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Hogwarts
–Damian Hawthorne–
After climbing a short staircase, they stood in front of a truly massive door that looked positively ancient and yet exuded a regal aura. It was all so interesting. On the outside, he was picture perfect calm, but on the inside, he was tasting, for lack of a better term, all the magic around him.
Sure, his lair was full of magic, but that magic was either due to the all encompassing wards or the many magical relics that were in every corner of his lair. In here? It was as if he were walking on magic itself. The entire castle felt alive in a way he hadn't anticipated it to. It was entirely different from feeling the wards from the outside, the oppressive might of the wards a stark contrast to the sheer warmth and comfort he was feeling being wrapped inside this magical place.
Sighing, he withdrew his senses, struggling to do so as his inner geek practically demanded researching every inch of this place, simply to see just how this entire aura came to be. Could it be that this theory of Hogwarts being truly alive was true?
If so, he might just have to extend his stay in Hogwarts simply to study more of this magnificent place. If it was not abundantly clear, in the first few moments of being here, he was already feeling excited to stay here, a feeling he did not think would emerge without seeing the library and the extensive collection he would have access to.
Hagrid came after them, climbing the stairs, with the appropriate vibrations of a Half Giant climbing them reaching all of the students as all of them parted for the Groundskepper to come and open the door for them as they could not be opened by them, as found by an ambitious kid who tried to push the door open with some help from three other kids. They failed, obviously, much to their chagrin.
Hagrid, not knowing the spectacle that unfolded moments ago, just shuffled to the door and pushed it open with a casual gesture, the act drawing shocked looks from the kids who probably expected him to use some spell to unlock the clearly locked door. As it turned out, the key to that door was Giant Strength.
Smirking, he followed Hagrid, making sure to maintain an appropriate distance from the Golden Trio. Even with Harry being personally trained by Dumbledore, Harry acted just as awed as he expected him to, with both Ron and Hermione sticking to Harry's side, as if Fate itself had brought all three of them together for some purpose.
They entered yet another antechamber, with another door blocking their entry into Hogwarts, but this time, it was different. He could feel it. People, students, just sitting on the other side of that door. This door did not have the level of damping that the other door had, allowing him to sense not just the magic of people inside but also hear what they were saying.
Most of it was gibberish, but to his amusement, he definitely heard the words Harry and Potter two different times. It would seem that the craze around Harry was not abated in the slightest, further reinforcing Dumbledore's decision to keep Harry isolated from the magical world at large.
Hell, within mere months of Dumbledore teaching Harry on a regular basis, he and his family were targeted by a pureblood vampire, resulting in over 50 people whose lives were irrevocably ruined.
And the worst thing about the whole thing was that he couldn't even see what was so special about Harry. What was so important about him that he couldn't see? Beyond the prophecy and him being the only one capable of killing Tom in a very convoluted manner.
Tommy boy's apparent immortality so long as Harry Potter was not the one to kill him might sound like an insurmountable problem to the common people in Magical Britain, but that was just a minor issue that could be easily sidestepped by the other powers on the planet.
Hell, he was sure that someone in Kamar Taj must have written an entire book on how to deal with demons who have all sorts of immortality. Tommy boy's version of immortality would warrant nothing more than a quick dismembering and a one way trip to the Mirror Dimension, to solve the issue once and for all.
All of that without traumatising a teenager into killing a decades older Wizard who had already killed hundreds, if not thousands, by his lonesome.
So far, the best justification he could think of for not interfering with the prophecy was the maker of the prophecy itself. Fate. It was as if stepping on Fate's toes could result in a fate worse than death, forcing the world itself to accommodate the frankly unreasonable demand of Fate, to make Harry Potter kill Tommy boy.
Shaking his head slightly, he realised that he had kind of gotten off track here. He was not a fan of Fate, not a fan of controlling his actions, not a fan of nudging the timeline according to their own worldviews and wishes. He was not a fan of the Ancient One, which is why he limited his interactions with them. He still was not sure what the purpose of their last meeting was, and he had long since given up trying to find out.
That woman was impossible to decipher, her actions equally bizarre and yet, he knew, with sobering clarity, that no other human had a hand as large as hers when it came to the direction humanity as a whole was going in. Their entire civilization as he knew it, be it magical or non magical, had been influenced by her at some point, such was her impact.
And he kind of hated it. Sure, if he knew her reasoning, which he would never, he might have reluctantly agreed with the whole Greater Good concept, but things being as they were now, he would much rather be in the driving seat of his own life and not be nudged into a certain direction by the inbuilt Autonomous Driving feature that was installed into the car against his will.
He was brought out of his downer thoughts when he felt her magic come through the doors. Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, came through the door, all rigid and strict looking, looking over the gaggle of gathered children with a critical look in her eyes.
He'd already donned his Hogwarts robe in the time they had spent waiting at the previous door, with some wizards still maintaining distance from him because of his clear Muggle clothing as they called it. Joke's on them, it was very comfortable. Also very purposefully non magical, because he was not yet clear about Hogwarts' policy on personal magical artefacts.
Expanded trunks were not a new thing, and were allowed so he had just taken that loophole to the extreme and crammed all he could into his cabin luggage bag. Normally, he would have been able to sense its rough location, owing to his network of satellites and the large local transmission range of the magical ping the luggage sent out at periodic intervals.
But before coming here, he had disabled that feature. For one, his satellite network did not work for Hogwarts, mainly because of the large-scale ritual they had already done for all officially recognised magical territories in Magical Britain. Only Britain, the US, Wakanda, and New Zealand for some reason, had such extensive protections.
All the other nations were hidden because the ICW made sure that no non magical surveillance came close to their settlements, but that paled in comparison to the lengths the major magical powers took to hide their locations.
Also, Hogwarts' wards were not just wards, they were more akin to a magical domain, with a single entity reining supreme. He was unsure what a magical ping would lead to, so he let the Elves handle it for now.
After almost an entire minute of her gaze roving amongst the students, presumably to make sure that their uniforms were correct, she finally spoke.
"The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. Your name will be called for Sorting. You will be sorted into one of the Four Houses and will be seated accordingly. Make sure to follow proper etiquette."
Then, after those strict commands, she smiled slightly and added, "Welcome to Hogwarts."
The effect was instant. All the kids relaxed, smiling as the scary lady smiled at them.
___xx__
"Gryffindor!"
"We got Potter!" "Woohoo!" "Yes!" "Potter!" "Potter!"
He rolled his eyes at the veritable avalanche of noise that came from the Great Hall when Harry was predictably sorted into Gryffindor. He had hope that Dumbledore's teachings and an earlier exposure to the magical world would change his decision but apparently not. Fate was, as usual, being a bitch and stayed adamant on her script.
Sighing, he eyed the last remaining kid aside from him who was not yet sorted. Neville Longbottom. He was trembling, sweating as the mere fate of being one of the last to be sorted had him clutching his wand tightly, as if that single thing was a source of tension for him. Yet another kid who had to go through stuff that no child should have to. It worked out in his favour, as he became a much better version of himself, but he was an anomaly. Most kids, wizards or not, would break down in the face of the adversity they might face.
"Neville Longbottom!" Neville flinched, scrambling to get into the Great Hall as his name was called.
Well, it might be different in his universe, seeing as anyone could become great and powerful, he mused to himself as the slightly subdued cheers came through the door when Neville too was sorted into Gryffindor.
Exhaling, he straightened, getting off the wall as he waited for his name to be called. He was the last one here and he wondered why. The Sorting Ceremony was certainly not done in any alphabetical manner. If so, Blaize Zabinin should have either gone in early or last, with his name and surname. But the kid was called somewhere in the middle, for some reason.
Shrugging, he decided not to impose logic on the clearly magical process and waited for his turn, and it came soon.
"And last, but not least, Damian Hawthorne."
He walked out into the Great Hall with confidence, looking at the students seated all around, most of them already zoned out from the ceremony now that most people were done. He noted the Starry ceiling but compared to the magical marvel that he could feel all around him, that ceiling might as well be a gimmick, so he did not pay much attention there and simply walked to the Sorting Hat and put it on, curious as to what would happen.
Just to be on the safe side though, he continued to chant Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw in his mind to help the Hat, and he was proven right as the Hat barely sat on his head before shouting "Ravenclaw!"
To mild applause, he sat on the Ravenclaw table, his robes now reflecting the color as well. In the small encounter with the Hat, he realised that the Hat was not a very powerful artifact, for most adult wizards with a modicum of training on how to protect their minds.
So, yeah, it was powerful for a large subset of the population, but not for him. It used a very low powered mental probe, initiated by contact as well, so he could just lift the hat and the probe would be shattered, to glean his surface level thoughts. Nothing intrusive like life's memories being probed and analysed to come to a decision.
Nope. The houses' names, their overall traits, and their short description was already at the forefront of the students' minds, so the Hat simply used the thoughts to decide on the house allocation. It also took into account the preference of the student, which was probably why he was sorted into Ravenclaw.
After that, they all had dinner, which was very tasty, and retired to their dorms. No drama like the one he was sure was unfolding in both the Slythering and Gryffindor dorms.
The dorms were spacious and very comfortable, with the lower level housing the girls and the upper level housing the boys. He was lucky in the sense that he had no dorm mate for now. He was told that someone might change their rooms or something like that, but for now, he was to sleep alone in his dorm, which served him just fine.
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