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My one and only universe

Chapter 04: Wizard duels are strictly prohibited

"Your magical prowess is impressive... Mr. Majes."

Dumbledore sheathed his wand and adjusted his half-moon spectacles. Sighing, he cradled his lower back, the faint sound of old bones creaking filling the room. Amused, Harry watched his former professor; this friendly bout had been invigorating, a refreshing change from years of high-stakes magical conflicts.

"You know, Mr. Majes," Dumbledore began, stepping closer, "Experience has taught me that one's magic often reveals more about them than any conversation might." Reaching Harry, he gently placed a hand on the younger wizard's shoulder. "Your magic is both powerful and enigmatic, far beyond your years. I sense a hint of frustration, a dash of resentment, perhaps, in your spells. But I sense no malice, no propensity for harm towards the innocent. Am I mistaken, Mr. Majes?"

Harry was momentarily at a loss for words. Could Dumbledore have discerned all of that from a mere duel? He smiled faintly, understanding that he still had much to learn from the wise old wizard.

"No, Professor," Harry responded honestly, "you've got me all figured out."

A soft, sincere chuckle escaped Dumbledore. He took a few steps, expecting Harry to follow, but when he noticed the young wizard was still rooted in place, he turned back towards him.

"Shall we return to my office to discuss the rest?" Dumbledore suggested, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

Harry's face broke into a wide smile. "Does this mean...?"

Dumbledore, already pacing away, gave no verbal response. But Harry knew the old wizard well. If this Dumbledore was anything like the one he knew, his face would likely be adorned with a familiar, enigmatic smile.


Ginny woke early on the morning of August 31st, the day before the school year began. Stretching out sleep's stiffness, she slipped on a pair of slippers and headed downstairs, where her parents were probably already breaking their fast. Along the way, she gave their family cat, Moustache, a gentle stroke. The feline, adopted two years earlier, purred and meowed in a clear plea for more attention, but Ginny, accustomed to Moustache's whims, simply continued on her way. Slightly miffed, Moustache watched her vanish before scampering off in search of another affectionate soul.

Entering the living room, Ginny greeted her parents with a radiant smile. Her mother, Molly, busy at the stove, and her father, engrossed in the day's newspaper, returned her cheerful greeting.

"My, you're particularly chipper this morning," observed Molly.

Ginny hugged her mother before replying, "It's back-to-school tomorrow; I plan to make the most of my last day of holiday!"

Settling down at the table, she gratefully accepted the plate of fried eggs and bacon that her mother levitated towards her. An enchanted spoon, also under her mother's command, mischievously tapped her on the head.

"Have you finished all your holiday homework?" Molly inquired, the spoon resuming its taps.

Catching the pesky utensil, Ginny brought it down on the table with a huff. "Yes, yes, Mum," she sighed. Her attention then turned to her father, who had remained silent since she arrived. "What's caught your interest, Dad?"

Arthur Weasley was so engrossed in his reading that he failed to notice when his daughter spoke to him. It was only when the same spoon, for the second time, prodded his ear, that he broke away from the text to regard his family with a puzzled expression.

"What is it?" he asked.

His query prompted a round of laughter from the two women in the room, leaving Arthur glancing between them in confusion. Before he could receive any clarification, the arrival of Fred and George further muddled the atmosphere.

"Good morning, dad!" Fred cheerfully greeted, taking a seat at the table.

"And a fine morning to you, mum!" echoed George, who was striding past their mother. He grabbed a carton of milk and two bowls before joining his twin at the table, giving their little sister's shoulders a playful pat.

"Morning, sis!" they exclaimed in unison, launching into their breakfast and ignoring Ginny's tongue protrusion in response.

"Fred, George!" Arthur called to his sons, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "Are you planning to keep up this performance every morning?"

The twins exchanged a look of amusement.

"Don't fret, dad," George said in a tone of reassurance, pouring cereal into his bowl. "With Ginny heading off to Hogwarts soon, we'll be back to our separate flats. We've got plenty to handle, don't we, Fred?"

Their mother, whose attention had been piqued at the mention of their 'plenty to handle,' interjected.

"What exactly are you two planning?" Molly inquired, concern etched on her face as she sat at the table.

"Oh, just the usual!" Fred nonchalantly replied, a hint of mischief evident in his tone.

"Fred! You're already 23! And Arthur, are you going to let them get away with this?"

The Weasley patriarch, once again engrossed in his newspaper, realized it would be wiser to respond this time.

"Molly... They know what they're doing, and it seems their business is doing quite well..."

"You're actually defending them!" Molly retorted, her voice rising in mock anger.

"Well, as long as they're managing on their own..." Arthur murmured, sounding weary.

Molly conceded with a sigh while a chorus of "Thanks, dad" reverberated in the room.

Throughout the lively exchange, Ginny had observed with an amused expression. Turning her attention to her father, she voiced her concern.

"You seemed quite worried while reading the newspaper earlier?" she asked him, her eyebrows knitted together in mild worry.

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly and took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when he realized it had grown cold.

"It's nothing too critical. There was a magical storm in Northern England yesterday. I just thought it might give the ministry quite a bit of extra work, with all the muggles around..." He waved his wand over his cup, and steam began to rise from it once again. He sighed in relief as he took a sip of the now hot coffee.

"A magical storm? What's that?" Ginny inquired, picking up the newspaper and scanning for the related article.

The twins exchanged a look, as if the answer was evident.

"It's like a regular storm," George began, glancing at her.

"But with magic!" Fred finished.

Ginny rolled her eyes, deciding once more to ignore her brothers' sarcastic commentary.

"Alright, geniuses, but what causes it?" she pressed further, finally locating the article. The centerpiece of the write-up was an animated photograph of a large, black cloud looming over a plain, its edges marked with slow, blue lightning bolts that were clearly beyond normal electrical phenomena.

Her father then offered a more detailed explanation.

"It's a rare occurrence when there's an excessive concentration of magical energy in a single place. It's said that it would take hundreds of wizards working in unison to create one," he elaborated thoughtfully, then added after a pause, "They say the last magical storm happened during the duel between Grindelwald and Dumbledore..."

Ginny absorbed the information with keen interest. The article revealed that the cause behind the sudden storm was unknown. It also referenced a 1990 incident when wizard scientists successfully created a miniature magical storm in a lab. The phenomenon was reportedly harmless and was already dissipating, leaving the memory-wiping task to qualified wizards and the investigation to Aurors.

Ginny handed back the newspaper to her father, realizing that the remainder of the page was taken up by an advertisement for the latest items available in "Hot Cauldrons" shops.

At this moment, Ron made his entrance into the room, promptly earning applause from the twins.

"Can it be? Ronald Weasley awake before lunch? A miracle, wouldn't you say, George?" Fred addressed his brother, who was clapping just as enthusiastically.

"Or could it be the effect of the alarm clock we installed in his room last night?" George added, bursting into laughter.

Ron's face turned as red as a tomato.

"WAS THAT YOU?" he roared, pointing an accusing finger at the twins. "You'll pay for this!"

Seeing Ron draw his wand, the twins wasted no time and disappeared with the characteristic pop of apparition. Ron, seething with rage, took a seat at the table.

"They're driving me insane..."

"Welcome to the club," his mother replied, winking at him in commiseration.

Arthur, finding the situation amusing, suddenly remembered something and clapped his hands.

"Ron, it's a good thing you woke up early today! You and your sister can help me by de-gnoming the garden. I could use the assistance." he stated, under the scrutinizing gaze of his wife. He had always had a soft spot for the little gnomes and detested the task of driving them away.

Ginny and Ron groaned in response, but they both knew that the sooner they started, the sooner they'd finish. Their father hadn't asked much of them during the holidays, and Ginny was secretly excited about having some alone time with her brother before departing for school.

Rising from the table, the redheaded girl invited Ron to join her as soon as he was ready. She took a hot shower, fully aware that she was going to get dirty in the garden, and dressed in clothes she wouldn't mind leaving behind at the Burrow.

As she stepped outside, her gaze swept over the surrounding fields, and she breathed in the country air deeply. A soft breeze lifted her medium-length hair, setting it ablaze under the sun's rays. Her freckles, once a source of embarrassment when she was younger, had reappeared over the summer. Now, she wore them proudly. Over the years, they had faded away, only resurfacing on the sunniest days.

Six years had passed since her first year at Hogwarts, and with her final year looming, she wasn't sure how to feel. The school had become a second home, a surrogate family where her friends resided. This year was particularly significant: for the first time, she'd be at Hogwarts without her brothers. Though she often wished they weren't around when she was with her friends, their presence also provided a comforting sense of familiarity.

Ginny chuckled to herself at the thought, dismissing it as childish. At 17, it was high time she learned to stand on her own.

A gnome dashed by, jolting her back to reality. She chased after the tiny creature, which made a desperate attempt to dive into a hole. However, its bottom got stuck, and Ginny seized it with ease. As the gnome muttered unintelligibly and tried to bite her, Ginny quickly transferred it to her other arm before it could succeed. She spun the gnome above her head, gaining momentum, then hurled it over the fence. The gnome soared twenty meters before crashing into the tall grass.

Hearing a squeak behind her, Ginny turned around to find Ron watching her from the garden door.

"Not bad for a girl," he teased as he approached, a smirk of feigned superiority on his face. "I wouldn't want to face off against you in a muggle duel. Maybe you should have been a Beater instead of a Chaser in Quidditch!"

Ginny responded by sticking her tongue out at him. Realizing she had been resorting to this gesture quite often with her family and friends, she decided she'd have to abandon it if she wanted to be seen as more mature. Ron scooped up a gnome and hurled it into the distance. The creature flew a respectable distance but didn't reach as far as Ginny's throw.

"The embarrassment of being beaten by a girl!" Ginny shot back immediately, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

His pride bruised, Ron quickly found another gnome for their game. He spotted one half-concealed behind a clump of soil. His subsequent throw was notably more successful, matching, if not outdoing, his sister's previous toss.

"Hmm, hardly anything to boast about, really..." Ginny commented, a hint of disappointment lacing her voice.

Soon, both of them were breaking a sweat, and the task of de-gnoming the garden spanned the better part of the morning. Once the last gnome was launched, Ginny sank down beside a tree, leaning against its trunk to catch her breath. Ron sauntered over to her, swiping at his perspiring brow.

"It brings back memories, doesn't it? When we were children and we all did this together."

Ginny nodded in agreement.

"Yeah..." she paused before proceeding, "What are your plans for this year?"

Ron gave a nonchalant shrug.

"I might join Neville in studying the flora and fauna of the north... He is convinced he can make me share his love for plants. I'd love to see him try!"

Ginny laughed, thinking about Neville's surprising passion. He was one of Ron's closest friends, and she knew that despite his seemingly innocuous exterior, Neville was steadfastly loyal and valiant.

"Dad's been asking me to join him at the ministry," Ron continued. "I don't quite feel like working at the moment. A little time away could do me good."

Ginny didn't respond, instead choosing to watch the youngest of her brothers contemplatively. She had always shared a close bond with Ron, spending a significant amount of time with him during their years at Hogwarts. As if sensing her train of thought, Ron broached the subject.

"Do you think you'll manage at Hogwarts without me this year?" he asked, his voice laced with playful teasing.

Ginny restrained herself from sticking her tongue out at him.

"You seem to have forgotten who saved your skin last year when Bermatus's cauldron exploded!"

Ron groaned, the memory coming back to him vividly.

"That was sheer luck... And I still ended up with a tedious detention thanks to that blasted potions master!"

"Just imagine, I still have to tolerate him for another year..." Ginny grumbled, a grimace etching itself onto her face at the thought. Ron chortled at her reaction.

"By the way, are you still infatuated with that dolt Achewings?"

Ginny blushed faintly and averted her gaze.

"Scott? That's none of your concern!"

Sensing that he had hit a nerve, Ron covered his face with his hands and imitated a girl cooing in adoration.

"Ooooh my dear Scotty, you're so adorable! Ooooh! Ouch!"

He hadn't anticipated Ginny's swift punch to his shoulder. He massaged the sore spot with his free hand.

"You're rather humorless, girl, considering you should be used to it with your friend Jim..."

"With you and him, it's different..." she snapped back defensively.

Their banter was abruptly interrupted as Molly's head materialized in the window overlooking the garden, signaling that it was time for lunch.


Harry swallowed hard as he readied himself in his room, a bundle of nerves. Three days had passed since his tense encounter with Professor Dumbledore. Following their duel, both men had retreated to the headmaster's office where Harry was informed, in no uncertain terms, that he had been accepted as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Caught off guard, Harry had blinked at the headmaster, unable to process the simplicity of it all. Of course, if one could label a duel against one of the most powerful wizards in existence as 'simple.' The matter of his salary was broached almost immediately, but Harry deflected it deftly, claiming he'd only just arrived and hadn't yet had the chance to open a Gringotts account, but assured Dumbledore he would do so promptly. In turn, the headmaster informed him that he could move into his assigned living quarters within the castle in the coming days.

Two days later, he found himself welcomed back into the castle by none other than the deputy headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. After a brief introduction, she escorted him to the teachers' wing. Harry's new living quarters, nestled at the end of the corridor, were of a comfortable size, complete with a cosy living room, a generously spacious bathroom, and a bedroom. The green and silver hues that decorated the walls piqued his interest, to which McGonagall clarified that the choice of colors was the preference of his predecessor, but that he was, of course, free to redecorate as he wished.

Before her departure, McGonagall engaged him in a brief conversation. Her eyebrows furrowed at the youth of the new appointee, but she voiced her trust in Dumbledore's decision. She left Harry with the promise of his solitude until the following day, hinting that she may have something in store for him.

No sooner had McGonagall left than Harry set about transforming his new living space. With wide sweeps of his wand, he dispelled the Slytherin-green and silver tones, replacing them with warmer, more welcoming hues of purple. He spent the rest of the day wandering the familiar halls, chatting idly with a handful of portraits, and rediscovering the nooks and crannies of the castle he'd missed.

During his exploration, he chanced upon Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron. Both spectres greeted him cordially, evidently already aware of his new appointment. Harry's only regret was not having encountered Peeves yet, although he had a feeling that the mischievous poltergeist would not remain absent for long.

Upon his return to his quarters in the early evening, Harry found a small stack of books waiting on his table, accompanied by a note bearing McGonagall's concise message, "I thought this might help you."

A smile played on his lips as he browsed through the titles. Alongside the seven Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks that the students were required to purchase, there were a few additional, rather unconventional titles: How to Prepare Lessons Well, Understanding Your Students, Being a Teacher a Passion, and Knowing How to Make Yourself Heard. His former teacher's thoughtfulness touched him. Despite being a newcomer in this position, she had chosen to support him rather than maintain distance.

He devoted the better part of his evening to pouring over "How to Prepare Lessons Well," determined to adopt a number of insightful tips. His study was interrupted by the arrival of a house elf with a tray of food. Harry attempted to engage the elf in conversation, but it excused itself hastily and disappeared.

The last day of August arrived, one day prior to the departure of the Hogwarts Express, set to carry a new batch of students to the castle. As far as Harry had understood, the other teachers had arrived that morning, and he was to join them for lunch in the Great Hall.

Adjusting his collar and glasses, Harry shot a nervous glance at his reflection in the mirror, briefly revealing his signature lightning-shaped scar as he raked a hand through his hair.

"Pull yourself together," he muttered under his breath, "No one knows you here. No one will judge you for your past."

Taking a fortifying breath, he exited his apartment and headed towards the Great Hall. As he pushed open the imposing doors, nearly a dozen pairs of eyes swivelled to meet his. The professors were already assembled around the headmaster at the high table.

Professor Dumbledore locked eyes with Harry and nodded slightly, a gesture of encouragement. To Dumbledore's right, McGonagall was engaged in deep conversation with Professor Flitwick. Hagrid sat further down the table, offering Harry a friendly wave. He recognized Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor, and Madam Sprout, the Herbology teacher. At a distance, Filch and his cat Mrs. Norris observed him with characteristic malevolence.

A raise of Dumbledore's hand restored silence in the Hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "Allow me to introduce Harry Majes, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for the upcoming year."

Polite greetings and self-introductions ensued from the professors. A few comments were made about his age, but aside from Madam Sprout's attempt to learn more about him, no one seemed overly interested. The introductions were cut short by the entrance of an elderly man, slightly rotund and swathed in a nearly-bursting blue robe, who ambled towards them.

"Professor Bermatus, I present to you our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry Majes," Dumbledore announced as the man joined them at the table.

The headmaster's words were followed by a palpable silence, as Bermatus gave Harry an impassive once-over. The older man reeked of alcohol, and his swaying suggested he was far from sober. He hiccupped, muttered something incoherent, and settled at the far end of the table. Madam Sprout leaned towards Harry, whispering,

"He's the Potions Master. My advice to you would be to maintain your distance... I have no idea why Dumbledore keeps him around."

Harry nodded his understanding. Bermatus intrigued him for several reasons, the first being the absence of Severus Snape. Moreover, how could a man evidently suffering from alcoholism be entrusted with teaching?

"Professor Bermatus," McGonagall interjected calmly, "a more appropriate greeting to our new colleague would be appreciated."

Bermatus, however, seemed not to hear her, as he refilled his jug with a reddish liquid from his personal flask. McGonagall cast Harry an apologetic glance, which he returned with a reassuring smile.

The remainder of the meal proceeded without significant incident, and Harry was able to retire to his quarters after collecting his timetable. Classes were to start in two days, and he was scheduled to begin his teaching with the second-year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students.

He devoted the rest of the day to planning his first lessons, determined to excel in his new role as a teacher and not let himself down.

In the early evening, a knock on his door revealed Professor Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Professor Majes," he greeted Harry in his smooth, authoritative tone. "I hope I am not intruding. There is a matter of your first duty as a professor that I would like to discuss."


Platform 9 3/4 was brimming with activity as usual. Some students seemed to have arrived solo, but most were accompanied by their families. A young boy of no more than eleven clung to his mother's arm near the entrance, capturing Ginny's gaze with a touch of nostalgia. Surrounded by her brothers, she had never dreaded the journey to Hogwarts. Her eyes swept over the train she was about to board for the final time when her mother moved to her side and wrapped her in a tender embrace.

"Ready for the last ride, Gin?" her mother asked gently. "Remember, these are your golden years. Make the most of them."

Ginny offered a knowing smile. Parents always seemed to give the same advice; she was already planning to enjoy every moment.

Her father stepped forward next, handing her her suitcase while resting a hand on her shoulder. "Safe journey, make sure to write when you arrive safely."

Ginny rolled her eyes playfully, "Dad, I'm not a child anymore..."

Arthur Weasley didn't have a chance to respond as Jim called her from a distance. Ginny quickly pecked her parents on the cheek, grabbed her suitcase, and trotted towards her friend.

"Took you long enough," Jim mockingly grumbled. "Everyone's waiting for you upstairs."

Feigning shock, Ginny retorted, "I forgot how popular I am!"

With a chuckle, Jim grabbed her suitcase and gestured towards the carriage entrance. "Would her majesty kindly grace us with her presence?"

Playing along, Ginny stepped onto the train, offering Jim a small curtsy. As she navigated through the bustling corridor, students of all ages and houses were intermingling. A familiar voice drew her attention.

"Hi Ginny."

Spinning around a tad abruptly, Ginny accidentally nudged a first-year student standing next to her. "Hi Scott..."

Scott Achewings was a seventh-year student from Ravenclaw. He was notably tall and athletic, towering over Ginny by a head. His grin was warm and inviting, gesturing towards an open compartment. "Nice to see you. Drop by sometime this year."

Scott disappeared into the compartment before Ginny could reply, leaving her with Jim's elbow nudging her and a teasing wink.

Eventually, the pair reached their usual compartment where Jessica, the blonde, and Anny were immersed in deep conversation. At the back, by the window, Eliott was engrossed in a paperback novel. Ginny greeted her friends and took a seat next to Anny while Jim tried to pry Eliott from his book. Conversation soon shifted towards the impending school year, with major points of interest being the timetable and upcoming holidays.

The train's whistle signalled its imminent departure, and sure enough, the train jerked into motion a few minutes later. Eliott stood, pinning his Gryffindor prefect badge onto his robes.

"I need to check everything's in order. See you later."

He left the compartment to the amusement of his friends. The sole prefect of their group, Eliott had endured his fair share of light-hearted ribbing, especially given his dutiful approach to the role.

An hour later, the compartment was littered with an array of sweets.

"By the way," Jim began, "Do you think we'll get another new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"

The group had just splurged on bags of candy and chocolate. Jim shoved a chocolate frog into his mouth, contemplating the collector's card it came with before pocketing it.

"Probably," Jessica responded, eyeing a piece of candy with longing. "Considering the old woman fell into depression last year, I doubt she'll be back."

"Though we never really ascertained what exactly transpired," Ginny interjected, graciously accepting the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean Jim extended towards her. "An operation by the Malfoy clique, right?" She winced immediately as the bean made contact with her tongue.

"Speaking of which, at last, we can breathe easy, now that he's out of the picture!"

"Don't presume to speak for all of us, Anny," Jessica riposted, sitting beside her. "I bet his right-hand man, Tod Wormz, will perfectly fill his shoes!"

Almost as if on cue, a voice echoed down the corridor.

"That's enough, Wormz! Release him, now!"

"Speak of the devil..." Ginny rejoined, springing to her feet and flinging open the compartment door, the others hot on her heels.

In the corridor, Eliott stood, wand drawn and pointed at a slightly less bulky boy. That was no mean feat in itself. His adversary had electric blue eyes, with brown hair neatly slicked back, exposing his nape. His chest bore the Slytherin insignia, as did the two loyalists flanking him. Ginny positioned herself near Eliott and brandished her wand.

"What's the ruckus?" she questioned, her eyes locked on Wormz, determination writ large across her face.

Eliott couldn't help but admire his friend. In the face of danger, Ginny exhibited exceptional bravery. Her intimidating gaze and fiery red hair evoked the image of a lioness, poised to strike her quarry.

"Same old, same old. Wormz and his cronies harassing a first-year," Eliott clarified.

Ginny knew Eliott abhorred combat; he was one for peaceful resolutions. She respected her friend's pacifist leanings, but they proved ineffectual against Wormz.

The latter sniffed disdainfully.

"Always the grandiose speech..." Wormz's voice resounded clear and confident. "I'd prefer to say that I am instilling Slytherin virtues in the freshers."

His followers snickered. Most likely, "instilling Slytherin virtues" was a euphemism for something more sinister.

"To teach, Wormz, you should probably revisit your own first-year lessons!" Ginny retorted, striding forward. Jim positioned himself alongside the confident redhead, bolstering her, while Jessica and Anny joined Eliott.

"Ah, it's the little Weasley!" Wormz sneered, running his tongue over his lips. "So, little girl, without your brothers to shield you this year, how about trying a new beauty mask?"

Ginny's face turned a fiery red, and her hair bristled at her nape.

"Shut up, Wormz!"

His response was merely a satisfied, predatory grin. A fraction of a second later, he flourished his wand and a golden spark rocketed out. Ginny was not far behind, her own spell trailing by a hair's breadth. The two spells intersected mid-air and were on the brink of hitting their targets when a blue spark neutralized them.

Wormz's spell detonated before Ginny, hurtling her into the air. Her wand slipped from her hand as the wall rushed towards her at an alarming speed. Instinctively, she clenched her eyes shut, bracing for impact. Upon cracking her eyes open a moment later, she found herself sprawled on the floor, miraculously unscathed. Surveying her surroundings, she noted her friends had also been flung. Everyone was disoriented, attempting to piece together the events. Wormz and his goons were not far off, clumsily clambering to their feet. She looked up and instantly grasped the situation.

"Professor Bermatus...?" she uttered, both taken aback and embarrassed by his intervention.

The elderly professor was assisting Wormz to his feet, shooting a harsh glare at Ginny.

"You ought to know that wizard duels are strictly prohibited," he rebuked, pointing at Eliott who was somewhat distant. "And even more so for a prefect. Rest assured, I'll be reporting this incident to Professor McGonagall."

Bermatus gestured Wormz towards him.

"Revive your cronies, Wormz, and return to your compartment."

Wormz scanned the corridor, his grin betraying his satisfaction at the sight of the disheveled group on the floor. The grin disappeared as he noticed something missing. Ginny suddenly remembered her lost wand and turned to Jessica who indicated she, too, was wandless.

Bermatus, observing the scene, broke into a sly grin.

"With any luck, you'll recover your wands by tonight. Consult Professor Majes regarding that."

He then left them in their disarray, dragging Wormz and his lackeys along.


Harry sat in his compartment, fixated on the floor, his right hand unconsciously clenching and unclenching. He was trembling slightly, and a bead of sweat trickled down his neck. His gaze fell on the bench where eight wands lay. Unhesitatingly, he selected a long, black wand, twirling it in his fingers. Professor Dumbledore had tasked him with ensuring the safety of the Hogwarts Express in tandem with the potions master, citing past inter-house disputes.

The journey had been uneventful so far. That is, until he encountered Ginny and her group. When he saw the spell streaking towards Ginny, he nearly lost control. For an infinitesimal moment, he had forgotten that this was not his world, and that the Ginny before him was not the one he knew so intimately.. And that Slytherin... If he hadn't gathered his wits, he might have done something regrettable.


End of chapter 04.
As we step into the next chapter, the commencement of the school year awaits us.
Could it also mark the onset of unforeseen trials?

See you very soon for chapter 5 : A world at peace is not a world without danger