Harry Potter: Toji Potter

by Criezz

Toji is rebron into the Body of Harry Potter and still has his Heavenly Restriction but also has Magic, what will he do with such tools? (In this Ff, Toji has read and watched Hp when he was younger so he remembers some of it).

2. Second Year

Toji Potter

(This chapter covers the second year)

The Hogwarts Express billowed smoke into the crisp September air as students boarded, excited chatter filling the platform. Toji, strolled down the aisle, his sharp features and silver-tipped hair catching the attention of nearly every student he passed. There was an air of confidence around him that was impossible to ignore, a presence that made heads turn. Toji's slight increase in height over the summer gave him a mature edge, and the subtle change in his appearance—those shimmering silver strands—made him seem almost ethereal.

Spotting a familiar compartment, he slid open the door to see Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey already seated, their eyes lighting up the moment they saw him.

"Look who's finally graced us with his presence," Daphne teased, her lips curling into a smirk.

Tracey gave him a playful wink. "We thought maybe you'd forgotten about us now that you're the most famous wizard in the world."

Hermione, always more measured, smiled warmly. "Nice of you to join us, Harry."

Toji chuckled and took a seat opposite the three girls, leaning back with an easy confidence. "Forgotten about you? How could I when you three have been occupying my thoughts?"

The lighthearted flirting continued, each of the girls playfully prodding him with coy remarks. But Toji, catching the signals they were sending, decided to push back just a little harder.

"You know," he said, his voice dropping into a more seductive tone, "if all of you are going to fight for my attention, we could just make this simple. No need to fight at all. I've got enough for all three of you."

The room suddenly felt a little warmer as the girls exchanged glances. Daphne raised an eyebrow but smirked in approval. Hermione blushed slightly, clearly not expecting Toji to be quite so bold, but she didn't seem opposed. And Tracey... well, Tracey just leaned forward and grinned.

"Oh, so you're the sharing type?" Tracey quipped, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Toji simply smiled. It was enough to let them know he was serious but still playful enough to leave things open-ended. The rest of the train ride passed in similar fashion, a blend of laughter, light touches, and teasing remarks, the flirtation between them all undeniable. As the train neared its destination, Toji's mind was already working, planning what would come next.

As the train pulled into the Hogsmeade station and the students disembarked, Toji got to work. He made a conscious effort to interact with the first-years, particularly the more nervous ones. With every introduction, a handshake here, a warm smile there, he started to build a reputation among the incoming students. He showed them kindness and offered help where needed, giving advice on everything from spell pronunciation to how to handle the Sorting Hat's questions.

By the time the first-years were lining up for the Sorting Ceremony, whispers about how Harry Potter was not only the "Boy Who Lived" but also genuinely approachable and kind-hearted spread like wildfire. Especially among the girls, who couldn't help but admire his angelic features—the slight height difference, the sharp jawline, and those mesmerizing silver-tipped locks made him look otherworldly.

When the girls glanced towards the Slytherin table, they only had one wish: to be sorted into the same house as him.

As the Sorting Ceremony drew to a close and the students settled in for the feast, Toji sat at the Slytherin table, relaxed but aware of the eyes on him. He could feel the subtle gazes of younger professors like Aurora Sinistra and Pomona Sprout, both in their mid-twenties, casting glances at him. While they were professionals, Toji was sharp enough to notice the hints of admiration, even attraction, in their expressions. His presence, it seemed, was making waves not just among students but the staff as well.

After the feast, the Slytherin prefects guided the students back to their common room. The mood in Slytherin House was jubilant—winning both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup last year had left the house with a sense of pride and superiority.

As the students gathered, waiting for the customary speech from Professor Snape, Toji stood slightly apart, listening but also preparing. Snape's speech, as always, was stern and focused on house unity, with an emphasis on upholding Slytherin's traditions of ambition and success. The moment Snape left, however, Toji made his move.

Standing up, he called out in a commanding voice, "Everyone, gather around. I've got something to say."

The common room quieted instantly. His reputation, his achievements, and his very presence commanded attention. Slowly, the students formed a circle around him, curiosity piqued.

"I'm sure you've all heard the stories," Toji began, his tone calm but laced with authority. "About Voldemort, about the so-called Dark Lord who led many of our families down a dark path. But here's the truth: he was a coward."

The room murmured in disbelief, but Toji held up his hand, silencing them.

"He used fear to control, to intimidate. He forced people into submission. But let me ask you something—what kind of leader relies on fear? What kind of wizard hides in the shadows while sending others to die for him?"

The room was deadly silent now, every student hanging on his words.

"I'm not interested in following a coward. And neither should you be. Slytherin is about ambition, about strength, about being the best. And I can tell you this—Voldemort was neither the best nor the strongest. I've seen real power, and it doesn't come from fear."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"You've got a choice. You can keep following the shadows of a dead man, or you can stand with me. I'm offering you something better. Strength. Power. Freedom. Together, we can be the greatest house this school has ever seen—greater than any that came before."

A few older students, particularly those from families with ties to Voldemort, exchanged skeptical looks. One seventh-year boy, broad-shouldered and scowling, stepped forward. "And what makes you think you're stronger than him, Potter?"

Toji smiled. "I'm glad you asked. Why don't you find out for yourself?"

The boy and a handful of others stepped forward, ready to challenge him. Toji, always up for a fight, casually gestured for them all to come at him at once. The common room gasped, unsure whether he was serious. But as the challengers drew their wands, Toji moved faster than anyone could follow.

In a blur, he disarmed the seventh-year with a flick of his wrist, sending his wand flying across the room. The next challenger barely managed to get a spell off before Toji was behind him, tripping him with a well-placed kick. One by one, each challenger fell, none able to land a hit on him.

When the last student dropped, Toji stood there, not a scratch on him. The room was silent, save for the heavy breathing of the defeated challengers. Toji looked around at the stunned faces.

"So, who's with me?" he asked, his voice calm, confident.

One by one, the students nodded, some clapping, others murmuring in agreement. They had just witnessed something remarkable—Toji wasn't just talk. He was power personified.

As he stood there, victorious and unchallenged, a smile crept across his face. This was only the beginning.

The atmosphere in the Slytherin common room was different this year. Toji, standing at the front, surveyed his housemates with a calm but commanding presence. His recent duel victories and growing influence meant no one dared challenge his authority anymore. The time had come to solidify his vision for the future of their house.

"Listen up, everyone," he began, his voice clear and steady. "We're going to change how things are done around here. From now on, Slytherin will no longer be the house that others look down on or fear for the wrong reasons. We're going to show this school that ambition doesn't mean stepping on others, but rather lifting ourselves to the highest possible standards."

A murmur spread through the room, but everyone was focused on him.

"First, we'll be friendly with the other houses. That means no more pointless rivalry or petty grudges. I don't care if someone's from Gryffindor or Hufflepuff—if they're worth your time, treat them with respect."

This was met with some grumbles, but Toji's gaze silenced them.

"Second," he continued, "we'll stop this nonsense about blood purity. Muggle-borns, half-bloods, pure-bloods—it doesn't matter. If someone's magical, they're one of us. Period."

There was a pause, but surprisingly little resistance. Many had already witnessed Toji's unmatched skills and charisma, and his words were spoken with a certainty that made them difficult to argue against.

"Third, we're going to work harder than any other house—both physically and magically. I want each of you to push yourselves to be the best in every subject. We're going to show the teachers that Slytherin represents ambition in the truest sense. We'll lead by example."

Some students exchanged glances, unsure but intrigued. Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione, seated together near the front, nodded in agreement.

"Lastly," Toji said, his voice firm, "we're going to dominate. In academics, in sports, and in life. We'll be the best in every field, and we'll do it without needing to cheat or undermine anyone. You want ambition? This is what it looks like."

By the time he finished, the room was buzzing with energy. Toji had just laid down a new foundation, and everyone knew it. The Slytherins now had a path forward, one that didn't rely on the old ways of resentment and fear.

Over the next few weeks, life at Hogwarts changed for the Slytherins. True to Toji's word, they became more amicable with students from other houses. Small gestures—friendly greetings, helping with assignments—started to make waves across the school. At first, some students were suspicious, but soon it became clear that the Slytherins were serious.

Meanwhile, physical training sessions had become part of the Slytherin routine. Every morning, Toji led groups of students in both magical exercises and physical workouts in the common room. It wasn't long before the entire house began showing improvements. Even the professors noticed the change: Slytherins were not only excelling academically but also showing discipline and determination in all their endeavors.

The real fun began when Gilderoy Lockhart, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had his first lesson. The students had heard plenty of rumors about his so-called exploits, but when they arrived in class, they were greeted by a flamboyant display of self-importance.

Lockhart spent the first half-hour recounting his "heroic" adventures with unnecessary flair, while most students exchanged knowing glances. Toji sat back, suppressing a smirk, waiting to see how far this would go.

It didn't take long for Lockhart's incompetence to surface. When he attempted to demonstrate how to handle a simple pixie infestation, chaos ensued. He couldn't control the creatures and, in the ensuing disaster, accidentally knocked over his desk, got tangled in his own robes, and nearly set his own hair on fire.

The entire class burst into laughter, unable to contain themselves any longer. Even Hermione, who typically defended the teachers, had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling.

By the time the lesson ended, the students exited the room, still laughing and trading impressions of Lockhart's "heroics." Word spread fast, and by dinner, nearly every student who had attended that class was giggling uncontrollably.

The staff at the Head Table exchanged confused glances during the meal, none more perplexed than Professor McGonagall, who leaned over to whisper to Professor Sprout, "What on earth has got into them?"

Even Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow as another burst of laughter erupted from the Gryffindor table. Toji, seated at Slytherin's end, saw the opportunity to have some fun. He discretely transfigured his silver fork into a sleek, elegant silver feline and sent it toward the Head Table.

The little silver cat padded across the room, causing some murmurs among the students. It reached the professors and transformed back into a fork, but not before whispering its message to Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, explaining the full details of Lockhart's disastrous lesson.

McGonagall's eyes widened, and she quickly stifled a laugh, while Flitwick had to cough into his napkin to contain his amusement. Dumbledore, catching the last bit of the message, smiled knowingly.

Toji then leaned back and gave the feline a second task: ask for a time-turner to be delivered to him, discreetly. He needed to find a way to attend multiple classes at once, not just for convenience but also to deepen his understanding of time manipulation. He felt an itch to master time magic, sensing the vast potential it could offer him.

A few days later, the first Quidditch match of the year arrived: Slytherin versus Hufflepuff. The pitch was alive with excitement, and Toji mounted his broom with the same casual confidence that had become his trademark. The other players eyed him warily, knowing full well that Harry Potter, with his extraordinary abilities, was no ordinary Seeker.

From the first whistle, Toji dominated the game. His speed and reflexes left the Hufflepuff players in a constant state of panic. He didn't just snatch the Quaffle from the opposition—he practically toyed with them, zooming around the pitch in maneuvers so sharp and sudden that even the Slytherin chasers stopped just to watch him work.

At one point, he stood up on his broom—balancing effortlessly as though gravity had no claim on him—and raised his hand to his forehead, pretending to search for the Snitch as if it were a leisurely stroll. The crowd gasped, and then, in a flash, he became a blur. Moments later, he reappeared at the far end of the pitch, the golden Snitch gleaming in his hand.

Slytherin's victory was as swift as it was inevitable, and the cheers from the stands were deafening. Scouts from the national Quidditch team, seated discreetly among the audience, took immediate interest in Toji's raw talent. But despite his prowess, Toji knew that for now, he was still too young to be recruited. Still, the idea of playing for England was now firmly planted in their minds.

Back in the common room that evening, the Slytherins celebrated their win with enthusiasm, but Toji had already shifted focus to the next goal. His mind was always working, always planning. There were many things to conquer—Quidditch was just one of them. As he relaxed in the chair by the fireplace, eyes half-closed, his thoughts drifted to magical rituals, time manipulation, and the next phase of his plans.

The next Day,

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter as students from all houses filled in for breakfast. Toji, better known to the rest of the world as Harry Potter, took his usual seat at the Slytherin table, surrounded by his close companions—Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey. The three girls, while engaged in conversation, couldn't help but cast occasional glances toward him, smiles playing on their lips. Toji, for his part, was casually enjoying his meal, his mind already buzzing with plans for the day.

Suddenly, the fluttering sound of wings filled the hall as hundreds of owls swooped down to deliver the morning mail. Toji paid it little mind at first, until a large barn owl landed in front of him, dropping not one but two items—a thick envelope sealed with the emblem of the British Ministry of Magic and a neatly folded copy of The Daily Prophet.

Curious murmurs rose from nearby students as they noticed the official-looking envelope, and Toji, ever calm, set aside his toast and reached for the newspaper first. As he unfolded it, a large headline caught his eye:

"Harry Potter, Seeker of Slytherin, Makes Waves: Potential Candidate for National Quidditch Team!"

Toji raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he read on. The article was filled with glowing praise, recounting the previous day's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. His stunts on the field—particularly his mid-air balancing act and his remarkable capture of the Snitch—had apparently caught the attention of several scouts for the national Quidditch team. The writer, clearly in awe, suggested that while Toji was still young, his raw talent and unprecedented skills placed him on the shortlist of potential substitutes for the national Seeker position.

The article ended with a line that made Toji chuckle: "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, may soon become Harry Potter, the Youngest Seeker to play for England."

"Looks like you're a celebrity again," Daphne said, leaning in to peek at the article, her voice dripping with amusement. "Quidditch scouts, huh?"

Hermione, who had been quietly reading over his shoulder, looked impressed but unsurprised. "You did pull off some remarkable moves yesterday."

Tracey nudged him playfully. "National team? That's no small deal, you know."

Toji shrugged nonchalantly, though the glint in his eyes revealed he was anything but indifferent. "Well, I suppose they need someone who can win them games," he said, with a wink that made the girls roll their eyes in fond exasperation.

Just as he finished the article, his attention shifted to the official-looking envelope still resting on the table. He ripped it open and pulled out the parchment inside, which bore the seal of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

The letter read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that your performance during the recent Quidditch match has garnered the attention of the National Quidditch Selection Committee. As a result, you have been added to the official list of potential candidates for the Seeker position on the England National Quidditch Team.

While you are still underage to participate in official matches, we would like to extend an invitation for you to attend training sessions and meet with the team's coaches. Your inclusion as a substitute player will depend on further evaluation, but we are highly impressed by your current abilities and believe you have the potential to represent your country in the near future.

Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss next steps.

Yours sincerely,

Eleanor Croft

Head of Quidditch Selection

Department of Magical Games and Sports

Toji read the letter over twice, letting the information sink in. There it was—official confirmation from the Ministry of Magic. He was being considered for the national Quidditch team. Even with his usual calm and self-assured demeanor, the significance of the moment wasn't lost on him.

"Well?" Hermione asked, watching him carefully.

Toji folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope, his smirk widening. "Looks like it's official," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm on the list."

A sudden hush fell over the nearby Slytherins, who had been pretending not to listen in but were clearly hanging on his every word. Word of the article had spread quickly, and now with the official letter in his possession, it was undeniable—Harry Potter, at barely thirteen years old, was being scouted for the national Quidditch team.

"Blimey, Harry, you're not kidding!" a third-year Slytherin exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "National team? That's—"

"Amazing!" another student chimed in, her voice full of awe.

Toji merely shrugged again, though he couldn't entirely hide the satisfaction in his grin. "Guess they liked what they saw," he said nonchalantly, but the pride was unmistakable in his tone.

The Great Hall, meanwhile, was alive with whispers. Word was spreading fast across the tables, and heads turned as students from other houses began to glance over toward the Slytherin table, eyes filled with awe and curiosity. Even the professors at the Head Table seemed to have taken notice. McGonagall was glancing toward him with her usual stern yet approving look, while Snape, seated beside her, appeared completely indifferent—but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he spoke with Professor Sprout.

As the news rippled through the hall, Toji sat back, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He had always enjoyed playing Quidditch, but this new level of recognition was something else entirely. Fame and notoriety seemed to follow him wherever he went—first as the Boy Who Lived, now as a potential Quidditch star.

But Toji's mind was already spinning with ideas. This fame could be useful, a tool to build the influence he craved. And, of course, there was the satisfaction of knowing he was on the path to becoming the best at yet another thing.

"Harry Potter, the national Seeker," Daphne mused aloud, leaning back in her chair. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Toji grinned. "It's a start."

As breakfast went on, the attention on him grew. It seemed there was no escaping the limelight today. But Toji, ever adaptable, embraced it. Fame was just another tool at his disposal—and he intended to use it to its fullest potential.

The droning voice of Professor Binns echoed faintly across the room, the monotony of History of Magic lulling nearly every student into a half-sleep. Most were resting their heads on their desks, quills idly scribbling down nothing of importance. The classroom was dim, illuminated only by the faint sunlight filtering through the enchanted windows. It was the perfect atmosphere to reflect, and Toji—known to the world as Harry Potter—found himself staring absently at the ceiling.

For the past few days, a strange thought had been gnawing at him. Was he really Toji Fushiguro, the brutal assassin he remembered from his past life? Or was he Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived? It wasn't the type of question he usually pondered. Self-reflection wasn't his style. He was a man of action, someone who took life by the reins and bent it to his will. But today, in the dull haze of Binns' lecture, the question sat in his mind.

Was he Toji or Harry?

He thought back to his former life as Toji Fushiguro—the ruthless killer, the man who lived by the blade, constantly hunting, constantly fighting for survival in a cruel world. It had been a life of bloodshed, a life where power and cunning were all that mattered. And yet, somehow, that life had ended. He had fallen, died in battle, and now... now he was Harry Potter.

But Harry's life wasn't much better. The wizarding world seemed to have its own ridiculous problems. Dark Lords, secret chambers, ancient bloodlines—it was a different kind of battlefield, but a battlefield nonetheless. And here he was, standing in the center of it all, wearing the face of the Boy Who Lived.

Is there really a difference?

After what felt like hours of mental gymnastics—though it had probably only been ten minutes—he exhaled quietly. It didn't really matter, did it? Whether he was Toji or Harry was irrelevant. He was, and that was enough. No more pointless self-introspection. He was just... him. Toji or Harry, it didn't matter. Both identities fused into the person he had become now—a force of nature that would bend the world to his will.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. Yeah, I'll never have such a stupid, long thinking session again. Not my style.

With that resolved, he let his thoughts drift to more amusing matters. Over the past few days, he'd been hearing something strange—a serpentine voice, hissing in a language only he seemed to understand. It spoke of murder, of blood, of hunting its prey. While most people might've been terrified, Toji found it… funny. Amusing, even. How bad does Hogwarts' security have to be if no one else hears this creepy hissing? Wizards, for all their magic, were often incredibly dense.

As the lesson droned on and the students around him snored softly, his mind wandered to more practical matters. He had plans, big ones—training with the national Quidditch team, improving his spellwork, and maybe, just maybe, hunting down some legendary artifacts. That resurrection stone was still out there somewhere, after all.

Halloween came quickly, and the castle was buzzing with excitement. The Great Hall was filled with pumpkins the size of boulders, bats fluttered through the air, and the enchanted ceiling mimicked a starry night sky. Students were in high spirits, laughing and chatting as they feasted on the extravagant meal set before them. Toji, Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey sat together, enjoying the festive mood. The food was good, and for once, the worries of the magical world seemed far away.

But all of that changed when dinner ended, and they headed toward the dorms. The cheerful atmosphere vanished as soon as they reached the corridor leading to the dormitories. The floor was flooded with water, thick and reddish in color. It didn't take long for the curious students to gather, staring in horror at the ominous sight before them.

There, on the wall, written in what looked like blood, was a message that sent chills down everyone's spine:

"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE."

Screams erupted from the crowd of students, a wave of panic rippling through the corridor. Toji stood among them, staring at the message with a mixture of annoyance and mild amusement. How dramatic, he thought, rolling his eyes.

Of course, it didn't take long for Draco Malfoy to take the opportunity to open his big mouth. The blond Slytherin sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice as he yelled out:

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Before he could continue his tirade, both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape appeared, glaring daggers at the young Malfoy. McGonagall's eyes were filled with righteous fury as she swiftly smacked Draco on the back of the head, while Snape gave him a cold, withering look.

"Silence, Mr. Malfoy," Snape hissed, his voice as sharp as a blade.

Malfoy, for once, wisely shut his mouth.

Back in the Slytherin dormitory, Toji packed his things in preparation for something far more exciting. The next day, he would be heading out for a few training sessions with the England National Quidditch team. The letter had arrived just in time for Halloween, and Toji couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. The fame and recognition were useful tools, and he intended to wield them to his advantage.

As he zipped up his bag, he heard a knock on the door.

It was Professor McGonagall, looking slightly out of place in the Slytherin dorm. She cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter," she began, her tone professional but warm, "I understand you'll be leaving for your Quidditch training tomorrow."

Toji nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, what about it?"

McGonagall's eyes twinkled slightly. "I've decided to accompany you. I think it would be good to keep an eye on your progress. Besides," she added, almost sheepishly, "I'm a bit of a Quidditch enthusiast myself."

Toji smirked. He hadn't expected that. "Fair enough. I could use the company."

Snape, who had been standing just behind McGonagall, added in his usual cold tone, "I have no intention of leaving my potions class without a competent instructor, so Professor McGonagall will suffice. Dumbledore himself can cover for her while she's gone."

"Understood," Toji said with a slight nod. It was a solid plan, and Toji had no objections to it.

As McGonagall left, Toji lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would bring a new challenge, a new chance to prove himself. He couldn't wait to step onto that Quidditch pitch and show the world what he was truly capable of.

But for now, as the flickering lights of the dormitory cast long shadows across the room, his thoughts drifted back to that serpentine voice. The Chamber of Secrets, huh? It looked like this year was going to get interesting, after all.

With a final grin, Toji closed his eyes, ready for whatever came next.

The brisk morning air filled Toji's lungs as he walked alongside Professor McGonagall. They were heading toward the meeting spot for the English National Quidditch Team, where Toji—Harry Potter to the rest of the world—would be trying out. McGonagall had insisted on accompanying him, and though she didn't say it outright, he could tell she wanted to talk.

As they walked, McGonagall glanced at him from time to time, her expression soft, though her usual sternness remained. "I never imagined I'd see you on the National Team, Potter," she said, a faint hint of pride in her voice.

Toji shrugged, his sharp green eyes scanning the horizon. "It's just another game, Professor. A bigger stage, maybe, but the game's the same."

McGonagall smiled at that. "You're far too modest. Quidditch at this level is no small feat. But Harry..." Her tone shifted, becoming more serious. "There's something I've wanted to talk to you about for a while."

Toji raised an eyebrow, curious. McGonagall rarely got personal, and he could sense that this wasn't going to be a simple conversation.

"Why Dumbledore never let anyone visit you at the Dursleys, why you weren't raised in a magical society or even an orphanage…" she trailed off, her voice tinged with a mixture of regret and sadness.

Toji remained silent, letting her continue.

"Many have wondered why Dumbledore left you with your relatives, why he forbade anyone from helping you. The truth is… he feared what you could become." McGonagall's voice lowered, as if sharing a long-held secret. "Dumbledore once told me that you had more potential than even Voldemort. He knew that you could grow to be more powerful, not just because of the prophecy but because of who you are. And that scared him."

Toji's expression didn't change, though internally, he felt a faint flicker of amusement. So that's what it was, he thought. Dumbledore's fear wasn't rooted in Voldemort but in him—Harry Potter.

"He didn't want you to grow up like Voldemort," McGonagall continued, her voice soft now. "He saw what the orphanage did to Tom Riddle, how isolation and power warped him. But he also didn't want you to grow up in a magical society, where your power would only increase. He needed you to be… ordinary, distrustful, lacking confidence."

Toji let out a small, derisive chuckle. "He failed."

McGonagall gave a rueful smile. "Yes. He underestimated you. I—" She hesitated, as though searching for the right words. "I failed too, Harry. I should have been there for you. I see that now. But I'm here now, and I won't fail you again."

Toji glanced at her, and for a brief moment, he saw genuine warmth in her eyes. It wasn't pity or guilt. It was something more. She wanted to make up for the lost time, to be the mentor she had always wanted to be for him.

"Thanks, Professor," he said, his voice unusually soft. And, in that brief moment, he meant it.

They arrived at the Quidditch stadium, where the English National Team was waiting. The team members, coach, and a panel of judges stood ready to evaluate Toji's skills. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the excitement of a major tryout.

As Toji warmed up, stretching his limbs and practicing a few flying maneuvers, he felt the weight of several eyes on him. Reporters, ministry officials, and a few Quidditch enthusiasts watched from the stands, including one woman who caught his eye.

Jennifer Keddle. The name echoed in his mind. She was a direct descendant of Gertie Keddle, one of the witches who had written the first rules of Quidditch centuries ago. Jennifer was well-known in the Quidditch world, both for her knowledge of the sport and for her high-ranking position in the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports.

As the tryouts began, Toji performed with his usual precision and confidence. His skills as Seeker were unmatched, as he zoomed through the air, catching the Snitch effortlessly during the practice match. His game awareness, reflexes, and flying techniques were all on full display, drawing gasps of admiration from the crowd.

Throughout the match, Jennifer's eyes never left him. Her admiration for Harry Potter had started long ago, but today, it blossomed into something more. As she watched him fly, her heart raced, and her thoughts drifted into dangerous territory. The baby who had vanquished Voldemort had grown into a striking young man. His skill, his confidence—it was intoxicating.

As the session ended, McGonagall excused herself, leaving Toji to finish up with the team. It wasn't long before Jennifer seized the opportunity.

She approached him, her steps measured, her heart pounding. "Harry Potter," she said, her voice smooth but laced with nerves. "That was… incredible."

Toji turned to her, his intense gaze locking onto hers. He knew that look—the look of admiration, of something more. A smirk played on his lips. "Thanks. I do my best."

Jennifer blushed, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "You make it look effortless."

Toji chuckled, stepping closer. "Well, when you've been flying since you were a kid, it kinda becomes second nature."

There was a pause, a charged silence between them. Jennifer bit her lip, trying to maintain her composure, but Toji could see right through her. He was a predator by nature, and he knew when someone was on the verge of falling for him.

"You're pretty knowledgeable about Quidditch, aren't you?" he asked, his tone a bit more playful, teasing.

Jennifer nodded, trying to focus on something other than his sharp features and mesmerizing eyes. "I've loved the sport my whole life. It's in my blood."

"I like that," Toji said, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "A woman who knows what she wants."

Jennifer's heart skipped a beat. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke—it was enough to make her head spin. "I—well—thank you," she stammered, feeling herself melt under his gaze.

Toji leaned in slightly, just enough to make her feel the pull between them. "We should talk more," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with charm. "Maybe over dinner?"

Jennifer's heart leapt. "Yes, I'd love that," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Before she knew it, she was scribbling her address on a piece of parchment and handing it to him. Toji took it with a sly grin, his fingers brushing hers in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I'll be in touch," he said, his voice a promise.

Jennifer walked away, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She was a high-ranking official in the Ministry, a serious, professional woman. Yet here she was, reduced to a lovesick girl by the mere presence of Harry Potter.

Toji watched her go, satisfied. Another useful connection, he thought. She was more than just another admirer—she was influential in the Ministry, and having her wrapped around his finger would prove advantageous.

That evening, back in the Slytherin common room, Toji lay in his bed, staring up at the canopy. The day had been productive, to say the least. He'd aced his tryouts, gained the favor of the Ministry's Quidditch department, and seduced Jennifer Keddle—an influential woman and a "mature Milf," as he smirked to himself.

He reflected on the events of the day, his mind replaying his interactions with Jennifer. It had been almost too easy. With her in his pocket, he could exert influence over the Ministry, shaping things in his favor.

Toji's grin widened. The world was his playground, and he was just getting started.

With a satisfied sigh, he closed his eyes, already planning his next move.

The familiar feeling of Apparition twisted Toji's insides as he and Professor McGonagall reappeared in Dumbledore's office. The sudden change in scenery—from the bustling Quidditch stadium to the quiet, softly lit office—was slightly disorienting. McGonagall took a moment to steady herself, glancing over at Toji, who seemed perfectly at ease. He always was.

As they regained their bearings, McGonagall gave him a sidelong glance, the hint of a mischievous smile curling at the corners of her lips. "Harry, I couldn't help but notice Jennifer Keddle's... enthusiastic reaction to you. She looked quite taken."

Toji chuckled, leaning against Dumbledore's desk, crossing his arms with a sly smirk. "Oh? You noticed that?"

McGonagall shook her head, though she was smiling. "You were quite the charmer, weren't you? The poor girl looked like she'd never been flirted with in her life."

"Well, I aim to leave an impression, Professor," Toji replied, a playful glint in his eye.

McGonagall shook her head, though it was clear she was amused. The stern facade she often wore seemed to melt a little around Toji, giving way to something softer and warmer. They were still talking animatedly, McGonagall teasing Toji about Jennifer, and Toji responding with his usual mix of charm and arrogance, when they both noticed the room was not empty.

The rest of the Hogwarts professors were there, all of them staring at the pair with a range of expressions, from curiosity to bemusement. Dumbledore was standing beside his desk, his eyes twinkling, while Snape stood with his arms folded, an eyebrow raised. Flitwick and Sprout were seated nearby, clearly intrigued by the sudden arrival and subsequent banter.

McGonagall cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing slightly as she realized they had an audience. "Ah... Albus. It seems we're back."

Dumbledore smiled, eyes alight with amusement. "So I see, Minerva. And it sounds like the tryouts went well?"

Toji, undeterred by the audience, gave a confident nod. "Quite well, Professor Dumbledore. I impressed everyone who needed impressing. Now, it's in the Ministry's hands to decide whether I'll be allowed to participate in the World Cup or not."

The portraits of the former headmasters, hanging on the walls around the office, stirred to life. Several of them leaned forward, their eyes widening in surprise and admiration. Phineas Nigellus Black, one of the more vocal portraits, spoke up, his voice dripping with curiosity. "The World Cup? This boy is only a second-year, and he's already trying for the World Cup? Remarkable."

Another portrait muttered, "Dumbledore, it seems you'll be growing a lot grayer with Potter around."

A few of the portraits chuckled, clearly enjoying the spectacle. It seemed this was a running joke among them—secret gatherings of the headmaster portraits, sharing stories about the living, all while making playful bets about how much stress each new development would cause Dumbledore. The old headmasters knew entertainment when they saw it, and this new Harry Potter was certainly delivering.

Snape stepped forward, his dark eyes narrowed, a tinge of jealousy barely concealed. "Impressing a crowd is one thing, Potter, but I trust you have a proper report on the events. Including any... extra interactions with certain members of the Ministry?"

Toji's grin widened at Snape's pointed question, and he could feel the curiosity in the room heighten. "If you mean Jennifer Keddle, Professor, we did flirt a bit. Enough for me to secure a date during the winter break, just before the World Cup."

There was a moment of silence, followed by Professor Flitwick leaning forward, eyes twinkling with interest. "Only a date, Mr. Potter? Surely there must be more to it than that. After all, Ms. Keddle seemed quite taken."

Toji laughed lightly, shrugging. "Well, let's just say we'll stay in touch through letters. She's been quite helpful in pushing my entry into the National Team. Apparently, if you're talented enough, the Ministry is willing to forget you're underage, just so they can claim you as the youngest Seeker in history."

Professor Sprout's eyes widened, and a few of the other teachers exchanged looks of disbelief and astonishment. Snape, however, simply scowled, though it seemed more from begrudging respect than anything else. Even he had to admit that Potter's accomplishments were extraordinary.

"Are you serious, Potter?" Sprout asked, her voice full of amazement. "The youngest Seeker on a National Team since Quidditch began?"

"Seems so," Toji said, his tone light, though there was a sharpness in his eyes that suggested he was more than aware of the magnitude of his accomplishments. "I think they just want the publicity of it all."

Dumbledore beamed, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "It seems we will have to make some special accommodations for your training, Harry. I am quite certain that balancing your studies and playing for the National Team will be a considerable feat, but I have every confidence in you."

McGonagall, looking at Toji with a mix of pride and maternal fondness, nodded. "He'll manage, Albus. I've seen him do incredible things already. He just needs the proper support."

Toji gave McGonagall a sidelong smile, and she returned it with a small nod.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, his voice warm and filled with admiration. "It seems that your journey here is proving to be most extraordinary indeed. Hogwarts is fortunate to have you."

Toji inclined his head, a sly grin playing at his lips. "Thank you, Professor. I plan to keep things... interesting."

The portraits murmured among themselves, some of them laughing, others nodding in approval. It seemed that, among them, Toji was rapidly becoming a legend in his own right.

As the meeting concluded and the professors began to leave, Dumbledore approached Toji, his eyes full of both pride and curiosity. "One word of advice, Harry—keep your heart open, and let it guide your actions. You are on a remarkable path, one that few could even dream of."

Toji nodded, his expression inscrutable. He had already resolved to forge his own destiny, one that was entirely different from anyone else's. He didn't need Dumbledore's advice, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

After everyone had left, Toji made his way back to the Slytherin common room. The day had been long, and yet, as he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he felt exhilarated.

Jennifer Keddle's flushed face came to his mind, and he couldn't help but grin. The way she had been completely captivated by him had been almost too easy. He had used their correspondence to ensure that he would make the National Team, and now he was all but guaranteed a spot. He knew the Ministry couldn't resist the allure of the headlines: "The Boy Who Lived: Youngest Seeker in National History."

Everything was falling into place, exactly as he intended. He would keep pushing boundaries, keep breaking records, and, more importantly, keep gaining power. Hogwarts had no idea what it was dealing with.

The excitement of the Hogwarts students was palpable as they crowded into the Great Hall, now transformed into a makeshift dueling arena. Rows of tables had been cleared out of the way to make space for a large, elevated platform in the center. Lockhart had summoned this very assembly in a desperate effort to salvage his popularity—an effort to outshine a certain Boy Who Lived, who seemed to be effortlessly casting a long, commanding shadow over the entire student body.

The students were restless, whispering to each other and throwing curious glances at the empty platform. For a few long moments, it seemed as though Lockhart might not show up at all. The air was thick with anticipation, and the tension had nearly reached its breaking point—some students were even beginning to get up to leave—when the doors to the Great Hall suddenly swung open, and in strutted the man of the hour.

Gilderoy Lockhart, his robes immaculately tailored, his hair as golden as ever, beamed at the crowd. He held his wand aloft and flashed them all his trademark dazzling smile. Beside him was Professor Snape, his face twisted into an expression of unmitigated disdain. It was clear he loathed the very idea of this club, yet he seemed to revel in the idea of putting Lockhart in his place.

Lockhart bounded up onto the platform, motioning for Snape to join him. "Gather round, everyone!" he called, his voice carrying easily over the low murmurs of the crowd. "Welcome to the Hogwarts Duelling Club! I, Gilderoy Lockhart, will be your host, and—oh, of course, Professor Snape will be assisting me today!"

Snape's lip curled, but he said nothing, simply following Lockhart onto the elevated stage. The students gathered around, some curious, others clearly skeptical. Toji, in the midst of the crowd, stood with a relaxed confidence, his eyes half-lidded as if he was simply humoring the situation. The trio of Daphne, Hermione, and Tracey stood not far from him, exchanging amused glances. It seemed like everyone knew what kind of show they were in for.

Lockhart waved his hand in a sweeping motion toward Snape. "Now, let me give you all a quick explanation of the rules of duelling! It's quite simple—two wizards face each other, wands at the ready, and they bow before casting their spells! One-on-one, and no contact allowed, of course!" He smiled, clearly expecting applause, but the crowd simply stared. A few coughs echoed around the hall, but otherwise, it was silent.

Snape, barely hiding his annoyance, stepped forward. "Allow me to demonstrate." He gestured towards Lockhart, his eyes glittering with a sharp, almost malicious intent. "We shall begin with a basic duel."

Lockhart hesitated for a split second, but then he composed himself and plastered a bright smile on his face. "Yes, indeed! Let us show the students how it's done, shall we?"

The two professors took their positions at opposite ends of the platform, facing each other. They bowed, though Snape's was more of a contemptuous nod. Lockhart, on the other hand, exaggerated his movement, clearly playing for the crowd.

"Three... two... one!" Lockhart called, and before he could finish the word, Snape moved.

With a flick of his wand, a burst of light shot towards Lockhart, sending him flying backward across the platform. He landed with a loud thud, his wand spinning out of his hand and clattering across the floor. The hall erupted in laughter, students unable to contain themselves at the sight of the flamboyant professor lying flat on his back.

Lockhart scrambled to his feet, brushing off his robes as he attempted to regain some semblance of dignity. He forced a smile, though his face had gone a bit red. "Ah, well! A perfect example of what not to do! Haha, yes..." He trailed off, but Snape was already done with him.

Turning to the crowd, Snape's eyes locked on Toji. His expression was unreadable, but there was something challenging in his gaze. "Potter," he drawled, his voice carrying over the laughter. "Step up here. Let's see if you can handle a proper challenge." He gestured towards the seventh-year Slytherin standing off to the side. "You. Up here, as well."

Toji's lips curled into a smirk. He had been waiting for something like this. Slowly, he stepped forward, making his way up to the platform. The seventh-year, a tall, broad-shouldered boy named Evan Rosier, followed, looking a bit unsure. The crowd fell silent, the air buzzing with anticipation.

The two duelists took their positions, standing back to back. Lockhart, still visibly shaken from his own duel, attempted to regain control. "Now, gentlemen, remember—bow first, and then ten steps!"

Toji turned, giving Evan a brief bow, though his eyes never left his opponent. Evan bowed as well, and then they began the ten steps, moving away from each other.

"Three... two... one!" Lockhart called out again, his voice cracking slightly.

Toji moved instantly, and the difference between him and Lockhart couldn't have been more apparent. In a blur of speed, he pivoted on his heel, his wand already raised. Before Evan even had a chance to turn, Toji was upon him.

''Avada Kedavra'' Toji whispered, but instead of the deadly green light, Evan was hit by a swift combination of spells. First, his wand flew from his hand as Toji cast Expelliarmus. In the same breath, Toji's wand flicked again, and Levicorpus sent Evan into the air, his feet kicking helplessly above the ground. The hall gasped collectively, the seventh-year's body suspended in midair, utterly powerless. Toji held him there for a moment, letting the tension build, before lowering him slowly to the ground, unharmed.

As Evan's feet touched the floor, Toji stepped forward, placing his foot firmly on Evan's stomach. He looked down at him, his expression calm, a faint, almost bored smile on his lips.

"I win," Toji said, his voice low, but it carried easily across the silent hall.

The crowd erupted, a mix of gasps, cheers, and stunned silence echoing through the Great Hall. Even the teachers seemed taken aback, Lockhart standing with his mouth hanging open, Snape watching with an inscrutable expression—though there was a glimmer of something like respect in his eyes.

Toji stepped back, letting Evan scramble to his feet, his face flushed with embarrassment. He made his way back into the crowd, barely sparing a glance at Lockhart, who was still struggling to process what had just happened.

Snape turned to Lockhart, his lips curling into a thin smile. "It seems Potter is more than ready for proper dueling. Perhaps we should leave the rest of the instruction to him."

Lockhart opened and closed his mouth, clearly unsure how to respond, but the students weren't listening to him anymore. They were watching Toji—Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived—who had just taken down a seventh-year like it was nothing.

Toji returned to his spot beside Daphne, Hermione, and Tracey. The girls looked at him, their eyes wide, a mix of admiration and amusement in their expressions.

"That was... something," Daphne said, her voice filled with awe.

Hermione nodded, though she looked slightly disapproving. "Did you have to make it look so easy?"

Toji shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips. "I just wanted to make sure everyone knew where they stand."

Tracey laughed, shaking her head. "Well, you certainly did that."

The dueling club, it seemed, had only one star—and it wasn't Gilderoy Lockhart.

Toji's life at Hogwarts had taken on a strange blend of normalcy and anticipation. The students were abuzz with gossip about Harry Potter and his rumored participation in the World Cup, and the dueling club had become something of a regular gathering now that people wanted to see him in action. He found himself juggling schoolwork, physical training, and magical studies, all while managing an ever-growing number of admirers and even potential suitors.

But amid all of this, there was one thing that weighed heavily on his mind: the Chamber of Secrets.

He had heard the whispers of serpentine voices, hissing in the dark corners of Hogwarts, and knew that there was more to it than the average student understood. Toji was intrigued by the history and mystery of the Chamber, its secrets buried beneath centuries of myth and fear. He wasn't afraid of danger; on the contrary, he craved it. The thought of unearthing the mysteries hidden in the castle thrilled him, and he resolved to find a way in.

The opportunity presented itself sooner than he had expected. It was a chilly Friday afternoon, and Toji found himself alone in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, staring at the dingy old sinks. He knew, from his research and deductions, that this was the entrance to the Chamber. The question was how to open it.

He looked down at the tap with the small snake etched into its metal, running his finger over it. It responded to Parseltongue—he was sure of that. Taking a deep breath, he let the cold, ancient language slip from his tongue.

"Open."

The word seemed to echo in the chamber, as if the very walls held their breath in response. The sink began to shift, a grinding of stone on stone filling the small bathroom. Slowly, a circular hole appeared, revealing a dark abyss that spiraled downward. Toji smiled in satisfaction, his eyes glinting.

He wasn't finished.

"Stairs," he hissed, feeling the magic pulse through him. In response, stone steps began to form, descending into the darkness below. The stairs twisted and turned into the unknown, but Toji didn't hesitate. He knew that whatever awaited him down there, he could handle it.

With confident strides, he began his descent, each step taking him further away from the light and deeper into the depths of Hogwarts.

At the bottom, the stairs opened up into a massive underground chamber, carved with ancient runes and filled with an eerie green light that seemed to radiate from nowhere. The air was damp, carrying the scent of earth and something more sinister. He continued forward, stepping cautiously as he explored the expanse.

He eventually came face-to-face with an enormous stone statue, its face unmistakable—it was Salazar Slytherin, ancient and grim. The statue was so imposing that it seemed to almost look down on him, as if daring him to uncover its secrets. Toji approached it, his senses alert. There had to be more.

But then, a voice broke the silence.

"Well, well, well... The great Harry Potter, in the flesh."

Toji turned sharply, his gaze narrowing as a figure began to materialize from the shadows. It was a young man, handsome and almost ethereal in his appearance, a spectral presence that seemed to radiate both charm and malevolence. His lips curved into a smile that held no warmth.

"Tom Riddle," Toji said, recognizing the figure from Ginny Weasley's scribblings and the whispers he'd heard in the corridors. "I take it you're the heir of Slytherin."

"Very perceptive, Harry," Riddle responded, his voice echoing through the chamber. "But I have a feeling you've come here for more than just talk."

Toji chuckled softly, his eyes glinting. "If you think you can intimidate me, you're more delusional than I thought."

Riddle's smile faded, replaced by a steely expression. "I think you'll find, Potter, that I'm not without my... allies." He raised his hand, and from the shadows behind the statue, there came a low rumble. The ground trembled as an enormous serpent slithered into view, its emerald eyes fixed on Toji with a hunger that promised death.

The Basilisk.

Toji watched it with interest, his heart rate never quickening. Instead, he cracked his knuckles, a grin spreading across his face. He'd always wanted to see just how strong a legendary creature like this could be.

With a flick of his wand, Toji conjured a shimmering shield of magic, blocking the serpent's first lunge. The Basilisk crashed into the shield with enough force to send a shockwave through the chamber, but Toji barely flinched. He ducked low, sliding beneath the beast as it struck again, its fangs sinking into the stone where he'd stood just moments before.

He could feel the raw power of the Basilisk—it was strong, incredibly so. But compared to him, it was just a beast. Toji dashed forward, his speed blinding. He leapt, landing on the serpent's back, and cast Incendio.

The spell ignited with such force that it enveloped the snake's head in fire, blinding it. The serpent recoiled, thrashing wildly, but Toji was relentless. He channeled his magic, condensing the flames into a thin, searing blade of fire that extended from his wand.

With a final leap, he brought the blade down, severing the creature's head from its body. The Basilisk fell, its body crashing to the ground in a deafening rumble. The chamber was silent again, save for the crackling of the flames.

Toji stood over the fallen serpent, his gaze turning towards Tom Riddle. The spectral figure looked shocked, his eyes wide.

"You think you're powerful, Riddle?" Toji said, his voice cutting through the silence. "You don't even have a body of your own."

He noticed the diary lying on the ground nearby, and everything seemed to click into place. This wasn't a real person—this was a memory, anchored to this world by the diary. Toji smirked. A Horcrux. The remnants of a coward afraid of death.

"Pathetic," he muttered. He raised his wand again, and this time, the incantation was different.

"Pestis Incendium."(Fiendfyre).

A great beast of flame erupted from his wand, roaring to life as it engulfed the diary. The inferno raged, its shape shifting into monstrous forms—dragons, lions, serpents—devouring everything in its path. Tom Riddle's figure flickered, his expression shifting from shock to terror as the flames consumed him.

"No!" Riddle screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the fire. In an instant, he was gone, his presence erased from the chamber.

Toji extinguished the fire with a flick of his wand, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. He stared at the scorched remains of the diary, the corners of his lips curving upward.

"So that's what you are, Voldemort," he said softly. "A fragment of a soul too afraid to move on."

He turned his gaze back to the statue of Salazar Slytherin. There had to be more here—more secrets, more power. He approached the statue, raising his wand again.

"Open," he hissed in Parseltongue.

With a rumble, the stone began to shift once more, revealing a hidden passageway. Toji's eyes glinted with anticipation. He stepped forward, ready to uncover whatever lay beyond. The secrets of Salazar Slytherin were his for the taking, and nothing—not a phantom, not a serpent—could stand in his way.

The Chamber of Secrets had just begun to reveal its mysteries.

AN: This was far before the canon timeline, so now I have some time before sending our MC off for Summer Holidays.

Toji stood before the looming stone face of Salazar Slytherin, his wand pointed towards the mouth carved into the rock. The dark chamber around him felt heavy with centuries of secrets, the air carrying the oppressive weight of forgotten power. Toji felt a thrill in his chest—a surge of curiosity and excitement. He took a deep breath and hissed the word once more, the sound almost unnatural as it slipped through his lips.

"Open."

The enormous stone mouth creaked, a deep rumbling reverberating through the chamber. Slowly, it began to move, revealing a passageway beyond it. Toji stepped forward, peering into the darkness. Without hesitation, he climbed into the mouth of the great statue, his wand tip glowing with a bright Lumos.

The passage led into a hidden room—vast, musty, and clearly untouched for hundreds of years. There was a faint greenish glow emanating from the walls, revealing shelves upon shelves of ancient books, potions, and artifacts. Toji's eyes widened at the sight. He could tell instantly that this was Salazar Slytherin's private collection. These weren't just regular books; they were full of spells, experiments, and dark secrets that only the founder himself had the privilege to explore.

Toji ran his hand along the dusty tomes, reading the spines: "On Parseltongue Magics," "Secrets of Blood Purity," and "The Art of Serpent Enchantment." Each book seemed to hold endless potential, a world of knowledge that could make him far more powerful than he already was. There were potions that had been long forgotten—vials of shimmering, viscous liquids in varying colors—and artifacts radiating power: rings, amulets, and ancient weapons crafted with long-lost magical arts.

He explored the room for hours, carefully packing away everything of value. One by one, the books, artifacts, and potions disappeared into his personal dimensional space, a spell he'd learned to use for storing items of importance. The knowledge within these items could prove invaluable—not just for power, but also for understanding how Salazar Slytherin thought, how he created the legacy of cunning that the Slytherin House still followed today.

As the last item disappeared into his magical inventory, Toji took a moment to look around the now-empty room. He had taken all that he needed. With a satisfied nod, he turned back towards the exit, leaving the chamber in the same eerie silence he had found it in.

Days passed, and Hogwarts slipped into its usual winter rhythm. Toji attended classes, aced his assignments, and even made time for training sessions in preparation for the upcoming World Cup of Quidditch. Between the quiet thrill of preparing for something that would mark his name in history, he still kept tabs on the Muggle world. He was making moves, and they were already paying off.

Toji's involvement in several high-stakes financial maneuvers had yielded massive gains. Whether it was short-selling stocks during Black Wednesday, investing in property before the Maastricht Treaty, or using the scandal surrounding BCCI to redirect his funds—each step was calculated, and each step brought more wealth. His latest endeavor, extracting memories from Pablo Escobar, had added an edge to his influence in the darker realms of the world, putting underworld connections at his fingertips.

Jennifer Keddle had become an integral part of his time outside of classes, training, and empire-building. Her obsession with him had grown into something more tangible—a relationship that had been surprisingly enjoyable. She wasn't just another conquest; she was sharp, resourceful, and deeply connected within the Ministry. Their dates were both thrilling and strategic, giving Toji access to information few could acquire.

But today wasn't about financial games or relationships—it was about Quidditch. The day had finally arrived: the first match of the Quidditch World Cup. England versus Germany.

The stadium roared with excitement. Toji could feel the vibrations from the cheering crowd as he adjusted his gloves and mounted his broom. The sky above was an endless stretch of blue, a perfect backdrop for the event that was about to unfold. He looked around at the other players, his teammates giving him nods of confidence. Across the field, the German team stood assembled—focused and determined.

The commentator's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, echoing across the stadium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the opening match of the Quidditch World Cup—England versus Germany! And today, we have a special treat for you all! Playing as Seeker for the England National Team, the youngest player to ever participate in a World Cup match: Harry Potter!"

The crowd erupted. Toji could hear the cheers, the gasps, and even the astonished whispers. His name—Harry Potter—had become something of legend already, but today was about cementing that legend. Today, he was going to show them what he was capable of.

The whistle blew, and the players kicked off from the ground. Toji shot up like a rocket, the wind whipping against his face as he sped through the air. The German Seeker, a seasoned player named Hans Richter, was already trailing him, but Toji barely noticed. His focus was on the Snitch.

The Bludgers came at him almost immediately—sent his way by the German Beaters, who clearly saw him as the biggest threat on the field. Toji's reflexes were sharp; he swerved, ducked, and dived, each movement effortless as if he had been born on a broom. He twisted through the air, his eyes scanning the field, until he spotted it—a glimmer of gold.

There it was: the Snitch.

Toji leaned forward, urging his broom faster. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his entire body focused on one thing—victory. The German Seeker was right behind him, but Toji knew he didn't stand a chance. With a burst of speed, Toji closed the distance, his hand reaching out. The Snitch darted left, but Toji anticipated it, cutting across and grabbing it in one smooth motion.

The stadium erupted in cheers, the commentator's voice almost drowned out by the noise.

"HE'S DONE IT! HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! ENGLAND WINS!"

Toji landed gracefully, holding the Snitch high above his head as his teammates swarmed him, shouting in excitement. The commentator's voice echoed through the stadium again, full of awe.

"Unbelievable! Harry Potter, not just the youngest player in the World Cup, but perhaps the most talented Seeker we've seen in years! What a performance!"

The reporters were quick to snap pictures, their cameras flashing as they captured the victorious young Seeker. Toji smiled, his face calm and confident. He knew this was just the beginning.

He had set out to be the best, and today, he had proven it to the entire world.

Later that evening, as Toji lounged in his tent—a private area set up for the English National Team—he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in his ears, and he could almost see the headlines that would cover tomorrow's papers.

The youngest Seeker in history had made his mark, and the world of Quidditch would never be the same. But for Toji, this was merely another stepping stone—a game that he played for fun and for fame, a way to further his name and his influence.

There was still so much to do. The Chamber of Secrets, the underworld empire he was building, the mysterious power of Salazar Slytherin's secrets—these were all pieces of a puzzle that he was determined to solve.

Toji Fushiguro—or Harry Potter, as the world knew him—was on the rise, and nothing would stand in his way.

Toji sat cross-legged on the stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets, the air thick with a chill that only old, forgotten places seemed to possess. His eyes were closed, and his thoughts were fully focused on one singular objective—honing his Parseltongue. The serpentine language, which had already proven useful in accessing Slytherin's Chamber, had immense potential, and Toji wanted to see just how much he could extract from it.

His tongue twisted around the guttural sounds as he practiced aloud.

"Slithering flame, rise," he hissed, his words carrying a strange power in the ancient language. A thin column of blue fire erupted in front of him, and Toji's lips curled into a slight smirk.

"Serpenscalor," he whispered, a heated warmth radiating from slightly above his hand and enveloping the room as the temperature began to rise.

Using spells in Parseltongue seemed to amplify their effects, giving Toji a unique and potent edge that most wizards could only dream of. He was certain that Salazar Slytherin himself had designed some spells specifically for use in parseltongue. It wasn't simply about incantations—it was a practice of willpower and intent, with magic responding differently to the ancient language. It was raw, powerful, and uniquely his.

Toji could feel the energy humming within him as he cast spells, the power resonating with something ancient and dark. He had yet to uncover all the books he had taken from the hidden chamber, but one thing was clear: Parseltongue was more than just a language—it was a tool, a weapon that had untapped potential.

Parallel to his newfound magical endeavors, Toji had also decided it was time to build his public image. He began backing initiatives that promoted justice and equality within the Wizarding World. He ensured that certain causes were brought to the forefront—donations to St. Mungo's for better healthcare access, promoting scholarships for underprivileged magical children to attend Hogwarts, and even supporting causes for the rights of magical creatures like house-elves. He'd taken a particular liking to the latter, aware of just how much leverage the elves could provide in the future if they were treated well.

Dumbledore seemed intrigued by his sudden advocacy. Some of the professors spoke about it among themselves—was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, destined to become an even more influential symbol of hope and fairness? If only they knew that Toji was playing the long game—a game where influence and loyalty were often much more potent weapons than magic.

"Stylish Wizard of the Year!"

The event itself was a spectacle of glamour and flare, with witches and wizards from all corners of the Wizarding World attending to see who would claim the title of the most stylish individual for the year. The venue was lavishly decorated, complete with floating chandeliers and fabric woven from shimmering threads of magical cloth.

Toji had made sure to go all out, drawing inspiration from both Muggle and magical fashion. He wore an outfit with distinct, layered robes that had a similar cut and silhouette to Qin Shi Huang from Record of Ragnarok—a regal yet commanding attire that combined intricate black and dark green silk brocade with gold accents. Flowing sleeves and draped layers cascaded down his arms, and he wore it with an air of nonchalance that only accentuated his natural charisma.

He had incorporated certain elements of Byakuya Kuchiki's style from Bleach—the way the robe was bound at the waist, giving it a fitted and sharp look, and even a silver neckpiece resembling a kenseikan as an ornamental touch that made the outfit feel otherworldly.

As he entered the event, the eyes of attendees followed him, and whispers spread throughout the crowd. Toji had deliberately dressed in something reminiscent of a conqueror, a ruler—but with a casual twist that spoke of his youth and modern sensibilities. He radiated confidence without arrogance, power without the need to flaunt it.

By the end of the night, when the votes were tallied, it was no surprise that Toji was named Stylish Wizard of the Year. The crowd erupted in cheers, and the flashes of cameras filled the room as Toji stepped forward to accept his award. He flashed a charming smile, waving with his left hand while his right hand rested casually in his robe's pocket.

The second Quidditch World Cup match of the english team approached quickly, and this time England faced off against the Bulgarian team. The game was fiercely competitive—Bulgaria's Seeker, Viktor Krum, was formidable, his skills recognized worldwide. Toji, however, was undeterred.

He knew from the start that Krum was aggressive, a Seeker who relied on flashy aerial maneuvers and high-risk moves to catch the Snitch. Toji decided to use that aggression against him. He didn't even bother to ride his broom as expected—he often hung off it, crouching low, his body streamlined against the wind, relying on his raw speed and strength. He baited Krum into dangerous dives, swerving just in time to avoid Bludgers while forcing Krum to break off pursuit to avoid collisions.

It was a mental game as much as it was a physical one. Toji anticipated every move, using feints to make Krum commit, only to pull away at the last second. The crowd was astonished as the commentators marveled at Toji's unique and almost reckless approach.

In a sudden burst of speed, Toji caught sight of the Snitch and tore after it. Krum, not far behind, tried to match him, but Toji had timed it perfectly—he cut across the pitch, forcing Krum to swerve again. With an effortless reach, Toji closed his hand around the Snitch, trapping it in his grasp.

"AND ENGLAND WINS AGAIN!" the commentator roared. "HARRY POTTER, THE YOUNGEST SEEKER, HAS ONCE AGAIN PROVEN HIS TALENT!"

The stadium erupted in applause. Toji had done it again, and his reputation as the best and youngest Seeker in the world grew with each match.

The Winter Break was in full swing, bringing a sense of calm and festivity that enveloped Hogwarts. Snow blanketed the castle grounds, and the Great Hall was adorned with wreaths and enchanted snowflakes drifting down from the ceiling. Toji had planned something special—something to charm three very important girls in his life.

On Christmas Eve, Toji found himself sitting comfortably in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione. The fire crackled, filling the room with warmth as the four of them shared hot cocoa and exchanged gifts. Toji had chosen his gifts carefully: a rare potion book for Daphne, an elegant silver bracelet enchanted to play soothing music for Tracey, and a beautiful quill set for Hermione, each with custom charms to write smoothly on any surface.

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she looked at her gift, her cheeks turning pink as she smiled at him. Daphne's expression softened, and Tracey laughed, her gaze lingering on Toji as she thanked him. The mood was perfect.

Toji leaned forward, his voice lowering as he spoke, his tone warm, "I have to say, Christmas wouldn't have been nearly as interesting without the three of you here."

Hermione blushed, her eyes meeting his, and Daphne looked away, a smile tugging at her lips. Tracey, however, smirked and leaned closer.

"Are you trying to charm us, Harry?" she teased.

Toji shrugged, a grin playing on his lips. "Maybe. Is it working?"

Tracey's gaze flickered between Daphne and Hermione, and then she nodded. "I think it might be."

Slowly, he moved closer to each of them, leaning in as he gently kissed them—Hermione first, her lips soft against his, then Daphne, who closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt into the moment, and finally Tracey, who smiled against his lips.

For a moment, everything was perfect—warmth, closeness, and the thrill of having pulled it off. The three girls were smiling, their cheeks flushed, and Toji couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

Christmas was, indeed, magical.

And with the World Cup continuing, his name was on the rise, his influence growing, and his charm working on all fronts, Harry Potter was becoming an unstoppable force.

He had plans—grand plans—and so far, everything was falling into place.

The journey to the Quidditch World Cup final had been grueling, but Toji thrived under pressure. He played through the quarterfinals and semifinals with effortless grace, systematically dismantling the competition. The anticipation for the final match only grew as Toji continued to shine, leading England to a showdown against Ireland. The wizarding community was abuzz with excitement: a young Seeker, no more than a second-year Hogwarts student, had taken England to the finals, and people couldn't help but ask—could Harry Potter bring home the cup?

As the school year went on, Toji divided his time between studies, spending time with his girlfriends—Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey—and maneuvering his way through the Ministry. He used his invisibility cloak to snoop around the Ministry of Magic, eavesdropping on meetings, slipping into restricted archives, and uncovering secrets that many in power thought buried for good. He found things that could ruin reputations and bring the Ministry to its knees, should he choose to expose them.

For now, however, Toji simply gathered information. Knowledge was power, and power was something he intended to use wisely and at the right time. The Ministry would be in his hands one day—either directly or indirectly—and everything he learned could be used as leverage. But that was for the future; today, there was a much more immediate concern—the Quidditch World Cup final.

The day of the final arrived, and the tension in the air was palpable. The stadium was a massive arena, filled with spectators from all over the world, decked out in vibrant colors representing their teams. Red and white flags for England fluttered in the wind, and green and gold for Ireland adorned every corner of the stadium.

The stadium buzzed with a cacophony of cheers, the roar of excited fans echoing across the massive stands. Magical banners hovered in the sky, showcasing players' names, while enchanted fireworks burst in midair, showering the crowds with sparkling lights.

The commentator's voice filled the air, carrying the excitement of the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final match of the Quidditch World Cup! Today, we have an exhilarating game ahead of us—England versus Ireland!"

Toji stood with his teammates in the England locker room, the hum of the excited crowd reaching even through the stone walls. His green eyes gleamed as he adjusted his crimson Quidditch robes. He could hear the chants echoing in the air—people calling his name. The youngest Seeker in history, Harry Potter, was playing in the Quidditch World Cup final, and the world was watching.

Coach Montgomery paced the room, his voice loud as he gave his final instructions. "Listen up, everyone! Ireland is no joke. They've got a solid lineup, and their Beaters are some of the best we've faced. Keep your eyes open and watch out for Bludgers. And Harry—" the coach looked at Toji, "you know what to do. We need you to get that Snitch."

Toji gave a nod, a confident smirk tugging at his lips. "As long as I'm in the sky, that Snitch belongs to us."

With that, they walked out onto the pitch, greeted by deafening cheers and flashing lights. Toji mounted his broom, the Firebolt, which had been gifted to him by a group of influential supporters. He could feel the smooth handle beneath his fingers, and his heart began to pound with excitement. He loved this—the thrill of the game, the roar of the crowd, the feeling of being untouchable in the air.

The referee's whistle blew, and with that, the game began.

The players kicked off from the ground, soaring into the air. Toji zoomed up, his eyes immediately scanning the field for the Snitch. The Irish Seeker, a tall, agile wizard named Cian O'Sullivan, was also on the hunt. The Quaffle was tossed between the Chasers, and the game was on.

"And it's England in possession!" the commentator's voice rang out. "The Chasers are making their way down the pitch—oh, beautiful pass by Jenkins! The Irish Chasers are moving in—watch out for Connolly, he's known for his aggressive tackles!"

Toji's eyes narrowed as he caught a glint of gold in the distance, the Snitch fluttering near the Irish goalposts. He shot forward, cutting through the air like an arrow. The Irish Seeker, O'Sullivan, noticed him and immediately followed, the two Seekers racing neck and neck.

The Irish Beaters, seeing their Seeker in pursuit, swung their bats with precision, sending a Bludger hurtling towards Toji. He dodged to the side with fluid grace, his body leaning into the broom as he sped forward, closing the gap between himself and the Snitch.

Suddenly, O'Sullivan pulled ahead, nudging Toji's broom with his own to push him off course. Toji's eyes flickered with irritation, but he quickly regained his focus. Instead of retaliating, he pulled his broom into a sharp dive, making a split-second decision.

"Harry Potter's diving—what's he doing?!" the commentator exclaimed, the crowd gasping.

O'Sullivan hesitated for a fraction of a second, uncertain if Toji had seen the Snitch or was feinting. That hesitation was all Toji needed. He pulled up from the dive, his Firebolt responding instantly as he shot back into the air. The Snitch was now just within reach, fluttering erratically.

But just as Toji reached out, O'Sullivan came barreling toward him. Toji smirked—he'd been waiting for this. Instead of reaching for the Snitch, he twisted his body off his broom, hanging upside down with one arm as he let O'Sullivan overshoot.

The crowd roared as Toji performed a one-handed catch, grabbing the Snitch out of the air while still hanging upside down. He swung himself back up, holding the Snitch high, his grin evident even from the stands.

"HE'S GOT IT! HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! ENGLAND WINS THE WORLD CUP!"

The stadium erupted in cheers, the roar deafening as fireworks exploded in the air, and banners of red and white flashed across the sky. Toji circled the pitch, holding the Snitch aloft, soaking in the cheers and applause. His teammates rushed forward, surrounding him, their faces beaming with joy.

The Irish players, though disappointed, couldn't help but acknowledge the incredible skill they had just witnessed. O'Sullivan flew over, giving Toji a nod. "That was... unbelievable," he said, offering his hand.

Toji shook it, his smirk never fading. "Better luck next time," he said, his tone confident but not unkind.

As the celebrations continued, Toji stood on a podium, the Quidditch World Cup trophy in his hands. The commentator's voice boomed across the stadium once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, the youngest Seeker to ever win the Quidditch World Cup—Harry Potter!"

The crowd roared, and Toji looked around, his green eyes alight with something fierce. This was what he lived for—the thrill of victory, the adoration of the crowd, the sense of power that came with being the best. He raised the trophy high, and the cheers grew even louder.

As the noise subsided just slightly, Toji leaned into the microphone placed before him, his voice carrying across the stadium. "As long as I play," he said, his voice smooth and confident, "England will never lose."

The crowd erupted again, a mixture of awe, excitement, and a bit of shock at his declaration. But Toji knew it wasn't arrogance—it was the truth. He was born to conquer, whether it be on the Quidditch pitch, in the Wizarding World, or beyond.

After the Game:

Excerpt from The Daily Prophet, Special Edition:

"He Who Rules the Heavens: The Unstoppable Rise of Harry Potter"

The wizarding world is abuzz with excitement and awe as The Boy Who Lived has once again made history—this time, not by vanquishing dark forces, but by ruling the skies. Harry Potter, at the astonishing age of twelve, has become the youngest Seeker in history to participate in and win the Quidditch World Cup, setting an unprecedented record for catching the Golden Snitch in every single match he played.

The young prodigy led England to victory with a flawless track record, snatching the elusive Snitch before his opponents could even come close, and doing so with a level of finesse that has left veteran players and fans alike in stunned admiration. Commentators, enchanted by his daring feats and audacious maneuvers, have now given him a new title: "He Who Rules the Heavens".

The name is fitting, for Potter soared above the competition, seemingly untouchable, dominating each game with a combination of skill, agility, and strategic genius that the sport has never seen before. From dizzying mid-air acrobatics to breathtaking dives, Harry Potter showcased a mastery of the broom and a fearless determination that has redefined the standard for Seekers worldwide.

The Quidditch World Cup has seen many legendary Seekers over the decades, but never has there been one who commanded such complete and utter control of the pitch at such a young age. Potter's victory marks the beginning of a new era in Quidditch history, and fans across the globe are already calling for his continued involvement in international play.

"As long as Harry Potter plays, England will never lose." These were the words of the young champion himself, spoken after lifting the Quidditch World Cup trophy. And who could doubt him? With the sky as his dominion, He Who Rules the Heavens seems destined for a legacy unlike any other.

The name Harry Potter has long been associated with miracles and legends. Today, a new chapter is written: Harry Potter—the Seeker, the Champion, and now, the one who reigns supreme over the heavens.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was electric as the House Cup ceremony was set to commence. The banners were already shifting to deep emerald and silver, symbolizing the indisputable victory of Slytherin House. Students from every house were gathered at their respective tables, but all eyes seemed to drift toward the Slytherin side, where the exuberance was palpable.

Toji sat among his fellow Slytherins, comfortably nestled between Daphne and Tracey, while Hermione, now a more than welcome guest at the Slytherin table, sat beside him as well. There was something effortlessly magnetic about Toji Potter. As he leaned back, relaxed, with one arm around Daphne and the other hand resting on Tracey's, he radiated the victorious confidence that had become his signature.

The girls around him were in great spirits, each one occasionally whispering something in his ear that made him smirk. A few Hufflepuffs across the hall rolled their eyes at the cozy scene, while some Gryffindors pretended to ignore them. Even some Ravenclaws watched curiously, observing Toji as he basked in the moment of triumph—alongside Slytherin's victory in the House Cup.

Professor Dumbledore stood up, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he addressed the hall.

"Another year has come to an end, filled with challenges, achievements, and... most entertaining events," Dumbledore announced, looking directly at Toji, who merely gave him a knowing smile. "But now, it's time to celebrate the courage, intelligence, loyalty, and ambition that our houses have shown. And it is my pleasure to announce that this year's House Cup belongs to... Slytherin!"

The hall erupted. Slytherins roared in delight, banging on the table, their cheers ringing in everyone's ears. Toji joined in the applause, a smug look on his face. Hermione leaned into him slightly, whispering, "Looks like the work we did in the library paid off. Even I can't be mad about this."

"Glad you finally see it our way," Toji replied with a grin, pulling her closer into the cuddle as the Slytherin table celebrated.

The celebrations went on for some time, and the Great Hall filled with a sense of accomplishment and closure for yet another year at Hogwarts.

At King's Cross Station, the scene was quite different. The magical world slipped away, replaced by bustling Muggles unaware of the extraordinary happenings the children around them had lived through over the last year. Toji was dressed sharply, his confidence undiminished even in the Muggle world. He stood out effortlessly as he approached Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione's families, each set of parents waiting for their children.

"Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Daphne's father said, extending a hand, clearly sizing Toji up.

Toji shook his hand firmly, offering a charming smile. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Greengrass. Daphne's mentioned you quite a bit. I must say, your reputation precedes you."

Mr. Greengrass gave a slight, approving nod, his eyes glinting as he assessed the young man before him. Tracey's mother, meanwhile, looked Toji up and down and smiled approvingly. She leaned toward her daughter, whispering something that made Tracey blush, while Toji gave her a confident grin.

Hermione's parents were initially a bit taken aback by the fact that their daughter was part of a group, but Toji's natural charisma soon won them over. He discussed everything from schoolwork to the importance of keeping Hermione safe, and by the end of the conversation, both Grangers were smiling warmly at him.

"Take care of yourself, Harry," Mrs. Granger said, patting his shoulder. "You seem like a young man with a good head on your shoulders."

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger. I'll make sure to look after Hermione, too," Toji promised, his eyes meeting Hermione's with a softness that made her blush.

As he made his farewells, Toji left the station in style, his confident stride turning heads even in the mundane Muggle setting. He had more than just family meetings in mind; he had plans—ambitious ones, the kind that would cement his influence far beyond Hogwarts.

Over the summer, Toji set out to achieve his next great objective—finding Excalibur, the legendary blade of King Arthur. It took several months of research, old maps, and following cryptic hints, but eventually, it led him to a serene lake, almost otherworldly in its beauty. As he approached the edge of the lake, the water began to ripple, and the Lady of the Lake appeared in a glimmering apparition. She was serene, timeless, and in her hand, she held the legendary sword and its sheath.

"Are you worthy of this power, young one?" she asked, her voice echoing through the air like a melody.

Toji nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I am, and I will prove it with every action I take," he responded.

With a graceful movement, the Lady offered the sword and sheath to him, and Toji grasped them both firmly. He could feel the sheer power of the blade, the promise of invincibility. But it was the sheath that intrigued him the most—protection against death itself. He knew that this was no ordinary weapon. It was a symbol of unyielding power, of a destiny only a true ruler could wield.

Not one to be idle, Toji also dedicated time to practicing and mastering his magic further. The Patronus Charm was an intricate spell, and he knew it could be pushed beyond the boundaries most wizards assumed were set in stone. Day after day, Toji practiced in secret, honing the spell until he could not only summon his Patronus but alter its shape and form to serve different purposes.

His Patronus, which initially manifested as a mighty, spectral snake, could now take different shapes depending on his intent. He discovered he could use it as a shield, dispersing Dementors more efficiently, or even as a messenger—sending it across great distances with encoded messages. The versatility of the Patronus was immense, and Toji had plans to exploit every bit of it.

Additionally, Toji had more plans to implement. He wanted to attend all the major tournaments, the political affairs that would bring him more spheres of influence. He intended to be present wherever power shifted, wherever decisions were made, and wherever opportunities lay waiting. He was determined to take what he wanted, to build the empire that existed in his mind.