Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Jack,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
[UNIFORM] First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note: All pupil's clothes should carry name tags
[BOOKS] All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
[OTHER EQUIPMENT]
1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 1 set of glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
Upon reading the letter, Jack was quite surprised. The concept of a magic school was not new to him; such institutions existed during his time, albeit not as formalized.
Keeping his composure (much to the satisfaction of Duke, who believes a noble should remain unflustered), Jack elegantly placed the letter on the table.
"Father, shall I be attending Hogwarts immediately? I mean, I've heard there are decent magic schools in Germany as well," Jack casually mentioned, having perused quite a few magic books in his free time. Of course, to the butler, it seemed young Master Ludwig couldn't make sense of any of the spells within.
Jack couldn't help but wonder, just how simple-minded was the original owner of this body? Could his intelligence truly be comparable to that of a troll?
Duke took a sip of his coffee—Ludwig did have a talent for brewing it.
"Yes, my son. We've already had your clothes tailored; Madame Malkin did the work. They should be delivered to Ludwig Manor in a few days. If not for Dumbledore's rules, I would prefer the handiwork of Mrs. Rod, the housekeeper's wife, who is a remarkable seamstress. As for your wand, I'm afraid it would be best for your mother to accompany you to Diagon Alley."
"They say in England, 'the wand chooses the wizard!'" Duke mimicked Mr. Ollivander's tone.
Honestly, Jack found it amusing—he had to admit, his father had quite the talent for sarcasm.
"That sounds quite interesting, Father," Jack maintained a calm demeanor fitting of a young scion of a magical family. It's not like people like the original Jack would show curiosity about Diagon Alley.
Yet, Jack was incredibly curious; he felt as if a mischievous black cat was tickling his heart. Why a black cat? My dear, would you expect a wizard to keep a white one?
Jack was particularly intrigued about the wand. Sure, in his time, wands were around, but they weren't common. You could cast spells with a crystal ball, a magic book, or just your bare hands.
Like Jack—he could just flick his finger and a cuddly skeleton would appear behind his father (for the record, Jack's taste was quite normal; he preferred a voluptuous banshee over bones any day).
It seemed as though with the advancement of time, the methods of spell-casting had regressed; wandless magic was becoming a sign of mastery.
Mr. Ludwig seemed to think the father-son chat had gone on long enough; even nobility must learn the virtue of silence, right?
So he waved his hand, "It's getting late, Jack. You should probably start reviewing your lessons. I don't want to receive any news of you being held back a year."
Jack thus returned to his room gracefully.
His room was spacious and tidy, thanks to the help of the house-elves.
Speaking of house-elves, Jack couldn't help feeling rather pleased; their loyalty reminded him of his cherished undead minions.
Those many considered eerie beings were far more reliable than humans—they never betrayed him.
Cautiously approaching the window to ensure there were no surveillance spells, Jack drew the curtains.
The room plunged into darkness.
Sneakily, he lifted a floorboard in a corner, underneath which he had cast a sophisticated concealment charm to avoid detection by the house-elves or the butler.
Below the floorboard was a dead rat—by Merlin, the thing was already decomposing.
However, this didn't disgust Jack; instead, a madness-like flame sparked in his eyes.
Just as many priests had described, Jack was a thoroughgoing madman, a necrophiliac!
Oh, how he adored that title! However, he must clarify, he was no necrophiliac; he preferred women, their soft and fragrant bodies over the dead.
A woman's scent was definitely more pleasant than a corpse's, right?
Jack carefully caste a Sealing Charm on his door, rigorously placing the dead rat in front of him, and donned a pair of dragon-hide gloves, presumably those that he was supposed to take to Hogwarts.
Lifting the dead rat and inspecting it, Jack confirmed that it bore no diseases or ailments.
"A fine specimen for experimentation," Jack preferred healthy bodies, hence his perplexity towards the Church's loathing for him.
He dubbed himself a scientist, a life scholar.
Death, after all, signifies eternity, doesn't it?
"Toxic Injection!" Jack utilized a wandless spell.
The static rat corpse obligingly jerked, then dissolved into a puddle of green pus.
Jack frowned instinctively; he did not want this mess on his gloves—dragon hide, no less!
"Jack! What are you up to in there! That is, Malfoy has come to visit you!"
Mrs. Ludwig's voice ascended from downstairs, amplified, no doubt, by a sonorous spell.
He couldn't imagine a lady of elegance bellowing, only uncouth Muggles behaved thusly.