¡°But¡­ are you sure your injury isn¡¯t serious?¡± Harry asked hesitantly, glancing at Poppy¡¯s wound. ¡°It¡¯s still bleeding. Maybe¡­ I could fetch Professor Dumbledore? He¡¯s the greatest white wizard of our time; surely, he could lift the curse on your wound. Or maybe Professor Snape? He¡¯s an exceptional Potions Master, and the Blood-Replenishing Potion you just took was brewed by him.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°He seems much more competent than Professor Sharp, don¡¯t you think?¡± Poppy quipped with a smile, before leaning in closer and whispering conspiratorially. ¡°By the way, do you still have any Weasleys this year? If I remember correctly, the Potions professors always seem to have it out for them¡­¡±


    ¡°There are five brothers in total, all in Gryffindor,¡± Harry remarked wryly. ¡°The relationship between Snape and them? Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s far from harmonious¡ªmore like sworn enemies.¡±


    Poppy giggled, her laughter light and tinkling. Then she added, ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s keep my little secret under wraps when we get back to Hogwarts, alright? You know, magical Animagi are rare, especially unicorn Animagi.¡±


    ¡°But what about your curse?¡± Harry scratched his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s where you come in,¡± Poppy said, nuzzling her head against Harry¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯re the heir to ancient magic. Maybe once you fully regain your powers, you can help me¡­¡±


    ¡°I will, Poppy. I promise,¡± Harry nodded firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll help you as soon as I can.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Poppy replied, tugging at Harry¡¯s robes again.


    ¡°Every night, I¡¯ll bring Blood-Replenishing Potion to the edge of the Forbidden Forest,¡± Harry promised. ¡°It¡¯s not good for your wound to remain unhealed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± Poppy said.


    Suddenly, she lifted her head and warned, ¡°Be careful. Someone¡¯s coming!¡±


    Harry swiftly drew his wand and traced an R in the air.


    ¡°Revelio!¡±


    With the aid of the Revelio Charm¡ªco-developed by him and Veratia¡ªhe could see a tall, blue figure moving toward them from the bushes.


    The spell revealed creatures within its range, with blue signifying friendliness and red hostility.


    ¡°It¡¯s Hagrid,¡± Harry said, lowering his wand. ¡°He¡¯s a friend.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Poppy replied with a nod.


    Sure enough, a rustling sound came from the bushes, and Hagrid¡¯s massive form emerged.


    ¡°Harry!¡± Hagrid lowered his crossbow and thumped his chest in relief. ¡°Thank heavens you¡¯re alright¡ªoh, Miss Poppy, good evening¡­ Are you hurt?¡±


    ¡°Good evening, Hagrid,¡± Poppy¡¯s ethereal voice returned. She gave Harry a meaningful glance before replying, ¡°Thanks to this young man, I was spared from being killed by a dark wizard.¡±


    ¡°A dark wizard?¡± Hagrid raised his crossbow again, scanning their surroundings.


    ¡°He¡¯s gone, Hagrid,¡± Harry said, tugging at his arm. ¡°I drove him off.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Hagrid beamed at Harry. ¡°I knew it! You¡¯re just as brave as your parents were, Harry. For someone your age to face a dark wizard¡ªit¡¯s no small feat, let alone defeating one!¡±


    Poppy said nothing, though her eyes glimmered with amusement.


    Oh, Hagrid, if only you knew how many dark wizards this ¡°little Harry¡± has defeated¡­


    ¡°By the way, Miss Poppy, is your injury alright?¡± Hagrid asked again. ¡°Perhaps we could visit Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing?¡±


    ¡°No need, Hagrid. Thank you,¡± Poppy replied softly. ¡°It¡¯s getting late, and I should be going. Harry, don¡¯t forget our agreement.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Miss Poppy,¡± Harry nodded.


    Poppy shook her head fondly, nuzzling Harry¡¯s face one last time before turning to leave.


    ¡°Goodness¡­¡± Hagrid wiped a tear from his eye, clearly moved. ¡°I thought unicorns only bonded with the purest of young maidens, but it seems they like boys too¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, I have a pretty pure heart too, Hagrid,¡± Harry said, patting Hagrid¡¯s arm. ¡°Just like you. Otherwise, Poppy wouldn¡¯t be your friend, right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Harry¡­¡±


    Hagrid ruffled Harry¡¯s messy hair, a warm smile spreading across his face.


    This kid¡­


    He always knows just what to say to warm your heart.


    ----


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 Chapter 80: Her

    ¡°Let¡¯s head back.¡±


    Hagrid slung the crossbow over his shoulder and said to Harry, ¡°It¡¯s getting late, and you¡¯ve got class tomorrow¡ªif I¡¯m not mistaken, it¡¯s Professor Snape¡¯s Potions class first thing in the morning. You wouldn¡¯t want to be late for that, would you?¡±


    Even Hagrid had heard of Professor Snape¡¯s formidable reputation at Hogwarts.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Harry replied, following Hagrid as they made their way out of the Forbidden Forest.


    Before long, they encountered a centaur.


    Harry noticed that this centaur was strikingly handsome, with platinum blonde hair reminiscent of Draco¡¯s and a sleek, silver equine body. He looked every bit the white knight from countless fairytales.


    ¡°Hagrid,¡± the centaur approached them anxiously. ¡°The unicorn¡ªhow is she? And the dark wizard?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Firenze,¡± Hagrid said, patting Harry on the shoulder. ¡°Miss Poppy is alright. Harry saved her, and the dark wizard was driven off¡­ although Miss Poppy still has some injuries.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear¡­¡± Firenze exhaled in relief, then turned to Harry with a warm smile.


    ¡°Harry, is it? Thank you. Thank you for saving Miss Poppy.¡±


    ¡°I only did what I should,¡± Harry said modestly.


    ¡°You¡¯re the boy from the Potter family, aren¡¯t you?¡± Firenze asked, his sapphire-blue eyes sparkling.


    Before Harry could answer, another voice interrupted.


    ¡°What are you telling him!¡±


    Bane galloped over, his tone furious. ¡°Remember, Firenze, we swore never to defy the heavens! Have you forgotten what the movement of the planets foretells?¡±


    ¡°I believe Firenze acted out of goodwill,¡± Ronan said uneasily, pawing at the ground with his hooves. His mournful voice carried a sense of foreboding.


    ¡°Goodwill?¡± Bane snapped, glaring at Ronan. ¡°What does that have to do with us? Centaurs concern themselves with the prophecies of the stars! We don¡¯t need to act like donkeys, running after lost humans in our forest!¡±


    ¡°Miss Poppy was injured! She¡¯s so kind! And that dark wizard¡­ that dark wizard dared to attack her! Tell me, Bane,¡± Firenze suddenly reared up on his hind legs, ¡°when you were surrounded by Acromantulas as a foal, who saved you?¡±


    ¡°The secrets of the stars? Is that all you care about?¡± Firenze¡¯s voice quivered with rage, his hair lifting as if charged with electricity. ¡°I will resist that person with all my might! I will not let him harm Miss Poppy again! Bane, centaurs are not an ungrateful race! If necessary, I will stand with the humans!¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Without sparing Bane or Ronan another glance, Firenze turned and signaled for Hagrid and Harry to follow him.


    ¡°Why was Bane so angry?¡± Harry asked, confused.


    Firenze sighed, avoiding the question. Instead, he asked, ¡°Harry, can you tell me what happened?¡±


    Harry left out the excruciating details and his conversation with Miss Poppy, recounting only the first part of the events.


    ¡°Harry¡­¡± Firenze suddenly stopped.


    Hagrid and Harry, unsure of his intentions, halted as well.


    ¡°Do you know what unicorn blood can do?¡± Firenze asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Harry answered truthfully.


    ¡°That¡¯s because harming or killing a unicorn is a monstrous act,¡± Firenze said gravely. ¡°Only someone utterly desperate, someone willing to lose everything to gain everything, would commit such an unforgivable sin. Unicorn blood can sustain life, even when one is on the brink of death. But the price is terrible. By taking the life of such a pure, innocent creature, the moment its blood touches your lips, your existence becomes cursed. You will live a half-life, a cursed life.¡±


    Harry thought for a moment and said, ¡°If I had to live cursed forever, I think I¡¯d rather die.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Firenze agreed. ¡°Unless¡­ you only use it to extend your life long enough to obtain something else¡ªsomething that can fully restore your strength and power, something that grants immortality. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in this school right now?¡±


    In an instant, Harry realized the shadow¡¯s target.


    ¡°The Philosopher¡¯s Stone!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°Are you saying¡­ the one trying to steal the stone is¡­¡±


    His heart pounded in his chest as he neared the truth.


    Some said that person was dead¡ªdefeated by him when he was just a baby. But could such a powerful dark wizard truly die so easily?


    Firenze¡¯s words made Harry¡¯s breathing quicken.


    It seemed there could only be one truth.


    The taste of revenge¡­ is it sweet?


    ¡°It appears you¡¯ve realized it,¡± Firenze said. ¡°Someone has waited in the shadows all these years, longing to rise again. Someone clings desperately to life, waiting for their chance.¡±


    Firenze seemed pleased with Harry¡¯s quick comprehension.


    This child¡­ perhaps he should study divination, Firenze thought.


    ¡°Impossible!¡± Hagrid interjected. ¡°The Philosopher¡¯s Stone is protected by Professor Dumbledore. As long as he¡¯s here at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord won¡¯t succeed!¡±


    Firenze didn¡¯t respond. He merely gave Hagrid a look of ineffable complexity.


    ¡°The stars¡­ they have foretold it,¡± Firenze murmured to Harry. ¡°Trust in centaur astrology. We rarely err.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re wrong this time!¡± Hagrid grumbled, clearly displeased with Firenze¡¯s perceived slight against Dumbledore.


    Soon, the edge of the Forbidden Forest came into view.


    ¡°Well then, we part ways here,¡± Firenze said to them.


    Hagrid waved at Firenze. ¡°Goodbye. Thanks for the warning¡ªthough I¡¯ll still talk to Professor Dumbledore.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Harry. We¡¯ll head back together,¡± Hagrid said, glancing up at the sky. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s about to rain. Let¡¯s get back to the castle.¡±


    As Harry and Hagrid entered the castle, a spring thunderclap echoed across the sky.


    In the dense forest, a pristine unicorn flitted through the trees, as graceful as a woodland spirit.


    The rain fell softly, passing through the thick canopy and landing on her white coat.


    She reached a stream, lying down gently beneath an evergreen pine tree, seeking shelter.


    The cold wind swept through the forest, mingling with the sound of rain, and the occasional cries of animals added a note of melancholy to the scene.


    A pale white light shimmered over the unicorn. In a moment, she transformed into a young girl wearing a Hufflepuff robe, her short hair falling lightly over her shoulders.


    But her body was translucent.


    Poppy leaned against the pine tree, sitting weakly on the ground. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob quietly.


    Silvery ghostly tears slipped through her fingers, falling onto the dark soil below.


    ----


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 Chapter 81: Surely We Cant Expect First-Years to Protect the Philosophers Stone?

    The first class on the second morning was Professor Snape¡¯s Potions class.


    Still groggy, Harry felt someone nudging him.


    ¡°Wake up, Harry.¡±


    It was Seamus¡¯s voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s Snape¡¯s class today. You don¡¯t want to get sprayed by his venom, do you?¡±


    That was Ron¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Venom?¡± Harry rubbed his eyes.


    ¡°Oh, I mean Snape,¡± Ron explained helpfully. ¡°Fred and George say he looks like a bat in his long black robes.¡±


    Harry couldn¡¯t help it¡ªhe laughed.


    ***


    At breakfast, Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered, ¡°So, Harry, how was last night in the Forbidden Forest?¡±


    ¡°It was alright,¡± Harry shrugged, spreading baked beans on a slice of bread, then adding sausage and bacon. ¡°The forest is dangerous, sure, but I made a new friend in there. After lunch, I¡¯ll introduce you.¡±


    ¡°A new friend?¡± Ron perked up. ¡°She? Is it... a centaur?¡±


    ¡°No, a unicorn,¡± Harry said with a mysterious smile.


    ¡°Cool...¡± Hermione, intrigued, leaned in. ¡°How did you meet? I mean, I¡¯ve read that unicorns generally only trust pure-hearted women. I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d befriend a boy.¡±


    ¡°Well, a dark wizard attacked her, and I just happened to pass by and saved her,¡± Harry said matter-of-factly.


    ¡°And how did you defeat a dark wizard?¡± Neville asked curiously.


    ¡°I hit him with a harmless little jinx,¡± Harry replied, taking a bite of his bread.


    The tangy baked beans, combined with the distinct flavor of sausage and smoky bacon, made Harry feel a bit more alive after a night of emptiness in his stomach.


    ¡°What kind of jinx?¡± Hermione, ever-alert, narrowed her eyes.


    ¡°Oh, nothing major...¡± Harry hesitated.


    Hermione¡¯s expression turned serious. ¡°You didn¡¯t... oh no, Harry, you didn¡¯t actually use¡ª¡± Her voice faltered as if she couldn¡¯t finish.


    ¡°Well, alright,¡± she conceded after a moment. ¡°In a life-threatening situation, I suppose experimenting with spells isn¡¯t entirely unreasonable. But... no one saw, right?¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°No,¡± Harry said. But then he suddenly remembered Fang.


    Oh no. When leaving with Hagrid last night, he¡¯d forgotten to bring along the unconscious Fang, who¡¯d been hit by a Stunning Spell.


    I hope he¡¯s alright, Harry thought, layering scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, a slice of tomato, and cheese onto a piece of toast to make himself a satisfying sandwich.


    --


    Hermione frowned, bringing the conversation back. ¡°But why would a dark wizard attack a unicorn? Unicorns are sacred and noble creatures. It¡¯s an unforgivable act under any circumstances.¡±


    ¡°For their blood,¡± Harry said simply. ¡°A centaur named Firenze told me that dark wizard was using unicorn blood to prolong his miserable life, just until he could get the Philosopher¡¯s Stone to restore his power fully.¡±


    ¡°That explains it,¡± Hermione muttered. After thinking for a moment, she asked, ¡°But here¡¯s the real question: the Philosopher¡¯s Stone is at Hogwarts. Who would dare steal it under Dumbledore¡¯s nose?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s someone who¡¯s been hiding in the shadows for years, desperate to return to power,¡± Harry replied, finishing his sandwich in three quick bites. ¡°Who else could it be?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Ron asked, sipping his pumpkin juice.


    ¡°Voldemort,¡± Hermione whispered.


    At the mention of the name, Ron¡¯s hand slipped, and his pumpkin juice tumbled onto the table. Fortunately, the sturdy glass didn¡¯t break, and most of the juice had already been drunk, sparing him from a mess.


    Seamus gasped sharply, whether from the name or the revelation about Voldemort, while Neville went completely pale.


    Among the five of them, only Hermione and Harry seemed unaffected by the name.


    For Hermione, it was because she didn¡¯t fully grasp the terror Voldemort had once inspired. Harry, on the other hand, simply didn¡¯t see why Voldemort was worth fearing.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be true!¡± Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet. His sudden movement drew the attention of the entire Great Hall, and he quickly sat back down, lowering his voice. ¡°It¡¯s impossible! Dumbledore¡¯s at Hogwarts¡ªVoldemort wouldn¡¯t dare!¡±


    ¡°What if Dumbledore isn¡¯t at the school?¡± Hermione retorted. ¡°The headmaster can¡¯t be here all the time. If he leaves, that¡¯s the perfect chance for Voldemort to strike! We have to warn Dumbledore!¡±


    ¡°Relax, Hermione,¡± Harry said absentmindedly. ¡°Hagrid went to Dumbledore¡¯s office last night to tell him everything.¡±


    With that assurance, Hermione dropped the matter, though she still frowned.


    Surely Dumbledore would take the necessary precautions.


    After all, they couldn¡¯t possibly expect first-year students to protect the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, could they?


    --


    Potions class passed as usual under Professor Snape¡¯s venomous gaze and sharp tongue. Even Hermione wasn¡¯t spared this time¡ªher distracted mind led her to accidentally add half an ounce too much bat liver.


    When Harry managed to brew a perfect batch of Swelling Solution, Snape grudgingly added one point to Gryffindor.


    But then, he promptly deducted five points because Neville burned his cauldron.


    The Gryffindors were unfazed¡ªlosing points under Snape¡¯s watch was practically a tradition.


    Still, it didn¡¯t stop Slytherin from being dead last in the House Cup race¡ªmainly because Snape himself had docked 150 points from his own house earlier that term.


    ***


    After class, Harry told Ron and the others to wait outside.


    He needed a Blood-Replenishing Potion, and while he¡¯d bought some in Diagon Alley before, it was no match for something brewed by a potions master like Snape.


    Fang deserved the best.


    Snape noticed Harry lingering behind and smirked, his lips curling in that greasy, mocking way of his.


    ¡°Is there something you need, Potter?¡± he drawled. ¡°Or has the great Savior of the Wizarding World come to consult his poor, old professor about some adolescent issue?


    ----


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 Chapter 82: Professor Snape Is Surprisingly Easygoing

    ¡°Here¡¯s the thing, Professor,¡± Harry tried to phrase his words carefully, avoiding offense. ¡°I have a friend who¡¯s injured¡ªquite seriously¡ªand I need some Blood-Replenishing Potion...¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve decided to treat your poor old professor like a shop assistant at Pippin¡¯s Potions? Or worse, turn his office into Madam Pomfrey¡¯s hospital wing?¡± Snape asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.


    ¡°Well, it just so happens that among the people I know, you¡¯re the only Potions Master, so...¡± Harry looked up, gazing earnestly at Snape without blinking.


    Snape stared into Harry¡¯s eyes expressionlessly for what felt like an eternity before letting out a cold snort and turning to walk toward his cabinet.


    Just when Harry thought his request had been flatly rejected, Snape returned, holding six bottles of potion in his hand.


    ¡°Even if your injured friend were a troll, these would suffice¡ª¡±


    Snape paused, a faint smirk appearing on his lips as his tone shifted.


    ¡°Apologies, Mr. Potter. I forgot you do indeed have some dimwitted troll-like friends.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Professor!¡± Harry eagerly took the potions, bowing deeply, his gratitude genuine.


    After Snape curtly dismissed him, Harry made a hasty but respectful exit from the classroom.


    ¡°Merlin¡¯s beard, you dared linger in the Potions classroom!¡± Ron exclaimed in an exaggerated tone. ¡°I¡¯d bet anything that if Neville had to spend thirty seconds alone with Snape, he¡¯d have wet his pants by now¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right, Ron,¡± Neville admitted, unfazed by the comment. In fact, he thought Ron had greatly overestimated him.


    Neville figured ten seconds would¡¯ve been more than enough.


    ¡°So, what exactly did you say to Professor Snape?¡± Seamus asked curiously.


    Harry glanced back to ensure the Potions classroom door remained firmly shut. Then, like a clandestine dealer, he opened his robe, revealing the Blood-Replenishing Potions hidden in an inner pocket.


    ¡°Whoa!¡± Ron¡¯s eyes widened as he pointed a trembling finger at the potions. ¡°Merlin¡¯s pants! Did you rob Snape¡¯s cabinet?¡±


    ¡°Nope. The professor gave them to me,¡± Harry said cheerfully, tucking his robe back in place.


    ¡°Merlin, Harry, you¡¯re... you¡¯re...¡± Seamus fumbled for words, unable to find one that did justice to his awe.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Ron and Neville stared at Harry as though he were a living legend. They¡¯d always known he was extraordinary, but this¡ªmanaging to get six potions from the Slytherin Head of House as a Gryffindor student¡ªwas a feat beyond belief.


    If someone claimed Harry had defeated a Dark wizard or even Voldemort, they wouldn¡¯t bat an eye; after all, Harry had already taken down the most powerful Dark wizard at the tender age of one. But to walk away from Snape¡¯s office with potions, unscathed and unpaid? That was the stuff of legends.


    ¡°Harry, your name deserves a place in Gryffindor¡¯s history!¡± Ron declared, clapping Harry on the shoulder. ¡°No, scratch that¡ªeven Hogwarts: A History should record the glorious tale of how you bested the old Slytherin bat...¡±


    ¡°Mr. Weasley?¡±


    The greasy voice sent chills down their spines.


    Ron snapped to attention, slowly turning to meet Snape¡¯s piercing black eyes.


    ¡°Ten points from Gryffindor for speaking ill of a professor behind his back,¡± Snape said, sweeping past them like a bat, his robes billowing as he disappeared down the corridor.


    ¡°You never know when he¡¯ll just pop up, do you?¡± Ron muttered, still shaken.


    After lunch, Harry packed some food, including sausages and bacon, and headed to the edge of the Forbidden Forest with his four friends.


    Poppy, the unicorn, was already waiting at their usual meeting spot. Upon seeing Harry, she trotted up and tugged at his robes playfully.


    ¡°Alright, alright, Poppy,¡± Harry said, stroking her ears as he pulled out one of the potions and offered it to her.


    Poppy took the bottle gently, tilted her head back, and drank it all in one go.


    Blood-Replenishing Potion wasn¡¯t exactly pleasant-tasting; Snape hadn¡¯t made it with flavor in mind, but efficacy.


    ¡°This should last you a week, Harry,¡± Poppy said softly. ¡°There¡¯s no need to use it daily.¡±


    ¡°This was a gift from Professor Snape. He¡¯s actually quite easy to talk to, Poppy,¡± Harry said with a grin.


    Behind him, his four friends gasped audibly.


    ¡°Harry?!¡± Neville¡¯s voice was filled with disbelief. ¡°Did you just say... Professor Snape is easy to talk to? Merlin, either the world¡¯s gone mad, or I have¡ªfor hearing such words.¡±


    The others nodded vigorously in agreement. Neville had spoken their collective disbelief perfectly.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to introduce your little friends?¡± Poppy asked, her gaze shifting to the group behind Harry.


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Harry said, realizing his lapse. He pulled Ron forward. ¡°This is Ron Weasley, a fine lad from the Weasley family¡ªover there, the sturdier one is Neville Longbottom, the one missing a chunk of his eyebrow is Seamus Finnigan, and this is Hermione Granger, the most Ravenclaw-like Gryffindor.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± Poppy greeted them, her voice light and musical. ¡°I¡¯m Poppy, Harry¡¯s good friend.¡±


    ¡°Merlin¡¯s beard, are you really a unicorn?¡± Hermione stepped forward cautiously, maintaining a respectful distance. ¡°You can talk?!¡±


    ¡°Magical creatures are magical for a reason, aren¡¯t they?¡± Harry chuckled, pulling out the food he¡¯d brought for Poppy.


    As Harry offered a bacon sandwich, Hermione exclaimed, ¡°Harry, you can¡¯t! Unicorns don¡¯t eat those¡ªthey only like berries¡­¡±


    She trailed off, stunned as Poppy gleefully bit into the bacon sandwich.


    ¡°...and grass,¡± Hermione finished weakly, her worldview shaken.


    Harry glanced at her bewildered expression and continued feeding Poppy.


    ¡°Looks like the all-knowing Hermione doesn¡¯t know everything,¡± Ron whispered to Seamus and Neville.


    Both nodded in agreement, though they kept their distance. The thought of approaching a unicorn, especially one with such a sharp horn, was a bit too daunting.


    ----


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 Chapter 83: Harry and I Have Known Each Other for Over a Century

    After Poppy finished eating the food Harry had brought, the group sat down on the grass and began to chat casually.


    Poppy lay curled up on the ground, motioning for Harry to lean against her.


    The others weren¡¯t as fortunate; the four of them could only sit across from Harry, looking on enviously at how the unicorn showed Harry such affection.


    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t seen it with my own eyes, I¡¯d have thought unicorns only warmed up to the purest-hearted young maidens,¡± Hermione said wistfully. ¡°But then again, it makes sense since Harry saved Miss Poppy¡¯s life...¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not right, Hermione,¡± Poppy corrected her. ¡°It¡¯s not because Harry saved me; it¡¯s because Harry and I are old friends.¡±


    ¡°Old friends?!¡± The group exclaimed in unison.


    They all knew Harry had grown up in his aunt and uncle¡¯s house with little to no contact with the wizarding world. How could he possibly be old friends with a unicorn?


    Harry tilted his head and asked, ¡°Do I really have to explain, Poppy?¡±


    ¡°Of course! Harry and I have known each other for over a hundred years,¡± Poppy said, flicking Harry¡¯s face lightly with her tail. ¡°To be precise, it¡¯s been 105 years!¡±


    ¡°One hundred and five years?!¡± Hermione quickly did the math. 1992 minus 105¡­


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible! A hundred and five years ago was 1887,¡± Hermione said, her face full of disbelief. ¡°Harry is only twelve years old, and you¡­¡±


    ¡°Unicorns live for a very long time,¡± Poppy said with a cheerful laugh.


    ¡°That¡¯s still impossible unless Harry traveled through time, went back a hundred years, and returned!¡± Hermione said firmly. ¡°But that¡¯s impossible. Time travel only exists in science fiction, not reality!¡±


    ¡°Well, believe what you want,¡± Poppy said with a knowing smile. It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d been doubted.


    ¡°I did visit the Forbidden Forest once before,¡± Harry said, skirting around the details of a century ago. ¡°That¡¯s when I met Poppy, and we became friends.¡±


    This explanation satisfied the group. They accepted it as the truth.


    ¡°Looks like Miss Poppy has mistaken you for that Harry from a hundred years ago,¡± Ron said, hugging his knees.


    ¡°You mean that Harry? Oh, I knew him too,¡± Poppy said brightly.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    The four gasped in shock. They couldn¡¯t believe the unicorn before them actually knew the Harry Potter from a century ago.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Yes, the Harry Potter from a hundred years ago was quite the figure at this school,¡± Poppy said with a radiant smile. ¡°Take this Forbidden Forest, for instance. What do you think of it?¡±


    ¡°What do we think? It¡¯s terrifying, of course!¡± Seamus exclaimed eagerly. ¡°The forest is full of all sorts of creatures¡ªwerewolves, trolls, and I¡¯ve even heard there are spiders as big as cars...¡±


    Hearing the phrase ¡°spiders as big as cars,¡± Ron turned pale. For the first time in his life, he cursed his vivid imagination. Just one sentence, and he¡¯d already conjured a horrifying image of the spiders in his mind.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Poppy said meaningfully, glancing at Harry. ¡°But, Harry¡­ every time he entered the Forbidden Forest, it was like he was coming home.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± the four asked in unison.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Poppy said, her voice full of nostalgia. ¡°Things are very different now compared to a hundred years ago. Back then, Hogwarts was surrounded by dangers¡ªdark wizards roamed outside the school gates, and the Forbidden Forest was full of poachers. They even had a Poachers¡¯ Guild, and their black market auctions featured dragons.¡±


    ¡°It was a perilous time for students. Danger lurked everywhere outside Hogwarts, and stories of students being harmed¡ªor even killed¡ªby dark wizards were far too common...¡±


    ¡°So what happened to them? Why did they disappear?¡± Hermione asked, puzzled. ¡°Poaching in the Forbidden Forest must have been highly lucrative. I can¡¯t believe such a large organization would simply vanish...¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all dead, of course,¡± Poppy said, lifting her head with a human-like smile. ¡°The most feared group of them all, Ashwinder Gang, who even the Ministry of Magic hesitated to provoke, was utterly wiped out by that Harry Potter and his companions. Any dark wizard who dared resist met their end under a curse. After that, the name Ashwinder Gang faded into history.¡±


    ¡°Wow¡­¡± The four were in awe.


    To them, Poppy was a living witness to history. Her words had to be true.


    What¡¯s more, that Harry Potter shared the same name as their Harry Potter. This naturally made them feel a strong connection to the Harry from a century ago.


    ¡°Could you tell us more about that Harry and his friends?¡± Hermione, ever the scholar, was especially intrigued by this hidden history. She looked at Poppy expectantly, eager for answers.


    Poppy shifted into a more comfortable position and began her story.


    ¡°Yes, Harry had several good friends. There was Gareth Weasley from Gryffindor¡­¡±


    She glanced at Ron. ¡°Your ancestor, Ron.¡±


    ¡°Yes! My great-grandfather!¡± Ron said proudly, thumping his chest. He was thrilled that his ancestor had been friends with such a great Harry Potter.


    ¡°There was also Amit Thakkar from Ravenclaw, Poppy Sweeting from Hufflepuff,¡± Poppy continued, ¡°and from Slytherin, Ominis Gaunt and Sebastian Sallow.¡±


    ¡°Additionally, there were two girls deeply connected to Harry¡ªCassandra Malfoy and Veratia Grindelwald.¡±


    As she said this, Poppy cast a sly glance at Harry but saw no reaction from him.


    ¡°Grindelwald?!¡± Seamus frowned. ¡°That surname¡­ why does it sound so familiar?¡±


    ¡°From the Chocolate Frog cards, of course,¡± Ron said over his shoulder. ¡°The dark wizard Dumbledore defeated in 1945¡ªhis name was Grindelwald.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Seamus said, realization dawning. He then turned to Poppy. ¡°Miss Poppy, was that Grindelwald girl related to the dark wizard Grindelwald?¡±


    ¡°As far as I know, Veratia Grindelwald was Gellert Grindelwald¡¯s sister,¡± Poppy recalled.


    ¡°Unbelievable, huh?¡± Ron said, turning to his friends. ¡°Two siblings from the same parents¡ªone who fought dark wizards, and the other who became one. I wonder what that missing Grindelwald sister would think if she knew her brother became a dark wizard...¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d better not let either Grindelwald hear you say that,¡± Poppy said sympathetically, glancing at Ron. For some reason, she felt Ron might someday cross paths with Gellert.


    Hermione, however, had honed in on something important. She turned to Poppy.


    ¡°Miss Poppy, you mentioned a Hufflepuff named Poppy Sweeting earlier. Is your name related to hers?¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 84: But You’re the Real Dog

    Hearing Hermione¡¯s question, Harry glanced at Poppy with some concern.


    To his surprise, Poppy raised her head, smiled brightly, and said, ¡°Oh no, you¡¯ve figured it out! Yes, I¡¯m actually Poppy Sweeting from Hufflepuff.¡±


    ¡°Cool!¡± Ron clapped his hands together. ¡°I knew you weren¡¯t ordinary! So you¡¯re the famous Miss Sweeting...¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up, Ronald!¡± Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron¡¯s simplistic thinking.


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as an Animagus that can turn into a magical creature! At least, that¡¯s what the books say¡ªabsolutely, positively, never attempt to become a magical creature!¡±


    Poppy¡¯s eyes crinkled with amusement. She had expected no one to believe the truth.


    Instead of lying to hide herself, she decided it was better to tell the truth outright.


    Everyone knows that lies require countless others to cover them up, but the truth doesn¡¯t.


    ¡°Oh, so Miss Unicorn can lie too?¡± Ron asked pitifully.


    Poppy didn¡¯t respond, simply giving Ron a meaningful look.


    ¡°Well, Ron, you¡¯re such a fool,¡± Hermione said with a resigned shake of her head.


    ¡°Miss Poppy, am I really a fool?¡± Ron looked at Poppy with wide, pleading eyes.


    Poppy shook her head, smiling. ¡°Silly boy, how could you possibly be a fool?¡±


    Ron: ...


    He puffed out his cheeks, sulking as he hugged his knees and turned away.


    This pitiful display of grievance made everyone burst out laughing.


    At that moment, Hagrid appeared with Fang by his side.


    When Harry saw Fang, he suddenly remembered that the dog had been left unconscious in the Forbidden Forest when he and Hagrid returned the previous day.


    At the time, Harry had been engrossed in a conversation with Firenze about Voldemort, while Hagrid was preoccupied with reporting the incident to Dumbledore. Between the two of them, Fang had been completely forgotten.


    ¡°Miss Poppy¡ªoh, and the rest of you¡ªgood afternoon!¡± Hagrid greeted them, his arms full of something.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Hagrid,¡± they all replied in unison.


    Hagrid walked up, with Fang trailing behind him. He plopped down on the ground beside Ron.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Hagrid said, ¡°yesterday, when we came back, I forgot to bring Fang along. It wasn¡¯t until I woke up this morning that I remembered¡ªbut by then, he had already returned. That said, why would Fang have fainted? He¡¯s a coward, and normally he¡¯d run off long before anything could scare him that much.¡±


    ¡°He fainted out of fright, thanks to the person in black robes,¡± Harry said succinctly.


    At these words, Fang shot up and stared at Harry in disbelief, as if he couldn¡¯t comprehend being accused like this by a two-legged pup.


    Fang stubbornly approached Harry, barking indignantly, his wide eyes full of grievance. His expression practically screamed: I might not be human, but you¡¯re the real dog here!


    Do you not know why I passed out?


    ¡°See that?¡± Harry said to Hagrid. ¡°He¡¯s upset.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he wanted to start talking right now,¡± Poppy remarked in agreement.


    ¡°Alright, alright, Fang,¡± Hagrid called the dog back. ¡°I know you¡¯re a coward. Fainting out of fear isn¡¯t that hard to understand¡ª¡±


    Fang whimpered twice, dejectedly lowering his head and curling up at Hagrid¡¯s side.


    Great. Now my reputation as a cowardly dog is set in stone.


    The lunch break passed quickly, but luckily, Fridays only had two Potions classes. With no afternoon or evening lessons, they had more time to spend with Poppy.


    However, as first-year students still needed their rest, Harry had to bid a reluctant farewell to Poppy, promising to bring her some treats tomorrow. He then returned to the dormitory with his friends.


    ¡°Goodness, Harry, you actually know a unicorn!¡± Hermione still seemed awestruck. ¡°Unicorns¡ªthey¡¯re such noble creatures...¡±


    Harry didn¡¯t say much, merely smiling at Hermione.


    ¡°Harry...¡±


    ¡°Potter!¡±


    Two voices, one from the left and one from the right, interrupted. Harry felt two arms wrap around his neck.


    It was Fred and George.


    ¡°Come chat with your big brothers,¡± they said in unison. ¡°But don¡¯t let Miss Know-It-All find out what we¡¯re up to.¡±


    Hermione blew at her bangs, choosing to ignore them.


    ¡°You guys go ahead. I¡¯ve got something to discuss with Fred and George,¡± Harry said to Ron and the others.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± Ron advised. ¡°Those two are nothing but trouble.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Ronniekins,¡± Fred and George chorused again, perfectly synchronized. ¡°You¡¯re just like Mum.¡±


    Ron, who had been about to retort, blushed furiously at the nickname ¡°Ronniekins¡± and stormed off to the dormitory.


    The three of them headed to the common room, where Harry immediately asked, ¡°Hey, have you two found out anything about what¡¯s under Quirrell¡¯s turban?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Fred and George replied in unison. ¡°Ever since we had Defense Against the Dark Arts this week, we haven¡¯t seen Professor Quirrell at all¡ªit¡¯s like he¡¯s vanished from Hogwarts.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Harry scratched his head. Something felt off, but he couldn¡¯t put his finger on it.


    ¡°But that¡¯s not why we¡¯re here,¡± Fred said, pulling a biscuit out of his pocket and handing it to Harry. ¡°Here, take a look.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Harry held the golden biscuit up to the sunlight, inspecting it but finding nothing unusual.


    ¡°A Canary Cream,¡± George said with a mischievous grin. ¡°One of our new prank products. Eat it, and you¡¯ll temporarily turn into a human canary. It¡¯s hilarious!¡±


    Harry looked from Fred to George, then back again.


    ¡°You two have quite the knack for pranks,¡± Harry remarked, placing the Canary Cream on the table.


    He didn¡¯t have any enemies at school, so he couldn¡¯t think of anyone to use it on.


    Sensing Harry¡¯s lack of enthusiasm, the twins leaned in and whispered, ¡°Just think, Harry. If Quirrell ate the biscuit and turned into a human canary, wouldn¡¯t the secret under his turban be exposed?¡±


    They waggled their eyebrows at Harry, identical mischievous smiles on their faces.


    Harry imagined Quirrell as a giant, feathered canary in his mind...


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit too much?¡± he suddenly felt a twinge of pity for Quirrell.


    ----


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 Chapter 85: Not the Same, Mate

    "It¡¯s just a prank, that¡¯s all. Besides, he¡¯s a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Fred shrugged. "If he¡¯s competent at his job, he should¡¯ve spotted something off about these biscuits, don¡¯t you think?"


    "You¡¯ve got a point," Harry agreed with a nod.


    The thought of Dudley crossed his mind again. If he hadn¡¯t been to Hogwarts a century ago, perhaps he wouldn¡¯t mind taking a few biscuits home now and letting Dudley have a couple.


    Dudley?


    Thinking about his gluttonous Muggle cousin, Harry also remembered Smeltings, the private boarding school Dudley attended. That school was a haven for the wealthy, as attending it meant one came from a well-to-do family.


    If these prank items were handed to Dudley to sell at Smeltings, would they become a schoolwide sensation?


    The Weasleys¡¯ family finances weren¡¯t great, and if the twins could make some money with their creations, it might help ease the burden at home. At the very least, Ron wouldn¡¯t have to wear second-hand robes anymore.


    Besides, the Potter family wasn¡¯t sitting on an endless pile of gold. That fortune would run out someday, and it was only prudent to explore other avenues for income.


    Hmm, no. Canary Creams were too eye-catching. They should think of subtler prank items that wouldn¡¯t raise suspicion among Muggles.


    With this thought, Harry looked up at Fred and George. "Fred, George, I just thought of something even more interesting."


    "What is it?" the twins asked in unison.


    "Do you have any other ideas?" Harry tapped the Canary Cream. "I mean, besides this biscuit."


    "Don¡¯t tell me you think the Canary Cream isn¡¯t enough and want to give Professor Quirrell something more exciting?" Fred and George exchanged a glance and clapped their hands together. "Cool! We knew our Gryffindor lion wouldn¡¯t settle for mediocrity¡ª"


    "No, I mean something less..." Harry picked up the biscuit. "Less magical. Something more subtle that Muggles wouldn¡¯t notice."


    "We haven¡¯t really thought about that," the twins said together. Then they asked, "What are you planning to do?"


    Harry glanced at them, tapping his fingers on the table. "You know I¡¯ve been living with my aunt¡¯s family, right?"


    "Yeah," they nodded in unison.


    "My Muggle cousin goes to Smeltings," Harry continued. "If he could introduce your products to his school..."


    He trailed off, giving the twins ample time to imagine the possibilities.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The twins exchanged another glance, still not quite grasping Harry¡¯s idea.


    "You¡¯re suggesting your Muggle cousin sell our products at his school?" Fred asked. "But they¡¯re Muggles..."


    "That¡¯s where your creativity comes in, gentlemen." Harry tapped the table with his fingers. "Muggle money can be exchanged for Galleons. If I¡¯m not mistaken, five pounds can be converted into one Galleon. And my cousin¡¯s school, Smeltings, is full of students from wealthy families."


    "Rich families?" George¡¯s eyes lit up, clearly intrigued by the prospect Harry was painting.


    "Very rich," Harry said earnestly. "Maybe not as wealthy as the Malfoys, but not far off."


    Harry was comparing them to the Malfoys of his era, who were immensely influential in the wizarding world. Cassandra¡¯s father, Septimus Malfoy, wielded significant power in the Ministry of Magic. Many even believed that the then-Minister, Archer Evermonde, was merely a puppet, with Septimus pulling the strings.


    As for the current Malfoys... well, they were more like a shadow of their former glory.


    Even so, a fallen giant was still larger than most. The Malfoy family¡¯s wealth and lifestyle were beyond what the Weasleys could imagine.


    Harry¡¯s suggestion lit a spark in Fred and George¡¯s minds¡ªMuggles had money, so why not make some from them?


    "We¡¯ll start brainstorming right away!" Fred and George dashed off with their newfound inspiration.


    Harry opened his mouth to offer some modifications, but they were already gone.


    Well, that¡¯s fine, he thought. Let them figure it out.


    --


    To Harry¡¯s surprise, Professor Quirrell didn¡¯t show up for Defense Against the Dark Arts for two weeks straight. Instead, Professor Snape took over the class.


    This spelled disaster for Gryffindor students. Except for a select few who received "special treatment," everyone else had points deducted left and right.


    Even the "special" few weren¡¯t spared entirely. While they avoided major deductions, Snape still found minor faults to penalize them for.


    In a way, Snape achieved a form of equality. He wouldn¡¯t let anyone off the hook, no matter how well they performed in class.


    When Neville demonstrated a perfectly executed Disarming Charm, Snape¡¯s face turned even darker.


    It wasn¡¯t the quality of Neville¡¯s spellcasting that irritated him¡ªit was the fact that Neville showed some talent in Defense Against the Dark Arts while remaining utterly hopeless in Potions.


    The stark contrast only deepened Snape¡¯s disdain for him. "Mr. Longbottom..." Snape said with a meaningful tone. "A commendable Disarming Charm. Gryffindor will gain... two points for your effort."


    The entire class collectively gasped.


    Professor Snape? Giving points to someone other than Potter? And to Neville Longbottom, of all people?


    Neville looked up in disbelief, his expression screaming, Professor, did you take the wrong potion this morning?


    Snape wasn¡¯t offended in the slightest. He smirked coldly and said, "In light of Mr. Longbottom¡¯s performance, you will join Mr. Potter in the Potions classroom every Wednesday and Saturday for private instruction."


    Neville¡¯s face fell instantly. He hadn¡¯t expected his excellent Disarming Charm to land him in trouble¡ªprivate tutoring sessions with Snape felt like a death sentence.


    Private instruction?


    Don¡¯t be ridiculous. Everyone knew that Snape¡¯s "private instruction" was just a euphemism for enduring his scathing criticism one-on-one.


    After class, Neville looked utterly dejected.


    "What¡¯s wrong, Neville?" Ron asked, concerned for his roommate.


    "I..." Neville shivered. "I¡¯ve been sentenced to detention with Professor Snape. Oh, Merlin, I hope I live to see another sunrise..."


    "Relax, Neville," Seamus said reassuringly. "Maybe it won¡¯t be so bad. Look at Harry¡ªhe¡¯s still alive and kicking!"


    "Yeah, Neville," Harry added. "Honestly, Professor Snape is quite kind and approachable. I¡¯ve learned a lot during my detentions with him."


    Neville, Seamus, and Ron all stared at Harry as if he¡¯d gone mad.


    Seriously, mate?


    Not everyone can handle what you can!


    ----


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 Chapter 86: The Painful Aftereffects

    No matter how much Neville struggled, he ultimately had to accept reality.


    Even if sorrow could flow backward like a river, it wouldn¡¯t change the fact that he was now bound to endure Snape''s ¡°special tutoring.¡±


    Resigned to his fate, he directed all his frustration and sadness toward the dinner table, voraciously devouring several hearty steaks.


    Just as Harry was finishing his meal, a delicate paper crane fluttered in front of him.


    It was a letter from Gemma.


    <blockquote>


    Harry,


    There¡¯s something I¡¯d like to discuss with you in person. I¡¯ll wait for you in the empty classroom on the second floor.


    Yours sincerely,


    G.A. Farley


    </blockquote>


    Harry folded the letter and glanced over at the Slytherin table.


    Miss Farley, as if sensing his gaze, brushed her sleek black hair to one side and nodded slightly in his direction with a polite smile before leaving the table.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got something to do, Ron,¡± Harry said as he stood up. ¡°You can head back to the dorm without me.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Ron didn¡¯t pry, too focused on his chicken drumstick to care.


    Following Gemma¡¯s trail, Harry ascended the stairs to the second floor of the castle. He pulled his wand from the lining of his robe and slid it into his sleeve¡ªa precautionary habit ingrained in him by Cassandra.


    When he reached the empty classroom where he had last met Gemma, he cast Homenum Revelio to confirm she was alone before pushing open the door. Sitting on a bench, Gemma looked deeply worried.


    ¡°Mr. Potter¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Gemma?¡± Harry asked, taking a seat across from her.


    ¡°Something strange has been happening in Slytherin lately,¡± Gemma said in a low voice, glancing at the door to ensure no one was eavesdropping.


    Harry remained silent, his focus entirely on her words.


    ¡°A mysterious notebook has appeared in the Slytherin common room,¡± she continued. ¡°Draco Malfoy brought it in. Those who¡¯ve used it claim it has a will of its own, helping them quickly complete their assignments or improve their spellwork.¡±


    ¡°But they have to pay a small ¡®price.¡¯ I reported it to Professor Snape, but he didn¡¯t seem to care¡ªlike he has more pressing matters to deal with.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Harry instantly connected the dots.


    No wonder the Slytherin students were always so exhausted¡ªthey were using a notebook that drained their soul energy.


    ¡°A notebook?¡± Harry frowned. ¡°What kind of notebook? Are you sure Draco brought it?¡±


    He felt a surge of unease. Could the notebook be¡­ one of Cassandra¡¯s relics?


    ¡°Yes,¡± Gemma said earnestly. ¡°It¡¯s supposedly a family heirloom. I¡¯ve heard it contains the image of a beautiful girl with exceptional spellcasting skills.¡±


    ¡°A girl?¡± Harry¡¯s heart skipped a beat.


    Suppressing his excitement, he asked calmly, ¡°Could it be an ancestor of the Malfoy family?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Gemma admitted. ¡°Everyone seems to avoid describing the girl¡¯s appearance.¡±


    ¡°This is valuable information. Thank you, Gemma,¡± Harry said sincerely.


    Part of him hoped the girl was Cassandra. Yet another part wished she wasn¡¯t¡ªafter all, the notebook was clearly an artifact of dark magic. And, for reasons he couldn¡¯t quite explain, he didn¡¯t want Cassandra associated with other boys.


    A century ago, Cassandra had been like an unattainable flower atop a high peak, indifferent to everyone except Harry. She hadn¡¯t even spoken kindly to him, let alone anyone else.


    ¡°I hope you can help, Harry,¡± Gemma said, rubbing her temples. ¡°I have a gut feeling this notebook is bad news. I¡¯ve heard Draco¡¯s father, Lucius Malfoy, was once a loyal servant of You-Know-Who. That notebook might be one of his dark artifacts. I don¡¯t want Slytherin plagued by his influence again.¡±


    ¡°Why come to me for help?¡± Harry asked, genuinely curious.


    ¡°This is dark magic. Evil dark magic,¡± Gemma said firmly. ¡°Who else but dark wizards would deal in soul energy?¡±


    ¡°Besides, as a Slytherin prefect, I could report this to Professor Snape or even the Headmaster. But doing so would isolate my family from the pure-blood factions in Slytherin.¡±


    Harry nodded. That reasoning was entirely consistent with Slytherin¡¯s pragmatic approach.


    ¡°As an exchange, I offer you my loyalty, Mr. Potter,¡± Gemma said.


    Slytherins were nothing if not practical. They understood that asking for help required offering something in return. Gemma saw this as an opportunity to align herself with the Boy Who Lived.


    Harry didn¡¯t accept or reject her offer outright. Instead, he gave her a warm smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help as much as I can, Gemma.¡±


    Gemma didn¡¯t seem disappointed by his response. She looked visibly relieved.


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Potter.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so formal¡ªjust call me Harry,¡± he said, standing up. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else, I¡¯ll take my leave.¡±


    After bidding Gemma farewell, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room.


    The notebook Gemma mentioned intrigued him.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t ready to involve Dumbledore just yet. He needed to confirm whether it truly had any connection to Cassandra.


    This matter required careful planning. Barging into the Slytherin common room wasn¡¯t exactly an option for a Gryffindor.


    The next week passed peacefully. At lunchtime, Harry continued to feed Poppy the owl, and in the evenings, he trained in dueling with his friends in the Dueling Club. Life felt full and satisfying.


    When Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Harry joined his fellow Gryffindors in the classroom, bracing himself for another round of verbal venom from Professor Snape.


    To their surprise, however, their instructor wasn¡¯t Snape this week¡ªit was none other than the returned Professor Quirrell.


    Quirrell looked even paler than before. Seamus, ever concerned, asked about his health, and Quirrell explained that the vampire curse had flared up again.


    Yet Harry sensed something amiss.


    In an instant, he spotted a subtle secret about Quirrell.


    There was no denying it: Veratia truly was a genius witch, deserving of Professor Figo¡¯s ¡°one of a kind¡± praise.


    Under her guidance, even minor curses like the Imperius Curse or the Cruciatus Curse left faint, nearly imperceptible marks on their targets.


    And there, on Quirrell, was one of those marks¡ªa tiny imprint left by a spell Harry had cast.


    ----


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 Chapter 87: Don’t Think Ill of Your Professor

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    Harry only lifted his head briefly before lowering it again.


    Tell Dumbledore?


    He dismissed the idea almost instantly.


    Voldemort, in his current state, was barely clinging to life¡ªparasitizing someone else''s body, surviving on unicorn blood just to scrape by.


    If he couldn¡¯t defeat such a debilitated Voldemort, then all those lessons Cassandra and Veratia had drilled into him a century ago would have been for nothing. He might as well quit Hogwarts and enroll in Stonewall High to live the quiet life of a Muggle.


    But still...


    Harry decided to wait. He would act when Quirrell went to the third floor to steal the Philosopher¡¯s Stone.


    That way, he¡¯d even have a legitimate reason to make use of the Stone.


    Casting minor hexes in front of classmates¡ªeven harmless ones¡ªcould still scare people a little.


    Harry tucked these thoughts away and kept his head low, continuing to listen to Quirrell¡¯s lecture.


    When he returned to the Gryffindor common room that evening, Ron whispered to him, ¡°What¡¯s going on, mate? You actually paid attention in class today. That¡¯s not like you.¡±


    Ron wasn¡¯t wrong. Quirrell¡¯s usual stammering and utterly useless lectures were practically a lullaby.


    It wasn¡¯t just Gryffindors¡ªRavenclaws, too, had long since categorized Defense Against the Dark Arts as being on par with History of Magic.


    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong with Quirrell,¡± Harry said, sitting down on the sofa. ¡°I just figured it out.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Hermione leaned in, lowering her voice. ¡°No wonder he¡¯s been taking so much leave. Harry, what did you find out?¡±


    ¡°Do you remember when I said Voldemort is hiding at Hogwarts?¡± Harry asked Hermione.


    She hesitated before nodding. ¡°I remember, but what does that have to do with Quirrell?¡±


    ¡°It was Voldemort who attacked Miss Poppy in the Forbidden Forest,¡± Harry explained. ¡°When I drove him away, I left a mark on him. Today, during class, I sensed that mark on Quirrell.¡±


    ¡°So that means¡­¡±


    ¡°That means Quirrell is Voldemort! Voldemort is Quirrell!¡± Ron declared, slamming his fist into his palm.


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    ¡°No way!¡± Hermione furrowed her brows, resting her chin on her hand. ¡°If Voldemort is so weak he¡¯s attacking unicorns, then he must be in dire straits. Quirrell, on the other hand, just looks a bit pale. He doesn¡¯t seem that weak¡­ Wait¡ªI¡¯ve got it!¡±


    She slammed the table in excitement. ¡°I know why Quirrell wears that massive turban! If Harry¡¯s mark is real, then Voldemort must be hiding under that turban!¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Seamus raised a hand. ¡°Really? I mean, no offense, but the Dark Lord¡¯s supposed to be this powerful dark wizard. Why would he be like¡­ a parasite stuck to someone¡¯s head, wrapped up in garlic-scented cloth? That¡¯s just¡­ off.¡±


    ¡°Someone as evil as Voldemort, who¡¯s stooped to attacking unicorns, wouldn¡¯t care about appearances anymore,¡± Hermione said firmly. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, the Philosopher¡¯s Stone is in danger. We need to inform Professor Dumbledore!¡±


    She hurried out of the common room.


    ¡°She¡¯s really something, isn¡¯t she?¡± Ron raised an eyebrow.


    Moments later, Hermione came rushing back in.


    ¡°Bad news, Harry!¡± she hissed. ¡°I just went to find Professor McGonagall. She said Dumbledore received an urgent letter from the Ministry and has left Hogwarts!¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you tell McGonagall about Quirrell?¡± Ron asked.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t believe me!¡± Hermione covered her face in frustration. ¡°She told me not to assume the worst of our professors and to stop saying things that might disrupt the school¡¯s unity.¡±


    Harry¡¯s instincts told him something was off. As the greatest white wizard of the era, how could Dumbledore not notice something was wrong with Quirrell?


    What troubled him most was the timing. Quirrell had just returned to school, and immediately Dumbledore was called away by the Ministry.


    Could this be a scheme by Quirrell¡ªor rather, Voldemort¡ªto lure Dumbledore away? With Dumbledore gone, the school would be unguarded.


    ¡°We can¡¯t wait any longer,¡± Harry said, standing up. He patted the wand hidden inside his robes and turned to Ron. ¡°I¡¯m going to stop him!¡±


    He strode toward the exit.


    ¡°Wait, Harry!¡±


    Harry turned to see Ron following him.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need a hand, won¡¯t you?¡± Ron said. ¡°I¡¯m coming with you.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡± ¡°Count me in.¡± The other three chimed in.


    ¡°I need to remind you,¡± Harry said, glancing at them, ¡°this isn¡¯t a trip to the Room of Requirement for a little dueling practice. We¡¯re going up against the most dangerous dark wizard of the century: Voldemort.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Ron said seriously. ¡°But we¡¯re friends. I can¡¯t just sit by while you face danger alone.¡±


    ¡°Ron.¡± Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I appreciate it, but Voldemort isn¡¯t a problem first-years should handle¡­¡±


    ¡°I know, Harry.¡±


    Ron¡¯s body trembled slightly at the mention of Voldemort, but he quickly steadied himself. ¡°You told me once during our duel: I¡¯m your second. If something happens to you, I¡¯ll step up.¡±


    Hermione added, ¡°And Dumbledore didn¡¯t just have Hagrid set up Fluffy for no reason. There must be more obstacles. With us, you can get through them faster.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Harry said, stopping them.


    He returned to the dormitory and pulled out a vial of Felix Felicis¡ªLiquid Luck, a Christmas gift from Snape.


    When he returned to the common room, his four friends were waiting anxiously.


    ¡°If anyone wants to back out, now¡¯s the time,¡± Harry said, looking at them seriously. ¡°We¡¯re about to face Voldemort. There¡¯s no shame in being afraid.¡±


    ¡°V-Voldemort¡¯s followers tortured my parents,¡± Neville stammered, standing straighter. ¡°Even if it¡¯s for them, I can¡¯t back down!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re Gryffindors,¡± Ron said, thumping his chest. ¡°We¡¯ve got bravery deep in our hearts. It¡¯s our courage and determination that make our house great!¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 88: Gryffindor, Courage Above All!

    Harry looked at his companions, understanding that strong trees could never grow in greenhouses.


    A hundred years ago, Hogwarts students stood out because the magical world itself was fraught with danger¡ªjust stepping outside could mean encountering poachers or dark wizards.


    Seeing their eagerness to stop Quirrell, Harry realized that dissuading them would be futile. Rather than having them sneak along in secret, he decided it was better to agree to their company, so he could at least watch over them.


    On the other hand, Harry also wanted to temper his companions, just as Sebastian and the others had tempered him in the past.


    Overprotection would only make them fragile flowers in a greenhouse, not towering trees capable of standing alone.


    "This is Felix Felicis," Harry said, holding a small vial of the shimmering potion. "I don¡¯t need to explain what it does. At the very least, it¡¯ll ensure none of you get hurt. Come on, each of you take a small sip."


    With that, Harry conjured four small cups using Transfiguration, evenly dividing the potion and handing it to the group.


    "What about you, Harry?" Ron asked.


    "I don¡¯t need it," Harry replied with a wink.


    After the four drained their cups, Harry addressed them again: "This is a real test for our Dueling Club. I hope you¡¯ll follow my lead."


    "Understood, Harry," they replied in unison.


    Harry nodded, handing the Invisibility Cloak to the group.


    "Follow me. Wear this."


    The cloak was large enough to cover all four of them as they moved.


    "Neville! You¡¯re stepping on my foot!" Seamus complained in a low voice.


    "Sorry!" Neville apologized hastily.


    They ascended the staircase to the fourth floor, where Hermione pulled off the cloak and approached a door. "Look! This door¡¯s been opened. It¡¯s obvious Quirrell has already gone in!"


    A deep growling sound came from within. Hermione opened the door, locking eyes with the three-headed dog inside.


    "There¡¯s a harp over there," Hermione said, turning back to the group. "Hagrid once mentioned that Fluffy falls asleep to music..."


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    She drew her wand and waved it gently toward the harp, which began to play a soothing tune. Fluffy, who had been growling, immediately started to droop its eyelids and fell asleep within seconds.


    "Quick, get inside," Hermione whispered, still directing the harp with her wand.


    "It won¡¯t wake up, will it?" Neville asked nervously, glancing at Fluffy.


    "It won¡¯t," Harry assured him, stepping into the room first. Ron followed, scanning the walls but failing to find the next door.


    "Over here!" Seamus called, gesturing to a trapdoor in the floor.


    "Lumos." Harry lit his wand and peered down but couldn¡¯t see the bottom.


    "Revelio!" he cast another spell, but the result was the same.


    "I¡¯ll go first," Harry told the group. "If it¡¯s safe, I¡¯ll call you down."


    "And if it¡¯s not?" Ron asked.


    "Then you go get the professors!" Harry rolled his eyes before jumping in, casting a cushioning charm as he descended.


    He landed on something soft and springy¡ªa plant, most likely.


    "It¡¯s fine! Come down!" he shouted up.


    The opening above looked no larger than a fingernail from his perspective.


    "Ahhh!"


    With four simultaneous screams, the rest of the group landed beside him.


    "You know," Neville muttered, "I had half a mind to strangle you midair!"


    "Be grateful for the plant," Ron said, brushing himself off.


    "Grateful?" Hermione shrieked. "It¡¯s grabbing my legs! Oh no, it¡¯s wrapping around me!"


    It was then that everyone noticed something was wrong.


    Ron struggled but found the more he moved, the tighter the grip became.


    "Stop struggling, Ron!" Neville shouted. "It¡¯s Devil¡¯s Snare! The more you fight, the tighter it gets!"


    "Great!" Ron snapped. "Now that we know what it is, what do we do about it? Neville, you¡¯re the Herbology enthusiast!"


    "Professor Sprout mentioned..." Neville mumbled, before shouting, "Seamus! Burn it! It hates fire!"


    "No! Not Seamus!"


    Ron barely managed to protest before there was a deafening explosion.


    The Devil¡¯s Snare recoiled, releasing the group, who tumbled to the ground.


    "See? Sometimes, I¡¯m pretty good," Seamus grinned. "That Devil¡¯s Snare really hated my little explosion."


    "I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d use actual flames next time," Neville said, his face covered in soot.


    Seamus¡¯s spell had been too close to Neville, making him the primary victim of the blast.


    "Good thing Neville knows his Herbology," Ron said, still shaken. "Otherwise, we¡¯d all have been done for."


    "Let¡¯s keep moving," Hermione said, wiping the corner of her mouth to stifle a laugh.


    They continued down a stone corridor, their footsteps echoing alongside the sound of dripping water.


    "Do you hear something?" Neville asked quietly.


    "It¡¯s a buzzing sound, like flies," Hermione said, looking ahead.


    "Let¡¯s check it out," Ron said, confidently leading the way¡ªperhaps emboldened by the Felix Felicis.


    At the end of the corridor, they entered a brightly lit room with a high, arched ceiling.


    Countless sparkling, gem-like birds flitted around, their wings shimmering as they darted through the room.


    On the far side stood a thick wooden door, barring their way.


    "They¡¯re not birds," Seamus said, squinting up at them. "They¡¯re keys. But which one¡¯s the right one?"


    "The big one!" Neville pointed at a large, sky-blue key with damaged wings.


    Ron and Hermione spotted a broomstick lying near the door.


    "Harry!" Ron exclaimed, pointing at it. "You¡¯re the Seeker¡ªit¡¯s your time to shine!"


    "Accio!" Harry said, raising his wand toward the injured key.


    The key flailed weakly but couldn¡¯t resist the spell. Harry grabbed it, smirking at Ron.


    "Sometimes, being a Seeker doesn¡¯t even require a broom."


    ----


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 Chapter 89: Avada Kedavra!

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    "Brilliant," Ron exclaimed with a thumbs-up.


    Harry stepped forward, inserted the key into the keyhole, and turned it. The lock clicked audibly.


    Pushing open the door, they found the next room pitch black, with nothing visible inside.


    However, as soon as they stepped in, the room was suddenly flooded with light, revealing a shocking scene.


    They stood before a massive chessboard, flanked by towering black chess pieces, each larger than them and seemingly carved from black stone or something similar.


    At the far end of the room, facing them, were white chess pieces.


    These tall, faceless white pieces looked hauntingly eerie. Neville let out a yelp and grabbed Seamus''s arm.


    ¡°If you squeeze any harder, my arm''s going to snap, Neville,¡± Seamus quipped sarcastically.


    Truthfully, Seamus had been scared too, but Neville¡¯s panicked grip had snapped him out of it.


    ¡°What do we do now?¡± Hermione asked.


    Ron raised his head to examine the pieces, his expression serious.


    ¡°It¡¯s clear we need to play a game of chess to get to the next room.¡±


    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s another way?¡± Seamus suggested, eager to act. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the white king. ¡°Confringo!¡±


    The king shattered instantly. But before Seamus could fully revel in his success, the fragments on the ground started to quiver and quickly reassembled into a whole chess piece.


    ¡°Looks like shortcuts won¡¯t work,¡± Hermione murmured.


    ¡°I think,¡± Ron said, ¡°we¡¯ll need to become the chess pieces ourselves.¡±


    He approached a black knight and reached out to touch the horse.


    Immediately, the stone came alive. The horse pawed at the ground, and the knight turned its helmeted head to look at Ron.


    ¡°Do we¡­ uh, have to join you to win?¡± Ron asked.


    The black knight nodded.


    Ron turned back to Harry and Hermione. ¡°We need to think this through. I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll have to replace five black pieces here¡­¡±


    The others fell silent, watching Ron as he deliberated.


    After all, Ron was the chess expert among them. He was their only hope of winning.


    After careful thought, Ron spoke. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal. Don¡¯t get mad, okay? I¡¯m just being honest, but none of you are particularly good at chess¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not mad,¡± Seamus interjected quickly. ¡°Just tell us what to do.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Harry, you take the bishop¡¯s position. Hermione, stand next to him as the rook,¡± Ron instructed. ¡°Neville, you go to the opposite side as the other bishop. Seamus, you¡¯ll take the spot next to Neville as the other rook.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± Hermione asked loudly.


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    ¡°Me?¡± Ron took a deep breath, his expression resolute. ¡°I¡¯ll be a knight.¡±


    The pieces seemed to understand their conversation. As soon as Ron spoke, a knight, two bishops, and two rooks turned away from the white pieces and stepped off the board, leaving five open positions for the group.


    ¡°Standard wizard chess rules,¡± Ron explained, taking another deep breath. ¡°White moves first¡ª¡±


    Before he finished, a white pawn advanced one square.


    ¡°Harry, move four squares diagonally forward!¡± Ron commanded.


    Harry obeyed, stepping forward as instructed.


    It was the white pieces¡¯ turn next. The white queen advanced and brutally struck down a black knight with her iron mace, sending it flying off the board.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m a bit¡­¡± Seamus swallowed nervously. ¡°Ron, just don¡¯t let me get knocked out, alright?¡±


    ¡°Go, Neville,¡± Ron said, his voice steady and devoid of emotion. ¡°Take out their bishop.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Neville flinched. ¡°Take on the white bishop?¡±


    Despite his fear, he obediently drew his wand and cast a Disarming Charm, destroying the white bishop.


    Soon, the edges of the room were littered with lifeless black pieces.


    Twice, Ron¡¯s sharp observation saved Seamus and Neville from dangerous positions, devising solutions to rescue them.


    Ron himself led fierce charges on the board, eliminating as many white pieces as their side had lost.


    ¡°Let me think¡­ let me think¡­¡±


    Ron sat astride the black knight¡¯s steed, his face deeply conflicted.


    At that moment, the white queen turned her featureless face toward Ron.


    ¡°I need someone,¡± Ron muttered, swallowing hard. ¡°Someone willing to be sacrificed along with me.¡±


    ¡°What happens if we do?¡± Seamus asked hesitantly.


    Ron didn¡¯t answer but cast a meaningful glance at the dismembered black pieces scattered lifelessly on the ground.


    ¡°No!¡± Hermione shouted. ¡°You¡¯ll die, Ronald!¡±


    ¡°Do you want to stop Voldemort or not?¡± Ron roared back, his voice sharp and unwavering. ¡°This is chess! Sacrifices are part of the game! Someone has to be sacrificed¡ªwhy not me? I¡¯ve been prepared for this since the beginning!¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡± Hermione tried to argue.


    ¡°Stop wasting time!¡± Ron barked, his tone nearing a command. ¡°If we delay any longer, Voldemort will get what he came for!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it!¡± Seamus stepped forward. ¡°It can¡¯t be Harry¡ªhe¡¯s the only one destined to face Voldemort. Ron, let¡¯s just hope my sacrifice won¡¯t be in vain.¡±


    Harry clenched his fists tightly. He knew that while his friends might not match the Order of the Phoenix in magical skill, their courage and resolve were equal to anyone¡¯s.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Ron asked, his pale face resolute. ¡°I¡¯ll go first, then Seamus to A1. Harry¡ªyou finish the king.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Harry said firmly.


    Ron stepped forward, and the white queen pounced immediately. She raised her stone arm and delivered a crushing blow to Ron¡¯s head, knocking him to the ground. She then dragged his body off the board and tossed it aside.


    Hermione let out a piercing scream but stayed rooted in her square.


    ¡°It¡¯s my turn,¡± Seamus said, glancing at Harry and Hermione before trudging to A1.


    ¡°Check!¡±


    The white queen turned away from Harry and approached Seamus instead.


    ¡°Tell my mum I love her,¡± Seamus said before the queen struck him unconscious and hurled him off the board.


    ¡°Seamus!¡± Neville shouted.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± Harry ordered, pointing at Neville. He strode toward the white king and raised his head.


    ¡°Checkmate!¡±


    The white king removed his crown and placed it at Harry¡¯s feet.


    As the king moved, the rest of the white pieces bowed and stepped aside, clearing a path.


    ¡°Hermione, Neville,¡± Harry said, turning to them. ¡°Take care of Ron and Seamus. Go back to the room with the keys¡ªI remember there were some brooms there. Fly them to the hospital wing. The rest of this journey is mine alone.¡±


    ¡°Harry¡­¡± Hermione whispered, covering her mouth, her voice trembling. ¡°Be safe!¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Harry reassured her with a nod. He clapped Neville on the shoulder. ¡°Take care of Hermione. Stand tall¡ªyou¡¯re a man, Neville!¡±


    ¡°Alright!¡± Neville nodded emphatically.


    Harry watched them leave before turning and continuing forward.


    Ahead, he found an unconscious troll sprawled across the ground¡ªundoubtedly the work of either Quirrell or Voldemort.


    Past the troll was a puzzle involving potions, likely set by Professor Snape.


    After a moment of deliberation, Harry grabbed the smallest bottle and downed it in one gulp.


    Then, stepping through the black flames, he entered the next room.


    As expected, there stood Professor Quirrell in front of the Mirror of Erised.


    Quirrell turned to Harry, his face twisting into a sinister smile.


    ¡°Harry Potter¡­¡±


    Before he could finish, Harry drew his wand and pointed it at him.


    A jet of green light shot from Harry¡¯s wand, carrying an aura of death as it streaked toward Quirrell.


    ¡°Avada Kedavra!¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 90: Who the Hell is the Dark Lord? (1)

    The cramped room was suddenly bathed in a ghastly green glow. To his credit, Quirrell, the man chosen by the Dark Lord, swiftly dodged to the side, avoiding the deadly Avada Kedavra curse.


    What he hadn¡¯t anticipated, however, was that when the Killing Curse struck the ground, it split into another beam of green light that shot straight toward his face.


    Completely unprepared, Quirrell was hit squarely in the face by the refracted green light.


    With a dull thud, Quirrell collapsed to the ground, lifeless, not even managing a sound.


    Harry held his wand firmly, pointing it unwaveringly at Quirrell''s now lifeless body as he cautiously approached.


    The moment the Killing Curse split apart, he knew Voldemort was still clinging to the back of Quirrell¡¯s head. He wasn¡¯t about to let his guard down.


    When he reached Quirrell¡¯s side, he didn¡¯t hesitate for a moment and cast the spell again.


    ¡°Avada Kedavra!¡±


    The Killing Curse struck Quirrell once more. This time, there was no chance of him surviving.


    This was a habit Harry had cultivated over the past century. Once, a classmate let their guard down after defeating a Dark wizard, only to be killed by the seemingly dead enemy in a sudden counterattack.


    That painful lesson had been hammered into him by Cassandra and Veratia, who used it as a constant teaching point, drilling it into his ears day after day.


    Harry felt no pity for Quirrell.


    To crave power and gamble for status was one thing, but no reason could justify colluding with a parasitic Dark wizard like Voldemort.


    After finishing Quirrell off, Harry turned his attention to the Mirror of Erised.


    What he didn¡¯t expect was that this time, the mirror didn¡¯t show the Potter family or his two female classmates. Instead, it reflected himself.


    In the mirror, his reflection gave him a sly smile, winked, and appeared to be holding a stone.


    Could it be... the Philosopher¡¯s Stone?


    He had read about this item in Veratia¡¯s family library once, and it looked identical to the stone his reflection was holding.


    Harry stared curiously at the mirror. He then saw his reflection place the Philosopher¡¯s Stone into its trouser pocket.


    At that moment, Harry felt a sudden weight in his own pocket, as if something had been placed there.


    The Philosopher¡¯s Stone?!


    Harry couldn¡¯t believe it. Had the Philosopher¡¯s Stone fallen into his hands so easily?


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    He reached into his pocket, and the cold, smooth texture of the stone made him feel as though he were dreaming.


    ¡°Harry... Potter...¡±


    A hissing voice sounded, snapping Harry to full alert. He quickly retreated, spotting a face appearing in the mirror.


    The face was grotesque and sinister, almost skeletal, with no nose.


    ¡°Voldemort?¡± Harry asked uncertainly, raising his wand and tracing a spell in the air.


    ¡°Revelio!¡±


    A ripple of energy expanded outward from his wand, but the spell failed to reveal the location of the face.


    The face in the mirror twisted into a strange smile and spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your efforts, Harry Potter... I never imagined we were so alike...¡±


    Even as Voldemort spoke, Harry¡¯s thoughts raced.


    Wait a minute¡ªwho the hell is the Dark Lord here?


    A first-year student casting a Killing Curse right off the bat, splitting it to hit two targets at once? Seriously?


    If Quirrell hadn¡¯t taken the hit for him, Voldemort doubted he¡¯d have fared much better.


    He was beginning to suspect that this Harry Potter wasn¡¯t who he appeared to be.


    Could he be someone else disguised with Polyjuice Potion?


    By all logic, a first-year student couldn¡¯t possibly master the Killing Curse. Even if they could, they wouldn¡¯t be able to aim it properly. At most, it might cause a minor nosebleed, let alone deliver a lethal blow.


    But this Potter could hit two targets simultaneously, casting the Killing Curse effortlessly, without any emotional buildup. Was this how Hogwarts students were nowadays¡ªutterly ruthless?


    Despite his inner turmoil, Voldemort kept his voice smooth.


    ¡°I¡¯d love for Dumbledore to see what his Golden Boy is truly like... You were born to be a Dark wizard. Join me, Potter. Together, we can rule the magical world, the entire world, and achieve immortality!¡±


    The face in the mirror spoke persuasively, attempting to lure Harry in. ¡°Just lend me the Philosopher¡¯s Stone in your pocket¡ªI know countless powerful spells. I can even help you bring your parents back... Don¡¯t you want them to be with you as you grow up?¡±


    His goal was clear: the Philosopher¡¯s Stone in Harry¡¯s pocket. As for who Harry really was, that didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°Oh? And why should I trust you?¡± Harry retorted, unable to pinpoint where the face was, so he resorted to mockery. ¡°I don¡¯t think a parasitic wretch clinging to the back of someone¡¯s head has that kind of capability. You shouldn¡¯t be called the Dark Lord; you should be the Duck Lord because all you can do is quack uselessly like a duck.¡±


    The face in the mirror twisted in rage. Voldemort hadn¡¯t expected this child¡¯s words to be as vicious as his spells.


    Even Severus Snape, his former follower, couldn¡¯t match this boy¡¯s venomous tongue.


    The idea of being mocked as the "Duck Lord" was a humiliation Voldemort could barely stomach. He could already imagine the ridicule that would follow.


    ¡°You insolent brat!¡± Voldemort snarled furiously. ¡°You, a parentless orphan¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, please.¡± Harry sneered, cutting him off. ¡°My parents loved me dearly, and they died because of you. But you¡¯re different, Voldemort. I¡¯m guessing your mother didn¡¯t love you at all¡ªjust look at you. No nose? I bet she abandoned you at an orphanage because she couldn¡¯t stand the sight of you. You might as well crawl back to the primordial abyss and see if anyone wants you there!¡±


    ¡°Shut up! Shut up! How dare you!¡± Voldemort screeched, his voice breaking. ¡°How did you know... you¡ª!¡±


    Harry blinked, realizing his offhanded jab had hit a nerve.


    Judging by Voldemort¡¯s reaction, he had struck a raw and painful truth.


    Could it really be true?


    Oh, heavens, he¡¯d learned to insult like this from Professor Howin, the magical creatures teacher from China.


    Professor Howin was not only a masterful cook but also unmatched in delivering scathing remarks. Her sharp tongue was both poetic and lethal, blending Shakespearean elegance with merciless precision.


    And yet, Harry felt his own retort lacked the professor¡¯s finesse¡ªshe would¡¯ve brought up Voldemort¡¯s ancestors for at least eighteen generations.


    ¡°Well then, I owe you an apology, Voldemort,¡± Harry said sincerely. ¡°I had no idea your parents abandoned you when you were so young¡ª¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 91: Who the Hell is the Dark Lord? (2)

    To Voldemort¡¯s ears, however, those words were nothing less than the most venomous mockery.


    Lies don¡¯t hurt; it¡¯s the truth that cuts like a blade.


    Years ago, his mother, Merope Gaunt, fell deeply in love with Voldemort¡¯s father, a Muggle¡ªTom Riddle¡ªand used a love potion to ensnare him.


    But when the truth came out, not only did Tom cast Merope out like garbage, but even the Gaunt family deemed her a disgrace.


    Pregnant and disowned, Merope fled to London, leading a life of utter poverty. She was forced to sell the priceless gold locket of Slytherin for a mere ten Galleons to Borgin and Burkes¡¯ Mr. Burke.


    On a dark, snowy night, Merope gave birth to Voldemort at a Muggle orphanage¡ªand abandoned him without a second thought.


    Such gut-wrenching memories, mercilessly exposed by Harry, could only inflame Voldemort¡¯s rage.


    He glared at Harry furiously, but as his anger reached its peak, it seemed to cool, his mind regaining clarity.


    The most pressing matter now was to obtain the Philosopher¡¯s Stone. As long as he got the stone, everything would fall into place!


    Hmph, the naturally vile Potter brat!


    ¡°I accept your apology,¡± Voldemort said coldly, a new scheme forming in his mind.


    ¡°Your magnanimity could illuminate an entire washroom,¡± Harry replied with mock politeness, bowing slightly. ¡°A girls¡¯ washroom, at that.¡±


    Voldemort froze, let out a cold snort, and spoke again. ¡°Enough with the wordplay, Potter. You must realize, Dumbledore will not come to save you¡ªjust as he ignored Quirrell¡¯s attempt to curse you during that Quidditch match!¡±


    ¡°Quirrell¡¯s attempt?¡± Harry raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh, so it was Quirrell casting that curse¡ªwhy would he do that?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Voldemort let out a cold laugh. ¡°To catch Dumbledore¡¯s attention, of course. He hoped the great, selfless Dumbledore would notice he was trying to kill the so-called ¡®Savior¡¯ and come to his aid, helping him escape my control. But alas, Potter, Dumbledore ignored him. To Dumbledore, everyone is expendable.¡±


    Harry couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was off. Voldemort seemed to be stalling for time¡ªand his words were laced with intent to sow doubt about Dumbledore.


    If he were still a first-year child, he might have fallen for it, questioning Dumbledore¡¯s motives.


    But he had dealt with enough deceitful dark wizards, who would lie and kill without hesitation to survive and harm others.


    So he didn¡¯t believe a word Voldemort said.


    He reached into his pocket, his hand brushing against the Philosopher¡¯s Stone.


    The stone responded to his touch, its magical energy surging eagerly into his hand.


    In the mirror, Voldemort continued his verbal assault. ¡°As for you, Potter, you¡¯re just another pawn in his game. To defeat the great Voldemort, Dumbledore would sacrifice anyone!¡±


    ¡°Think about it¡ªyour parents, and even yourself... Don¡¯t you ever wonder why I targeted your family?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re a pathetic wretch unloved by your mother,¡± Harry retorted mercilessly, his hand still absorbing the Philosopher¡¯s Stone¡¯s energy.


    ¡°Potter!¡± Voldemort roared. ¡°My patience has its limits!¡±


    ¡°Speaking of limits, I¡¯m more curious why your mother abandoned you,¡± Harry said with a taunting smile. ¡°You¡¯re a deranged murderer; that¡¯s undeniable. You wanted to kill my parents simply because you could. But what I really want to know is why¡ªwhy your mother would leave you, why even your father didn¡¯t want you. By the way, we¡¯ve been talking for so long, and I still don¡¯t know your last name, Mr. Voldemort. Didn¡¯t your parents teach you it¡¯s polite to introduce yourself?¡±


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    ¡°Oh, my apologies!¡± Harry covered his mouth with mock horror, exaggerating his expression as he looked at Voldemort. ¡°I forgot¡ªyour parents abandoned you, didn¡¯t they?¡±


    He had learned that expression from Cassandra.


    Harry felt no guilt. After all, the Voldemort before him was the murderer of his parents, a man who had committed countless atrocities in the wizarding world, killing numerous innocent witches and wizards.


    Such a person deserved no pity.


    What¡¯s more, Harry was in the open, while Voldemort lurked in the shadows. Aggravating him into losing composure and revealing himself was the smarter move.


    ¡°Harry... Potter!¡± Voldemort hissed, his voice like a serpent¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind. You must die!¡±


    As he spoke, Quirrell¡¯s body suddenly sprang upright.


    A flash of green light appeared out of nowhere. Harry, already on guard, flicked his wand, transforming nearby rubble into a massive shield, blocking the unsettlingly vivid green light.


    He didn¡¯t stop there. A green light of his own shot back, though it missed ¡°Quirrell.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this!¡± hissed ¡°Quirrell.¡±


    Harry knew Voldemort had taken over Quirrell¡¯s body.


    ¡°Expelliarmus!¡± Harry cast a Disarming Charm, his other hand still gripping the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, drawing its energy.


    The Philosopher¡¯s Stone lived up to its name. Harry felt its power filling his body.


    That familiar sensation of strength was returning.


    Voldemort deflected the spell with his wand and extended a hand. With a sharp exhale, black flames erupted from thin air.


    He laughed¡ªa sound like a demon from the deepest pits of hell. The black flames roared, twisting into the form of a giant serpent with gaping jaws, poised to strike at Harry.


    It was Fiendfyre.


    Fiendfyre was an advanced Dark Art, a fire that grew ever stronger, capable of mimicking the shapes of beasts and indiscriminately devouring anything flammable.


    Many wizards who attempted it lacked the skill to control or dispel it, often causing unnecessary destruction¡ªand sometimes their own demise. Only powerful wizards could master it.


    A dark wizard like Voldemort, of course, had no trouble commanding Fiendfyre.


    Harry tightened his grip on the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, drawing on its vast energy reserves.


    Philosopher¡¯s Stone! Let me absorb you!


    Endless magical energy flowed from the stone into his body. Harry felt a surge of power course through him.


    Raising his wand, he slashed it through the air.


    With his motion, a ring of brilliant blue flames erupted around him, forming a protective barrier of fire.


    ----


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 Chapter 92: Oh No, I’ve Become a Horcrux! (Long Chapter)

    This was the spell Harry and Veratia had developed together, powered by the legendary Eternal Flame¡ªGubraithian Fire, an ancient magical fire.


    To master this flame, Harry had put in an unimaginable amount of effort and dedication.


    ¡°Protego Gubraithian (Flame Shield)!¡±


    Harry cast the incantation, and the flames blazed even brighter.


    This fire required no fuel and could burn forever!


    Voldemort¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he stared at Harry. He never would have imagined that a mere first-year student could wield such an advanced spell.


    The last time he had heard of a protective spell using fire was... during the confrontation with Grindelwald, the dark wizard defeated by Dumbledore.


    But Grindelwald¡¯s fire was Fiendfyre.


    And this Potter¡­ his fire was Gubraithian Fire.


    Gubraithian Fire, also known as the Eternal Flame, was a magically enchanted fire that could burn perpetually.


    It was a spell of exceptional complexity, mastered by only a few wizards.


    More importantly, it was not dark magic.


    This spell was so advanced that Hogwarts had no plans to include it in the curriculum, not even a century ago.


    Harry had learned to wield this fire only after studying a spellbook Cassandra had retrieved from the Malfoy family library.


    The idea of using Gubraithian Fire as a protective barrier? That had been Veratia ingenious concept.


    Using this eternal flame as an armor substitute proved extraordinarily effective.


    The Fiendfyre snake summoned by Voldemort writhed wildly, trying to breach Harry¡¯s fiery shield, but it couldn¡¯t budge it an inch.


    With the Philosopher¡¯s Stone as his backup, Harry¡¯s spell strength had reached unparalleled heights.


    The Stone¡¯s energy gradually diminished, and Harry felt an increasingly intense instinct rising within him, as if it was ready to burst free from his body.


    Following his instincts, Harry swung his wand, transforming a nearby stone pillar into a barrel of explosives that hurtled toward Voldemort.


    Voldemort¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he hastily conjured a protective shield, but the barrel exploded on impact, the shockwave forcing him back several steps.


    Seizing the opportunity, Harry cast a Disarming Charm at the staggering Voldemort.


    But Voldemort was no ordinary opponent. Even in this critical moment, the cunning dark wizard deftly deflected the spell and retaliated with Cruciatus Curse.


    The Gubraithian Fire surged, consuming the incoming curse entirely.


    Harry waved his wand again, and thunder began to rumble ominously overhead.


    ¡°What kind of spell is this?!¡± A sense of foreboding gripped Voldemort as he retreated quickly, but the thunderclap followed him relentlessly, as if attached to him.


    With no other choice, Voldemort reinforced his defenses above him.


    Unfortunately, he was merely a fragmented soul, occupying Quirrell¡¯s lifeless body, incapable of wielding even a tenth of his original power.


    The ominous feeling in Voldemort¡¯s heart grew stronger. He fired an Avada Kedavra, taking the chance to escape Quirrell¡¯s body and dissolve into black smoke.


    In that instant, a blinding bolt of lightning struck from above, hitting Quirrell squarely.


    Quirrell¡¯s scorched body turned jet-black, as though it had been electrocuted with high voltage.


    Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort¡¯s soul fragment, intending to cast a spell, but an ominous premonition made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.


    He instinctively rolled to the ground just as a voice echoed:


    ¡°Avada Kedavra!¡±


    The deadly green light narrowly missed Harry, striking the ground harmlessly.


    Harry quickly turned, but Voldemort¡¯s fragment seized the moment to escape in a whirlwind of dark smoke.


    Scanning the area, Harry couldn¡¯t determine the origin of the attack.


    Who had cast that Killing Curse?


    The mysterious assailant made no further move, leaving Harry tense. He raised his wand, expanding the Gubraithian Fire¡¯s protective field.


    ¡°Revelio!¡±


    Nothing. No signs of any hostile presence.


    At that moment, the Philosopher¡¯s Stone¡¯s energy was fully absorbed.


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    A wave of dizziness overtook Harry as he stumbled and collapsed onto Quirrell¡¯s remains.


    The moment Harry¡¯s body touched Quirrell¡¯s, the professor¡¯s charred remains crumbled into dust.


    Before losing consciousness, Harry used his last ounce of strength to hurl the dark wizard¡¯s wand into the fire.


    Though Harry¡¯s Gubraithian Fire remained active, he had no idea the attacker had already left the chamber.


    Meanwhile, Voldemort wasn¡¯t as fortunate. After escaping the chamber and reaching the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he collided with a ghostly beauty with flowing black hair¡ªa Slytherin specter.


    A sense of familiarity struck Voldemort, but he couldn¡¯t recall where he had seen her before.


    The specter pounced on his smoky soul form without warning, tearing away a large fragment of his soul.


    ¡°You¡­ who are you?!¡± Voldemort demanded in disbelief.


    The specter didn¡¯t answer. After ripping away three more pieces of his soul, she finally smirked and beckoned to her side.


    A notebook materialized¡ªone Voldemort recognized all too well.


    ¡°No¡­ How is this possible?!¡±


    That notebook was his!


    Years ago, after learning of Cassandra¡¯s deeds from Abraxas Malfoy, Voldemort had disguised his Horcrux diary with a feminine appearance, signing it as ¡°C.C. Malfoy¡± to ensure the Malfoy estate safeguarded it without suspicion.


    He had also given Lucius Malfoy a duplicate diary to keep, trusting his most loyal servant to protect it.


    But why¡­ was the real Horcrux here?


    Before he could process it, the specter compressed his smoky soul and forced it into the diary.


    ¡°Oh no¡­ I¡¯ve become a Horcrux!¡±


    This was Voldemort¡¯s final thought before losing consciousness.


    The notebook reverted to its original, worn-out state and vanished silently in a swirling vortex.


    ----


    When Harry opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a pair of half-moon spectacles.


    It was Dumbledore, smiling warmly at him.


    "Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully.


    "Professor," Harry replied, looking around.


    He was lying on a hospital bed covered with crisp white linen. On the bedside table, gifts were stacked high, resembling a small mountain, as though half a candy shop had been relocated there.


    To his left lay Seamus and Ron, both still unconscious.


    "All gifts from your friends and admirers," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "Your act of stopping Professor Quirrell in the dungeon was meant to be a complete secret, but, as secrets often do, it spread rapidly. Now the whole school knows about it. By the way, I hear Fred and George were going to give you a toilet seat as a gift."


    "They meant it as a joke, of course, but Madam Pomfrey deemed it unhygienic and confiscated it," Dumbledore added.


    Harry couldn''t help but laugh. He couldn''t quite figure out what purpose a toilet seat could serve as a gift¡ªperhaps it really was just for laughs.


    "How long have I been here?" Harry asked.


    "Just one night," Dumbledore replied, still smiling. "I thought you might be out for quite a while, but you woke up before those two." He nodded toward Ron and Seamus.


    "But Quirrell..." Harry frowned, not finishing his sentence.


    He wanted to ask if Dumbledore knew how Quirrell had died, but he felt a little hesitant.


    Dumbledore smiled gently. "It seems the flame protections I left behind were of some use, at least in keeping you safe. Also, I must admit, I had to conjure a broomstick to sweep up Professor Quirrell''s remains."


    "What exactly happened?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.


    "Love," Dumbledore said softly. "Your mother sacrificed herself to save you. If Voldemort doesn¡¯t understand something, it¡¯s love. He failed to realize that such profound love, like your mother¡¯s for you, would leave a mark on you."


    "A mark?" Harry repeated, puzzled. "You mean my scar?"


    "No, not a visible scar," Dumbledore explained. "Being deeply loved by someone, even if that person is no longer with us, leaves a protective charm. It¡¯s hidden in your skin. That¡¯s why Quirrell couldn¡¯t touch you. His soul was consumed by hatred, greed, and ambition, and bound to Voldemort¡¯s will. Touching someone marked by such love would cause him unbearable pain."


    Harry froze for a moment, stunned.


    No wonder...


    No wonder Veratia had mentioned that he had a powerful protective spell on him, making the Cruciatus Curse ineffective. At first, he thought she simply couldn¡¯t bring herself to use the curse on him, but it turned out she was telling the truth.


    For the first time in his life, Harry felt his mother¡¯s presence so close to him.


    "Mom..." he murmured, tears slipping silently from the corners of his eyes.


    Dumbledore said nothing, pretending instead to take a keen interest in a bird outside the window.


    Taking the opportunity, Harry wiped his tears and pushed down the lump in his throat. He turned back to Dumbledore.


    "I heard Voldemort say that Professor Quirrell once sought your help, but you ignored him?"


    Dumbledore shook his head. "I¡¯m sorry, Harry. Even as headmaster of Hogwarts, there are things I cannot do. Quirrell willingly devoted himself to Voldemort. Even if he had a moment of regret, it was likely part of some greater scheme. I¡¯m glad you asked, but even if his remorse had been genuine, I couldn¡¯t have helped him. His fate was sealed the moment he chose to side with Voldemort."


    "I understand, Professor," Harry said sincerely, nodding.


    Having learned about the cunning nature of dark wizards, he couldn¡¯t summon any misplaced compassion. If Dumbledore had believed Quirrell, he doubted the headmaster would have become the greatest white wizard of all time.


    "And the Philosopher¡¯s Stone?" Harry asked. "I felt its energy entering my body... Professor, is the stone safe?"


    "Oh, the Philosopher¡¯s Stone..." Dumbledore patted Harry¡¯s shoulder. "It¡¯s no longer usable. I should remind you, absorbing all of the stone¡¯s energy should have caused you to explode¡ªliterally."


    "But I¡¯m alive and well, aren¡¯t I?" Harry grinned, showing no trace of worry.


    "I believe so. More than that, I suspect the protective charm your mother left absorbed the stone¡¯s energy. I also have a feeling that your protection has grown even stronger," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "She was a brilliant witch, and only someone like her could master such advanced ancient magic."


    Harry exhaled subtly, relieved that Dumbledore¡¯s interpretation had saved him from a lot of trouble.


    "Don¡¯t you know how, Professor?" Harry asked, tilting his head innocently.


    "Without the innate gift for ancient magic, it¡¯s impossible to learn," Dumbledore replied, a gleam of wisdom flashing behind his half-moon spectacles.


    Harry couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the headmaster had discerned something.


    Remembering the Flamels, Harry asked, "What about the stone... and Mr. Flamel?"


    "Don¡¯t worry. Nicolas has plenty of Elixir of Life stored up," Dumbledore said, winking. "Besides, we planned to destroy the stone after all this was over, so there¡¯s nothing to worry about."


    "One last question, Professor," Harry said, after a moment of thought. "I feel as though you intentionally guided me to the dungeons... to confront Professor Quirrell¡ªor rather, Voldemort?"


    "Harry..." Dumbledore¡¯s eyes flickered with surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected such a direct question.


    Placing a hand on Harry¡¯s shoulder, he said, "Harry, when Voldemort returns, everyone has two choices: submit to his reign of terror or die resisting it."


    "But you, Harry¡ªover a decade ago, you humiliated him and reduced him to living as a parasite on the back of someone¡¯s head. Believe me, he¡¯s not one to forgive and forget. You, alone in this world, have no choice."


    "I understand, Professor," Harry said firmly, nodding.


    "That¡¯s enough questions for now," Dumbledore said, standing up and picking up a box of Bertie Bott¡¯s Every Flavor Beans. "I suggest you start enjoying these sweets."


    "Ah, Every Flavor Beans! I had terrible luck with them in my youth¡ªbit into a vomit-flavored one and haven¡¯t been a fan since. But surely, a toffee-flavored one can¡¯t go wrong, wouldn¡¯t you agree?"


    "I¡¯d recommend picking another," Harry said earnestly.


    Dumbledore, obliging, returned the bean and selected a new one.


    "Ah, chocolate. Quite pleasant," he said with a smile.


    ----


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 Chapter 93: The Maps Hidden Chamber, Reunion (1)

    Harry remained in the school hospital for three days before Madam Pomfrey finally allowed him to leave.


    During that time, many people came to visit him, only to be sternly turned away by Madam Pomfrey.


    Seamus and Ron regained consciousness that same afternoon and also stayed in the hospital for three days, leaving together with Harry.


    Had it not been for his two friends accompanying him, those days would have been utterly miserable.


    Upon returning to the common room, Harry was welcomed like a hero.


    "Potter is our Lion King!"


    That was the Weasley twins stirring up the crowd, with Fred being the loudest of them all.


    Every young boy and girl harbors a longing for heroic tales.


    And in Gryffindor¡ªwhere courage is the highest virtue¡ªHarry''s solo effort in stopping Professor Quirrell¡¯s scheme was precisely the kind of feat that the house revered.


    Perhaps it was Dumbledore¡¯s intention, but those who spread the story did not mention Voldemort¡¯s involvement, only Quirrell¡¯s role in the events.


    But even that was enough to cause a stir¡ªafter all, he was a professor!


    A first-year student, with the help of his friends, managed to overcome the obstacles set by Hogwarts professors, and in the end, faced Quirrell alone, successfully thwarting his plot...


    The Boy Who Lived indeed lived up to his name!


    It wasn¡¯t just Gryffindor students celebrating¡ªseveral students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were also in the common room.


    Cedric Diggory, leading a group of his fellow Hufflepuffs, joined in the applause for Harry.


    "Harry! Well done!"


    Harry, however, did not let the overwhelming praise get to his head, nor did he indulge in arrogance.


    He raised both hands, signaling everyone to pause.


    As his classmates looked at him in confusion, wondering what he was about to do, Harry began to speak.


    "Everyone, thank you for your support, but I didn¡¯t make it to the end on my own. I had friends who stood by me and helped me along the way. It was their support that brought me to the finish line."


    The room fell silent as the students eagerly awaited Harry¡¯s next words.


    "First, Hermione Granger!" Harry beckoned Hermione forward, and she stepped up beside him.


    "If it weren¡¯t for Hermione figuring out how to get past the three-headed dog and using a spell to play the harp and lull it to sleep, we wouldn¡¯t have even made it through the first door¡ª"


    Cheers erupted at Harry¡¯s words, and the crowd chanted Hermione¡¯s name.


    "Granger! Granger!"


    "Hermione! I knew you were amazing!" Lavender called out excitedly.


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    Hermione¡¯s face turned bright red, her prominent front teeth making her smile resemble that of an overjoyed beaver.


    Once the applause settled, Harry grabbed Neville, who was attempting to sneak away, and pulled him to the front, slinging an arm around his shoulders.


    "And let¡¯s not forget Neville Longbottom! It was he who discovered the weakness of the Devil¡¯s Snare, allowing us to pass the first challenge!"


    "Longbottom! Longbottom!" The crowd roared, their applause filling the entire common room.


    Neville bit his lip, his eyes reddening as he looked around at his classmates cheering for him so sincerely.


    All his life, he had lived under the pressure of his family¡¯s expectations, even believing at one point that he was a Squib.


    But now... was he truly worthy of such applause?


    "Neville, do you see?" Harry said loudly. "You are amazing!"


    "Neville is amazing!" Ron clapped enthusiastically, shouting his support.


    "Neville is amazing!" The others joined in, and the atmosphere grew even more fervent.


    "Thank you, thank you, Harry!" Neville could no longer hold back his emotions. He hugged Harry tightly, tears streaming down his face.


    Harry coughed a few times, pretending to struggle as he shouted, "Alright, Merlin, Neville! If you squeeze any harder, you¡¯ll wring out last night¡¯s dinner!"


    Neville immediately released him, and when he saw Harry wink at him, he finally broke into a smile through his tears.


    "And then we have Seamus Finnigan!" Harry pulled the excited Seamus forward. "Seamus used a spell to destroy the Devil¡¯s Snare and bravely stepped up at a crucial moment, securing our victory!"


    "Finnigan! Finnigan!" The crowd cheered and applauded.


    Seamus grinned widely and waved his hands enthusiastically before pulling out his wand. "Anyone want to see me cast the spell that destroyed the Devil¡¯s Snare?"


    "Oh no, please, Seamus, don¡¯t¡ª"


    His classmates shouted in unison.


    Everyone burst into laughter, and Seamus, realizing they were just teasing, tucked his wand away with a chuckle.


    Once the applause settled, Harry finally pulled Ron forward.


    "And last but not least, Ron Weasley! You are the greatest chess player I have ever seen. You took to the board yourself, battled through the game, and in the critical moment, you and Seamus made the ultimate choice to secure our chance at winning. I have to say, Ron, you are the bravest person I have ever met¡ªa true Gryffindor!"


    "Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!"


    The crowd erupted into wild cheers. The image of Ron stepping onto the chessboard, engaging in the battle, and ultimately sacrificing himself in the game was a testament to his extraordinary courage.


    If he wasn¡¯t a true Gryffindor, then who was?


    "Oh, little Ronniekins, little Ronniekins, oh, oh!" The twins wiggled their hips in a ridiculous dance, mimicking Veela cheerleaders at a Quidditch match, showing no shame whatsoever.


    "That¡¯s my brother! My youngest brother!" Percy proudly declared from within the cheering crowd, his face radiating happiness and pride.


    Such a scene was something Ron had only ever seen in his dreams.


    And in the Mirror of Erised.


    Yet now, it had become reality.


    He snapped out of his daze and turned to embrace Harry tightly.


    "Harry, is this real?"


    "Of course, it¡¯s real." Harry chuckled, patting Ron¡¯s back. "Come on, we still have a celebration to enjoy!"


    Ron released him and nodded firmly.


    It wasn¡¯t just his dream coming true¡ªit was also the joy of having a friend like Harry.


    Among the cheering crowd, the loudest voices didn¡¯t come from Gryffindor.


    They came from Hufflepuff.


    The Hufflepuff students especially admired Harry¡¯s humility, his refusal to take all the credit, and his unwavering loyalty to his friends.


    These qualities were rare and embodied the very essence of Hufflepuff House.


    So they cheered for the Boy Who Lived with all their hearts.


    "Alright, everyone!" Harry called out. "Let¡¯s raise our glasses to our friends and their courage!"


    "Cheers!" The students shouted enthusiastically.


    The celebration lasted from morning until evening, with Ron and Seamus recounting their adventure over and over again, along with the things they had learned from Dumbledore.


    Even when it finally ended, no one wanted to leave.


    After all, how often do you get to witness the adventures of the Boy Who Lived and his friends firsthand at Hogwarts?


    Cedric, while drinking his butterbeer, seemed to want to say something to Harry several times but hesitated each time, ultimately remaining silent.


    Harry didn¡¯t notice Cedric¡¯s hesitation. He was too caught up in the joy of celebrating with his friends.


    And he had every reason to be happy¡ªhe could now use Ancient Magic, which meant the hidden chamber of the map was finally open to him.


    ----


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 Chapter 94: The Maps Hidden Chamber, Reunion (2)

    As the meeting adjourned, Harry and Ron, along with the others, made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.


    Hagrid was already there, waiting. The moment he saw Harry, he rushed over, sat beside him, and grabbed his hand, tears streaming down his face.


    ¡°It¡¯s all¡ªmy¡ªfault!¡± he sobbed, covering his face with his large hands. ¡°I told that scoundrel how to get past Fluffy! I told him! He knew everything¡ªexcept that one thing... and I just had to go and tell him! You almost died! And all for a dragon¡¯s egg! I¡¯m never drinking again... I should be thrown out, live as a Muggle forever!¡±


    Harry understood his big friend¡¯s straightforward nature. Hagrid was an open book, incapable of keeping secrets, especially against someone as skilled in Legilimency as their enemy. It wasn¡¯t his fault.


    ¡°Hagrid,¡± Harry said softly, embracing him gently. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. That man is the most ruthless and cunning Dark wizard of this century. Even if you hadn¡¯t told him, he would have found out some other way.¡±


    ¡°But you nearly died...¡± Hagrid sniffled, grabbed a rag from the table, and blew his nose loudly.


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t, did I? And his plot was stopped.¡± Harry smiled and then leaned in to whisper in Hagrid¡¯s ear. ¡°And because of that, I even got a few gifts. My classmates are all celebrating me. I quite like this feeling.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Hagrid broke into a smile, wiping his tears. ¡°That reminds me, I have a gift for you too!¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Harry asked, intrigued.


    ¡°Of course. Here, have a look.¡± Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out what looked like a book, its cover ornate and finely crafted.


    Harry took it and gently opened it. Inside, it was filled with moving wizard photographs.


    His father. His mother. Each page held pictures of them, smiling and waving at him.


    Hagrid said softly, ¡°I sent letters to your parents¡¯ old friends, asking for photos... I know you don¡¯t have any of them... Do you like it?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Hagrid.¡± Harry reached out and ran his fingers tenderly over the album. ¡°I love it... I really do.¡±


    It was the first time he had ever seen so many photos of his parents.


    Hagrid didn¡¯t disturb him any further. He quietly said his goodbyes and left.


    Harry remained seated, flipping through the album over and over, unwilling to close it.


    It was only when Ron reminded him that dinner was being served that he finally shut the album and carefully tucked it into his robes.


    He intended to treasure it forever.


    That night, when he returned to the Gryffindor common room, he carefully placed the album in the safest part of his trunk.


    ¡°Harry, it¡¯s already ten o¡¯clock. Aren¡¯t you going to sleep?¡± Ron yawned, having just finished a game of Wizard¡¯s Chess with Seamus.


    Ever since he had been used as a piece himself, Seamus had developed a fascination for the game.


    ¡°I feel like taking a walk. I¡¯m not sleepy yet,¡± Harry told Ron. ¡°You go ahead and sleep. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±


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    ¡°You didn¡¯t eat much at dinner, did you? If you¡¯re heading to the Hogwarts kitchen, it¡¯s near the Hufflepuff common room in the basement. The entrance is a pear-shaped door handle. You need to tickle it, and then the door will appear...¡± Ron mumbled sleepily.


    ¡°Got it, Ron,¡± Harry nodded.


    ¡°Alright then... goodnight,¡± Ron said as he rolled over and promptly fell asleep.


    Ah, the energy of youth¡ªfalling asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.


    Harry quietly stepped out and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself.


    Now that he had acquired the power of the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, it was time to visit the Chamber of Maps in the underground tunnels.


    His emotions were mixed¡ªexcitement and anticipation, but also fear that he might find nothing... or worse, something he didn¡¯t want to know.


    He made his way deep into the underground corridors of Hogwarts. With the Stone¡¯s power, he finally perceived the ancient magical disturbances in front of the entrance to the Chamber.


    It was a swirling mass of black and white mist, constantly churning, emitting an indescribable sound.


    Standing before it, Harry raised his wand and traced an archway in the air.


    With the guidance of ancient magic, the swirling mist obediently transformed into a shimmering archway. In its center, a watery veil rippled gently.


    Beyond the veil, the once-sealed entrance to the Chamber of Maps had vanished.


    This was the wonder of ancient magic.


    Only those born with the gift could see the hidden places concealed by such spells. For anyone else, no amount of effort would reveal them.


    Harry stepped through the watery veil. Just as he expected, the Chamber¡¯s doors were gone.


    He could finally enter the Chamber of Maps.


    Even after a hundred years, the chamber remained unchanged.


    Directly ahead of the entrance stood Veratia¡¯s book.


    Lifting his gaze, Harry looked towards the paintings on the walls.


    Four massive portraits hung side by side.


    Harry recognized them vividly. The first, on the far left, was Headmaster Niamh Fitzgerald. Next was Professor Charles Lockwood. The third was Professor Percival Pockham. The fourth¡ªwas empty.


    But as Harry looked at the rightmost portrait, he suddenly noticed something.


    It was no longer empty.


    A figure had appeared.


    And she was looking at him with a gentle gaze.


    ¡°Harry...¡±


    The girl was the first to speak. Her dazzling smile was as radiant as her hair.


    It was Ve¡ªVeratia Grindelwald


    ¡°Veratia?!¡±


    Harry stood frozen in shock.


    He had never expected that the girl he had been thinking about for so long had now become a portrait hanging in the Chamber of Maps.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time,¡± she said softly.


    ----


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 Chapter 95: The Past

    T/N: Apologies in advance. Before you continue reading, I¡¯d like to inform you that starting from Chapter 95, the word count per chapter will exceed 2,000 words, whereas previous chapters were average under 1,000 words. This means the chapters will be longer, and there may be some delays in updates. However, I will do my best to continue updating daily.


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    ---


    Harry''s throat burned as if pierced by needles.


    He had considered countless possibilities, but never in his wildest dreams did he expect that after opening the Map Chamber, he would be greeted by the portrait of a girl.


    "Veratia..."


    His voice was hoarse.


    "I think we should step away," Professor Rookwood, standing beside the portrait of Veratia, said irritably. "This Map Chamber again..."


    "Charles?" Headmaster Fitzgerald said softly. "Shut your mouth and come with us."


    Professor Rookwood shot Harry a disgruntled glance before turning to follow the two professors out of the portrait¡¯s vicinity.


    "I''ve been waiting for you for so long..." Veratia''s voice was gentle.


    "I..." Harry''s throat constricted, and for a long moment, he couldn''t say a word.


    After what felt like an eternity, he finally forced out a question, his voice tinged with sorrow.


    "Are you... are you alright?"


    "I suppose... I should be," Veratia said softly.


    Harry collapsed onto the ground.


    He truly couldn''t accept this reality.


    To him, Veratia was more than a close friend¡ªshe was like a mentor, an elder sister.


    Though their acquaintance had not been long, in this world, Veratia was probably the one person who could accept him unconditionally.


    "You..." Tears welled up in Harry¡¯s eyes. "You call this ¡®alright¡¯? Being trapped in a portrait..."


    "I think you''ve misunderstood, Harry," Veratia said with a faint smile, blinking mischievously. "I¡¯m not actually dead. I merely left some clues for you in this Map Chamber so you wouldn¡¯t lose your way searching for me... You know, time travel is an incredibly difficult adventure. Seeing you here now, I can only conclude... perhaps I am still trapped in Slytherin''s study."


    "Slytherin''s study?!"


    Harry¡¯s voice shot up by eight octaves. He leapt to his feet, exclaiming in urgency, "I''ll go save you right now!"


    "Harry!"


    Veratia called out, stopping him.


    "Listen to me first."


    Harry halted, and sensing that standing on the stairs put too much distance between them, he stepped forward, trying to get as close to Veratia as possible.


    "Since I haven¡¯t appeared in the present, it means the time magic formation is still missing a key component," Veratia said in a calm, measured tone. "You still need a few materials: an angel¡¯s feather, a dragon¡¯s heart, and a phoenix¡¯s tear..."


    "A dragon¡¯s heart is easy! Ron¡¯s brother, Charlie, is raising dragons in Romania," Harry said impatiently. "As for phoenix tears, Professor Dumbledore has a phoenix, so that¡¯s not a problem either... But what is an angel¡¯s feather? Do angels even exist?"


    "I have some angel feathers stored in a vault at Gringotts," Veratia said softly. "Also, there¡¯s a small sum of money there¡ªour shared funds."


    "I¡¯m not short on money anymore, Veratia," Harry said hurriedly.


    "Of course I know that. You¡¯re the famous heir of the Potter family, after all." Veratia smiled at him gently.


    "Wait¡ªhow do you know that?" Harry asked in confusion.


    A hundred years ago, the Potter family had never sought him out. After all, there were plenty of Muggles with the surname Potter, and they had assumed Harry came from the Muggle side, paying him little mind.


    Back then, Harry himself had no idea he belonged to the magical Potter lineage¡ªhe had always believed he was Muggle-born.


    How did Veratia know?


    "More importantly, I need to tell you about the final ingredient," Veratia interrupted his thoughts.


    "Oh... oh?" Harry scratched his head. "There¡¯s one more?"


    "The last material is a basilisk fang," Veratia said.


    "A basilisk?" Harry asked.


    Veratia explained in a gentle voice, "A basilisk is a giant venomous serpent, a creature bred by Dark wizards. According to legend, the infamous Herpo the Foul was the first to create one, by hatching a chicken¡¯s egg beneath a toad. This resulted in the creature known as the basilisk."


    "Basilisks are extremely dangerous. Their gaze can instantly kill any being that makes direct eye contact with them... Additionally, their venom is highly lethal and can destroy almost any living creature."


    "Then where can I find a basilisk?!" Harry demanded.


    "I¡¯m sorry, Harry, but I don¡¯t know," Veratia said softly.


    Harry ruffled his hair in frustration, feeling a wave of disappointment.


    So close. Even the legendary angel¡¯s feather was within reach, but the basilisk... it was nowhere to be found.


    Would he have to hatch a basilisk himself?


    How long would that take? Could Veratia hold on in Slytherin¡¯s study?


    "Relax, Harry. We¡¯ll find a way," Veratia reassured him, her voice as soothing as always.


    Hearing her gentle tone, Harry slowly felt his anxiety ease.


    After a long silence, he looked up and asked, "Veratia, earlier you said I was from the Potter family... you..."


    "Oh, that..." Veratia¡¯s expression suddenly turned slightly uneasy.


    She hesitated for a moment before saying, "This matter is connected to the ancient curse on you. If you knew... well, if you knew everything, you might see me differently."


    Harry¡¯s heart clenched with tension.


    "Why?" he asked.


    "I¡¯m sorry..." Veratia bit her lip. "It¡¯s best if you see for yourself... Over there, yes, that Pensieve behind you."


    Harry followed her gaze and sure enough, he saw a Pensieve.


    "Inside it lies your mother¡¯s memories," Veratia revealed in a shocking statement.


    "My mother?!" Harry asked in disbelief. "My mother... how did she end up in the Map Chamber?!"


    "Because she, too, was an heir to ancient magic, Harry," Veratia said softly. "Go on, look at her memories. Perhaps then, you¡¯ll understand everything... Or perhaps you¡¯ll blame me for it."


    "I never would, Veratia," Harry said firmly.


    With steady steps, he walked toward the Pensieve.


    "Take a look," Veratia said, her voice tinged with sorrow. "See your mother¡¯s memories..."


    Harry nodded and leaned forward, plunging his face into the Pensieve.


    Then¡ª


    He spiraled downward through icy darkness at breakneck speed.


    Before long, the darkness gave way to light.


    He found himself by the shores of the Black Lake, sitting next to a girl with a face covered in freckles, who was crying quietly.


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    Harry looked up, scanning the familiar Black Lake, but noticed subtle differences from the one he knew...


    Before he could dwell on it, he heard a voice he had often encountered in his dreams¡ª


    "Expelliarmus!"


    Harry looked up and saw a red-haired witch, gripping a wand in each hand.


    It was his mother, Lily.


    "Mom?" he blurted out instinctively.


    But Lily did not respond to him. Instead, she glared fiercely ahead like a lioness protecting her own¡ªher eyes locked onto a Slytherin student.


    "I want you to apologize, Mulciber!"


    "Filthy little Mudblood¡ª"


    Before the Slytherin boy could finish his sentence, Lily''s spell struck him squarely in the face, causing a large patch of greenish pustules to break out across his skin.


    The two Slytherins standing beside Mulciber immediately drew their wands, but the girl who had been crying moments before had already stepped up alongside Lily, joined by another girl.


    With Mulciber out of commission, the fight quickly turned against the Slytherins. In a just three-against-two confrontation, the remaining Slytherin students were soon hit by hexes¡ªone had his front teeth grow so long that he could no longer pronounce incantations, while the other''s mouth was sealed shut, his legs locked in place.


    "Pathetic¡­" Lily sneered, tossing Mulciber''s wand into the lake.


    The three Slytherins slunk away in disgrace.


    "Mary, I''m sorry¡­" Lily turned to the freckle-faced girl beside her, her expression filled with concern.


    "I''m fine, Lily." Mary forced a small smile. "You taught them a lesson for me, didn''t you?"


    But the other girl standing beside them suddenly spoke up. "You should be apologizing. Those two are friends of your greasy-haired Slytherin pal, aren¡¯t they? And you still hang around with people like that? Look at them¡ªthey''re practically Death Eaters already. What are you going to do when¡ª"


    "Marlene!" Mary cut her off sharply.


    "Oh, sorry." Marlene McKinnon realized she had gone too far. She shot Lily an apologetic look.


    Lily stood frozen in place, unsure of what to say. Of course, she knew those two were Severus Snape''s friends¡­


    Severus¡ªher childhood friend.


    She knew that he had long aspired to join the Death Eaters, that blood-purity-obsessed group. But she still clung to the bond they had shared as children, hoping¡ªpraying¡ªthat she could persuade him to turn back.


    But it was futile. Severus was resolute, diving headfirst into the ranks of the Death Eaters, his eyes burning red with ambition. He had even started studying the Dark Arts¡ªand had invited her to join him¡­


    She stood there in a daze. By the time she snapped out of it, Mary and Marlene had already left.


    Lily lifted her head and glanced at the sun hanging low in the sky. She took a deep breath through her nose, let out a long sigh, and walked forward.


    Harry quickly followed, desperate to stay with his mother a little longer.


    He trailed her along the lakeshore until she stopped beneath a towering beech tree, where a group of students had gathered.


    What he saw next stunned him.


    Pushing through the crowd behind his mother, Harry found himself face-to-face with several familiar figures¡ªpeople he had only ever seen in photographs.


    One of them looked strikingly like him. Aside from their different eye colors, he was practically a fifth-year version of Harry himself.


    It was his father¡ªJames Potter.


    And lying on the ground across from James was a figure even more unforgettable.


    His Potions professor¡ªSeverus Snape.


    Snape¡¯s mouth was covered in foamy soap bubbles, and he was retching violently, spitting out pinkish froth. In an instant, Harry understood why Professor McGonagall had warned him about using Scourgify on Draco Malfoy¡ªif Snape caught you, you''d be in for a very different kind of punishment.


    "Let him go!" Lily commanded loudly.


    At the sound of her voice, James spun around. His expression darkened, his usual confidence giving way to something more serious. He greeted her in an oddly measured tone: "Oh, Evans¡ªhow are you?"


    "Let him go," Lily repeated, her face contorted in unmistakable disgust as she glared at him. "What did he ever do to you?"


    "Well¡­" James put on an exaggerated look of deep thought. "Mainly, he exists. You know what I mean."


    The surrounding students burst into laughter. A tall, handsome boy standing beside James chuckled as well, while a shorter boy behind him joined in.


    But Lily didn¡¯t laugh.


    "You think you''re funny," she said icily. "But you''re just an arrogant, bullying lowlife, Potter¡­ I said, let him go!"


    "Tell you what, Evans¡ªgo out with me, and I''ll let him go," James said immediately. "Just one date, and I''ll never lay a finger on old Snivellus again."


    Behind him, the effects of the spell were beginning to wear off.


    Snape, still coughing up soapy bubbles, started inching toward his fallen wand.


    "If I had to choose between you and the giant squid, I''d still pick the squid!" Lily spat in disgust.


    "Bad luck, Prongs," the handsome boy said cheerfully. He turned toward Snape. "Oh dear¡ª"


    But it was too late. Snape had already snatched up his wand and aimed it at James.


    A flash of light shot out, and a deep gash appeared on James'' cheek, blood splattering onto his robes.


    James whirled around, wand raised. Another flash of light erupted, and Snape was hoisted upside-down into the air, his robes flipping over his head. His pale, stick-thin legs were exposed¡ªalong with a pair of nearly blackened underwear.


    The crowd roared with laughter. James and his two friends laughed the loudest.


    Lily¡¯s face twitched. From Harry¡¯s perspective, she seemed to let out a cold snort.


    But¡­


    Looking at Snape''s humiliation, Harry found himself unable to laugh.


    It reminded him too much of his own childhood¡ªof being cornered in his Muggle school while Dudley and his gang tormented him.


    Helpless. Surrounded. Mocked.


    The hardest thing in the world is to truly understand another¡¯s pain.


    "Put him down!" Lily demanded once more, pulling out her wand.


    "Careful, Evans¡ªI might have to hex you too," James warned, though he still relented and muttered the counter-curse.


    "You got lucky, Snivellus. Evans saved you," James sighed theatrically.


    But before he could say anything else, Snape cut him off.


    "I don''t need help from a filthy little Mudblood like her!"


    Harry slapped his forehead.


    Now he understood¡ªeverything made sense.


    Why, in his first year, when he had made up that story, Snape had reacted so explosively¡ªwhy he had even docked twenty points from his own House.


    The way Snape had glared at him then¡­ It was the same expression he wore now, his face dark with fury and shame.


    So this was it¡­


    That moment had haunted Snape for years.


    ----


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 Chapter 96: Eternal Love

    When Harry came back to his senses, Lily was already striding away, her steps decisive and unwavering.


    He didn¡¯t spare a glance at his father, who was still bullying Snape back where they stood. Instead, he turned and followed her.


    He had no desire to witness that scene any longer.


    His father¡¯s voice still rang in his ears.


    ¡°Ah, anyone want to see me strip down the greasy git¡¯s filthy underwear?¡±


    Following his mother all the way back to the castle, Harry soon realized that she was heading toward a place he knew all too well¡­


    His heart trembled violently, and he hurried forward to confirm his suspicion.


    Sure enough¡­


    It was the Map Chamber.


    He recalled Professor Dumbledore¡¯s words from before¡ªhis mother had used an ancient spell to cast a protection upon him¡­


    Could it be that his mother was also an inheritor of ancient magic?


    Lily stopped at the entrance of the Map Chamber, lifted the ancient magical symbol on the ground, and stepped inside.


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    A gentle voice sounded.


    ¡°Veratia¡­¡±


    The moment Lily entered the Map Chamber, it was as if all her defenses crumbled. No longer appearing strong as before, she fell to her knees, covering her face with both hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Lily?¡± Veratia¡¯s voice was soft and soothing.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡±


    Lily choked on her words, recounting everything that had just happened to Veratia.


    Before Veratia, Lily hid nothing¡ªnot even a shred of pretense. It was as if they were the closest of confidantes, with no secrets between them.


    ¡°I¡­ I endured the scorn of the entire school, yet I still considered him my best friend¡­¡± Lily wept, her voice trembling. ¡°His friends cursed mine, and yet he said it was their freedom to do so¡­ Everyone kept questioning why I would befriend someone like him. Everyone looked down on me for being a Muggle-born who dared to associate with Slytherins¡­¡±


    ¡°I drew my wand for him, but what did he do? He¡­ he called me a Mudblood. So this is what I am in his eyes? Something so lowly, so unworthy of being his friend¡­¡±


    Lily was truly heartbroken, her tears cascading like petals in the wind.


    ¡°Lily.¡± Veratia comforted her in a gentle voice. ¡°People lose their reason when they are consumed by rage. Perhaps it was just a moment of carelessness on Snape¡¯s part.¡±


    ¡°A moment of carelessness?¡± Lily choked. ¡°Even if it was unintentional, those words were far too cruel. What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong¡­?¡±


    ¡°You did nothing wrong, Lily.¡± Veratia¡¯s voice was warm. ¡°The ones at fault are those arrogant fools who believe their bloodline makes them superior¡­¡±


    Their voices gradually softened, and Harry could no longer make out their conversation.


    Once again, the world around him spun.


    When the scene stabilized, Harry found himself looking at an older version of his mother.


    Lily had shed some of her youthful innocence. She now exuded a confidence and radiance that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    ¡°Veratia!¡±


    She was greeting the girl in the portrait.


    ¡°Do you have something interesting to share with me?¡± Veratia¡¯s violet eyes curved into a smile, making her look breathtakingly beautiful.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been a little troubled lately¡ª¡± Lily stood before the portrait, her expression conflicted. ¡°You know, the Potter boy I always told you about¡ªhe just won¡¯t stop pursuing me. He even says he¡¯s willing to change anything for me¡­ that he can change everything¡­¡±


    Harry noticed that Veratia¡¯s expression froze for a brief moment.


    After a moment of hesitation, Veratia finally spoke. ¡°I think Potter is a very good choice¡­¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Lily lifted her head. ¡°Veratia, you can¡¯t just suggest I pick Potter just because your best friend also happens to be a Potter¡ª¡±


    ¡°A man who is willing to change for you¡ªwhat more could you possibly ask for?¡± Veratia seemed to sigh softly. ¡°Seize this opportunity. I believe Potter is sincere.¡±


    ¡°Alright¡ªI¡¯ll consider your suggestion¡­¡± Lily ran a hand through her fiery red hair.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a suggestion¡ªit¡¯s a prophecy.¡± Veratia¡¯s voice was gentle.


    Yet, despite her words, Harry noticed the way her fingers unconsciously played with her hair.


    That was her tell¡ªher sign of lying.


    Why¡­ why would she lie to his mother?


    ¡°Veratia!¡±


    Once again, the scene changed.


    Lily was now more mature. Her belly had a slight curve to it, exuding the gentle glow of impending motherhood.


    ¡°Lily, it looks like you¡¯re pregnant. Congratulations.¡±


    Veratia¡¯s voice was full of joy.


    ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m pregnant.¡±


    Lily placed a hand on her belly, sharing in the happiness.


    Veratia set the book she was holding onto the table in the portrait and said, ¡°I think this time, you¡¯ll have a boy¡­¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Lily asked with interest.


    ¡°Did you forget? I have the gift of prophecy.¡± Veratia twirled her hair between her fingers.


    ¡°Oh, sorry, I forgot.¡± Lily stuck out her tongue playfully before adding, ¡°If it¡¯s a boy¡­ I think¡­ I¡¯ll name him Harry. I still remember the stories you told me about ¡®Harry Potter¡¯¡ªyour dear friend, right? I hope my child will be just as strong as him.¡±


    ¡°He will be.¡± Veratia¡¯s smile was brilliant, as dazzling as her hair.


    Once again, the world spun.


    ¡°Wormy, Pads¡ª¡±


    Lily¡¯s voice rang out as she carried a large bowl filled with stewed beef.


    Little Harry sat on a stool nearby, clutching a baby bottle in his tiny hands.


    ¡°Merlin¡¯s beard, what is that smell?!¡± Lily set the bowl on the table and shouted in exasperation. ¡°James? Darling? How many times have I told you?! Close the door when you use the bathroom!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sweetheart¡ª¡± James¡¯ voice called from the other room. ¡°I¡¯m brewing a potion¡­¡±


    The man Lily called ¡°Pads¡± let out a hearty laugh. He pulled back the tiny toy broomstick he had been teasing little Harry with, then elbowed the stout man beside him and grinned. ¡°See? James¡¯ potion-making skills are still as catastrophic as ever.¡±


    The stout man burst into laughter, clutching his belly.


    ¡°Alright, you two.¡±


    Lily rapped the table, ordering, ¡°You¡ªPads, take out the trash. And you¡ªWormy, go to the Muggle market and buy some black pepper. We¡¯re out.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am!¡±


    The two men high-fived and cheerfully headed out.


    Harry watched as his mother returned to the kitchen, then used her wand to levitate a steaming pot of soup into the dining room.


    After setting it down, she called out again, ¡°James? Darling? Are you still brewing your potion?¡±


    To Harry¡¯s surprise, there was a rustling sound from the bathroom.


    James¡¯ muffled voice came through. ¡°No, sweetheart, I¡¯m using the toilet¡ª¡±


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    Harry couldn¡¯t hold back his laughter.


    He never imagined that his parents¡¯ daily life was this amusing.


    It seemed¡­ Lily had actually been raising three big children¡ªJames, Pads, and Wormy.


    --


    The scene swirled once again, and Harry found himself back in the Map Chamber with his mother.


    This time, the mother before him looked more worn than ever before, her face etched with exhaustion.


    "Veratia..."


    His mother¡¯s voice no longer carried the same vitality as usual; it was instead laced with weariness.


    "Long time no see, Lily," Veratia said lightly. "Your little Harry¡­ he must be nearly a year old now, right?"


    At the mention of "little Harry," Lily¡¯s tears spilled over instantly.


    Veratia looked flustered. It was only the second time Harry had ever seen such an expression on her face¡ªthe first being when he was struck by Ranrok¡¯s curse.


    "Veratia, Professor Trelawney made a prophecy." Lily knelt on the floor, looking utterly helpless. "She said that a child with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord has been born, a child from a family that has defied him three times¡ªborn at the end of the seventh month. The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have a power the Dark Lord knows not¡­ One must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives¡­ The child with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month ends."


    Veratia was momentarily stunned by Lily¡¯s words. Then she spoke again to confirm, "You¡¯re saying¡ªa prophecy? Professor Trelawney¡­ what¡¯s her relation to Cassandra Trelawney?"


    "She¡¯s the great-granddaughter of that Seer," Lily replied, wiping her tears. "And her prophecies¡­ are very accurate."


    "That should be a cause for celebration. Why are you crying?" Veratia asked.


    "Because¡­ because the prophecy somehow reached the Dark Lord, and he¡­ he¡¯s coming after us..." Lily sobbed.


    "Are you afraid?" Veratia asked.


    "No, I¡¯m not afraid to die. But Harry..." Lily¡¯s voice trembled with sorrow. "Harry isn¡¯t even a year old yet... How can a child possibly defeat the Dark Lord? One of them must die, but my poor Ha...rry... He¡­ he hasn¡¯t even had the chance to see the world, to learn wonderful magic, to play Quidditch¡ªoh, you should see him on a toy broomstick, he¡¯s adorable¡­ But¡­ how can fate be so cruel... how can it be so..."


    Seeing his mother so helpless, Harry couldn¡¯t hold back his own tears.


    No one could remain unmoved in the face of a mother¡¯s grief.


    Veratia fell silent for a long time.


    Just as Harry thought she might never speak again, she finally did.


    "Lily, we¡­ are descendants of ancient magic."


    Her voice was soft, yet unwavering.


    "I know that wretched Dark Lord used some form of Dark Magic to make himself invincible, but¡­"


    "But what?" Lily caught the shift in Veratia¡¯s tone, her eyes lighting up with hope.


    Veratia hesitated for a long time.


    Harry saw the struggle, the hesitation in her expression.


    "Veratia¡­" he murmured.


    "I know a spell. An ancient spell," Veratia said quietly. "This ancient magic¡­ not only can it transfer your ancestral magic to Harry, but it can also place a protective charm on him¡ªone that will forever shield him from the Cruciatus and Killing Curses, reflecting them back upon anyone who wishes him harm¡­"


    Hope flickered in Lily¡¯s emerald eyes.


    "Teach me, Veratia. I¡­ I¡¯m willing to learn¡­"


    A flicker of sorrow passed through Veratia¡¯s eyes.


    "Lily, you must understand¡­ this spell comes at a price¡­"


    Lily¡¯s expression was resolute. "Tell me. No matter what the price is, I will pay it¡ªas long as Harry can live a happy, healthy life."


    "You¡­"


    Veratia closed her eyes.


    "Are you truly willing to sacrifice¡­?"


    Harry saw the unwavering determination in his mother¡¯s face.


    "Anything!" she declared.


    Hearing Lily¡¯s words, Veratia nodded lightly.


    A terrible foreboding welled up in Harry¡¯s heart.


    Veratia¡¯s voice was calm, yet it trembled slightly.


    "This spell¡­ requires you to pay the price with your life. You must¡­ die in front of little Harry, as a sacrifice to activate the protection charm¡­"


    "No! Mom! Don¡¯t!"


    Harry shouted with all his might, but his voice never reached Lily¡¯s ears.


    "Veratia! Don¡¯t tell her! Don¡¯t teach her that spell!"


    But this was only a memory.


    Lily¡¯s expression remained unwavering as she firmly nodded and told Veratia, "I am willing. For Harry, I will give everything¡ªeven my life."


    Harry watched helplessly as his mother followed the movements of Veratia¡¯s painted form, engraving an ancient rune onto her arm. He cried out, trying desperately to stop her, but he was powerless against the memory.


    He reached out in vain, trying to pull her back, to halt her actions, but his hands grasped nothing but air.


    He would rather die himself than watch his mother sacrifice her life for his protection.


    The spell was complete. A violet glow shimmered across Lily¡¯s arm.


    "Thank you, Veratia."


    A radiant smile returned to Lily¡¯s face, and the vibrant young woman she had always been resurfaced.


    But then, she noticed that the Veratia within the painting had crouched to the ground.


    "I¡¯m sorry, Harry. I¡¯m so sorry¡­" she murmured.


    Lily didn¡¯t understand what she meant but spoke cheerfully, "Don¡¯t worry, Veratia, this is my choice. No matter what¡­ Harry will never blame you¡­ Oh! I¡¯ll store some memories in the Pensieve¡­"


    "I suggest you save more of them, so Harry¡­ can see you as much as possible. Include his father¡­ and your dearest friend," Veratia said softly.


    "Good idea."


    Lily smiled brightly. She walked over to the Pensieve, raised her wand to her temple, and drew out shimmering silver threads, dropping them into the basin.


    "Perhaps this is the last time we¡¯ll meet, Veratia," Lily said gently. "Thank you for everything you¡¯ve taught me¡­"


    "Professor¡­"


    Veratia¡¯s violet eyes looked at Lily, filled with sorrow.


    "Class dismissed," she whispered, voice trembling.


    "Goodbye, Veratia!"


    Lily raised her right hand high, waving enthusiastically, her face beaming with joy.


    Then, she turned around and walked towards the door with light, carefree steps.


    The memory ended abruptly.


    Harry emerged from the Pensieve, gasping for breath, gripping his robes tightly.


    The sound of footsteps still echoed in his ears, as if his mother had just walked out of the Map Chamber.


    ----


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 Chapter 97: Veratias Teaching

    Fragments of memory surged like a tidal wave, and he seemed to see scenes from his childhood.


    It was still that same house, those same people¡­


    His mother held bread and wine in her hands, distributing them to the guests.


    "Bug, have some more bread."


    Harry saw a complex expression in his mother''s eyes, something between a sigh and sorrow.


    "Perhaps¡­ you''ll never have the chance to eat bread baked by me again."


    He saw the chubby young man let out a sob and nod forcefully.


    The memory shifted again, and he heard his father¡¯s urgent shout.


    "Run! Lily! Run!"


    Then came the heavy sound of a body collapsing on the staircase.


    He sat in the cradle, facing his mother, who bore a resolute expression.


    "Harry, Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you. Mommy hopes you will live safely, healthily, and strongly¡­ Mommy loves you, my baby¡­"


    A voice, sharp and cruel like an owl¡¯s screech, rang out, and a green light filled the entire room.


    "Avada Kedavra!"


    It was unclear how much time had passed before he saw a young Snape walk into the room.


    When Snape saw Lily¡¯s lifeless body on the floor, he collapsed weakly, his expression shifting from disbelief to regret, and finally to utter despair.


    This was the first time Harry had seen Snape cry. Not even when his father had humiliated him by suspending him in the air had Snape shed tears¡­


    "No! Lily!"


    He clutched Lily¡¯s body, screaming in agony.


    Time blurred again, and Harry noticed that Snape had disappeared.


    From outside the door, another voice, filled with grief, called out.


    "Fork! Fork!"


    After a while, when it seemed the person had cried enough, Harry heard them stand up.


    "I will kill him! I will kill him!"


    ¡­


    "Harry! Harry!"


    Veratia¡¯s voice rang in Harry¡¯s ears.


    He came back to his senses, realizing that at some point, tears had covered his face.


    "I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry¡­" Veratia murmured. "Harry¡­ this was the only way I had¡­"


    Harry remained silent, the scene of Voldemort murdering his parents still Veratiad in his mind.


    Seeing Harry like this, Veratia felt helpless for the first time in her life.


    Just as she thought he would blame her, he spoke first.


    "Veratia, I don¡¯t blame you," he said. "In fact, if it weren¡¯t for your help, I wouldn¡¯t have survived¡­ My parents were no match for Voldemort."


    In the portrait, Veratia could no longer hold back her emotions. She covered her face and sobbed bitterly.


    "Perhaps this spell is also the reason I could travel through time," he mused. "If I hadn¡¯t studied at Hogwarts a hundred years ago, I wouldn¡¯t have met the friends of the Order of the Phoenix. A few days ago, when I faced Voldemort, I might have been killed¡ª"


    "And I wouldn¡¯t have met you," he added.


    For a moment, Veratia¡¯s eyes were as gentle as water.


    "Harry¡­"


    "The most urgent matter now is to rescue you," Harry said, lifting his head to look at Veratia. "I think I should move quickly¡ªdo you know where I can find a basilisk?"


    Veratia fell silent for a moment, seemingly in deep thought.


    After a long pause, she said, "Back when we were still at Hogwarts, I once heard someone in Hogsmeade mention that in Greece, people were breeding such creatures¡ªbut a hundred years have passed, and magical creature regulations have become stricter. I don¡¯t know where you¡¯d find a basilisk now."


    Hearing this, Harry recalled that back in Hogsmeade, the villagers had indeed discussed basilisks, and even the newspapers had reported on them at the time.


    He hadn¡¯t paid much attention back then. After all, he was just a Gryffindor, with no particular fascination with snakes¡ªdespite being a Parselmouth.


    Speaking of discovering his Parseltongue abilities, it was connected to Ominis. For that reason, Ominis had even dragged Harry to test his blood to see if he was a lost descendant of the Gaunt family.


    It wasn¡¯t that he wanted Harry to acknowledge his ancestry. Given the twisted atmosphere of the Gaunt family, Ominis didn¡¯t want Harry to be involved¡ªhe just longed for a somewhat normal brother.


    The results had left him somewhat disappointed yet also relieved. But from then on, he and Harry had grown much closer.


    Harry nodded in understanding. "I see. Leave this to me¡ªdon¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll see each other again soon."


    "Mhm." Veratia then asked, "How is everyone else? You know, I left school not long after you disappeared, so I have no news of them."


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    "No¡­ I¡­ I only know that Gareth has passed away," Harry said dejectedly.


    "Time is the cruelest force," Veratia seemed to lament.


    Suddenly, Harry said, "Oh, right, Veratia! I saw Poppy! Do you remember¡ªPoppy Sweeting from Hufflepuff?"


    "Of course I remember. She was the one who helped hang my portrait in the Map Chamber," Veratia said softly.


    "But¡­ she doesn¡¯t seem to be doing well. When I saw her, she was being chased by Voldemort. I was the one who saved her¡ª"


    As he spoke, he recalled that Poppy was now a unicorn and told Veratia, "Oh, right, Poppy learned magic Animagus. She turned into a unicorn and can¡¯t change back anymore¡­"


    There was a brief silence between them.


    "So she really used that spell¡­" Veratia looked at Harry with a complex expression. "I warned her long ago that transforming into a magical Animagus was dangerous. Even though unicorns are long-lived magical creatures, it¡¯s not something a mere human can easily achieve."


    "But she succeeded, didn¡¯t she?" Harry shrugged. "Though she can¡¯t turn back. That¡¯s quite a problem. When you return, we¡¯ll find a way to turn Poppy human again."


    "Alright." Veratia nodded. "I have a theory, but I need to see Poppy first to confirm it."


    "I knew it¡ªyou always have a way." Harry smiled again.


    Seeing Veratia felt so good. Harry felt like his intelligence had returned¡ªthough it was technically borrowed intelligence.


    Before meeting Veratia, their friend group¡¯s "external brain" had been Sebastian¡­ But Sebastian¡¯s so-called "brilliant ideas" (as Ominis put it) often had a way of landing them all in Azkaban.


    "Oh, right, Harry," Veratia spoke again. "Your wand¡ªholly, phoenix feather, eleven inches¡ªis placed behind my portrait. It¡¯s also the key to our vault at Gringotts."


    Harry stood up and walked over, examining Veratia¡¯s portrait up close. He reached out and touched it.


    Unlike the real Veratia, the portrait felt rough and cold.


    "Hurry up and take your wand!" Veratia huffed, her face flushing slightly. "This is just a portrait¡­"


    Harry¡¯s face reddened too. He hadn¡¯t meant anything by it¡ªhe just thought Veratia looked¡­ lonely, yes, lonely!


    Hurriedly, he retrieved his wand from behind the portrait, but he noticed that the tip now had a blood-red gemstone, with red vein-like patterns spiraling down to the base.


    "What happened? Why does my wand look like this?" Harry asked in curiosity.


    He remembered that the last time he had used his holly wand, it hadn¡¯t been like this.


    ¡°After you left, the wand was stuck in Ranrock''s corpse,¡± Veratia said, still holding the book in her arms. ¡°By the time I pulled it out, it had already become like this¡ªthis is the Gringotts token. But I must warn you, when the goblins see this wand... they might have a bit of a bad reaction.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Harry waved the wand, feeling his old friend vibrating joyfully in his hand.


    He paid little attention to what Veratia had just said. Just a small ¡°bad reaction¡±¡ªnothing to worry about. The goblins at Gringotts had seen all sorts of things; they surely wouldn¡¯t mind.


    Tucking the wand into his robes, Harry leaned against a rock, intending to chat with Veratia for a bit to ease his not-so-calm thoughts.


    Casually, he said, ¡°By the way, Veratia, have you heard about Gellert?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Veratia asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡ªum.¡± Harry organized his thoughts before speaking to Veratia. ¡°It¡¯s about... our current headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore. In 1945, he defeated your brother, Gellert, and imprisoned him in Nurmengard Castle...¡±


    ¡°Oh, that? I¡¯ve heard about it,¡± Veratia said with a sweet smile. ¡°My foolish little Gell... To think he was actually defeated, and his story even ended up on a Chocolate Frog card. The Grindelwald family''s reputation has been completely disgraced!¡±


    Though she was smiling, Harry, who knew her well, could tell she was furious.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Harry asked curiously. ¡°How do you know about things from the outside world?¡±


    Veratia lowered her gaze to him and said, ¡°Of course, it was Lily who told me. After she first entered the Map Chamber, I asked her about many things happening outside...¡±


    Harry suddenly felt his throat go dry.


    He realized that, to send him messages and wait for his return, this girl had infused her own memories into the portrait. More than a hundred years had passed.


    His days with the Dursleys had felt endless. He couldn¡¯t begin to imagine the loneliness Veratia had endured in this chamber.


    ¡°Veratia,¡± he said, ¡°a hundred years in the Map Chamber... it must have been unbearable, right?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t too bad,¡± Veratia replied lightly. ¡°Waiting may be tedious, but the moment you see results, you realize the wait wasn¡¯t in vain.¡±


    After a pause, she added, ¡°This portrait is merely a copy of my memories. To the me in the Slytherin study, all of this was just a fleeting moment.¡±


    ¡°But...¡± Veratia suddenly gave a dangerously sweet smile. ¡°You must remember to tell that version of me about Gellert.¡±


    ¡°Uh? What do you mean?¡± Harry felt a chill run down his spine.


    A very bad feeling crept over him. A very, very bad feeling.


    The last time Veratia had smiled so gently yet so dangerously was when he and Sebastian secretly learned the Cruciatus Curse.


    Before bringing him to the Slytherin study, she had smiled like this the entire way.


    And when they arrived at the study, Veratia had made him use the Cruciatus Curse on her.


    [No, Veratia, I can¡¯t...]


    [Only by casting the Cruciatus Curse on me can we unlock the Slytherin study¡ªotherwise, we¡¯ll both be trapped here.]


    [Crucio!]


    The girl before him let out a muffled groan, and the searing pain of the curse surged into Harry''s mind as well.


    No, there was nothing enjoyable about this...


    Harry saw that, under the torment of the curse, blood had already seeped from the corner of the girl¡¯s lips.


    [Veratia, I...¡ª]


    Before Harry could finish speaking, he saw Veratia suddenly lift her head, her gaze piercing into him, a wild, almost frenzied smile curling at her lips.


    [Harry Potter¡ªthe feeling of inflicting pain... isn¡¯t it just wonderful? Hahaha...]


    She grabbed Harry''s collar, her other hand trembling yet firm as she grasped the hand holding his wand and pressed it against her throat.


    The delicate curve of her neck now bore a slight indentation from the wand¡¯s tip.


    [Keep going,] she said. [Salazar never taught you the true essence of the Cruciatus Curse, but I will.]


    [Me.]


    Ever since then, Harry had never dared to use the Cruciatus Curse again¡ªexcept in the Forbidden Forest that one time, and that had been to transfer pain.


    ¡°Harry? Harry?¡±


    Hearing Veratia call his name, Harry snapped out of his daze.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he murmured, rubbing his temples, which had begun to ache.


    Veratia''s tone was gentle. ¡°Of course, I must go visit my foolish little brother¡ªand, of course, the headmaster who defeated him. I am quite eager to see just how powerful the wizard who bested Gellert truly is.¡±


    Harry shuddered, a wave of sympathy rising in his heart.


    Not just for Dumbledore, but also for Grindelwald.


    Well... at least Dumbledore was better off. Harry felt that the headmaster, as the world¡¯s most powerful white wizard, with a century of battle experience, surely wouldn¡¯t be troubled by Veratia.


    But Grindelwald... he was doomed.


    As a younger brother, he couldn¡¯t possibly throw spells at his sister whom he hadn¡¯t seen in over a hundred years, could he?


    Harry could already envision old Grindelwald getting thoroughly beaten by his sister. That would be... well...


    Alright, hopefully, his seventeen-year-old sister would take pity on her now century-old little brother and not shatter his brittle old bones.


    ¡°Harry?¡± Veratia¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°What dangerous thoughts are you having?¡±


    ¡°Oh? Ah?¡± Harry snapped back to reality. ¡°Nothing, nothing at all.¡±


    ¡°Wipe that weird smile off your face. I can see it.¡± Veratia reminded him.


    ¡°Oh, hehe.¡± Harry scratched his head, smiling sheepishly.


    Veratia lowered her gaze to the Hogwarts panorama beneath the Map Chamber and issued a gentle dismissal. ¡°It¡¯s getting late, Harry. You should return to your dormitory and get some rest.¡±


    ¡°I want to stay with you a little longer,¡± Harry said, reluctant to leave.


    ¡°I¡¯ll still be here, I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± Veratia said with a laugh. ¡°But you¡ªyou¡¯re just a twelve-year-old kid. I heard that staying up late can stunt a child¡¯s growth. Do you want to be shorter than me?¡±


    Harry recalled Veratia''s nearly six-foot-tall stature and quickly stood up. ¡°Alright, Veratia, I¡¯ll go to bed now...¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Veratia nodded at him.


    Watching Harry''s retreating figure, Veratia suddenly pondered a serious question.


    Harry had returned to being twelve, restarting his first year at Hogwarts¡ªbut the her in the study was still a seventeen-year-old sixth-year student.


    This...


    ----


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 Chapter 98: You Got Dumped by Cassandra!

    Harry naturally hadn¡¯t given that matter much thought. He tiptoed back to the Gryffindor common room, planning to get a good night¡¯s sleep.


    The next morning, it was still Potions class.


    But now, he finally understood why Professor Snape treated Gryffindor so harshly. His feelings toward Snape were complicated, to say the least.


    At the very least, that night, Snape had come.


    Hmm¡­ But who was the other person? The one calling out for his father¡­


    Rubbing his eyes, Harry failed to notice that Professor Snape was calling his name.


    ¡°Potter!¡± Snape narrowed his eyes, his tone full of displeasure. ¡°Do you think stopping Quirrell¡¯s scheme makes you some sort of hero? Gryffindor will lose two points for your inattentiveness!¡±


    Harry merely looked up and gave Snape a smile, but to his surprise, that single smile cost Gryffindor another three points.


    The reason? Arrogance.


    ¡°My god, he really is¡­¡±


    --


    After class, back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Harry complained about Snape.


    ¡°I think he just has it out for you,¡± Ron muttered.


    ¡°Yeah, he definitely does. Because I look like my dad.¡± Harry shrugged. ¡°Practically a carbon copy, except for the eyes.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± Hermione asked in confusion. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say your parents were good friends with Professor Snape? Why are you saying this now?¡±


    It was dinnertime, and with Seamus and Neville nowhere in sight, only the three of them remained in the common room.


    So Harry didn¡¯t bother keeping things a secret. He told them what his father had done.


    --


    ¡°Oh my.¡± Hermione¡¯s mouth fell open. ¡°Now I understand why Professor Snape hates Gryffindor so much. Honestly, if I were him, I¡¯d probably resent the entire house too¡­¡±


    ¡°You mean like how you hate Slytherin?¡± Harry gave Hermione a pointed look.


    Hermione didn¡¯t respond, tacitly admitting he was right.


    Ron didn¡¯t know what to say. After thinking for a long time, he finally blurted out something he probably shouldn¡¯t have: ¡°So what are you going to do? Apologize to him?¡±


    Harry rolled his eyes at that.


    ¡°Oh, sure, Ron. What do you expect me to do? Walk up to Professor Snape and say, ¡®Oh, Professor Snape, I¡¯m terribly sorry that my father hung you upside down while other students¡ªespecially my mother¡ªsaw your filthy, unwashed underwear that had turned black from dirt¡¯? Mate, do you think that¡¯s an apology or a provocation?¡±


    ¡°I have no doubt that if you said that, Gryffindor would lose ten thousand points.¡± Ron swallowed hard.


    At noon, Harry had taken a trip to the Forbidden Forest but hadn¡¯t been able to find Poppy.


    When he returned, Hermione informed him that she had been the one to tell Poppy about Harry fainting.


    Hermione had initially planned to bring some food for Poppy, but Poppy decided to come find Harry at the edge of the Forbidden Forest next week instead.


    Harry let out a sigh of relief. He had been worried something had happened to Poppy.


    --


    That morning¡¯s classes ended, ushering in the final exams.


    Final exams didn¡¯t allow students to bring their own quills and parchment; all supplies were provided by the professors, complete with anti-cheating enchantments.


    In addition to written tests, there were practical exams.


    For Charms, the tiny Professor Flitwick had students enter the classroom one by one to demonstrate whether they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk.


    Harry had a great time with that one¡ªnot only did he make the pineapple dance, but he also synchronized its movements perfectly to the rhythm of the record Professor Flitwick had put on.


    Transfiguration was another practical exam. Professor McGonagall watched as students transformed mice into snuffboxes¡ªthe more exquisite the box, the higher the grade. If the box still had whiskers, points were deducted.


    During Potions, students racked their brains to recall the proper procedure for brewing a Forgetfulness Potion.


    Snape loomed behind them, scrutinizing their every move. They could practically feel his breath on the backs of their necks, making them all incredibly nervous.


    Honestly, who wouldn¡¯t be tense with a giant, greasy-haired, black-cloaked bat hovering behind them?


    Nobody wanted to be subjected to one of his venomous outbursts¡ªespecially Harry, who felt like Snape was clinging to him like a ghostly specter.


    Finally, they reached their last exam.


    The weather was stiflingly hot. The classroom was even hotter than outside, and on top of that, the subject was History of Magic, making the whole ordeal feel even more unbearable.


    Harry and Hermione sweated over their exam papers, but to everyone¡¯s surprise, Ron¡ªwho usually had zero interest in History of Magic¡ªwas furiously scribbling away, his quill flying across the parchment.


    Even when the time came to hand in their papers, Ron was beaming.


    Why? Because the exam covered the Goblin Rebellions.


    After spending so much time around Harry, Hermione, and Poppy, and listening to endless stories, even a pig would have remembered some of Poppy¡¯s tales.


    Not to mention that the protagonist of those stories was Harry Potter¡ªthe person who shared a name with his best friend.


    His fondness for Harry had inadvertently made Ron pay extra attention in History of Magic.


    Lying on the grassy banks of the Black Lake, Ron took a deep breath, stretching out his arms and legs like he was swimming in the air. ¡°This is great¡ªno more studying!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, great indeed.¡±


    A lilting voice sounded nearby.


    ¡°Poppy!¡± Ron cheered.


    Harry sat up and turned to look at Poppy.


    ¡°Uh¡­ What are you doing?¡± he asked, watching in disbelief as Poppy bent down to nibble at the grass.


    ¡°Hermione said unicorns should eat some grass,¡± Poppy replied cheerfully, munching away.


    Hermione looked embarrassed. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that, Poppy¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s fine! I¡¯ve been eating this stuff in the Forbidden Forest for years, haha!¡± Poppy giggled, then trotted over to Harry, nudging against his chest. ¡°Harry, I heard you fainted! Did you really faint?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing serious, Poppy.¡± Harry reached out and rubbed Poppy¡¯s head. ¡°But now, I can finally remove the curse on your wound.¡±


    As he spoke, he drew his wand, pointed it at Poppy¡¯s still-bleeding wound, and chanted the dispelling incantation.


    Perhaps due to the immense magical energy from the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, the spell worked. Poppy¡¯s wound closed up completely, good as new.


    ¡°You did it!¡± Hermione cheered. She couldn¡¯t bear to see anyone suffer, not even a unicorn.


    ¡°Yay!¡± Poppy jumped up and down excitedly, then bent her legs and beckoned to Harry. ¡°Harry, Harry, hop on¡ª¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Harry was stunned.


    ¡°Come on¡ªlet¡¯s go for a ride!¡± Poppy said happily.


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    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Harry swung himself onto Poppy¡¯s back, waving at Hermione and Ron, who were watching with extreme envy.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon!¡±


    Unicorns ran so smoothly that there wasn¡¯t even the slightest bump¡ªcompletely different from what Harry had imagined.


    He wrapped his arms around Poppy''s neck and said to her, "Poppy, I found Veratia."


    "Huh?" Poppy stopped in her tracks. "Where? Where?"


    "The Map Chamber," he replied succinctly.


    "Oh, the Map Chamber." Poppy sounded a little disappointed. She told Harry, "The Veratia there is just a painting. I thought you actually brought her back..."


    "But now we have a lead, don''t we?" Harry said with a grin. "She even gave me the key to the vault. Inside, there''s a portion of the materials needed to summon her back... Oh, but I''m still missing something called a ''Basilisk Fang.'' Since you''re an expert on magical creatures, do you know where I can find one?"


    "A Basilisk?" Poppy shook her head. "I did hear that customs once confiscated a juvenile Basilisk, but it was destroyed long ago. If Cassandra were still around, she might have something from a Basilisk in her collection. I suppose... you could ask her descendants?"


    The moment she mentioned it, Harry immediately thought of Draco¡¯s notebook.


    He made up his mind to ask Draco about it when he got back¡ªhe needed to get to the bottom of that notebook.


    "But¡­ Cassandra, huh." Poppy whistled. "Do you remember our fourth year? That time you and Cassandra had that huge argument? I recall her mentioning that her family had a collection of rare magical creature artifacts."


    "Ah." Harry vaguely remembered.


    ---


    Back then, for some reason, Cassandra had gotten angry with him and ignored him for a long time.


    Harry had thought he¡¯d be thrilled¡ªafter all, that annoying, arrogant, insufferable Cassandra would finally give up on making him her lackey.


    But to his dismay, he found that his life suddenly felt... incomplete.


    That day, Harry spent hours in the underground training chambers, tirelessly practicing spells, trying to shake off that strange feeling.


    "Whoa!" Poppy gasped as she watched Harry furiously blasting apart a training dummy. "You''re really going all out!"


    The Hufflepuff girl beamed at him, radiating warmth like winter sunshine, as if her presence alone could dispel loneliness.


    "Don¡¯t distract me. I''m working on spell combinations¡ªgo over there." Harry waved her off impatiently.


    "Oh!" Poppy''s face lit up with realization. She clasped her hands behind her back, skipped over to Harry''s side, and cheekily popped her head into his view. "You got dumped! Cassandra dumped you!"


    "I did NOT!" Harry snapped instinctively. "I wasn¡¯t dumped¡ª"


    "Ohhh, so you abandoned her?" Poppy playfully bounced over to his other side, grinning mischievously. "Tell me, how does it feel to ditch a wealthy young lady?"


    Harry scowled and lashed out with another spell, blasting the training dummy apart.


    "Confringo!"


    "It''s nothing like what you''re imagining!" he huffed.


    "Hee hee, well then, while I''m still here, why don¡¯t you cry on my shoulder?" Poppy bent down, propped one hand on her knee, and tapped her shoulder with the other. "Here¡ªshoulder, all yours!"


    "Cry? About what?!" Harry demanded.


    "Come on, it''s Christmas!" Poppy straightened up, tilting her head as she clasped her hands behind her back. "Everyone in your dormitory has gone home, right? When you return and find yourself all alone, then what? You¡¯ll end up hiding under the covers and crying¡ªway more pathetic than if you just do it now."


    Harry lowered his wand and rolled his eyes.


    "Even if I jumped off a tower, I would never cry!"


    "Then you could at least talk to me. You know, Cassandra isn¡¯t quite the way you imagine her..." Poppy hugged her arms, her bright eyes twinkling as she looked at him.


    "I''d rather confide in Sir Nicholas. Or have an emotional chat with the Bloody Baron." Harry flicked his wand again, sending another spell crashing into the training dummy.


    Poppy puffed out her cheeks and kicked at the ground aimlessly. "Wow! I came here to comfort you, and you don¡¯t even appreciate it! You¡¯d rather talk to the Bloody Baron than to me?"


    "Yes!" Harry declared. No distractions, just magic.


    He imagined the dummy was Cassandra and continued practicing his spell combinations.


    Poppy, seeing that Harry was ignoring her, swayed playfully from side to side. Then, her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I see¡­"


    "Leviosa! Accio! Depulso!"


    Harry repeated his spell combinations over and over, trying to push aside his lingering frustration over Cassandra.


    He was running from it.


    "Oh?" Poppy¡¯s expression turned sly, like a little fox. She pulled out her wand, pointed it at her throat, and cast a Sonorous Charm to amplify her voice. Then, standing behind Harry on tiptoe, she whispered dramatically over his shoulder:


    "Practicing magic with such intensity¡­ our poor little Harry must be using it as an outlet for heartbreak!"


    "A shattered heart¡ªwho will it love next? The pain of rejection¡ªwhen will it fade? Only by turning grief into power can he¡ª"


    Poppy suddenly leapt onto a chair, throwing her arms up theatrically as if reciting a Shakespearean sonnet.


    "¡ªunleash his sorrow through magic!"


    Harry finally lowered his wand.


    "Oh my!" Poppy pressed a hand to her chest and stretched out the other dramatically. "Could it be that little Harry is finally exhausted? Has he realized something at last? Will he now seek out Cassandra and have a heartfelt talk¡ª"


    She stopped abruptly when she met Harry¡¯s gaze, suddenly feeling sheepish.


    In her flustered state, she lost her balance and wobbled.


    "Leviosa!"


    Harry flicked his wand, suspending Poppy in the air just before she could fall flat on her back.


    "Thanks, Harry¡ª" Poppy grinned sheepishly.


    Harry couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. And in that moment, he understood what she was doing.


    "I should be the one thanking you, Poppy," he said warmly. "Thank you. I feel much better now."


    Later, it was Poppy¡¯s words that helped him realize where the real issue lay.


    ***


    "I remember." Harry reached out and gently stroked Poppy¡¯s neck. "If not for you, Cassandra and I might never have become friends again..."


    "Haha..." Poppy tilted her head up. "But honestly, even if you hadn¡¯t gone to her back then, she probably would¡¯ve come to find you herself, all high and mighty, and said¡ª"


    She cleared her throat and mimicked a haughty tone: ''Potter! My little sidekick, how dare you defy me?!''


    "You know her well," Harry sighed.


    ----


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 Chapter 99: Cry? Crying Counts as Time Too!

    Harry felt that the most incomprehensible thing in the world was women¡ªand Cassandra was even harder to understand than most women.


    But for some reason, Poppy had a way of handling Cassandra better than anyone else. And it wasn¡¯t just Poppy¡ªeven Veratia seemed to understand Cassandra quite well.


    However, neither of them was willing to share their secret with him, so he had no idea how to properly communicate with Cassandra.


    ¡°Your suggestion is great, Poppy,¡± Harry said. ¡°I think I should first check with the Malfoy family and see if they have any Basilisk fangs¡ªif they do, I can buy some.¡±


    ¡°Or Knockturn Alley shops,¡± Poppy added. ¡°I remember that Borgin and Burkes deals in contraband like that. I¡¯m sure they have a way to get it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a guarantee,¡± Harry replied. ¡°Mr. Borgin isn¡¯t omnipotent.¡±


    As he spoke, he noticed Poppy leaning forward slightly.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked.


    Poppy lifted her head and cheerfully said, ¡°Lowering my head to eat grass.¡±


    Harry: ¡­


    Fine. After all, she was a unicorn now.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Poppy,¡± Harry said with some sadness. ¡°When Veratia returns, she will definitely find a way to turn you back into a human.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Poppy jumped happily twice before adding, ¡°Actually, I don¡¯t mind this form too much¡ªit¡¯s pretty nice! Look, magical creatures are all so close to me, and you know I love them.¡±


    Seeing that Harry was about to say something else, Poppy quickly cut him off.


    ¡°More importantly, you should be figuring out how to rescue Veratia! Compared to me happily spending time with magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest, she¡¯s been trapped alone in Slytherin¡¯s study for over a hundred years!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Poppy,¡± Harry admitted, reaching out to ruffle Poppy¡¯s mane.


    Poppy neighed happily, carried Harry for two laps around the Forbidden Forest, and then dropped him off by the Black Lake.


    Hermione was lying on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out, while Ron was skipping stones across the lake.


    ¡°Hey, Hermione, Ron.¡± Harry jumped off the unicorn and greeted his two friends with a smile.


    Hermione tilted her head and scoffed.


    She really wanted to ride a unicorn too¡­


    But she also knew that unicorns were not horses. Despite their similar appearance, if you treated them like ordinary horses, you¡¯d be the one to suffer.


    There had been someone who tried to ride a unicorn before. Unfortunately, they ended up with a gaping, transparent hole in their chest.


    Only those truly recognized by a unicorn could ride one.


    ¡°Well then, see you tomorrow.¡± Harry waved at Poppy.


    ¡°Alright, Harry,¡± Poppy nodded. ¡°I heard you¡¯re playing in the Quidditch finals? Can I come watch?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Poppy,¡± Ron and Hermione chimed in together. ¡°We¡¯ll make space for you in the Gryffindor stands! If you want, we can even make you the Gryffindor Unicorn!¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the offer, but I¡¯m actually a Hufflepuff,¡± Poppy said with a playful squint. ¡°But I can visit Gryffindor as a guest.¡±


    ¡°Yay!¡± The two cheered together.


    The next afternoon, Poppy arrived at the Quidditch pitch as promised.


    The professors warmly welcomed the unexpected unicorn guest. A sacred, noble creature visiting Hogwarts? That was Merlin¡¯s blessing!


    Poppy politely declined the professors¡¯ invitations and followed Hermione and Ron to the Gryffindor stands, taking the seat that originally belonged to Harry.


    This match was the Quidditch championship final of the school year¡ªGryffindor versus Ravenclaw.


    Madam Hooch, seated on her broom, blew the whistle to start the game.


    In just three seconds, Harry caught the Golden Snitch, setting a new record for the fastest game in Hogwarts history.


    At the same time, he earned himself a new nickname¡ª¡°The Fastest Man.¡±


    That name was coined by the Weasley twins. They probably didn¡¯t mean anything by it, but to Harry, it sounded incredibly awkward.


    Gryffindor¡¯s captain, Oliver Wood, was beaming with joy. Winning the Quidditch Cup had been his biggest dream since he enrolled.


    And now, thanks to the collective effort of the team¡ªand, of course, the decisive strike by ¡°Mr. Three Seconds¡±¡ª


    Harry felt utterly exasperated. He never expected that the most ruthless nickname-givers at this school weren¡¯t the Weasley twins, Snape, or even Draco Malfoy.


    It was none other than his own captain, Oliver Wood.


    ¡°No! I don¡¯t want to be Mr. Three Seconds!¡± Harry cried in despair.


    But it was futile. The enthusiastic Gryffindors lifted him up and tossed him into the air repeatedly.


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    Fortunately, his protests were somewhat effective, and the nickname didn¡¯t last long before it was decisively vetoed.


    By none other than Professor McGonagall, who found it entirely inappropriate.


    At some point, Poppy had quietly left. Harry searched around but couldn¡¯t find her, so he gave up.


    After celebrating with the Gryffindors, Harry headed to the Great Hall.


    Miss Fawley was already waiting for him at the entrance. When she saw Harry approaching, she quickly stepped forward.


    ¡°Hello, Gemma,¡± Harry nodded at her. ¡°Could you call Draco for me? I need to talk to him¡­ Same place as always¡ªthe abandoned classroom on the second floor.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Gemma curtsied slightly before turning to leave.


    Harry made his way to the abandoned classroom on the second floor.


    Not long after, Draco Malfoy arrived at the door.


    To be honest, Draco had been in a foul mood lately.


    On one hand, Harry¡¯s success irritated him. He wasn¡¯t jealous, per se¡ªhe just found it annoying that Harry was always in the spotlight.


    If you asked him why he disliked Harry, it all traced back to that time when Harry rejected his offer of friendship.


    Saint Potter!


    On the other hand, Miss Merope had vanished from his side.


    She disappeared on the day Professor Quirrell attempted his grand scheme. Draco could only vaguely remember bringing his notebook to the fourth floor, but after that, everything was a blur.


    Without Miss Merope, it wasn¡¯t just Draco who felt unsettled¡ªhalf of Slytherin was practically losing their minds.


    Miss Merope wasn¡¯t just beautiful; she was also incredibly gentle and understanding. More importantly, she was a genius at magic¡ªno matter how difficult the spell, she could solve it effortlessly. Her mastery of magical techniques was unmatched.


    Slytherins had always revered strength. It was true a century ago, and even now, despite many of them being the children of criminals, they still carried an innate pursuit of power.


    Power and glory!


    More than a few people came to Draco, accusing him of hiding Miss Merope¡¯s notebook.


    But Draco was equally frustrated¡ªif they wanted to know where she was, so did he.


    The Malfoys were a pureblood family, but so was nearly every other Slytherin family.


    The Malfoy name once held great power, but that was in the past.


    This wasn¡¯t the 19th century when Septimus Malfoy ruled from the shadows¡ªthose days of glory were long gone.


    Draco had no choice but to open his dorm for a search. When they found nothing, the other Slytherins had no choice but to give up.


    But still¡­ at least the power remained.


    Just as he was feeling irritated, Miss Fawley found him and told him that Gryffindor¡¯s Potter was waiting for him in an abandoned classroom on the second floor.


    Draco would never pass up such a perfect opportunity for revenge. Unable to contain his excitement, he immediately got up, abandoning his half-eaten meal, and hurried upstairs without a moment¡¯s hesitation.


    The moment he laid eyes on Harry, Draco flashed a sinister yet confident smile.


    "Well, well, Potter!" Draco stepped out from behind the door. "If I were you, I wouldn¡¯t have chosen to meet me alone in a place like this¡ªdon''t worry, I¡¯ll leave you alive just long enough to admit in front of the entire school that the so-called Savior¡ª"


    "Listen to me, Malfoy." Harry cut off Draco¡¯s trash talk. "I need to ask you¡ªwhat¡¯s the deal with that notebook circulating among the Slytherins?"


    "You don¡¯t deserve to know!" Draco¡¯s brow twitched twice before he pulled out his wand. "The only thing you need to know is that you, Saint Potter, are about to be defeated by me!"


    Harry sighed.


    Could they not have a proper conversation for once?


    He didn¡¯t even bother drawing his wand. Instead, he simply snapped his fingers, and in an instant, a ring of brilliant blue flames encircled the two of them.


    Then, the flames surged, and from within the blazing blue fire, a lion emerged, its silent roar directed at Draco.


    Draco opened his mouth, at a complete loss. What spell was he supposed to use against a flaming lion?


    He wasn¡¯t Hermione, after all¡ªhe had never had much enthusiasm for academics.


    Left with no choice, Draco fired off a few spells, but they were utterly ineffective against the fire lion.


    The creature advanced on him, forcing Draco back step by step until he stumbled into a chair and fell into it with a thud.


    "This... this is..." Draco¡¯s voice was dry. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible! Miss Merope granted me so much power¡ªhow... how did you become this strong?!"


    Gaining power himself had been exhilarating, but Potter¡¯s ever-growing strength filled him with an undeniable sense of despair.


    Harry almost wanted to laugh.


    Why had he become stronger?


    I absorbed the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, my guy. What about you?


    But upon hearing the name "Merope," Harry let out a breath of relief.


    "Tell me about your Miss Merope." He leaned against the table and asked lazily.


    "No! I¡¯ll never tell you anything!" Draco stiffened his neck. "Never!"


    Seeing that Draco refused to cooperate, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out his wand.


    "W-what are you going to do?" Draco asked in horror.


    Harry had no intention of wasting words. He met Draco¡¯s panicked gaze and cast his spell.


    "Legilimens!"


    A sharp pain suddenly shot through Draco¡¯s head as memories surged forward like tidal waves.


    Miss Merope bestowing power upon him, teaching him spells, instructing him to spread the notebook in the Slytherin common room... the Malfoy Manor, conversations with his parents, discovering Merope¡¯s notebook...


    Finally, the scene froze on Draco frantically searching his dormitory for Miss Merope¡¯s notebook.


    "Feeling sentimental?" Harry¡¯s voice sounded from behind him.


    Draco snapped back to reality¡ªhe was no longer searching for the notebook but was still under Potter¡¯s control.


    "This is my private business!" Draco gasped.


    "Not to me." Harry smirked. "Malfoy, you should be thanking me, because it looks like you¡¯ve been tricked."


    "Tricked?" Draco still hadn¡¯t recovered from his shock.


    Harry sighed helplessly. "That notebook... are you stupid? Think about it¡ªyour family, the Malfoys. Your grandfather, your father, and you¡ªall of you have pale blonde hair. I¡¯ve seen a picture of Septimus Malfoy¡ªhe had the same blonde hair. How could your family suddenly have a black-haired member? With red eyes, no less?"


    "Impossible!" Draco flatly refused to believe Harry¡¯s words. "Absolutely impossible! Miss Merope wouldn¡¯t lie to me! Never!"


    Without a word, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out a different notebook¡ªone belonging to Cassandra.


    "Take a look. This is the real Cassandra Malfoy¡¯s notebook. Yours is a fake."


    "You... how do you know Cassandra?!" Draco asked in alarm.


    Seeing Draco¡¯s reaction, Harry twirled his wand.


    "No, don¡¯t use that spell again..." Draco scrambled backward, tears welling up in his eyes. "I¡¯ll tell you whatever you want to know¡ª"


    "Tell me about Cassandra." Harry sat back down, crossing one leg casually over the other.


    "W-why do you want to know about her?" Draco sniffled. The searing pain from earlier had left him utterly broken.


    Harry didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he waved his wand and conjured a clock.


    He adjusted the hands, set the timer for five minutes, and placed it on the table with a sharp snap.


    "You have five minutes," he warned. "Or I¡¯ll use Legilimency again."


    "Huh? I..." Draco couldn¡¯t hold it in anymore and started sobbing again.


    Even though he was born into an illustrious family, he was still just a twelve-year-old child.


    Having been raised in a sheltered environment, adored and protected all his life, Draco had never been treated like this before.


    "Crying?" Harry let out a cold laugh. "Crying still counts as part of the five minutes."


    Draco hiccupped through his sobs.


    "I¡¯ll talk¡ª"


    Like a bamboo tube spilling beans, Draco poured out everything he had heard from Lucius.


    "Wait!" Harry suddenly felt a jolt in his heart. "Are you saying... Cassandra stole your family¡¯s ancestral heirloom and then disappeared?"


    "Y-yes... yes." Draco nodded frantically. He glanced up, sneaking a look at Harry, only to find that the other boy¡¯s expression was flickering unpredictably¡ªas if he cared deeply about Cassandra, the Malfoy ancestor.


    "You... seem very concerned about my ancestor?" Draco asked cautiously, trying to please him.


    ----


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 Chapter 100: I Am Your Ancestor

    Harry initially wanted to come up with an excuse to brush the matter off, but then he suddenly thought of the missing Cassandra.


    Crossing his arms, he looked down at Draco from above.


    "Of course I care about her. In fact¡ªshe¡¯s my friend."


    "Could it be... that notebook in your hand is also..."


    Draco pointed at the notebook in Harry¡¯s hand in shock, his mind instantly conjuring up a scene of an ancestral spirit mentoring Harry.


    Could it be¡­ Potter¡¯s strength comes from the teachings of his ancestor?!


    No!


    He roared internally.


    That¡¯s my ancestor! Why would they teach Potter?!


    "Oh, this is just an ordinary notebook, not like your Merope." Harry flipped through the pages casually and said to Draco, "But if your brain¡ª which isn¡¯t much smarter than a troll¡¯s¡ªhasn¡¯t been completely clouded by beauty, you should have realized by now the true, evil nature of that person."


    "Evil?" Draco instinctively wanted to refute but hesitated.


    Something about Harry¡¯s words felt oddly familiar, like the way Professor Snape would snarkily criticize people.


    "You Slytherins must be perpetually sleepy. The professors have had to deduct a lot of points because of that." Harry lazily remarked. "That notebook is a highly malevolent magical artifact. It can drain people¡¯s life force to strengthen itself. Trust me, while the Malfoy family may have flexible morals, they¡¯re not that low."


    "Dark... dark magic?!" Draco¡¯s face displayed utter shock.


    The Malfoy family vault certainly contained some dark artifacts.


    As the Malfoy heir, he had occasionally accompanied his father there.


    Every time they visited, his father would sternly warn him¡ªnever, ever touch those objects.


    "What else would it be?" Harry scoffed. "Your Slytherin classmates were drained of their life force by that so-called ¡®Merope.¡¯ Didn¡¯t you feel inexplicably drowsy and weak in the beginning?"


    He added, "Though I suppose she does have some boundaries¡ªat least she returned a portion of the life force she stole from you as compensation."


    "Miss Merope does care about me!" Draco¡¯s eyes welled with tears.


    Seeing how utterly bewitched Draco was, Harry felt a deep sense of exasperation.


    Thinking back to his life a century ago, Cassandra had been sharp-tongued, but in every other way, she had treated him well.


    Comparing Cassandra to the Draco standing before him now, Harry genuinely felt that this kid was unworthy of being her descendant.


    Damn it, how did the Malfoy family end up like this?


    Harry raised his wand at Draco.


    "Aguamenti!"


    A powerful jet of ice-cold water shot from the tip of Harry¡¯s wand, almost pinning Draco against the wall.


    Drenched in freezing water, Draco finally regained some clarity.


    "Why don¡¯t you think for a moment¡ªor better yet, go home and ask your father." Harry¡¯s voice was icy.


    "So... you¡¯re not lying to me?"


    Draco¡¯s intelligence finally kicked back in.


    "I told you, Cassandra is my good friend¡ª" Harry paused, then an amusing idea struck him. He dried Draco off with his wand, poked his face, and said, "Kid, by lineage, I¡¯m your ancestor too."


    "You¡¯re insulting the Malfoy family!" Draco looked up in indignation. "I... I¡¯m going to tell my father!"


    "Oh, even your father should be considered my grandson''s generation." Harry tapped Draco¡¯s head with his wand, watching him flinch and crouch defensively. He continued, "Think about it. Who did your great-great-aunt fight alongside to suppress the goblin rebellion?"


    "It was... Harry Potter..." Draco instinctively repeated, then suddenly had an epiphany.


    He pointed at Harry, stammering, "Ha¡ªHarry Potter? Could it be that you¡¯re really..."


    "Why else do you think I was able to defeat Miss Farley so easily? Or Professor Quirrell?"


    At this point, Harry decided to have some fun.


    He recalled Ron once saying that the Malfoy family were staunch Death Eaters loyal to Voldemort.


    "Or, let¡¯s put it this way... even the thing stuck to the back of Professor Quirrell¡¯s head¡ªVoldemort?"


    "How dare you... how dare you speak that name?!" Draco exclaimed in terror, but despite his fear, he was growing increasingly composed.


    Yes¡­


    If this were just an ordinary first-year, how could they achieve all this?


    Forget the Dark Lord¡¯s return¡ªeven if it were Merlin himself, he wouldn¡¯t have such mastery over magic at this age, right?


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    Could it really be¡­


    Draco lifted his head and met Harry¡¯s amused gaze.


    "I-It¡¯s really you?" Draco¡¯s thoughts suddenly clicked into place. "Merlin¡¯s beard, M-M-M-Mr. Potter, it¡¯s an honor¡ªan absolute honor¡­"


    If he had been bested by another first-year¡ªeven if that person was the so-called Chosen One¡ªDraco would have found it unacceptable.


    But if this person was actually a century-old geezer¡ªno, an ancient monster¡ªthen Draco had absolutely no objections. In fact, he felt oddly honored.


    I¡¯ve dueled with a legendary wizard from a hundred years ago¡ªthree times! 3:0! Can anyone else say the same?!


    In that moment, Draco began to convince himself.


    Even if this Potter was bluffing, he had to be the Potter from a hundred years ago!


    Harry didn¡¯t say anything. He simply smiled.


    "You still bear Miss Merope''s curse¡ªor rather, her mark," Harry said to Draco. "When you return home, ask your father what exactly is on your left arm."


    Draco''s heart jolted. He hastily rolled up his sleeve, and sure enough, as Harry had said, a black skull was branded onto his left forearm. A large serpent slithered out of the skull''s mouth, resembling a grotesque tongue. The sight was eerie and menacing.


    "This... what is this?!" Draco asked in horror.


    Harry didn''t know either¡ªsuch an ominous mark had never appeared even a century ago.


    He merely raised a hand and gestured for Draco to keep quiet.


    "Shh. I wouldn¡¯t recommend showing this mark to others. Just ask your father when you get home."


    "Oh... alright..." Draco nodded blankly.


    "Also, that so-called ''gift of power'' from Miss Merope is nothing more than an enhancement at the cost of your vitality," Harry warned again. "It¡¯s a temporary spell¡ªonce it fades in a few days, you''ll be left weak for at least a month."


    "Thank you for the warning." Draco nodded.


    "Alright, I¡¯ve said all I needed to. I think it''s time for you to head back," Harry said. "Once you ask your father about the curse on your arm, I suspect he¡¯ll invite me over for a visit. When that happens, I have some matters to discuss with him."


    With that, Harry turned and left the abandoned classroom.


    If it weren¡¯t for Poppy¡¯s reminder yesterday, he wouldn¡¯t have bothered getting involved with the Malfoys.


    But acquiring a basilisk fang¡ªa rare and powerful magical artifact¡ªseemed possible only through the Malfoy family''s channels¡­


    And now, having learned about Cassandra from Draco, Harry felt a pressing need to have a proper conversation with Lucius.


    But that would have to wait until the holidays. For now, he intended to enjoy the momentary relief of finishing exams.


    ---


    A week later, the exam results were finally released.


    Looking at Harry¡¯s report card, which was filled with nothing but "O" grades, Hermione silently swore to herself that she would study even harder to achieve the same next year.


    Ron¡¯s grades were decent as well¡ªexcept for Potions, in which he scored a "T." The rest of his subjects were either "E" or "O."


    His mother was quite satisfied with his performance. After all, no one could expect a fair grade from a Potions professor who had no love for the Weasley family¡ªnot that the Weasleys had ever been particularly good at Potions anyway.


    Aside from Bill and Percy, none of them had ever received an "E" or higher from Snape.


    Not that Snape was outright biased against Gryffindor. When it came to grading, he was fairly impartial¡ªjust extremely strict.


    Even Hermione understood this. After all, Potions was a precise science; a tiny miscalculation could mean the difference between a healing draught and a lethal poison.


    Trust me¡ªlosing points in Potions was a small price to pay compared to the potential consequences of a careless mistake.


    Before leaving Hogwarts for the break, Harry made one last visit to the Map Chamber to bid farewell to Veratia.


    Professor Rookwood, reluctant as ever, had no choice but to leave with Headmaster Fitzgerald, granting the two young people some privacy.


    "I''m heading back, Veratia," Harry said. "During the break, I plan to retrieve the materials stored in your vault first, then start searching for a basilisk fang."


    "No, it¡¯s our vault," Veratia corrected him.


    "Uh... is there really a difference?" Harry scratched his head. "You were the one who stored everything there, weren¡¯t you? I remember you mentioned there was even some money in it."


    "It¡¯s not the same, Harry," Vellatia crossed her arms. "The vault is in both our names. No one else can access it except for us¡ªunless, in the future, our..."


    She suddenly stopped mid-sentence, her cheeks tinged with an unmistakable blush.


    "Our what?" Harry didn¡¯t catch her meaning.


    "Nothing," Veratia murmured softly. "It¡¯s nothing."


    "Oh, right." Harry suddenly remembered something. "In our year, there¡¯s a descendant of the Malfoy family. I got some news about Cassandra from him."


    "Cassandra?" Veratia¡¯s expression grew sharp. "What news?"


    "According to the Malfoy family, she apparently stole a family heirloom during her seventh year and vanished after that." Harry spread his hands.


    "I see," Veratia whispered.


    "See what?" Harry asked in confusion.


    "That explains why she wrote me that letter. She must have feared I¡¯d find you first by traveling through time," Veratia chuckled softly. "Looks like she had the same idea¡ªto use the Malfoy heirloom to cross time and seek you out a century later."


    "That... that¡¯s impossible," Harry said in disbelief. "She clearly stated in her letter that she would never go along with your nonsense. So why would she..."


    "Harry," Veratia¡¯s gaze softened. "You¡¯ve been deceived by appearances. Trust me¡ªshe has already used time magic. Perhaps, like me, she¡¯s trapped in some corner of time, waiting for you to rescue her..."


    When it came to understanding Cassandra, Veratia was second to none.


    She had long since figured out Cassandra¡¯s nature. That proud girl often meant the opposite of what she said.


    For instance, Cassandra once told Veratia she disliked Harry¡ªbecause he was lazy, arrogant¡­


    Yet as she spoke, Veratia caught a fleeting gentleness in her eyes.


    From the moment she met Cassandra, Veratia realized that despite their constant bickering, Harry was, in fact, the biggest threat to her heart.


    And now, before her lay a golden opportunity. Given Harry¡¯s usual habit of taking her words to heart, she could easily declare that Cassandra had never dabbled in time magic, and Harry would believe her¡ªthus abandoning any pursuit of Cassandra¡¯s whereabouts.


    But she couldn¡¯t do it. She never even considered it.


    Even if it meant she might lose, she refused to let Cassandra remain trapped somewhere¡ªjust as she herself had been, her body frozen in time in Slytherin¡¯s study, her soul confined to a portrait, enduring a century of solitude.


    Yes, she lied to Harry¡ªbecause she didn¡¯t want him to feel guilty.


    However¡­


    She had no qualms about keeping certain things from him regarding Cassandra. After all, she was already at a disadvantage¡ªlosing her edge entirely would be unacceptable.


    "Really?" Harry asked, skeptical.


    "Harry, no matter how slim the chance, you must never give up," Veratia sighed. "Cassandra was your closest friend. You may not realize it yet, but in all of Hogwarts, the person who cared for you the most wasn¡¯t me, nor Ominis, nor Sebastian¡ªit was Cassandra. Cassandra Malfoy."


    "Remember Flint? The one who used to bully you?" Veratia asked.


    Just hearing the name made Harry frown.


    "Of course I remember. If it weren¡¯t for Vice Principal Weasley, I might have suffered the same way Draco Malfoy bullied Neville back then."


    "Vice Principal Weasley?" Veratia giggled. "Harry, you¡¯re so naive."


    "Huh?" Harry scratched his head.


    "The Flints were one of the most powerful families in magical Britain at the time," Veratia explained. "Professor Weasley may have been the vice principal, but you knew how things were back then¡ªshe had no authority to pressure the Flints into restraining their son."


    "It was Cassandra. She never stepped in to help you directly, only watched from afar. But that very afternoon, she wrote a letter to her father. That same night, Septimus Malfoy convened the school governors and pressured the Flint family. Otherwise, do you really think Slytherins would have suddenly started avoiding you altogether?"


    ----


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 Chapter 101: Grindelwald’s Pride!

    Harry suddenly felt awkward, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.


    "So that¡¯s how it was¡­" Harry felt a twinge of guilt. "Actually, at the time¡­ uh, I was thinking, if only the Board of Governors could do something about Miss Malfoy. She always called me lazy and arrogant. Back then, I thought she was really annoying..."


    In the portrait, Veratia almost burst out laughing. She held back her amusement and said, "Oh yes, oh yes, you wanted the Board of Governors to rein in the daughter of the most powerful member of the Board? You really¡­ have quite an imaginative mind, Harry."


    "Yeah, I was really naive back then," Harry sighed in reflection.


    It all made sense now.


    No wonder¡­ No wonder Cassandra was so furious when he had thanked Gareth back then¡ªand even stomped on his foot.


    At the time, Harry had found it baffling, but now, he finally understood.


    "Actually, now that you put it that way, Cassandra is rather¡­ well, quite something," Harry struggled to find the right words. "You know? Back outside the Elegant Wizard Robes shop, Cassandra mocked me for coming to buy second-hand robes again¡­"


    Then he suddenly paused.


    "And then?" Veratia asked with interest.


    "Ah, I didn¡¯t really mind. I was just curious whether she was there to sell second-hand robes herself, so I asked her, ''Are there any here that you¡¯ve worn before?¡¯"


    Harry scratched his head and couldn¡¯t help but laugh.


    "That¡¯s so you¡­ You never told me about this," Veratia said, stifling a chuckle.


    "It wasn¡¯t worth mentioning. I thought she got really mad and just turned and left," Harry said with a shrug.


    "She had every right to be mad. That was quite an offensive remark," Veratia smirked.


    Harry raised an eyebrow. "Ha, you guessed wrong. She wasn¡¯t actually mad. That afternoon, she even had an owl deliver two old Slytherin robes she had worn."


    "What did you just say?!" Veratia¡¯s voice shot up.


    "Uh¡ª I said she sent me two old robes¡­" Harry cautiously glanced at Veratia, who was now glaring at him.


    Veratia let out a huff and stared at Harry. "And did you wear them?"


    "Yeah, I had Professor Weasley help alter them into Gryffindor robes¡­" Harry admitted guiltily.


    "She gives you something, and you just wear it?" Veratia shot him a look.


    "You know what things were like for me back then," Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward for reasons he couldn¡¯t quite explain. He instinctively justified himself, "I was alone in the wizarding world. No family, no real friends¡­"


    Veratia''s heart softened.


    "I¡¯m sorry, Harry."


    "Ah, it¡¯s nothing," Harry waved his hand dismissively before turning back to Veratia. "But this time, I really have to go to Malfoy Manor. Whether I can find a Basilisk fang or not will depend on Cassandra¡¯s great-nephew."


    "Alright." Veratia smiled and nodded. "I¡¯ll be waiting for your good news in the Map Chamber."


    "And when I get out, you still have to come with me to find Cassandra and help me save Poppy," Harry added with a grin. "Oh, and I can¡¯t seem to find any news on Ominis and Sebastian either. I might have to make a trip to Azkaban¡­"


    "Don¡¯t worry, they won¡¯t be in Azkaban," Veratia said. "Once I leave Slytherin¡¯s study, I¡¯ll go with you. We¡¯ll do it together."


    She emphasized the word "together."


    Harry didn¡¯t catch it and simply nodded.


    He stayed in the Map Chamber all night, chatting with Veratia.


    It wasn¡¯t until the next morning that he finally left.


    After Harry departed, Headmaster Fitzgerald and the others returned to their portraits.


    "Honestly," Headmaster Fitzgerald said to Veratia, "you waited in the Map Chamber for a hundred years for nothing¡ªand now I hear that Potter is going to find Cassandra? Was it you who told him?"


    "I just don¡¯t understand you young people," said Lockwood from the side. "Love is selfish. If I were you, I wouldn¡¯t have told Potter about Cassandra being trapped in the time rift¡ªnot so soon, at least."


    "Grindelwald¡¯s pride does not allow her to do that," Veratia lifted her chin high, exuding the elegance of a swan.


    "Merlin¡¯s beard, you¡¯re such a soft-hearted fool," Lockwood sighed. "If it were me, I would¡¯ve waited until I secured a relationship with that little Potter before telling him¡ªor maybe I wouldn¡¯t tell him at all."


    "No wonder all your descendants are Dark Wizards," Professor Pockham rolled his eyes and delivered a cutting remark.


    Lockwood let out a roar and lunged into Pockham¡¯s portrait.


    "Charles! Charles!" Headmaster Fitzgerald hurriedly pulled him back. "He¡¯s only telling the truth!"


    "Exactly! That¡¯s why it hurts!" Lockwood clutched his chest in anguish. "Merlin, what did I do wrong? Why are all my descendants villains?!"


    "Because the apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree," Professor Pockham whistled.


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    Lockwood turned red with rage.


    Lockwood was utterly defeated.


    "But speaking of which," Professor Pockham suddenly mused, "that Potter boy is average in talent and has a rather¡­ questionable personality. Why do you like him so much? You even went as far as separating your soul from your body, hiding in a portrait, and freezing yourself in time just to meet him?"


    "Why do I like him?" Veratia murmured. In truth¡­ she wasn¡¯t entirely sure herself.


    At first, what attracted her to Harry was the ancient magic she had glimpsed in him at first sight.


    Ancient magic inheritors were rare. Most would go their entire lives without ever meeting another inheritor in the world.


    But she had been fortunate enough to encounter one at Hogwarts¡ªsomeone who happened to be in the same year as her.


    What intrigued her even more was that, in most cases, inheritors of ancient magic were Squibs or Muggles before the age of fifteen, completely devoid of magical ability. But Harry was different. Before turning fifteen, he already possessed ample magic, defying all conventions.


    Later, she discovered traces of Grindelwald¡¯s ancient spellwork within him.


    Initially, she had only approached Harry to unravel these mysteries.


    But over time, as they spent more and more moments together, Veratia found herself drawn to his character¡ªhis resilience, sharpness, courage, integrity, and loyalty. Like a star shining in the night, his qualities illuminated the darkness.


    At some point, she had come to accept him. Perhaps it had happened gradually, day by day.


    "Love has no reason, Charles," Headmaster Fitzgerald said softly.


    Lockwood rolled his eyes and chose to remain silent.


    Ah, restless youth.


    Harry had no idea what had transpired in the Map Chamber. As he yawned and climbed the stairs, the eastern sun slowly began to rise.


    In high-latitude regions, summer daylight always arrives earlier. Harry glanced at his watch¡ªit wasn¡¯t even four o¡¯clock yet.


    He walked back to his dormitory, flipped onto his bed, and his mind was still occupied with thoughts of Cassandra.


    In truth, Harry felt a tinge of regret. If only he had realized Cassandra¡¯s good intentions earlier.


    Perhaps¡­ his school life back then would have been much more interesting?


    As the holiday approached, the students¡¯ minds began to drift.


    After all, final exam results would only make them miserable for a short while. Not everyone was like Hermione, who placed great importance on grades.


    Scrawling a few words on the exam papers was enough to justify the few Galleons their parents spent.


    It should be said that wizarding families didn¡¯t place too much emphasis on their children¡¯s grades either.


    After all, the wizarding population was small, the ecosystem wasn¡¯t highly competitive, and thus, there was no cutthroat academic pressure.


    Moreover, Hogwarts had, intentionally or not, embraced a rather lenient approach to education, leading to a rather mixed level of competence among its graduates.


    But¡­


    In times of peace, that might have been acceptable.


    However, during an era of war, a wizard incapable of properly casting spells would struggle to survive.


    For those without exceptional talent, the reality was harsh. If you slacked off in learning spells, thinking that just barely casting them was enough¡ªthen in battle, those spells would fail you just the same.


    Right, as long as you could produce a flash of light, that was enough to keep up with the syllabus. Who cared if the spell actually worked?


    Harry was well aware of the flaws in Hogwarts¡¯ education system, but he had no idea how to fix them.


    Professor Dumbledore might be a good man, but as a headmaster¡­


    From an educational standpoint, Headmaster Black had been far more competent. After all, students who didn¡¯t study were properly disciplined under his tenure.


    Harry planned to find a suitable opportunity to discuss this matter with the headmaster.


    Soon enough, the holidays were right around the corner.


    Before the break, however, there was one last event¡ªthe House Cup.


    Before Harry had enrolled, Slytherin had already won the House Cup for six consecutive years¡ªthanks to their highly protective and blatantly biased Head of House, who constantly deducted points from other houses while generously awarding Slytherin.


    If they won this year, it would mark their seventh consecutive victory.


    Already unpopular due to their association with numerous Death Eaters and infamous ancestors, Slytherin was now even more disliked by the other houses.


    At the House Cup award ceremony, the Great Hall was decked out in Slytherin¡¯s signature silver and green decorations¡ªserpentine through and through.


    From Gryffindor to Hufflepuff, from Hufflepuff to Ravenclaw, everyone wore gloomy expressions¡ªbecause once again, Slytherin had claimed the House Cup.


    It wasn¡¯t that they were upset about their own houses losing. The real grievance was that Slytherin had won.


    That was what made it truly unbearable.


    Losing was one thing, but watching your enemy succeed? Now that was unacceptable.


    The Slytherins, however, weren¡¯t overly jubilant either, as some of them were still preoccupied with the disappearance of Miss Merope.


    Not long after, Dumbledore took his place at the head table.


    After delivering his speech, he announced the house standings. Hufflepuff trailed at the bottom with 352 points, Gryffindor ranked third with 398 points, Ravenclaw secured second place with 426 points, while Slytherin dominated with a commanding lead of 472 points.


    At last, the Slytherins erupted in cheers, their excitement spilling over as they celebrated.


    Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore then began his subtle intervention.


    He first praised Neville, Seamus, Hermione, and Ron for their outstanding performances before highlighting Harry¡¯s remarkable achievements¡ªthen promptly awarded Gryffindor a whopping 200 points.


    The Slytherins¡¯ joy was abruptly cut short. Their expressions twisted as though they had just been forced to swallow a pile of dead rats.


    Anyone standing outside the Great Hall at that moment might have thought something truly earth-shattering had happened inside.


    The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, wave after wave of jubilant shouts, but the most shocking thing was¡ªRavenclaw and Hufflepuff were cheering even louder than Gryffindor.


    They might not have won, but seeing Slytherin lose? Now that was worth celebrating.


    A flood of students rushed forward, eager to shake hands with Harry and his friends¡ªNeville, in particular, was so stunned that he turned pale as he was engulfed by a crowd of people hugging him.


    ¡°This means,¡± Dumbledore had to practically shout over the deafening cheers, ¡°we¡¯ll need to make a few small changes to the decorations here.¡±


    With a clap of his hands, the emerald green drapes instantly turned scarlet, silver transformed into gold, and the enormous Slytherin serpent vanished, replaced by a majestic Gryffindor lion.


    Snape was shaking hands with Professor McGonagall, his expression forcibly stretched into an awkward smile.


    Harry glanced up at Snape. Sensing the gaze, Snape turned his eyes toward Harry as well.


    Then, with a look of utter disgust¡ªas if he had just swallowed a fly¡ªSnape immediately turned away.


    Harry felt the urge to laugh but held it in.


    The holiday arrived as expected, and Harry had already made plans for his break.


    He had a long list of things to do¡ªvisiting Gringotts, calling on the Malfoys, stopping by the Weasleys, searching for signs of the Basilisk¡¯s fangs in Knockturn Alley¡­ In short, he had plenty on his agenda.


    He intended to tackle them one by one, starting with returning to the Dursleys''.


    Though he wasn¡¯t particularly fond of his aunt and uncle, at the very least, their house provided a place to rest.


    The hardworking house-elves of Hogwarts had already packed their trunks for them, neatly loading them onto the train before they left.


    Just before boarding the Hogwarts Express, Harry went to find Poppy.


    After searching for a while, he finally spotted her by the Black Lake.


    Her nose was submerged in the water, bubbles rising to the surface in a steady stream.


    ¡°Poppy?¡± Harry asked curiously. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    Poppy lifted her head and replied, ¡°I¡¯m glub-glubbing.¡±


    With that, she stuck her nose back in the water.


    ¡°Glub-glub, glub-glub¡­¡±


    Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked, ¡°I¡¯m heading home¡ªdo you want to come with me?¡±


    Poppy lifted her head again, scrutinizing him as if reassessing the potential of a rather hopeless young boy.


    ¡°You want to take a unicorn back to the Muggle world?¡±


    ----


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 Chapter 102: A Harmless Little Hex

    Bringing magical creatures into the Muggle world was indeed a highly illegal act.


    Especially when it came to unicorns¡ªlegendary creatures even among magical beasts. Doing so would practically guarantee an all-expenses-paid trip to Azkaban, complete with personalized mentoring from Dementors.


    What? You''re asking about the gold-tier mentors?


    Well, that would be none other than Lord Voldemort himself, who had generously offered one-on-one tutoring to Mr. Potter last term.


    Now, smuggling in something small like a Niffler might be manageable. After all, a Niffler looked like an oversized rat, easy enough to carry around¡­ though it did have a few minor quirks, such as an insatiable urge to loot gold bars from the docks.


    But a unicorn? That was a bit too conspicuous.


    "Of course, you were just attacked by Voldemort recently," Harry said with concern. "Remember what Professor Howin said? ¡®It¡¯s not the thief you should fear, but the thief who won¡¯t stop thinking about you.¡¯ You¡¯re already on Voldemort¡¯s radar. I¡¯m really worried he might sneak into the Forbidden Forest again to attack you¡ªhe did escape from the dungeons, after all..."


    Poppy thought about it. Harry had a point.


    If Voldemort targeted her again, and this time without Harry¡¯s help, she might not be able to escape...


    That Voldemort¡­ really was something else.


    Oh, but it wasn¡¯t her fault! Who would have thought that despicable, shameless Voldemort would ambush her like that? She was over a hundred years old! she thought indignantly.


    With that in mind, Poppy decided she should probably go with Harry.


    "But I can¡¯t just run around outside with you, can I?" Poppy asked worriedly. "If the Ministry of Magic catches you, you¡¯ll be sent straight to the Wizengamot for smuggling unicorns¡ªthat¡¯s a serious crime."


    "I¡¯ve got a trunk with an Undetectable Extension Charm." Harry patted his suitcase. "I trust you not to eat all my books."


    "Ah! You!" Poppy huffed, grabbing Harry¡¯s robe with her teeth and shaking it dramatically. "Harry~ Harry~ what do you take me for?!"


    "But¡­"


    Poppy trailed off, then shook her head. To Harry¡¯s amazement, the horn on her forehead disappeared.


    "I can hide it."


    "Cool." Harry ran a hand over Poppy¡¯s head, astonished. "Wow, it¡¯s really gone. How did you do that?"


    "Not telling you." Poppy whispered.


    "Alright." Harry opened the suitcase. "Why don¡¯t you... hop in first?"


    "No one¡¯s watching, right?" Poppy drawled, glancing over Harry¡¯s shoulder.


    Once she confirmed the coast was clear, she leapt into the suitcase.


    "Get me a lamp!" Poppy called from inside.


    Harry flicked his wand, conjuring a bright lamp and placing it in the trunk.


    "Let¡¯s go," Harry said, snapping the suitcase shut before sneaking back to Hogwarts Castle.


    Meanwhile, Neville had been searching for his toad ever since Harry left. Thankfully, all of Gryffindor pitched in to help, launching a full-scale search of the castle. They eventually found it huddled in the corner of the girls¡¯ bathroom.


    A notice was sent to every student, reminding them that using magic during the holidays was strictly prohibited.


    "I always hoped they¡¯d forget to send these out," Fred and George said in unison, looking genuinely disappointed.


    To everyone¡¯s surprise, Hermione actually agreed with them.


    "I think so too. Going without magic for too long at home could lead to skill deterioration." Hermione stuffed the notice under her plate. "I should bring this up with the Headmaster..."


    "It¡¯s Ministry law, Hermione," George reminded her.


    "Then I¡¯ll raise it with the Minister of Magic."


    "I doubt those old fossils at the Ministry will listen to you, Miss Know-It-All," Fred teased, grinning. "Honestly, I¡¯d bet you have a better chance of becoming Minister of Magic than convincing the current one to change the rules."


    Hermione rolled her eyes. The twins always joked around.


    Me? Minister of Magic?


    Don¡¯t be ridiculous.


    I¡¯m just a Muggle-born witch. The pure-blood supremacists in the Ministry would never allow someone like me to take that position.


    After breakfast in the Great Hall, Hogwarts students departed for home.


    Hagrid was in charge of ferrying students across the lake. As Harry passed by, Hagrid handed him a pouch full of berries he had picked from the Forbidden Forest.


    "Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said cheerfully.


    "Share ¡®em with your friends," Hagrid chuckled. "And if yeh want some rock cakes or a weasel sandwich¡ª"


    "No thanks, Hagrid! We brought lunch!" Ron quickly interrupted.


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    He had suffered through enough rock cakes in his lifetime. And the thought of a weasel sandwich? Pure nightmare fuel.


    Who knew why Hagrid was so fond of making inedible food?


    "Write to me, Harry!" Hagrid called after them. "And you lot too!"


    "We will!" Ron waved back with a grin.


    Once aboard the Hogwarts Express, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found an empty compartment.


    Neville and Seamus had been picked up by their families in advance, so they weren¡¯t on the train.


    They called it the Hogwarts Express, but honestly, the speed was...


    The last time it got an upgrade was when Septimus Malfoy generously funded improvements to its engine system.


    "Time flies," Ron mused. "It feels surreal, but also kinda nice¡ªblimey."


    "You do realize," Hermione reminded him, "that Professor Snape and Professor Binns assigned us summer homework? Eleven inches of essays each! I have no idea how I¡¯m going to write them all..."


    "Eleven inches?" Ron scoffed. "Easy. Just write bigger, space your lines out, and use wider margins. Minimum effort, maximum length."


    "Oh, thank you, Ronald," Hermione said sarcastically. "Do you really think Professor Snape is that stupid?"


    "Snape, maybe not. But Binns? Definitely." Ron smirked. "I bet Binns won¡¯t even grade the essays, since he can¡¯t physically touch them."


    That joke was so dark that even Hermione, despite her disapproval, couldn¡¯t help but laugh.


    "I think¡ª"


    Before Ron could finish, there was a knock at the compartment door.


    "Come in," Hermione said.


    The door slid open, revealing a Hufflepuff boy standing outside.


    "Oh, Cedric." Harry greeted him.


    "Harry, Ron, Hermione." Cedric smiled brightly, exuding his usual warmth. He wasn¡¯t the least bit reserved as he looked at the trio and asked, "Mind if I sit here?"


    "Of course, go ahead," they all said in unison.


    Cedric took a seat beside Harry, then turned to him and said, "Actually, Harry, I wanted to talk to you about something."


    "What is it?" Harry opened a bag of Bertie Bott¡¯s Every Flavor Beans, picked out a brown one for himself, and handed the bag to Cedric so he could take one too.


    Cedric pulled out a bright red bean, examined it in his palm, and said, "I¡­ well, I heard that you started a dueling club in Gryffindor. Is that true?"


    "Yeah." Harry popped his bean into his mouth and bit down lightly.


    Chocolate flavor. Delicious.


    "Oh, I see." Cedric followed suit and ate his jellybean¡ªonly to immediately contort his face in pain, his handsome features scrunching up as his cheeks flushed red.


    Ron stifled a chuckle, clearly amused by Cedric¡¯s misfortune.


    Hermione nudged him lightly with her elbow, signaling him not to be so obvious about his schadenfreude.


    "Chili-flavored," Cedric wheezed.


    Harry reached for an unopened bottle of Coke from the table and handed it to Cedric. Cedric accepted it, popped it open with a crisp hiss, and took two quick gulps. Only then did he finally rid himself of the fiery sensation.


    "Alright, I have to admit, Muggle drinks are quite magical¡ªlook at these bubbles!" Cedric marveled before getting back to the topic. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you¡ªwould it be possible for Hufflepuff students to join your dueling club?"


    "No problem." Harry had no objections to welcoming some Hufflepuffs. "But just one thing¡ªdon¡¯t let the professors find out. The club involves practicing some harmless little jinxes."


    At the mention of "harmless little jinxes," Hermione¡¯s eyes widened in alarm.


    Merlin¡¯s beard! Are you seriously planning to teach those kinds of spells in the dueling club?!


    Poor Cedric, still oblivious to the implications, simply smiled in delight.


    "Thank you, Harry, really! I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re actually agreeing to this. You know, before I came here, a lot of people doubted I could convince you. They thought you wouldn¡¯t accept students from other houses."


    Harry smiled.


    "We¡¯re all Hogwarts students, Ced. I can call you that, right?"


    "Of course, Harry." Cedric looked even more pleased. "If it¡¯s for dueling, practicing a few harmless jinxes really shouldn¡¯t be a big deal. After all, how can we defend against something if we don¡¯t understand it? Besides, we need useful spells to stand up against the dark wizards out there."


    "Exactly," Harry said with a smile. "Just as you said, the purpose of our dueling club is to help students understand the dangers of the world."


    "Alright then, Harry. Thanks again." Cedric stood up. "I should get going. They¡¯re waiting for me to bring back an answer."


    "Alright. See you later, Ced." Harry nodded.


    Ron and Hermione also bid farewell to the sunny and cheerful Hufflepuff as he turned and left the compartment.


    As soon as Cedric shut the door behind him, Hermione could no longer contain herself.


    "Merlin¡¯s beard! Harry, are you seriously planning to teach them those¡­ those jinxes?"


    "What¡¯s got you so worked up, Hermione?" Harry looked at her, puzzled.


    "Am I worked up?" Hermione huffed, planting her hands on her hips. "Harry, I really need to correct you on this. Don¡¯t let certain families influence your way of thinking¡­"


    Certain families?


    Harry immediately guessed¡ªshe must be talking about the Gaunt family.


    "You¡¯ve got it all wrong, Hermione. They really are just harmless little jinxes," Harry said with a grin. "You don¡¯t always have to let your mind run wild."


    "Oh? Oh!" Hermione froze for a moment, then realization dawned on her.


    "So, they¡¯re truly just harmless little jinxes. I thought you meant¡­" Hermione hesitated, waving her hands in the air as if trying to grasp the right words, but ultimately couldn¡¯t bring herself to say them aloud. "¡­something else."


    "The Imperius Curse?" Harry raised an eyebrow.


    Hermione shot him an exasperated look. "Did you really have to say that out loud, Potter?"


    "It¡¯s actually part of our curriculum," Harry told her. "The Imperius Curse¡­ is something you¡¯ll be learning in the next stage of training."


    Hermione froze, and her licorice wand slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud.


    "Wait, what did you just say?" she asked in disbelief.


    "The Imperius Curse. That¡¯s our next learning objective," Ron repeated nonchalantly. "Unless I misheard."


    Hey, learning is learning¡ªwhat does it matter what we¡¯re studying?


    Ron had already accepted it. Following Harry¡¯s lead was a safe bet¡ªafter all, not even the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor or the Dark Lord himself could best him, right?


    "Won¡¯t the Ministry of Magic arrest us for learning that?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with despair. "Merlin¡¯s beard, if someone finds out, we could be expelled¡­"


    "Not if we don¡¯t get caught." Harry crossed his legs and said, "This spell is a bit special, Hermione. You should know¡ªrepeated exposure to it can build resistance. I¡¯m not teaching you to master the spell itself, but to strengthen your willpower so you can resist it."


    See? That¡¯s the art of persuasion.


    Hearing Harry¡¯s explanation, Hermione found the idea much easier to accept.


    "Alright, if that¡¯s the case, I suppose it¡¯s worth practicing," Hermione said at last. "After all, dark wizards won¡¯t be playing fair. Right, Ron?"


    "Right," Ron agreed without hesitation.


    As the train neared the station, Harry and the others changed into their regular clothes.


    Finally, the Hogwarts Express came to a gradual halt at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.


    The disembarkation process was slow, and they spent quite some time in the long queue before finally stepping off the platform.


    A wizened old guard stood at the ticketing gate, allowing only two or three people through at a time to prevent a large crowd from suddenly emerging from the solid brick wall, which might alarm the Muggles.


    "You have to visit my house this summer, Harry," Ron invited. "You have no idea¡ªMum keeps going on about you¡­"


    "Alright, no problem."


    Harry patted Ron¡¯s arm. He had already planned to visit.


    "Once I¡¯ve taken care of a few things, I¡¯ll stop by The Burrow."


    As they exited the station, Harry spotted Mrs. Weasley waiting with Ginny, there to pick up Ron, the twins, and Percy.


    He sincerely thanked her for his Christmas gift and once again confirmed his summer visit.


    Stepping out onto the streets, he took a deep breath.


    Hmm¡­


    Next stop, the Leaky Cauldron?


    No¡ªfirst, Knockturn Alley for supplies. After all, if he was going to practice "harmless little jinxes," he couldn¡¯t do so without a backup wand, now could he?


    ----


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 Chapter 103: Stocking Up in Knockturn Alley

    While at school, Harry did indeed write to Uncle Vernon, but he hadn¡¯t asked him to come and pick him up¡ªhe had merely sent a polite note saying, ¡°I¡¯m coming back.¡±


    Of course¡­ he had chosen his words very carefully, making sure to avoid offending his rather sensitive uncle.


    What he hadn¡¯t expected was that Uncle Vernon would actually send a reply via Hedwig, and even more surprisingly, he had asked when Harry would be returning.


    That left Harry quite puzzled.


    At the station entrance, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of Muggle currency.


    He hailed a taxi and plopped himself into the seat.


    His trunk was already packed away in a small pouch enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, and Hedwig was keeping Poppy company, so he traveled light, with no heavy luggage to drag around.


    Magic was truly marvelous.


    ¡°Nice weather today, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    The taxi driver, a middle-aged man, struck up a conversation as soon as Harry got in.


    Harry glanced out the window. The sky was overcast and ambiguous, as if undecided on whether it would rain or not.


    ¡°Indeed, it is,¡± he replied.


    The journey was filled with sporadic small talk, but traffic was terrible, and they hit one jam after another.


    By the time Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, nearly an hour had passed.


    He stepped inside, and as soon as old Tom saw him, he hurried forward.


    ¡°Potter¡ªMr. Potter! What an honor¡­¡± he gushed.


    ¡°Hello, Tom,¡± Harry greeted him. ¡°I need a room.¡±


    Tom led him upstairs and arranged a room for him.


    Once Tom left, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the Aging Potion he had prepared in advance.


    Moments later, a seventeen-year-old Harry stood in the room.


    He changed into a fresh set of clothes and tucked the remaining Aging Potion into his pocket for later use.


    After some thought, he also pulled out a pair of black gloves and put them on before stepping out of the room.


    The Leaky Cauldron was always lively, and the sudden appearance of a seventeen-year-old Harry didn¡¯t attract any attention.


    He walked up to the brick wall, tapped it in the correct sequence, and watched as the entrance to Diagon Alley unfolded before him.


    His first stop wasn¡¯t Knockturn Alley; instead, he decided to grab a bite at a restaurant in Diagon Alley.


    He hadn¡¯t eaten much during the ride, and the light breakfast he had in the morning had long since been digested.


    After a satisfying meal, Harry stretched lazily before getting up and leaving the restaurant.


    He had to admit¡ªwizarding French cuisine was surprisingly authentic and delicious.


    This time, when he entered Knockturn Alley, no one tried to give him trouble.


    Dark wizards weren¡¯t fools. Ever since Dawima had suffered a humiliating defeat, they had become more cautious¡ªespecially wary of men wearing glasses.


    Harry had concealed his scar with a spell, but he was still curious.


    Huh, why hasn¡¯t anyone tried to pick a fight with me?


    If this keeps up, how am I supposed to get wands?


    After a quick calculation¡ªone for Ron, one for Hermione, one for Neville, Seamus, Cedric¡­ not to mention any new students who might join their group¡ªHarry figured it was best to prepare ahead and stock up on extra wands.


    But with no dark wizards stepping forward, things weren¡¯t unfolding as expected.


    After some thought, he decided to check out Borgin and Burkes first.


    Pushing open the door, he found the shop as empty as usual, with no one standing behind the counter.


    Harry walked up and rang the bell.


    A moment later, Mr. Borgin appeared behind the counter.


    ¡°Oh! My most esteemed Mr. Sebastian!¡± Borgin oozed with exaggerated delight, extending both hands. ¡°What an honor! What an absolute honor to see you again!¡±


    His obsequious attitude wasn¡¯t without reason. The last time ¡°Sebastian¡ªMind Your Own Bloody Business¡± had visited, his companion, Dawima, had been turned into a Flobberworm and squashed underfoot, guts splattering everywhere.


    Having run a shady business for years, Borgin had developed an exceptional knack for reading people, and the moment he laid eyes on ¡°Sebastian,¡± he knew this was someone not to be trifled with.


    Naturally, he also understood why Sebastian had such a bad temper¡ªpowerful people had every right to be irritable.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Harry gave him a perfunctory handshake before withdrawing his hand. ¡°Mr. Borgin, I need some rare goods. Last time, I saw that you were a man of resources, so¡­ I hope you won¡¯t disappoint me.¡±


    ¡°But of course!¡± Borgin thumped his bony chest with pride. ¡°Here in Knockturn Alley, there is nothing a customer desires that my shop cannot provide!¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Harry casually wiped his holly wand with his gloved hand.


    Borgin¡¯s eyes locked onto the wand, his gaze momentarily transfixed.


    But after two seconds, he retracted his stare.


    ¡°What can I procure for you today?¡± Borgin asked.


    ¡°Phoenix tears¡ªdo you have any?¡± Harry inquired.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Borgin nodded enthusiastically. ¡°And cheaper than the market price. Just two Galleons and seven Sickles.¡±


    As he spoke, he took out a small vial and held it up for display.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take some,¡± Harry said. ¡°Give me two ounces of phoenix tears.¡±


    Borgin made some calculations and then said, ¡°That will be nine Galleons and eleven Sickles.¡±


    ¡°Counting money is such a tedious task, isn¡¯t it?¡± Harry remarked as he handed over the coins.


    ¡°Indeed, indeed,¡± Borgin agreed fervently. After verifying the payment, he smiled and asked, ¡°Anything else, Mr. Sebastian?¡±


    ¡°I need a dragon¡¯s heart.¡±


    Borgin hesitated. ¡°Ah¡­ well¡­¡±


    ¡°What? Don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t have one?¡± Harry raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°No, no,¡± Borgin quickly assured him, grinning. ¡°It¡¯s just that dragon hearts are in high demand, and as for the price¡­¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s reasonable, I¡¯ll buy it,¡± Harry said indifferently.


    ¡°Excellent, excellent.¡± Borgin nodded quickly. ¡°I happen to have a Hebridean Black dragon heart. It¡¯s a bit pricey¡ªthirty-six Galleons, ten Sickles, and seven Knuts.¡±


    ¡°Why such an odd number?¡± Harry frowned. ¡°How about this¡ªif you sell it for thirty Galleons, I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    He had no intention of being ripped off. The last time he bought a dragon heart, it hadn¡¯t been this expensive.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible!¡± Borgin wailed dramatically. ¡°Mr. Sebastian, my dragon hearts are fresh! Less than two days old, freshly extracted and preserved with the finest magic. My price is absolutely fair and honest!¡±


    ¡°That price doesn¡¯t work for me,¡± Harry remained unmoved, absentmindedly twirling his wand while examining the engravings at its base.


    ¡°Mr. Sebastian, think about it¡ªwhere else in Knockturn Alley can you find a dragon heart?¡± Borgin tried to persuade him. ¡°The Ministry strictly regulates their sale; you need a license and a valid reason. Who else but me can provide a dragon heart with no paperwork required?¡±


    ¡°Thirty Galleons,¡± Harry repeated, unfazed.


    ¡°Thirty-two, Mr. Sebastian,¡± Borgin sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll sell it at cost¡ªjust to make a friend.¡±


    ¡°Thirty,¡± Harry countered with a raised brow.


    "Thirty-one!" Mr. Borgin sighed. "Don''t make me lose too much money... Business in the black market isn''t exactly profitable these days."


    "Thirty Galleons." Harry remained unmoved.


    Mr. Borgin took a deep breath.


    "Alright, fine! I''ll take a loss and sell it to you!" He gritted his teeth, as if this deal was costing him a fortune. "But since you''ll be visiting my shop often, consider this a gesture of friendship!"


    He turned around and retrieved a small enchanted box from beneath the counter.


    "Inside here is the heart of a Hebridean Black Dragon." Mr. Borgin carefully opened the box and displayed it to Harry.


    Harry, of course, knew exactly what it was. After confirming that the item was genuine, he shut the box and slipped the heart into his pocket.


    Then, he placed thirty Galleons neatly on the counter.


    "Much obliged, esteemed sir," Mr. Borgin said slickly.


    Internally, he was laughing¡ªthis deal had earned him a solid six-Galleon profit!


    Harry looked at Mr. Borgin with a knowing smirk. He was well aware that the man had made a profit from this transaction.


    But he wasn¡¯t one to push things too far. After all, acquiring a dragon heart was no easy feat, and letting the seller earn a little wasn¡¯t an issue.


    Besides, Mr. Borgin wasn¡¯t lying¡ªthere was nowhere else to buy this item.


    "One more thing," Harry said. "I need Basilisk fangs."


    Mr. Borgin froze.


    "Pardon?"


    It wasn¡¯t that he hadn¡¯t heard¡ªhe simply couldn¡¯t believe what Harry had just requested.


    "I said, I need some Basilisk fangs." Harry spoke casually, picking up some sand from the table and rolling it between his fingers. "This is Sands of Time, isn¡¯t it? Weigh out five ounces for me."


    "Of course, esteemed sir." Mr. Borgin scooped out five ounces of the Sands of Time with a small shovel. Then, with an apologetic look, he added, "I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Sebastian, but I don¡¯t have any Basilisk fangs."


    "Didn¡¯t you say you could get anything?" Harry asked, watching him leisurely.


    Mr. Borgin hurriedly waved his hands. "But Basilisk fangs aren¡¯t included in that! Basilisks are magical creatures banned from breeding by the Ministry of Magic. If I had a source for Basilisk fangs, I¡¯d certainly sell them¡ªthey¡¯re not illegal to trade¡ªbut I simply don¡¯t have a supplier."


    "Then do you know where I can find a Basilisk?" Harry asked.


    "That... I really don¡¯t know," Mr. Borgin shook his head. "Basilisks are incredibly rare creatures. They can¡¯t be tamed and only obey Parseltongue commands. But ever since the Gaunt family died out, who among us is a natural Parselmouth? No one raises them anymore."


    The Gaunt family had died out?


    Harry felt a moment of nostalgia, but not sympathy.


    After all, aside from Ominis Gaunt, a rare ray of light in that twisted lineage, the rest of the family had been nothing but vile individuals.


    Calling them mentally deranged would be a compliment.


    "What about Greece?" Harry asked again. "I remember that Greek wizards were fond of breeding Basilisks. The infamous Herpo the Foul was the first to create one. Are you telling me there are none left in Greece either?"


    "The Greek Ministry of Magic strictly forbids the breeding of such monsters," Mr. Borgin sighed. "Alas."


    "Alas," Harry echoed, shaking his head. "What a shame that such a fine tradition hasn¡¯t been passed down."


    Mr. Borgin suddenly looked up and shot "Sebastian" a complicated glance.


    Good grief, you...


    What kind of ¡®fine tradition¡¯ is that? Do you have some kind of misunderstanding about the meaning of ¡®fine tradition¡¯?!


    That said, Mr. Borgin did, in some way, agree with Harry.


    Basilisk fangs and shed Basilisk skins were both rare commodities¡ªevery use diminished the already limited supply.


    Everyone knew someone was secretly breeding Basilisks¡ªsuch materials were simply too scarce.


    But everyone also knew that raising a Basilisk was a one-way ticket to Azkaban. No one dared to leak any information.


    "Well then, I¡¯ll take my leave." Harry politely inclined his head toward Mr. Borgin. "May Merlin guide your path, Mr. Borgin."


    "And you as well, Mr. Sebastian," Mr. Borgin replied with equal courtesy.


    With this trip to Knockturn Alley, Harry had achieved half his goals.


    All that remained for unlocking the Slytherin study was the Angel¡¯s Feather stored in Gringotts.


    And then, there were the wands he planned to acquire for his Duel House classmates¡ªcurrently in the possession of Knockturn Alley''s Dark wizards.


    He could, of course, buy wands from Ollivanders.


    But that would cost money, wouldn¡¯t it?


    Since he could acquire them for free, why bother paying?


    Harry was nothing if not pragmatic.


    He planned to borrow some wands from the Dark wizards.


    And since they weren¡¯t coming to him, he¡¯d simply go to them.


    With that in mind, Harry pulled his hood lower and strode forward.


    Entering a dim alleyway, he looked around and spotted a tightly shut door.


    "Revelio!"


    With the detection spell, Harry saw the Dark wizard lying inside the house.


    He politely knocked on the door.


    "Who is it?"


    A coarse voice came from within.


    Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a face that immediately marked its owner as a miscreant.


    The wizard grinned menacingly.


    "What do you want, kid?"


    "Hello, I¡¯d like to borrow your wand," Harry said, ever so politely.


    At those words, the wizard flared with anger.


    "Are you mocking me, you bespectacled brat?! Do you have any idea that I¡¯m fresh out of Azkaban¡ª"


    "Oh, so you¡¯re unwilling."


    Harry raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger at the wizard¡¯s chest.


    "Then I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to excuse me¡ªImperio!"


    ----


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 Chapter 104: Goblin: My Ancestors Are Screaming!

    The Dark wizard before him never expected that this young man would start by using soul projection on him.


    More importantly, he did it wandlessly.


    Dear Merlin, who could understand this? Were people these days just casually casting Unforgivable Curses without wands?


    He felt as if he were floating among the clouds, surrounded by soft billows, sinking into boundless bliss.


    Under the young man''s command, he obediently handed over his wand.


    And even gave up a rare bottle of Elixir of Life and Death from his private collection. However, Lord Potter was kind-hearted¡ªhe couldn''t bear to rob the poor¡ªso he spared him the three silver Sickles and eleven bronze Knuts in his pockets.


    Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed several photographs hanging on the walls of the Dark wizard¡¯s home, each marked with a red cross.


    "What are those?" Harry asked.


    "My contracts," the Dark wizard admitted honestly. "I take assassination jobs from Muggles now and then. How else do you think I make money?"


    Harry thought for a moment and decided that this Dark wizard might actually be quite useful.


    After all, the students in the Dueling Shack couldn''t always just practice friendly duels or spar with classmates. They needed real combat experience.


    And this Dark wizard? Wasn''t he the perfect live target¡ªer, training material?


    "You''re hired."


    Leaving behind those cryptic words, Harry turned and left the wizard¡¯s house.


    The Dark wizard stood there, utterly bewildered, completely unable to grasp what just happened.


    After wandering through the alley for a bit, Harry used Homenum Revelio to locate his next target.


    As soon as the door opened, a strange, indescribable smell wafted out. It was as if something had been marinating for far too long.


    "What are you cooking?" Harry asked curiously.


    "Who are you?" the wizard inside asked warily.


    "Oh, I¡¯m just here to borrow your wand," Harry answered honestly.


    "Here, take it. Now get lost."


    The wizard impatiently shoved a wand into Harry¡¯s hands before turning around and slamming the door shut.


    Leaving Harry standing outside, completely baffled.


    Wait¡­ that was way too easy?


    He raised the wand, giving it a flick.


    It was real. Not one of those joke wands from Zonkos or licorice wands from the candy shop.


    A cold feeling settled in Harry¡¯s gut.


    If he handed over his wand that quickly¡­ he definitely had something to hide!


    So, gripping the wand tightly, Harry tested the door handle before stepping back to cast Alohomora.


    "Bombarda Maxima!"


    With a flash of fire and an earth-shattering explosion, the door¡ªalong with the entire front wall of the house¡ªwas obliterated.


    Covered in dust and coughing, the wizard inside looked up in sheer disbelief.


    I already gave you my damn wand! What more do you want?!


    "Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "I meant to cast Alohomora, but I forgot the incantation. Hope you don¡¯t mind."


    "Didn¡¯t you just say it?!" the wizard asked in despair.


    Harry nodded politely. "And that¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m apologizing."


    As he spoke, his gaze swept around the room. As expected, this wizard was no ordinary spellcaster.


    His house resembled Professor Snape¡¯s dungeon office, only far more sinister and gruesome.


    Green glass jars lined the walls, filled with floating organs and various body parts. Harry even spotted a severed human head suspended in a jar.


    "So¡­ this wand isn¡¯t actually yours, is it?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.


    The wizard was still panting heavily, trying to make sense of the terrifying young man before him. He only knew that Dawima had fallen at his feet.


    "That has nothing to do with you, kid¡ªI''ve already given you my wand. Now, let me get back to my experiments."


    Harry¡¯s gaze flickered past him¡ªto the bound man behind him.


    The captive''s eyes were wide with terror, his mouth completely sealed by magic. Judging by his clothing, he was clearly a Muggle.


    Without hesitation, Harry pointed at the man, instantly dispelling the enchantment on his mouth.


    "Help!" The man gasped for air.


    "A Muggle?" Harry asked the Dark wizard. "Why did you kidnap him?"


    The wizard suddenly reached into his robes¡ª


    But Harry was faster.


    With a snap of his fingers, the wizard transformed into a spider.


    Guided by an ancient curse, the spider shot toward Harry¡¯s feet.


    Splat.


    The spider burst under his shoe, its insides splattering everywhere, sticking to the sole of his boot.


    Seeing this, the Muggle man''s eyes went impossibly wide.


    Jesus Christ, what the actual fxxk¡­


    He swallowed hard, mentally reviewing every good deed he had ever done and praying fervently to God.


    "You''re safe now, sir," Harry said softly.


    "Th-thank you¡ªthank you!" The rescued man panted, still trembling. "Dear God, he was a monster! Are you¡­ are you the same as him?"


    "That depends on how you see it," Harry replied with a gentle smile.


    "I think you must be a good man, sir." The man''s eyes welled with tears. "My name is John¡ªJohn Strauss."


    He quickly continued, "That¡ªthat evil wizard kidnapped so many of us¡ªpeople like me who can''t use magic. Many of them are already dead. Thank you, great sir, you saved me just before he could torture me... There are still two people alive in the basement. Please, you must¡ª"


    "Go bring them up," Harry instructed, raising his wand toward the doorway. "Reparo!"


    Under John¡¯s awestruck gaze, the shattered bricks flew back into place as if pulled by invisible threads. Within moments, the house was fully restored.


    Harry gave him a nod.


    John rushed downstairs, and soon returned with a man and a woman, both trembling.


    "Thank you, wizard sir," the two sobbed. "We thought we were going to die here¡­"


    "At least you''re alive, aren¡¯t you?" Harry replied. "Were all of you Muggles? Oh, I mean, were all of his victims non-magical?"


    "Two of them knew magic," the woman said, pointing to one of the floating heads in the jars.


    As soon as she finished, her face went pale, and she promptly threw up on the floor.


    "What was he doing to you?" Harry asked.


    "We don¡¯t know," the three answered honestly.


    Then John suddenly added, "Wait¡ªlast night, I think I saw someone in the basement. He had black hair¡­ but I might have been seeing things. His body seemed transparent¡­"


    "Transparent?" Harry frowned. "Like a ghost? What did he look like?"


    "Very handsome. Kind of like a young Byrne Anderson¡ªbut even more beautiful," John said.


    Harry noted down this detail and continued asking, "Anything else?¡ªI mean, any distinguishing physical features of this person?"


    "I don¡¯t remember, just these things," John replied.


    "What about you two?" Harry turned to the remaining two people.


    Both shook their heads, indicating they didn¡¯t know.


    Harry nodded and said, "Alright¡ªthat''s all I wanted to ask. In a moment, I''ll escort you out of Knockturn Alley¡ªthis place is a gathering spot for Dark Wizards. For people like you who can¡¯t use magic... it¡¯s a bit dangerous."


    "Understood, thank you," the three of them nodded rapidly in unison.


    They had already experienced enough in the past few days to know Harry wasn¡¯t lying.


    "Then... Mr. Wizard," the woman asked, "are you... the police of the wizarding world?"


    "No, I¡¯m not an Auror," Harry said with a smile. "I¡¯m just an ordinary student who longs for a normal life."


    Hearing this, the three looked at him with newfound respect.


    No way, with such strength... he¡¯s still a student?


    Could it be that all students in the wizarding world are this powerful?


    Harry knew what they were thinking. He shrugged and curled his lips slightly. "Alright, maybe I¡¯m a little special."


    When he escorted them out of Knockturn Alley, Harry reluctantly accompanied them to the bank to accept his "reward."


    It wasn¡¯t much money, and judging by their background, they seemed well-off. In any case¡­ Harry gained a sum of British pounds, which he deposited into his personal account.


    Given their gratitude, Harry didn¡¯t cast Obliviate on them.


    After all, he was just an ordinary Hogwarts student¡ªerasing Muggle memories wasn¡¯t his responsibility.


    However, he thoughtfully used a spell to blur parts of their memories that they shouldn¡¯t have seen, such as the severed head in the jar and the various internal organs.


    "Goodbye, Wizard schoolmate."


    The three waved to Harry in gratitude.


    Harry waved back in farewell.


    He didn¡¯t forget to pull out an Aging Potion from his pocket and take a sip to extend its effect.


    Standing at the bank¡¯s entrance, Harry was still pondering what John had mentioned.


    That young man¡¯s soul¡­ just who was he? What connection did he have with that Dark Wizard?


    Thinking about it, Harry suddenly felt a bit regretful.


    Damn, I killed him too quickly!


    He had been too focused on eliminating a threat for the greater good.


    Sometimes, being too decisive in killing didn¡¯t seem like a great thing.


    But since it was done, Harry decided not to dwell on it.


    He had come to a Muggle bank, but he had yet to visit the wizarding bank¡ªthere were still important materials waiting for him in Veratia¡¯s personal vault.


    As for that small fortune, Harry had no intention of using it. When Veratia returned, she might need the money¡ªfor something like purchasing property, perhaps.


    With that thought, Harry made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.


    Old Tom didn¡¯t recognize him. Seeing him head straight for the brick wall after entering the pub, he said nothing and simply continued mixing drinks at the bar.


    Passing through the brick wall, Harry arrived at Gringotts once again.


    The bank remained unchanged since his last visit. Goblins scurried about, while some wizards sat at the counters handling transactions, or followed goblins deep underground to access their vaults.


    Harry glanced around and spotted a familiar face¡ªthe goblin who had assisted him last time, named Ragnok.


    Believing that familiar faces made business easier, Harry plopped himself down in front of the counter.


    "Name," Ragnok said without looking up.


    "Harry Potter," Harry replied, making no effort to conceal his real name.


    Ragnok let out a grunt.


    "Oh, Harry Potter. Didn¡¯t you withdraw money last year?"


    As he said this, something felt off.


    He looked up at Harry, a bit hesitant.


    "I recall... last year, you were just a first-year student, weren¡¯t you?"


    Ragnok¡¯s small eyes scanned Harry up and down, internally wondering¡ªdo human children grow this fast? Disappear for a short while, and suddenly they¡¯re unrecognizable?


    What the hell were you eating at Hogwarts? Magical plant fertilizer?


    However, he didn¡¯t dwell on it and simply resumed sorting his documents. He said casually, "Alright, the Potter family vault, right? Even though it¡¯s you personally, you still need to present the vault key¡ªthat¡¯s the rule of Gringotts, you understand, don¡¯t you, Mr. Potter?"


    "No, I¡¯m not here for the Potter family vault. I need access to a different one," Harry said.


    "A different one?" Ragnok looked up.


    "Yes, another one," Harry replied, pulling out the vault number Veratia had dictated to him. "Vault 313."


    "Vault 313, hold on a moment, Mr. Potter." Ragnok crouched down and retrieved a thick stack of documents from beneath the counter. "Apologies, but I don¡¯t have much impression of this vault¡ªit seems no one has accessed it for many years. Please wait while I check."


    "Alright," Harry said understandingly.


    After a short while, Ragnok hesitated and looked up.


    "Vault 313? The one managed by Miss Veratia Elizabeth Amalie Grindelwald from the Austro-Hungarian Empire a century ago?"


    "Yes," Harry nodded.


    "According to this, the proof of ownership seems to be a wand," Ragnok said, still unaware of the gravity of the situation. "Holly, phoenix feather core, eleven inches, embedded with a ruby, featuring red veins¡ªand the bottom of the wand is engraved with the name ''Veratia.''"


    "Oh." Harry hadn¡¯t noticed the ''Veratia'' engraving before. He took out the wand and examined the bottom. Sure enough, it was exactly as Ragnok described.


    He raised his head, intending to show the wand to Ragnok, but then noticed the goblin¡¯s face was contorted in sheer terror as he stared at the wand in Harry¡¯s hand.


    Hmm?


    Oh, Harry suddenly remembered. This wand¡­


    He had used it to kill some goblins before.


    Perhaps, for goblins, this thing was a terrifying symbol?


    With that thought, Harry glanced at the wand again, only to realize it was now glowing with an eerie red light.


    Crap, he thought. I should¡¯ve put it away.


    But it was too late¡ª


    A surge of powerful magical energy erupted from the tip of the wand, spreading across the entire Gringotts hall!


    The wizards in the bank, who had been withdrawing money or handling transactions, suddenly noticed that the goblins before them had expressions of utter terror.


    Not just the goblins behind the counters¡ªeven the security guards at the entrance were trembling as they dropped to their knees, clutching their heads, and letting out terrified screams.


    "Wh-what is this?!"


    "My ancestors are screaming!"


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "I can smell my kin¡¯s blood!"


    The wand in Harry¡¯s hand seemed to tremble with excitement, its red veins pulsating with a ghostly light, vibrating intensely, as if it were craving battle.


    At this moment, Harry finally realized what had just happened¡ª


    The wand had sensed its prey and was now unleashing an aura of pure fear!


    The Dark wizard before him never expected that this young man would start by using soul projection on him.


    More importantly, he did it wandlessly.


    Dear Merlin, who could understand this? Were people these days just casually casting Unforgivable Curses without wands?


    He felt as if he were floating among the clouds, surrounded by soft billows, sinking into boundless bliss.


    Under the young man''s command, he obediently handed over his wand.


    And even gave up a rare bottle of Elixir of Life and Death from his private collection. However, Lord Potter was kind-hearted¡ªhe couldn''t bear to rob the poor¡ªso he spared him the three silver Sickles and eleven bronze Knuts in his pockets.


    Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed several photographs hanging on the walls of the Dark wizard¡¯s home, each marked with a red cross.


    "What are those?" Harry asked.


    "My contracts," the Dark wizard admitted honestly. "I take assassination jobs from Muggles now and then. How else do you think I make money?"


    Harry thought for a moment and decided that this Dark wizard might actually be quite useful.


    After all, the students in the Dueling Shack couldn''t always just practice friendly duels or spar with classmates. They needed real combat experience.


    And this Dark wizard? Wasn''t he the perfect live target¡ªer, training material?


    "You''re hired."


    Leaving behind those cryptic words, Harry turned and left the wizard¡¯s house.


    The Dark wizard stood there, utterly bewildered, completely unable to grasp what just happened.


    After wandering through the alley for a bit, Harry used Homenum Revelio to locate his next target.


    As soon as the door opened, a strange, indescribable smell wafted out. It was as if something had been marinating for far too long.


    "What are you cooking?" Harry asked curiously.


    "Who are you?" the wizard inside asked warily.


    "Oh, I¡¯m just here to borrow your wand," Harry answered honestly.


    "Here, take it. Now get lost."


    The wizard impatiently shoved a wand into Harry¡¯s hands before turning around and slamming the door shut.


    Leaving Harry standing outside, completely baffled.


    Wait¡­ that was way too easy?


    He raised the wand, giving it a flick.


    It was real. Not one of those joke wands from Zonkos or licorice wands from the candy shop.


    A cold feeling settled in Harry¡¯s gut.


    If he handed over his wand that quickly¡­ he definitely had something to hide!


    So, gripping the wand tightly, Harry tested the door handle before stepping back to cast Alohomora.


    "Bombarda Maxima!"


    With a flash of fire and an earth-shattering explosion, the door¡ªalong with the entire front wall of the house¡ªwas obliterated.


    Covered in dust and coughing, the wizard inside looked up in sheer disbelief.


    I already gave you my damn wand! What more do you want?!


    "Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "I meant to cast Alohomora, but I forgot the incantation. Hope you don¡¯t mind."


    "Didn¡¯t you just say it?!" the wizard asked in despair.


    Harry nodded politely. "And that¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m apologizing."


    As he spoke, his gaze swept around the room. As expected, this wizard was no ordinary spellcaster.


    His house resembled Professor Snape¡¯s dungeon office, only far more sinister and gruesome.


    Green glass jars lined the walls, filled with floating organs and various body parts. Harry even spotted a severed human head suspended in a jar.


    "So¡­ this wand isn¡¯t actually yours, is it?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.


    The wizard was still panting heavily, trying to make sense of the terrifying young man before him. He only knew that Dawima had fallen at his feet.


    "That has nothing to do with you, kid¡ªI''ve already given you my wand. Now, let me get back to my experiments."


    Harry¡¯s gaze flickered past him¡ªto the bound man behind him.


    The captive''s eyes were wide with terror, his mouth completely sealed by magic. Judging by his clothing, he was clearly a Muggle.


    Without hesitation, Harry pointed at the man, instantly dispelling the enchantment on his mouth.


    "Help!" The man gasped for air.


    "A Muggle?" Harry asked the Dark wizard. "Why did you kidnap him?"


    The wizard suddenly reached into his robes¡ª


    But Harry was faster.


    With a snap of his fingers, the wizard transformed into a spider.


    Guided by an ancient curse, the spider shot toward Harry¡¯s feet.


    Splat.


    The spider burst under his shoe, its insides splattering everywhere, sticking to the sole of his boot.


    Seeing this, the Muggle man''s eyes went impossibly wide.


    Jesus Christ, what the actual fxxk¡­


    He swallowed hard, mentally reviewing every good deed he had ever done and praying fervently to God.


    "You''re safe now, sir," Harry said softly.


    "Th-thank you¡ªthank you!" The rescued man panted, still trembling. "Dear God, he was a monster! Are you¡­ are you the same as him?"


    "That depends on how you see it," Harry replied with a gentle smile.


    "I think you must be a good man, sir." The man''s eyes welled with tears. "My name is John¡ªJohn Strauss."


    He quickly continued, "That¡ªthat evil wizard kidnapped so many of us¡ªpeople like me who can''t use magic. Many of them are already dead. Thank you, great sir, you saved me just before he could torture me... There are still two people alive in the basement. Please, you must¡ª"


    "Go bring them up," Harry instructed, raising his wand toward the doorway. "Reparo!"


    Under John¡¯s awestruck gaze, the shattered bricks flew back into place as if pulled by invisible threads. Within moments, the house was fully restored.


    Harry gave him a nod.


    John rushed downstairs, and soon returned with a man and a woman, both trembling.


    "Thank you, wizard sir," the two sobbed. "We thought we were going to die here¡­"


    "At least you''re alive, aren¡¯t you?" Harry replied. "Were all of you Muggles? Oh, I mean, were all of his victims non-magical?"


    "Two of them knew magic," the woman said, pointing to one of the floating heads in the jars.


    As soon as she finished, her face went pale, and she promptly threw up on the floor.


    "What was he doing to you?" Harry asked.


    "We don¡¯t know," the three answered honestly.


    Then John suddenly added, "Wait¡ªlast night, I think I saw someone in the basement. He had black hair¡­ but I might have been seeing things. His body seemed transparent¡­"


    "Transparent?" Harry frowned. "Like a ghost? What did he look like?"


    "Very handsome. Kind of like a young Byrne Anderson¡ªbut even more beautiful," John said.


    Harry noted down this detail and continued asking, "Anything else?¡ªI mean, any distinguishing physical features of this person?"


    "I don¡¯t remember, just these things," John replied.


    "What about you two?" Harry turned to the remaining two people.


    Both shook their heads, indicating they didn¡¯t know.


    Harry nodded and said, "Alright¡ªthat''s all I wanted to ask. In a moment, I''ll escort you out of Knockturn Alley¡ªthis place is a gathering spot for Dark Wizards. For people like you who can¡¯t use magic... it¡¯s a bit dangerous."


    "Understood, thank you," the three of them nodded rapidly in unison.


    They had already experienced enough in the past few days to know Harry wasn¡¯t lying.


    "Then... Mr. Wizard," the woman asked, "are you... the police of the wizarding world?"


    "No, I¡¯m not an Auror," Harry said with a smile. "I¡¯m just an ordinary student who longs for a normal life."


    Hearing this, the three looked at him with newfound respect.


    No way, with such strength... he¡¯s still a student?


    Could it be that all students in the wizarding world are this powerful?


    Harry knew what they were thinking. He shrugged and curled his lips slightly. "Alright, maybe I¡¯m a little special."


    When he escorted them out of Knockturn Alley, Harry reluctantly accompanied them to the bank to accept his "reward."


    It wasn¡¯t much money, and judging by their background, they seemed well-off. In any case¡­ Harry gained a sum of British pounds, which he deposited into his personal account.


    Given their gratitude, Harry didn¡¯t cast Obliviate on them.


    After all, he was just an ordinary Hogwarts student¡ªerasing Muggle memories wasn¡¯t his responsibility.


    However, he thoughtfully used a spell to blur parts of their memories that they shouldn¡¯t have seen, such as the severed head in the jar and the various internal organs.


    "Goodbye, Wizard schoolmate."


    The three waved to Harry in gratitude.


    Harry waved back in farewell.


    He didn¡¯t forget to pull out an Aging Potion from his pocket and take a sip to extend its effect.


    Standing at the bank¡¯s entrance, Harry was still pondering what John had mentioned.


    That young man¡¯s soul¡­ just who was he? What connection did he have with that Dark Wizard?


    Thinking about it, Harry suddenly felt a bit regretful.


    Damn, I killed him too quickly!


    He had been too focused on eliminating a threat for the greater good.


    Sometimes, being too decisive in killing didn¡¯t seem like a great thing.


    But since it was done, Harry decided not to dwell on it.


    He had come to a Muggle bank, but he had yet to visit the wizarding bank¡ªthere were still important materials waiting for him in Veratia¡¯s personal vault.


    As for that small fortune, Harry had no intention of using it. When Veratia returned, she might need the money¡ªfor something like purchasing property, perhaps.


    With that thought, Harry made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.


    Old Tom didn¡¯t recognize him. Seeing him head straight for the brick wall after entering the pub, he said nothing and simply continued mixing drinks at the bar.


    Passing through the brick wall, Harry arrived at Gringotts once again.


    The bank remained unchanged since his last visit. Goblins scurried about, while some wizards sat at the counters handling transactions, or followed goblins deep underground to access their vaults.


    Harry glanced around and spotted a familiar face¡ªthe goblin who had assisted him last time, named Ragnok.


    Believing that familiar faces made business easier, Harry plopped himself down in front of the counter.


    "Name," Ragnok said without looking up.


    "Harry Potter," Harry replied, making no effort to conceal his real name.


    Ragnok let out a grunt.


    "Oh, Harry Potter. Didn¡¯t you withdraw money last year?"


    As he said this, something felt off.


    He looked up at Harry, a bit hesitant.


    "I recall... last year, you were just a first-year student, weren¡¯t you?"


    Ragnok¡¯s small eyes scanned Harry up and down, internally wondering¡ªdo human children grow this fast? Disappear for a short while, and suddenly they¡¯re unrecognizable?


    What the hell were you eating at Hogwarts? Magical plant fertilizer?


    However, he didn¡¯t dwell on it and simply resumed sorting his documents. He said casually, "Alright, the Potter family vault, right? Even though it¡¯s you personally, you still need to present the vault key¡ªthat¡¯s the rule of Gringotts, you understand, don¡¯t you, Mr. Potter?"


    "No, I¡¯m not here for the Potter family vault. I need access to a different one," Harry said.


    "A different one?" Ragnok looked up.


    "Yes, another one," Harry replied, pulling out the vault number Veratia had dictated to him. "Vault 313."


    "Vault 313, hold on a moment, Mr. Potter." Ragnok crouched down and retrieved a thick stack of documents from beneath the counter. "Apologies, but I don¡¯t have much impression of this vault¡ªit seems no one has accessed it for many years. Please wait while I check."


    "Alright," Harry said understandingly.


    After a short while, Ragnok hesitated and looked up.


    "Vault 313? The one managed by Miss Veratia Elizabeth Amalie Grindelwald from the Austro-Hungarian Empire a century ago?"


    "Yes," Harry nodded.


    "According to this, the proof of ownership seems to be a wand," Ragnok said, still unaware of the gravity of the situation. "Holly, phoenix feather core, eleven inches, embedded with a ruby, featuring red veins¡ªand the bottom of the wand is engraved with the name ''Veratia.''"


    "Oh." Harry hadn¡¯t noticed the ''Veratia'' engraving before. He took out the wand and examined the bottom. Sure enough, it was exactly as Ragnok described.


    He raised his head, intending to show the wand to Ragnok, but then noticed the goblin¡¯s face was contorted in sheer terror as he stared at the wand in Harry¡¯s hand.


    Hmm?


    Oh, Harry suddenly remembered. This wand¡­


    He had used it to kill some goblins before.


    Perhaps, for goblins, this thing was a terrifying symbol?


    With that thought, Harry glanced at the wand again, only to realize it was now glowing with an eerie red light.


    Crap, he thought. I should¡¯ve put it away.


    But it was too late¡ª


    A surge of powerful magical energy erupted from the tip of the wand, spreading across the entire Gringotts hall!


    The wizards in the bank, who had been withdrawing money or handling transactions, suddenly noticed that the goblins before them had expressions of utter terror.


    Not just the goblins behind the counters¡ªeven the security guards at the entrance were trembling as they dropped to their knees, clutching their heads, and letting out terrified screams.


    "Wh-what is this?!"


    "My ancestors are screaming!"


    "I can smell my kin¡¯s blood!"


    The wand in Harry¡¯s hand seemed to tremble with excitement, its red veins pulsating with a ghostly light, vibrating intensely, as if it were craving battle.


    At this moment, Harry finally realized what had just happened¡ª


    The wand had sensed its prey and was now unleashing an aura of pure fear!


    The Dark wizard before him never expected that this young man would start by using soul projection on him.


    More importantly, he did it wandlessly.


    Dear Merlin, who could understand this? Were people these days just casually casting Unforgivable Curses without wands?


    He felt as if he were floating among the clouds, surrounded by soft billows, sinking into boundless bliss.


    Under the young man''s command, he obediently handed over his wand.


    And even gave up a rare bottle of Elixir of Life and Death from his private collection. However, Lord Potter was kind-hearted¡ªhe couldn''t bear to rob the poor¡ªso he spared him the three silver Sickles and eleven bronze Knuts in his pockets.


    Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed several photographs hanging on the walls of the Dark wizard¡¯s home, each marked with a red cross.


    "What are those?" Harry asked.


    "My contracts," the Dark wizard admitted honestly. "I take assassination jobs from Muggles now and then. How else do you think I make money?"


    Harry thought for a moment and decided that this Dark wizard might actually be quite useful.


    After all, the students in the Dueling Shack couldn''t always just practice friendly duels or spar with classmates. They needed real combat experience.


    And this Dark wizard? Wasn''t he the perfect live target¡ªer, training material?


    "You''re hired."


    Leaving behind those cryptic words, Harry turned and left the wizard¡¯s house.


    The Dark wizard stood there, utterly bewildered, completely unable to grasp what just happened.


    After wandering through the alley for a bit, Harry used Homenum Revelio to locate his next target.


    As soon as the door opened, a strange, indescribable smell wafted out. It was as if something had been marinating for far too long.


    "What are you cooking?" Harry asked curiously.


    "Who are you?" the wizard inside asked warily.


    "Oh, I¡¯m just here to borrow your wand," Harry answered honestly.


    "Here, take it. Now get lost."


    The wizard impatiently shoved a wand into Harry¡¯s hands before turning around and slamming the door shut.


    Leaving Harry standing outside, completely baffled.


    Wait¡­ that was way too easy?


    He raised the wand, giving it a flick.


    It was real. Not one of those joke wands from Zonkos or licorice wands from the candy shop.


    A cold feeling settled in Harry¡¯s gut.


    If he handed over his wand that quickly¡­ he definitely had something to hide!


    So, gripping the wand tightly, Harry tested the door handle before stepping back to cast Alohomora.


    "Bombarda Maxima!"


    With a flash of fire and an earth-shattering explosion, the door¡ªalong with the entire front wall of the house¡ªwas obliterated.


    Covered in dust and coughing, the wizard inside looked up in sheer disbelief.


    I already gave you my damn wand! What more do you want?!


    "Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "I meant to cast Alohomora, but I forgot the incantation. Hope you don¡¯t mind."


    "Didn¡¯t you just say it?!" the wizard asked in despair.


    Harry nodded politely. "And that¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m apologizing."


    As he spoke, his gaze swept around the room. As expected, this wizard was no ordinary spellcaster.


    His house resembled Professor Snape¡¯s dungeon office, only far more sinister and gruesome.


    Green glass jars lined the walls, filled with floating organs and various body parts. Harry even spotted a severed human head suspended in a jar.


    "So¡­ this wand isn¡¯t actually yours, is it?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.


    The wizard was still panting heavily, trying to make sense of the terrifying young man before him. He only knew that Dawima had fallen at his feet.


    "That has nothing to do with you, kid¡ªI''ve already given you my wand. Now, let me get back to my experiments."


    Harry¡¯s gaze flickered past him¡ªto the bound man behind him.


    The captive''s eyes were wide with terror, his mouth completely sealed by magic. Judging by his clothing, he was clearly a Muggle.


    Without hesitation, Harry pointed at the man, instantly dispelling the enchantment on his mouth.


    "Help!" The man gasped for air.


    "A Muggle?" Harry asked the Dark wizard. "Why did you kidnap him?"


    The wizard suddenly reached into his robes¡ª


    But Harry was faster.


    With a snap of his fingers, the wizard transformed into a spider.


    Guided by an ancient curse, the spider shot toward Harry¡¯s feet.


    Splat.


    The spider burst under his shoe, its insides splattering everywhere, sticking to the sole of his boot.


    Seeing this, the Muggle man''s eyes went impossibly wide.


    Jesus Christ, what the actual fxxk¡­


    He swallowed hard, mentally reviewing every good deed he had ever done and praying fervently to God.


    "You''re safe now, sir," Harry said softly.


    "Th-thank you¡ªthank you!" The rescued man panted, still trembling. "Dear God, he was a monster! Are you¡­ are you the same as him?"


    "That depends on how you see it," Harry replied with a gentle smile.


    "I think you must be a good man, sir." The man''s eyes welled with tears. "My name is John¡ªJohn Strauss."


    He quickly continued, "That¡ªthat evil wizard kidnapped so many of us¡ªpeople like me who can''t use magic. Many of them are already dead. Thank you, great sir, you saved me just before he could torture me... There are still two people alive in the basement. Please, you must¡ª"


    "Go bring them up," Harry instructed, raising his wand toward the doorway. "Reparo!"


    Under John¡¯s awestruck gaze, the shattered bricks flew back into place as if pulled by invisible threads. Within moments, the house was fully restored.


    Harry gave him a nod.


    John rushed downstairs, and soon returned with a man and a woman, both trembling.


    "Thank you, wizard sir," the two sobbed. "We thought we were going to die here¡­"


    "At least you''re alive, aren¡¯t you?" Harry replied. "Were all of you Muggles? Oh, I mean, were all of his victims non-magical?"


    "Two of them knew magic," the woman said, pointing to one of the floating heads in the jars.


    As soon as she finished, her face went pale, and she promptly threw up on the floor.


    "What was he doing to you?" Harry asked.


    "We don¡¯t know," the three answered honestly.


    Then John suddenly added, "Wait¡ªlast night, I think I saw someone in the basement. He had black hair¡­ but I might have been seeing things. His body seemed transparent¡­"


    "Transparent?" Harry frowned. "Like a ghost? What did he look like?"


    "Very handsome. Kind of like a young Byrne Anderson¡ªbut even more beautiful," John said.


    Harry noted down this detail and continued asking, "Anything else?¡ªI mean, any distinguishing physical features of this person?"


    "I don¡¯t remember, just these things," John replied.


    "What about you two?" Harry turned to the remaining two people.


    Both shook their heads, indicating they didn¡¯t know.


    Harry nodded and said, "Alright¡ªthat''s all I wanted to ask. In a moment, I''ll escort you out of Knockturn Alley¡ªthis place is a gathering spot for Dark Wizards. For people like you who can¡¯t use magic... it¡¯s a bit dangerous."


    "Understood, thank you," the three of them nodded rapidly in unison.


    They had already experienced enough in the past few days to know Harry wasn¡¯t lying.


    "Then... Mr. Wizard," the woman asked, "are you... the police of the wizarding world?"


    "No, I¡¯m not an Auror," Harry said with a smile. "I¡¯m just an ordinary student who longs for a normal life."


    Hearing this, the three looked at him with newfound respect.


    No way, with such strength... he¡¯s still a student?


    Could it be that all students in the wizarding world are this powerful?


    Harry knew what they were thinking. He shrugged and curled his lips slightly. "Alright, maybe I¡¯m a little special."


    When he escorted them out of Knockturn Alley, Harry reluctantly accompanied them to the bank to accept his "reward."


    It wasn¡¯t much money, and judging by their background, they seemed well-off. In any case¡­ Harry gained a sum of British pounds, which he deposited into his personal account.


    Given their gratitude, Harry didn¡¯t cast Obliviate on them.


    After all, he was just an ordinary Hogwarts student¡ªerasing Muggle memories wasn¡¯t his responsibility.


    However, he thoughtfully used a spell to blur parts of their memories that they shouldn¡¯t have seen, such as the severed head in the jar and the various internal organs.


    "Goodbye, Wizard schoolmate."


    The three waved to Harry in gratitude.


    Harry waved back in farewell.


    He didn¡¯t forget to pull out an Aging Potion from his pocket and take a sip to extend its effect.


    Standing at the bank¡¯s entrance, Harry was still pondering what John had mentioned.


    That young man¡¯s soul¡­ just who was he? What connection did he have with that Dark Wizard?


    Thinking about it, Harry suddenly felt a bit regretful.


    Damn, I killed him too quickly!


    He had been too focused on eliminating a threat for the greater good.


    Sometimes, being too decisive in killing didn¡¯t seem like a great thing.


    But since it was done, Harry decided not to dwell on it.


    He had come to a Muggle bank, but he had yet to visit the wizarding bank¡ªthere were still important materials waiting for him in Veratia¡¯s personal vault.


    As for that small fortune, Harry had no intention of using it. When Veratia returned, she might need the money¡ªfor something like purchasing property, perhaps.


    With that thought, Harry made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.


    Old Tom didn¡¯t recognize him. Seeing him head straight for the brick wall after entering the pub, he said nothing and simply continued mixing drinks at the bar.


    Passing through the brick wall, Harry arrived at Gringotts once again.


    The bank remained unchanged since his last visit. Goblins scurried about, while some wizards sat at the counters handling transactions, or followed goblins deep underground to access their vaults.


    Harry glanced around and spotted a familiar face¡ªthe goblin who had assisted him last time, named Ragnok.


    Believing that familiar faces made business easier, Harry plopped himself down in front of the counter.


    "Name," Ragnok said without looking up.


    "Harry Potter," Harry replied, making no effort to conceal his real name.


    Ragnok let out a grunt.


    "Oh, Harry Potter. Didn¡¯t you withdraw money last year?"


    As he said this, something felt off.


    He looked up at Harry, a bit hesitant.


    "I recall... last year, you were just a first-year student, weren¡¯t you?"


    Ragnok¡¯s small eyes scanned Harry up and down, internally wondering¡ªdo human children grow this fast? Disappear for a short while, and suddenly they¡¯re unrecognizable?


    What the hell were you eating at Hogwarts? Magical plant fertilizer?


    However, he didn¡¯t dwell on it and simply resumed sorting his documents. He said casually, "Alright, the Potter family vault, right? Even though it¡¯s you personally, you still need to present the vault key¡ªthat¡¯s the rule of Gringotts, you understand, don¡¯t you, Mr. Potter?"


    "No, I¡¯m not here for the Potter family vault. I need access to a different one," Harry said.


    "A different one?" Ragnok looked up.


    "Yes, another one," Harry replied, pulling out the vault number Veratia had dictated to him. "Vault 313."


    "Vault 313, hold on a moment, Mr. Potter." Ragnok crouched down and retrieved a thick stack of documents from beneath the counter. "Apologies, but I don¡¯t have much impression of this vault¡ªit seems no one has accessed it for many years. Please wait while I check."


    "Alright," Harry said understandingly.


    After a short while, Ragnok hesitated and looked up.


    "Vault 313? The one managed by Miss Veratia Elizabeth Amalie Grindelwald from the Austro-Hungarian Empire a century ago?"


    "Yes," Harry nodded.


    "According to this, the proof of ownership seems to be a wand," Ragnok said, still unaware of the gravity of the situation. "Holly, phoenix feather core, eleven inches, embedded with a ruby, featuring red veins¡ªand the bottom of the wand is engraved with the name ''Veratia.''"


    "Oh." Harry hadn¡¯t noticed the ''Veratia'' engraving before. He took out the wand and examined the bottom. Sure enough, it was exactly as Ragnok described.


    He raised his head, intending to show the wand to Ragnok, but then noticed the goblin¡¯s face was contorted in sheer terror as he stared at the wand in Harry¡¯s hand.


    Hmm?


    Oh, Harry suddenly remembered. This wand¡­


    He had used it to kill some goblins before.


    Perhaps, for goblins, this thing was a terrifying symbol?


    With that thought, Harry glanced at the wand again, only to realize it was now glowing with an eerie red light.


    Crap, he thought. I should¡¯ve put it away.


    But it was too late¡ª


    A surge of powerful magical energy erupted from the tip of the wand, spreading across the entire Gringotts hall!


    The wizards in the bank, who had been withdrawing money or handling transactions, suddenly noticed that the goblins before them had expressions of utter terror.


    Not just the goblins behind the counters¡ªeven the security guards at the entrance were trembling as they dropped to their knees, clutching their heads, and letting out terrified screams.


    "Wh-what is this?!"


    "My ancestors are screaming!"


    "I can smell my kin¡¯s blood!"


    The wand in Harry¡¯s hand seemed to tremble with excitement, its red veins pulsating with a ghostly light, vibrating intensely, as if it were craving battle.


    At this moment, Harry finally realized what had just happened¡ª


    The wand had sensed its prey and was now unleashing an aura of pure fear!


    ----


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 Chapter 105: Harry: I Need an Explanation!

    Harry thought for a moment before deciding to tuck the wand back into his robes. After all, he was still counting on the goblin to take him to the vault.


    He truly hadn¡¯t expected this¡ªafter not seeing this wand for so long, had this old companion developed new abilities?


    Perhaps it had absorbed Ranrok¡¯s energy?


    Then again, it wasn¡¯t surprising¡ªcountless goblins had perished under this wand.


    Harry had once been kind-hearted to the point of worrying about harming ants while sweeping the floor, but after witnessing the goblins slaughter entire villages, he had abandoned such misplaced compassion.


    Despite Gringotts¡¯ repeated claims that Ranrok¡¯s actions had nothing to do with them, Harry still didn¡¯t believe that the goblins of Gringotts were completely innocent.


    As Harry stowed his wand away, the goblins finally emerged from their terrified stupor.


    "Good heavens, what on earth is¡­?" Griphook swallowed hard.


    "Don¡¯t ask questions you shouldn¡¯t be asking." Harry¡¯s voice was calm. "Now that I¡¯ve shown you my token, you should take me to the vault, right?"


    "Of course, Mr. Potter. This way, please." Griphook said respectfully.


    As he led Harry through Gringotts, he discreetly gestured to the other goblins behind him.


    Harry noticed the subtle movements but didn¡¯t particularly care.


    Before coming to Gringotts, he had already prepared a Portkey in his bag. If activated, it would quickly transport him outside the Leaky Cauldron.


    Following Griphook, Harry arrived at a narrow stone corridor illuminated by the flickering glow of torches.


    The corridor sloped steeply downward, with a winding railway running along the ground.


    Griphook whistled sharply, and before long, a cart came speeding toward them along the tracks.


    "Get in, Mr. Potter." Griphook said, climbing in first.


    Harry stepped into the cart and casually conjured a small protective shield¡ªjust enough to block the wind from his face while conveniently leaving Griphook exposed.


    As they traveled, they passed an underground lake adorned with massive stalactites and stalagmites, some reaching all the way to the ground.


    Finally, the cart came to a halt before a small door. It seemed to be enchanted, always stopping precisely at the intended vault.


    "We¡¯ve arrived, Mr. Potter." Griphook announced, jumping out of the cart with a respectful nod.


    Harry stepped down and looked up at Vault 313.


    To be fair, just from the appearance of the door, it was far more impressive than the entrance to the Potter family¡¯s vault.


    "A total of 2,763,215 Galleons," Griphook read from a parchment, his expression neutral. "Additionally, there are some antique treasures¡ªheirlooms from the Austro-Hungarian imperial family a century ago. Let me see¡­ Ah, and there are also rare alchemical materials, including even angel feathers. Truly, I wonder who the vault¡¯s mistress is."


    Mistress?


    Harry thought for a moment. He vaguely recalled that Veratia had an aunt nicknamed "Sissi," who had married someone named Joseph. Apparently, he had some influence in the Austro-Hungarian Empire.


    But¡­ over two million Galleons?!


    Was this the "small sum" Veratia had mentioned?


    Harry was still processing the sheer amount in his mind, though his expression remained unchanged. He simply said to Griphook, "Open the door."


    Griphook nodded, stepped forward, and performed a series of intricate motions on the vault door. Soon, the lock clicked open, releasing a thick green mist from within.


    Once the smoke had cleared, Harry took a step forward and¡ª


    Silence.


    Harry stared blankly at the completely empty vault.


    Wait¡­ something¡¯s not right.


    Where¡¯s the money?


    He searched every corner of the vault, only to find a single, pitiful bronze Knut lying in a corner.


    And at the very back of the vault, a silver-white princess tiara hung on the wall.


    "This is what you call over two million Galleons?!" Harry pointed at the empty vault, his blood pressure skyrocketing.


    Are you bloody kidding me?


    The Galleons were one thing¡ªmoney came and went.


    The antique treasures? Whatever, Harry didn¡¯t care for them.


    But where the hell were the angel feathers?!


    Veratia had stored a whole heap of them here!


    Harry refused to believe Veratia would deceive him, especially when the inventory list had clearly detailed everything inside.


    Hearing Harry¡¯s words, Griphook finally turned around.


    He took a sharp breath, his face filled with terror.


    "M-Mr. Potter, this is a major incident. I must¡­ I must notify the senior management of Gringotts¡­"


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Harry said nothing, simply watching him coldly as he pulled out a vial of Aging Potion and drank it.


    "For now, please return with me. I believe¡­" Griphook swallowed nervously, "I believe the senior management of Gringotts will provide you with a reasonable explanation."


    "You¡¯d better." Harry snapped before stepping back into the cart.


    Retracing their path, Harry soon found himself back in the grand hall of Gringotts.


    The moment he stepped inside, two goblins in tailored suits blocked his path.


    "Mr. Potter, the Director requests your presence." They said respectfully.


    Harry lowered his gaze, glanced at them, and then pointed at the ground beneath his feet.


    "Tell him to come here."


    "This¡­" The two goblins exchanged uneasy glances.


    "My vault was robbed. Everything inside has disappeared!" Harry¡¯s voice turned icy. "I demand an explanation from Gringotts! Was this due to negligence, or was it outright theft?!"


    At Harry¡¯s words, the once-quiet hall of Gringotts erupted like a boiling cauldron.


    Everyone knew that Gringotts prided itself on its unparalleled security.


    In fact, that was the very foundation of its standing in the wizarding world.


    Yet now, someone was openly declaring¡ªright in the bank¡¯s main hall¡ªthat their vault had been emptied.


    Even worse, the goblin who had accompanied him to retrieve the contents was standing there with his head lowered in silent admission¡­


    The implications for Gringotts¡¯ staff and its clients were immense.


    The goblins whispered among themselves, their sharp eyes darting toward Harry.


    The witches and wizards in the hall looked equally unsettled, glancing between Harry and Griphook in growing curiosity and concern.


    They were desperate to know what was going on.


    The two suited goblins sighed, then turned and left the hall.


    "Mr. Griphook," Harry said, his voice calm, "I believe I need a reasonable explanation."


    His tone darkened. "Or, if you fail to provide one that satisfies me, I¡¯ll have to let an old friend of mine handle this discussion instead."


    "No, no, Mr. Potter." Griphook forced an awkward smile. "Please, come with me to the VIP lounge. We promise¡ªregarding Vault 313¡ªwe will give you a satisfactory explanation."


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Harry snorted and followed Griphook into the VIP lounge.


    Before long, two goblin attendants entered, trembling as they carried a tray of red tea and pastries.


    They diligently served Harry, but their expressions were unnervingly solemn. If one looked closely, there was even a trace of fear in their eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s with those faces?¡± Harry glanced at the two goblins. ¡°I recall that the standard for the service industry is to smile. Why aren¡¯t you smiling? Do you just not like to smile?¡±


    The two goblin attendants muttered inwardly¡ªGringotts had no such rule¡­


    But faced with the man holding a wand stained with the blood of countless goblins, they quickly chose to comply, forcing out stiff, reluctant smiles.


    Before long, there was a knock on the door. With Harry¡¯s permission, the two sharply dressed goblins from earlier entered, one after the other.


    Right behind them, a Boss-Eyed goblin walked into the room.


    ¡°Mr. Potter.¡± The Boss-Eyed goblin bowed respectfully to Harry. ¡°We finally meet.¡±


    Harry gave him a polite nod and asked, ¡°Do I know you?¡±


    ¡°Apologies, Mr. Potter. We have never met, but I grew up hearing your name.¡±


    Bodrig shivered slightly as he spoke.


    ¡°Allow me to introduce myself. I am ¡®Boss-Eyed¡¯ Bodrig, leader of the Goblin Brotherhood.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not from Gringotts?¡± Harry¡¯s expression darkened.


    He had assumed that the one coming to see him was a Gringotts goblin, which was why he had agreed to this meeting without question.


    But right now, he was in the middle of a dispute with Gringotts¡ªwhat business did this goblin have here?!


    Seeing the displeasure on Harry¡¯s face, Bodrig¡¯s heart tensed.


    He quickly put on an apologetic smile. ¡°Forgive me, Mr. Potter. I know you have pressing matters to attend to, but I still wanted to trouble you for a moment¡­¡±


    After all, one does not strike a smiling face. If Bodrig had come in with arrogance, Harry would have already drawn his wand.


    But Harry had always been someone who responded better to softness than to force. With Bodrig lowering himself like this, it wouldn¡¯t be appropriate for Harry to respond with hexes over such a minor disturbance.


    ¡°My time is limited. Say what you need to say.¡± Harry tapped his fingers against the table.


    ¡°Well, Mr. Potter¡­¡± Bodrig carefully chose his words. ¡°I¡­ hmm, we have all heard of your illustrious reputation from back then. Now that you¡¯ve returned to the magical world you were so loyal to, we goblins wish to¡­ clarify some misunderstandings.¡±


    ¡°There certainly are misunderstandings to be cleared up,¡± Harry said casually, wiping his nails. ¡°Back then, there were some¡­ minor disagreements between us and the goblins, and we engaged in a full and frank exchange of opinions. But that was never my intention in the first place. However, if certain goblins once again attempt to covet ancient magic and slaughter the innocent¡­¡±


    Here, Harry¡¯s tone grew pointed. ¡°I¡¯ll be watching you.¡±


    Hearing Harry¡¯s words, Bodrig felt as if a deafening explosion had gone off in his mind.


    Minor disagreements?


    A full and frank exchange of opinions?!


    That¡¯s what you call minor disagreements?!


    Merlin¡¯s beard! The thousands of goblins who had followed Ranrok back then had been completely wiped out!


    Bodrig still remembered how the elders had described it¡ªthose students hurled green spells the moment they saw their targets, and there was even a pair of young wizards who wielded ancient magic¡­


    The number of goblins who had perished under this man¡¯s wand alone was beyond counting¡ªotherwise, why would that wand exude such a terrifying aura of menace toward goblins?!


    However¡­


    Hearing Mr. Potter¡¯s response, Bodrig was actually quite satisfied.


    As long as he wasn¡¯t planning to escalate the issue to involve all goblins, that was already a relief.


    ¡°Thank you for your magnanimity, Mr. Potter.¡± Bodrig quickly placed a hand over his chest in salute. ¡°Your kindness is a beacon to the entire wizarding world.¡±


    ¡°This matter aside for now, I actually have more pressing business to discuss with you goblins.¡±


    Harry¡¯s voice was soft, yet in the ears of the goblins present, it was as heavy as a mountain.


    More pressing business?!


    If suppressing a goblin rebellion was just a minor disagreement, Bodrig didn¡¯t even dare to imagine how severe this ¡®more pressing business¡¯ might be.


    ¡°Please, speak freely, Mr. Potter.¡± Bodrig said respectfully. ¡°Our Goblin Brotherhood still holds some influence within Gringotts, and we will ensure you receive a satisfactory answer.¡±


    Harry nodded, then gestured for Griphook to come forward.


    ¡°A century ago, a friend of mine deposited a fortune in Gringotts. But when I went to retrieve it today, it had vanished.¡±


    Harry shot Griphook a look, and the goblin stepped forward, presenting a document to Bodrig.


    ¡°I need an explanation. Where has my treasure gone?¡±


    Bodrig took the document, and as he read it, his face twisted into an expression of utter despair.


    This¡­ could this even be called just a fortune?!


    Even for Gringotts, two million Galleons was a staggering sum¡ªnot to mention the precious alchemical materials and rare antique artifacts¡­


    He didn¡¯t even want to think about what would happen if Gringotts failed to provide an acceptable answer.


    ¡°Rest assured, Mr. Potter!¡± Bodrig immediately declared. ¡°I will personally urge Gringotts to give you a satisfactory answer!¡±


    Harry nodded, clearly pleased with Bodrig¡¯s attitude.


    Just then, the Gringotts manager came running into the room, coming to a sudden, jerky halt right in front of Harry.


    ¡°Mr. Potter, Mr. Bodrig,¡± he blinked his beady eyes, ¡°I have already received a report on your issue, Mr. Potter. I am now instructing our clerks to conduct a thorough investigation. We will ensure you receive a satisfactory answer!¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be waiting,¡± Harry said, nodding in a remarkably reasonable manner.


    Seeing that Harry had not caused an outright commotion in Gringotts, the manager let out a quiet sigh of relief.


    If Harry had known what these goblins were thinking, he would have sneered.


    After all, he had lived under Headmaster Black¡¯s tutelage for over five years¡ªeven a stone would have absorbed some of that influence.


    This was a society governed by the rule of law. No matter what, Harry would maintain his dignity.


    Before long, a group of Gringotts clerks filed in, holding thick stacks of documents.


    They took seats not far from Harry and began meticulously going through the records.


    Harry didn¡¯t rush them. He simply sipped his tea leisurely, waiting for the final results to emerge.


    And sure enough, he didn¡¯t have to wait long.


    Half an hour later, one of the goblins suddenly stood up, waving a bundle of papers.


    ¡°Here! I¡¯ve found it!¡±


    ---


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 Chapter 106: Veratia - The Hunt Begins!

    "You found it?"


    Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at the goblin waving a sheet of paper.


    He didn¡¯t rush to stand up but instead gave the opportunity to Bodrig.


    Sure enough, upon hearing the news, the most anxious person wasn¡¯t anyone else¡ªit was Bodrig.


    Bodrig dashed forward, grabbed the paper, and carefully held it with both hands before presenting it to Harry.


    Harry was quite pleased with the way the Brotherhood of Goblins'' leader was behaving.


    He took the paper and examined it closely. His face darkened instantly.


    The contents roughly stated that in August of 1899, Gellert Grindelwald had come to Gringotts in Britain, using a token belonging to Velatia Grindelwald, and emptied the vault. This included all the Galleons, various antique treasures, and even all the alchemy materials¡ªeverything was taken.


    Wait a minute, Gellert, are you a Niffler?


    Harry¡¯s eyebrows twitched. He genuinely wanted to know what Veratia¡¯s reaction would be when she found out about this.


    "If I remember correctly, wasn''t the token supposed to be this wand?"


    As he spoke, Harry reached into his robe to take out the wand.


    "No!"


    All the goblins present shouted in unison, "Mr. Potter, no! Do not take out that wand!"


    Harry paused and held back.


    "The records indicate that Miss Grindelwald set up two tokens for the vault," the Gringotts official read from a document bearing Veratia¡¯s magical signature. "One was permanent¡ªthe wand currently in Mr. Potter''s possession. The other was a one-time use token¡ªthe Grindelwald family crest. However, Miss Grindelwald had set a withdrawal limit of one hundred thousand Galleons. Due to the passage of time, we do not know why he was ultimately allowed to empty the vault entirely."


    With that, the official handed the document to Harry.


    "Mr. Potter, please verify whether the magical signature belongs to Miss Velatia Grindelwald."


    Harry gently touched the signature and found that it was indeed left by Veratia herself.


    Well, that explained everything.


    Ha!


    So, after all this time, it was you, this little Niffler, who took everything your sister left behind!


    Harry figured he really needed to have a conversation with Veratia about this matter.


    And when he saw Gellert next, he was definitely going to grab him by the leg and shake him until every last Galleon spilled from his pockets!


    "Understood." Harry handed the document back to the Gringotts official and added, "Make me a copy of this withdrawal record."


    Hearing Harry¡¯s words, the goblins collectively exhaled in relief.


    "Of course, esteemed Mr. Potter."


    Some of the younger goblins couldn¡¯t help but reconsider the stories they had heard about him. Goblin oral tradition had long painted Potter as a fearsome figure, but wasn¡¯t he rather amiable? He certainly wasn¡¯t the menace they had imagined!


    The goblins worked efficiently, and before long, Harry had a duplicate of the withdrawal record.


    Satisfied, he tucked it away securely, intending to show it to Veratia once he returned to the Map Chamber so she could see exactly what her dear little brother had done.


    "However," Harry continued, "this also represents a failure on your part. I believe Gringotts should compensate both me and my Veratia for this oversight."


    "That is our responsibility, Mr. Potter!" the Gringotts official declared, patting his chest.


    "I hope your compensation is satisfactory. You have one night to draft a proposal." Harry rose to his feet. "It¡¯s getting late. I¡¯ll be taking my leave now."


    "Safe travels, Mr. Potter." The Gringotts official bowed slightly.


    After leaving Gringotts, Harry activated the Portkey and reappeared at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.


    At the same time, the effects of the Aging Potion wore off completely. With a snap of his fingers, his clothes automatically adjusted to fit his proper size.


    Back at the Leaky Cauldron, old Tom was still curious. He scratched his head in confusion, unsure when Harry Potter had even left the establishment.


    Not dwelling on it, he greeted Harry before returning to polishing his glasses.


    ---


    Harry was having a fine day, but Draco Malfoy was not.


    At Malfoy Manor, Draco remained visibly troubled.


    "Draco?" His mother, Narcissa, asked gently, "What¡¯s wrong? If something is bothering you, you must tell your father and me."


    "I, uh¡­"


    Draco opened his mouth, wanting to spill everything at once.


    But as soon as the words reached his lips, he hesitated.


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    After all, he had taken a dark artifact from home¡ªone his father had strictly forbidden him from touching¡ªbrought it to school, and caused a massive uproar...


    Not to mention, there was now a clearly cursed mark on his arm...


    And the dreadful design of the mark made it impossible not to associate it with a curse.


    Thinking of all this, Draco hesitated again.


    If he confessed, he¡¯d be met with his father¡¯s particular brand of "affectionate discipline." That would be the end of him.


    "Speak, Draco." Lucius sat in his chair, leisurely sipping his tea.


    "It¡¯s nothing, really." Draco swallowed his words. "We just lost the House Cup, so I¡¯m feeling a little down."


    The House Cup?


    Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance and simultaneously let out a breath of relief.


    "It¡¯s just the House Cup, Draco." Lucius looked up. "Don¡¯t act like a child who didn¡¯t get a new broomstick."


    Narcissa reached out and ruffled her son¡¯s hair, though she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Draco was hiding something.


    But she didn¡¯t want to force him. If she pushed too hard, it would only hurt him in the end.


    She decided to wait until Draco was ready to talk.


    ---


    After dinner, Draco, still preoccupied, headed to the bathroom.


    He instructed the house-elf to prepare his bath and, upon testing the water, grumbled, "Lali! The water is too hot!"


    "I¡¯m sorry, young master."


    A soft, timid voice responded as a small figure appeared, adjusting the water temperature.


    "That¡¯s better. Now get out! You¡¯re such a nuisance." Draco waved his hand impatiently.


    "Bad Lali! Bad Lali!" The elf whimpered and began banging her head against the tub in punishment.


    House-elves were always like this¡ªseverely punishing themselves over the smallest mistakes.


    "Enough, Lali." Draco sighed, grabbing her by the arm to stop her. "You¡¯re used to serving Mother, so you don¡¯t know my preferences. It¡¯s fine. Now leave me alone."


    "Young master¡­" Lali whimpered. "Young master is so kind¡­"


    Draco waved her away impatiently and sank into the bath.


    Lali, eyes brimming with tears, glanced at Draco¡¯s left arm¡ªand suddenly, her eyes widened in horror.


    She let out a sharp, piercing scream.


    "Tch." Draco groaned in annoyance. He had no patience for this¡ªhis mind was consumed by the cursed mark on his arm.


    Then, realization struck him.


    Was Lali screaming because of his arm?


    He hurriedly turned to Lali and said urgently, ¡°Lali! I order you! You are absolutely forbidden to speak a word about what you saw on my arm! Do you hear me?¡±


    Lali let out a whimper and disappeared into the bathroom.


    Draco let out a breath of relief. He knew the loyalty of house-elves¡ªLali would never betray her master.


    But there was one problem he had overlooked¡­


    Lali was brought over from the Black family by his mother. Her true master was Narcissa¡­


    Sure enough, as soon as Lali left Draco¡¯s bathroom, she went straight to the living room.


    Narcissa and Lucius were having tea and discussing why Draco was once again in an emo mood today.


    Seeing Lali suddenly appear, Lucius frowned.


    But considering that Lali belonged to Narcissa, he refrained from saying anything¡ªafter all, one must give his wife due respect, or else¡­ hmm¡­ well¡­


    ¡°Lali?¡± Narcissa¡¯s expression darkened slightly, knowing full well that her husband disliked interruptions during tea. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Bad Lali! Bad Lali!¡± Lali picked up a book from the table and started banging it against her own head. ¡°Lali¡¯s eyes should not exist! Lali saw Young Master¡¯s secret! Bad Lali! Bad Lali!¡±


    Young Master¡¯s secret?


    Lucius, who had been mildly annoyed, immediately raised his voice by eight decibels.


    ¡°You mean Draco? What happened to him?¡±


    The Malfoys had only one heir. Though Lucius always presented himself as a strict father, Draco was still his only son¡ªthe one he cherished above all else.


    One could say he was afraid Draco might melt in his mouth or slip through his fingers.


    Now Draco had a ¡°secret,¡± and not only that, it was something shameful enough to be discovered by others? How could Lucius not take this seriously?


    ¡°Bad Lali! Bad Lali!¡± Lali continued to pound her own head.


    ¡°Lali!¡± Narcissa said sternly, ¡°I order you to stop hurting yourself!¡±


    Lali¡¯s movements halted immediately, her large, tearful eyes looking up at Narcissa with a pitiful expression.


    ¡°Madam cares for Lali¡­ Madam won¡¯t allow Lali to punish herself¡­ But Lali knows she is bad! She should not have seen Young Master¡¯s secret!¡±


    ¡°What happened to Draco? Speak now,¡± Narcissa urged, unable to remain calm when it came to her son.


    ¡°Young Master forbade Lali from speaking! If Lali tells, Young Master will punish Lali!¡± Lali whimpered.


    Narcissa let out a cold humph. ¡°Lali! In the Malfoy family, you have only one master¡ªme! I order you to tell me Draco¡¯s secret now!¡±


    Lali sobbed, raising her head hesitantly before quickly lowering it again.


    She could not disobey her master¡¯s orders, even though she adored Draco and played with him often.


    ¡°Lali¡­ Lali was assisting Young Master in his bath, preparing the water,¡± Lali began hesitantly. ¡°But Lali made the water too hot. Young Master scolded Lali and told Lali to fetch new water¡ªLali wanted to punish herself, but kind Young Master stopped Lali and sent Lali out.¡±


    ¡°But Lali saw a mark on Young Master¡¯s left arm¡­ A very, very evil mark¡­¡± At this, Lali began to hit her head again.


    ¡°What kind of mark?¡± Narcissa grabbed her small arm. ¡°Lali! I order you to stop punishing yourself!¡±


    Lali pitifully lowered her hands and began describing, ¡°It was a black skull¡­ with a large serpent slithering out of its mouth like a tongue. It scared Lali so much¡­ Lali thinks she has seen it somewhere before¡­¡±


    The moment Lali described it, both Narcissa and Lucius felt their world spinning. Narcissa¡¯s legs went weak, and she collapsed onto the sofa.


    ¡°The Dark Mark?!¡± Lucius gasped in shock.


    If anyone knew what that mark meant, it was Lucius.


    It was the very symbol the Dark Lord bestowed upon his Death Eaters¡­


    Through this mark, Voldemort could summon, control, and even torture his followers.


    Most crucially, its very existence was undeniable proof of one¡¯s identity as a Death Eater. And now that Voldemort had fallen from power, who in their right mind would still bear the Dark Mark?


    As the saying goes, ¡°In times of glory, the false believers gather; in times of ruin, the true followers remain.¡± With Voldemort¡¯s downfall, even many of the once-devoted pure-blood families refused to acknowledge their past as Death Eaters.


    Only a handful remained loyal¡ªsuch as Narcissa¡¯s sister, Bellatrix.


    ¡°Lucius¡­¡± Narcissa gripped her leg, trying to stop herself from shaking. ¡°Tell me¡­ where did Draco get the Dark Mark?!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t panic, dear.¡± Lucius forced himself to remain calm, suppressing the sharp tremor in his voice. ¡°We haven¡¯t seen it with our own eyes yet¡­ We must confirm it first.¡±


    ¡°Alright!¡± Narcissa nodded firmly.


    The two of them ascended the staircase and arrived at the bathroom door.


    ¡°Draco?¡± Narcissa knocked. ¡°Are you still in the bath?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still bathing, Mother!¡± Draco¡¯s voice came from inside.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Come out for a moment. I have something to discuss with you,¡± Narcissa said. ¡°It¡¯s about the Greengrass child¡ª¡±


    Inside the bathroom, Draco had been worried he¡¯d been found out. But when he heard his mother mention the Greengrass family, he immediately shot up from the bathtub.


    ¡°Alright, Mother! I¡¯ll be right out.¡±


    He hastily dressed himself, flung open the door¡ª


    And immediately met his father¡¯s piercing, stern gaze.


    ¡°Draco,¡± Lucius said impassively. ¡°Come with us.¡±


    Draco¡¯s heart dropped.


    He instantly knew what had happened.


    Lali had betrayed him!


    Gritting his teeth, Draco seethed with resentment.


    Traitor! Your two-faced nature doesn¡¯t surprise me in the least!


    Left with no choice, he followed his parents downstairs, his heart pounding with unease.


    Finally, they arrived at his bedroom.


    ¡°Show me your arm,¡± Lucius ordered.


    Draco hesitated. He didn¡¯t want to expose the Dark Mark on his arm.


    ¡°Show me your arm!¡± Lucius¡¯s voice turned stern.


    Seeing his father¡¯s hardened expression, Draco swallowed nervously.


    There was no escaping this. He dared not openly defy his father¡ªotherwise, the consequences would be dire.


    So, he slowly stretched out his arm and rolled up his sleeve.


    As the fabric slid upward, the grotesque skull and serpent were gradually revealed to the Malfoys.


    Upon seeing the all-too-familiar Dark Mark, Lucius¡¯s pupils contracted violently!


    ---


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 Chapter 107: The Explosive Lucius

    It wasn¡¯t just Lucius¡ªNarcissa also sat up unsteadily on the bed.


    She never could have imagined that one day, the Dark Mark would be branded onto her son¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Lucius Malfoy!¡±


    Narcissa gritted her teeth and lifted her head to glare at Lucius.


    Hearing his wife call his full name so formally, Lucius felt his heart skip a beat.


    Damn it¡­


    Everyone knows that when you get called by your full name, it¡¯s never a good sign...


    Quickly, he diverted the topic, shifting the pressure onto Draco.


    ¡°Draco, tell us in detail¡ªhow did you end up with the Dark Mark on your arm?¡±


    Draco, already stunned by his parents¡¯ reaction, felt his throat tighten before bursting into tears.


    ¡°Lucius!¡± Narcissa growled. ¡°You¡¯ve scared our little dragon!¡±


    For a fleeting moment, Lucius wore a mask of pure agony. Seriously? At a time like this, Cissy, you¡¯re still shielding him?!


    But there was no helping it. Lucius could only soften his tone slightly.


    ¡°Speak, Draco. Tell us how that¡ªDark Mark¡ªcame to be.¡±


    Draco sniffled and hesitantly asked, ¡°Dark Mark?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s called the Dark Mark, little dragon,¡± Narcissa said gently, her voice soft and soothing. ¡°You need to be honest with us so we can help you.¡±


    Lucius remained expressionless as he stared at his son. Only when his wife tugged at his sleeve twice did he let out a reluctant grunt of acknowledgment.


    His gaze at Draco, however, carried a hint of disdain.


    Draco hiccuped before slowly recounting what had happened.


    ¡°I¡­ Over Christmas, I found an old notebook at home. The name written inside was C.C. Malfoy. I thought it belonged to our ancestor, Cassandra Malfoy, so I started examining it closely. Then I discovered that the diary could¡­ respond to me. Whenever I wrote in it, it would answer back, as if it had a mind of its own.¡±


    ¡°It told me that it was actually Cassandra Malfoy, but to avoid suspicion, it had adopted a pseudonym¡ªMerope¡­¡±


    ¡°After that, I kept communicating with her. Then one day, she appeared before me¡ªas a transparent spectral figure. She was stunning, with black hair and red eyes¡­¡±


    ¡°And you just believed her?!¡± Lucius slammed his hand against the bed, producing a heavy thud.


    ¡°She¡­ she said it was because of dark magic¡ªthat¡¯s why her hair had turned black¡­¡± Draco muttered guiltily.


    ¡°She said it, so you believed her?!¡± Lucius felt there was no saving his foolish son.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Draco stammered, unable to justify himself.


    ¡°Keep going,¡± Narcissa instructed firmly.


    Draco nodded and continued narrating the so-called ¡°Merope¡¯s¡± grand exploits.


    ¡°She kept using me to get close to Slytherin students, absorbing their life force to sustain herself. She even shared some of that energy with me, which drastically improved my spellcasting ability¡­ I heard from Potter that this kind of magic actually drains one¡¯s lifespan¡­¡±


    ¡°This is dark magic¡ªpure evil!¡± Narcissa gasped. ¡°That means I can be sure¡­ It has to be him¡­ It has to be him¡­¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Draco swallowed hard.


    Lucius raised his head, fell silent for a moment, and then spoke with difficulty: ¡°The Dark Lord.¡±


    Truthfully, he didn¡¯t want to believe it himself. The master he had sworn loyalty to¡­ had resorted to such desperate measures¡­


    To cling to life, he had resorted to deceiving children¡­


    And not just deceiving children¡ªthe most unacceptable part was that the Dark Lord¡­ had dressed as a woman!


    This was beyond shameless!


    Lucius began to question himself¡ªwhat in Merlin¡¯s name had he been following all these years?!


    ¡°The Dark¡­¡±


    Draco¡¯s teacup slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.


    ¡°The Dark Lord?!¡± he asked in disbelief.


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    ¡°Yes. No one else would use such sinister magic, and no one else could have branded the Dark Mark onto your arm¡­¡± Lucius sighed deeply.


    That sigh was not just for his son¡¯s misfortune, but also for his own past blindness¡­


    ¡°Then¡­ could it have been Potter?¡± Draco asked doubtfully.


    ¡°Potter?¡± Lucius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Which Potter?¡±


    ¡°Harry Potter,¡± Draco clarified before elaborating. ¡°I thought this power was formidable, so I challenged him to a duel to regain my dignity. But¡­ I lost to him again. That¡¯s when he told me to roll up my sleeve¡ªhe was the one who pointed out the Dark Mark to me¡­ Could it be that he¡¯s the one who put it there?¡±


    Lucius looked at his son with a mixture of disgust and disappointment before shaking his head. ¡°Impossible. The Dark Mark is an exclusive enchantment of the Dark Lord himself. No one else can brand it onto another.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Draco murmured, realization dawning on him.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Lucius scoffed, ¡°Potter is the so-called ¡®Savior of the Wizarding World.¡¯ The idea that he would¡­ No, absolutely not.¡±


    Lucius would sooner believe that the British would stop eating fish and chips for ten years than believe that Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter could ever be working together.


    "But, Potter?" Narcissa lifted her head. "Since it was this Mr. Potter who pointed out the Dark Mark on your arm, why don''t you invite him to the manor as a guest? Have you forgotten your manners, Draco?"


    "He¡ªhe''s absolutely unbearable!" Draco hesitated, then decided to tell his mother the full story of his encounters with Potter at school.


    He detailed everything, leaving nothing out¡ªincluding how Potter bullied his classmates and insulted Hermione.


    "Mr. Potter was right¡ªyou do need to be properly disciplined!"


    Lucius spoke coldly, "No matter what, we must not lose our dignity. And you¡­ you have utterly disgraced us!"


    Draco opened his mouth, but he had to admit that his father was right.


    "But¡­ a first-year student is already this powerful?" Narcissa, however, was more concerned about Harry¡¯s magical abilities. "Even the Dark Lord, in his first year, did not have such strength¡­"


    "He is the Boy Who Lived, after all," Lucius replied. "It¡¯s only natural that he would be a bit stronger than others."


    Draco thought about it. If "a bit" meant spanning the distance between Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts, then sure, that was reasonable.


    "But, Father¡­" Draco lowered his voice. "That Potter¡­ he told me that he is the Harry Potter from a hundred years ago. That¡¯s why he¡¯s so strong."


    Hearing Draco''s words, Narcissa and Lucius exchanged glances and both shook their heads.


    The way they looked at Draco was as if they were looking at a fool.


    "Silly Draco, how could that be possible?" Narcissa said gently. "Even the Dark Lord could not escape the grasp of time..."


    "But he¡­" Draco still wanted to believe that Harry was indeed the legendary wizard from a century ago.


    Because, frankly, losing to an ordinary first-year student three times was one thing¡ªbut losing to a legendary wizard three times? That was entirely different!


    Losing to the latter meant he could at least boast: I lost to the Harry Potter from a hundred years ago! Not embarrassing at all! If you don¡¯t believe it, go ahead and try!


    "That is not the point, Draco." Lucius snorted, tapping the serpent head of his cane against Draco¡¯s sleeve, pulling it back to reveal his wrist. "What matters is how to remove that Dark Mark from your arm!"


    Narcissa fell silent for a moment before speaking. "Lucius, I think we should ask Severus for help. After all, back in school, you did look after him quite a bit¡­"


    Lucius glanced at Narcissa.


    Hmm¡­


    That was¡­ not unreasonable.


    "Very well. I shall have Dobby fetch him immediately," Lucius said solemnly.


    He strode into the parlor, summoned Dobby, and had him bring parchment and quill. He then penned an eloquent letter¡ªone that masterfully wove together their shared history as Slytherins, the bonds between the Board of Governors and the faculty, and a genuine plea for assistance.


    After a final review, Lucius carefully sealed the letter in an envelope and handed it to Dobby, instructing the elf to deliver it via Apparition.


    Once Dobby had departed, Lucius sternly forbade Draco from mentioning anything about Harry being the Harry Potter from a century ago in Severus Snape¡¯s presence.


    As he issued the warning, Lucius couldn¡¯t help but sigh¡ªwhat a disgrace to the family¡­


    Getting tricked by the Dark Lord disguised as a woman was bad enough. But if word got out that his son had been completely hoodwinked by Potter, the Malfoy family¡¯s reputation would be in ruins!


    --


    In a small house on Spinner¡¯s End, Professor Snape, exhausted from a long day, was just about to retire for the night when he heard a knock at the door.


    He narrowed his eyes, walked to the entrance, and opened it.


    It was Dobby. Snape recognized him immediately as the Malfoys'' house-elf.


    "Professor Snape, Master has sent you this letter." Dobby held out the envelope with both hands.


    Snape let out a soft huff through his nose before tearing open the letter.


    As his eyes scanned the contents, his expression darkened.


    A Dark Mark¡­ appearing on a student in Slytherin?


    "Take me to Malfoy Manor!"


    Time was of the essence. Snape did not bother with Floo Powder but opted instead to have Dobby Apparate him directly.


    A fully grown house-elf possessed considerable magical power¡ªApparating with an adult wizard posed no challenge at all.


    In the blink of an eye, Snape arrived at Malfoy Manor.


    His black robes billowed as he walked, giving him the appearance of a looming bat.


    At the entrance, Lucius and Narcissa were already waiting as their esteemed guest arrived.


    Seeing Severus, Lucius stepped forward with a sincere smile.


    "Severus, it has been too long."


    There was an old saying: One does not strike a smiling face. And besides, Lucius had once been a senior whom Snape owed some gratitude. So, Snape returned a slight smile.


    "Good evening, Lucius. I have read the letter¡ªso you say a Dark Mark has appeared¡­ in Slytherin House?"


    For once, Snape did not drawl his words.


    This was, after all, a matter concerning his own House. He had no choice but to take it seriously.


    Even if most Slytherin students had the intelligence of trolls, that did not stop the old professor from feeling a sliver of concern for them.


    "It¡¯s a long story. Let¡¯s discuss it inside," Lucius said.


    Once inside, Lucius summoned Draco to the parlor, shooting him a warning look as he did.


    The meaning was clear: If you dare spout nonsense about Potter, be prepared for a slap from your father right here and now.


    Draco, being the self-preserving sort, immediately understood. Obediently, he approached Snape.


    "Roll up your sleeve," Lucius commanded.


    Draco complied, exposing the Dark Mark on his arm.


    Upon seeing the mark, Snape¡¯s eyes sharpened. He leaned in, scrutinizing it carefully before speaking in a slow, deliberate voice:


    "This is indeed the Dark Lord¡¯s mark¡­ Just what exactly happened?"


    Draco dared not lie. Carefully omitting Harry¡¯s involvement, he relayed the rest of the story to Snape in precise detail.


    After listening, Snape immediately understood why so many students in Slytherin had been experiencing extreme drowsiness, why so many seemed dazed, and¡ªmost concerning¡ªwhy their spellwork had suddenly improved at an alarming rate.


    ---


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 Chapter 108: The Fairies’ Compensation

    "I assume Mr. Malfoy has taught you this, Draco," Professor Snape said in his usual sinister tone. "When it comes to Dark artifacts¡ªespecially those with a mind of their own¡ªyou must stay far away."


    "What''s more, you''ve now caused quite a mess... I believe that anyone who has come into contact with that notebook has, to some extent, been marked with Dark Magic..."


    "No, Professor," Draco immediately denied. "I confirmed it after returning to the dormitory. Aside from me and Sleepy Joe from second year, no one else has been marked."


    "From the way you speak, one might think you consider being branded with a Dark Mark an honor," Snape said coldly. "The ignorance of the fearless... But then again, those who haven''t experienced it could hardly understand the terror of this mark."


    "Severus," Narcissa suddenly spoke. "Do you have any way to help Draco get rid of this mark?"


    Snape wrinkled his nose in distaste, raising his hand delicately as though he were handling something filthy. He took Draco¡¯s wrist between his fingers, inspecting it as if the boy hadn''t bathed in months.


    After a moment, he drawled lazily, "I don''t have any particularly good solutions. The best I can do is concoct some potions to temporarily suppress the mark and prevent it from forging a deeper connection with him."


    Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look and sighed in unison.


    After Snape left, Narcissa remained silent for a long time. Finally, she lifted her head and asked hesitantly, "Lucius... should we ask Headmaster Dumbledore to take a look?"


    "Dumbledore... Dumbledore..." Lucius murmured the name, then quickly shook his head. "No, absolutely not. If he finds out, even as a school governor, I may not be able to keep Draco in Hogwarts..."


    "Then who else should we turn to?"


    Narcissa gazed at Draco, her eyes filled with sorrow. Tears slipped from her lashes.


    "My poor little dragon..."


    After a long pause, she suddenly thought of someone.


    Someone Draco had just mentioned.


    "What if... we invite that Mr. Potter to the manor as a guest?"


    Inviting Harry Potter?


    Lucius was momentarily stunned. He glanced at his anxious wife, opened his mouth slightly, but said nothing.


    He desperately wanted to tell his wife that Draco was still young and naive¡ªhow could she believe what he said?!


    However, Lucius, still rational, wisely chose silence. After all, on the surface, he was the head of the household, but at times, he had to... well, respect Narcissa¡¯s decisions.


    Yet at this moment, Narcissa had no time to consider anything else. As a mother who deeply loved her son, how could she sit idly by while the Dark Mark tainted their child?


    Right now, she was grasping at straws, not bothering with logic¡ªher only thought was to get Harry Potter here first and worry about everything else later.


    After all, that Mr. Potter had been able to detect the Dark Mark on Draco¡¯s arm, which meant he might have a way to deal with it. In Narcissa¡¯s eyes, even if there was only a slight possibility, she wouldn¡¯t let it slip away.


    Draco¡¯s eyes brightened. It seemed that Mother truly loved him¡ªsee, she believed what he said!


    ¡°Cissy.¡± Lucius took a deep breath.


    He had wanted to dissuade his wife from this idea, but upon seeing the sorrow in her eyes, he swallowed his words.


    ¡°I will write an invitation letter immediately, personally!¡±


    The atmosphere in Malfoy Manor was heavy, and things weren¡¯t much better at Hogwarts.


    The moment Snape received the news, he went straight to Dumbledore.


    Now, he was sitting in the Headmaster¡¯s office.


    In truth, Lucius had confided in Snape without expecting him to inform Dumbledore¡ªeven though Snape was both the Head of Slytherin House and Hogwarts¡¯ Potions Master.


    The reason was simple: to all Death Eaters, Snape was a staunch supporter of the Dark Lord, utterly incapable of betrayal.


    Consequently, Lucius never imagined Snape would relay this information to Dumbledore.


    As for that Lily Potter? Ha... Lucius knew that Snape had once loved her to the point of madness, but he never believed that a mere woman could shake Snape¡¯s loyalty to the Dark Lord.


    That was why he had chosen to seek Snape¡¯s help without hesitation.


    ¡°Oh, Severus.¡± Dumbledore yawned, dressed in star-and-moon-embroidered pajamas, his matching magical nightcap still on his head. ¡°It¡¯s quite late. I imagine you must have something important to say; otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t disturb an old man¡¯s sleep.¡±


    In other words¡ªthis had better be worth it.


    ¡°The Dark Mark has appeared at Hogwarts. A student has had the mark branded onto their arm.¡± Snape¡¯s expression remained impassive as he spoke concisely.


    For a brief moment, Dumbledore looked visibly stunned.


    ¡°The Dark Mark?¡±


    He pondered for a moment before shaking his head. ¡°I don¡¯t recall Professor Quirrell ever giving a student detention in private. What exactly happened? And who are these students?¡±


    Snape¡¯s voice was calm: ¡°One is a second-year, Joseph Rourke. As for the other... the parents have requested confidentiality.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Severus.¡± Dumbledore caught the underlying meaning in Snape¡¯s words.


    Among all of Slytherin House, only one person could compel Snape to keep silent¡ªthe head of the Malfoy family, Lucius.


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    ¡°Can you tell me what happened?¡± Dumbledore seemed slightly relieved¡ªso long as it wasn¡¯t Harry, the problem was manageable.


    Besides, the Rourke and Malfoy families were Death Eaters; they probably wouldn¡¯t be overly concerned about this matter.


    As for incidents within Slytherin House, Dumbledore wasn¡¯t fully informed¡ªhe was not omniscient, nor was he as all-knowing as people imagined.


    Snape, uncharacteristically swift and to the point, recounted everything he had learned from Malfoy Manor.


    Dumbledore unhurriedly opened a drawer and took out a jar.


    The jar was filled with cockroaches, wriggling and crawling over each other.


    Snape¡¯s eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly upon seeing the jar.


    ¡°Would you like some cockroach clusters, Severus?¡± Dumbledore picked up a cockroach.


    The insect¡¯s long antennae twitched as its six legs flailed wildly, struggling to escape Dumbledore¡¯s fingers.


    Snape¡¯s expression was one of extreme distaste, as if Dumbledore were holding not a candy, but James Potter himself.


    ¡°If you ate less sugar, perhaps your overworked Potions Master wouldn¡¯t have to waste time brewing Tooth-Fortifying Elixirs¡ªyou already have enough dunderheads to deal with.¡±


    ¡°My apologies, Severus.¡±


    Dumbledore sighed regretfully at the rejection, then popped the cockroach into his mouth, chewing with evident satisfaction.


    ¡°Life is already too bitter; we need sweets to remind us of its fleeting joys.¡±


    ¡°Besides, the funds for Tooth-Fortifying Elixirs come from the Board of Governors, don¡¯t they?¡±


    Snape sneered. ¡°Perhaps we should focus on the notebook, Headmaster.¡±


    ¡°Oh, speaking of the notebook... I knew its original owner.¡± Dumbledore screwed the lid back onto the jar and placed it in the cabinet. ¡°Cassandra Malfoy, wasn¡¯t it? When I first entered Hogwarts, she would have been a seventh-year... though I heard she never finished her sixth year before running off to study Divination under Cassandra Trelawney¡ªyes, Sybill¡¯s great-grandmother. Later, for some unknown reason, the then-head of the Malfoy family, Septimus Malfoy, disowned her publicly. After that... there was no more news of her.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Snape sneered. ¡°The Malfoys certainly value family, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the important part, Severus.¡± Dumbledore¡¯s half-moon spectacles glinted in the moonlight. ¡°From what I know, this notebook is an extremely advanced Dark magic artifact. If I¡¯m not mistaken, the woman posing as ¡®Merope¡¯ should actually be a young Voldemort.¡±


    ¡°Although¡­¡± Dumbledore frowned slightly. ¡°Merope... that name sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?¡±


    Snape did not interrupt Dumbledore¡¯s contemplation; he simply sat quietly.


    After a long moment, Dumbledore still couldn¡¯t recall where he had heard the name ¡®Merope.¡¯ He set the thought aside and continued, ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, Voldemort likely used some sinister Dark magic to split his soul, placing a fragment into that notebook.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably not the most pressing issue, Headmaster.¡± Snape¡¯s signature sarcasm returned. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, we might soon have two Voldemorts¡ªtwo.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and one was already troublesome enough.¡± Dumbledore sighed. ¡°Once the term begins, I think you should thoroughly investigate Slytherin House to prevent further incidents.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Snape said, lifting his gaze. ¡°And I suggest, Headmaster, that you take your eyes off the honey jar before they glaze over from all the sugar.¡±


    After Snape left the office, Phineas Black¡¯s smug voice echoed from the portrait wall.


    ¡°If I were you, Albus, I wouldn¡¯t worry about this so-called Voldemort.¡±


    Dumbledore ignored him¡ªafter all, the Black family, with their ¡®Always Pure¡¯ motto, hardly had anything constructive to add.


    Phineas merely smirked and leaned back in his portrait, secretly looking forward to Harry Potter giving Voldemort a taste of some ancient magical shock.


    However, just a few steps away from the office, Snape turned back.


    ¡°Something else, Severus?¡± Dumbledore asked.


    ¡°I must remind you, Headmaster,¡± Snape drawled. ¡°That particular parent does not know I came to your office.¡±


    ¡°Rest assured, Severus.¡± Dumbledore smiled. ¡°After all, he is a Hogwarts Board member¡ªI am more than willing to grant him that courtesy.¡±


    --


    Early the next morning, Harry got out of bed.


    The habit of going to bed early and rising early was an essential discipline for young wizards, ensuring good health and abundant energy.


    Stretching lazily, Harry slipped on his shoes and got up to wash up.


    Then he went outside and bought a pile of food before returning to his room.


    Since there was still a Poppy in his trunk, Harry bought a little extra food. Tom, the innkeeper, was slightly concerned about whether it would go to waste¡ªbut Harry reassured him that his appetite had grown recently due to his growth spurt, and he could finish it all.


    "Time to eat, Poppy," he said, opening the trunk.


    "You seem like a smuggler of magical creatures," Poppy said mysteriously. "So, so¡ªdid anyone discover you smuggling a unicorn?"


    "No." Harry rolled his eyes. "I should remind you that I¡¯m still an underage wizard. I don''t have the ability to take down a unicorn on my own."


    "Eh? So what?" Poppy asked.


    "So, it was the evil unicorn that kidnapped a poor first-year student," Harry said, reversing the roles with a smirk. He took out a sandwich and stuffed it into Poppy¡¯s mouth just as she was about to speak again.


    "Eat your sandwich."


    Poppy, with her mouth full, could only swallow her words along with the food.


    "What are your plans for today?" she asked curiously after gulping down the bite.


    "I need to make a trip to Gringotts later, so you¡¯ll have to stay here a bit longer," Harry said. "Once I finish my business there, I can take you back to my uncle¡¯s house."


    "Yay!" Poppy cheered.


    She had heard that Harry¡¯s uncle¡¯s house had gardens and lawns in both the front and back¡ªshe hadn¡¯t eaten grass in ages, and it sounded like the perfect place for a good chew.


    After finishing breakfast, Harry had Poppy return to the trunk.


    He then drank another dose of the Ageing Potion, transforming back into his seventeen-year-old self.


    However, he didn¡¯t notice the slight gap that had been left open in the trunk.


    Only after he left the room did the lid of the trunk slowly close completely.


    ---


    At Gringotts, goblins were still bustling about, attending to their work.


    Yesterday¡¯s minor incident had not disrupted the bank¡¯s operations¡ªafter all, goblins were quite adept at handling crises.


    The moment Harry stepped into Gringotts, several goblins in formal suits hurried over to him.


    "Honorable Mr. Potter, this way, please."


    Harry nodded and followed them to the VIP lounge.


    Before long, both Bodrig and Gringotts¡¯ director, Skard, entered the room.


    "Good morning, Mr. Potter," the two greeted him with a bow.


    "Good morning," Harry returned the gesture with a slight nod.


    "Mr. Potter, here¡¯s the situation," Skard began, stepping forward. "May I take a seat?"


    "Of course," Harry nodded.


    Skard exhaled lightly in relief and placed a document before Harry.


    "After an emergency discussion by Gringotts'' board of directors yesterday, we have decided to offer you a generous compensation package to make amends for the losses suffered by both you and Miss Grindelwald, and to express our sincerest apologies."


    He paused, glancing at Harry¡¯s face for a reaction before continuing cautiously, "We must acknowledge that this loss was due to our inadequate security measures. Therefore, the board has decided to transfer a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors to you as compensation."


    Harry was slightly taken aback.


    A seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors?


    Funny enough, a hundred years ago, he had actually been quite envious of Cassandra¡ªher father had been on the Hogwarts board.


    However, he showed no outward reaction of satisfaction or displeasure. He simply sat there, composed, without expressing any opinion.


    Seeing his impassive demeanor, the goblins exchanged glances, feeling a little uneasy.


    Unable to discern whether Mr. Potter was satisfied or not, they promptly presented a second offer.


    "Additionally, the board is prepared to provide compensation in the form of alchemical materials, including some rare substances such as Ghostly Tears."


    Ghostly Tears?


    Harry wasn¡¯t sure what use that had. Right now, what he needed most were Angel Feathers and Basilisk Fangs.


    Originally, Veratia had stored some Angel Feathers in the vault, but Gellert had taken them when he withdrew alchemical materials¡ªthose feathers were crucial for saving Veratia.


    Frankly, Harry didn¡¯t care much about the monetary loss, the antiques, or even the other alchemical materials.


    But the Angel Feathers¡ªthose were absolutely essential.


    "Mr. Potter, does this proposal meet your expectations?" Bodrig asked tentatively.


    "Gringotts has a long history. I assume you also possess materials from basilisks, correct?" Harry asked casually.


    Skard let out a small breath of relief.


    "Indeed, we do. However, we currently only have some shed basilisk skins left. If you need¡ª"


    "I need basilisk fangs," Harry interjected. "And Angel Feathers."


    "My apologies, Mr. Potter," Skard said regretfully. "All basilisk fangs were sold off fifty years ago. As for Angel Feathers¡­ Gringotts does not have any in its collection."\


    ---


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 Chapter 109: Gringotts Sincerity

    No such treasure?


    Harry maintained his smile, but the amusement in his eyes faded.


    He was patient and tolerant¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean he could tolerate negligence from Gringotts.


    If it were merely a matter of a few Galleons, he might have let it slide. But due to their inaction, he and Veratia had lost an incalculable amount of alchemical materials¡ªmaterials that were crucial for Veratia to break through the constraints of time and fully manifest in the present.


    At least, after spending a year at Hogwarts, Harry was no longer as impulsive as when he had dealt with Ranrok¡ªwhere his first instinct upon seeing a goblin was to unleash an ancient spell.


    The goblins, of course, noticed the subtle shift in Harry¡¯s expression. Bodrig discreetly stepped on Skard¡¯s foot, preventing him from letting out a sharp yelp.


    "Mr. Potter, Gringotts will mobilize all its resources to help you find these two items!" Bodrig¡¯s voice was piercingly high-pitched. "Please believe in Gringotts, believe in our sincerity¡ªonce we locate these two items, Gringotts will cover the full cost of their purchase as compensation for your losses!"


    "Additionally, Gringotts still holds the Hogwarts Board of Governors seat that originally belonged to the Lestrange family, and we will transfer it to you for your discretion."


    Hearing this, Harry finally nodded in satisfaction.


    After all, if Gringotts truly didn¡¯t have Angel¡¯s Feather and Basilisk Fang, he couldn¡¯t very well force them to produce them out of thin air.


    Gringotts¡¯ influence spanned the globe, with branches in many countries. Having them search for these materials was far more efficient than him aimlessly scouring the world himself.


    "I think Gringotts has demonstrated sincerity," Harry said. "Even though your past mismanagement of the vaults was severe, your efforts to make amends are commendable."


    "Thank you, thank you for your praise," Skard quickly bowed, his heart finally settling back into place.


    By the Galleons above! For a moment there, he thought he was about to¡ª


    "As Mr. Potter just stated," Bodrig added, "Gringotts provides impeccable service to every wizard who entrusts their wealth to us because we are partners."


    Harry picked up the documents certifying his control over the Gringotts-endorsed and Lestrange-inherited Board of Governors seat, nodding in approval.


    "A true partnership."


    "So then, Mr. Potter..." Skard hesitated, then lightly tapped his lips. "No, I mean, Governor Potter..."


    Harry considered for a moment and decided it would be best to assign the title to someone else for the time being¡ªperhaps Poppy.


    Rather than serving as a governor himself, he was more interested in seeing how people would react to a unicorn holding the position.


    "My schedule is quite packed, so I¡¯ll be delegating the governorship to an old friend for now," Harry said, tucking away the documents. "I¡¯ll appoint them when the time comes."


    "Understood, Mr. Potter," Skard patted his chest. "Whoever you choose, Gringotts will fully support them!"


    "Good." Harry nodded.


    "Then... Mr. Potter," Skard asked cautiously, "if we receive any news about the Angel¡¯s Feather or Basilisk Fang, how should we contact you?"


    "Use a two-way mirror," Harry replied. "It¡¯s convenient and fast."


    Skard quickly nodded and instructed a nearby goblin.


    A short while later, the goblin returned with two two-way mirrors.


    "This is for you, Mr. Potter," Skard said, handing him one mirror while giving the other to Bodrig. "Bodrig will use this to contact you directly once we locate the materials."


    Then, Skard produced a small pouch.


    "This pouch has been enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm and can hold up to ten cubic meters," he explained, passing it to Harry. "Such items are now exceedingly rare, and this is a gift from Gringotts to honor a distinguished client like yourself."


    "Alright, thank you." Harry gave Bodrig an approving glance, then placed the mirror inside the pouch before tucking it into his inner pocket.


    Now that both sides had exchanged their terms candidly, Harry had no reason to linger.


    After leaving Gringotts, he wandered through the street for a bit, deciding to buy some treats to bring back for Poppy.


    Hmm... since Poppy was a Hufflepuff girl, she would probably enjoy something from Honeydukes?


    With that thought, Harry soon found himself spending over twenty Galleons.


    Oh well. Time to head back, he thought.


    Once again, he transformed back into his twelve-year-old appearance before entering the Leaky Cauldron.


    As he reached the second-floor landing, he noticed a house-elf standing by the door.


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    "Hello," Harry greeted with a nod.


    House-elves and goblins were entirely different creatures. The former were bound to a specific wizarding family, serving them with unwavering loyalty for life, while the latter were highly intelligent humanoids with long, dexterous fingers and toes, coexisting with wizards in the magical world.


    Goblins excelled in metalwork, particularly in crafting silverware and minting the magical currency. Their deep expertise in finance and banking allowed them to control a significant portion of the wizarding economy through Gringotts.


    Throughout magical history, goblin rebellions had erupted multiple times¡ªthe most recent one being the very uprising Harry had experienced firsthand.


    Needless to say, he had no fondness for goblins.


    But house-elves were different. When he first arrived at Hogwarts, Professor Weasley had arranged for a house-elf to assist him with daily needs during school terms and holidays.


    That elf¡¯s name was Deek¡ªgentle and kind-hearted. Because of Deek, Harry had developed a certain affection for house-elves.


    The house-elf standing at the door now widened his large, round eyes upon seeing Harry. His bat-like ears twitched twice, and he clasped his hands together.


    "Harry Potter! Are you the great Harry Potter?"


    "If you mean Harry Potter, then yes, that¡¯s me," Harry replied with a smile. "But if you mean ¡®great,¡¯ that¡¯s not me."


    "Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord and brought peace to the world! He deserves the title of ¡®great!¡¯" the elf declared.


    Harry thought of his mother.


    "No, actually, it was my mother who defeated the Dark Lord," he said with a sigh.


    "Harry Potter¡¯s mother was also a great witch! And a great mother!" the house-elf whispered, before suddenly beginning to bang his head against the wall. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Making Harry Potter think of sad things! Bad Dobby!"


    "Your name is Dobby?" Harry asked, grabbing the elf¡¯s thin and slightly grimy arm. "Stop punishing yourself. It¡¯s not your fault."


    His first impression of the elf was quite good¡ªafter all, he had called his mother great.


    A good elf, with good taste.


    Dobby paused his self-punishment and looked up at Harry.


    "So, what brings you here?"


    "Dobby has been entrusted by his master to deliver an invitation to Mr. Harry Potter," Dobby said, sniffing as he spoke. "But Dobby does not want Mr. Harry Potter to accept, because Master..."


    Before finishing his sentence, Dobby started banging his head against the wall again.


    Thud!


    "Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"


    Sigh.


    Harry grabbed Dobby and said, "Whatever it is, let''s talk inside."


    He didn¡¯t want to attract a crowd¡ªespecially since a few people were already eyeing them from the side.


    Once inside the room, Harry gestured for Dobby to sit down.


    "Alright, Dobby, tell me¡ªwho is your master?"


    "Dobby serves the Malfoy family," Dobby''s voice was barely above a whisper. "Dobby''s master is Lucius Malfoy, the current head of the Malfoy family."


    The head of the Malfoy family?


    Well, isn''t this convenient?


    Harry had originally planned to visit Malfoy Manor after leaving Gringotts. But now that Lucius had extended an invitation himself, that saved him the trouble of finding an excuse to visit.


    "Then why don¡¯t you want me to go?" Harry asked curiously.


    There was an old saying¡ªwhen someone offers a gift, they likely have a request in return. Harry didn¡¯t believe that a soon-to-be second-year student like himself warranted such formal treatment from Lucius Malfoy.


    Well... then again, perhaps he did. The Potter family had dwindled down to just him, and technically, that made him the head of House Potter.


    "Because¡­ because the Young Master has been found with the Dark Lord¡¯s Mark¡­" Dobby trembled in fear. "The Dark Lord... Mr. Potter and his mother went through so much to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... but now he has returned. Dobby fears that Master may mean you harm..."


    Harry acted swiftly, using a spell to freeze Dobby¡¯s arms and legs before he could start harming himself again.


    "There''s no need to punish yourself, Dobby. But let me ask you¡ª" Harry paused briefly before continuing, "Why do you hate the Dark Lord?"


    "Because that Dark One... treats us like vermin..." Dobby shuddered. "Those were truly dark times..."


    "But from what I¡¯ve heard, the Dark Lord returned just a few weeks ago, and yet Harry Potter foiled his plans and even defeated him face-to-face!" Dobby said with admiration, his large round eyes gleaming with awe.


    "That¡¯s right," Harry said with a grin. "But I have my own reasons for visiting Malfoy Manor. I need to ask Lucius Malfoy something important, and, Dobby, this concerns the life of a friend. I must go."


    "A friend?" Dobby murmured.


    "Yes, a very good friend," Harry said softly. "Dobby, as a Malfoy house-elf, have you ever heard of someone named Cassandra Malfoy?"


    "Oh..." Dobby hesitated. "You mean Miss Cassandra Malfoy? Dobby¡¯s mother once served her. But from what Dobby¡¯s mother said, she disappeared at a very young age. However¡ª"


    "However what?" Harry pressed.


    "However, Dobby doesn¡¯t know much more. But if Mr. Harry Potter wants to learn more, perhaps Cassandra Malfoy¡¯s father can tell you." Dobby said.


    "Cassandra¡¯s father?!" Harry¡¯s heart skipped a beat. "Wait a moment¡ªare you saying that Septimus Malfoy is still alive?!"


    "No, Dobby has only seen the old master¡¯s portrait in one of the rooms," Dobby explained. "But the old master was very refined¡ªhe never spoke harshly to us lowly house-elves."


    Harry caught the implication immediately¡ªso, in contrast, Lucius Malfoy was not refined and had quite the foul mouth, didn¡¯t he?


    "Since that¡¯s the case, I have even more reason to go." Harry told Dobby, "Go back and tell Lucius Malfoy¡ªI¡¯ll be there at exactly five o¡¯clock this afternoon."


    Dobby hesitated. Emotionally, he wanted to stop Harry from going; the Malfoys were staunch Death Eaters and could pose a great threat to the Boy Who Lived.


    But since it was his master''s order¡ªand more importantly, since Harry himself had agreed, with an important reason behind it¡ªhe had no grounds to stop him.


    "Dobby hopes Mr. Harry Potter stays safe," Dobby said before leaving the Leaky Cauldron.


    After Dobby left, a small head popped up from inside a trunk.


    "Harry, Harry, your guest is gone?"


    "Gone. I¡¯ll be visiting the Malfoy Manor tonight." Harry pulled out his wallet and retrieved some treats. "Here, I got these for you. You probably haven¡¯t had anything like this while living in the forest, have you?"


    "Wow!" The little creature, Poppy, cheered, her eyes curving into crescent moons.


    She nudged Harry with her head and precisely snatched a candy from his hand with her mouth.


    Watching Poppy rapidly devour over ten donuts, a serious thought suddenly struck Harry.


    "Poppy¡­" Harry twitched slightly. "I just realized¡ªyou¡¯ve been staying in that trunk for the past two days. How have you been¡­ you know¡­ going to the bathroom?"


    Regret. Utter and absolute regret.


    I should have installed a vanishing-charmed toilet inside the trunk!


    He didn¡¯t even want to imagine the state of the trunk¡¯s interior right now.


    "Oh, you mean that?" Poppy flicked her tail casually. "Unicorns have a special biological structure¡ªwe don¡¯t need to, um, relieve ourselves."


    "Really?" Harry asked skeptically.


    "Of course it¡¯s true," Poppy replied cheerfully. Then, narrowing her eyes at Harry, she suddenly said, "Wait a minute¡ªHarry, I feel like you were just thinking something very inappropriate!"


    "I wasn¡¯t," Harry denied immediately. "How could I possibly let my mind wander like that?"


    "Hmph." Poppy let out a small snort and continued munching on her bread. "Don¡¯t worry, your concerns are completely unfounded¡ªdoes that make you feel better now?"


    "Uh, actually, I also brought you some fruit." Harry quickly changed the subject and pulled out a handful of berries. "These are your favorite¡ªblueberries! Eat as many as you like!"


    "Yay!" Poppy cheered, immediately tossing Harry¡¯s previous "offense" out of her mind.


    Harry let out a silent sigh of relief. Thank Merlin she didn¡¯t press the issue any further...


    ---


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 Chapter 110: Malfoy Manor

    In the afternoon, Harry visited Madam Malkin¡¯s Robes for All Occasions again to purchase an outfit suitable for attending the evening banquet.


    Poppy had originally wanted to accompany him and help pick out clothes, but considering her current feline-like appearance, she decided against it.


    Around four o¡¯clock, Harry prepared to set off for Malfoy Manor.


    Just as he was about to leave, Poppy bit down on the hem of his robe with a soft whimper.


    ¡°You have to come back early.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Harry patted Poppy¡¯s head. ¡°Even though you¡¯re a unicorn and don¡¯t need to... hmm... still, try not to eat too much, just in case it¡¯s hard to digest.¡±


    ¡°Got it, Dad~¡± Poppy whined, shaking her head. ¡°You really are just like my father¡ªjust as annoying.¡±


    Harry shook his head with a helpless smile. Waving goodbye, he stepped out of the door and disappeared into thin air with a crack.


    The moment Harry left, Poppy¡¯s body suddenly flickered with a ghostly white light.


    In his place now stood the beautiful young girl wearing a Hufflepuff uniform once more.


    ¡°Idiot...¡± she murmured. ¡°How could a unicorn possibly...


    Yes, but I¡¯m a ghost...


    She gazed mournfully at the grand feast laid out before her, occupying an entire bed.


    Thank you, Harry...


    But I can¡¯t taste any of it...


    --


    By the time Dobby had returned to Malfoy Manor to report to Lucius, the latter had already ordered the entire estate¡¯s house-elves to begin preparations for the evening banquet.


    Even though Harry was just a first-year student, Lucius intended to treat the occasion with utmost seriousness.


    It had nothing to do with any personal favor¡ªit was simply because Harry had pointed out the Dark Mark on Draco¡¯s arm.


    As for Draco¡¯s words about ¡®the Harry Potter from a century ago,¡¯ Lucius didn¡¯t take them to heart.


    The Harry Potter from a hundred years ago?


    Lucius had no doubt that his foolish son had been tricked by someone.


    Still, etiquette had to be observed. At precisely 4:30, he stood with his wife, Narcissa, and their son, Draco, at the manor¡¯s grand entrance, awaiting Harry¡¯s arrival.


    ¡°Father, do you think Potter will take a while to get here...¡±


    Before Draco could finish speaking, a sharp cracking sound split the air.


    A few steps away, the air twisted and swirled, and the next moment, Harry appeared before them.


    Lucius¡¯ pupils contracted at the sight of Harry Apparating directly to Malfoy Manor¡¯s gates.


    Twelve years old, my ass.


    Everyone knew that Apparition was a spell requiring students to be at least seventeen years old and to undergo complex training before they could use it.


    Even among trained wizards, a significant portion struggled with Apparition, often running the risk of Splinching.


    And yet, here was Harry¡ª


    Not to mention, he had Apparated all the way from the Leaky Cauldron in London!


    Malfoy Manor was located in Wiltshire, over a hundred kilometers away from London!


    Long-distance Apparition required not only an exceptional level of skill but also an immense reserve of magical power.


    Of course, being the ever-pragmatic fence-sitter that he was, Lucius smoothly accepted the fact that Harry was a prodigy.


    It made sense, after all. The Boy Who Lived ought to have something extraordinary about him.


    ¡°You must be Mr. Harry Potter?¡± Lucius stepped forward and extended his hand. ¡°Lucius. Lucius Malfoy. It¡¯s an honor.¡±


    ¡°Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.¡± Harry shook his hand and then offered Narcissa a courteous bow. ¡°Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy.¡±


    ¡°Good evening, Mr. Potter.¡± Narcissa returned the gesture with equal grace.


    ¡°Draco, we meet again.¡± Harry turned to Draco with a smile.


    Draco looked visibly anxious¡ªhe was desperate for Harry to just confess everything already.


    ¡°Potter... I mean, Harry.¡± Draco, much like his father, smoothly adjusted his tone, shifting to a more familiar address.


    Before he could say more, he caught a sharp warning glance from his father and immediately shut his mouth.


    ¡°Please, come in, Mr. Potter.¡± Lucius gestured for Harry to enter.


    Harry lifted his gaze and took in the sight of Malfoy Manor.


    The estate was a stately lord¡¯s residence, surrounded by meticulously designed gardens. Several fountains dotted the landscape, and elegant white peacocks roamed freely across the grounds.


    It seemed the manor had not changed much over the past century. In fact, it had even gained a few decorative additions, maintaining the grandeur befitting the Malfoy name.


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    Stepping inside, Harry found himself in a residence far more opulent than it had been a hundred years ago. Lavish furnishings, marble fireplaces, gilded mirrors, and carpets covering every inch of the floor¡ªevery detail proclaimed the Malfoy family¡¯s wealth and prestige.


    Harry cast an approving glance at Lucius.


    This Malfoy gentleman... was no mere fool, after all.


    He seemed quite adept at managing his wealth.


    Lucius, catching Harry¡¯s gaze, was momentarily puzzled.


    Something felt odd¡ªHarry¡¯s expression wasn¡¯t one of disdain or contempt, as he had expected. Rather, it resembled approval.


    The kind of approval a senior might bestow upon a junior?


    Lucius shook his head, pushing away the strange feeling.


    For now, it was time to dine.


    The evening¡¯s meal was French cuisine¡ªa tradition upheld by the Malfoy family. When Harry had visited as a guest a century ago, Septimus Malfoy had also entertained him with a French dinner.


    Since this was a private gathering rather than a grand banquet, the Malfoys¡¯ long dining table had not been extended. Under the guidance of the house-elves, Harry took a seat to Lucius¡¯ right.


    This was in line with British dining etiquette. Typically, the primary guest of honor was seated to the right of the host, allowing for easy conversation. The guest¡¯s spouse, if present, would be seated to the right of the hostess.


    Of course, if the hostess was the one hosting the event, the guest of honor would sit beside her instead.


    Harry, however, had no female companion. Not that he could have brought one even if he wanted to.


    Firstly, Veratia was a portrait.


    Secondly, Poppy was a unicorn.


    Lastly... if he chose Cassandra, she would technically be the matriarch of this household¡ªthe true lady of the manor.


    Damn these generational ties...


    Lucius struck a perfect balance¡ªneither overly warm nor distant. His sense of social decorum was impeccable.


    Harry found himself appreciating it. To be honest, he wasn¡¯t fond of overly familiar behavior, and Lucius¡¯ measured approach was quite to his liking.


    Their conversation revolved around Hogwarts, Gryffindor affairs, and, subtly, the details of Harry¡¯s duel with Miss Farley.


    Harry¡¯s responses were impeccable, not a single detail out of place¡ªcertainly not the replies of an ordinary first-year student.


    His manners and conversational skills had been honed by Cassandra herself.


    During the summer holidays, when Harry had nowhere to go, Cassandra had frequently summoned him to Malfoy Manor under the pretense of being her ¡®assistant.¡¯


    And then, of course, Septimus Malfoy had taken him along to various high-society events...


    Even a fool would have learned something after watching for so long.


    As dessert was served after the meal, the conversation naturally shifted to the main topic.


    "Mr. Potter, I must once again express my gratitude for your help with Draco," Lucius said. "As a father, the last thing I want is to see my child led astray."


    "You¡¯re too kind, Mr. Malfoy," Harry nodded slightly. "It was nothing, really."


    Lucius was silent for a moment, about to speak when Narcissa could no longer hold back.


    "Mr. Potter, is there any way¡­ to save my child?" Narcissa asked urgently, her expression filled with worry. "He is my only son. I cannot bear to see him marked by¡­ a certain group..."


    "This is a very advanced Dark Magic curse, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry sighed.


    "I know, I know¡ª" Narcissa took a deep breath. "But my little dragon... Mr. Potter, if you can save him, the Malfoy family is willing to pay any price!"


    Before Harry could respond, Lucius let out a quiet sigh.


    "What Cissy said represents my stance as well," Lucius said.


    Although his wife''s sudden outburst had placed him in a passive position, he chose to stand with her.


    Not just for Draco, but because they were in this together as husband and wife.


    Harry was slightly moved. Narcissa''s love for Draco reminded him of his own mother.


    He could see it clearly¡ªthis Malfoy mother loved her child no less than his own had loved him.


    The rarest thing in this world was true empathy.


    Originally, he had considered using this as leverage to gain Lucius¡¯ support for his candidate on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.


    But looking at this mother before him, he found himself unwilling to take advantage of her like that.


    "I happened to come across a counter-curse for this in Hogwarts'' restricted section," Harry said. "Since the curse was placed not too long ago, I should still be able to remove it."


    At his words, Narcissa¡¯s face lit up with joy.


    "Thank you, thank you, Mr. Potter!" she said.


    "Draco, hold out your hand."


    Harry pulled out his wand¡ªnot the holly one.


    "Will¡­ will it work?" Draco swallowed nervously.


    He did trust Harry. After all, he had convinced himself that Harry was the reincarnation of that legendary wizard from a hundred years ago.


    But now, he couldn''t help but worry¡ªwhat if the mark truly couldn''t be removed? What then?


    "Relax," Harry smiled gently and pointed his wand at the Dark Mark.


    Suddenly, sharp pain shot through Draco''s arm.


    Not just Draco¡ªeven Lucius'' arm reacted as well.


    Lucius'' pupils contracted.


    If he had been 60% sure before, now he was absolutely certain¡ªthe Dark Mark had been placed by Voldemort himself.


    He clenched his teeth in frustration but kept his expression composed.


    "It¡­ it hurts," Draco gritted out.


    "Of course it does. Who told you to get this thing in the first place?" Harry rolled his eyes.


    He infused his wand tip with ancient magic and tapped the snake head on the mark.


    The snake suddenly opened its mouth and bit onto Harry¡¯s wand.


    Harry gave a sharp tug, and the entire serpent was pulled from Draco''s arm.


    Then, he repeated the process, tapping the skull next. Just like the snake, the skull was yanked off as well.


    Narcissa grabbed Draco''s arm and examined it closely¡ªhis skin was smooth once more, without the slightest trace of the Dark Mark.


    The mark, now exposed to open air, twisted and writhed as if trying to resist.


    But Harry flicked his wand, sending a streak of green light toward it, dispersing its shadow entirely.


    "Wha¡­ what was that?" Lucius swallowed hard.


    That¡­


    A green spell?!


    Silent casting, without even needing to gather emotions¡­


    Merlin¡¯s pants¡­


    "Oh, Mr. Malfoy, don¡¯t worry." Harry casually placed his wand in front of Lucius. "Why don¡¯t you try a Flashback Charm?"


    Lucius took a deep breath, pulled out his wand, and tapped it against Harry¡¯s wand tip.


    "Lu¡­ Lumos?" he said in astonishment.


    "That¡¯s right. The Dark Mark is, in essence, a shadow. Once removed from the arm, it can be dispersed with light," Harry said with a cheerful grin.


    He had done that on purpose¡ªjust to see Lucius'' reaction.


    Hmm¡­ not bad. He finally got to see another expression from him.


    As a former Death Eater, Lucius was, of course, familiar with the Killing Curse.


    But the issue here was¡ªHarry was just a first-year student!


    What kind of first-year could casually cast a silent Avada Kedavra?! That was what had shocked him the most.


    In truth, the Unforgivable Curses were not "unforgivable" simply because they could manipulate emotions.


    The real reason was that they required an overwhelming emotional intent.


    Much like how criminal law defines "premeditation"¡ªif you accidentally kill someone with an explosion spell, it could be argued as an accident.


    But if you cast an Avada Kedavra, let¡¯s see you try to argue your way out of that.


    Without the intent to kill, the Killing Curse simply wouldn¡¯t work.


    "Phew." Harry exhaled and said to Lucius, "Good thing we acted in time. If it had been two months later, even I wouldn''t have been able to do anything."


    At these words, Lucius couldn''t help but press a hand to his left arm.


    ¡­Sigh.


    Forget it.


    As long as Draco was freed from control, that was enough.


    He gave Harry a rare smile and said, "Thank you, Mr. Potter. You are a true benefactor of the Malfoy family!"


    "Indeed, Mr. Potter," Narcissa nodded in agreement. "If not for your help, Draco would have¡­"


    "It was nothing," Harry replied politely.


    Draco tapped the table and grinned slyly.


    "See, Father, Mother? I told you¡ªHarry is the legendary wizard from a hundred years ago! You didn¡¯t believe me! But think about it¡ªonly someone like that could remove the curse mark on my arm..."


    "Draco!" Lucius scolded, then turned to Harry. "Apologies, Mr. Potter. Draco¡­ he is still a child. His thoughts can be a bit¡­ unrestrained."


    Harry glanced at Draco.


    He honestly hadn''t expected the boy to believe his nonsense from before so wholeheartedly.


    But it didn¡¯t matter to him. After all, with the Philosopher''s Stone enhancing his magic, ordinary wizards were no threat to him.


    "However..." Lucius continued, "not even Dumbledore or the Dark Lord had such abilities at your age. Could it be, as Draco says, that you really are¡­ the wizard from a century ago?"


    ---


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 Chapter 111: Cassandras Tears

    A century ago?


    That legendary wizard... Harry Potter?


    Harry glanced at Draco and saw that he was staring back with an expression of extreme anticipation.


    It was as if he were silently urging, Come on, admit it, Potter! You¡¯re the wizard from a hundred years ago!


    See? My parents don¡¯t trust me¡ªgo ahead and shock them!


    Seeing him like this, a mischievous amusement suddenly rose in Harry¡¯s heart.


    ¡°How could that be?¡± Harry said with a cheerful smile. ¡°What I told Draco earlier¡ªI was just teasing him.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s how it is.¡± Lucius¡¯ expression turned to one of understanding. ¡°I thought so. Time travel might be conceivable, but turning from seventeen back to eleven¡ªthat¡¯s simply impossible!¡±


    It was understandable that Lucius found it hard to believe. The idea was far too outlandish.


    Draco looked utterly stunned before fixing Harry with a gaze full of grievance and accusation.


    Harry gave Draco a deliberately mischievous grin. To Lucius and Narcissa, this only reinforced the impression that Harry had just been playing around with their son.


    They didn¡¯t mind, though¡ªafter all, Harry had practically saved Draco¡¯s future.


    ¡°By the way, there¡¯s another private matter I came to discuss at Malfoy Manor,¡± Harry suddenly said.


    ¡°Please, go ahead,¡± Lucius responded, leaning forward slightly. ¡°As long as it is within the power of the Malfoy family, we will spare no effort.¡±


    Harry took out two documents from his wallet and handed them to Lucius.


    ¡°These are letters from Gringotts and the Lestrange family concerning the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Gringotts has transferred their seat to me,¡± Harry said in a relaxed tone.


    Lucius¡¯ heart jolted as he carefully examined the documents, confirming their authenticity.


    This...


    This young Potter¡ªhow has he managed to achieve so much at such a young age?


    Lucius re-evaluated Harry, taking a deeper measure of him.


    Not only was he powerful, but his connections were vast. On top of that, he was Dumbledore¡¯s Golden Boy...


    Lucius had to admit¡ªhe was wavering. Perhaps placing an early bet on Harry wouldn¡¯t be such a bad move.


    Maintaining the principle of not prying into matters that weren¡¯t his business, he said, ¡°So, Mr. Potter, you wish for my assistance in securing you a seat on the Hogwarts Board?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s for my friend,¡± Harry said breezily. ¡°I¡¯m just a student¡ªbeing on the Board doesn¡¯t mean much to me. It would be better for my friend to take the seat for now.¡±


    ¡°No problem.¡± Lucius nodded. ¡°As long as the documents are in order, with the Malfoy family¡¯s influence, we can certainly secure the seat for your friend.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that¡­¡± Harry changed his tone slightly. ¡°My friend¡¯s identity might be... a bit troublesome.¡±


    ¡°A bit troublesome?¡± Lucius chuckled inwardly. No matter how troublesome, could it be worse than being a Death Eater?


    ¡°Please, do not worry, Mr. Potter,¡± he said reassuringly. ¡°May I ask who your friend is?¡±


    ¡°A unicorn,¡± Harry stated, his words stunning everyone present. ¡°A unicorn from the Forbidden Forest.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡ªa unicorn?¡± Lucius asked again, unwilling to believe what he had just heard.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Harry nodded. ¡°Is that going to be difficult?¡±


    ¡°No, not difficult at all.¡± Lucius took a deep breath and forced a smile. ¡°If they are a friend of yours, Mr. Potter, then I am more than willing to support this unicorn.¡±


    ¡°Her name is Poppy, and she can talk,¡± Harry said with a grin. ¡°Rest assured, Mr. Malfoy, she won¡¯t put you in a difficult position.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± Lucius nodded.


    ¡°However¡­¡± Lucius hesitated before asking, ¡°Forgive my curiosity, Mr. Potter, but isn¡¯t it said that unicorns only approach the purest-hearted young maidens? Why would she befriend you?¡±


    Harry sighed. ¡°Because I was serving detention in the Forbidden Forest when I happened upon her being attacked by Voldemort. He was trying to drink her blood to sustain himself¡ªI drove him off and saved her. That¡¯s how we became friends.¡±


    The mere mention of Voldemort¡¯s name sent another wave of shock through the room.


    That name¡ª


    No one dared to say it.


    Some avoided it out of ignorance, while others avoided it out of fear.


    But the young man before them clearly fell into neither category.


    As a Hogwarts Board member, Lucius had his own sources of information. He was aware of the events that had taken place at the school.


    Considering how Harry had defeated Voldemort at the end of the school year, it wasn¡¯t mere bravado when he claimed to have driven him away in the Forbidden Forest¡ªit was entirely believable.


    ¡°No wonder,¡± Lucius sighed. He glanced at Draco, who was gazing at Harry with something close to admiration, and shook his head helplessly.


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    Forget it.


    With other children, if the gap wasn¡¯t too big, perhaps there was still a chance to push them harder.


    But this? This gap was already despair-inducing...


    Lucius was simply too exhausted to care anymore.


    --


    After the banquet, Lucius did not rush to send Harry away. Harry, too, was in no hurry to leave.


    Lucius had Draco take Harry on a stroll around the manor.


    Mr. Potter had never visited the manor before¡ªit was only proper to show him hospitality.


    Draco stood up and gestured for Harry to follow him outside.


    As they walked through the manor¡¯s grounds, Draco suddenly frowned.


    ¡°Harry, why didn¡¯t you tell my parents the truth?¡±


    ¡°What truth?¡± Harry grinned.


    Seeing that mischievous, almost childishly teasing expression, Draco felt a surge of frustration.


    ¡°That you¡¯re the Harry Potter from a hundred years ago!¡± Draco demanded.


    ¡°Take a guess.¡± Harry chuckled.


    Draco¡¯s eye twitched. He muttered under his breath, ¡°Saint Potter.¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± Harry suddenly said, ¡°you remind me a lot of your great-aunt.¡±


    Draco blinked in confusion.


    ¡°She used to call me that, too¡ªSaint Potter. Let me think¡­ I believe it was back in my second year.¡±


    ¡°Can you tell me about her?¡± Draco, still a child at heart, was easily drawn in.


    In truth, he was quite interested in the stories of legendary wizards¡ªespecially those connected to his own family.


    ¡°There¡¯s not much to say. I first met her on the train,¡± Harry said, his gaze growing nostalgic. ¡°Just like how you came to find me on the train back then. But to be honest, Cassandra had much better manners than you. She never judged people based on their character or family background. The worst she ever did was call me lazy and arrogant.¡±


    Draco opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.


    ¡°Do you know why I punched you back then?¡± Harry asked, a wicked smile playing on his lips.


    ¡°Why?¡± Draco asked warily.


    ¡°Because you reminded me of her,¡± Harry said. ¡°You had the same last name, the same hair¡ªbut you were truly insufferable. At that moment, I thought I¡¯d teach you a lesson on her behalf.¡±


    "Uh, then I really must apologize." Draco scratched his head.


    "Yeah, you should feel sorry." Harry snorted. "The so-called pride of pure-bloods you speak of is completely different from what it was a century ago¡ªdo you know? Your great-aunt¡¯s pure-blood pride wasn¡¯t just about blood status; it came with the responsibility of caring for Muggle-born wizards like me."


    "Aren''t you really powerful? Why would she still¡­" Draco asked curiously.


    "That was a long time ago." Harry sighed slightly. "Does your family still have anything related to her? To be honest, I kind of miss her¡­"


    "I don¡¯t know." Draco shook his head. "No wonder, after using Legilimency back then, you immediately realized that Merope wasn¡¯t Cassandra. Turns out, you two were that close."


    "Close?" Harry thought for a moment. "She actually always looked down on me."


    "I don¡¯t think so, Harry." Draco suddenly said. "I believe she must have really liked you. Otherwise¡­"


    "Otherwise what?" Harry asked.


    "I can''t say for sure, just a gut feeling." Draco shrugged.


    Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked at Draco seriously.


    "The reason I¡¯m telling you all this is that you are her descendant. I hope you can be proud yet principled, just like she was, rather than holding onto nothing but empty pride. I hope you¡¯re not beyond saving¡ªotherwise, I¡¯ve wasted all these words today."


    "I will, Harry." Draco said earnestly. "You¡¯re a legendary wizard¡ªI¡¯ll definitely listen to you."


    "Well then," Harry continued, "you should know about Cassandra¡¯s father, right? Mr. Septimus Malfoy?"


    "He was my great-great-grandfather," Draco replied. "You knew him too?"


    "This isn¡¯t my first time at Malfoy Manor. The last time I visited, the head of the Malfoy family was Septimus Malfoy," Harry said. "I¡¯ve heard that families like yours tend to keep portraits of their ancestors. Do you have a portrait of him? I¡¯d like to talk to him."


    Draco immediately perked up.


    Great! If he could see Great-Great-Grandfather, then that would prove Harry¡¯s identity beyond a doubt!


    See him!


    He had to bring Harry to see him!


    With that in mind, Draco quickly said, "I know where it is. He¡¯s in a room on the third floor. I¡¯ll take you to him."


    Without another word, Draco turned and strode off.


    Harry chuckled to himself. This impatient kid¡­


    He followed Draco up to a room on the third floor, where they pushed the door open.


    Harry drew his wand and lit the lamps in the room.


    "I should warn you¡ªsomeone is sleeping here."


    A familiar voice rang out, deep and gentle.


    "Mr. Malfoy," Harry greeted.


    The voice hesitated for a long moment after hearing Harry¡¯s words.


    "This voice¡­ sounds familiar?"


    Harry stepped forward, locking eyes with Septimus Malfoy, who was seated in a chair.


    Septimus was silent for a moment before his gaze sharpened instantly.


    "Potter!"


    Harry barely suppressed a snicker at the nasal emphasis on the "t."


    Alright, it really was the Malfoy family¡ªevery single one of them pronounced "Potter" exactly the same way¡­


    It wasn¡¯t surprising that Septimus hadn¡¯t recognized him immediately. After all, the last time Harry had visited Malfoy Manor was during the summer before his fourth year.


    But the moment Septimus saw him, he knew exactly who he was!


    "Potter! You dare show up at Malfoy Manor?!" Septimus was clearly suppressing his anger, his platinum blond hair practically floating from sheer fury.


    Draco lowered his head, watching the exchange with a fascinated "whoa" expression.


    "Apologies, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, a little surprised. "I didn¡¯t expect you to remember me, let alone recognize me at first glance."


    "Recognize you?" Septimus let out a laugh, but it was more pained than amused. "Potter, even if you were reduced to ashes, I would still recognize you, you insufferable brat! What in Merlin¡¯s name did you do to Cass? She was obsessed, utterly bewitched¡ªshe wanted to travel through time just to find you!"


    "I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Malfoy." For once, Harry didn¡¯t retort. He was indeed in the wrong this time.


    Because the man before him wasn¡¯t just any Malfoy¡ªhe was a father who had lost his daughter.


    "Sorry?!" Septimus laughed bitterly. "Do you think a simple apology can make up for it? I lost my daughter! My beloved daughter! And now she¡¯s probably dead, chasing after some unattainable dream!"


    Harry opened his mouth but had no words.


    He could only lower his head, allowing Septimus to vent his grief and anger.


    He deserved this.


    After a while, Septimus seemed to calm down a little.


    "At least I can find some comfort in the fact that you, a Muggle-born brat, haven¡¯t completely forgotten your debts¡ªyou still had the decency to come to Malfoy Manor to see me."


    Septimus snorted, his eyes full of the reluctant fury of a father who had lost his "precious cabbage to a wild boar."


    "Uh, Mr. Malfoy," Harry suddenly said, "I actually just found out¡ªI belong to the Potter family. I¡¯m not from the Muggle world."


    The moment Harry said this, he clearly saw Septimus¡¯s entire demeanor shift.


    "Ha, so you¡¯re saying you¡¯re a Potter?" Septimus stood up excitedly, pacing back and forth, murmuring to himself.


    It wasn¡¯t that he was pleased that Harry was a Potter¡ªit was simply the fact that Harry wasn¡¯t a Muggle-born but a pure-blood wizard that brought him some solace.


    A small, bitter consolation.


    "Well, at least that¡¯s a silver lining, Potter." Septimus huffed. "But that doesn¡¯t absolve you of your irresponsibility. After you perished along with Ranrok, Cass went mad. She begged me to introduce her to the Seer Cassandra Trelawney so she could learn prophecy¡ªshe thought she could use it to find your whereabouts¡­


    "Oh, right." Septimus gestured toward the back. "Behind that picture frame, there¡¯s a letter Cass received. Back then, she¡­ well, never mind. Read it yourself. If you still have a shred of decency left, I trust you¡¯ll try to find Cass."


    Harry froze for a second, then immediately conjured a stool, stepping up to reach behind the frame.


    Sure enough, he felt an envelope.


    He pulled it out, opened it, and sat down, unfolding a crumpled letter inside.


    The ink was smudged, as if it had been wet, but the words were still legible:


    Miss Malfoy,


    I regret to inform you that you are no longer my apprentice.


    I apologize¡ªI misjudged your divination potential. I hope you understand that even the most gifted Seers make mistakes.


    At least now, you no longer need to concern yourself with your incompetence. You may pursue a more suitable path¡ªperhaps carpet weaving.


    Unfortunately, I don¡¯t know any carpet weavers, nor do I have the time to write you a recommendation.


    Please return to Wiltshire at your earliest convenience upon reading this letter.


    Cassandra Trelawney


    ---


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 Chapter 112: The Childhood Friend Loses to the Fated Encounter

    Harry stared blankly at the envelope in his hands, unable to utter a single word for a long time.


    His throat tightened, and a bitter sensation welled up in his chest.


    If this were a letter from Cassandra filled with insults and accusations, he might not have felt this awful.


    But¡­


    In his memory, Cassandra had always been a proud girl.


    A noble young lady, protected by her father and elder brother, always carrying herself with an air of dignity.


    He had never seen Cassandra sad, let alone crying. She was always dazzling, like the sun¡ªso bright that one dared not look directly at her.


    Yet now¡­


    Harry remained silent for a long time, walking to the window with the envelope in hand.


    The night breeze ruffled his messy black hair, and the moonlight poured down as softly as water. Harry lifted his head, as if hoping to catch Cassandra¡¯s reflection in the moon¡¯s glow.


    Through that pale moon, he seemed to see a girl, stripped of all her pride, curling up in helplessness, clutching that letter and reading it over and over again until her tears soaked the entire page.


    Why¡­


    A sharp, twisting pain clutched at Harry¡¯s heart, a pain so deep it was almost unbearable.


    Draco and Septimus¡¯ portrait watched his back but said nothing to disturb him.


    Draco had no idea what had happened, but Septimus knew everything.


    Harry stood there before the window, lost in thought, gazing up at the moon.


    His mind drifted back to his time at school with Cassandra, to every little moment they had shared. No matter how hard he tried, he could not picture that proud and confident young lady sobbing alone in her room.


    Suddenly, an overwhelming sadness washed over him.


    If he had been more cautious back then, if he hadn¡¯t been struck by Ranrok¡¯s spell, he wouldn¡¯t have been sent back to 1991.


    If that hadn¡¯t happened, would Cassandra still be that proud girl, cherished by her family?


    Would Veratia have remained unbound by time, watching her younger brother grow in Nurmengard?


    Perhaps¡­ perhaps he could have even prevented Poppy from turning into a unicorn.


    ¡°Potter.¡±


    Septimus spoke.


    Harry snapped back to reality and turned to look at the portrait.


    ¡°I remember, besides Cass, you befriended another girl at school, didn¡¯t you?¡± Septimus said. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, she was from the Austro-Hungarian Empire¡­ A certain Miss Grindelwald?¡±


    At those words, Draco let out another exaggerated "Whoa!"¡ªhis signature reaction to gossip.


    Draco was more than familiar with the significance of the surname Grindelwald.


    To him, Gellert Grindelwald, though branded as a Dark Wizard, was far more formidable than the so-called Dark Lord. Not necessarily in terms of personal power, but in sheer influence and charisma.


    Voldemort ruled through fear and intimidation, binding his followers with terror.


    But Grindelwald? He had wielded the vision of ¡°The Greater Good.¡±


    And now¡­ Harry actually knew Grindelwald¡¯s sister? Or was it his niece?


    Draco felt like a spectator in the greatest drama of all time, caught in a whirlwind of shocking revelations.


    ¡°Her name is Velatia Grindelwald, Gellert¡¯s sister,¡± Harry confirmed. ¡°You¡¯ve heard of her?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the name. Cass mentioned her before.¡± Septimus snorted.


    His lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end, he remained silent.


    Every Christmas, Cassandra had always claimed that her father and brother were too busy, leaving her with no choice but to stay at school¡ªand forcing her little tagalong, Harry, to spend the holiday with her.


    Especially during the summer of their fifth year, Septimus had expected his daughter to act as usual, dragging that Muggle-born brat along.


    But she came home instead.


    Her brother, Ignatius, had pried the truth from her: The boy she had doted on for five years had been stolen away by a girl he had only just met.


    When Septimus heard this news, he had uncharacteristically held his tongue. Instead, he drowned himself in beer, saying nothing at all.


    ¡°I heard from Cass that after you disappeared, that Miss Grindelwald locked herself away in your so-called ¡®beloved little cottage,¡¯ obsessing over time magic. After that, I never heard of her again¡­¡±


    ¡°I suspect that foolish girl, like Cass, tried to traverse time¡­¡±


    He fell silent for a moment before speaking again. ¡°If you find her, perhaps Cass will be with her. If you do see her¡­ bring her back. Even if it¡¯s only her belongings, let me see them.¡±


    Harry opened his mouth but hesitated. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to tell Septimus that Cassandra wasn¡¯t in the Map Chamber or Slytherin¡¯s study.


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    ¡°Cassandra will be fine,¡± Harry assured, though even he didn¡¯t believe his own words. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mr. Malfoy.¡±


    Septimus let out a sharp laugh.


    ¡°Do you have anything else to say? If not, then get out,¡± he said curtly.


    That was his way of showing restraint¡ªhe had managed not to lash out at Harry in rage.


    He was reminded of that summer in their third year¡­


    The scrawny, messy-haired boy had landed his broomstick right in Malfoy Manor¡¯s courtyard and had the audacity to ask him if his broom was safe there.


    Even as a portrait, Septimus could still feel the exasperation clogging his chest.


    Someone get me a calming potion!


    Harry carefully folded the letter, cast a protective charm over it, and tucked it behind the picture frame.


    As he reached the door, he suddenly turned back.


    ¡°Oh, right, Mr. Malfoy.¡±


    ¡°Speak.¡± Septimus was as concise as ever.


    Harry patted Draco¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You go on ahead.¡±


    ¡°Got it, Harry,¡± Draco agreed instantly, slipping out without hesitation.


    Once Draco was gone, Harry lowered his voice and said to the portrait, ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if you could keep a secret for me¡­¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Septimus narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°You know how it is¡ªwhen people discover your true identity, it¡¯s always a hassle. Instead of being poked and prodded like an experiment, I¡¯d rather spend my time searching for your daughter.¡± Harry shrugged.


    Septimus studied him for a moment before giving a slow nod.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll keep your secret¡­ at least for now. Not even my own descendants will hear it from me.¡±


    Harry smiled in satisfaction¡ªthis was just one of his little amusements.


    In truth, he didn¡¯t mind if his secret got out. He just enjoyed tormenting Draco.


    As he stepped outside, Harry¡¯s mind returned to Cassandra¡¯s letter.


    Wiltshire¡­ Malfoy Manor was in Wiltshire.


    It seemed that before Trelawney expelled her, Cassandra had returned home one last time.


    And then¡­ she had stolen a family heirloom from the vault.


    However, judging by Mr. Malfoy''s demeanor, he didn¡¯t seem to harbor any resentment toward his daughter for stealing the secret treasure. On the contrary, he still loved her as deeply as ever.


    Harry had no intention of prying further¡ªafter all, this was a family matter. It was better to wait until Cassandra returned and let the father and daughter handle it themselves.


    Sigh...


    Cassandra.


    Where was she now?


    Harry felt utterly clueless. Other than knowing she had briefly returned to Malfoy Manor once, there had been no news of her since.


    He should really start gathering information from multiple sources.


    With that thought in mind, he stepped out the door.


    "Harry, what did you and my great-grandfather talk about?" Draco asked curiously.


    "That''s a conversation between elders¡ªyou''d best not meddle," Harry replied.


    "Elders?" Draco repeated, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation.


    Even though they were classmates at Hogwarts, the fact remained that Harry had been a student alongside Draco¡¯s great-great-aunt over a century ago¡ªand they had been quite close.


    "Yeah," Harry glanced at Draco and flashed a mischievous grin. "You know, if you hadn¡¯t reminded me, I almost forgot¡ªwhen we''re out in public, you calling me Harry is fine, but when it¡¯s just the two of us, don¡¯t you think you should address me differently?"


    Draco''s brain kicked into overdrive as he carefully traced their familial ties.


    Hmm¡­ Cassandra was Grandfather¡¯s aunt, Father¡¯s great-aunt, which made her my great-great-aunt¡­


    And she was so close to Harry¡ªshe even seemed to like him.


    Judging by the way Harry spoke about her, he seemed to have deep feelings for her too¡­


    With a sudden flash of insight, Draco decided to curry favor with Harry.


    "Great-great-uncle?" he tentatively ventured.


    Harry ruffled his blond hair and chuckled. "If she hears you calling me that, you¡¯re done for."


    "Why?" Draco asked, puzzled.


    "We''re just friends. Good friends," Harry sighed.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how to define his relationship with Cassandra. If he went purely by instinct, she had always seemed rather dismissive of him. Harry had long convinced himself that they were simply friends¡ªsomewhere between good friends and just friends.


    But now, Cassandra had chosen to cross time itself for him. Did that mean¡­ she really saw him as a close friend?


    He refused to entertain the notion that she might actually like him, even denying it outright¡ªhe couldn''t imagine someone as proud as Cassandra having romantic feelings for him.


    On the other hand, the mere thought of it made him feel guilty toward Veratia¡ªeven though Veratia wasn¡¯t his girlfriend.


    Even before he traveled through time, Harry had just been a seventeen-year-old boy¡ªstill a high school student in the Muggle world.


    ¡­Forget it. The most important thing now was to save them.


    He didn¡¯t want to let down Veratia, and even more so, he didn¡¯t want to let down Cassandra.


    Draco, meanwhile, discreetly pulled a face of disdain.


    A legendary wizard? This guy?


    Excelling in spellwork yet completely clueless when it came to emotions? Tsk.


    Still, Draco wisely kept his thoughts to himself.


    Some things were best left unsaid¡ªhaving someone read your mind with Legilimency was not a pleasant experience. It made his head feel like it was about to explode.


    After leaving Septimus¡¯s room, Draco took Harry on another brief tour around the manor.


    Despite his aristocratic upbringing, Draco still had the playful energy of a young boy¡ªhe even chased after the estate¡¯s white peacocks for fun.


    "This was my first broomstick," Draco pointed at a small training broom. "Next year, I¡¯m planning to join the Quidditch team, though I doubt I¡¯ll ever be as good as you. You were incredible¡ªwait, were you a Quidditch star a hundred years ago too?"


    "No," Harry replied, his expression turning indescribable at the mere mention of Phineas Nigellus Black. "Back then, the headmaster was Phineas Black, and he didn¡¯t allow Quidditch matches at Hogwarts."


    "That''s awful!" Draco exclaimed, outraged.


    Despite coming from a pureblood family, Draco was a diehard Quidditch fan. The idea of a headmaster banning the sport at Hogwarts was simply unforgivable in his eyes.


    Oh? This kid has potential.


    Harry extended his hand.


    "What?" Draco took it, and Harry shook it twice.


    "In my time, there was a saying¡ª" Harry grinned, "if you hate Headmaster Black, you''re one of us."


    "Absolutely!" Draco nodded firmly. "Merlin, I used to think Dumbledore was the worst headmaster imaginable, but I guess I was wrong¡ªthere was someone even worse before him¡­"


    "Why do you think Slytherin got along so well with the other three houses back then?" Harry laughed. "Because we all had a common enemy¡ªHeadmaster Black."


    Draco chuckled at that.


    "If I had been a Slytherin in that era, I probably would¡¯ve befriended Gryffindors just for that reason alone."


    "Slytherin back then was nothing like Slytherin now," Harry said with a hint of nostalgia. "In those days, Slytherin valued honor more than blood purity, and its members strived for excellence above all else. But now? Aside from that Farley girl, how many decent Slytherins are there? Including you."


    If this had been first-year Harry Potter saying those words, Draco would have argued with him until his face turned red.


    But coming from the legendary wizard Harry Potter, Draco had no room to argue.


    "You¡¯re right," he admitted.


    "That¡¯s why change has to start with you, Draco," Harry patted him on the shoulder. "When we have time, I¡¯ll tell you about two of my Slytherin friends from back then¡ªSebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt."


    "Alright," Harry cut off Draco before he could ask more questions. "It¡¯s getting late, and I¡¯ve got a friend waiting for me at the Leaky Cauldron."


    Seeing Harry¡¯s determination, Draco had no choice but to suppress his curiosity.


    "Fine, but don¡¯t forget," he reminded him.


    "Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t," Harry assured him.


    After bidding farewell to the Malfoys, Harry Disapparated, leaving the manor behind.


    "He really is the Savior, isn¡¯t he?" Narcissa murmured as she watched the spot where Harry had vanished.


    Lucius nodded slightly, acknowledging her words.


    "Father, Mother," Draco suddenly said, "he¡¯s not just the Savior¡ªhe¡¯s also a legendary wizard from a hundred years ago!"


    Hearing this, Lucius felt a sudden surge of irritation.


    "I think you¡ª"


    Before he could finish, Draco cut him off.


    "We just visited the room with Great-Grandfather¡¯s portrait. He recognized him," Draco said quickly. "If you don¡¯t believe me, Father, Mother, come with me and ask Great-Grandfather yourselves."


    Lucius and Narcissa exchanged glances.


    Could it be¡­ that the boy was telling the truth?


    ---


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 Chapter 113: Poppy - Want to Sleep Together?

    With lingering doubts, Lucius followed Draco into the room where the portrait of Septimus hung, half-believing and half-doubting what he was about to hear.


    It was understandable. After all, the man in the painting was his esteemed ancestor, someone who had even met that Potter. Not to mention, great-grandfather had wielded some influence in the wizarding world back in the day¡ªhe was certainly knowledgeable and well-versed in matters of magic.


    Well, what influence could great-grandfather possibly have had? Nothing much¡­ just slightly more than Voldemort in Britain, that¡¯s all.


    As soon as they entered the room, Draco impatiently rushed up to Septimus¡¯s portrait.


    "Don¡¯t disturb me unless it¡¯s important." Septimus¡¯s voice carried the unmistakable grumpiness of someone who had just been woken up.


    "Great-great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather!" Draco called out excitedly. "My parents don¡¯t believe that Harry is the same Harry from a hundred years ago. Please help me prove it to them!"


    Septimus gave him a long, unreadable look.


    Even if there hadn¡¯t been a prior agreement with Harry, being disturbed in his sleep was enough to make Septimus unwilling to tell him anything.


    Portraits needed sleep too!


    Stacking his irritation on top of that, Septimus¡¯s expression shifted into a dangerously amused smirk.


    "Lucius," he called out, shifting his gaze to the man standing behind Draco.


    "Great-grandfather," Lucius immediately bent forward in deference.


    "I have never doubted your financial acumen, Lucius," Septimus said with a glance at Draco. "But seeing your son now, I must question your parenting skills¡ª"


    Hearing this, Lucius¡¯s gaze turned predatory as he directed a bloodthirsty glare at Draco.


    Draco swallowed hard in terror.


    Wait, great-great-grandfather, why won¡¯t you just tell the truth?!


    Internally, he let out a mental scream akin to a startled groundhog.


    He spun around, attempting to flee, only to find his mother blocking his exit.


    "Great-grandfather, you¡¯re absolutely right," Narcissa smoothly picked up the conversation. "I, too, believe that a more traditional method of discipline suits children better. Overly humane approaches don¡¯t necessarily foster their healthy development."


    As Draco¡¯s eyes filled with despair, Lucius and Narcissa each grabbed an arm and dragged him out of the room.


    Moments later, the Malfoy Manor resounded with Draco¡¯s anguished cries, startling a flock of ravens into flight.


    Harry had foreseen Draco¡¯s impending suffering, but he felt quite pleased about it.


    Perhaps he had inherited a bit of James¡¯s mischievous streak¡ªhe did have a taste for schadenfreude.


    More importantly, Harry had obtained a crucial lead from the Malfoys.


    While the Malfoy family did not possess Angel¡¯s Feather or Basilisk Fang, Lucius had pointed him in the right direction¡ªperhaps he could try his luck at the home of the legendary French alchemist, Nicolas Flamel.


    Nicolas, huh? Now, that was a familiar name.


    Back in the day, he and Veratia had once been guests at Nicolas¡¯s home. Veratia¡¯s parents were also longtime friends with the Flamels.


    In fact, when Veratia¡¯s father was still a child, the Flamels had even cradled him in their arms.


    In terms of seniority and age, few in the wizarding world could rival the Flamel couple.


    Considering the late hour, and out of respect for the elderly, Harry decided to write to Nicolas first and wait for a response before traveling to his residence.


    Apparition could be used for long distances. Back in the day, Harry had apparated all the way from London to Hogsmeade, covering nearly the entire country in one go.


    Now, with the Philosopher¡¯s Stone enhancing his abilities, his understanding of the spell had reached new heights.


    When it came to certain spells, magical strength was a simple matter¡ªbigger was better, more was preferable, and raw power made things work.


    --


    Upon returning to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry found the tavern still in full swing.


    After exchanging greetings with Tom and a few enthusiastic wizards, he ascended the stairs to his room.


    Inside, Poppy was sprawled out on his bed, limbs akimbo and wrapped in a blanket, snoring softly.


    Hearing the door open, Poppy lazily cracked one eye open.


    "Poppy," Harry greeted her. "I¡¯m back."


    "Oh," Poppy sniffed the air. "I smell something delicious¡ªYou had good food, didn¡¯t you? You did, didn¡¯t you? Did you bring me anything tasty?"


    Harry reached out, ruffling her hair with a chuckle. "It¡¯s not very polite to take food from someone else¡¯s house. I¡¯ll buy you something nice tomorrow, okay?"


    "Alright, alright," Poppy murmured, enjoying his touch as she closed her eyes again.


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    After a moment, she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, but don¡¯t get me anything coffee-flavored. I don¡¯t like that bitter taste¡ªI like sweet things."


    "Alright, alright," Harry laughed. "Whatever flavor you want. Here¡ª"


    He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a piece of chocolate. "This is milk chocolate¡ªsweet. Try it."


    Poppy eyed the chocolate suspiciously before popping it into her mouth.


    A moment later, she beamed. "Hehe, just as I thought!"


    "Only eat half," Harry warned, pulling his hand back. "Too much, and you won¡¯t be able to sleep."


    "Don¡¯t worry, Harry," Poppy assured him, shaking her head.


    "Mm, I¡¯ll be heading to France soon," Harry informed her. "Do you want to come with me?"


    "Yay! France!" Poppy cheered. "There¡¯s so much delicious food in France¡ªI love French cuisine!"


    Harry gave her an "OK" gesture.


    "Alright then, let¡¯s get some sleep. We need to wake up early tomorrow." He opened his trunk. "Come inside and sleep. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll head back to my uncle¡¯s place first, then I¡¯ll have Hedwig deliver a letter to Flamel."


    "I don¡¯t want to go in," Poppy said, shaking her head.


    Harry raised a brow and sighed. "Alright, if you don¡¯t want to, suit yourself. Sleep outside then."


    Poppy let out another cheer, bounced onto the bed, and patted the covers with her hooves. "Come on, Harry, big sis will sleep with you¡ª"


    "I¡¯m not a little kid anymore," Harry chuckled, amused by her antics.


    If it weren¡¯t for the fact that she was a unicorn, he had a feeling Veratia or Cassandra would have something to say about this...


    Wait, why did that even cross my mind? he mused.


    --


    In the middle of the night, Harry groggily felt as if a girl in a Hufflepuff uniform was lying beside him.


    Opening his eyes, he found Poppy standing on the bed, dozing off.


    Oh, right¡ªhorses sleep standing up¡­


    With that realization, he thought nothing of it, rolled over, and quickly drifted back to sleep.


    Seeing him settle in again, Poppy let out a relieved sigh.


    Early the next morning, Harry felt an oppressive weight on his chest, as if some unbearable burden of life had been placed upon him.


    Opening his eyes, he saw Poppy¡¯s head resting on his chest. She seemed to be dreaming about eating something delicious, her mouth still chewing unconsciously.


    "Poppy..."


    He was struggling to breathe.


    Do you have any idea how much damage a horse-sized head can do to a twelve-year-old boy?


    "Huh?" Poppy stirred and sat up with a gulp, noticing Harry¡¯s difficulty breathing. She playfully nudged his chest with a mischievous grin.


    "Alright, alright, let''s wash up first¡ªcome on, I¡¯ll help you brush your teeth," Harry said.


    To his surprise, despite having lived in the forest for so long, Poppy¡¯s teeth were still as white as snow.


    He couldn¡¯t help but feel a little envious.


    "Are my teeth very bir?" Poppy mumbled with her mouth held open by Harry.


    "White," Harry confirmed, brushing her teeth up and down before handing her a small basin of water. "Rinse."


    Poppy obediently spit out the water¡ªright onto Harry¡¯s face.


    "Haha!" She laughed joyfully.


    Harry wiped his face helplessly and put down the towel.


    "Breakfast first, then we¡¯ll head back to my uncle¡¯s house¡ªyou should stay in my wallet for a bit."


    "Wallet?" Poppy stretched her neck curiously. "What wallet?"


    "The Gringotts compensation," Harry replied honestly. "They compensated me because the inheritance Veratia left behind was lost due to their negligence."


    "Eh? That¡¯s a thing?" Poppy asked, intrigued.


    "You¡¯ll understand when Veratia returns." Harry patted Poppy¡¯s head. "When he heads to Austria to settle things with Gellert, I¡¯ll take you with me. We¡¯ll be on the front lines."


    "Oh, don¡¯t forget that! I love witnessing things like that." Poppy whispered excitedly.


    Harry readily agreed. Something this interesting? Of course, he wouldn¡¯t forget his good friend.


    "But Harry," Poppy suddenly said, "since you mentioned that Gringotts will cover the cost of finding materials, if you find alchemy ingredients in France, make sure they pay the bill..."


    Hearing this, Harry immediately realized the significance of her words.


    "You¡¯re absolutely right, Poppy," he nodded seriously. "I think that¡¯s a perfectly feasible plan."


    After hastily finishing breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron and settling his bill for the past two days, Harry Apparated back to the Dursley household.


    It was early in the morning, and the Dursleys were having breakfast.


    Uncle Vernon had a cigarette in one hand and The Guardian in the other.


    As someone who believed he should be running the country, Uncle Vernon was particularly devoted to reading The Guardian.


    "I want more bacon," Dudley said. "I¡¯m still hungry, Mum."


    "There¡¯s plenty in the pan, darling," Aunt Petunia said, her eyes moist as she looked at her hefty son. "We need to fatten you up while we can¡­ the school¡¯s meals sound awful..."


    Before she could finish, Harry spun into existence right in the middle of the kitchen.


    The three of them froze, and both Petunia and Vernon screamed in unison.


    "I suppose you¡¯re even more uncomfortable now," Dudley said, dropping his fork onto the table. But he quickly recovered and raised a hand to greet Harry. "Hey, Harry."


    "Hey, cousin," Harry said, pulling up a chair and peering into the frying pan. "Ah, more bacon. I think I could use some."


    Dudley grinned stupidly at him.


    Truth be told, after a year of not seeing Harry, he actually kind of missed his cousin¡ªespecially the chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes Harry used to bring. Just thinking about them made his mouth water.


    Harry made himself right at home. He¡¯d barely eaten at the Leaky Cauldron¡ªits breakfast was just too awful.


    Seeing how much Poppy had enjoyed the food, he had given his entire meal to her instead.


    Poppy, of course, had eaten everything Harry fed her without hesitation. Watching her eat so much, Harry couldn''t help but worry¡ªwas this level of appetite really okay for her health?


    "I specifically warned you in my letter!" Uncle Vernon¡¯s face turned red as he slammed the table. "No using that nonsense in this house!"


    "Oh, Uncle, hello there." Harry acted as if he hadn¡¯t heard a word Vernon said and turned to Aunt Petunia. "And Aunt, you¡¯re looking quite a few years younger."


    He wasn¡¯t just flattering her. In truth, magical beauty potions were leagues ahead of anything the Muggle world had to offer.


    Their effects were immediate and undeniable. Any pigmentation, freckles, or imperfections¡ªgone in an instant.


    Hearing Harry¡¯s words, Aunt Petunia¡¯s expression softened considerably.


    "This is for you, Aunt." Harry took a bundle of beauty potions from his wallet. "I noticed you seem to enjoy this kind of... product, so I brought you some before I left."


    He carefully avoided using any words related to magic. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. At Aunt Petunia¡¯s house, he was a Muggle; in the wizarding world, he was a wizard. Harry was flexible like that.


    "Thank you." Aunt Petunia forced a smile.


    You had to admit, seeing Harry bring a gift for Aunt Petunia¡ªespecially something that made her look visibly younger¡ªchanged Uncle Vernon¡¯s attitude as well.


    He grunted, sat back in his chair, and muttered, "Just... don¡¯t let the neighbors see your tricks, or we¡¯ll have a problem."


    "And this is for you, Uncle." Harry pulled out a lighter. "I bought it from Harrods."


    Mentioning Harrods was a deliberate move¡ªit reassured Vernon.


    See? This was a Muggle product, not some wizarding trickery.


    Sure enough, upon hearing the name "Harrods," Uncle Vernon¡¯s expression eased further.


    Everyone knew that Harrods was a luxury department store. Harry buying him something from there was clearly a sign of respect.


    Vernon took the lighter and grumbled a barely audible "Thank you."


    Harry grinned and swiped a strip of bacon from Dudley¡¯s plate.


    "You didn¡¯t bring me a gift!" Dudley protested, looking disgruntled.


    Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both stared at him in shock. They had never expected anyone to steal food from their precious Dudders¡¯ plate¡ªand for Dudley to just let it slide.


    "Oh, my dear cousin," Harry drawled, his voice slick with mockery. "Of course, I brought you a gift. But¡ªplease, allow your poor cousin to eat first. He hasn¡¯t had breakfast yet."


    Aunt Petunia looked at him as if she had just seen a ghost.


    This nephew of hers¡ªafter a year apart¡ªwhy did he sound so much like that greasy-haired little bat?


    ---


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 Chapter 114: What’s There to Eat? Break Me Off a Piece

    Petunia quickly dismissed the thought¡ªafter all, her sister and that greasy little bat had long since fallen out.


    Still, every time she thought of that little bat, Petunia couldn¡¯t help but grit her teeth in frustration.


    Back then, at her most vulnerable moment, the last thing she wanted was for anyone to see her letters. Yet, it was that greasy little bat and her sister who had peeked, tearing her self-esteem to shreds without mercy.


    Later, when she heard that her brother-in-law had once given the little bat a rather thorough lesson back at school, Petunia had secretly given him a thumbs-up¡ªeven though he was arrogant, conceited, and thought the world revolved around him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already tidied up the room upstairs for you.¡± Aunt Petunia cleared her throat, looking as though she was trying to maintain a serious demeanor. ¡°When your letter arrived a few days ago¡ªhonestly, I never expected you¡¯d send an owl instead of just calling.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Aunt Petunia,¡± Harry said helplessly. ¡°There¡¯s no phone over there. It¡¯s a bit¡­ outdated.¡±


    Upon hearing this, Uncle Vernon¡¯s eyebrows shot up.


    ¡°Yes! Exactly!¡± Uncle Vernon boomed. ¡°They¡¯re a bunch of stubborn old fools! It¡¯s good that you¡¯ve realized that¡ªvery good indeed¡­ at least all these years in the Dursley household haven¡¯t been for nothing.¡±


    Harry thought to himself, For nothing, my ass. But outwardly, he simply smiled at Uncle Vernon.


    His mind was elsewhere¡ªon Veratia and Cassandra. All he could think about was finding a way to pull them out of time itself. He had no energy to waste arguing with the Dursleys.


    ¡°Your birthday¡¯s in a few days, isn¡¯t it?¡± Uncle Vernon continued. ¡°The 31st, if I¡¯m not mistaken¡ªat least, that¡¯s what the letter said. We¡¯ll have your aunt bake you a cake for lunch as a little celebration¡­ but in the evening, I have an important business deal to handle.¡±


    ¡°What kind of business?¡± Harry took a sip of milk.


    ¡°If it goes through, it¡¯ll be the biggest deal of my life.¡± Uncle Vernon¡¯s beady eyes practically gleamed like a beetle¡¯s. ¡°My god, if we¡¯re lucky, by this time on August 1st, we¡¯ll be picking out a villa in Majorca!¡±


    ¡°So I hope you can¡ªhmm, keep that owl of yours in check.¡± Uncle Vernon turned to Harry. ¡°Try to keep it quiet. I¡¯ll make sure you get a nice big room.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Harry said, doing his best to sound sincere.


    ¡°Now then.¡± Uncle Vernon turned to Dudley. ¡°His job is to stay out of sight, but you, my dear Dudley¡ªyou¡¯re different. You¡¯re so likable, so adorable¡ªI¡¯m sure the Masons will absolutely love you.¡±


    Love Dudley?


    Harry glanced at his cousin, whose backside spilled over the edges of the chair, and silently prayed that the Masons were devout Anglicans.


    After all, Anglicans might not mind a pig in a wig.


    ¡°Yeah, Cousin Dudley is definitely a real charmer, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± Harry said, downing the last of his milk.


    Uncle Vernon beamed in satisfaction.


    ¡°You¡¯re much more likable than your father ever was, boy.¡±


    Harry considered this for a moment.


    Years of suffering in the Dursley household, getting tormented in Potions class by Snape¡­


    Harry remained silent.


    Sometimes, he wondered¡ªif his dad had made fewer enemies, would his own life have been a little easier?


    --


    After breakfast, Harry noticed Dudley trying to leave with him, only to be stopped by Uncle Vernon.


    Dudley looked utterly disappointed, forced to stay behind and rehearse¡ªagain and again¡ªhow to properly greet the Masons when they arrived.


    It wasn¡¯t until lunchtime that he was finally let go.


    ¡°My god, I¡¯m suffocating,¡± Dudley plopped down on the doorstep, panting as he complained to Harry. ¡°You have no idea¡ªDad¡¯s been making me practice how to greet guests for a whole week¡­ bloody hell.¡±


    ¡°This is why you¡¯ve lost weight?¡± Harry¡¯s lips curled into a sweetly sarcastic smile.


    ¡°I had no idea they actually taught sarcasm at wizard school.¡± Dudley slung an arm around his cousin¡¯s scrawny shoulders. ¡°God, if only you weren¡¯t so mean to me back then¡­¡±


    ¡°And if I had been nicer to you, would you have bullied me any less?¡± Harry asked.


    Dudley thought about it, then answered honestly, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well then, neither would I.¡± Harry was just as honest. ¡°But I¡¯m older now¡ªI should probably start learning to be as fake as the adults.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ you don¡¯t like me?¡± Dudley looked at Harry with a pitiful expression.


    ¡°Eh, I wouldn¡¯t say I dislike you,¡± Harry patted Dudley¡¯s meaty shoulder¡ªthicker than a ham hock. ¡°You know, wizards don¡¯t believe in much¡­ except Merlin.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Dudley could tell Harry was up to something, but he had no proof.


    ¡°Nothing. But if you want to lose some weight, I can get you something for that.¡± Harry tugged at Dudley¡¯s belly fat. ¡°Look at this¡ªit¡¯s practically sagging.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Dudley flinched from the ticklish sensation, laughing uncontrollably. ¡°Dad says this is manly¡­ ha¡­ha¡­ and Mum still thinks I¡¯m too thin.¡±


    ¡°What about the girls at school?¡± Harry delivered the final blow.


    Dudley opened his mouth, then suddenly seemed to realize something.


    ¡°Well, I am good at boxing,¡± Dudley said, recovering quickly. ¡°If anyone at school dares make fun of me, all it takes is one punch to shut them up.¡±


    Harry imagined the scene for a moment¡­


    Hmm. If Dudley ever met Draco, now that would be interesting.


    Just picture it¡ªDudley goes to Hogwarts, Draco calls him a Mudblood¡­


    Dudley might not get mad at first, but once he found out what the word meant, he¡¯d definitely deck him.


    Not gonna lie¡ªthat would be hilarious.


    ¡°Sometimes, you have to learn to think for yourself, Dudley.¡± Harry rested an elbow on Dudley¡¯s thick shoulder. ¡°Parents aren¡¯t always right. You need to know how to judge right from wrong because¡­ well, let¡¯s just say, it might be a problem for you later. For now, it¡¯s fine. But what if you can¡¯t find a girlfriend?¡±


    Harry said this while giving Dudley¡¯s belly another squeeze.


    ¡°Then get me some of that weight-loss stuff, Harry,¡± Dudley said seriously. ¡°I don¡¯t want to end up single forever¡ªthat¡¯d be tragic.¡±


    Then, he suddenly remembered something even more important.


    ¡°But¡­ where¡¯s my present?¡±


    Harry finally recalled how much Dudley loved gifts.


    He once flipped an entire dinner table because he received two fewer presents than expected¡ªscaring Harry so much he almost choked on his bacon.


    ¡°Your present¡¯s upstairs. A bunch of sweets from the wizarding world¡ªI got a little of everything for you.¡± Harry stood up and patted Dudley. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± The moment food was mentioned, Dudley¡¯s eyes lit up.


    He followed Harry closely all the way to his room.


    Harry pulled out his wallet, retrieved his trunk, and began taking out snacks for Dudley.


    ¡°Wow, Cauldron Cakes!¡± Dudley cheered, tearing into the package the moment he saw them.


    He had to admit¡ªthey were delicious. The raspberry jam inside was perfectly sweet and tart, making his appetite soar.


    Before he knew it, he¡¯d devoured seven in a row.


    ¡°You eat way too fast,¡± Harry said helplessly, grabbing more snacks for him.


    Neither of them noticed that Poppy had silently appeared behind them, moving like a ghost, watching quietly.


    "And this too¡ªyou have to try it." Harry handed Dudley some Honeydukes candy. "Here, open this jar and take a look."


    Dudley, unaware of the impending horror, took the jar and twisted off the lid...


    "Oh my¡ª!"


    He let out a scream, nearly tossing the jar away.


    Inside, a mass of cockroaches squirmed and wriggled, packed so tightly together that their antennae were already poking out of the jar.


    Even with his relatively strong nerves, Dudley was nearly scared senseless by this utterly revolting sight.


    Thankfully, he reacted quickly and slammed the lid back on in an instant.


    "What is this?" Dudley asked, still shaken.


    "Candy. A type of cockroach-shaped candy." Harry answered nonchalantly. "Don''t be fooled by how it looks¡ªit actually tastes really good. Supposedly, it has a creamy filling. You should give it a try¡ª"


    Before Harry could finish, Dudley shut his eyes, twisted the lid open again, grabbed one of the cockroach candies, and popped it into his mouth.


    After a moment, his eyes lit up with delight.


    "Ah, so sweet! It¡¯s delicious!"


    "I think you and my headmaster would really get along, honestly." Harry looked at Dudley as if he were a warrior. "He¡¯s quite fond of this kind of candy, but most people at school think he¡¯s completely mad."


    "I don¡¯t think so." Dudley held the jar in his hands, suddenly flashing an evil grin.


    "Why are you smiling like that?" Harry asked warily.


    "What do you think would happen if I took this candy to school?" Dudley said wickedly. "I could trick my classmates into thinking it¡¯s a real cockroach and tell them that whoever dares to eat one is the bravest person in the school. Then, at the last moment, I¡¯ll eat one myself and prove my courage. What do you think?"


    "Unless you want to go down in history as ''Dudley the Cockroach Eater,'' I¡¯d advise against it." Harry said seriously.


    Dudley thought about it for a moment. That was a fair point.


    He nodded in agreement.


    "I suggest you screw the lid on tightly," Harry added, offering a reasonable suggestion. "After all, you wouldn¡¯t want a real cockroach sneaking in there."


    "That¡¯s a very reasonable suggestion," Dudley acknowledged.


    He tightened the jar¡¯s lid and set it aside before picking up another box. "What¡¯s this?"


    "Drooble¡¯s Best Blowing Gum," Harry introduced. "It lets you blow bubbles the color of bluebells, and they¡¯ll float around the room for days before bursting."


    "Nice!" Dudley set the box aside. "Oh, what about this?"


    "I¡¯d advise you not to¡ª"


    Before Harry could finish his warning, Dudley had already taken a big bite out of the biscuit in his hand.


    "Hagrid¡¯s rock cakes," Harry sighed. "I forgot to take those out..."


    "It¡¯s actually not bad," Dudley said cheerfully, chewing away at the supposedly rock-hard biscuit as if it were nothing.


    Harry glanced at the rock cake, then at his cousin, and thought to himself¡ªmaybe people''s physiques really are different?


    Just then, a white horse¡¯s head suddenly appeared over Dudley¡¯s shoulder.


    "What are you eating? Give me a bite!"


    Hearing the unfamiliar female voice, Dudley froze for a second.


    He was absolutely certain¡ªthere were only two people in this room: him and Harry. No woman was present.


    He turned his head and let out a horrified scream.


    There, looking back at him, was Poppy¡¯s head.


    It wasn¡¯t just that someone had suddenly appeared¡ªit was the fact that this "someone" was clearly a horse.


    A talking horse.


    Good heavens, this was terrifying.


    Fortunately, Harry had cast a Silencing Charm on the room before coming in, or else Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would have come running by now.


    "Sweet Mother Mary!" Dudley shrieked in terror.


    "Not Mary," Poppy corrected. "Poppy."


    Dudley glanced at Poppy, then at Harry, still visibly shaken.


    "Poppy?"


    "Poppy is a unicorn, Dudley," Harry explained as simply as he could. "She¡¯s my friend. You should feel honored¡ªunicorns only greet those with the purest souls."


    "His soul is quite pure," Poppy said, eyeing Dudley. Then, turning to Harry, she added, "It seems like the only thing that matters to him in life is food."


    "I hate to admit it, Miss Unicorn," Dudley, still recovering from his shock, said with a nervous chuckle, "but you¡¯re absolutely right."


    "Alright, Dudley, don¡¯t panic." Harry patted the bed and invited Poppy to sit down. Then he leaned against her casually and said, "Unicorns are sacred creatures. You should be happy to meet one, not scared."


    "Really?" Dudley swallowed nervously and took another good look at Poppy.


    He had to admit¡ªshe did look incredibly majestic. Even someone as straightforward as Dudley could sense her divine presence.


    "Dudley! Dudley!"


    Uncle Vernon¡¯s voice called from outside.


    "I should go now, Harry," Dudley sighed. "The Masons are coming over, and I still have to practice how to greet them."


    Then, looking irritated, he grumbled, "Ugh, I really don¡¯t know what¡¯s up with Dad. Why does he have to keep making me do this over and over again?"


    "Actually, you do have another option," Poppy suddenly said.


    "What option?" Dudley¡¯s eyes lit up.


    He really didn¡¯t want to go through the tiresome practice session again. If there was any way to get out of it, he¡¯d be overjoyed.


    "You could ask Harry to brew you some Felix Felicis," Poppy suggested, shaking her mane. "Liquid Luck will make anyone feel extraordinarily happy. Think about it¡ªif the Masons come over and eat something infused with Felix Felicis, they''ll be in such a good mood that your father¡¯s business deal will go off without a hitch."


    The more Poppy spoke, the brighter Dudley¡¯s eyes became.


    By the time she finished, he let out an excited cheer and dashed out of the room.


    "I¡¯m going to tell Dad right now!" he yelled as he ran off, not even looking back.


    <div>


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    <div>

 Chapter 115: A Small Trouble at the Ministry of Magic

    As Dudley made his way downstairs, Harry finished writing his letter to Nicolas Flamel.


    He spent quite some time deliberating over the signature before finally signing it as "Veratia."


    Well, hopefully, the old man wouldn''t let out a sharp, piercing shriek upon seeing it.


    Hmm¡­ but considering how frail Flamel had appeared the last time they met, with bones as brittle as biscuits, he probably wouldn''t be able to make such a sharp sound anyway.


    What Harry hadn''t expected was that Dudley never came back upstairs after leaving.


    He didn¡¯t think much of it. It was only when dinner time arrived that he finally went downstairs.


    Before heading down, he made sure to send off his letter to Flamel¡ªHedwig had to take on the task again.


    He specifically instructed Hedwig that once she arrived at Flamel¡¯s residence, she didn¡¯t need to fly back. He would bring her back himself when he went to France.


    As for the reply, he was certain Mr. Flamel would find a way to deliver it.


    Hedwig: At least you still care about me crossing the ocean.


    Dinner was rather sumptuous. Aunt Petunia¡¯s cooking was actually quite good¡ªotherwise¡­ well, Uncle Vernon and Dudley wouldn¡¯t be so well-fed.


    Sometimes, Harry wondered¡ªif Aunt Petunia ever opened a pig farm, she¡¯d probably make a fortune.


    Just look at the two right here at home...


    The meal was mostly silent. Just when Harry thought it would pass without incident, Uncle Vernon suddenly spoke up.


    ¡°Harry.¡±


    Harry was a little surprised¡ªthis was the first time Uncle Vernon had ever called him that.


    Usually, it was ¡°boy,¡± ¡°freak,¡± ¡°Potter,¡± or ¡°Harry Potter.¡± Never just ¡°Harry.¡±


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± he asked casually.


    ¡°Dudley told me¡­ about that potion,¡± Uncle Vernon said, his face turning red, as if he found it difficult to voice what came next. ¡°Do you think it really works? Not that I¡ªwell, I mean¡­ does it really work?¡±


    ¡°It does, Uncle.¡± Harry pulled out the small bottle of shimmering potion from his pocket and placed it on the table. ¡°Just add a little to the food, and the person who eats it will feel happy¡ªdo you want to try?¡±


    ¡°¡­Alright.¡± Uncle Vernon nodded.


    Harry uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into Uncle Vernon¡¯s wine glass.


    Uncle Vernon picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp.


    Within moments, the corners of his mouth curled up uncontrollably.


    ¡°I feel¡­ happy.¡±


    He turned to look at Harry, a complex expression on his face.


    ¡°To be honest, for the first time in over ten years, I actually find you pleasant to look at¡­ feels like looking at Dudley¡ª¡±


    At this point, he realized something was wrong.


    ¡°Good heavens! It actually works?!¡±


    ¡°Just like I said.¡± Harry shrugged.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Uncle Vernon reached out and patted Harry on the shoulder. ¡°I owe you one, boy.¡±


    Harry simply smiled at him.


    On the day of Harry¡¯s birthday, he even received a huge birthday cake at noon.


    His small room had long since been filled with gifts from his friends. Ron had also written, anxiously asking why he hadn¡¯t come over yet¡ªhe had been waiting for so long, and the whole family was looking forward to seeing him.


    Harry sent a reply, telling him that he¡¯d be there that afternoon.


    During lunch, he informed his aunt and uncle that he wouldn¡¯t be home for dinner¡ªespecially emphasizing that his owl had already left.


    After Uncle Vernon¡¯s half-hearted attempt to make him stay, which Harry declined with a wave of his hand, he packed up, took Poppy, hailed a taxi, and headed for the Leaky Cauldron.


    Inside the pub, Ron was already waiting at their usual spot.


    As soon as Harry walked in, Ron put down his butterbeer and rushed over.


    ¡°Harry! Happy birthday!¡± he said.


    ¡°Thanks, Ron.¡± Harry grinned and patted his shoulder.


    ¡°Oh, we need to wait a bit,¡± Ron glanced toward the entrance. ¡°Dad should be here soon, and then we¡¯ll head home together.¡±


    Just as he finished speaking, the door of the Leaky Cauldron swung open again.


    A slightly thin, middle-aged man walked in. Harry noticed he was balding a little, but the remaining hair was the same shade of red as Ron¡¯s.


    If he wasn¡¯t mistaken, this was Ron¡¯s father¡ªArthur Weasley.


    Mr. Weasley was wearing a long green robe, looking rather travel-worn.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Dad!¡± Ron waved.


    Mr. Weasley spotted Ron, waved back, and walked over to their table.


    ¡°A pint of beer!¡± he called out loudly, collapsing into a chair, removing his glasses, and closing his eyes as if utterly exhausted.


    ¡°What a day,¡± Mr. Weasley muttered. ¡°The Aurors dropped the ball again, and we had to clean up the mess¡ª¡±


    ¡°What happened, Dad?¡± Ron asked, before quickly introducing, ¡°Oh, Dad, this is Harry¡ªHarry Potter, the one I always talk about.¡±


    ¡°Harry?¡± Mr. Weasley blinked in confusion. ¡°Which Harry?¡±


    He glanced around and spotted Harry sitting quietly to the side.


    ¡°Merlin¡¯s beard! The Harry Potter?¡± He immediately sprang to his feet.


    ¡°It¡¯s an honor to meet you! Ron¡¯s told us so much about you¡­ Hello, I¡¯m Arthur Weasley, Ron¡¯s father. Thank you for looking out for him at school.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Uncle Arthur. That¡¯s what friends do,¡± Harry replied with a friendly smile. ¡°You seemed really busy just now¡ªwas there something urgent happening?¡±


    Mr. Weasley¡¯s expression turned complicated. He waved a hand and said, ¡°Good heavens, there was a Dark wizard in Knockturn Alley who had captured several Muggles. Some unknown kind soul rescued them¡ªbut forgot to Obliviate them. So, as soon as they got out, they went and published everything in the Muggle newspapers! Cleaning up the aftermath was a nightmare¡­ And tonight, unless something unexpected happens, we¡¯ll probably have to go out again to modify their memories.¡±


    ¡°What was the Dark wizard doing with the Muggles?¡± Ron asked, curious.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t want to know, Ron.¡± Mr. Weasley gave him a look that clearly said, You¡¯re better off not asking.


    Just then, the bartender handed him a mug of ice-cold beer, and he took a long, deep gulp.


    ¡°Ahhh¡­ now that¡¯s life.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who rescued them?¡± Ron asked again.


    ¡°No idea. The Muggle Prime Minister and Fudge discussed it and decided we¡¯re not allowed to use Veritaserum on the rescued Muggles,¡± Mr. Weasley sighed. ¡°It makes sense, though. They¡¯ve already been through enough, and giving them Veritaserum would just¡­ be too cruel.¡±


    ¡°Which means more work for us.¡± He took another swig of beer before turning to Harry. ¡°I heard from Ron that it¡¯s your birthday today¡ªHappy Birthday, Harry!¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Uncle Arthur,¡± Harry replied politely.


    Mr. Weasley sighed internally. This child¡­ He really is a good kid. Just like his mother¡­


    ¡°So, I heard you¡¯ve been living in the Muggle world all this time?¡± Mr. Weasley asked again. ¡°Tell me¡ªwhat exactly is the purpose of a rubber duck?¡±


    Harry chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s actually just a toy for Muggle children to play with during bath time¡ªnothing more.¡±


    ¡°Oh! So that¡¯s what it is!¡± Mr. Weasley¡¯s eyes lit up, as if he had finally solved a long-standing mystery.


    He added, ¡°I¡¯ll take you two home first, then I¡¯ll have to get back to work. Honestly¡­ exhausting.¡±


    Then he turned to Harry again and said warmly, ¡°Don¡¯t be shy, Harry. Our home is your home. Molly¡¯s been talking about you nonstop. Especially when Ron said you were coming today¡ªshe¡¯s made loads of delicious food for you.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Harry¡¯s face lit up with excitement.


    "Of course." Mr. Weasley panted for a moment before saying to the two of them, "Let me rest for a bit, and then I''ll take you back."


    After speaking, Mr. Weasley leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to rest. Ron nudged Harry in the ribs and whispered, "He might have fallen asleep."


    Just as he finished speaking, the sound of snoring began.


    "Mr. Weasley is already exhausted." Harry patted Ron. "We¡¯d better not disturb him. He¡¯ll wake up on his own in a bit."


    As he said this, he felt a little guilty¡ªafter all, he was the one who hadn¡¯t erased the Muggle¡¯s memory.


    It wouldn¡¯t have been such a big deal if it were just anyone else, but this was Mr. Weasley... the descendant of his good buddy Gareth, and more importantly, Ron¡¯s father.


    The family ties... yeah, they were a bit messy.


    "If I ever find out who did this, I¡¯ll make sure they regret it!" Ron was still fuming¡ªnot for any other reason, but because his father had been worn out to the point of collapsing. "Just wait and see, Harry!"


    "Uh... yeah." Harry turned his head away, feeling extremely guilty.


    "What¡¯s with you?" Ron patted Harry on the shoulder. "It¡¯s not like that person was you."


    Harry thought to himself, No, that person was me.


    Wait¡ª


    No, hold on. Back in Knockturn Alley, he had used the alias "Sebastian ''None of Your Damn Business.''" So whatever Sebastian did had nothing to do with Harry Potter, right?


    Thinking this way, Harry¡¯s guilt eased a little.


    Before long, Mr. Weasley suddenly snored so loudly it seemed like he had choked on something, jolting himself awake.


    Groggily, he smacked his lips and asked, "How long was I out?"


    "Half an hour," Ron replied.


    Mr. Weasley rubbed his face haphazardly and let out a long yawn.


    "Let me wake up a bit more." Mr. Weasley said, "Then I¡¯ll Apparate you two home¡ªah, I forgot to drive today. Otherwise, I¡¯d have let Harry see our car..."


    "I remember Mr. Granger seemed quite interested in flying cars," Harry said to Ron. "Back at Hermione¡¯s place during Christmas, you told Mr. Granger about your flying car."


    "Did I? Haha!" Mr. Weasley chuckled proudly. "That took me a lot of work to modify¡ªyou mean Mr. Granger? Hermione¡¯s dad? I remember Ron often mentioned a little girl named Hermione who¡¯s quite close with you lot?"


    "Yeah, she¡¯s a member of our Duel Club," Harry said with a smile.


    "I¡¯ve heard about your dueling group, Harry." Mr. Weasley patted Harry¡¯s arm. "If you don¡¯t mind, could you include Fred and George? Those two have boundless energy every day. It¡¯s better for them to burn it off practicing dueling than pranking people at school."


    "Sure," Harry agreed without hesitation.


    "Great." Mr. Weasley stood up. "You two, come with me to the door. I¡¯ll Apparate us back."


    A moment later, the three of them appeared at the entrance of the Weasley home.


    As soon as Ron landed, he gagged and vomited up all the Butterbeer he had just drunk.


    "No matter how many times I do it, I¡¯ll never get used to this," Ron groaned.


    "Go inside and drink some water; you¡¯ll feel better." Mr. Weasley patted Ron¡¯s back, trying to help him recover.


    Harry looked up at Ron¡¯s house.


    To be honest, the Weasley home was quite simple¡ªit seemed to have once been a large stone pigsty, later expanded bit by bit with additional rooms until it reached several stories high, tilting slightly as if held together by magic.


    Harry swore that if it weren¡¯t for magic, the house would have collapsed ages ago.


    The red roof had four or five chimneys, and in front of the house stood a slanted sign with the words "The Burrow."


    By the door lay a few high-top leather boots and a rusted cauldron, while a few plump brown hens pecked at the ground in the yard, looking quite content.


    "Not much to look at, huh?" Ron turned his head away awkwardly, his ears turning red.


    "It¡¯s amazing." Harry sincerely put an arm around Ron¡¯s shoulder. "I mean, it feels like a real home¡ªso warm and inviting."


    "You think so?" Ron finally smiled. "I think so too¡ªthough it¡¯s a bit shabby, it¡¯s definitely a warm home."


    "Alright, kids." Mr. Weasley sighed. "I won¡¯t be staying for the evening feast. I need to head back to the Ministry... oh, Merlin..."


    "Take care, Uncle Arthur," Harry said politely.


    "Thank you, Harry." Mr. Weasley said, and then he disappeared on the spot.


    Ron waved toward the spot where Mr. Weasley had vanished, then turned to Harry and said, "Come on, let¡¯s go inside..."


    "Wait, I brought a friend along," Harry said as he opened his wallet and released Poppy.


    The moment Poppy touched sunlight, she neighed excitedly and bounced twice in delight.


    "Damn hell, you smuggled a unicorn?!" Ron pointed at Poppy, his face full of shock.


    He truly hadn¡¯t expected his best mate to be this bold¡ªto actually smuggle a unicorn!


    "Relax, we¡¯re all friends here." Harry patted Poppy¡¯s side.


    Before Ron could say anything else, they saw an owl flying toward them from the distant sky.


    "Whose owl is that?" Ron asked, looking up.


    They quickly got their answer.


    The owl flew straight to Harry, dropping an ornate envelope at his feet.


    "Oh, it¡¯s for you."


    Ron bent down to pick up the letter, glanced at it, then looked at Harry with widened eyes.


    "Nicolas Flamel?! Harry, you know Nicolas Flamel? And he¡¯s writing to you?!"


    Hearing this, Harry¡¯s heart skipped a beat.


    Nicolas Flamel?


    How did he know that letter was from me?!"


    <div>


    <div>


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    <div>


    <div>

 Chapter 116 - If You Give Them Face, Call It the Ministry of Magic; If Not...

    Before Harry even had a chance to open the letter, another owl drifted down gracefully, landing beside him.


    The envelope was extremely formal, embossed with the official seal of the Ministry of Magic.


    "It¡¯s an official letter from the Ministry of Magic, Harry," Ron said, looking slightly alarmed. "Did you use magic at home? Merlin¡¯s beard¡­"


    "It was just a couple of spells," Harry sighed. He had thought that if he didn¡¯t use a wand, it wouldn¡¯t be detected.


    He tore open the letter, and the message read:


    Mr. Potter,


    We have received reports that since the start of the holiday, you have performed Apparition, a Silencing Charm, and have promoted magical products to Muggles at No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging.


    You are aware that underage wizards are not permitted to perform magic outside of school, nor are they allowed to introduce magical substances, such as Euphoria Potions, into Muggle food. Should such behavior continue, you may face expulsion from Hogwarts (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Clause 3).


    Furthermore, please be reminded that according to Clause 13 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, any magical activity that might attract the attention of non-magical individuals (Muggles) is a serious violation of wizarding law.


    Considering that you are a first-year student and this is your first offense, the Ministry is issuing this as a formal warning.


    Enjoy your summer!


    Mafalda Hopkirk


    Improper Use of Magic Office, Ministry of Magic


    "How many laws did you just break?" Ron stared at the letter, looking thoroughly stunned.


    "No idea," Harry said nonchalantly, folding the letter into a paper airplane and tossing it away. "I think Hermione was right¡ªthe Ministry just monitors a general area. Since I¡¯m the only wizard at No. 4, Privet Drive, they assume it must be me casting spells."


    Using a process of elimination, it was easy to figure out. After all, when Harry used magic in Little Whinging, he hadn¡¯t used a wand, which meant the Ministry wasn¡¯t just tracking wands.


    And when he had performed a few harmless but potentially Azkaban-worthy jinxes in Knockturn Alley, the Ministry hadn¡¯t noticed at all. That only reinforced one thing¡ªwhen wizards gathered in large numbers, the Ministry couldn¡¯t pinpoint individual spellcasters.


    "No wonder Dad sometimes lets us practice spells at home," Ron said, suddenly enlightened.


    He glanced up and saw Harry¡¯s casual act of throwing away the letter, then asked nervously, "Uh¡­ are you sure that¡¯s a good idea? Won¡¯t the Ministry¡­?"


    "Relax," Harry shielded his eyes with his hand, watching as the paper airplane disappeared into the distance. "It¡¯s just the Ministry of Magic. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re going to throw me into Azkaban¡ª"


    Though, deep down, he figured it was best not to stir up unnecessary trouble. Rescuing Veratia and Cassandra was far more important than getting entangled in bureaucratic nonsense.


    Sometimes he wondered¡ªhow great would it have been if things had been reversed?


    If he had come to Hogwarts now, it would have been perfect. From the moment he entered the wizarding world, he was famous, everyone wanted to shake his hand, and he had enough money to buy a mountain of sweets to share on the train.


    He could have shone on the Quidditch pitch.


    No matter what mistakes he made, he¡¯d have friends by his side to share the consequences. If he was upset, he could always visit Hagrid, the towering, kind-hearted friend who always had his back.


    But what about the him who had gone to school a hundred years ago?


    He had no family, no friends, and not a single Galleon to his name. He had to be cautious, afraid that a single wrong word might get him expelled from school.


    If not for Professor Weasley and Gareth¡¯s help, he might have remained isolated forever.


    Life a hundred years ago¡­ was best left unspoken.


    As much as he hated to admit it, aside from the Weasley family of the past and his two mischievous Slytherin friends, Cassandra had been one of the few bright spots in his life¡ªalong with Veratia, who transferred to Hogwarts in their fifth year.


    So, after receiving the warning letter, Harry had no intention of picking a fight with the Ministry of Magic. Nothing was more important than saving the two girls. Everything else could wait.


    ¡­Though, knowing those two, they probably wouldn¡¯t take the Ministry seriously.


    One was the sister of a legendary Dark wizard, a natural spellcaster who could probably outmatch her infamous sibling. The other¡¯s father had once been the true power behind the Ministry.


    Harry turned his attention to another letter¡ªone from Nicolas Flamel.


    Dear Sir,


    I was delighted to receive your letter. It has been quite some time since I last saw you. On a side note, your handwriting remains as dreadful as ever.


    Albus has explained your situation to me in detail. Given my current schedule, I expect to receive you on August 16th.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Should there be any updates, please respond via owl¡ªI would be most pleased.


    Nicolas Flamel


    Letter to Harry Potter, 29 July 1992


    Harry glanced at the owl still perched nearby, then took out a quill and parchment, quickly scribbling a reply before sending the bird off again.


    When he turned back, he found Ron in the yard, tossing garden gnomes around for fun.


    The tiny creatures, which looked like ugly potatoes, squealed in protest as Ron grabbed one and hurled it through the air like a seasoned Chaser throwing a Quaffle.


    "Nice throw, Ron!" Harry called out. "Looks like you¡¯d make a great Chaser."


    "Oi, if you¡¯re done writing, get over here and help me!" Ron yelled back.


    No sooner had he spoken than his mother smacked him on the head.


    "Ron! Harry is a guest! How could you ask him to do chores with you?"


    Then, just as quickly, Mrs. Weasley¡¯s expression softened into a warm smile. "Oh, Harry dear, it¡¯s wonderful to have you here¡ªhappy birthday!"


    "Thank you, Aunt Molly," Harry said with a grin. He stepped forward and added, "I¡¯ll help Ron out¡ªit looks like there are way too many gnomes in the garden for him to handle alone. By the way, where are Fred and George?"


    "No idea where those troublemakers ran off to," Mrs. Weasley sighed, hands on her hips. "Honestly, I can never keep track of them¡­"


    Just then, a loud honk echoed from the sky.


    "FRED! GEORGE!"


    A furious roar erupted from the house.


    Harry turned his head and then quickly looked away, feeling a sense of unease.


    Terrifying¡­ Aunt Molly was terrifying¡­


    "Ha! They stole Dad¡¯s car and got caught," Ron said gleefully, watching from the sidelines.


    For once, Ron wasn¡¯t in trouble himself, so he could thoroughly enjoy the spectacle.


    Fortunately, Ron had been on his best behavior recently¡ªhis grades were good, and he had even earned Gryffindor fifty points at the end of the year. That was enough to spare him from his mother¡¯s wrath.


    After a round of scolding, Mrs. Weasley returned to the house to prepare dinner.


    The moment she left, Fred and George dropped their innocent expressions and immediately started horsing around again.


    "Oh, Harry!" Fred and George grinned as they flanked him. "We nearly forgot to show you our latest invention¡ªtry this candy."


    Harry took the piece of candy, eyeing it curiously. "What¡¯s this?"


    "We call it the Instant Skive Sweet," Fred whispered. "One bite, and you¡¯ll start bleeding from the nose¡ªdon¡¯t worry, it¡¯s fake blood, completely harmless. Think we could sell it at your cousin¡¯s school?"


    "Unfortunately, no," Harry sighed. "I sent my cousin some wizarding treats a few days ago and got a warning from the Ministry."


    "I can confirm that," Ron added. "One more offense, and Harry¡¯s off to Azkaban."


    "Oh, right, that¡¯s a rule," Fred shrugged.


    George threw an arm around Fred¡¯s shoulder and grinned. "No worries. We can still sell it to our classmates¡ª"


    "Just imagine," they said in unison, "a candy that costs just two Sickles but gets you out of Snape¡¯s Potions class¡­"


    "I''ll take them all."


    Ron said without hesitation. He rummaged through his pockets but only found a single Sickle and ten Knuts.


    "How about this¡ªsince this is your first business deal, why don¡¯t you give me a discount?" Ron asked tentatively.


    "Two Sickles." Fred and George spoke in unison, giving him no chance to bargain.


    "Come on, I''m your own brother!" Ron said indignantly. "Do you two only care about money?"


    "Well said, Ron, well said." The twins nodded in agreement. "Four Sickles."


    Harry nearly burst out laughing at the antics of the Weasley trio. It was clear as day¡ªFred and George were definitely Ron¡¯s brothers. No one else would tease their younger sibling this much.


    After some playful back-and-forth, Fred and George happily pocketed all of Ron¡¯s savings and handed him several pieces of Skiving Snackbox sweets.


    "You could help us sell them, little Ronniekins," George coaxed in a low voice by Ron''s ear. "We¡¯ll give you a cut of the profits. What do you say?"


    "Deal!" Ron agreed instantly, afraid that his brothers would take back their offer.


    "Settled, then." Fred and George said with satisfaction.


    The group hung around in the garden, casually tossing garden gnomes while chatting idly.


    They talked about everything¡ªfrom the Dursleys to the Weasleys¡ªuntil their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley calling them in for dinner.


    "I actually have another friend," Harry suddenly remembered Poppy, reaching into his wallet to let her out.


    The moment Poppy appeared, the entire room gasped.


    "Bloody hell, Harry," Fred and George said in unison. "You know, we always thought you were a true Gryffindor because of your strength¡ªbut now we¡¯re certain of it. You actually dared to bring a unicorn out of the Forbidden Forest!"


    "If it weren¡¯t for dinner, I might¡¯ve forgotten about Poppy entirely." Harry chuckled before turning to her. "Poppy, want to have dinner with us?"


    "I''m not hungry," Poppy said sheepishly. "I, uh... ate all the snacks you bought while I was in your wallet."


    "You can eat that much...?" Fred was stunned. "Blimey, I never knew unicorns ate human food."


    "Maybe I''m just special." Poppy nuzzled Harry''s shoulder. "Are you all heading to dinner?"


    "Yeah, though I suppose we won¡¯t need to set a place for you," Harry teased, reaching out to scratch Poppy''s neck. "Come on, I¡¯ll introduce you to Aunt Molly first..."


    "Alrighty!" Poppy said cheerfully.


    As they walked inside, Mrs. Weasley saw Harry leading what looked like a horse, but at first, she didn''t realize what she was looking at.


    Then, as she took a closer look, her eyes landed on the horn.


    "Is that... a unicorn?!" Mrs. Weasley asked in shock.


    Percy, who had been reading at the table, dropped his book with a loud thud.


    "Yeah, this is my friend, Poppy." Harry wrapped an arm around Poppy¡¯s neck as he introduced her to everyone.


    Poppy was sweet-tongued and had a knack for playing innocent. She called Mrs. Weasley "Aunt Molly" in the most affectionate voice possible, completely winning her over in an instant.


    Harry¡¯s eyelid twitched as he watched. You''re over a hundred years old, for Merlin''s sake...


    Once introductions were done, everyone sat down for dinner¡ªincluding Poppy, who, after some enthusiastic coaxing from Mrs. Weasley, stood beside Harry at the table.


    Just as they settled in, Mr. Weasley rushed in, looking slightly out of breath.


    "Looks like I made it back just in time," he said, setting down a large cream cake. "Here, this is for you, Harry¡ªhuh? A unicorn?"


    "Thank you, Uncle Arthur," Harry said quickly before gesturing to Poppy. "This is Poppy. She¡¯s my friend."


    "Hello, Uncle Arthur!" Poppy bobbed her head in greeting.


    "Well, hello to you too."


    Mr. Weasley returned the greeting, then walked to the table and set down the cake. When he noticed Fred and George looking particularly dejected, he chuckled.


    "And what¡¯s wrong with you two? Fred? George? Why the long faces?"


    "Oh, Arthur, don¡¯t get me started¡ªthose two took the car!"


    Mrs. Weasley¡¯s temper flared the moment the topic was brought up. "Just imagine¡ªa wizard buys an old, rusty Muggle car and tells his wife that he only wants to take it apart to study how it works. But in reality, he enchants it into a flying car¡ª"


    "Oh, don¡¯t worry, dear. There¡¯s actually a loophole in the law. As long as no one actually flies it, it''s not technically illegal," Mr. Weasley said nonchalantly.


    "But in reality! This afternoon! Your two sons were flying that very car!" Mrs. Weasley fumed.


    "Really?" Mr. Weasley''s face lit up with excitement. He turned to his sons eagerly. "How did it fly?"


    Mrs. Weasley slammed her hand against the table.


    "That was very, very wrong, children¡ª" Mr. Weasley quickly corrected himself.


    "Dad, why are you back so late?" Fred tried to change the subject. "Didn¡¯t you say the situation with the Muggles had been handled?"


    "Not quite," Mr. Weasley sighed. "It¡¯s getting more complicated. The Muggle Aurors say that a murder took place on a cruise ship traveling from London to New York. Every Muggle on board was killed. And according to something called ¡®security footage,¡¯ the culprit was a girl with black hair and red eyes."


    ---


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