Year 1 Part 4

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“Why did our first class have to be with the bloody badgers?”

The annoyed complaint came from Vesta Malfoy as she walked a few steps ahead of me. There were eight other Slytherins with us, the same ones Professor Morgan had marked out. According to our timetable for this first week, this was to be the housemates I had classes with, at least for the first week.

The schedule we had for it wasn’t anywhere near as full as I’d expected but as it was simply an introductory period there was some logic to keeping it quieter than it should be. It granted us time to get acquainted with where the classes were, who our professors were going to be, and time to explore the castle – or at least what was open to First Years – at our leisure. I intended to do just that, but for now, on the morning after the Sorting, we had our first class: Introduction to Magic.

From the title, it didn’t take a genius to determine what it would be about. Everything that should be handled by this class, and the four others we had during the week, had already been introduced and taught to me. From how we needed to meditate on the magic that flowed through me to unlock the various pathways within ourselves, to the wonders that magic could unlock if we dedicated ourselves to our craft. The same would undoubtedly be true for my Slytherin classmates, though given we were having the class with a group of Hufflepuffs – the house that took the largest concentration of muggleborns – I doubted the same was true for them.

Now, there was logic in ensuring that everyone started from the same footing, however, I knew it was classes like this that caused many born in the magical world to dislike that things had to be slowed down and explained carefully to muggleborns new to our world. There were better ways to handle such introductions, starting with setting up simple workshops with new students arranged in Diagon Alley over the summer before term started. Yet, at the same time, I could see why various factions in the Wizengamot, with a focus on those claiming to be Traditionalist or Progressive, would be against it.

Traditionalists would fear that creating such classes suggested the magical world was moving to embrace the muggle one, and that it would eventually replace our laws and customs. On the other hand, Progressives would feel such classes would exclude muggleborns in some way from integrating into our society. Both views were, in my opinion, flawed but there was little I could do about changing things currently.

“Could be worse, we could have it with the Lions.” That had come from Enya Delaney and drew a withering gaze from Vesta. Or what would be a withering gaze if it weren’t coming from an eleven-year-old.

“We do,” the Malfoy girl shot back. “Charms and Transfiguration.” That was proof she’d read the full schedule as the Transfiguration classes didn’t begin until Thursday. We’d have to see if that schedule, or at least which classes we shared with which houses, lasted into the proper schedule.

“So long as they’re not just a group of deluded muggleborns or those who espouse muggle views, it should be liveable.”

My head snapped to Godwine after his comment and groaned loudly. “You do realise you’ve just jinxed us, right?” I muttered, shaking my head as Vesta turned her venom toward the boy.

Godwine’s eyes widened. “I mean, it’s not lik…” his words were cut off as we rounded the final corner to the classroom and saw a group of ten overly excited Hufflepuffs standing outside. None of them matched any records I’d been given about my year-mates, but since I’d only gotten detailed reports regarding those from powerful families, that wasn’t a huge surprise. What confirmed my fears, which were shared by the others, was that two held muggle notebooks in their hands.

“You were saying?” Francis asked when Godwine let his sentence stay unfinished.

“It could be worse. I mean…”

“Don’t!” I snapped, turning on him to add my annoyed glare to those others were sending his way. “We know it could be worse; we just don’t need you tempting magic to make it so.”

“As shocking as it is for me to say, MacLeod is right, Suthsax. You might want to listen to him.” I wasn’t sure why Lauren Hungerford seemed irritated that I was correct, but I left the gentle dig slide. I’d have to investigate House Hungerford to see if there was some bad blood between them and Clan MacLeod first.

Godwine nodded, conceding the point, and we all turned back to resume our walk. Amycus had, instead of offering words on the matter, used the moment to slip to the front of our group, once more thinking there was some importance in being the one to lead the way. To me, that just meant he was the most expendable as the lead body was often the first targeted; or at least that was how things had played out in any game I’d ever played before merging into this universe.

“Hello,” one of the badgers said once we were closer, a wide smile on his face as he waved at us. “Nice to meet new schoolmates.” At the front of our group, I saw Amycus’ hand twitch, as if he were going to commit a faux pax and draw his wand on the badger. He didn’t, but it was another little sign, as if I needed any after my first night in Hogwarts, that he was ardently anti-muggle and muggleborn. That would be an issue going forward, and not just in Hogwarts, as one day, Merlin help me, he was going to become Lord of a Most Ancient House. While removing an heir from another house often caused a blood feud between the houses, there was a good chance I’d be looking into ways to arrange an accident for that prat.

“It is, but perhaps we might enter the classroom. The Professor is likely waiting for us.” The diplomatic response came from Adilene Pontius.

Before she or anyone else could say anything, the door swung open. “Come in, come in,” an excited female voice called out from inside.

The Hufflepuffs were closer to the door, but Amycus wasn’t going to let them enter before him. He didn’t push anyone out of the way, but by marching forward aggressively, he caused the first few badgers to hesitate, allowing the prat the honour of being the first to enter. If that was going to be a common feature of the year, then it provided multiple opportunities to prank the dumb fuck, provided of course that I could ensure no actual blame was assigned to me.

Seeing the confused, and in some cases hurt expressions on the badgers, I decided to try and diplomatically smooth over the issue. “You’ll have to excuse him; he insists on walking around like a peacock. Must be because he keeps his wand holstered somewhere unpleasant.”

My comment drew a few amused chuckles from the Hufflepuffs, at least those who understood the meaning, and a snort of laughter from Aline Munro. The words had carried to Amycus as he snapped around, glaring back at me but given he was now in full view of the professor, while my voice shouldn’t have carried, there was little he could do about my embarrassing him in front of muggleborns right now.

Yes, showing such disunity was something Professor Morgan had insisted we didn’t do, but given the general dislike for the Carrow heir, it wouldn’t take much to ensure he did something publicly, ensuring he suffered the majority of the Professor’s punishment. Whatever that might be. Still, if I continued to push Amycus’ buttons, hopefully to the point he acted out publicly and cost us house points, then I would undermine what little standing he had within Slytherin.

With the moment over, the rest of us filtered in, we Slytherins staying back from the Hufflepuffs so that they entered first. That choice had come from Vesta, hinting that she wanted to distance herself from Amycus, or at least make clear that she disliked him more than she did me.

Once in the classroom, my eyes swept around it. The room was generally bare, save for four benches behind tables on the sides of the room, and an array of bookshelves – most empty – at the far end. The professor, a young-looking female with curly brown hair and an amused glint in her eyes, watched as we moved into the room. “Welcome one and all. Please, take a seat.” She said while gesturing at the benches.

Each house moved to one side of the room, and we were quickly seated. Amusingly, the girls from each house sat together at their benches, ensuring the boys had to do the same. Thankfully, I was at the far end of my bench from Amycus, the other three boys between us. What was interesting was the flash of annoyance that rushed over the Professor’s face at the houses keeping to themselves.

“Welcome to Introduction to Magic,” she said, making sure she could see all of us. “My name is Jane Doe,” I coughed there, drawing her gaze even as she continued, “and beyond being a junior Professor of Charms, I’ll be your teacher for these classes.” She clapped her hands together. “Now, how many of you are new to the magical world?” her gaze turned toward the Hufflepuffs since the odds of a muggleborn in Slytherin were so remote that it wasn’t worth considering. Nine hands rose from the badgers’ benches, drawing a smile from her. “And how many of you already know of the concept of magical pathways?”

Every hand on the Slytherin side of the room rose, as did the hand of the one badger who wasn’t new to our world. My brow rose, however, when one of the muggleborns kept their hand upright. That was unexpected, and potentially worth investigating if the opportunity presented itself going forward. Hufflepuffs might be regarded as the weakest house, but their ideals of loyalty could be useful if that allegiance were toward me and my goals.

Professor Doe clapped her hands together, her smile widening as she gazed at the muggleborn who knew about Pathways. “Excellent. Please lower your hands.” We did as asked. “For those who don’t know, magical pathways are exactly what their name suggests. They’re routes through our bodies down which we can channel and focus magic; not just that within, but the ambient magic of the world around us. Every magical creature, from all of us here, through those like goblins, dwarves, and elves, to nifflers, hippogriffs, and dragons, has magic flowing through their very being.

“What our pathways allow us to do is harness and focus that magic to do incredible things you might never have, even in your wildest dreams. The greater the magic within you, and that you can channel from the world around you, the greater the wonders you can perform. With your pathways fully open, then even if you ever encounter an area devoid of magic, your ability to cast will not be instantly gone.”

I’d heard this speech, in a few different forms, before. However, the concept that there were areas devoid of magic always drew my attention. Not so much because they existed, but how they were formed. A monumental calamity or battle had to have taken place in one location for a good amount of time to destroy magic in the area and leave it inhospitable to anything that was powered by magic.

There were no such places in the Isles, however there were several in the Middle East; remnants of battles so ancient that the causes had been lost to the ravages of history. That it was possible to destroy magic in an area was downright scary, and something I’d prefer muggleborns never learnt of as in theory, it could be used against the magical world if war ever broke out with muggles.

“Each of you, simply by being invited to Hogwarts, possess immense potential for wielding and shaping magic. However, potential alone is next to worthless. To become all that you can be, you must learn not just a variety of spells, charms, hexes, and jinxes, but how to unlock every ounce of your potential and then train diligently for years, if not decades or centuries.” Professor Doe stepped forward, her wand moving gently at her side as a shimmering silver light formed at the tip. “If you can achieve that, then the world is your oyster.”

She stopped speaking as her wand movements became more pronounced. The light flowed from her wand toward the pace in front of her. There, before our eyes, the shimmering silver light dulled and coalesced into a rough human form.

“Right now, simply by displaying accidental magic over the last eleven years, you have all unlocked your primary pathway.” The ethereal figure she’d created became clearer, and over the heart, a gentle white light pulsed. “However, using just this alone will limit your ability to cast. Even some First-Year spells will be hard to manage as brilliantly as they can be cast with just the primary pathway unlocked.”

From that bright light, six thick lines slithered through the body, each heading to a different location even as Professor Doe moved around the floating figure. “In First Year, you will learn techniques designed to help you unlock the other six major pathways that lay within you. However, be aware that doing so early is both extremely unlikely and potentially fatal.

“To harness and manipulate every iota of magic that flows in and through you, you need to be both physically and mentally mature. Even when you reach that point, if you lack the skill, dedication, and determination to keep pushing your limits, you’ll fail to ever become the witch or wizard you are capable of becoming.”

As she finished that part of her spiel, which was informative and impressively blunt, the flows from the central pathway coalesced at the head, hands, feet, and most amusingly groin. From my lessons on the subject with my tutors, ancestors, aunts, and others, this wasn’t what the pathways actually looked like, but it was a useful way of visually showing the pathways, and something that helped reinforce much of what I already knew on the subject.

“When you eventually open all seven of your base pathways, you’ll discover the truth of your potential. Every witch and wizard is different. Some have wider pathways, allowing them to draw more magic through their systems with each passing second. This allows them to cast more and larger spells in succession, however it doesn’t grant them control. That comes from having deeper pathways. Those also allow one to focus the magic they draw, granting them the chance to cast spells few can match. The challenge that faces you, even those who have had their potential mapped,” she glanced toward the Slytherin benches expecting, as did I, that we’d all been tested for potential, “is unlocking every inch of your major pathways, plotting the minor ones, and becoming all that you can be.”

From each of the seven highlighted parts of the ethereal body, thinner vines of light slithered outward, forming what seemed like a secondary nervous system within the figure. Before I could focus on those smaller pathways and what they might mean – as they hadn’t been covered in detail by anyone before – Professor Doe flicked her wand.

The body swirled around, merged, and then spread out in a wide circle facing toward the ceiling.

“If you commit yourselves to your studies, dedicate your efforts to unlocking every pathway that flows through you, and push yourselves to your very limits then there is little that will be beyond you. At that point, if you are capable you might one day prove worthy of learning some of the deeper mysteries of our world.”

From the disk, shapes began to rise, swirling in and out of the mist like phantoms emerging from another realm. They coalesced rapidly, forming the unmistakable outline of a city—though its architecture was unlike anything I had ever laid eyes on before, as though drawn from the pages of a forgotten era, lost to time.

“Perhaps you might be the one to locate places of legend that are claimed to exist within our world, such as Akilineq, Dinas Affararon, or Celliwig.” Professor Doe’s voice echoed through the air as the ethereal cityscape twisted and morphed before us. The mist undulated, reshaping into visions of places as she spoke, each one more breathtaking than the last. I could only guess if these were the fabled locations she referenced, but the sheer grandeur of each was undeniable. They stood as if suspended between the known and the mystical, each an impossible dream made tangible.

"Or perhaps," her voice softened, "if you devote yourself, you might learn the secrets of cities carved into mountains, like the legendary Shangri-La." The mist began to compress, a mountain rising from its depths, towering and vast. We were pulled closer, the illusion enveloping us, racing towards the rock face as if to collide. Yet at the last moment, the stone parted, revealing a hidden world—an exquisite city of East Asian design, shimmering with gold and crimson, nestled within the heart of the mountain like a jewel in a crown.

"Or a city buried beneath the ocean's depths, like Atlantis?" The mist churned again, this time dissolving into a deep, cerulean blue. Out of the depths emerged towering columns and domes of classical Greek architecture, weathered by the sea but still regal, as though time had no hold here. Schools of dolphins, whales, and other sea creatures drifted lazily between the buildings, casting their graceful shadows upon the ruins—silent guardians of a forgotten civilization.

"Or even a city that drifts among the clouds, immune to the forces of nature and mankind alike, like Akhet." The mist lightened into soft, swirling clouds, from which a floating city materialized, its spires reaching for the heavens. The structures were unlike anything I had ever seen, ethereal yet solid, floating on the clouds as though the air itself held them aloft. The city seemed to defy the very laws of gravity, untouched by the world below.

Around me, there was only silence. We stood enraptured, transfixed by the magic that Professor Doe wielded with such ease. Each scene was meticulously crafted, yet her effortless conjuring made it appear as though the mist itself possessed the knowledge of these ancient places.

“Perhaps,” she continued her words drawing me away from the marvel of the imagery, “for those with the greatest potential and desire, you might uncover lands hidden even from the eyes of the magical world. Places like Themiskyra, Kvenland, Shambhala, and Avalon, where isolated magical peoples keep themselves pure and untouched by the outside world.”

With each name, the mist shifted and danced. A Greek-influenced island arose, bathed in the warm glow of the Mediterranean sun, followed by a realm of frozen peaks, shrouded in a perpetual winter. Then came the towering pagodas of Shambhala, rising far above the clouds, their peaks lost in the heavens. Finally, a British-style castle appeared, perched high on a hill, surrounded by endless fields of apples—a vision straight out of the tales of Avalon.

“Or perhaps you will uncover the truly mythic, lands thought to exist only in legend—Alfheim, Tír na nÓg, or Fusang.” The images formed, but these were more elusive, fading in and out of the mist, half-formed. A glimpse of light-filled groves, glistening waterfalls, and shadowy, ancient forests teased at the edges of the display, as if these places were truly beyond reach, even for magic.

The mist swirled into a tight ball, shimmering for a brief moment before exploding outward in a brilliant burst. My arm instinctively rose to shield my eyes, though no dazzling light followed. Instead, the mist spread out, caressing my skin as it passed, cool and soothing, like the breath of a forgotten wind.

As the mist dissipated, leaving only the memory of what had been, I lowered my arm, still awash in awe. Some of these lands, I had heard of before, scattered throughout the texts and tomes of my castle’s library. But others... others were new to me, and though they were no more than myth, I knew I would seek them out—adding them to my ever-growing list of places to explore, should my path lead that far.

“Before you can even consider seeking out such places,” Professor Doe continued, drawing my attention – and that of the other students in the room, back to her, “or decide to study the deeper magic of the world around you, you must first open your mind, body, and soul. You must embrace magic within and around you in its entirety, understand how it connects with and through you, and push yourself to the very limits of what you are capable of.

“In this class, and others throughout your first year at Hogwarts, we will focus on the basics of achieving that. After that, the drive must come from within yourselves, though I and most of the other Professors will be open to helping and guiding you if you desire. Yet never forget that to achieve anything in this world, regardless of how and where you were born,” she looked directly at me as if challenging me to rise above my position as Chief MacLeod and become something more, “you must walk your path alone. No two witches or wizards are the same. Even identical twins who share matching features have different voyages ahead of them, guided and aided by magic itself. The pathways within you are different from everyone around you, regardless of if your potential is identical.”

Her gaze took in each of us in turn as if seeking to look directly into our souls. I felt no threats pushing against my mental defences, nor did the torc on my arm react to a threat, yet in the instant where her eyes found mine, I felt as if she could see every molecule within me, dissecting it with but the barest of effort.

“The question that lies before you, not just in this class but with every step you take going forward at Hogwarts and beyond, is whether you are willing to work toward becoming everything you can be, and perhaps even more. If not,” her arm snapped out and the door we’d arrived through flung itself open, slamming loudly into the wall and causing a few of my classmates to jerk back in shock, “I suggest you return to your dormitory, collect your belongs and depart for a school that won’t push you every second of each day. Hogwarts is not alive, but the magic that flows through the earth beneath our feet knows when those drawing upon that power are worthy or not. It will not tolerate the presence of those unwilling to push themselves to become better. Neither will I or your fellow Professors.”

She stopped there, the door wide open, challenging us to break and run. That was not what I’d expected from her when we’d entered the room, but that kind, nurturing presence had vanished, replaced by a cold iron against which even time would fail to break it down. That sort of mental strength, from someone that I believed was a muggleborn, was impressive and perhaps a sign that my thoughts regarding those not born into the magical world might have some truth.

That she was someone working for Dumbledore, and therefore likely a firm believer in his ideals, made her rhetoric more unexpected. She spoke more like a disciple of Grindelwald than a follower of Dumbledore, and that difference between what I expected to what I was seeing was something I’d have to investigate in the coming years. If time allowed me, as I already had an insanely long list of things I had to research, prepare for, and plan out.

After nearly a minute, nobody stood though there had been a few Hufflepuffs who looked uncertain, and I swore I heard one of the girls on my side of the room gulp loudly.

“Good.” With that single word, the door slammed shut, again causing a few students to react in shock. “Now we may begin your lesson.” Her wand swished out and I watched as twenty books rose from shelves behind her. As they came to land in front of each of us, I read the title.

An Introduction to Magic was about as bland a topic as one could expect for such a book, and it was one I’d already read before and long since added to the massive library I had created in my mind palace. Or at least the beginnings of one that I was forming. I’d yet to fully develop the skill to create such a place, but with Emotionless Recall I was able to store everything I’d read. Or at least anything I was willing to add to those stores.

Glancing around I saw that my fellow Slytherins were enthused with the class, any concern with our Professor being potentially muggleborn lost in with her impressive and impassioned speech. Aline Munro caught me looking around our side of the class and offered me the faintest of amused smiles before returning her attention to her book.

I did likewise, wondering how Professor Doe would make the book interesting. It was a very dry read, and one I had little interest in being subjected to again. However, the Professor had shown herself worthy of my attention so I would endure the book for her benefit and in the hopes that she might offer some new insight into what I could do to accelerate unlocking my pathways.

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I sat quietly, seemingly immersed in the Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) at a quiet, yet not remote desk in Hogwarts Library while Xenocrates rested against my side, one hand gently scratching him behind the ear. The Librarian had tracked my entrance, as she and her staff had done several times already, but beyond that stayed at her desk. From there she had a clear view over most of the ground floor of the library, save down the various aisles that ran from the central open area.

There was an upper floor, but that was only available to students in Fourth Year and above, ensuring they had a quiet area to study away from the lower years. It also created the clear sense that they were above the lower years, which given most would’ve unlocked some of their pathways and they had far greater repositories of magic, was true. Currently, the only group up there was one of Sixth Year Ravenclaws, the only one I recognized was Angus MacLean, the heir of Clan MacLean, He had been the first-born son of the second-born son, but after the SSM he had become the new heir of the heir for Clan MacLean.

Beyond knowing him in passing from Gatherings, he had been the first from outside Slytherin to approach me about mentorship. As with the other nine offers, I hadn’t confirmed acceptance, but so far he was one I was leaning toward accepting. A fellow Chief of a Highland Clan would be a useful ally to have in the years to come, though the same was true of everyone who’d offered to mentor me. Save Bellatrix.

Hers was the only one I had accepted, mainly because it would help assure Arcturus that I wasn’t being influenced by the other Houses seeking to draw me away from House Black. However, I wouldn’t deny that the idea of getting closer to Bellatrix, perhaps enough to dissuade her from joining Voldemort’s Death Eaters, was one worth pursuing.

Anything else I might think about, regardless of how gorgeous she was, was off the table. While not public yet, I knew Bellatrix was betrothed to Rodolphus Lestrange. The Sixth Year was an arse, unworthy of Bellatrix’s hand, yet the agreement had been decided upon by Arcturus and Lord Lestrange. It wasn’t yet official, but it would be by the Winter break as Bellatrix would’ve turned sixteen. At that point, they could be officially published by the Ministry, which was meant to know of them when both parties were thirteen but often wasn’t informed by many Clans and Houses, publicly.

Marriage had to take place a few years after both parties had graduated Hogwarts – usually two years, but sometimes up to five depending on the careers the parties were studying for – though there were often ‘outs’ placed in a contract to enable one party to end the agreement. Such outs weren’t public knowledge, but from how Bellatrix spoke, she knew of ways out of her agreement. I wanted to help her, but currently, I suspected that any way that I might help her would only result in my death. As much as I disliked Rodolphus, I knew that if we duelled he’d wipe the floor with me without breaking a sweat, which meant that if I was to stop the marriage, I had perhaps four years to do so.

Pushing that thought from my head, my gaze shifted around the library and as had happened every time I’d entered the library, it ended up at the entrance to the Forbidden Section. How I was going to get in there was unknown, and a question I was sure every student at Hogwarts wondered about, but it was one of an exceptionally lengthy list of things I had to handle over the next seven years. Today, and probably for the next few years at least, it wasn’t my reason for being in the library.

I was here waiting on Andrew MacLeod. The night of our first full day at Hogwarts I’d sent the muggleborn who shared my clan name a letter via my owl Ajax as if we might meet in the library on Wednesday, which was tonight. I’d set a general time of around seven for him to arrive, and if he didn’t respond I would consider the meeting taking place.

Perhaps I was rude to force him to come, but I had to face the issue of a muggleborn with my Clan name quickly. Technically, as I didn’t hold my seat in the Wizengamot, I didn’t have to deal with the issue of a muggleborn bearing my Clan’s name. However, I knew that others wouldn’t let the matter drop, with the most obvious being Amycus Carrow, potentially granting him and others an avenue to attack and undermine my standing in Slytherin.

I doubted anyone would call me a muggle lover, but given I was also friends with Bradley Cooper, going so far as to tutor him on the rules and customs of Magical Britain and Ireland, it was something I was going to have to manage. Ideally, I wanted to use at least Bradley to show that not all muggleborns sought to change our world to mirror the muggle one, just as not all purebloods hated muggleborns, but it was going to be a long, slow, and arduous journey to convince most of my housemates of that. Never mind the rest of wizarding society.

Regarding Andrew, there were two paths I could take. Either he agreed that once he graduated he would join my Clan as a cadet branch, or I would be forced to submit paperwork to the Ministry insisting that he was unworthy of joining my Clan and forcing him, at least until he was old enough to change his name legally, to become Andrew Nemo.

I would prefer if the former of the two options were what he chose as it was while it could be seen as me showing muggle-loving tendencies, it was a path most Clans and Houses took. The few who didn’t were those who generally were much more ardent backers of the blood purity ideal such as Houses Black, Lestrange, and Malfoy. That said there were rumours that several former figures who had held the title of Lady Malfoy had been half-bloods though at the point that their children would still be classed as purebloods. Given that several of them had also come from other countries, with a preference for those from the Magical French Republic and the Norse League, it was hard to be certain if the rumours were anything but that.

If I was forced to remove the MacLeod name from Andrew, then I knew I’d be dragged into Dumbledore’s office. The matter was Clan one, but as it was taking place at Hogwarts I could see the Headmaster seeking to intervene based on offering support to a young Chief. That was complete hogwash, but I’d rather not have my first meeting with him be one that saw us standing on opposite sides. First impressions mattered and as much as I didn’t plan to follow his ideals, it was wise to not make such a powerful enemy during my first year at Hogwarts. For all it proclaimed to be a school for children, it hadn’t started that way and accidents, as rare as they were, did happen.

Interestingly, after speaking with Aunt Moire and a handful of others, I learnt there had been a muggleborn MacGregor at Hogwarts when Callum MacGregor had become Chief of his clan. However, the matter had existed before his ascension to the role, and the muggleborn had been adopted into the Clan by his father before his death, alongside my parents, siblings, and many others at the SSM.

Callum was the sort of arse that might seek, for petty reasons, to expel the muggleborn from his Clan. However, the expulsion of a cadet branch of any Clan or House that was less than ten generations old had to be voted on by the Wizengamot. That did technically interfere with Clan/House business, but it was done to avoid the muggleborn and half-blood branches of a Clan or House being treated like cattle by their pureblood overlords. Of course, the change in law to allow that had resulted in some Clans and Houses supposedly forcing cadet branches into nothing more than indentured servitude for the main branch with no way – bar the complete extermination of the branch – for them to gain their freedom.

“Hm-hmm.” The clearing of someone’s throat drew me from my thoughts and I saw two figures on the other side of the table I was using. The younger was Andrew, but the older – a Fourth Year Ravenclaw – was unknown. He did, however, share a similarity to Andrew suggesting some familial connection. “You wished to speak with us?”

My brow rose slightly, both at the older boy suggesting I wished to speak with both of them and the complete bluntness of his tone. There was no civility or courtesy one would expect when speaking to a Chief or Lord. While this eagle was a Fourth Year, it seemed he had shown no interest in learning wizarding customs which was just embarrassing and would no doubt see him offend the wrong person at the wrong time.

“I wished to speak with Andrew here,” I replied calmly as I closed my book, “regarding customs of our world. I remain uncertain as to why you are involving yourself in a private affair.”

“Andrew’s my brother.” That explained it. “If you’re going to do something to him, you’ll have to go through me first.” Xeno’s head came up and his ears flattened down, hissing lightly at the older muggleborn.

I chuckled. “Threatening a Chief is a dangerous choice to make, even if I’m the youngest ever Chief since at least the founding of Hogwarts.” That was technically true as there had been a boy of six who’d become Chief of his clan in the twelfth century. Sadly for him, he was killed before the Wizard’s Council could confirm his position and grant him their protection as had been done for me by the Wizengamot. “However, since you are his brother, something I was not made aware of,” no doubt Dumbledore’s doing, “then this matter concerns you as well.”

Ewan grasped his wand in his hand though had the common sense to not point it at me. “If you are going to draw your wand I would advise against it. Beyond the fact you would be, if you are fortunate, sent to Azkaban for the rest of your natural life for attacking someone under the Wizengamot’s protection, we are in the school library and the rules were quite clear on the usage of wands within its chamber. I would expect a Fourth Year, even a muggleborn one such as yourself, to be aware of the school rules at the very least.

“I thought pets weren’t allowed in the library,” Andrew asked, shifting my attention to him and away from his either over-protective or arrogant – possibly both – brother.

“Pets aren’t. Xenocrates, however, is my familiar,” I explained. “Something that few if any other students have.”

“Really?” Andrew took a step forward, angling around the table, “cool!”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Andrew!” The brother snarled, grasping Andrew’s shoulder, and pulling him back. “He’s a Slytherin! They hate muggles!”

“My opinion on muggles is a personal one, but I have valid reasons for it,” I said slowly, not wanting to draw on memories of my brief time under the tender mercies of the Sisters at the orphanage. “Regardless of that, neither of you are muggles; something I would expect one of Lady Ravenclaw’s flock to understand.” Perhaps it wasn’t wise to rile up the older muggleborn, but it was clear his opinion of me was already set, trusting the words of others without confirming them himself.

He had yet to properly introduce himself, act with any decorum, or show the respect he should hold for my position as Chief MacLeod. The last was a minor matter as such things weren’t meant to be observed at Hogwarts, but I would expect a hint of respect from him in future if he wanted any chance to become No-One.

“I would remind you that not all Slytherins are bad. Merlin himself was sorted into our house,” I added, mentioning the most famous Slytherin beyond Salazar.

The fact that Merlin had lived before Hogwarts was created at first as a refuge from muggles and then a school had bugged me for a long time. After doing some research, I’d discovered that the reason he had been sorted was that he had at different points in his and their lives, tutored and mentored each of the Founders. To test the Sorting Hat, Merlin agreed to be the first to be sorted, and his presence in Slytherin had caused Salazar joy. According to the scholars, most of whom held Lord Salazar in a negative light, this had been something he had held over the head of the others, especially Godric Gryffindor and formed part of the breaking in their friendship, and then Salazar’s departure from Hogwarts.

Interestingly, older texts – those generally from more than five hundred years ago – mentioned that it wasn’t because of a hatred of muggleborns that Salazar had left. Those books suggested it was the matter of muggles and how to deal with them, particularly those who were parents of witches and wizards, that was the driving matter in the destruction of the accord between the Founders.

“A mistake,” the brother spat even as he pulled his brother back to the far side of the table I was still sitting at.

“I would say the Sorting Hat doesn’t make mistakes, but then again…” My words trailed off as I let my eyes roam over his face. I waved my hand dismissing the topic. “Regardless, since you’re also a MacLeod, this meeting concerns you as much as it does your brother. However, I warn you that there are customs and traditions that will be observed from this moment forward. First and foremost is that, when we discuss Clan business, I expect to be addressed by my title. At least until we are better acquainted. To do otherwise is an insult that can result in duels to the death.” That was unlikely, but I was hoping the brother would take the bait.

“I’d wipe the floor with you!” Said brother snarled.

I smirked, entirely unconcerned by what was, technically, a threat against my person. “More than likely. However, as I have yet to complete my OWLs, I’m not allowed to engage in honour duels, certainly not those involving my position as Chief MacLeod. Instead, I can call upon any one of nearly a hundred Chiefs and Lords who before the Wizengamot swore to protect me from threats against my person. Do you have any preference of which Chief or Lord you wish to face in a duel to the death?” The brother’s face froze, his brain clearly unable to process the shit he’d walked into. “Well? Who would you like to be your executioner?”

“I… um…”

I fought back the desire to laugh at the brother’s deer-in-the-headlights appearance. “I think we should begin again, and let everything that has come before be water under the bridge.” I stood, much to Xeno’s annoyance as it meant removing my hand from his head. “Chief Dòmhnall Fionnlagh MacLeod, The MacLeod of MacLeod.”

My hand floated there in the air, the brother blinking as his mind worked to re-engage.

“Andrew MacLeod of Stirling,” Andrew said, stepping in for his brother and shaking my hand. “That’s Ewan.”

I nodded and broke the shake. “Please sit,” I said as I returned to my bench, one hand resuming Xeno’s scratching. “We can discuss the situation that exists between us; one that until our Sorting I was unaware of.” Andrew sat quickly seeing no harm in doing so, Ewan followed after though his eyes were narrow as if expecting me to do something positively evil as soon as he sat down.

“Now,” I said leaning forward with what I hoped was a friendly smile, “let’s begin.”

… …

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… …

“What a remarkable young creature.”

That comment had come from Professor Kettleburn, head of the Care of Magical Creatures department, as he and the rest of his staff, at least those currently free, and Hagrid observed Xenocrates. The raiju was sitting calmly on a table in the Professor’s office, enjoying the attention he was getting while also seemingly being disinterested in the witches and wizards around the table. I stood at Professor Kettleburn’s right, ready to offer Xeno a way off the table if he grew bored or agitated with the attention.

“How old is your bond with him?”

I turned to the speaker, Professor Reed, who was my Professor for the Introduction to Care of Magical Creatures class that I’d had earlier today. Professor Reed appeared the youngest member of the CoMC staff and one of only two females among them. If I were older and had begun physically maturing, Professor Reed would certainly have drawn my attention as her blue eyes sparkled with interest and were held on a soft face framed by blonde locks she had tied back in two intricate braids. That, along with her youth, might be why she taught the younger classes.

“He was a gift for my birthday in January. At first, I hadn’t realised I could form a bond with him, Merlin, I’d felt he was little more than a simple cat.” That drew a few chuckles from around the table with Hagrid’s deeper chuckles echoing around the room and seemingly vibrating through my bones. “Yet, when I went to pick him up, sparks danced around his eyes. Once I was closer, they rushed out crashing into my skin. I flinched, feeling a burst of pain, but it was quickly washed away by a soothing grace. That seems to be when I bonded with him as later on when he lashed out at others for angering him, I never felt any pain from his magic. My robes, however, were a different story.”

Another round of laughter came from the Professors. “Yes, that is a common issue any who work with magical creatures face,” Professor Kettleburn agreed. “Would I be correct in assuming your robes are all now charmed to survive most such encounters?” I nodded. “Good. Then your Professors have one less student to be concerned about suffering damage to their robes during class.”

“It seems the raiju likes you Hagrid,” another Professor, one with his hair slowly greying at the temples said as he offered the half-giant a wide smile.

“Tha’s because every beastie likes me,” the half-giant shot back. “an' because I give 'im treats.” With that, one hand reached into a pocket, drawing Xeno’s attention. “See?”

“We do, Hagrid, we do,” Professor Kettleburn answered with a chuckle. “Which is one of the reasons I allowed you here, even given your most recent accident.”

Hagrid flinched as two of the Professors gave him harsh looks. “I was on'y trying ter help 'em, professor.”

“I’m aware of that. However, the next time you feel the Ashwinders need extra room, bring the matter to either myself or Professor Rhys first.” The Professor in question was one with a harsh expression, and he nodded in agreement with Kettleburn’s words. I wondered what Hagrid had done, though it was amusing that even here his tendency to get into trouble while trying to help was present. That might be useful over the next seven years.

“Yes, Professor.” It was strange seeing someone over eleven feet tall act so subservient to one barely five-ten.

“How old is he?”

I turned to the speaker, the Professor with greying hair. “He wasn’t entirely sure of his footing when I received him on my birthday, and those who gave him to me said he was born in early December.”

The Professor tapped their chin. “Hmm, around eight months then. Good.” He turned and moved toward one corner of Kettleburn’s office, where a large bookshelf rested. “Give me a moment,” he muttered as he began searching the shelves.

“Has he displayed any abilities yet? Beyond the sparks at least.”

I turned my focus back to Professor Reed. “No, though he has learnt to control the spark enough that they can travel a few metres from his body. Something the elves at my home weren’t happy about.”

Reed’s smile grew at the image. “Yes, helping a familiar mature can be a challenge. I have a kneazle, and while she doesn’t have the abilities of Xenocrates here, Dorothy was a terror in her first year. Now she’s remarkably helpful in helping me be sure who to trust and who not to.”

“AH! Here it is!” We all turned to the Professor who’d moved away, though Xeno hissed slightly at the sudden sharp sound. He turned to face us, a book floating in front of his face. “Around their first birthday, raiju become capable of using their lightning to defend themselves. In their second year, they learn how to alter their shape and mass and by the time they mature, sometime in their third or fourth year of life, it is claimed that they can travel as lightning; granting them reflexes few creatures can come close to matching.” His eyes shifted from Xeno to me. “It’s even speculated that some of those abilities can pass to any witch or wizard that has bonded with them.”

“I suspect Professor Donnellan will be interested in hearing that.” The comment came from the other female Professor and drew a round of chuckles, some not altogether genuine, from the others. I didn’t know who this Professor Donnellan was, but given what had just been revealed, it was likely he had an inclination toward elemental magic, which would make them a useful person to learn more about unlocking and controlling my affinities toward fire and lightning. “Provided you prove yourself, you’ll meet Professor Donnellan for classes in Fourth Year. Unless he decides to seek you out due to your remarkable companion here.”

“It is quite unusual to find a familiar at Hogwarts,” the Professor with the book said as he moved toward the table. “Beyond Professor Reed and myself, there are even others I know of that have familiars. Not counting the Headmaster of course.”

“What of me?”

My head snapped around to the entrance to Kettleburn’s office that lay behind me. There, standing in the formerly closed doorway, stood the Headmaster of Hogwarts. His robes, a deep royal purple base with celestial objects moving around them, had me blinking, trying to not get distracted by the amount of shifting taking place on them even as the first hints of a headache because of the overly active robes formed in my skull. He wore half-moon glasses and had a kind, grandfatherly smile on his face while his beard trailed down his chest.

“Headmaster,” Kettleburn said with respect, “I hadn’t expected you to visit my office today.”

“I hadn’t intended to do so. However, during lunch, I heard many of your fellow Professors speaking of meeting the latest familiar to enter Hogwarts. Seeing as my schedule was unusually free, I decided that I would come and, if permissible, greet our latest animal companion.” Before I could respond, a brilliant bird flew into the room, and I inhaled sharply at my first sight of a phoenix.

Fawke’s feathers seemed to ripple as he flew, creating the illusion that he was alight even when he wasn’t drawing on his magic. I’d seen him and other phoenixes in pictures, but those failed to capture even a tenth of his majestic beauty. He swooped overhead, drawing an annoyed hiss from Xenocrates at no longer being the centre of attention – and possibly sensing a challenger to his position – before circling above us.

“Fawkes was also interested in meeting the raiju,” Dumbledore added as his familiar found a perch and settled down upon it. “Provided, of course, that you have no issues with that, Mister MacLeod?”

“I’d be honoured, Headmaster,” I replied, offering him what I hoped was an honest and friendly smile while I sought to not meet his eyes. I knew, unlike most, that he was a powerful Legilimens, and while I didn’t think he’d attempt to read anything more than my surface thoughts, I wasn’t going to risk giving him direct access by letting our gazes meet. He was far more powerful a Legilimens than I was an Occlumens, meaning if he wished to enter my mind without me knowing he could do so, and that was something I didn’t want. However, I had to not make it too obvious I was avoiding his gaze lest he suspect I knew more than I should.

I’d known that I’d have to face the Headmaster at some point, possibly over my talks with the muggleborn MacLeod boys, or just a general discussion to determine what, if any, Clan business I could conduct on Hogwarts grounds. However, I’d not expected such a meeting to take place for a few weeks, and for it to be in his office so that he held the position of power. Coming here now, was an interesting move, as while he still held the power – he was Headmaster after all – he was meeting on as close to neutral ground as was doable while we were in Hogwarts. It also, if it were his intent, placed me at a slight disadvantage as I’d not prepared to meet him today. Oh, I had ideas and plans ready to use, but having to draw on them now when caught off-guard granted him the initiative.

Now, there was a chance I was overthinking things, but it was safer to do that with potential enemies than underestimate them.

Dumbledore moved into the room, his smile growing as he did so. “Thank you, and might I ask how you are finding your time at Hogwarts so far?”

“Wondrous,” I replied, already planning to keep my responses short without them being too short. “Though it’s only been a few days,” I added for some detail. Being blunt would only raise his suspicions about me, and that was the last thing I wanted.

“Very true,” he said as he reached my side, his gaze drifting to Xenocrates. “How is your raiju settling into your quarters?” He asked as Xeno locked his gaze on the Headmaster, faint flickers of lightning sparking at the corners of his eyes.

“Beyond an annoying housemate, Xenocrates seems to be enjoying the freedom of the room when I’m not there,” I said, glad Dumbledore’s gaze was no longer on me. “Thankfully he has yet to grow bored and attempt to damage the belongings of others.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, that will be a challenge, but I suspect the Professors here and Hagrid would, if you were willing, be capable of looking after Xenocrates while you are in class.”

“I don’t see much issue with that, Headmaster, but the choice is up to Xenocrates.” Based on his behaviour in Dunscaith, it was more likely he’d want to simply snooze the day away on my bed and then come out with me during the evenings. However, I knew that letting him wander the grounds, under the eyes of a Professor or Hagrid would help alleviate any boredom he might experience as the term wore on.

“I’m glad you understand that creatures like raiju and phoenixes are, even when bonded to wizards, independent beings.” He turned his full attention back to Xeno and stroked his beard. “An interesting choice for a pureblood to select the name of a muggle philosopher for their familiar. If I recall accurately, Xenocrates believed in there being three forms of being: sense, intellect, and opinion.”

I offered a smile, seemingly pleased at him knowing that. Of course, I was certain he had researched the original Xenocrates once it was confirmed that was the name of my familiar. “He did, though I only learnt of that, and that he was a muggle after naming my familiar. Xenocrates was simply the first name I suggested that he showed a positive interest in.”

From what I’d learnt while being a muggle, Xenocrates’ works were still referenced in the Free Greek States on occasion suggesting they found worth in the teaching of him and other muggles.

“Interesting.” Dumbledore didn’t expand on that, so I had no idea what about it he found interesting. What it did confirm was that he was extremely smart and skilled in keeping things hidden without making it overly obvious he was doing so. In many ways that was a relief as a competent Dumbledore suggested one willing and able to engage Voldemort once the latter revealed himself to the masses. A senile old fool, as many had regarded him as, wouldn’t be anywhere near as useful in keeping Voldemort occupied while I worked on creating my power base; one not linked to either of the main players that were about to compete for control of the Isles.

“From what I know of raiju, they are extremely uncommon outside the Shogunate, with them reserved as symbols of the Shogun and his family.” He turned and looked at me as he continued. “To find a rare feline variant of the species so far from their home shores will draw the attention of the current Shogun.”

“I’ve been made aware of this, Headmaster. According to what I’ve learnt, if not for the fact we were now bonded, the Shogun would be within their rights to demand Xenocrates’ return. As we have bonded, I’ve been told to expect at least a strongly worded missive if not a request for a meeting with the highest representative of the Shogun within Europe.”

“That is about what I would have expected. If you like, I could speak with their representative on the ICW.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” I wasn’t going to turn down having Dumbledore use some of his reputation to smooth over any potential issues I might have with another country. Yes, the Shogun would be unlikely to do anything about me being bonded to Xeno, but if the matter could be cut off before it bloomed into a problem, then I’d take it. I might now owe Dumbledore a small favour, but that was fine as long as he believed I was a potential ally, the longer it would be before he turned his considerable power – magical and political – against me.

Dumbledore nodded, signalling he would do as he’d offered, and then returned his focus to my familiar. I did likewise and saw Xeno looking up at Fawkes, sizing him up as prey. I hoped he didn’t attempt to hunt the phoenix. Not because I feared he’d caught Fawkes, but because of the chaos that could unleash on the school.

“Have you begun your study of young Xenocrates, Silvanus?” Dumbledore asked, drawing a shake of the head from Professor Kettleburn.

“No. For today I felt it wiser to allow the raiju to grow accustomed to our presence. Something I intend, with young Mister MacLeod’s agreement, to continue for at least an hour each night for this month.” A nod from me gave permission, though I knew there might be evenings when I’d be otherwise occupied. “It would be unwise to irritate a creature, even as young as it is, that could potentially kill an untrained witch or wizard.” Kettleburn’s smile grew at some private thought. “I know your expertise lies with phoenixes and dragons, but I would be delighted if, time permitting, you joined us in understanding this fascinating creature.”

“I have many duties to handle, Silvanus. However, provided on those evenings I have a spare hour or two, I would be delighted to offer my experience; as minor and inappropriate as it might be.” He paused and glanced at me. “Again, provided that is acceptable to the raiju’s master.”

“I wouldn’t call myself his master, Headmaster, but I see no problem with you joining the Professor’s examinations of Xenocrates.” Referring to myself as Xeno’s master would’ve signalled to Dumbledore that I considered the raiju beneath me, or at least that was how I saw the little twist of his words. As for letting him help Professor Kettleburn, it was another instance where saying no might cause the first signs of friction between myself and the Headmaster long before I was ready to step out of his shadow.

Dumbledore’s smile grew further. “Excellent. Perhaps while Professor Kettleburn and his staff are examining your familiar we might speak on other matters?” I nodded, knowing exactly what matters he wished to speak about. Those were topics that I’d been preparing to face ever since getting the letter of confirmation that I’d be attending Hogwarts.

As we all focused on Xeno, I glanced at Professor Kettleburn. This meeting with Dumbledore felt like it was anything but random. Yes, it could just be random chance that the Headmaster overheard other Professors talking about Xeno, and then just happened to be in the neighbourhood when that meeting was taking place, but I wasn’t buying that. This was a trap, however minor, that the Headmaster had created to see what he could learn about and from me in an informal setting. Smart and against most students, it might just work. I, however, was aware of his game and now just had to play the role he expected without seeming like a lost cause to the ideals of Blood Purity exposed by many purebloods. The longer I could convince the Headmaster I was nothing but a simple grass snake, the better it would be when I moved against him and Voldemort and revealed myself to be a basilisk in disguise.

… …

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… …

I stood in the corridor on the seventh floor of one of the many towers within Hogwarts looking at a familiar and yet previously unknown tapestry. Locating the tapestry, which featured Barnabas the Barmy's attempt to train trolls as ballet dancers, and the corridor it was located in had taken a good bit of searching. The various towers in the castle were seemingly joined together illogically, and if not for magic I suspected much of Hogwarts would fall in upon itself, and that was before one considered the space-expansion charms that made it bigger on the inside.

Upon finding Barnabas’ tapestry, the next step was making sure that when I returned I was alone. That had taken a few attempts as while the corridor was in one of the less populated towers, with so many students it still had the occasional person passing through it. Given there were only about thirteen hundred students currently at school I knew that once the older years – or at least the non-Prefects of those years – returned, it would be harder to gain access to this room. At least without anyone determining that I was doing so.

Now, there was a chance that no other student was aware of the room, but with nearly three thousand students, not to mention the staff, the odds of that being the case were slim. Or at least slim enough that I was dismissing them and working from the idea that at least ten other students were aware of the room I was waiting to enter. The same was true of the various other locations around the school that I’d sought out in my explorations.

The easiest and thus first one I’d discovered, or at least suspected I’d discovered, had been the entrance to Slytherin’s Scriptorium. It was not much more than a ten-minute walk from the Slytherin chambers, and while the door was hidden as part of the wall, knowing that there should be three unlit braziers nearby – and which I’d yet to see all three lit at the same time – I knew this was where the entrance was.

However, given some of the issues with gaining access to the Scriptorium proper, not least the need to have someone to cast the Torture Curse on to gain access, it was a room that I didn’t intend to enter for several years. Each of the Unforgivables was, according to our DADA Professor, something that we simply couldn’t cast no matter how much anger and fury we had. We lacked the open pathways to cast those spells, or some of the other more dangerous charms, curses, jinxes, and hexes.

The next place located was the entrance to the Ancient Magic Chamber. Or more accurately, I followed the path that was used in Hogwarts: Legacy to where it should be. However, once where the passageway to the entrance should be there was nothing but a solid wall. As there was no obvious hint that a passageway had ever been there, I did wonder if the Ancient Magic Chamber had ever existed.

That idea had been dismissed after some contemplation as if not for the Chamber, then there was no logical reason for Ranrok to attack Hogwarts as he had during his attempted rebellion. Regardless of what lay beyond the wall, I knew that I couldn’t enter the Chamber through the now walled-off entrance as I could not draw upon ancient magic, nor would I be able to unless I either discovered someone who could see and use ancient magic, or I discovered a ritual that would allow me to do so.

The next location sought out and located was the Undercroft. That had taken a touch more effort to locate as while the layout of this Hogwarts was similar to that from where I’d seen the Undercroft, it wasn’t exact. It was, as meant to be, on the ground floor of the Turris Magnus, or as it was more commonly known, the Defence Tower. I’d opened the entrance but not ventured inward, as this was a location supposedly known to House Guant. As far as I knew, there were currently no Guants at Hogwarts, but I couldn’t be certain of that, or that there weren’t wards in place to protect the Undercroft and alert the Guants that someone was attempting to access the location.

One that I’d yet to locate but had every intention of doing so was the broken vanishing cabinet. That, provided things hadn’t changed already, should lay on the first floor somewhere in the castle. The first issue with it was where exactly it was as the first floor covered a lot of ground in multiple buildings and towers. The next was seeing if I or Kadic could remove it without Dumbledore learning of it, or at least learning about my actions before the cabinet was off school grounds. I already had a story to spin as to why I’d taken it, but I wasn’t sure how well that would hold.

The third, and potentially largest issue was locating the paired cabinet. It should, in theory, be in Borgin and Burkes, but as I’d yet to enter that store personally, I couldn’t be sure of that. I would, once the cabinet in Hogwarts was in my possession, do so but if it wasn’t there, then things were going to get a little more complicated on getting the working pair of cabinets.

If I could acquire both cabinets and get them working, then I’d have ways for myself, Kadic, and others to slip into and out of Hogwarts without alerting Dumbledore. However, until then, there were other ways to slip through the wards without exiting through one of the gates.

Two of the four passageways to Hogsmeade had been located. The one behind a statue of a one-eyed witch near the Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms had been located while heading to said classroom for my first introductory lecture in the department. The one hidden behind a mirror on the fourth floor had been harder, but given there was less area that qualified as the fourth floor than the first floor, it hadn’t taken too much effort to locate it during simple wanderings even if testing every mirror I passed on that floor – regardless of the tower it was in – was annoying.

The third route was supposedly located in the West Well. That well had been easy to find, but jumping down it to confirm it led to Hogsmeade wasn’t something I was interested in doing. Particularly as the well lay in a large, open pavilion that even with less than half the students at school always seemed to have someone within it.

The fourth route to Hogsmeade hadn’t been located yet, but that was due more to the vague mention of where it was than a lack of effort. Having it be somewhere on the “west wall” gave me far too much area to work with, including the remains of the battlements that encircled much of the castle’s grounds. As such I didn’t expect to ever locate that passageway.

The same was true of one that was supposedly hidden behind a toilet in the school. There was no way I was going to every bathroom and lavatory here and testing every toilet for a passageway I’d never need access to, nor if it were in one of the girl’s washrooms or one only for the upper years, that I could access easily.

There were three more passageways that supposedly granted access to outside Hogwarts grounds, though perhaps not to Hogsmeade. The entrance to the passageway behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy had been easy to find though I had yet to determine how to open it never mind where it led. The same was true of the passageway located close to the Hieroglyphic Hall under a rug near a jewelled Fire Crab shell.

The final of the seven passageways that led out of the castle wasn’t, from what I knew, active yet. The way through the Whomping Willow to the Shriek Shack – though it wasn’t called that currently – might not exist yet. That was, from what I remembered, created to allow Remus Lupin a path out of the school so he could handle his transformation with each full moon.

There was one other secret location that I knew of yet hadn’t tried to access. The Chamber of Secrets was one place I had no intention of until at least my Fourth Year, if not Fifth Year. In theory, the basilisk inside was sleeping, and even if it woke it might well listen to me, but I couldn’t be certain of that, nor did I wish to see if it were true currently.

Still, while the Chamber of Secrets wasn’t a place I intended to enter, I was glad that I’d found all the ones that had any potential to be of use to me. Or at least their entrances. The greatest of those was why I was where I was, though I was being extremely cautious about entering it.

The Room of Requirement, and everything that it could potentially become and reveal, was possibly the most powerful and useful location in all of Hogwarts. Save perhaps for whatever notes and journals Salazar might have left in the Chamber of Secrets, however, that was only true if Voldemort hadn’t discovered and taken them all. The Room of Requirement, however, was right in front of me, or at least where the entrance should be.

I knelt partially, and gently lowered Xeno to the ground. The raiju looked up at me, irritated that I was no longer holding and scratching him. My focus, however, was elsewhere. As I stood up, I pulled my school wand from its holster. “Homenum Revelio,” I said as quietly as I could.

The base form of the spell was taught, based on its location in textbooks, near the end of Second Year. Learning to cast it before arriving at Hogwarts had been hard, suggesting that it required more than the power of a single pathway to use. I didn’t feel as if I’d fully unlocked my second pathway, but the immense potential that I possessed seemingly allowed me to push that little bit beyond what I should be capable of. However, while I could cast the charm to reveal what was hidden, including the human-revealing variant, I couldn’t do so silently.

The charm spread outward in every direction from my wand’s tip, though no gentle ping was heard in my head to suggest someone was nearby. Just to be sure I cast the charm two more times. While that meant there was no one obviously nearby, it didn’t guarantee it. Anyone under a high-quality invisibility cloak or some similar charm or enchantment could in theory continue to remain hidden if their magic were stronger and more refined than mine.

I was being paranoid as fuck, but given I’d woken up after the merging of souls to discover my family had been massacred, there was no flaw in being so concerned about potential threats. Someone, or more likely, several people was out to kill me, and lowering my guard too far, even when supposedly safe at Hogwarts, was a step I wasn’t going to make. Not until everyone involved in the SSM lay dead at my feet.

When the third casting of the charm failed to detect anyone, I slipped my wand back into its holster and pushed off the wall. Walking in front of the tapestry three times, I focused on a single thought and as the third pass finished, on the section of the wall that I’d been leaning, a simple wooden door appeared.

The door, as I’d made clear I’d wanted in my thought, was no different from any other minor one in this particular section of Hogwarts. Trying to restrain my delight, I moved to the door and pulled it open. A wide, almost maniacal grin spread on my face as I saw a recreation of my bedroom at Dunscaith Castle on the other side of the door.

I closed the door, pleased with this first attempt, and then moved back, finding a section of wall next to the tapestry to lean against. It would’ve been easy to summon my true intended destination the first time I used the magic of the RoR, however, I wasn’t doing so as another minor security feature. I counted the passing of time in my head, noting how long it took for the door to vanish. I wasn’t sure if it would vanish while I was inside, but knowing how long it remained after being summoned but with no one inside was a small facet of information I wanted.

Once the door vanished, I cast the Human Revealing charm three more times and then walked in front of the tapestry another trio of times. Opening the door this time revealed a study chamber, one that bore a remarkable similarity to the one that had been seen in Hogwarts: Legacy. There was a chance this was the very same room, but even if it wasn’t, and the Room stored every creation it ever made in some giant file, then I’d be returning to this chamber to carry out studies I’d rather not do so while under the careful watch of Dumbledore and the castle’s elves.

I closed the door and leaned back, again counting the time it took for the entrance to vanish. When the same time passed as before, the door disappeared, which confirmed my suspicions that there was a pattern to how the room, or at least the entrance, worked. Later on, I would have to use Kadic or someone else to count how long it took for the entrance to slip away while someone was inside one of the Room’s many creations: if it did at all. That, however, could wait for another day.

After repeating my trio of walks before Barnabas’ tapestry a third time, the door reappeared and I moved toward it, my excitement rising even as I struggled to keep it in check. I held my breath as I pulled open the door and then, as the sight of an insane number of chairs, desks, cabinets, books, and all manner of other objects greeted my sight, I exhaled sharply, a wide, triumphant grin spreading over my face. My free hand pumped in the air, but I had no other outward reaction to my joy at setting sight on the Room of Lost Things.

I took a single step over the frame and then looked down at Xeno. “Come on,” I said gently and waited for him to enter. Once he did, I followed and closed the door behind me. In time I planned to cast an illusion over the door, hiding its existence from others on the chance it didn’t vanish when someone entered, however, I was unable to do so now, so I would have to hope that no one walked through the corridor and wondered about the door that appeared identical to hundreds of others throughout the castle.

With the door closed behind me, I took in my surroundings more fully. The space stretched before me, a cavernous, chaotic expanse that seemed to defy all sense of order and reason. Directly ahead, where Xeno and I stood, there was a clear path—if you could call it that—worn through what could only be described as a maze of clutter. But beyond that, the room dissolved into madness, a jumble of objects piled high without care or purpose. It was as though the room had swallowed centuries of discarded things, spitting them out in disarray.

Chairs missing legs were propped precariously against towering boxes, themselves balanced on broken desks that seemed to reach for the ceiling, defying gravity as they leaned and teetered. Tables held piles of items that stretched into the air, stacks of papers, books, and forgotten trinkets wedged in every available space. The entire room felt as though it could come crashing down at any moment, a delicate balance sustained by magic alone—though even with magic, it seemed like a collapse was just one wrong step away.

“Stay close,” I muttered to Xeno, my raiju, who was pressing his flank against my leg for reassurance. He gazed up at me, his electric eyes gleaming with indignation at the suggestion he might wander off without thought. “I know you're smart,” I added, trying to placate him, “but we don’t know what’s in this place. Some of it could be dangerous, and I don’t want you getting stuck in some cursed pile of junk.”

Slowly, cautiously, I began to pick my way through the room. The path ahead was rough and narrow, hemmed in by the bizarre, haphazard architecture of the junk piles that surrounded me. Broken lamps, crumbling statues, and warped furniture formed strange towers, their jagged edges casting long, distorted shadows in the dim light. Everywhere I looked, objects were jammed together in ways that seemed impossible—piles so tall and dense they defied the natural laws of balance, held together by some unseen force.

Books, scattered like fallen leaves, filled in the spaces between the odd-shaped walls that lined my route. Many of them were familiar—the same school textbooks I had seen hundreds of times, now discarded here, their spines cracked, and pages yellowed with age. It seemed like this room had become a graveyard for forgotten things, a place where the castle’s unwanted objects came to rest. If I didn't already own copies of every book from Fifth Year down, I might have stopped to salvage them. Even so, the thought crossed my mind to come back. A second-hand bookshop would gladly take them, and while selling them wouldn’t bring much coin, every Knut would matter for what was to come.

I let out a low whistle, curious to gauge the room's size. The sound echoed back at me, bouncing and fading as it travelled, swallowed by the labyrinth of debris. The sheer scale of the room was impossible to gauge; even if I climbed to the top of the highest pile, I had the distinct feeling I wouldn’t be able to see the far end. It was as if the room stretched on forever, folding in on itself in impossible ways. The unsettling thought gnawed at me—that the room might be larger than it appeared, a magical space that expanded far beyond the physical limits of the castle.

After ten minutes of carefully picking my way forward, my pocket watch reminding me of the slow progress, I spotted something that stood out amid the clutter. A small velvet pouch rested near the base of a particularly precarious stack of junk, its deep red fabric a stark contrast to the muted, dusty tones of the room. It looked like a purse or perhaps an enchanted bag. My curiosity piqued, I stepped closer, wondering what treasures—or dangers—it might contain, nestled as it was among the remnants of a forgotten world.

Using a broken leg of a chair – which I couldn’t see nearby – I gently prised the pouch from where it was nestled. Yet once it was close enough to touch, I stopped. For a moment, with my curiosity running rampant, I’d almost made a potentially fatal mistake. “Kadic.”

A split-second later, the familiar pop of an elf apparating sounded behind me. As that echoed away into nothingness, I turned to see my head elf standing there, a slightly expectant look on his face. “The MacLeod summons Kadic?”

“Yes,” I gestured around at the room we were in, “this is the room I mentioned. However, before we go over the plan, can you confirm if this pouch is safe to handle and open?”

Kadic looked at the pouch, which I was indicating with the broken chair leg in my hand. After a click of his fingers, the pouch lifted into the air and began rotating through all three axes. As it moved, the tie holding it closed loosened, and I watched as perhaps a dozen coins slipped out. Only two of them were Galleons, but the fact it was a money pouch as I’d hoped was an encouraging sign. I didn’t expect to find much money in this room, but that there was some here was encouraging. If I weren’t concerned about the chaos it would cause, I’d have Kadic summoned every Galleon, Sickle, and Knut to our location.

“Kadic feels it is clean.”

“Thank you,” I replied, holding out my hand. The coins returned to the pouch as they all floated over and once closer I grasped the pouch and pulled it from the air. Poking inward with the chair leg confirmed it was larger on the inside though given the dearth of runes around the rim; I suspected this one had a very small space expansion charm weaved into the fabric.

“Now,” I continued as I slipped the pouch into a pocket on my robes, “if I’m right, and based on what I’m seeing I think I am, this is the room I found in those notes I mentioned to you. The ones stating a room for lost items in Hogwarts.” There was no note, but claiming there was such an item allowed me to explain the theory of the Room of Lost Things to Kadic so that now, with him here, I didn’t have to detail everything I wanted him to do. “The room isn’t clean, but there is value in its contents.”

“The MacLeod is smart to find such a place.”

My grin grew, enjoying Kadic’s praise. Yes, I hadn’t truly earned it, but neither he nor anyone else I might reveal this room to in future would know that. “Can you summon the chest I asked you to arrange?” With a click of his fingers, a chest – one from the selection in Dunscaith – appeared next to him. “Excellent.”

I moved toward the chest, checking it was one with space expansion charms runed into it before I continued. “For today, I want you to place every item of coin, gem, and piece of jewellery you find today inside it. Save any that appeared to be cursed. Those are to be left alone.” I didn’t want my elf to pick up the Diadem and succumb to whatever horrors Voldemort had placed upon it to protect the Horcrux within. “After today, you remember the rules?”

“Kadic is to return to the corridor outside this room each day while The MacLeod and other students are sleeping. So long as no wizard, witch, elf, or creature of any kind is nearby, Kadic is to walk past the wall hanging thinking of this room. When the door appears, Kadic is to enter here again and continue following The MacLeod’s orders for what to take.”

It was fine if Kadic couldn’t get in one night, but if he couldn’t get in for three nights straight, he was to inform me. The odds that he’d not be able to access the Room of Lost Things were slim, but I wasn’t going to risk another student or member of staff discovering him entering the room.

“Exactly,” I replied, offering the elf a nod to make clear he had done well. As Kadic’s chest puffed out, I kept going. “When one chest is close to full, bring a new one. After the coins and the like are taken, I want every book taken from here as well. Be mindful of how anything is removed so that the messy piles around us don’t collapse and break. I don’t think anyone comes to this room, but the longer we can keep others unaware of what you’ll be doing, the better it will be for our Clan.”

“Kadic understand The MacLeod’s orders.”

I moved forward and patted his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Kadic. Doing this requires going outside of what you’d normally do, that you choose to do so makes me immensely proud to consider you my friend.” Kadic beamed with pride at hearing that, and while others might think I was disingenuous, I was being truthful. Kadic had looked after me ever since discovering me in the orphanage and without him I suspect I’d have died before others learnt of my survival. He was closer to me than any of my cousins, even Áine MacDougall who made sure to come over to Dunscaith at least twice a month so we might enjoy playdates.

I turned and resumed walking deeper into the room. “If you come across anything cursed, or potentially cursed, you are to leave it where you found it. Even if you think it is safe to move with magic, don’t do so. I won’t have you taking unnecessary risks on my behalf.”

“Kadic understands.”

I was repeating myself a bit – both today and with what I’d told Kadic before about this room, but I didn’t want him going anywhere near the diadem. Nor anything else that might be fatal if moved incorrectly.

“The MacLeod is wise.”

“No, I’m just paranoid. After what happened to my parents and siblings, I have every right to be.” My eyes caught sight of a spellbook for Sixth Year. That was going to be useful in a few years, but I doubted I could cast many or even any of the spells inside. “Also, and I know I already said this, but don’t talk with others about this room. Not even Aien and the Hogwarts elves. The longer we can keep this room, and the fact we know of it, hidden from others, the safer we’ll be.”

“Kadic understands.” The elf offered a nod as he walked at my side, the chest floating along behind us. Xeno was to my right, leaping gracefully from one random object to the next, seemingly finding fun in this new maze to explore.

I paused as an idea came to me. “Kadic, can you find your way back to this room without using the door outside?”

Kadic’s face scrunched up as he thought carefully on the matter. “Kadic thinks he can. The room is in Hogwarts but not. The door The MacLeod came through helps find the room, but it is still there. Kadic thinks after a few attempts, Kadic could come here without the door.”

“Okay, then from tomorrow try to get in directly. It’s fine if you can’t do it, either soon or ever, but if you could it removes the biggest issue of others discovering what we’re doing.”

Looting the Room of Lost Things was, ever since I’d been merged into this life, something for which I’d been planning. Those plans had changed over time as I learnt more about magic, but the general concept remained the same. Since no one was claiming these objects, and Dumbledore and others weren’t searching for the room – something that would be confirmed once the diadem was located – then there’d not be anyone to stop me from gathering everything and anything of value, be that financial, knowledge-based, or otherwise, from this repository. Technically, we were stealing it all, but I was using the ancient law of ‘Finders Keepers’ to reason away the tiny portion of my mind that disliked the idea of thieving everything we could.

I stumbled, my mind abruptly torn from its musings on the legality of rummaging through this room as my eyes caught something that made my breath hitch. Xeno had leapt from a pile, dislodging a book that lay forgotten among the detritus, and the name on its spine sent a thrill down my spine, a bolt of excitement that burned through my veins. No, it couldn’t be. But as I moved closer, the faded title confirmed my wildest hope.

The Path of Destruction.

My pulse quickened. This was no ordinary book. Nearly five centuries old, this forbidden tome was the magnum opus on the raw, brutal art of destructive magic. Its author, Banidar Vlidmar, had wielded such catastrophic power that his actions were forever seared into history, culminating in the event the muggles called the Little Ice Age. The book was legendary, referenced only in hushed whispers, and utterly forbidden by every magical authority in existence. Vlidmar’s work had been sealed away, his grim legacy locked behind walls of fear, and only the rarest, most dangerous private collections could boast of holding a single copy.

Yet here it was, wedged carelessly beneath a desk teetering on an old chair, discarded as if it were some mundane school text. My hand hovered over it, trembling with a mixture of reverence and greed. The mere fact that I was standing here, inches from one of the most coveted and dangerous texts ever written, sent a surge of triumph and hunger through me. This was a treasure of forbidden knowledge, the kind of discovery that could change everything.

The thrill of it gripped me tight. Power—true power—lay within these pages. The kind of magic that could reshape the world, if only one had the will to command it. And here I was, in possession of a key to it. All the warnings in those dusty tomes, the dread in the voices of scholars when they spoke of Vlidmar, meant nothing to me now. The risk, the danger—they were mere obstacles to overcome. My heart raced as I imagined the possibilities, the knowledge waiting to be unleashed, and how it might further my own abilities, setting me apart from every other wizard.

I had wanted this—dreamed of finding something like this—but I had never expected it. Not here. Not now. Yet fate had seen fit to place this forbidden artefact into my hands as if inviting me to take the next step toward mastery. Toward supremacy.

Slowly, I reached for the book, my fingers brushing the worn leather. The weight of it was heavier than I expected, both literally and metaphorically. In this moment, I wasn’t just discovering a lost text—I was unlocking a path to power most wizards could only dream of, a path that had been barred and sealed for centuries. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. What a find.

“Kadic,” I said as calmly as I could manage,” This book. Remove it without bringing down everything upon us.” I watched as the book, one I was going to have to read within my trunk as being known to possess it carried fines in the millions and incarceration for several decades, slowly slipped from its precarious position. “IS it clear of hexes, curses, and the like?”

“The book is safe,” Kadic said a moment later and to the day I died, I’d deny snatching the book from the air as if my life depended upon it, and that the grin that spread over my face would terrify even the strongest witches and wizards to ever live.

My hand ran tenderly over the cover, feeling the slightly raised text there, wondering what great secrets lay within it. This book should help me unlock my affinity for destructive magic, and while I knew it would be years before I was able to call upon any of the spells within, just having it in my collection would be a boon for the coming decades.

“Kadic, this book… Place it in Master Study right now.” I handed the book slowly to my elf, reluctant to let go of such an unexpected but important find. However, I knew if nothing else came from this room, not even the diadem, this alone was worth the effort.

Kadic took the book, and even though he was clearly confused by my actions, disappeared with a click of his fingers. Less than a minute later he returned. “Kadic did as The MacLeod asked.”

“Excellent. Now let’s see what else we might find this evening.” I had a curfew to make it back to the Slytherin chambers, but until then I wanted to see what other treasures might be hidden in this wondrous room.

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