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Chapter Text

He stretched out his magic through his body. The music it sang was always beautiful, yet mourning. Their deaths shall forever haunt his soul - yet he knows they will want him to be happy.

It took him years for him to discover happiness again, and only then was he able to move on. Although his grief still comes back to haunt him, his new friends help chase it away. The four of them seemed to bond together quickly. Their unique outlook made them friends.

First came a boisterous man, his flaming red hair showing his Viking heritage. He dragged a female behind him, her looks making her out to be the man’s sister. The sister chugged a bottle of ale in a bar where they met, holding her liquor well.

They met every so often at that bar, talking about the past. He…started smiling again. Small ones, but a sign of happiness nonetheless. Then came a dark-haired woman, her straight back showing her noble heritage. The red-haired sister excitedly showed her friend to him.

“How did a viking like you meet her ?” He asked, shocked. It wasn’t often Vikings became friends with a noble. The sister blushed.

“Ah, I was raiding her home and we just started talking!” She said, scratching the back of her head. The woman laughed, looking fondly at the red-haired woman. They started explaining the unbelievable story. 

He turned towards the brother who nodded, showing that the story was true. Thus began the four’s journey of friendship. They traveled together, having fun.

Then came war. It ravaged the land they resided in at the moment. People were slaughtered like pigs. The four tried to help all they could but with their limited knowledge of magic at the time, they couldn’t do much.

“Rowena!” The sister yelled at her friend, who was held down by a man with lust-filled eyes. A kid came up to help the two, knocking the man down with all of their body weight.

“Are you okay?” The kid asked innocently.

“Yes…Wait! Look out!” Rowena said too late. The kid was stabbed through the heart and died. The guard that was knocked down got up and killed them. At least the kid got them enough time to run away.

The two cried together at the death surrounding them. Bodies were piled up on the streets. Eventually, they met up with their male friends. The four of them ran from the land until they reached where they were born. 

They were grief-stricken, not knowing what to do with the knowledge of war and death. Finally, Rowena spoke for the first time in months.

“I want to create a safe haven for children,” She whispered, still haunted by the image of the child that died. The other three looked at each other, weighing their options before agreeing.

“How will we protect them? What about shelter?” Salazar asked.

“I have a castle that I inherited from my parents. We can protect them there,” Rowena said.

“What about the mages? How will they learn?” Helga asked.

“We can teach them,” Godric said, admitting his love of teaching. So began the construction of a school for mages and a safe haven for all children. They would separate the mages and non-mages during their learning hours.

Thus began the legacy of Cræftgléaw - otherwise known as Hogwarts.

—
(JANUARY 1ST, 979; HOGWARTS)

Salazar felt his age, his joints popping every time he moved. He looked down at a piece of parchment with equations written on it.

Ah, it seemed so long ago that he started this project. Finally, he has completed it. With a quill in hand, he wrote in the journal next to the parchment. He paused frequently in the writing, before finally writing the final mark. The first entry was written.

Salazar Slytherin 1st of January 979 BC

I’m afraid of what is after death, a common fear. This project has helped me understand the afterlife, but it also helped me avoid it. An agreement with the personification of Death has been made. He shall allow this project to go on if we complete challenges for him.

I agreed and told my fellow founders about it. Though, I fear once I take this potion, I won’t remember the deal. Yet, the knowledge is too tempting. Who knows what discoveries will be made in a thousand years?

Those who found this journal, I am Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of Cræftgléaw. The other founders and I will create a fake scenario for our leaving. This project cannot be discovered, or devastation will happen to us all.

I now take my leave to tell my fellow founders about the completion of the potion.

—

Salazar put the quill down and exited the darkly lit room. A slight smile was on his face at the memories of his founders. Hopefully, they will follow the plan...even if it makes him out as a bad guy. Death has concocted a plan with the advice of Fate.

—

Salazar Slytherin 19th of September 979 BC

It was a bit of a struggle, but the others agreed. Rowena decided to take it today as her eagerness for knowledge pushed aside her caution... I am going to miss her. With her rants and her ambitions to be smarter. Her frizzy hair and brown eyes. She's a sister to me in all but blood. I will miss her a lot. Oh, she was an outstanding teacher and an even better learner. Cræftgléaw, our school, will forever miss her. One might suspect that I love her; many people bet that I would get together with her. Those days were good but were soon followed by the bad. I will not go into detail now; read the past entries to understand.

---

Salazar Slytherin 1st of March 980 BC

Another founder took the potion. Godric Gryffindor. My best friend, one that always stood by my side. I will miss him much, for his bravery and honor were (scratched out) . His red hair with freckles seems to never disappear. Oh, Godric. The friend that has always stood by my opinions and lets me see my wrongdoings. His facts made me see the error of my way. Sometimes, even if he's a Gryffindor, I would think he would be a Ravenclaw with his strategic thinking and random facts. Hah! Now I’m referring to them as their houses like our students.

---

Salazar Slytherin 31st of July 980 BC

I am going to take the potion today—the potion for the next chance of life. I miss Godric too much to last much longer, but today I planned to take it. Wish me luck. The potion will make me reincarnate every hundred years..

Helga is going to wait a year on March 11th. She was the sister of Godric but took up the reins of the Hufflepuff house, a matriarch line. Now, it is time for me to greet another life. Hopefully, I can find this in my next life. This journal of my life, so I can remember those who I  might forget.

Salazar set his pen down while closing the book. The potion on his desk stood still, waiting for its maker to drink it. And drink he did. Taking big gulps down. He choked and fell dead. Soon after his body disappeared, never to be found. The only thing left was his journal and legacy. A legacy that was going to be tainted. Blood and traitors will forever tarnish the tremendous and powerful Slytherin line.

(History will distort the school they grew to love…such a shame…)

------

(JULY 31ST, 1980; St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries)

After multiple reincarnations, Salazar Slytherin was reincarnated for the final time…

(The entities laughed and cheered with wine in their hands!)

He cried when he exited the womb, knowing that from his calculations this will be the last one before he goes into the afterlife. The sorrow-filled cry startled his parents. No newborn should be so sad…

(Something in the parents nudged them to ignore the cry.)

Save me, my children…save me…

A whisper graced four children's minds for the first time in a thousand years.

~

"What will you name him?" The healer asked with an air of joy at seeing the baby. 

"Henry Potter, a powerful name for a healthy boy." The father said with happiness in his eyes. 

"We can call him Harry if we want to." The mother said with a stance of exhaustion. 

"Go to sleep Lily, you just pushed a baby out of your body." The father said, noticing the exhaustion. Lily smiled at her lover and slept.

The baby looked at his new parents fondly, only understanding a few words of this new language.

------

(OCTOBER 31ST, 1981; GODRIC'S HOLLOW)

Time passed, and Henry slowly understood the words they said. He always did have a knack for languages. They were a wonderful family and thrilled to have him.

 Yet, when the old man came, their smile lines disappeared, and stress appeared. They moved away from the mansion they inherited and went into a little cottage.

"It's him! Go! I'll hold him off!" The father yelled with determination. This tossed Hadrian's mind off the path of reminiscing. The father had messy black hair and determined hazel eyes. This was before he remembered that he forgot his wand. A man, who seemed more snake-like, entered the small house. No hair was on his scalp, and he had no nose. This was Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin.

(Or he thinks.)

"You are a disgrace to Purebloods everywhere," Voldemort said to the father while shooting a green light from his wand. The father fell down, limp, and dead. The snake-like man went up the stairs with malicious glee in his red eyes. He (was this snake-like human a man?) turned to the left and soon met with the sight of a woman—a woman with bright red hair and green eyes. 

"Step aside." The snake-like man said, offering the woman a chance.

"Spare my baby! Kill me, but spare my son!" The mother said.

"Step aside, girl!" Voldemort shouted with impatience.

"Kill me, just not my son!" The mother begged again.

"I ask you one more time, step aside!"

"Kill me and spare my baby!"

Greenlight enveloped the woman, and she fell limp. Voldemort stepped over the body lazily, like he has done thousands of times before. A babysat in a crib, and Voldemort looked disgusted. He was never fond of babies; their screams and cries have always irritated him. Yet, the baby seemed to stare at his very soul. Well, what's left of it, anyway. It was unnerving with its intense gaze and mature air. So, with a sorry-not-sorry look, he finally shouted, " Avada Kedavra !" And a green light went out of his wand, yet something strange happened this time. It bounced back to its caster.

Tom Marvolo Riddle turned to ashes with the last scream, and his soul escaped with no sanity left.

------

(NOVEMBER 1ST, 1981; NUMBER 4 PRIVET DRIVE)

In a house, one that seemed very normal, an ordinary family slept. Almost too normal. Everything they did seemed animated and normal. That day was not normal, though. Owls flooded the sky, and strange things were all over the news. So, for the family, it disturbed their everyday lifestyle. This family would be the last person in anyone's mind to have anything to do with the owls in the sky or even the stiff cat on the brick wall. They weren't into such nonsense. They were the opposite of abnormal.

The father of the family, Mr. Dursley, was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he had a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley, and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere. (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 1)

The Dursleys were the most perfect family out there. Yet, they have a secret. One that they fear will get out. It was a strange secret. One that would ruin their perfect facade of normalcy. It would tear it down until they had to start all over again. This secret was the Potters, a strange family that does odd things. 

How is this their secret? Well, the mother of the Dursley family was the sister of a Potter. Petunia Dursley's maiden name was Evans and her sister, Lily Evans, became Lily Potter. She was a witch, one born from ordinary humans. So, this was a dangerous secret for this family. They never wanted it to get out, or it would doom them. But when owls flooded the skies, they just knew it had to be connected with the Potters. It was a gut feeling, and they learned to trust it. They always knew to trust a gut feeling. It saved them from the magic that wanted to plague their lives.

When Mr. Dursley started driving to work, trying to ignore strange things, he saw many funny-looking people. People that had cloaks, robes that seemed old-fashioned. It wasn't normal behavior. But Mr. Dursley waved it off as some new fashion statement that young people wore. Yet, these people aren't that much younger than him. There is even one that is older than him with an emerald cloak!

The traffic jam disappeared, and his car moved again. Soon, he was in the Grunnings parking lot with his mind back on drills. He entered the building.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl, even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning; he yelled at five different people, and he made several important telephone calls and shouted more. He was in an excellent mood until lunchtime when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the bakers. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard, yes, their son, Harry." (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 1)

After he heard that, he called his wife. Then he thought. There are a bunch of Potters! And he's sure their nephew's (he thinks with disgust) name is not Harry. So, it couldn't be his nephew. So, he set the phone down and drove back to #4 Privet Drive. When he came home, he watched the news.

The news had stories of owls flying around and shooting stars with people with cloaks. Now, this is when his heart stopped. What if this was with their crowd?

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. They usually pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead, he said, as casually as he could, "Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. A nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree." (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 1)

That night, the couple slept restlessly, all their thoughts on their sister/sister-in-law's crowd.

~

That same night, an old man named Albus Dumbledore set a baby by the name of Harry Potter on their doorstep. Only a note and no blanket were there as he left.

And all over Wizarding Britain, people cheered the name of a baby. For this baby defeated the greatest Dark Lord. So, holding their glasses up, they all cheered in hushed voices, "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

Chapter Text

HARRY POTTER always thought he had the usual childhood. Although with no friends and not much interaction with his relatives. He slept in a cupboard, but it was comfortable at his young age. 

Childish drawings crowded the walls. Art was a way for him to entertain himself while his relatives are out and about.

They ignore him as much as possible. They feed him three times a day and shelter him, but that’s it. 

He was made the do some chores - mostly ones that involve going outside. It might be to give him sunlight from all the time he spends inside. Weeding and planting the flowers was fun and satisfying.

“Harry, come here!” Uncle Vernon grumbled. His impatient voice made the boy quickly get out.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon?” Harry asked, looking around the big man in curiosity.

“You are turning six today, so I feel you are old enough to learn how to cook,” Uncle Vernon said. “Your Aunt will teach you.”

The boy nodded and trickled into the kitchen where a woman with a long neck was standing. The woman sneered at him in contempt.

“I’ll be teaching you how to make eggs and bacon,” Petunia Dursley said with disinterest.

That day, he successfully learned how to cook adequately enough that he was put to the task of cooking every other day. He enjoyed and had a smile every time it was his time to cook.

So, the boy grew and grew; his baby sharpened and turned into something regal. His bright green eyes seemed to hold lost knowledge. People looked away from his eyes, finding them unusual for a boy his age.

Harry’s features slowly made his relatives tolerate him less. They piled more chores upon him, trying to keep him away from the house and their view. Luckily they never hit him, corporal punishment wasn’t ‘normal’ so it wasn’t done.

“Aunt Petunia, I’m done,” Harry said, his black hair flowing down his back. Even when his aunt tried to cut his hair, it kept growing back overnight. One good thing that came out of that incident was that he finally learned his last name.

“Go to your cupboard, then!” Petunia snapped back the present. Her new jealousy was on her face.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” He went back to his cupboard; a place where none of his relatives dare go in. They said it was because it reeked of his…unusualness.

Petunia sighed and glanced at her sweet Dudley. He was playing with his games, and she smiled. The only blemish in her family was the spawn of her sister. Several years ago, she would happily put him in an orphanage. A threat from a letter stopped that thought from appearing again. They said they would have to keep him until he died.

“Vernon! Come here!” Petunia yelled to their room.

“What is it, honey?” Vernon questioned.

“I have an idea to get rid of the boy,” Petunia said, eager to get rid of the boy.

“You do?” Vernon looked excited. He has been waiting for this moment.

“Why don’t we fake his death? Nobody really knows he exists. We can take him to an orphanage under a new name. Harry is such a normal name for such an unnatural person.”

"Perfect! We will start it tomorrow. This solves our problems," Vernon said and went back to the room as he was tired. She sighed and planned. Petunia wanted him to help plan, but she never married him for his smarts.

A paper was in front of her with different names, but one stood out. It urged her to choose it. Nathair was such an unordinary name - perfect for someone of their kind. With this in mind, she went back to her bedroom and slept with her darling husband. Their son continued to play with his games, none the wiser to the time.

~~~~

Morning came quickly for the residents of Privet Drive. As usual, each house did its own little routine. Number 4 did something a little different this one time. Glee shrouded each of the adults' faces. Finally, the stain on their family is about to go away! Dudley Dursley was still asleep while his parents grabbed his cousin.

"Get up, boy!" Vernon said. His mustache flicked up in irritation.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. Quickly, he got up from the mattress. His relatives were, for once, happy to see him. Vernon and Petunia looked at each other with anticipation as he walked over to them.

"Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon?" He asked.

"We're giving you to an orphanage," Petunia said, going straight to the point, "An alternative name has been given to you. Make sure not to reference your old name."

"What is my new name?" Harry asked.

"Nathair, a perfect name for you, " She said. Turning to her husband, she led them both to the car. They wanted this done as quickly as possible.

The drive was long and tedious. Never have the family been in this close of quarters for this long. It was tense with relief. They were finally getting rid of Harry! Oh, they hoped that they would never have to see him again.

They arrived at the orphanage after an hour of driving. Harry or Nathair almost believed he would suffocate in the car. They grabbed a lot of his blood from the cupboard; his mature mind thought of the possibilities of why and his innocent mind ignored it.

"Hello! What are you here for?" A kind lady asked as the family entered.

"We wish to put someone up for adoption," Vernon said.

"Oh, who will it be?" The lady said, more solemn.

"Nathair Potter, our nephew here," Petunia pushed him forward.

"The reason for bringing him here?" The lady asked.

"Financial instability."

"Ah, I'm sorry that you would have to leave your nephew here," The lady bowed her head to them. Both of the parents smiled tightly. "It would just take an hour to put him in a system."

With that, the lady left the hateful Vernon, the jealous Petunia, and their anxious nephew alone. The same atmosphere that graced the car continued on as though it never left. Seemingly days passed as they stared at each other. An hour passed, and a man entered the room.

"Nathair Potter?" He called.

With one last look at his relatives, the newly named Nathair turned to the man and left the room.

~~~~

Years passed, and he set a routine. Nathair would get up, do whatever morning things people do, and read. The reading lasted until lunch - where he would eat. After lunch, he would practice what he learned in the books, whether technological or physical. Some matrons of the orphanage call him a prodigy. The kids call him a cheater, and he might be. He lived an entire life before this one, though he doesn’t remember most of it. Though, he thinks that he will remember more as he grows up.

As he remembers more, he notices magic in his memories. He practices that all through his childhood.

The times have changed, and it's so exciting. He would've never even imagined the things people have discovered these days! Their buildings leave a lot of admiration for the architects. New things like cars and printers always amazed him. Yet, what about the magical world? He noticed they hid from the world. Why is that?

Nathair only knew of the magical world for one year. He was a baby and didn't go out much. So, he never learned much of the world he loved. He would've never believed this would happen when he reincarnated.

There were downsides to these fantastic inventions. The world was dying from the pollution and the division of her people. 

Then, eleven-year-old Nathair got a letter with a familiar stamp.

Chapter Text

The Weasley family can be seen as peculiar. How busy were the parents to have seven kids? They had barely enough money to keep up with the children. Although Ginny was used to a big family, never has she wanted to bang her head on the table as now. There were birth control spells for a reason.

(She tried to not wonder about her parents…bedroom lives.)

As the only girl out of six boys, Ginny was paid more attention to than the youngest brother, Ron; though both of them were still ignored in favor of their brothers. Of course, as the twins - Fred and George - are growing pranksters while the oldest - Percy, Bill, and Charlies - were in school, they weren’t resentful of it. Maybe, if they didn’t have faint memories of past lives, they would be.

A thousand years before then, it was common for people to have a lot of kids. Ron and Ginny were the oldest of six back then, so they knew all about how busy a big family is. They couldn’t hate their parents for trying their best.

“Everyone come here! Dinner is ready!” Her mom called from downstairs. Ginny rushed down, her mother's food was the best!

As the rambunctious family ate, a tap on the window interrupted them. There were four letters in its claws. Ron ran to the window and opened it.

“Percy, here’s your letter,” Ron handed out a letter. Percy grabbed it and opened it.

“I made prefect!” Percy announced a huge grin on his face. Everyone began clambering over to him, congratulating him.

“Here’s yours, Fred, George,” Ron smiled softly before opening his own letter, an acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Ginny came over and looked over his shoulder.

“You will probably see them once you go.” She smiled, a little jealous of him seeing them before herself.

“Once I meet them, I’ll send you letters all the time, okay?” Ron comforted her.

“Okay.”

Finally, their mother came over to see why they were so distracted.

“Oh? You got in? Congratulations! We’ll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow at 15:30,” His mom said.

~~~~

Four animals were on a stamp, a lion, snake, eagle, and a badger. Nathair looked over the stamp, taking in the animals before a huge smile crossed his face. He lovingly caressed the seal, his eyes tearing up. This has to be the same school he helped create (at least…he hoped…)

With a rip, he opened the letter.  His eyes scanned the words, his hope diminishing bit by bit. It seemed so...different than it was in the past.

“Why is it named Hogwarts?” Nathair questioned himself. The school was his, but the name was very different. Is the language so different that Cræftgléaw was hard to pronounce? The course materials were similar to the first letter sent from a thousand years; have things in the magic world not changed that much? He hoped that more technical discoveries would happen. At least the books changed.

The books are clearly biased - besides a few like charms, potions, and transfiguration. Rise and fall of the Dark Arts? What are the dark arts? Times have certainly changed a lot.

Victors create history, so all the books on that will be one-sided. A sigh escaped Nathair’s mouth, and he got up. He has to search for an entrance to a magical alley. It could literally be anywhere!

Ah, he could send a letter to ask for help. That was his only option besides just looking.

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

Thank you for sending me an acceptance letter, I always knew I was different! Could you please send me directions to a place where I could get materials? I would greatly appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Nathair Potter.

It was straightforward and to the point. There was no way they could misunderstand such a letter.

“Children, it’s dinnertime!” The matron of the orphanage called. With one more look at the letter, he sealed it up and sent it with an owl that was by the window.

“Coming!” He yelled back and walked down the stairs.

~~~~

Far away in Scotland, an old woman looked at the same letter Nathair wrote. Eyebrows raised, she wrote a response. He wasn’t on the muggle-raised list, but that might have been a glitch on the spell. Curiously, she looked at the spell but saw nothing wrong. Maybe he was a pureblood or half-blood that was taken to an orphanage? 

(She ignored the last name, after all, wasn’t the boy who lived name Harry? Potter was also a common name in the muggle world.)

She took the letter to the Headmaster, hopefully, he would know what to do. She knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Headmaster Dumbledore answered distractedly. He wanted to do a locator spell to find Harry Potter, but the knock stopped him.

“A boy, Nathair Potter, wasn’t on the muggle-raised list, when should I get him?” The deputy headmistress asked for confirmation. She had a basic idea of what to do, but she needed a second opinion.

“Just get him with the rest of the muggle-borns,” He answered, not really caring. The deputy headmistress nodded and left him to his things. Dumbledore began doing the locator charm and saw that he was in an orphanage. Ah, that doesn’t really change anything. Orphanages are supposed to be dreadful. With his hundred years of experience, he knew each one was awful.

(He ignored the twinge of guilt he felt. This was for the better - the wizarding world will be all the better for it.)

Though, he might be going by a new name. He waved his wand once again and saw the same name McGonagall told him.

“Ah well, I would have liked to send Hagrid, but Minerva can be just as good,” He said to himself. Hopefully, Minerva can land him in Gryffindor. A sad smile graced his face. His plans are coming together, but who knows how he would feel at the end? Would his guilt kill him or would he become what his Slytherin students think of him; a manipulative old coot?

He knows how someone can be corrupted by the thoughts of others. Isn’t that how Tom became Voldemort in the first place?

Sometimes he wished he could go back in time to erase his mistakes. Maybe Gellert would still be good (maybe he wouldn’t have to sacrifice the son of James and Lily Potter).

He dreads to know what his sister thinks of him.

(He hopes Harry - or Nathair won’t hate him.)

Albus searched everywhere for a way for the Horcrux to be removed without harm. He found none. Closing his eyes, he sighed and summoned his Patronus, a spider. It changed the day after Gellert left, foretelling his future. He changed it to a Phoenix with a flick.

“Tell Minerva McGonagall that I figured out that Nathair Potter is Harry Potter. She can continue to do what I told her to do,” He said. The phoenix nodded.

A spider creates a web; what is he doing but creating a web? This thought went into his mind and he grimaced. Minerva will make Harry Potter admire her, making him want to go into Gryffindor.

(He avoided the thought of what would happen if he went into another house…If he became a second Tom Riddle.)

~~~~

(The Next Day)

“Who are you?” Hermione looked at the woman in front of her after opening the door.

“I’m Minerva McGonagall, the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts,” Minerva said, her hair was in a tight bun, its color grey from age.

“Hogwarts? Like the letter we got?” Hermione’s mom asked suspiciously.

“The letter speaks the truth,” Minerva said. To prove it, she pulled out a stick and waved it in front of the desk. It turned into a pig, and with another wave, she turned it back. The parents looked surprised before going into deep thought.

“Why should we admit our little girl into your school?” Hermione’s dad asked, looking through the letter.

“She needs to learn how to control her magic, as, without practice, it could grow unstable.”

“Why should we let her into your school and not another?” The dad asked.

“Our school is the most premier school in the United Kingdom,” Minerva answered, these questions were fairly standard.

“Ah,” He said, he didn’t want to move to go to another school. Their dentist practice might not survive it.

“We can go through the details now. Afterward, we can go to the Magical Alley in London. I’m going to be picking up another child on the way there,” Minerva said.

Hermione smiled - it’s time for her entrance into the magical world. She looked at her parents and begged to go alone. After all, she’s shown how independent she’s been through the years. The two parents looked at each other and nodded.

How has the magical world changed from a thousand years ago?

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Nathair believed what others believed; that he was cold and uncaring. That all that was to him was an emotionless mind. His face seems to tell this story, his face staying in a straight monotone line. People in the past that hung out with him never stopped to think his mask was just that - a mask. They think of him as someone who had nothing to care for and nobody to care for him. 

Only a couple of people looked closer and found what was under the facade. All of his personal students saw his mask for what it was. Three of the friends, ones that didn’t care about his money, found out about his mask a few years after they met.

“A professor is here to talk to you,” An employee at the orphanage said after knocking on the door.

“Thank you for letting me know,” Nathair said as the employee exited the room. A minute passed with only the sounds of a person coming up the stairs entertaining him.

Someone opened the door - a woman with a bun on top of her head. She was a little bit familiar, probably a close friend of his parents. A girl with fuzzy hair followed her obediently. She also looked familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Hello, Mr. Potter, I’m Minerva McGonagall. This is Hermione Granger,” The woman signaled to the girl next to her, “I’m here to guide you through the magical world with her.”

Nathair looked at her weirdly, noticing the slip of the tongue. 

“Where will we be going?” He asked.

“To the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance of Diagon Alley,” Professor McGonagall answered.

“And where is that exactly?”

“Charing Cross Road in London’s West End - most muggles can’t see it.”

“Muggles?” Nathair asked. Hermione listened intently to the discussion.

“Non-magical folk,” Professor McGonagall answered once again.

“Ah, ok, how soon will we be leaving? Are we going by car or is there a magical way to get there?”

“Apparition - a kind of teleportation. I’ll take you straight to the Leaky Cauldron after we get out of the view of the muggles,” She said.

~~~~

“Leading some more muggle-borns, Professor McGonagall?” Tom, the bartender for the Leaky Cauldron, asked.

“Aye,” She nodded. The two children behind her looked at the bar with disdain. It was very dirty. Even during the daytime, there were plenty of people drunk. Not a good introduction to the wizarding world.

“I’ll go lead you to the entrance.”

“Thank you.”

The small group followed Tom until they came upon a brick wall. Hermione looked at it, wanting to figure out all its secrets. Professor McGonagall tapped a pattern on the bricks and the brick wall separated to show an area of shops of all kinds.

Hermione instantly noticed the bookstores while Nathair looked everywhere he could. Finally, the group stopped in front of a large marble building.

“This here is the bank, Gringotts. It’s run by goblins; tricky folk you don’t want to anger,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Professor? How will I get enough money for my school supplies?” Hermione spoke up for the first time.

“All muggle-borns are included in a scholarship program until they are old enough to get jobs,” She said.

“What age are we old enough to get jobs?” Nathair asked.

“About fifteen years of age,” Professor McGonagall answered.

As they entered, the two reincarnated wix noticed the goblins staring at them; surprise echoed on each face.

“Goblin, I would like to get money from the muggle-born scholarship vault and the Harry Potter’s trust vault.” Nathair looked surprised at the second vault. He knew he was born in a wizarding family, but to have his own vault? They must’ve been rich.

“Do you have the keys?” The goblin asked, not looking up from his papers.

“Yes, right here,” Professor McGonagall said, taking out two keys. The goblin finally looked up and saw the two humans for the first time.

“Um, Professor McGonagall, why is there a vault in my old name?” Nathair whispered to her. He needs to keep up the act of being ignorant.

“Didn’t you know? You’re from a popular wizard family, of course, you have your own vault!”

“I did?”

“Yes, we need to go along now.”

“Griphook will take you down to the scholarship and trust vault. I need to talk with the humans here,” The goblin said, pointing to another goblin beside him. Professor McGonagall looked confused before leaving with a nod, smart enough not to ask questions.

“Now, Duchess Ravenclaw and Duke Slytherin, I’ll lead you to the boss,” The goblin said.

Hermione and Nathair looked at each other in surprise. 

“I knew you looked familiar!” Nathair whisper-yelled.

“I should've guessed,” Hermione laughed. They held hands awkwardly as they walked.

“We should wait until we got there for us to hug,” He let go.

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re mundane-blessed this time?” Nathair asked.

“Yep, and you’re apparently famous by all the books I saw about you in the bookstore,” Hermione smirked.

“Just my luck,” Nathair said.

“You were the one that always got us into trouble.”

“I wasn’t the one that tickled the dragon!” He childishly stuck his tongue out.

“You were the one that got Godric to do it!” Hermione quipped back. He pouted.

“Enter the door to your left,” The goblin said as he stopped.

“Thank you, Teller,” Hermione said. She opened the door first and looked at the office. It was very ordinary, nothing like the grand entrance to the bank.

“Ah, I was wondering when I would see you,” The goblin on the chair said.

“Wait...Gringotts? You’re still alive?” Nathair blurted out.

“Well, I go by Ragnarok now. I thought it fitting to be named after the Norse Apocalypse.” Gringotts - or Ragnarok said.

“How?” Hermione prodded.

“Us goblins have to keep our secrets,” The goblin winked, “Anyway, I’ve been keeping track of your account statements. As most of the businesses you invested in have either died out or been labeled dark, you haven’t gained much money in the recent years.”

"How much money do we have?" Nathair asked, hoping he would have enough money to get all the things he wanted to do.

"As you have no descendants to spend the money on, the Slytherin Vault has, from the original 1,000,000 deposited, 30,330,000 pounds, or 6,090,361 Galleons, 9 Sickles, and 1 knut," Ragnarok said.

"Ah, that's a lot," Nathair said, shocked.

"Yes. Anyway, as Duchess Ravenclaw also had no descendants, the Ravenclaw Vault has, from the original 2,323,890 deposited, 72,807,474 pounds, or 14,619,974 Galleons, 15 sickles, and 12 knuts."

"Hah! I have more money than you!" Hermione said.

"I bet I have more objects!" Nathair said.

"On the topic of objects, The Ravenclaw Vault has about three hundred books, five weapons, and four wands from your sister, mother, father, and your old self. The Slytherin Vault has a  hundred books, fifty weapons, and over a hundred different wands."

"I was right!" Nathair said.

"I still have more books."

"You are book-obsessed."

"I'm not book-obsessed!" Hermione said. Nathair gave her an unimpressed look. "Fine, I might be a little book-obsessed."

"Yes, yes. In total, you two combined make up the largest vaults in the whole bank," Ragnorak finished. “Probably from being the first vaults opened.”

"Is our business concluded?" Hermione asked. She really wanted to look at the bookstores.

"Yes, now get out! I need to finish some dreaded paperwork," Ragnorak groaned.

"Hah! I hope you have a good day," Nathair said as they exited the office. Once they went to the entrance of the bank, they met up with the professor.

"How did it go?" Professor McGonagall said, interest in her eyes.

"It went well," Nathair said.

"Why did they call you?" 

"They noticed we had different vaults than the ones we were told," Hermione said.

“What other vaults did you have?" Professor McGonagall asked, before putting her hand over her mouth. “Oh, sorry. That was rude of me.”

“Ah, my trust vault was overflooded so they had to make a new vault for it,” He lied.

“I’m descended from a witch,” Hermione said.

"How much was in each of those?” She asked curiously - trying to dig for more information. They’ve answered the first question, so they might answer this one.

"Confidential," He smirked.

Chapter Text

The walk around Diagon Alley was awkward. Each step seemed to be shrouded in a tense atmosphere. Professor McGonagall kept looking between them, noticing their closeness once out of the bank. She seemed to want to ask something but kept it to herself. Their arrival at Madam Malkin’s distracted them as the owner pushed the two children onto a stool to take their measurements.

“The normal Hogwarts set?” Madam Malkin asked the professor.

“Yes, please,” Professor McGonagall said.

Measuring tapes surrounded them, measuring every inch of them. The madam carefully knitted three sets of plain black work robes, one plain black pointed hat for day wear, one pair of protective dragonhide gloves, and one black winter cloak with silver fastenings each.

Nathair and Hermione looked in awe at the process. Back in their day, each set of clothes took days to make. That’s why they decided against a strict uniform as it was too expensive and time-consuming.

Once the clothes were done and paid for, the group went to go into the book shop, Flourish & Blotts. Hermione looked very excited to go in and get every book there was. Her hand twitched as they got closer to the school books. Finally, she whipped out a card for all the extra books the list didn’t suggest.

Nathair snorted at the eager look on her face and pushed her to go get all the books she desires. Quickly, she ran out of sight.

“Ravenclaw for sure,” Professor McGonagall whispered to herself, slightly disappointed at not being able to get Hermione in her own house. Nathair heard the comment, looking slightly startled before reminding himself that Ravenclaw is a house at Cræftgléaw.

Hermione came back with a stack of books as tall as she was. The books moved side to side, obviously unstable. She put the stack on the counter to be paid for. The cashier looked at it and sighed, as though it was a common sight.

“Do you have enough money for it?” The cashier asked the muggle-born.

“Yep!” Hermione said with enthusiasm. The cashier looked slightly shocked, before sighing once again, looking very done.

“Please sign your vault number here, it will take a bit of your magic to make sure it was you that signed it, or if you have a card, slide it here.” Hermione took out her card once again and slid it against the deceivingly wooden plank. A bell rang before the cashier put all the books in an expanded bag.  

Professor McGonagall came next in line and put all the school books down. She paid for it before putting the two sets in two different bags.

“Next we go to the potions shop for a pewter, standard size 2, cauldron, brass scales, and a set of glass vials for each of you,” She told the two.

The stop to that shop was quick, as they had a professor looking over their shoulders. They couldn’t pay and sneak the stuff they wanted to get away from her.

A telescope was next, something Nathair researched a lot about at age six. He has always been interested in Astronomy; especially in this day and age.

That stop ended as quickly as the potion stopped. Then came what they were eagerly waiting for, wands. Though they didn’t need wands anymore, they figured out that the magic they had before they were reincarnated was added to this body's magic reserves.

“Go in one at a time, getting a wand is a very sacred process,” Professor McGonagall warned. Nathair looked at Hermione, before agreeing to let him go first.

Nathair goes into the store, quietly. He looks around. There are shelves of wands in boxes, all messily stacked together.

“Hello? Hello?” Nathair said softly.

Then, a noise comes from the back, and a man appears on a ladder and looks at Nathair. His old eyes seemed to stare into his soul.

“I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Potter, or is it Slytherin?” The old man smiles. Nathair looked up at him surprised.

“Ollivander? You’re alive? Wait, of course, you’re alive! You’re a druid!” Nathair said, before hugging the old man.

“It was a surprise to see your soul outside the shop. I even had a whole script for you! Yet, of course, you ruined it,” Ollivander sighed.

“You can go on with the script, my old friend,” He smiled.

“Yes, of course. It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were here buying their first wands.” He picked up a wand, knowing it won’t fit him. It was always fun to annoy people with how long it takes. “Ah. Here we are.”

Nathair holds it and waves it around. This causes most of the boxes to come flying out and crashing down. Nathair jumps and hurriedly puts the wand back on the counter. 

“Apparently not.” Ollivander gets another wand from a box, “Perhaps this.” Nathair waves at a vase, which shatters, startling him. “No, no, definitely not! No matter…”

Ollivander gets one more wand from a box, but stops and becomes thoughtful. Nathair can see the mischief in his eyes. “I wonder…” He hands the wand to Nathair. Nothing happens once he touches it. “This would have worked for another Harry Potter, but not you of course.”

“Always dramatic I see,” Nathair said. Ollivander handed one more wand to him. He touched it and suddenly glowed under it, blowing his hair up and several of the paperwork in the background.

“It was one of the four I experimented with that has two kinds of wood. Of course, I’ve always wondered why I stopped at four, but maybe it’s because of you,” Ollivander started, “It has Maple and Alder wood with a Horned Serpent Horn. It’ll be seven gallons.”

Nathair put the seven gallons down and left with his new wand, practically skipping. Once he exited the building, he met up with Hermione and whispered what he learned so she wasn’t as surprised as she was.

“It’s your turn, Ms. Granger.” Hermione nodded and went into the shop. She came back out quickly with a wand with two kinds of wood; Sycamore and Black Walnut. She has a Phoenix Feather as the core.

The two of them had wide smiles on their faces, the wands feeling warm against their touch.

“Now, do either of you want an owl, cat, or toad?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Can I have an owl?” He asked. She nodded before looking at Hermione.

“I don’t want an animal this year, maybe in a few years.”

The visit soon came to an end with Nathair getting a beautiful white owl he named Hedwig. The two reincarnated promised to owl to each other, looking forward to meeting the other two that came with them.

Chapter Text

Ron walked around the neighborhood; the streets busy with activity. His clothes seemed to catch the attention of a few people, but he paid no mind to it. The sun on the back of his head made him relax. Being outside has always made him feel great. 

On the streets, he can people-watch without care. Each person who passed by seemed to hold a whole story in their hands. This sonder thought made him smile softly, remembering his friends. Ron hopes he finds them in Cræftgléaw. He has an inkling they were reborn on the same day they took the potion. So, they should be in the same year as him. Well...besides Ginny.

A person tripped and fifty pounds fell out of their pocket. He gets up before picking up the money and giving it to the man.

“You can keep it,” The man said, handing the money back like fifty dollars isn’t the big of a deal, “You deserve it for not keeping it for yourself.”

“Thank you!” Ron said while pocketing the money. He skipped back home, ready to tell his family his good fortune. Though, they might jump to conclusions about where he got the money. He hoped they would listen to reason.

The rickety building came into sight, looking like it was about to fall, Ron opened the door slowly. The creak of it startled him into stumbling on the ground. He catches himself before he falls.

“Mum? Dad?” Ron called out from the doorway. The signature rustling of pans stopped.

“Yes, honey?” His mother asked from the kitchen. She sounded distracted, likely making dinner.

“Someone gave me ten galleons worth in pounds,” Ron said. His knowledge of muggle money comes from his father's obsession with all things muggle.

“You made sure to thank them, right?” Molly Weasley asked. She can accept ten galleons, any more and she would probably refuse the money. She doesn’t want to be pitied or a charity case.

“Yes, I did,” Ron said, happy about the easy acceptance, “Can I get my own wand with it?”

“Hm, let me talk to your dad first. He should be home any minute now,” She said. It was around the time his father came home. A few minutes passed with only the sound of cooking going on. Fire flared from the fireplace and a man stepped through. A wide smile on his face. He came into the kitchen, smiling even more at the smell of food.

“Hello, honey,” Arthur Weasley said, happy to be home. Ron watched as he hugged his mother.

“Oh, I need to talk to you about something,” Molly backed off from the hug, stopping the touching scene, “Ron was given ten galleons worth of pounds from a stranger. He’s asking if he can use seven of those galleons for a wand. What do you think?”

“Maybe...It would be good for him to have his own wand,” He pondered. Laughter was heard up the stairs, he winced.

“I agree, he was the one that got the money too,” She said, trying to ignore the yelling happening upstairs.

“Is that a yes?” Ron asked, pleading with his eyes for it to be so. Molly and Arthur looked at each other, talking with their eyes like only people who knew each other a long time could do.

“It’s a yes. We can go after dinner,” Arthur said. His stomach growled at the mention of food.

“Yes!” Ron cheered to himself. The parents smiled at each other.

~~~~

Entering alone, Ron looked around the shop. He remembers how his brothers broke the vase at least once during their visit. It seemed to be a tradition when people got their wand. A crash came from behind him. He flinched at the noise.

“I didn’t expect you to come today,” Ollivander said. Ron turned around, noticing the Ollivander seemed familiar. He brushed it off as how his brothers described him.

“I’m here to get my wand,” Ron said, stating the obvious. He put down seven galleons that he got from Gringotts.

“Of course you are!” Ollivander laughed. He looked at Ron with nostalgia, probably remembering the last Weasley that came in. Ollivander left to rummage through the wands. “Here, the wood is Willow, fourteen inches with a unicorn hair core.”

Ron waved it around before the vase broke. He went through ten more wands before the wandmaker looked at him with compilation.

“Maybe, just maybe,” Ollivander went to the back to grab a wand. “I made three other wands like this. Two are already sold. There are two kinds of wood, Ash and Ebony with a Thunderbird Tail Feather.”

He waved the wand again before a glow enveloped him. Ron felt complete, the wand seems to connect to his very soul.

“Yes, yes, you will do great things, Mr. Gryffindor,” Ollivander winked while Ron gaped at him.

“Hold on! Merlin? You did change your name to Ollivander when we died,” Ron realized.

“Surprised at my occupation?” The mythical wizard said, his eyes twinkling. He’s glad that all of his old friends are coming back.

“Oh yes. I would have thought you’d hide in a less...noticeable place,” Ron said.

“The best hiders are the ones who hide in plain sight,” Ollivander smiled.

“I have to go, my parents are waiting for me,” Ron regrettably said, ending the conversation.

“Come back, I would love to catch up with you!” Ollivander called out as he left the store.

 Arthur and Molly looked at his wand, noticing the mitch match of colors. They didn’t ask about the properties as that’s usually something you don’t ask, even with family.

“How many wands did you try?” Molly asked. She had to try fifteen wands before her wand chose her.

“Twelve,” Ron said, handing the rest of the ten galleons to Arthur. He held them like a precious possession.

“I once had a friend that tried a hundred wands before a wand chose them,” Arthur laughed. That story was always funny to hear and tell. “Once he left the store, all the cases of wands were on the floor, the vase shattered in very tiny pieces, and some of the shelves had fallen over.”

Ron smiled at the story. He loved listening to the stories his family told him. They were always entertaining. Arthur looked at the sky before swearing.

“Merlin! We need to get home!” He said before pushing his wife and child out of the store before apparating home.

Chapter Text

Minerva McGonagall sighed in her office. Harry Potter didn't turn out like anything she expected. He seemed cold at the beginning, almost emotionless. She thought he would be like his father; mischievous and ready to cause trouble. If not that, then like his mother; soft and a little bit of a firecracker.

After the trip to Gringotts, she was confused at his sudden change in demeanor. He smiled a lot more, mostly at Hermione. They seemed like they'd known each other for years instead of barely meeting. The fond exasperation that she saw in his eyes at the bookstore was an example of that.

She took out a bottle of firewhiskey, about to open it when a phoenix came to her.

"Please come up to my office," Albus Dumbledore's voice rang out. Minerva sighed, knowing why he called her up. Stretching her old bones, she went up to the Headmaster's office. She looked at the gargoyle and started naming sweets. After a minute of it not moving, she knocked twice.

"Come in," Albus said. The gargoyle moved and she entered. "Oh! Minerva! Sit down."

"Albus, why did you call me up?" Minerva asked as she sat. Though she knew why it was still polite to ask.

"Can you give me what you noticed about Harry Potter?" Albus said, looking intently at her. Their eyes met before Minerva had to look down at a sudden headache she had. Pushing it aside as the confusion the trip gave her, she began.

"Well, I met up with Hermione Granger first; my schedule was surprisingly full for the day so I had to take her with Harry - or Nathair as he prefers. Harry was very closed off the first time I saw him, though quite agreeable to the existence of magic," Minerva stated, "We apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Hermione weren't as nauseous as other first-timers. Once at Diagon Alley, they were very awed at everything. We stopped at Gringotts for the money when the two of them were called to go alone somewhere."

"Why did you let them go alone? Goblins are tricky creatures and they might have been harmed," Albus asked, concerned. He still hasn’t forgiven his account manager for scolding him for buying too many lemon drops.

"I didn't want to anger the goblins as they seemed fairly serious for them to go alone. That would make future arrangements awkward." Albus hummed at the response before waving a hand for her to continue. "Anyway, once they came back, Harry seemed happier. The trip continued normally, though the two of them seemed attached to the hip. I wonder what happened with the goblins…"

"Wondering will get us nowhere. Though I worry that the goblins did something to make him more compliant," Albus' eyes stopped twinkling. It was a fairly realistic worry as goblins are tricky bastards. "Thank you for coming up here. You are dismissed."

Minerva nodded before leaving. Albus frowned once he was sure she wasn't in hearing distance.

"This isn't going according to plan!" He said to himself. With a wave of his wand, he summoned a glass of firewhiskey to his desk. "I needed him to be submissive so…” He sighed.

He dawned the glass before getting another one. Something happened in Gringotts and he wants to know what. He has half a mind to go down there and demand to see what they talked about to Harry. Rubbing his growing headache away, he summoned his Patronus to summon Severus Snape. This time he told him the password. While he waited, he downed three other glasses.

Ten minutes later, an angry Severus came up. He glared at Albus. "What do you want? I was in the middle of making a potion."

"Do you have Veritaserum?" Albus asked, his voice soft.

"Not in my current stock, but I could make some."

"Make some before the opening feast."

"Who is it for?" Severus asked uncertainty. Those potions are usually hard to make.

"Harry Potter," Albus said back, knowing the name will make him hate the boy even more. It was a sacrifice he had to make, he needed to know about the boy. Veritaserum can be stored up for years. He would patiently wait until the right moment to give it to the Potter.

"Potter!? Of course, even Potter's spawn has to make my life even harder. I should just-" He was cut off.

"Not right now, Severus. I need the most potent Veritaserum potion you have," Albus said. Inside his mind, he grimaced. He reminded himself this was for the better.

"I will go out to get it, though I need the ingredients.”

"What are the ingredients?" Albus asked. It’s been a while since he’s made the potion himself.

"Almost all the ingredients for Amortentia with pearl dust, a phoenix feather, and a branch from one of the oldest trees," Severus said, listing the ingredients from common to rare. The potion was very easy to memorize.

“That’s not what I remembered what the potion was like…” Albus asked suspiciously.

"It’s the more potent version," He scowled, "there should be no way for the victim to tell a lie.”

"Perfect, I can give you the phoenix feather with no problem while the branch will be harder," Albus said, already having some ideas for the branch. He could ask Nicolas Flamel for a favor and ask him to grab a branch for him...yes he will do wonderfully. After all, the branch wouldn't be any harder than the Philosopher's Stone. "I'll have it for you by August 1st."

"So, a month to make it?" Severus asked for confirmation.

"No, I want it stored."

“After you give me the branch, I’ll get right to it."

"Good," Albus said, nodding before dismissing him. The goblins were just a misstep on the plan. He can plan around it. Nodding to himself, he turned to his phoenix.

"Give me one of your feathers," Albus said. Fawkes sang, gliding down to Albus' desk before shedding a feather. It wasn't a big loss, after all. He wasn’t really loyal to anyone besides the founders of the school. Although, he did like Albus before he became what he is like now.

Which phoenix would be loyal to the one who's planning to betray one of his first owners? Not him, certainly. Never him.

Chapter Text

Hermione looked at her parents, tears dripping down her face. She ran to hug them. This was going to be the longest she’s going to be without them. Though she has Nathair, it’s not the same as complaining to her mum about bullies or how her dad threatens the kids to leave her be.

“I’ll miss you,” Her voice was muffled in her dad's shirt. Her dad made the hug tighter if that was even possible.

“Me too. Make sure to message us a few times a month,” Her mum said, choking back tears.

“I will,” Hermione left the hug, “Goodbye, mum, dad!”

“Goodbye! Make sure to have fun!” Her dad said and her mom repeated. She turned her back to them.

She walked towards station nine, hearing her parent's car engine start going in the distance. Groaning to herself as back in the past, they didn’t really have a train so she had no idea where to go. Looking around the station, she noticed a faintly familiar face.

“Hermione!” A voice called out. She looked closer.

“Nathair, you’re here! I thought I would have to find the entrance by myself,” Hermione said. Nathair carried a trunk behind him, looking relieved at a familiar face.

“Same here,” He said, exhausted. Together, they looked around for any hint of strange activity. A group of people in robes caught their attention. They looked at each other and watched what they did.

Hermione looked twice at them running through the brick wall showing where station nine was at. Looking at each other once more; they decided to follow what the people did. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and ran through the brick wall. Blinking her eyes open, she saw a whole new place. Families in robes wandered around and a big red train stood at the train tracks.

Nathair soon dragged her from her awed state onto the train. They looked around for a free compartment, eventually finding one in the back. Hermione took out a book from her trunk. The title ‘Protecting Your Mind’ interested her as Nathair and her need to keep their secrets to themselves. They didn’t have such things as Occulemency and Legilimency. The boy took out a book too; one called ‘How to Find Your Inner Animal’ . The person who sold it to him did so reluctantly, especially with his age.

Soon, the train lurched and started going. A knock on the compartment door interrupted their thoughts.

“You can come in!” The door opened and a boy awkwardly stood there. He had freckles dotting his face and red hair.

“Um, all the other compartments on this train cart are full, can I sit here?” He said, scratching the back of his head.

“Sure,” Nathair said. “I don’t mind.” Hermione nodded and the boy let out a sigh of relief. An awkward silence followed, only interrupted by pages turning.

“What are your guys’ names? I’m Ron Weasley,” The boy eventually said.

“I’m Nathair, or Harry Potter as you might know me,” Nathair said. Ron looked surprised before narrowing his eyes.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” Hermione said.

“When is your birthday, Hermione?” Ron said with a pondering face. The girl looked confused.

“September nineteenth,” She said suspiciously. Ron pumped his fist into the air.

“Salazar, Rowena?” Ron smiled.

“Godric?” Nathair asked, unsure. The other boy nodded before they laughed.

“It’s good to see you!” Ron said. He didn’t think he would find them this early. He’s glad to see the two of them.

“How did you know?” Hermione asked, always searching for knowledge. 

“You took the potion on the same day as the day you were reborn,” Ron said. Finally, something she didn’t know but he did!

“Ah, that makes sense. I was confused as to why you asked for my birthday,” Hermione said.

“How have you been?” Nathair asked.

“I could be better. Luckily, Helga and I were born in the same family,” Ron said, “How about you guys?”

“It was hard to adjust to this time period. All the new knowledge the mundane have collected is fantastic! Did you know that-”

“Slow down, I also want to hear from Sala-Nathair.”

“Ah, sorry,” Hermione apologized.

“Anyway, how about you?” Ron asked Nathair.

“Confused at first, especially after my new parents died. Magic was hidden and nothing was really the same. My relatives didn’t really like magic either so I had to keep that on the down-low. When they took me to the orphanage though, I could study all about this new world,” Nathair said. It was so easy to collect information with all the technology around.

Someone opened the door, distracting them from their conversation.

“Have any of you seen Harry Potter?” The boy sneered. The trio looked at each other before shaking their heads in unison. “Of course not! Especially with Weasley with you!”

The boy left, slamming the door shut.

“Rude,” Hermione huffed, “Who did he think he was?”

“I think that was a Malfoy. My family has a long-standing feud with them,” Ron said.

“Why?” Nathair curiously asked.

“Something about stealing, I wasn’t really listening,” Ron waved his hand, “I just know that they hate mundane-blessed.”

Hermione and Nathair hummed, both of them curious about the feud. They soon went to their books, with Ron asking questions every so often.
Once more, something interrupted their thoughts, this time a hesitant knock. Ron said they could come in. A plump boy came in, looking around nervously. The boy whispered something inaudible.

“Can you speak louder?” Hermione asked.

“Um...h-have any of you seen a toad…” The boy whispered.

“No, maybe you could ask a prefect that’s on this part of the train?” Ron said, knowing more about the train. The boy nodded before leaving quickly. He forgot to close the door, leaving it open for them to see a lady with a trolley of sweets coming.

"Anything from the trolley, dears? Pumpkin Pasty? Chocolate Frog? Cauldron Cake?" The lady asked. Hermione and Ron shook their heads and the lady looked towards Nathair.

“Can I have one of each?” Nathair asked. The lady nodded, giving the treats to him before leaving. An assortment of treats sat next to him. Ron looked eagerly at the chocolate frog. “You can have half of my frog?”

“Sure!” Ron happily said, opening the chocolate frog. It jumped out, surprising the two mundane raised. He caught the frog before snapping it in half. Ron ate one of the halves, giving the other one to Nathair.

The rest of the trip was spent eating and talking. They happily conversed about the different treats; especially Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. That was an adventure to taste.

Chapter Text

The train’s horn went off, signaling it was coming to a stop. All of the first years slowly went off the train, looking around for a sign as to where to go. Their confusion was soon cleared by a giant man coming out with a lantern in hand.
“Right, then! First years! This way, please! Come on, now, don't be shy! Come on now, hurry up!” Hagrid shouted, making the first years follow him like ducklings. He leads them through a narrow path. “Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec. Jus' round this bend here”

There was a tense silence as the first years eagerly tried to catch a sight of the castle. Their eyes widened when it came into viewing; its beautiful towers gleamed in the cloudy sky. Everyone ‘oohed’ and ‘awed’ at the sight.

As everyone was looking at the castle, they didn’t notice they’d arrived at a vast lake with boats waiting to be boarded.

“No more 'n four to a boat!” Hagrid said, pointing towards the boats with a giant finger. Nathair, Hermione, and Ron came onto the boat with the boy that asked about the toad. Their smiles were large, the feeling of home washing over them.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then— FORWARD!" The man smiled at the first years’ wide eyes.

The boats soon started to glide over the water, nobody feeling the waves that were under them. Hogwarts stood over them on a cliffside that was getting closer and closer to them.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled to those who didn’t notice the hanging ivy above them. After going under the curtain of ivy, they went through a dark tunnel. The sleek black walls felt wet from the water under them.

People started to climb out of the boats when they arrived at a dark harbor with pebbles and rocks. A croak startled Hagrid and checked the boats for anything missing. Spotting something green, he looked at a toad sitting patiently on one of the boats.

“Oy! Who’s toad ‘s thi’?” Hagrid asked the crowd, holding up the toad.

“Trevor!” The boy next to the trio said blissfully, holding out his hands. The toad jumped into them.

“Didn’t you ask the prefects to summon it?” Hermione asked the boy.

“No...I was too nervous,” The boy whispered shyly. She nodded before catching up to the rest of the group. They soon exited the cave to soft damp grass and the sun shining in their face. The first years’ soon walked up smooth stone steps to the entrance of the castle.

“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?” The giant said before knocking on the oak door three times. It swung open, showing them Professor McGonagall, the stern-faced woman that showed Nathair and Hermione around Diagon Alley.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid stated the obvious.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” The woman said, guiding them through the door to the entrance hall. Nostalgia lit the trio’s faces. Hundreds of voices were heard from the doorway to the fight. Nathair expected them to go straight through the door, but Professor McGonagall brought them into a small, empty chamber off the hall. It was a little cramped, but everyone could fit, although standing closer to each other than comfortable.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall announced, “ The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. 

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

 “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. ” 

(Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 7)

The Professor's gaze lingered on some people who were not tidied up, showing that she was talking to them. “I shall return when we are ready for you,” Professor McGonagall said, “Please wait quietly.”

Nathair smiled up at the woman who returned it with a slight twitch of her lips. Soon, she left and the trio huddled together.

“I hope they still have the sorting hat,” Nathair said to the other two. They both nodded, the hat was a very special project of theirs.

“My family wouldn’t tell me about the sorting - something about a tradition, but my brothers, Fred and George, said we’d have to battle a troll. They’re pranksters so they were probably joking,” Ron said.

Nathair winced at the prankster comment, remembering the times the four of them pranked the school for a week. The students returned the pranks with a ferocious drive for revenge. That was not a good week.

A wisp of something startled him from his reminiscing. Startled shouts came from behind him.

“What the-?” He gasped at the sight of ghosts in front of him. That was a new development…

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-” What seemed like a fat little monk said.

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?” A ghost that seemed to be from the Victorian Era noticed them. His speech sounded like it was rehearsed.

Nobody answered the ghost, all of them still shocked from the ghosts.

“New students!” the Fat Friar said, smiling around at them, “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

Only a few nodded, their mouths shut tight.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” The Friar said, “My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” A familiar sharp voice said, “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.” 

Professor McGonagall returned, startling the intense stare down the students were having with the students. The ghosts exited from the opposite side, through the wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.” 

All of the first years walked slowly, trying to shake out of their shock. They went back through the hall and into the door that had the voices they heard.

Hundreds of students looked at the first years, eager to see who would join their house. Nathair looked up and saw the black velvet night sky with stars glittering brightly.

“I remember enchanting that,” Hermione whispered with a slight smile. The two boys looked at her proudly. The ceiling was a hard project for her - it took a year to get the arithmetic equations right. The spell work was a bit faster to do, but just as hard.

Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool at the front of the students. She placed a witch hat on it, its dirty cloth making some cringe.

The three reincarnated founders smiled at the familiar hat. It does look a few shades darker, probably from all the dirt that gathered throughout the years.

A rip from the brim of the hat and it began to sing. Its song was quite catchy - some of the students hummed to the tune. The song ended and applause rang out. The hat bowed to the students before going still like it was just a regular hat.

“They’re still here!” Ron said, smiling at the hat. Professor McGonagall stepped up beside the hat with a long roll of parchment in hand. 

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said, “Abbott, Hannah!” 

A girl with a pink face and blond pigtails went up to the stool and put on the hat. It covered her eyes.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat shouted.

 The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Ron smiled at the table and saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her

“Bones, Susan!” went to Hufflepuff as well, sitting next to the first girl that was sorted.

Four more names were shouted before Hermione was called up. She practically ran up in excitement. Slamming the hat down, she let down a few of her Occlumency walls.

“Mrs. Ravenclaw!” The hat shouted in her head, “I didn’t know you’ll be here…”

“Well, it’s been a thousand years since we took the potion,” Hermione said.

“Who else is here? Have you found the other three?” The hat asked excitedly.

“Salazar and Godric! Helga won’t come until next year, sadly.”

The hat practically vibrated, making that outside in the hall look in confusion. “You should obviously be in Ravenclaw.”

“I agree. The three of us agreed to go to Ravenclaw because it’s the most neutral house of the time.”

“Hmm, ok,” The hat somehow nodded in her head. “RAVENCLAW!”

 The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Hermione as she joined them. 

A few more names were passed before “Potter, Nathair,” was called up. Hermione winked at him.

“Hah! Of course, you would be the expected Gryffindor Golden Boy,” The hat laughed.

“Yes, yes, I know my luck is terrible,” He rolled his eyes.

“Mrs. Ravenclaw told me to bring all of you to her house, correct?”

“Yes, I will catch up with you when I get the chance,” He promised when the hat called out his new house.

“You better,” The hat grumbled. Nathair laughed. Whispers followed him. He bet that Minerva announced his birth name to the hall.

Next came Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad on the train. He nervously went up, each step hesitant. Putting the hat on, a few seconds pass before “GRYFFINDOR!” was announced.

Five more people passed before “Malfoy, Draco!” was called up, a swagger in each step. The boy was the same one from the train, with his slick blond hair that probably used a lot of gel and hairspray.

“SLYTHERIN!” The boy smirked as he went to the green table. Nathair groaned at the boy who went to his house.

A few more names were passed before “Potter, Nathair,” was called up. Hermione winked at him.

“Hah! Of course, you would be the expected Gryffindor Golden Boy, ” The hat laughed.

“Yes, yes, I know my luck is terrible,” He rolled his eyes.

“Mrs. Ravenclaw told me to bring all of you to her house, correct?”

“Yes, I will catch up with you when I get the chance,” He promised when the hat called out his new house.

“You better,” The hat grumbled. Nathair laughed. Whispers followed him. He bet that Minerva announced his birth name to the hall.

People looked at him weirdly at his changed name. While he kept his last name, his first name was not something they were expecting. Especially as they were thinking his name was Harry. Nathair personally prefers the name he got at the orphanage.

“Weasley, Ron!” Professor McGonagall called up the second to last person. He played with the hems of his robe as he went up to the hat. Most expected him to go straight to Gryffindor, so it was surprising when a few seconds passed before it announced “RAVENCLAW!”

The whispers almost seemed to be shouting with how loud the tables were. Albus Dumbledore clapped his hands to silence the hall. 

“Welcome,” he said, “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

He sat back down while the students cheered. Nathair didn't know if he should laugh or not.

“Is he a bit mad?” He asked the most knowledgeable about the current Wizarding World amongst the three, Ron.

“Maybe, I haven’t really researched much about him…” Ron said, looking at the head table weirdly. Shaking his head, he went to grab the food in front of him. The food was a bit fatty than he liked. 

His fellow Ravenclaws were talking amongst each other with fervor. A ghost stayed at the side of the table, distant. She seemed familiar, looking a little like Hermione in her past life. Shaking off the thought, he continued to eat and talk with Ron and Hermione.

 “Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

 “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

 Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

 “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

 “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

 “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 7)

After that eerie warning, he began singing a song. With everyone going at different speeds and tones, it became a headache to listen to.

“Ah, music,” Headmaster Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” 

Everyone got up, looking to the older years for guidance. A prefect got everyone to the door for the Ravenclaw dorms. A riddle was said by the door knocker and the prefect answered it; the door opened. Hermione looked approvingly at all the books gathered on the shelves that surround the common room.

The prefect said which dorm is for each gender before making them get to bed. Ron and Nathair went up the stairs. They both instantly slept once they lay on the beds.

Chapter Text

Draco was bored, his eyes twitching ever so often. The train was long and boring with only Gregory and Vincent for company. Although they have an average IQ, they weren’t made for great conversations. He might have wandered to find Harry Potter if he had any idea where he was. The train was big and full of students so he’d have to go through every cabin to find The-Boy-Who-Lived.

He scoffed at the ridiculous name the public gave Potter. They should have congratulated the parents instead of the baby - that would make more sense than just him magically redirecting the Killing Curse. 

“Harry Potter is in Cabin Twelve!” A boy barged in to announce. Draco smiled, finally something interesting to do. He got up, the other two boys following his lead. He watched as others crowded around the cabin, all too shy to actually go in.

Draco opened the door and looked around the cabin. There was a boy with red hair and freckles - probably a Weasley, a girl with brown hair that curled messily, and a boy with black hair.

“Have any of you seen Harry Potter?” He sneered around, looking for any sign of the boy. The three people shook their heads in unison. “Of course not! Especially with Weasley with you!”

He shut the door, turning around to the crowd of people. Scowling in displeasure, he announced that the boy wasn’t there. There was a groan of disappointment before everyone left. Stomping towards his own cabin, he sat there waiting for the train ride to end. The eight-hour ride seemed to go for days instead of hours.

--------

Neville looked around nervously, tapping his fingers against his shirt. The boat went towards Hogwarts. It finally stopped with a jerk. He glanced up in surprise before seeing everyone getting out. Hurrying up, he heard someone yell about a toad. Looking around, he was surprised that his toad was in the giant's hand.

He went shyly to the giant and grabbed his toad then scampered off quickly. The walk to the Great Hall was loud with whispers. Everyone was speculating how they were going to do the sorting. He heard something about battling a troll and he shuddered. Neville hoped not.

With a jump, he looked around when ghosts came out of the wall. Their conversations were over quickly once Professor McGonagall came out to get them from the room. 

He sighed in relief once it was revealed to be a hat that sorted them. Though, with this realization came another new source of anxiety. What if he was actually a squib? Would the hat shout that into the hall? His thoughts wandered until his name was called up. He nervously went up and shoved the hat on his head.

“Interesting…” The hat said in his head, “ You have a lot of magical potential. GRYFFINDOR! Will help you with bringing it out .”

Before he said anything, the hat was off his head. He went to the Gryffindor table in shock.

------

Susan watched the next person that came up with boredom. The first time that she stood up for attention was with Harry Potter not showing up - at least until Professor McGonagall told them about Nathair’s birth name. She probably didn’t want people to worry about Harry Potter not showing up. The second time was when Ron Weasley was called up and sorted to Ravenclaw. Shaking the weird sorting out of her head, she began to eat her food.

------

Terry Boot looked around the common room in shock. It was paradise! The books that were on the shelves seemed to entice him to read. A loud conversation to his side made his intention waver from his surroundings. Three people at the side of the room were having an argument - a loud one by the sound of it.

“You mean…you kept a secret chamber under the school!?” A girl with bushy hair practically yelled.

“Yeah, ‘Ryan, why did you never tell us?” A boy with red hair stated reasonably.

“Uh, it was an impulse decision that I just kind of forgot to tell you?” A familiar boy scratched the back of his head.

“You have to show us that tomorrow. Probably after breakfast.” The redhead said.

“Ugh...fine, tomorrow after breakfast then,” The black-haired boy said.

“Now, let’s go to bed,” The bush-haired girl said, pushing them towards their side of the dorm.

Terry Boot looked at the three weirdly before going back to examining the room. Although, that conversation was in the back of his mind.

-----

Not every book can be judged by its cover. Blaise Zabini knows this very well. With the many fake people he interacted with, he can safely tell when people are lying or not - a product of his curiosity. So, when Harry Potter, or as he goes by now, Nathair Potter, with his little ducklings quickly escaped the hall, he was curious.

He followed them quietly. Through hallways and classrooms, they went. That is until they stopped at a girl’s bathroom. All three of them entered, Blaise went in slowly. The embarrassment of being in the girl’s bathroom getting to him.

Nathair hissed at the sink and it opened. The shock of the boy-who-lived as a parselmouth quickly disappeared once he realized that there was a hidden chamber under the school. Before he could enter, the door closed suddenly, knowing he was an intruder.

Those three are very curious people…and he wants to know more.

—

Nathair looked around the room nervously. He hoped that his snake wasn’t out yet. She must be crazy from loneliness and boredom. It wouldn’t be a great first impression with his friends. He promised himself that he would reveal his snake to the others once Helga comes.

—

(Loathing and Intrigue.)

Most of the older Slytherins felt anger at Harry Potter. Some of the younger felt intrigued with the boy they’ve only known in stories and ranting on their parents.

(Hunger and Curiosity.)

The Ravenclaws felt a hunger for knowledge of their two new classmates. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were supposed to go to Gryffindor. Something happened for them to go to Ravenclaw.

(Apathy.)

Hufflepuffs usually stay out of conflicts - they felt nothing with the fact that a Weasley went to a different house. Although…they were wondering how Harry Potter went to Ravenclaw.

(Mixed…)

The Gryffindors felt mixed. Three were worried for their little brother. Some were angry at the fact that the boy who lived didn’t go to their house. Others didn’t really care.

Chapter Text

Nathair could feel the stares on the back of his head while he ate. He tried to ignore it, but the number of eyes on him seemed to make it their duty to put his focus on them. Some courageous souls even came up to him to ask for an autograph or to look at his scar. His two friends tried to shoo them away, but they were stubborn in their approach.

When breakfast finally ended, he let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully, the stares would end in class. He looked down at his schedule and saw Charms were first. It was with Hufflepuff. Helga must be lonely - all alone with only her new parents. 

Shaking his head, he went up and walked towards the Charms room number; 99. The stairs of the castle led him towards the room. Nathair thanked the castle with Hermione and Ron, getting weird looks from passersby.

They entered the classroom and noticed themselves as the first people to arrive. The teacher - Professor Flitwick - looked surprised at how quickly they got there. His small stature was set upon several books, allowing him to oversee the classroom.

A few minutes passed before more people trickled in. Finally, the class started. Professor Flitwick started role-call - squeaking and stumbling over Nathair’s name. It ended with everyone appearing.

“Who has already read the charms book?” Professor Flitwick asked the class. About five hands were raised, including the three founders. The professor nodded, putting the names of the people who’ve read in his mind. “Today we’ll learn the beginning theory of all spells. What are the four rules needed to cast a spell?” Eleven people raised their hands. “Hannah Abbot, tell me one of the rules,” Professor Flitwick called.

“Uh, I think one’s wand movement?” Hannah hesitantly said.

“Correct! Terry Boot, another one please.”

“Ah, Determination?” Terry Boot said.

“Close - we usually call it Will Power,” Professor Flitwick corrected. “Hermione Granger?”

“Incantation!” Hermione said confidently, back straight.

“Correct! Susan Bones, tell me the last one.”

“Probably concentration,” Susan said.

“Correct, five points to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw!” Professor Flitwick beamed at the class. “Why do you think we need these four? Nathair Potter, answer.”

“Um, you need the incantation and wand movement to direct your intent on what you want the spell to be,” Nathair said.

“What about the other two?”

“You need willpower to - uh because the spell wouldn’t work if you don’t really want it to? Concentration is needed to also direct your intent and also - for example, transfiguration - you need to picture what you want.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw,” Professor Flitwick said, “For the well-thought-out answer! Now, focus on these four rules for the spell I’m about to teach you. The Levitation Charm is one of the first spells learned by any young witch or wizard. With the charm, a witch or wizard can make things fly with the flick of a wand. The charm is an excellent test of your magical skills, wand control, and above all, patience.” He slowly waved his wand in a motion that looked like a sideways two over a feather. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The feather floated up and started to dance around the room.

“Ooo,” The class said, impressed at the simple magic.

“You probably already noticed a feather on your desk, practice this spell. I’m not expecting you to get it on the first day of class – it is a fairly difficult spell for the first day,” He said. The class started the spell, most of them failing. One noticeable incident was when a student from Hufflepuff managed the make the feather fall through the desk. Professor Flitwick was noticeably impressed but didn’t gift any points to the student. It was the direct opposite of what the spell was supposed to do.

Nathair narrowed his eyes at the feather. It should be easy for him, but as he hasn’t had the muscle memory or the control from his last life it was only a little easier than a regular first year.

“Oh, would you look at that! Hermione has done it!” Professor Flitwick announced, “Ten points to Ravenclaw for being the first to get it right!”

Hermione started helping others on the feather. Susan Bones got the feather floating next, earning five points to Hufflepuff. Finally, Professor Flitwick dismissed the class.

“What class do we have next?” Ron asked, looking over Hermione’s shoulder.

“A free period, after that is Transfiguration with Hufflepuff again,” Hermione said. They looked at each other.

“Want to explore?” Nathair asked, curious about the differences in the castle since their first life. The other two nodded and then they went off.

—

There was nothing new - besides the changing stairs. Cræftgléaw used to be not as sentient as it is now. They checked the time and saw that it was almost time for transfiguration. It was in class one on the first floor.

They walked quickly to the classroom as the class was just about to start. They were just on time to not be scolded. The cat on the desk turned into the teacher, Professor McGonagall. Nathair looked in surprise, turning into animals wasn’t a skill that was available to them.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall started, “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.” She turned the desk into a pig and back again into a desk.

“How did you turn into a cat?” Hermione asked after the professor called her up to answer.

“Ah, that is something you will learn in your NEWTs year,” She said before starting onto a lecture, “There are twenty-six letters in the English alphabet, there are twenty-six symbols of transfiguration for each of these letters. Though we won’t be getting into that in this class, as it is something you study in Ancient Runes, it’s still important to note down. Now, the transformation formula, is that the intended transformation is directly influenced by bodyweight, viciousness, wand power, concentration, and imagination. You will find these five influences in your book. Study them and then once comfortable enough, turn the matchstick in front of you in a needle.”

The class nodded before going to their books. It was a dry read, with barely any pictures. Although it had some interesting facts if you looked closely enough. By the end of the class, only Hermione, Ron, and Nathair got the matchstick to turn silver and be a little pointy. They each got a point for changing it at least a little.

The professor dismissed them, leaving them to their own devices.

—

The next class was Herbology with Gryffindor after lunch. Not a lot happened as it was just theory - Professor Sprout didn’t trust them with plants yet. A student next to them, Neville Longbottom, did the best in the class.

All three of them privately thought that Helga, or Ginny, would most enjoy this class. They got no points in the class - Gryffindor did get some, but only because of Neville. 

That was the last class of the day with dinner coming right after it. It was a nice but fatty dinner. Finally, night came upon them and they got ready to sleep.

“Goodnight, Ron, Hermione,” Nathair said. The two receivers said goodnight back. It was a good end of the day.

(Never would they think that the next classes would be the exact opposite of the classes that day…)