CHAPTER 23: Halloween (Confrontations)

Dungeon Bathrooms

October 31st, 1991

8:00 p.m.

Hours passed and Harry kept himself locked inside the bathroom stall. His throat was sore from all the sobbing, his eyes had dried long ago, but the strain of it all still made him feel like a soulless husk. It was as if his very life-force had been drained. His muscles ached all over his body, the thought of even standing up was brought pain in it of itself.

Time had become meaningless. He had no idea how much time he had spent inside the bathroom. It could've been days, weeks - it certainly felt like that. He didn't think sleeping for a full day straight would even help with that.

He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to go back to the castle, face Montague, the other Slytherins. He had given up on telling himself Montague was lying - was keeping his cover. It didn't matter how much he had repeated that mantra, his brain had been unwilling to accept it. How could it? It was plain as day.

Montague wasn't his friend. He wasn't his brother. He didn't even care about him. Everything he'd told him, everything they went through. All those months. They were all a lie. He had lied to him. Told him he loved him, that he was his friend, that he would never leave him. And he betrayed him. Without a second thought. Without any remorse.

Harry wondered how Montague would act if he could see him now. Sprawled on the floor, bloodshot eyes, looking as if he was barely clinging on to life. Would he laugh? Would he taunt him? Would he enjoy it?

Of course, he would enjoy it. But he wouldn't laugh or mock him, he'd act concerned, act like his friend, tell him everything was going to be alright. That there were people out there - people like him - that cared about him.

Lies. All lies.

He would be laughing inside. Hating himself for not being able to do so on the outside - thirsting for the moment where he could finally reveal to Harry how much he had been playing him.

Harry wondered if he would either cry, shout, or vomit at that thought if he was still able to do either of them.

Slumping down to the floor once more, Harry closed his eyes. His gut twisted as his mind forced images of Montague to the forefront. The sick grin he had earlier today. All the times he would look at him when they were spending time together with what he now recognised as hidden resentment, rather than him zoning out as he had previously thought. All the small moments he had missed, the warnings to the imminent betrayal.

And then… he heard screaming.

It was far off, a whisper in the back of his mind. But it gradually grew louder, and louder. And before he knew it, the screams were accompanied by pulsing footsteps that seemed to almost move the ground.

Harry slowly rose, taking a second to gather himself before forcing himself to stand. Stealthily leaving the bathroom, he was met by a stampede of students, all rushing towards him. From first-years to seventh-years, every student wearing a Hufflepuff robe was rushing toward him in a slightly controlled frenzy.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, his voice rough and foreign to his ears.

But everyone ignored him. Rushing past him, all but running over him as they ran from some invisible threat. Harry gripped one of the students, a fourth year.

"What's going on?" He asked urgently.

"TROLL!" The boy shouted. "THERE'S A TROLL IN THE CASTLE!"

"Err… what?" Harry blinked.

But the boy didn't respond, instead shoving him out of the way as he ran straight for the Hufflepuff corridor. He stuck to the wall, letting everyone pass him, lest he be a victim of the mass panic that had kept growing.

"Yeah, I guess that tracks," Harry whispered helplessly. It had been that sort of day.

He tried to run, but his body wouldn't let him. Too drained for anything, Harry resigned himself to whatever fate came upon him as he walked towards the Slytherin Common Room. And as he made his way towards the other side of the dungeons, Harry couldn't help but think that the troll business had been a prank, fate taking the mickey out of him for a last time that day.

But just as he was reaching the Slytherin Common room, he heard a massive crash that seemed to have reverberated through the whole castle. Wherever it was, it must've been the troll's doing. Not wanting to wait outside for it to reach him, he finished making his way to the entrance.

"Samhain," he whispered to the giant, brass snake that was coiled around the portrait.

The snake nodded, untangling itself from the portrait and retreating inside the wall, revealing the man who guarded the Slytherin entrance. Jet black hair with a long face, the man wore simple yet elegant royal violet robes and had a violent red tattoo of a vertical line and circle enclosed by a triangle etched into his neck. The portrait didn't say anything, it never did, usually just opening after the snake uncoiled itself. But this time, it watched him intently for a second before letting him inside.

The whole common room, packed with what looked to be every single Slytherin in the school, turned towards him the moment he stepped through. Given the following sneers and eye-rolls, they weren't expecting him. They probably hadn't even realised he hadn't been with them. He wasn't Snape, so he wasn't worth their time. Hell, he was sure they thought it generous of them to even grace him with a sneer.

All of them did that.

All of them except one.

"Harry," Montague hissed as he rushed towards him. Concern and relief etched in his face, but Harry ignored that as he focused on his eyes. Blank. Empty. Cold and calculating.

He lies to you. A voice in his mind whispered

"Where have you been? I've been looking over for you all afternoon!" He knelt in front of him and studied him carefully

He hates on you.

"You missed the Halloween feast! I asked around about you and no one saw you after charms."

He's using you.

"I was getting so worried about you."

Betraying you.

"And when Quirrell warned us about the troll - I don't know what I would've done if it had hurt you."

Tormenting you.

Montague pulled him into a hug, and Harry immediately stiffened.

He lies to you. He hates on you. He's using you. Betraying you. Tormenting you… HE'S DEAD TO YOU.

Harry pushed Montague away, and before the older boy could grasp what was going on, Harry mustered all his remaining strength and swung at him. The blow hit him square in the jaw. But Montague was taller than him, stronger than him, and it seemed as if his punch had had the same effect as a paper aeroplane gently crashing against him.

Montague blinked. And Harry could now see it all. The anger. The indignation that someone with blood and heritage as filthy and pathetic as his would dare to touch him. But Montague didn't shout, didn't try to hit back, or go for his wand. Instead, he looked at him as if he were the one who had betrayed him.

"What the hell was that? What has gotten into you?"

The whole room's attention was once again on him, he could even see that some of Montague's friends were even palming their wands under their robes. But Harry didn't care, his lip quivering with rage as he stared at Montague.

Traitor.

He jumped on him, growling like a feral animal and managing to knock the older boy - who had been too shocked to react - to the ground, hitting it roughly.

"How dare you!?" Harry screamed, his voice cracking from his pure anger as tears once again welled up in his eyes. He began swinging at him again, taking advantage of being on top of him. "You were supposed to be my friend! You were supposed to never leave me! How could you do that to me!?"

A pair of arms grabbed him from behind before yanking him up and away from the flabbergasted boy.

"I TRUSTED YOU!" He cried out, not caring about the scene he was making. "I TRUSTED YOU AND YOU WERE ACTING ALL THIS TIME!"

"Enough!" Dennis Moody, the prefect who had pulled him away from Montague, snapped. "Potter, five points from Slytherin for attacking a fellow student."

"But-"

"Go to your dormitory, now!"

"But he-"

"Don't make me call, Professor Snape." He warned coldly.

Harry opened his mouth but didn't say anything. Everyone knew about Snape's hatred for him. The only Slytherin to have ever been his student whom Snape actively hated, took points away from, and treated him worse than any other Gryffindor.

He turned towards Montague, who was looking at him as if he were an entirely different person. Betrayal and shame clear on his face. But Harry knew better now. He glared at him, trying to put as much of his hatred into a single look. But no look would ever be able to define just how much he hated Graham Montague.

"Potter!"

"Fine," Harry sneered. It dawned on him this was the first time he had actually sneered, something he had promised himself to never do after seeing every Slytherin do it. And he couldn't care less. He adjusted the strap of his book bag before heading towards the stairs that led to the boy's dormitories. Hitting every Slytherin he could along the way.

Later…

Harry yelped before he realised he was awake. His eyes shot open, but a sudden pain in his back hit him before he knew what was going on. The first thing he was aware of was the set of cold, green eyes staring at him with unadulterated rage, the arm on his neck pinning him to the wall, and the hand covering his mouth. Behind his attacker, there were three other third-years who Harry immediately recognised.

Cassius Warrington. Adrian Pucey. Benjamin Rowle.

"Good evening, Harry," Montague said with a disturbing calm. "Sorry to wake you, but we need to talk."

Suddenly, the older boy lunged forward with his head, hitting him straight in the nose and making him yell in pain. He clutched it, vaguely aware he wasn't pinned against the wall anymore. His head was throbbing, and his nose lit up with pain, and Harry could feel a bit of blood drip from it and into his hand.

In a moment, his legs were pulled, each seized by a pair of strong arms. He crashed into the floor, his head hitting the floor so hard, everything went blurry. He began trashing around, moving his legs, his arms, anything he could to make it harder for them.

"Let me go!" He shouted as he tried kicking his attackers, but their grip on him made it impossible. "Help!"

But no one helped. No one even opened the curtains to their beds to see what was going on. And Harry couldn't help but think, even if they did know, even if they saw what was happening in front of him, they would shrug and go back to their slumber.

"HEl-"

A sharp kick to his jaw shut him up, his pleas for help turned into pitiful whimpers as blood started dripping from his mouth.

"Oooh, I got one of his teeth! Look! Look!" Warrington laughed, pointing towards the ground, where Harry saw the white tooth that had been ripped out of his mouth by the punt he had received. Harry felt his teeth, feeling the vacant spot where that tooth used to be. He hoped it wasn't a real one.

Pucey and Rowle joined Warrington in laughing, but Montague eyed them coldly. "You can laugh all you want in the common room."

"No," Harry breathed out, his voice sounding weird to his ears. He searched for anything to grip, to stop them from taking him out of the room. Eyeing Crabbe's bedpost, he latched on to it, holding on to it for dear life. "HELP!"

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Rowle said derisively. "Here, I'll scream with you: AHHHHH! SOMEBODY HELP!"

A cold feeling began creeping into his chest as the older boy descended into manic laughter. They didn't care he was shouting, pleading from help. They were relishing on it. Enjoying his cries for help because they knew no one would come. Had they charmed the others so that they wouldn't hear him? Or did all of them know what was happening and just didn't care?

It didn't matter, the result was still the same.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Montague walked over to him, looking at him like a disappointed parent. "Why are you so insistent on wasting my time?"

Slowly, Montague stepped on his hand.

"AHHHH!" Harry cried out, not relenting with his grip. But Montague gradually placed more and more pressure before exhaling and stamping down on his hand. A deafening crack echoed across the dormitory and, by instinct, Harry removed his grip and held his hand with his other one. Two of his fingers were cracked, bent in ways that the mere sight gave him pain.

He was left a sobbing mess. Pain coming from what felt like every part of his body, as all of his attempts at resistance turned out to be futile. The group of Slytherins continued dragging him outside the dormitory, and the last thing Harry watched before he was fully pulled out of the room was his wand half dangling from the top of his nightstand, almost mockingly.

"Aaand up we go!" Pucey exclaimed with glee as they began rising the stairs towards the common room. Harry felt every step, having to cover his head to avoid any more blows. The edge of every step jamming into his back - his neck, and all the others did was just laugh.

Harry allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief when they finally reached the common room. Thankfully, the first-year dormitories were only a floor below the common room, so the trek up the stairs hadn't been long. Harry eyed the prefect hallway that connected the staircases for the boys and girls. They were the only people besides them in this floor… perhaps they could listen to him.

"HELP!"

A strong kick to his stomach took the air out of him. He began coughing, half-gasping for air.

"No one can hear us," Montague said simply. "It's just us, nobody else. Don't waste your breath."

"Screw-" A coughing fit took over him, blood spiling out of his mouth as he tried to regain his composure. "Screw you."

"Stubborn, just like your filthy miserable parents." Harry attempted to snarl at that, earning another kick to the head. "You'll end up just like them. Boys! Hoist him up!"

Warrington and Rowle picked him up from his armpits. The moment Harry's feet were solid on the ground, he elbowed Warrington harshly, making the boy double over in pain, before stepping on Rowle's foot. He managed to free himself from the boys' grasp and eyed the portrait. He had always been able to outrun Dudley and his gang, if he managed to escape the common room and go for a teacher - he might make it out.

But before he could react, a quick jab struck him in the face. Harry staggered sideways, almost falling to the ground as he ignored the vertigo that came with the blow. Immediately, he dashed towards the exit, forcing himself to push through the pain as he ran past Pucey. None of the other boys were fast enough to catch him, and just as Harry was about to reach the portrait, he let out a desperate laugh.

"LOCOMOTOR WIBBLY!"

Suddenly, Harry's legs felt numb - as if the bones inside them had suddenly vanished. He crashed onto the ground, the portrait only a few meters in front of him. In a second, the effect of the jinx had passed and Harry began rising to his feet again.

"CATENA LAQUARIA!"

A silver rope latched itself onto his wrist, encircling it before turning into a large, metal shackle. Suddenly, a chain burst from it upwards, latching itself with a grappling hook - pulling his hand upwards to the point where he was forced to stand on his toes. Harry groaned as he struggled with it, trying to pull it out of the ceiling with all his might but getting nowhere. Montague repeated the same curse, managing to catch his free hand and confine it as well.

"Ah," Harry breathed out. The tight shackled felt as if they were strangling his hand, cutting off any blood that used to flow to them. It only got worse when he didn't manage to catch himself and lost his footing. His whole body dangled from the chains as he urgently struggled to recover his standing.

"Was that so hard?" Montague rolled his eyes as he walked towards him.

"Bloody prick is fast," Pucey said, but was ignored by the rest.

Montague tilted his head as he studied him, before throwing a jab at his head. The fist struck him roughly, leaving a burning pain in its wake.

"You embarrassed me earlier today." The boy said as he soothed his hand with a small towel he pulled out of his cloak. "Much more than that, you destroyed a plan which I have been working for months now. Ever since I found out that Harry Potter, the last remaining son of the Great Lily and James Potter, was coming to Hogwarts."

"You're sick," Harry said before spitting at him.

Montague stared at him, his calm demeanour betrayed by those eyes filled with cold, unrelenting rage. Slowly, he pulled the towel up to his face and wiped off the blood and spit, never once taking his eyes from him.

"You took my perfect revenge from me. So now, I'm going to make sure this is the best night of my life as I do to you what I've been wanting for months now. All those times I had to sit around listening to you bitch about how pitiful your life is, how you miss your poor, benevolent parents who got themselves killed after the Dark Lord had already perished. Now, I get my reward." He struck him again. "Now, you pay for your family's crimes."

"My family's crimes?" Harry asked in outrage. "My parents were heroes!"

"Your parents were filthy murderers!" Montague roared. He began hitting him uncontrollably. Launching tireless jabs at his face and body, treating him like a punching bag as Harry groaned out in pain. Suddenly, he grabbed him by the jaw. "Hypocrites. Killers and torturers just like any other Death Eater they apparently hated. Except, their name didn't get dragged through the mud, their fortunes seizes, and their estates destroyed. They were venerated as heroes, martyrs, victims."

"That's a lie!"

The older boy scoffed and walked towards one of the couches, removing his Slytherins cloak. "Do you want to know what your blessed parents did?" He asked coldly as he began to undress, leaving only the simplest version of the uniform. The white shirt with black pants and green tie. "Your father was such a renowned Auror, he and his friend Black." Montague sneered at that. "They raided our estate. Anti-apparition and anti-floo jinxes were placed all around the grounds, there was no way for us to escape. And before we knew it, they began attacking our home, destroying it as they launched curses and hexes to it before even knocking on the door. We had no choice, we were forced to use our vanishing cabinet to escape. But mother was insistent that Elijah and I were first. We crossed over to our uncle Joshua's house - he lived across the country, you see - and waited for them. We waited and waited… but they never came through."

Montague gulped, staring at the ground in rage, before pulling out a large blade from his discarded cloak. Harry's eyes bulged out of their sockets the moment he saw the knife. He began frantically pulling at his chains, trying to free himself as the third-year Slytherin walked towards him. The other three boys ooohed and aaahed as they watched from the background, none of them displaying any signs of remorse or even the slightest hint of discomfort.

"Your father had led the strike team that arrested them." Montague continued in a hollow voice. "The Death Eater laws had been put in effect only weeks ago. Do you know what they are? The Death Eater laws? They were laws that allow Aurors and Hit Wizards to treat the captured Death Eaters as less than human. There was nothing they couldn't do, no curse too vile, no interrogation tactic too cruel. Even the Unforgivables were allowed, and believe me when I say that is something."

He began to slowly walk towards Harry, only making his frantic attempts more violent.

"They tortured my parents for days, almost a week. The things they did to them-" His voice broke. "They didn't last a month in Azkaban after everything your father and mother had put them through. And yet, they never got sent to Azkaban for it, or even arrested. Instead, they were given medals. Order of Merlin: Third Class to both of them. A reward for murder and torture - for leaving us orphaned, in the care of our uncle, as the Ministry took everything my family had and appropriated it. Damages for the wars, they had said. And all because of your parents."

"You're lying!" Harry yelled, ignoring the tears that were dripping from his eyes.

Montague walked until he was right in front of him, just a bit out of range for Harry to hit him as he struggled with his bonds.

"I wish I was." His voice came out broken as his eyes glistened. "Boys, help Harry here out of his clothes."

"NO!" Harry shouted as the three boys came towards him, wands out. He moved like an animal out of control, determined not to let him touch him. But that didn't matter. The other boys slashed their wands, cutting Harry's pyjamas off him without having to come near, leaving cuts all over his shoulders and chest.

"AHHHHHH!"

They continued until he was left with nothing on except his underwear and socks. The cuts all over his torso flared in agony, and after everything else they'd done to him, Harry didn't know how much punishment he could handle before fully breaking.

"It's not those cuts you should be worried about," Montague said conversationally, before pulling up his knife so that it was at his eye level. "It's the ones I do with this that you should be afraid of. You have no idea of how much dark magic is imbued into this knife, how many people it has killed. Any scar from it will be permanent, unhealable even by the most miraculous means of magic."

"Why are you doing this!?" He cried out, hating how it sounded like a sob.

Montague stared at him, his face still as impassive as it had been all night. "In Roman times, a criminal was branded to identify his crimes to his fellow members of society. And to be a permanent reminder of the horrors they had brought upon the world. Your family destroyed mine, and now you're gonna pay for their sins." He began circling, walking towards his back.

"NO! NO! PLEASE! DON'T!"

"Boys, hold him in place."

"NO! PLEASE! YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS! I'M SORRY! I'LL LEAVE YOU ALONE! I SWEAR"

Warrington and Rowle grabbed both of his arms, while Pucey bound his legs together with a rope before attaching it to the ground.

"GRAHAM, PLEASE STOP! PLEASE, I'LL DO ANYTHING!"

"You will never forget what your family took from mine." He whispered.

"I'M SORRY! STOP, PLE- AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Montague slammed the knife into the left middle of his back harshly, bringing a world of pain Harry had never felt before. The beatings he had suffered from Vernon, the pans and pots that had managed to hit him, everything Dudley's gang had ever done to him. Nothing compared to the feeling of his skin being torn apart, his muscles damaged irrevocably, the knife grazing against his bones.

And then… Montague pulled the knife upwards.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" He began sobbing uncontrollably, the pain was too much. He tried to move, to shake himself violently, but the others held him with a force too strong to overpower. "PLEASE STOP- AHHHHH! PLEASE, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, PLEASEEEEEE! AHHHH!"

"Keep still, Harry," Montague's soft voice managed to get through his shouting. "Don't make this harder on yourself."

"AHHHHH! STOP PLEASEEE!"

But he didn't, he continued pulling the knife upwards until it had reached the topmost left corner of his back. But Montague didn't stop there, he continued. Slicing the knife diagonally downwards, much smaller than the previous one.

"AHHHHHHH! PLEAS-" His voice cut out, the strain on his throat too much. Neither of the boys showed any reaction to it, and while Harry kept crying, blood and tears dripping to the floor, leaving a pooled mess that made him want to vomit again.

Montague took his time, relished on every moment, even tracing back to the lines he had already carved on his back. He drew another upwards diagonal line before going straight downwards. Harry kept trying to scream, to find an outlet to relieve his pain, but nothing came out of his mouth. His body shook uncontrollably, and he felt more drained than he had previously had earlier that day.

The pain never subsided, it kept increasing, even in areas where Montague hadn't touched for a few minutes now. He could feel the blood dripping from his back, some getting inside his underwear, while the rest dropped to the floor.

Just as Harry was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Montague pulled out the knife harshly, not caring about the intense agony it brought him.

"Perfect," he whispered, tracing the carving in Harry's back, who recoiled away from his touch. His head was dangling, staring at the floor as he fought through fighting the pain. "Here, take a look at it." But Harry didn't respond, he didn't even move. He just wanted it to end. Wanted everything to end.

"I said look at it," Montague said roughly, grabbing Harry's face and forcing him to look behind where a mirror had been conjured. He immediately saw it, and couldn't stop the burning ache that had risen to his throat. In the upper-left side of his back, four large, bright red gashes marked Montague's work. A massive M branded on his skin, the angry tears of his skin clear for anybody to see from a mile away. "Justice," Montague almost hissed as he dropped Harry's head.

Harry shuddered with sobs as he dangled in the air. The others had dropped their grip on him, leaving him tied up, limp. He had tried to keep them in, to keep his blood curling cries of pain to himself, to not give him the satisfaction. But he hadn't been able to. It had been too much.

Please, please, just go. Please leave me alone. Please don't hurt me anymore.

But no words came out of his mouth.

"It will never heal." Montague said matter-of-factly. "In fact, it will continue tearing itself apart for the rest of your life. If you leave it be, it will only be a discomfort at best, but if you try to use dittany or anything, magical or muggle, to cure it, it will only make it come out stronger, and you'll be forced to feel the pain all over again. Personally, I'd recommend you try it." He said savagely.

"How much I wish I could continue," he continued wistfully, stroking his cheek. "To keep you here all night and make you properly pay for all the pain you've caused me." He paused, and for a moment, Harry feared that Montague's desires would surpass whatever was holding him back. "But, for now, this will have to do."

Suddenly, Harry was thrown to the ground, the chains that had kept him standing had suddenly vanished. He heard various footsteps walk away from him, and he closed his eyes, sobbing silently.

"Harry," the voice came from nearby - he hadn't moved at all. "If you ever embarrass me like that again. If you ever tell anyone about what happened here. If you ever even just look at me in a way I find… disrespectful. We'll have another session like this, okay?"

Harry groaned, but he didn't say anything - couldn't say anything. Then, Montague gently stepped on his two broken fingers, putting more force by the second.

"Are we clear?"

Unable to get any words out, Harry nodded uncontrollably as a small whine managed to squeeze out of his soul. And then, the pressure on his fingers was gone. Montague had stopped.

"I'm glad we see eye to eye on this issue," he said cheerfully. "I'll be seeing you around, okay."

Without waiting for him to answer, Montague began walking away, whistling a tune Harry didn't recognise. Once it was fully gone, a loud sob broke out of him, and he curled himself into a ball.

He didn't stop crying until the sun began to rise the following morning.

A/N 1: And that's it, the complete events of Halloween 1991. What started Harry upon the route he went through that led him to becoming the person he is in fifth year. This wasn't the only traumatic experience he had to deal with, and it wasn't even the worst. But we'll explore the others in flashbacks for years 2, 3, and 4. Hopefully, I delivered in what I promised, and it lived up to your standards.

Next chapter I can fully confirm will be the equivalent chapter to this, only in 1995.

Thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)

A/N 2: It came to my attention that there was a bit of confusion towards a line near the end of the previous chapter, so I will address it. No, Harry did not literally vomit his esophagus, stomach, and liver out, as that is simply… impossible. The line was a hyperbole, a rhetorical and literary technique that involves intentionally using exaggeration and overstatement for emphasis and effect. I used it to give a better painted picture of how long and violently Harry was vomiting, rather than just saying "Harry doubled over and vomited for a minute, feeling like shit."

However, I can understand why a subset of people took it literally, and I apologise for any confusion the use of that hyperbole may have brought. I will endeavour to make them more clear in the future.

A/N 3: I am ecstatic and honestly a bit shell-shocked that we have crossed 1,000 kudos in such a short amount of time and word count! Thank you so much for every person who has been kind enough to have kudosed this fic as they've read it, I appreciate it much more than I can put into words. Given the good fortune I have come across, I would like to share it with someone I feel deserves it much more than me.

Proton6 has been a good friend of mine for close to a year and a half now, one that I'm proud to call friend. However, even if he wasn't my friend, I'd still be of the opinion that his fic - Stars Glow, Shadows Fall - is extremely underrated in the fandom.

The fic is a series re-write exploring all seven years, and possibly more, with a focus on world-building that is so incredibly well done and heavily planned. He's redefining how magic works in the universe, the geography of magical Britain, international politics, and so much more. He's even created his own language! The fic also has developed characterisation for almost every character that graces the page, as well as character arcs and the such, which is something unfortunately rarely seen in fanfictions.

Most of the usual tropes are averted in his work and, from what he's revealed to me of his plans, he wants to portray every major event from canon as realistically and epic as possible. Including not holding punches with the magical war that will unfold in the latter half of his saga.

I'd heavily recommend you go and check out his work, as I do think it's going to be an incredible fanfic as it keeps unfolding. First-year is a bit close to canon as it's mostly used to define the world and characters that inhabit it, but as time goes by it will heavily diverge from canon. Please do me the favour of checking his fic out if you're interested in anything I've described above. Check it out, read it, give him some love. He's put in significant effort, and he deserves it.

Also, tell him I brought you there ;) I want bragging rights for that

But in all seriousness, check him out, you won't regret it. His fic won't be one heavy on the romance, but there will be pairings that, for now, are undecided as he's only starting 2nd year right now, and they won't start manifesting until around 4th or 5th year.

A/N 4: In some final news, I've decided to open my own discord server! Please, feel free to join using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT