Prepping Hogwarts 101,
The Daily Prophet
GRINDELWALD'S FOILED! BRITAIN ENDURES!
In a daring operation yesterday, Aurors successfully raided a secret hideout belonging to the notorious Gellert Grindelwald's operatives, leading to the capture of his ruthless slavers. The surprise raid, orchestrated by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, exposed a dark web of kidnapping and exploitation that has plagued the British wizarding society for far too long.
The captured slavers, under questioning, shockingly confessed to their sinister motives. It is believed that their primary objective was to kidnap prominent members of the wizarding community to fuel Grindelwald's nefarious war effort. Their actions aimed to weaken the foundations of British wizarding society, striking fear and chaos into the hearts of its inhabitants.
Thanks to the unwavering dedication and expertise of the Aurors, several kidnapped individuals were rescued and are now safely reunited with their families. The Ministry of Magic has vowed to bring these criminals to justice and ensure that such heinous acts are eradicated from the magical realm.
It does raise questions about the invincibility of Grindelwald's forces if he has to stoop to such low measures to retain troop numbers. Anonymous sources have informed the Prophet of horrific casualties inflicted on the German Army during their foray into the Soviet Union. Some have even gone as far as to admit that the Russian campaign is far more than Grindelwald can swallow. For more ongoing details about the war consult page [4].
Regardless of the circumstances, our community breathes a sigh of relief and stands united against the dark forces threatening their way of life.
Harry nodded to himself in contentment. Everything worked out in the end.
The news was good. The government was happy. Slughorn was happy. Gloria was happy.
Above all, he was pardoned and free to move. Pangs of guilt struck him every now & then about Rupert's fate.
Harry shook himself out of melancholy, there were things he needed to do. The only path available was forward.
Aside from the pardon and Hogwarts entry, things had been going well for Harry. Slughorn had taken a more direct approach to Harry's circumstances.
The two of them had shared time going over Harry's career path and future. Slughorn had "generously" shared a portion of the ministry reward money with him. This allowed Harry to find accommodation to last long enough for his time at Hogwarts.
Slughorn had been aghast at hearing about Harry's choice for electives vis a vis his personal abilities. Slughorn had quickly moved to crush any thoughts of mediocrity that Harry might have and "encouraged" him to take more "juicy" electives if he wished to prevail.
(My boy, you can either waste the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of being born a mage or rise above yourself)
Apparently, others had a more positive opinion of his intellectual faculties than he did. Harry had reluctantly agreed to give his electives further consideration before submission.
Not all conversations had been benign. Slughorn had done his utmost to pry open Harry's past and reveal the truths. It had become a regular verbal duel between the two during teatime.
Jolly & paternal, Slughorn poked gaps in Harry's backstory, immaculate & polite, Harry tried coming up with spot answers to tackle Slughorn.
Slughorn highlighted contradictions in Harry's backstory, expressing concern about some particular wizard or village in Russia that he knew of. Harry in return, pretended to either not have met much of the Russian magic community or explored the country.
He was after all, under the guardianship of poacher parents who constantly had to evade law enforcement. Not exactly a family that organizes regular sightseeing trips to the city. In return, Harry had subtly fired back with his own knowledge of the underworld that linked with Russia.
There had been enough substance in his story to back up his claims, but careful scrutiny of a vigorous mind like that of Slughorn's could bring it all down.
Unfortunately, Harry's alleged Russian existence had bought up forgotten Russian memories in Slughorn.
Leaning back in his chair, Slughorn cleared his throat. "Harry, my boy, I've been doing a bit of reading lately. Fascinating tales about the Russian magical community. Any chance you visited Vladivostok? I believe they had the most fascinating honey cakes called Medoviks?"
Alarms and bells blared in Harry's mind. This was going to be another interrogation.
"I cannot say I have had the pleasure of either visiting Vladivostok or enjoying Medoviks."
Slughorn raised his eyebrows in faux horror, "Oh my! I had thought that was a rite of passage in your neck of the woods?"
A warning shot from Slughorn. Focus on all aspects of your story or be exposed!
Harry took a sip of his tea; he needed a cover fast.
"My parents were not welcomed in the decent society." Harry took another sip. "We moved around a lot and were mostly located in rural areas or the jungles."
"A pity, my dear boy. But you must never let this define you. At the end of the day, man's actions and character are his own." Slughorn replied.
"Should you wish, professor, I will be pleased to regale you with our findings in Lake Baikal."
His time spent with extremely dangerous creatures under Hagrid's tutelage will finally bear fruit now.
Other changes too had come through. He had headed Slughorn's cryptic warnings. He needed to embrace more of Harry Petrov and let Harry Potter go. As painful as it was, he needed to do it.
Harry had taken to practicing his metamorphic abilities. The first to go was his trademark Potter head of thick curly hair. In their place now stood silky smooth hair that curled up backward.
A leaner nose now graced his face with appropriate adjustments to his cheekbones. If he was going to claim lineage to a pureblood family, he might as well try to look like one.
Sadly, he was unable to get rid of his scar. Neither metamorph nor magic made that cheeky bugger move, hide, or transform. Harry frowned as he chalked this up to his regular weirdness factor.
He observed his features once more. If any of his old friends looked at him hard enough, they might have confused him for a distant relative of Harry Potter.
Further changes were required.
A pair of blue eyes met his gaze back.
It was done.
His mind turned back to Slughorn as he struggled to keep up with the man's gregariousness.
And the game continued. Slughorn poked holes in Harry's story to cover up and educate him on the etiquette required of a young wizard in civilization.
Dear Mr. Petrov,
I am pleased to inform you that your transfer request to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been accepted. On behalf of the staff and administration, I extend to you a warm welcome to our esteemed institution.
Your letter of recommendation from Professor Slughorn has caught the attention of our faculty members. Professor Slughorn's unique perspective on your abilities and potential has influenced our decision to forgo the customary entry tests that gauge the skill level of incoming students. Rest assured that his insightful recommendations have served to confirm your qualifications for admission, allowing us to proceed with your enrollment without delay.
Your term will commence on the 1st of September.
Furthermore, as you will be entering your fourth year at Hogwarts, it is important for you to select your preferred electives. We have availability in the following courses:
Ancient Runes
Care of Magical Creatures
Divination
Arithmancy
Alchemy
Please inform us of your chosen electives at your earliest convenience, as we must finalize your schedule and make the necessary arrangements.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Deputy Headmaster
The letter had finally arrived. True to his word, Slughorn had made his transition seamless.
It still left with holes in mind. For once, he could not recall the old grandfatherly headmaster speaking to him with such sass. It would seem that not being the boy who lived in this timeline would grant him 0 free rides.
The whole "Deputy" headmaster business too
Harry grumbled under his breath; it would seem Dumbledore now regarded him as Slughorn's creature.
(The headmaster, Armando Dippit, bless his soul is already getting on with his years. Many of the professors eye his seat….)
Merlin only knows what turf war he has gotten himself involved in now.
Hopefully, it will involve a lot less killing and torture curses thrown at him.
Diagon Alley
The Alley was noisy. No two ways about it.
It was maxed out too.
The recent news of Grindelwald's agents being captured had made the world seem like a safer place.
As such, commerce roared to life today. It was a stark contrast to the situations outside in Muggle Britain.
Street hawkers clucked at the top of their lungs. Children played around conjured fireworks and the more opportunist amongst them tugged at their parent's clothes for a new toy.
Restaurants and cafes were revolving doors for customers.
It also sent a subtle message to German sympathizers: We are here! Free, rich, brave, and bold.
Do something about it.
Unfortunately, that meant Harry and his future schoolmates had to perform complex acrobatic feats to navigate through the crowds.
Ollivanders
A sign greeted him, and a relieved sigh left him.
It was good that there were some things that were constant across any reality. As odd as it sounded, they acted like anchors for Harry.
An old familiar lighthouse comforting a sailor as he ventured forth in uncharted waters.
Harry entered the establishment and was assaulted by a torrent of sensations & visuals.
Towers of wand boxes precariously reached up to the roof, forming pillars of their own. Occasionally, boxes would shoot off into random parts of the shop on their master's bidding. In its place, another box from the top would rapidly descend to fix the gap & restore the towers' balance. The constant flux of boxes left an ethereal dust of blue and green that gleamed in the sunlight.
The air was filled with the scent of old wood, polish, & excess magic.
Um, hello," Harry stammered, momentarily taken aback. "I was hoping to purchase a new wand. My... my last one was lost during a scuffle."
Ollivander nodded knowingly, his gaze never faltering. He exuded an air of profound wisdom, akin to someone who had unraveled the enigmas of countless wands. "Indeed," he replied, his voice carrying skepticism at Harry's explanation.
With a graceful wave of his wand, Ollivander summoned a swarm of measuring tapes that sprang to life, swirling around Harry like jellyfish. The enchanted ribbons wasted no time, wrapping themselves around his limbs, taking precise measurements as if seeking a hidden truth.
"It occurs to me," Ollivander spoke, his voice loud enough, "that we have not met before. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of knowing your name."
Harry straightened his posture, summoning his courage. "Harry Petrov, sir," he answered, his voice laced with nervous anticipation.
"Curious, Mr. Petrov. I recall every wand that I have ever sold. And I assure you that I have sold wand to every first year that has embarked on their Hogwarts journey." Ollivander said
He straightened his back and demanded, "Who are you?"
Had he not been exposed to parrying sessions with Rupert & Slughorn early on, Harry might have folded. Not this time.
"Harry Petrov sir. Transfer student from Russia, previously home-schooled. I am enrolled as a fourth-year student."
Upon hearing his origins, Ollivander sprang into action.
"Ah, Russia! That explains it all," he declared as if a puzzle had been unraveled. "Gregorovitch and his ilk, their wand-making abilities were always lackluster, never able to withstand the true tests of magic. No wonder your wand met its untimely demise."
The measuring tapes completed their task, releasing Harry from their grasp, and delivering a long paper with complicated mathematics marked on them. Ollivander knowingly nodded as if he already knew what the outcome would be.
Wand after wand, Harry tested them all, each unleashing its own unique brand of chaos. The chaos seemed to fuel Ollivander's sugar rush as he buzzed around the shop trying to find him the perfect match.
Some wands produced magnificent fireworks, illuminating the shop with bursts of color, while others had a knack for inadvertently breaking objects within their vicinity.
At long last, Ollivander, now pensive again, presented him with a wand.
As soon as Harry grabbed it, he felt a halo of emotions.
A rising sun ushering in new life.
A mage finds his precious stuff after long last, feeling his strength return to him.
An old friend grabbed his hand.
Finally
Ollivander merely observed Harry, not commenting as the golden halo of light around him faded away.
"Holly. 11 inches." Ollivander narrated.
"With phoenix feather core," Harry said.
Ollivander now looked at him with shock.
"I-it was a wild guess." Harry stammered out. Ollivander was not convinced.
"I hadn't expected this wand to be sold soon after the last one. You see the core and the wood made for this other wand were quite similar." Ollivander drowned on.
Harry felt his heartbeat fasten, memories of another such speech clawed at his mind.
No No No he can't be here. I can't be with him. Voldemort shouldn't be here.
"In fact, I sold the wand recently to a, by all accounts I hear, a remarkably talented witch. Perhaps you will get to meet her during your time at Hogwarts?" Ollivander muttered on.
Harry numbly nodded as he pretended to listen.
Wait.
Did he say her?!
A jubilant feeling once again erupted inside Harry. Lord Voldemort. The one whom his wand was twins with, no longer existed.
Harry threw his coins at the old man and sprinted out of the shop.
The rest of the shopping didn't annoy him anymore.
His gusto now matched that of the revelers outside. Unfortunately, his gold pouch would not appreciate the intense weight loss it was about to witness as Harry went on a shopping binge.
Lord Voldemort was dead. The world did justice for once. The world was good.
The train station was silent.
Harry sat down at the train station. Finding the platform 9 and 3 quarters was simpler this time.
He didn't have Hedwig with him, so the Muggles had been a lot less amused at the young man pushing such archaic containers around.
Harry clenched his jaw as he thought about what would've become of his faithful companion. Would she be alive? Would she curse her owner for leaving her behind to face the Muggles?
Or did the muggles simply put her out of her misery? Did she fly alone over the wreckage of the castle searching for him?
The memories came unbidden, and he was powerless to stop them. He wasn't sure he wanted to stop them if he could.
The train sat nearly empty; it would be some time before its departure.
He spied out of the corner of his eye as he saw a large family of redheads appear before the train entry. They were mute but Harry could feel the frustration of the family matriarch as she tried to do a head count of her brood and get them onboard. Missing the train for her was simply not an option. He saw her posture soften and eyes became moist as the very last of her kin boarded the train. She waved frantically to anyone of her own that she could spot.
Traitor. Coward. Rat An angrily crying Rupert spat at him, his limbs tied around him.
A piercing sound of steam being let loose broke him from his reverie.
The train station was bustling with activity.
A crowd of hundreds thronged the station.
Weepy parents hugged annoyed children eager to be let go lest their friends see them in this state.
Many turned to stare at him wondering why a young man would sit in such contemplation when a train was due to depart.
He caught the eyes of a tall family of three staring at him. They embarrassedly turned away when their gaze met.
Thankfully, none bothered him.
Harry finally got up and boarded the train.
Most of his journey was silent.
There was a multitude of voices and a heavy trolley moving.
He ignored them all. He was in no mood to partake in sweets & juice.
A voice called out to him, but he ignored it. The lunch lady will take the hint. I'm sure of it.
The view outside was different than he remembered. This time, there was a lot greener in the area around him. The temperature too was a bit cooler & cloudier. Clearly, the muggle industries hadn't yet made their mark as significantly as they did in his time.
The voice called out to him again, and this time Harry tried to focus.
"Not fond of lunch ladies, are you?" Harry hears the voice say.
He turned towards its source and found himself looking back at him. The other him mildly tilted his head in amusement at him and said,
"Or are you just not fond of human company?"
Harry's mind scrambled to find a reply. Was this another hallucination of his mind? Did the train's motions put him in some kind of trance?
"I -uh didn't feel hungry. And I was uh thinking?" Harry managed to stammer out in time before they admitted him to a mental facility.
"Boy that must be some deep thinking. What were you thinking about if I may ask?" The young man said.
Harry merely blinked owlishly at him.
"Can the seventh & eighth celestial spheres be aligned perfectly for best Chinese chomping cabbage growth? Does moonlight work better than sunlight for letting beauty potions marinate?"
The wizard was now being just plain mean. Mirth danced all over his face.
"Uhh… nothing that complex. The view and all is fascinating."
The wizard merely raised an eyebrow at him.
Lie better His instincts yelled at him.
"I have never been on the Hogwarts Express before you see. I am a new student." Harry managed to say.
This looked like it made the wizard relent and he narrowed his eyes to Harry.
"Hmm… I did know there was something off with you. Your robes bore no house crest and you are far too young to be a first-year." He spoke.
"Right," Harry said.
"Right indeed, young man. I mistook you for a squatter from the outside. Riding the bus in the vain hope of stealing our young maidens from us." The wizard said in faux seriousness waving an accusatory finger at him.
"And in I strode like a knight to challenge you for our maiden's honor."
"W-what?" was all Harry could muster as the other wizard broke out in laughter.
When he had regained his composure, Harry asked him with annoyance,
"Who are you again?"
"Ah, introductions first! How rude of me." The wizard replied and suddenly stood and made a polite bow to him.
"Mr. Charlus Potter the first. From the noblest house of Potter. Inventor of Potter hair products & other gentlemanly appliances. Also, a prefect."
Harry's mind blanked out.
Potter.
Whatever Charlus was saying had been tuned out. Harry felt a pinch on his arm and glared at the now annoyed Charlus staring at him, holstering his wand.
He let out a sigh and began again.
"You are not very good at this," Charlus stated in an annoyed voice.
"You got a name kid?"
"Harry. Harry Petrov."
"Yeah, sure whatever. I was asked to deliver this. It's from Slughorn." Charlus said as he pulled out a letter and handed it to him. He promptly left the compartment without saying goodbye.
A wonderful way to make the first impression on your ancestor Harry.
The Slug Club was real.
By Merlin it was real. Harry had assumed it to be a jest on the elderly man's part when he had mentioned it to Harry.
The missive he had received proved its existence.
Harry wondered what had possessed the man to name his social club so awfully.
Slugs. Harry shuddered as he felt Ron puking near him once again.
Harry hurriedly adjusted his disheveled appearance, his hands trembling with nervous energy. The nervousness had triggered his abilities as he hurriedly tried to make his long hair look presentable.
He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart, as he made his way to the teacher's compartment where the Slug Club gathering was taking place.
The invitation had both excited and terrified him, as he knew little about mingling with the best and brightest of Hogwarts. He was excited at finding out who the best were in this year. The fear of being exposed as a fraud and his imposter syndrome threatened to overwhelm his excitement.
As Harry entered the compartment, the polite conversations that filled the air fell silent.
All eyes turned towards him, including Professor Slughorn's, who noticed his arrival and raised his glass in a welcoming gesture.
"Ah, Harry Petrov, ladies and gentlemen!" Slughorn announced, his voice carrying through the room. "Our esteemed transfer student from Russia. Let's give him a warm welcome!"
Harry offered a nervous smile as the conversations resumed, albeit with a certain curiosity directed his way. Slughorn approached him, his jovial demeanor putting Harry slightly at ease.
"Harry, my boy, let me introduce you to some of our esteemed guests," Slughorn said, leading him toward a distinguished figure. "This is Abraxas Malfoy, a head boy, and a promising young talent."
Harry's heart skipped a beat as memories of another pale head from his world flashed before his mind's eye.
A scornfully spat-out Potter echoed in his mind.
He composed himself, extending his hand to Abraxas for a polite exchange. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," he managed to say, his voice laced with a touch of unease.
He could see the slight appreciation in Abraxas's eyes at the respect freely given. Harry had messed up this once, he had no intention of being on the receiving end of another Malfoy.
Abraxas looked him over with a discerning gaze. "Petrov, you say? A good lineage..."
Harry nodded carefully as Abraxas's trailed off.
"My mother was from London. My father was Muscovite."
My mother was a muggle-born. My father was pureblooded. Half-truth. Half lie. Just perfect.
Harry raised his identity flag, waiting for Malfoy's response. Malfoys pressed his lips, clearly annoyed at the revelation but quickly put it away.
Things happen I suppose. Hopefully, the sorting hat will place someone of your 'pure' stock in capable hands, redemption is everyone's right." he remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
You have a chance to fix it. Don't fuck up. Harry's mind translated Malfoy's words.
"Thank you," Harry replied, his voice a tad unsteady. He quickly moved away, eager to escape the scrutiny, and Slughorn guided him to the next guest.
"Harry, this is Charlus Potter," Slughorn introduced, his voice warm. "Charlus, meet our new friend, Harry Petrov."
Charlus Potter, standing tall and exuding an air of sarcasm, looked down at Harry and quipped, "Found your tongue yet, Petrov? Or should I start speaking in simpler words?"
Harry's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his eyes meeting Charlus's with a mix of timidity and defiance. Memories of their awkward encounter with Slughorn's missive still lingered, and he struggled to find the right words to respond.
Harry couldn't bring himself to bandy words with his ancestor and merely nodded.
Before the tension escalated, Slughorn intervened, smoothly redirecting the conversation. Harry felt a mixture of relief and lingering unease as he was led to another guest.
A voice called for Slughorn from behind.
Slughorn excused himself briefly, leaving Harry alone with the new one.
"Morrigan Riddle, a pleasure."
RIDDLE
As he gazed at her, Harry's mind froze.
Panic gripped him as her name resonated with memories of Voldemort, the Dark Lord, in his world.
His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the similarities, the connections that made his blood run cold.
Morrigan, tall and imposing, with dark purple eyes and neatly tied black hair. She eyed Harry.
"Nice to meet you. I don't believe we've had the chance to talk yet."
Harry's voice faltered; he couldn't shake off the feeling of tendrils probing in his mind.
A voice inside roared at him against meeting her gaze.
"Yes, um... nice to meet you too, Morrigan," he managed, his nerves palpable in his words.
Morrigan studied him for a moment and politely extended her hand.
Harry shook it and all hell broke loose.
Unbeknownst to the other guests in the compartment, Harry and Morrigan experienced this magical reaction in their connection. Their grip tightened, and Harry felt as if Morrigan's hand coiled around his like a python, sending shivers down his spine.
The heat between them grew intensely as he felt her stiffening. It looked like she was having a seizure or a vision. Harry too had a similar reaction.
Morrigan glared at him as if accusing him of attacking her.
The intensity of the moment overwhelmed him, and he desperately tried to avoid direct eye contact with her, following the instinctive warning that resonated deep within him.
Morrigan studied him intently, her gaze piercing and unnerving. There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes as if she sensed something hidden beneath the surface. "Nice to meet you, Harry. I don't believe we've had the chance to talk yet," she said, her voice filled with a subtle edge.
Harry's voice faltered once again as he replied, "Yes, um... nice to meet you too, Morrigan." His nerves were palpable, his mind still reeling from the inexplicable connection they had just experienced.
Before they could further dwell on the enigmatic encounter, Professor Slughorn interrupted, his jovial voice breaking the tension. He vigorously patted both Harry and Morrigan on the back, much to their discomfort. "Ah, there you two are! Marvelous to see such promising young talent in one place!"
Slughorn beamed, his round face flushed with pride as he exclaimed, "Ah, my dear Morrigan! Such a pleasure to have you here. I must say, I've had the privilege of personally mentoring this extraordinary young lady. She possesses a talent unlike any other I've come across in all my years at Hogwarts!"
Morrigan, composed and regaining her poise, nodded graciously, her eyes gleaming with a mix of gratitude and modesty. "Thank you, Professor Slughorn. Your guidance and encouragement have been invaluable to me. I am humbled by your kind words."
Slughorn chuckled, patting Morrigan's arm affectionately. "Oh, modesty won't get you far, my dear. You are destined for greatness, mark my words! Such raw potential, such finesse in your magical abilities. You are, without a doubt, one of the most talented individuals I have ever had the pleasure of teaching."
Morrigan's lips curved into a gentle smile, a blend of gratitude and humility. "I am truly grateful for your belief in me, Professor Slughorn. Your mentorship has been a guiding light, and I strive to live up to your expectations."
Harry, still caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts, watching the interaction between Slughorn and Morrigan with a mixture of awe and unease. He couldn't help but wonder what set Morrigan apart, what secrets lay behind her dark eyes and her composed demeanor.
Slughorn, always one for flattery, turned his attention to Harry. "And here we have another promising young talent, Harry Petrov, our esteemed transfer student from Russia. I have high hopes for you, my boy?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably under Slughorn's gaze, his nerves once again creeping to the surface. "Thank you, Professor. I'll do my best," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of self-doubt. Stark contrast with Morrigan.
Harry mumbled some excuse about wanting refreshments and turned from the conversation between Riddle & Slughorn.
He could feel the eyes of Malfoy and Riddle drilling holes in his skull.
As the gathering continued, Harry tried to regain his composure and be present at the moment, but the encounter with Morrigan had left an indelible mark on his mind. He couldn't shake off the lingering unease, the nagging sense that his fate was intertwined with hers in ways he was only beginning to grasp.
It was going to be a rough year.
Author Notes:
This concludes the Hogwarts entry and introduction of old foes with a new twist. Also there are new twists with uh new twists? All lame jokes aside, exam week is coming up. Chapter updates will be delayed. New chapter will be posted from 26th June and onward. In the meantime, please leave reviews. They are jet fuel for an author's muse. If you liked the story, lemme know what you liked about it. If you hated it, lemme know what you hated about it. If you have any suggestions/recommendations for story arc or just wanna introduce new plot points, lemme know about that as well. Thank you and have a great day ahead! :)