"Congratulations on your admission! I am the prefect, Robert Hilliard, and I'm happy to welcome you to the Ravenclaw House. Our emblem is the eagle, which soars to places others can't reach. The colors of our house are blue and bronze. Our common room is located at the top of the Ravenclaw Tower, behind a door with an enchanted doorknob. From the arched windows of our common room, you can see the lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch, and the greenhouses."
"Without boasting, I'd like to say that we have some of the smartest witches and wizards in our house. Unlike other houses, which have hidden entrances to their common rooms, we don't need them."
"Another interesting feature of Ravenclaw is that our students are true individuals. Some of them could even be called eccentrics. But often, geniuses don't walk in step with regular people, and unlike some other houses, we could say that here, you have the right to wear what you like, believe in what you want, and say what you feel."
"As for our relations with other houses: you've probably heard of Slytherin. Not all of them are bad, but it's better to be cautious until you get to know a Slytherin student well. According to their long-standing traditions, they do everything possible to win. So be careful, especially during Quidditch matches and exams."
"Ah, yes, our house ghost is the Grey Lady. The other students believe that she never speaks, but she's happy to converse with Ravenclaw students. Her help is particularly useful when you've lost something or even lost your way."
"I'm sure you'll sleep well. Our dormitories are located in the towers adjacent to the main one. Each room has four beds, covered with silk, down-filled blankets of sky blue, and the sound of the wind whistling through the windows is very relaxing."
Our prefect really didn't want to boast, but for now, it all seemed like boasting. As I was already told at the table in the Great Hall, the curriculum for all houses is the same, which completely undermines the point of having these houses. There are also points awarded for certain "actions." Correct answers to teachers' questions, good work, or winning a Quidditch match can earn your house a few dozen points, while breaking the rules or slacking off in class will deduct points from the whole house. Thus, the system makes one person's achievements count as a collective victory for the house, but the failures of the house are not recognized, because it's always one person who breaks the rules!
This inherently flawed system, created by the founders, probably served some immediate purpose back in the day, but now it's definitely outdated and is nothing more than a tradition. A foolish measure, especially given the "Statute of Secrecy."
The law passed three hundred years ago concealed magic and wizards from the rest of the world. This makes sense when all the wizards unite around a single idea—Muggles are advancing, they're becoming more! We must unite, or they will overpower us with their numbers. In Neverland, the Conclave of Wizards was created for a similar purpose, initially as a union of craftsmen, to protect their social and labor rights. In this way, the Conclave monopolized magic, set prices for spells, and firmly suppressed any attempts by the authorities or the church to interfere with wizards. Something similar happened here, but on a much larger scale. With one small caveat.
The wizards cut themselves off from the rest of the world, almost not interacting with ordinary people. They gave them the name "Muggles," positioning them as inferior in status. But it turned out that wasn't enough. After completing the formation of the Statute, they began to argue among themselves about who had the "bluest blood." Having built the world's order on separation from the rest of the world, what did they hope for afterward? In Hogwarts, there's even a separate subject—Muggle Studies—because after three centuries of isolation, the local wizards have forgotten how to interact with regular people. Meanwhile, humanity isn't standing still, advancing by leaps and bounds. Soon, some of the wizards' unique abilities will no longer be so unique, with no equivalent in the Muggle world. Moreover, these idiots don't even keep their finger on the pulse of mortal rulers, despite the fact that they have nuclear weapons. In Neverland, had there been no wizards, humanity would hardly have settled on the continent. It was us who held back the monsters at first, before we created the Witchers. We healed, built cities, commanded the weather, prevented epidemics. We didn't allow kings to kill each other when they first arrived. We stopped the power-hungry rulers who fancied themselves masters of the world. What did the schism of the Conclave lead to? That's right, another war. And what about here? The world is bigger, and the people too. Two world wars within a twenty-year gap. Such events are even reflected in the Muggle Studies textbook. I wonder, did the wizards learn any lesson from the two wars, or do they need a third one?
When the prefect led us to the Ravenclaw Tower, all the first-years were full of impressions but were tired. Those who had already formed interest groups settled together in adjacent towers. I remained in the main tower, answering the children's questions. Everyone was incredibly curious about how I survived that night. I'd like to know that myself. The parasite I absorbed didn't provide any knowledge or power. Its abilities were too insignificant, and it didn't even possess a mind. It didn't seem like it could help me find my parents' killer.
I was also asked to show the scar, which had faded quite a bit over the month. I didn't stop trying to fully cure my poor vision either. It was progressing slowly, but I was making progress. I think I'll be able to manage it by the end of the year. I fixed the missing eye, so I'll handle this too.
Time eventually took its toll, and it was time for the older students to sleep. I didn't want to stay any longer in the common room. I took one last look at the view from the arched windows. The darkness didn't bother me, wizard or not, and I went to find my room. To my great fortune, I found a small tower, just for one person. A tiny cell, five by five meters, desperately needed a deep clean, but even I was exhausted after the whole day on the train and the noisy company of children, so without even making sure of my safety, I threw a few protective charms and collapsed into bed.
I woke up before dawn. I had work to do before the first lessons of magic in my new life—cleaning. I used a sound-dampening charm and quickly cleaned the tower. Once done, I began drawing a universal seal on the floor. It doesn't require much strength, just skill. And I had plenty of that. Afterward, I began laying down protective charms. One by one, I built up layers of protection on the walls of the room. I enchanted the door with anti-locking charms, applying a specialized hexagram to it. Not only did it protect the door, but it allowed me to perform a number of manipulations with it. For example, I could make the door transparent from my side, allowing me to see everything happening in the common room.
I finished just in time, as the first-years began waking up and gathering in the common room. The prefect had to show us the way so we wouldn't get lost. Hogwarts looked like a gigantic, majestic castle from the outside, but inside, that feeling was magnified tenfold. I suspect someone had been playing with spatial magic.
Gathered as a group, the first-year students of Ravenclaw, led by Robert, headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Already on the way, I started hearing whispers behind my back, and not just from students from other houses.
"There he is, look!"
"Where?"
"Over there, next to Hilliard, the Ravenclaw prefect."
"Is he the one with glasses? I can't make out his scar, maybe we should go closer?"
If the Ravenclaws had somewhat gotten used to my presence in their house, then in the Great Hall, as I entered, all the students began to murmur, and yesterday's acquaintances were already rushing toward me.
"You lied to us!" Ron voiced his obvious opinion.
"Technically, no."
"You're Harry Potter, and you introduced yourself as James Bond." At Ron's remark, someone snorted, probably a Muggle-born student.
"Ron, please, quieter, you're attracting too much attention." The boy quieted down, looking around and noticing that the whole hall was staring at us.
"Do you get it now?" Judging by his lowered head and the desire to disappear into the ground, he certainly understood. "Oh yes, my full name is Harry James Potter. So the lie, I'd say, is half-true. If you don't mind, I'd like to eat before class. Good morning, Neville, Hermione." I walked past the kids and headed to the house table.
The food was excellent, just like last night. That's the beauty of real food — you never know what they'll surprise you with next. Then came the lessons. Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Herbology, Flying on Brooms, Potions, and Transfiguration — these were the subjects for the first two years, for all four houses.
Today's schedule only had Transfiguration and Herbology, with two double lessons with Hufflepuff. As I entered the classroom, I noticed a strange cat lying on the teacher's desk, immediately realizing who it was. Apparently, our dear professor was also a polymorph. A rare art in Neverland.
Sitting at a desk, I started looking around, deliberately pretending not to understand what was going on. As it turned out, the whole fuss had been made for the latecomers, who, despite the prefect's clear instructions, still managed to arrive late.
"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic that you will study at Hogwarts," she began. "Any disruption of discipline in my lessons — and the violator will be removed from the class and will never return. I have warned you."
We were made to cast spells on the very first day, to taste the secret knowledge right from the doorstep, so to speak. Recalling my magical studies in Neverland, I can say without false modesty: I was good, magic came to me faster than to the others, but even so, on my own, I managed to cast a spell only after a year and a half of study. These were the simplest luminescent charms! Of course, things got more fun later, but these kids were handed a wand and told, "Cast, here it is — magic!"
The whole class was given spells and shown the correct wand movements over a match, after previously demonstrating the power of Transfiguration. The professor turned the desk into a pig. This is where I was really struck.
The art of transforming one substance into another wasn't new to me, but it only concerned inanimate matter changing into another form, or turning living organisms into non-living ones, through artifact compression or simple petrification charms, but this… This was a completely different kind of magic. So, I applied myself the most in Transfiguration, learning the formulas by heart, although I already knew their shortened versions from the textbooks of higher years. If you compare my knowledge with the spells from this world, I'd be an archmage, unable to cast a regular fireball.
The class went well, and by the end of the second lesson, I had already turned a whole pack of matches into silver and gold needles, which once again attracted envious glances from the kids toward my modest self. I understand it would have been easier not to reveal my cards so soon, but these wizards had created a tale around me that they themselves believed in. They found the answer to the question of where my power came from, and even McGonagall couldn't hold back her surprised sigh. In a few days, rumors began to spread and multiply throughout Hogwarts, filled with conviction that I had indeed managed to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
The second day had equally interesting lessons, particularly Potions. These lessons were taught by Professor Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin. He entered the class without even glancing at the students until he reached the desk. For some reason, Severus Snape hated me from the very first second he read my name in the register. I can feel hidden notes of hatred like no one else.
"Oh, yes," he muttered softly. "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity."
After finishing the roll call, the Potions professor began explaining what these lessons were about. I have to give him credit, he managed to control the crowd of kids and intrigue them with potions so well that it seemed like he had enchanted them with the very potions he was talking about.
"Potter!" Snape suddenly turned his head toward me and asked, "What will happen if I mix powdered asphodel root with wormwood tincture?"
"A sleeping potion, professor, quite powerful, and therefore called the Draught of Living Death."
The professor was momentarily stunned. Why? Did he really think that a child who had spent eleven years with Muggles, suddenly learning about the secrets of magic, and that he himself was a wizard, wouldn't study magical tomes to the core? No, something else was going on. And Snape didn't stop, meanwhile.
"If I ask you to bring me a bezoar stone, where would you look for it?" he asked more quietly.
"A bezoar is a stone that can be found in a goat's stomach. It is used to create certain antidotes."
"Well, Potter, what's the difference between wolf's bane and monkshood?" Snape asked the final question.
"They're the same plant, called aconite, also known as wolfsbane."
"Surprisingly, you answered all three questions correctly. Five points to Ravenclaw."
Next, the professor divided the students into pairs. The number of students in the class turned out to be odd. Guess who got lucky enough to be left alone? Severus Snape clearly had it in for me, but I was very grateful to him for this move. Now I wouldn't have to share the laurels of success in the lesson with the other kids. If he left me without a partner, it was some kind of devious attempt to mess with me, and the professor was definitely suffering from something. The main thing was that he didn't let himself go too far. I haven't killed anyone in my second life yet, and I don't want to start with teachers.
The lessons ended at lunchtime, where at the Ravenclaw table, they were already gossiping about the great Harry Potter. The gossip stopped when the owls flew into the Great Hall, dropping the mail into the laps of the students. As expected, nothing was delivered to me. Even if the Dursleys had owls for mail, it's unlikely they'd have suddenly developed any affection for me during my absence. I officially had nothing to do until evening, but my entire school year was scheduled down to the minute. The first couple of days, I decided to dedicate to searching for training rooms or similar spaces. I decided to ask the prefect for advice. I found Robert in the common room. The guy was talking to a girl about what was clearly a romantic matter, so I had to wait until he paid attention to me.
"Can I help you with something, Harry?"
"Yes, I have a request. Could you tell me where the training rooms are in Hogwarts?" I figured, since Hogwarts is a large castle, it's unlikely that rooms meant for training would be tiny spaces. But apparently, Hilliard understood me differently.
"Potter, you're still too young, first-years aren't allowed to play Quidditch. The pitch is located..." This idiot was so eager to flirt with his lady that he didn't even register my words. Eventually, I managed to find out where the office of our house's head of department was. I hadn't met Flitwick, whom the headmaster introduced yesterday, yet, since the Charms lessons he teaches would begin tomorrow.
Robert, pointing in a direction, advised me on how to get to the eighth floor, where Professor Filius Flitwick's office was located. It probably took me about thirty minutes to reach the eighth floor. Moving staircases, confusing corridors, and misleading instructions from the portraits would have annoyed anyone, especially small children, but I'm not a child. Death changes your perception of the world.
When I reached the top floor, I walked along the windows, counting them. The office I was looking for was near the western tower, the thirteenth window from the right. At first, I wanted to get to Flitwick as quickly as possible, but then I decided to look around. The eighth floor was empty, as was most of Hogwarts. Such a huge castle housed only a tiny number of students.
As I observed each office on the eighth floor, I returned to the beginning of the corridor a couple of times, comparing one room to another, looking for the most suitable one for training. Several rooms seemed well enchanted, capable of withstanding powerful magic without breaking. A suitable space, except that it couldn't be re-enchanted for concealment. That meant my training sessions would soon become public knowledge. A shame, but I had to discard another option.
After my failure, I set off to find Flitwick, coming up with a plausible explanation on the go. My attention was drawn to a section of the wall, though I'm not sure why exactly, but I stopped. When I got closer, it became clear — the wall was hiding another room, but I could swear it hadn't been there before. A strange anomaly.
As if reading my thoughts — and as it turned out later, it indeed was — the bas-relief on the wall became clearer, acquiring volume, turning black, and standing out more and more against the rest of the wall until it took the shape of a door, which immediately swung open before me. And inside… The perfect training hall: along the walls were stands with various weapons, in the center were training dummies and a couple of golems, like those on the roof and in the halls of the castle.
The suddenly appeared hall met all my requests for long, grueling training. It seemed as if it had been specially created for me and my magic. It strongly resembled... the training hall in Stigga Castle!