Before the first hint of sunrise touched the sky, Harry stirred. A sharp chill brushed against his skin, unnatural for a Gryffindor dormitory warmed by enchantments. His eyes snapped open-and the cold immediately made sense.
Perched silently on the bedpost in front of him was Hedwig. Harry smiled.
She no longer looked like an ordinary snowy owl.
After integrating the Frostwing Owl bloodline, her feathers had become impossibly white, pure like freshly fallen snow. A faint icy mist drifted around her wings, and her eyes glowed a soft, crystalline blue, calm yet sharp. She looked less like a pet now-and more like a noble magical beast.
It had been a month since her awakening.
Harry still remembered that morning vividly. The moment Hedwig completed the bloodline integration, her body had been reborn. Since then, she could instinctively manipulate ice-elemental magic-freezing the air, forming razor-sharp frost feathers, even condensing cold into focused attacks.
And she hadn't learned alone.
For the past month, Harry had trained alongside her-deep in the forest, away from Muggles.
While Hedwig learned control, precision, and restraint, Harry himself adapted to the element, developing ice magic through observation, resonance, and practice. Beast Whisper allowed him to feel Hedwig's intent, her flow of magic, her instinctive understanding of cold.
They learned together. Now, Hedwig tilted her head slightly, letting a thin layer of frost spread across the bedpost before withdrawing it perfectly-no excess, no waste.
Good control, Harry thought approvingly.
He sat up quietly, careful not to wake the others. Sparky remained curled beneath the covers, cheeks faintly sparking in his sleep.
Harry reached out and gently stroked Hedwig's feathers. They were cool to the touch-but not unpleasant.
"Good morning," he whispered.
Hedwig gave a soft, dignified hoot, her wings rustling as a few snow-like particles drifted down and vanished before touching the floor. Outside the tall tower windows, the sky was still dark. A new day at Hogwarts had begun.
Harry gently stroked Hedwig's snowy feathers and whispered for her to head to the Owlery Tower and rest. Hedwig gave a quiet hoot, spreading her frost-kissed wings before vanishing into the early morning sky.
Then Harry turned to the small lump under the blanket. He softly shook Sparky awake.
"Come on," he murmured. "Training time."
Sparky groaned sleepily, cheeks giving off a weak spark, clearly unwilling to move. Unmoved, Harry picked him up and quietly slipped out of the dormitory, passed through the common room, and made his way stealthily across the grounds toward the Black Lake, where the morning mist still clung to the water.
Harry placed Sparky on a flat stone nearby, where the little Pokémon curled up again, half-asleep. Training began.
Harry ran laps along the shore, followed by push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and full-body conditioning. His breath slowly synchronized as he transitioned into Serpent Breathing, each inhale and exhale controlled and deliberate. Even with muscle memory and Hyper Mind, the technique demanded absolute precision, forcing his body and mind into perfect harmony.
After some time, Harry sat down and took out the Renewal Taekwondo Manual. He read.
Fifteen minutes later, he closed the manual, stunned. It wasn't just basics-it contained advanced techniques, and some techniques t he was not able to perform because of his physical level.
Putting theory into practice was another matter. Without a strong body, execution was difficult.
His strikes lacked precision at first, but repetition paid off. Slowly, Harry began to feel the flow within his body, adjusting angles, timing, and force. Progress-slow, but undeniable.
Next, Harry retrieved the Shadow Clone Jujutsu Scroll.
He read it carefully, memorizing every detail, then attempted the technique.
The first try produced a distorted, lifeless clone-unstable and useless.
The second failed entirely.
On the third attempt, mana surged smoothly-and a perfect clone appeared beside him.
Harry's eyes widened.
He pushed further.
One clone.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Four perfect shadow clones stood around him-but the cost was heavy. Nearly half his mana drained instantly. Recognizing the danger, Harry dismissed the clones at once.
The sun had risen higher. It was time for breakfast. Harry picked up Sparky, who had finally woken up and was blinking lazily, and headed back toward the Great Hall.
Arriving at the Great Hall, Harry noticed that very few first-year students were present. Most of the tables were already filled with older students calmly eating breakfast. As he scanned the walked over. Gryffindor table, he spotted Hermione.
"Good morning," Harry greeted.
Hermione looked up, smiled, and greeted him back as he sat beside her. Soon, they began chatting. Just as Harry had expected, many first-years had stayed up late the previous night due to excitement and were still asleep.
After some time, Neville arrived, looking slightly rushed, followed shortly by Ron, who quickly tagged along after seeing Harry sitting with the others. Harry felt a brief wave of annoyance at Ron's obvious eagerness, but he kept his expression neutral and said nothing.
Once breakfast ended, the group headed to their first class-Herbology, which they shared with the Hufflepuffs.
Professor Sprout was cheerful as ever, enthusiastically asking questions about magical plants. To everyone's surprise, Harry answered nearly every question with ease. His responses were precise, confident, and far beyond first-year expectations.
"Excellent!" Professor Sprout exclaimed more than once.
"Ten points to Gryffindor!"
Harry even outperformed Hermione, which only ignited her competitive spirit rather than discouraging her. She glanced at him with narrowed eyes, clearly determined to do better next time.
Professor Sprout looked genuinely pleased.
"Outstanding knowledge for a first-year, Mr. Potter," she said warmly. "Keep this up."
Harry simply smiled, sitting calmly while the rest of the students looked at him with a mix of awe, curiosity, and disbelief.
After Herbology, Harry and the others headed toward their next class-Charms. As they reached the moving staircases that constantly shifted and rearranged themselves, Harry calmly took out the Compass of True Desire.
Hermione immediately noticed it.
"What's that?" she asked curiously.
"A compass for locating places," Harry replied casually.
Hermione looked puzzled, but before she could ask more, Harry focused his thoughts on the Charms classroom. The compass spun wildly for a moment before settling, its needle pointing in a clear direction.
"This way," Harry said.
Following the compass, the group moved through the ever-changing staircases, and within minutes they arrived at the Charms classroom. Inside, they saw Professor Flitwick, standing atop a stack of books so he could be seen clearly due to his small height.
Neville, Ron, and Hermione stared at Harry in amazement.
How did we get here so fast?" Neville asked.
Harry smiled lightly and explained, "It's an alchemical tool. It points toward what the user wants to find. But it has limits- one can only use it three times a day, and I've already used it once."
The group was stunned by the compass's usefulness, especially Hermione, whose eyes sparkled with academic curiosity. She immediately began asking questions and shifting the conversation toward studies and theory. Ron and Neville, however, quickly grew bored and started talking among themselves about other things while waiting for class to begin.
After a few minutes, the classroom filled up, and Professor Flitwick began the lecture. Once again, Harry stood out.
He mastered the wand movements instantly, understood the spell theory with ease, and performed the charms cleanly and efficiently. Professor Flitwick's eyes shone with delight.
"Marvelous! Simply marvelous!" he exclaimed.
"Ten points to Gryffindor!"
The praise echoed through the classroom. Whispers spread among the students-about Harry's talent, his background, and how he kept earning points so effortlessly. Some looked at him with admiration, others with envy.
Harry, however, remained calm, sitting quietly as if nothing unusual had happened, while his reputation continued to grow with every class.
After Charms, the students headed toward their next lesson-Transfiguration. Once again, Harry quietly took out the Compass of True Desire, used it, and led the group straight to the classroom without wasting any time.
As they entered, they saw a black cat sitting stiffly on the teacher's desk. The cat had distinctive square markings around its eyes, almost like glasses, and was watching the students with an unnervingly sharp gaze.
Hermione, being a cat lover, immediately moved forward.
"Oh, what a beautiful cat-" she said, reaching out to pet it.
Before her hand could touch the cat, Harry quickly stopped her. He looked directly at the animal and said calmly,
"Good morning, Professor McGonagall."
The rest of the group froze. Ron burst out laughing.
"Harry, that's a cat, not a professor!"
Harry ignored him completely and continued to look at the cat respectfully. He then turned to Hermione and explained,
"Professor McGonagall is one of the seven registered Animagi."
Hermione blinked in confusion.
"Animagus?"
Before Harry could explain further, the cat suddenly leapt from the desk. In midair, it transformed, and in the next instant Professor McGonagall stood before them, robes perfectly neat, eyes sharp and authoritative.
The entire class went silent.
"Good observation, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, looking at Harry. "I hope you show the same level of talent in Transfiguration."
She then turned to Hermione.
"An Animagus is a witch or wizard who has mastered Transfiguration to the extent that they can transform into an animal at will. The animal form represents the wizard's heart and soul."
Hermione's eyes widened with understanding, while Ron stood red-faced, embarrassed for laughing earlier.
Professor McGonagall instructed everyone to take their seats. The class was shared between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Harry noticed Draco Malfoy sitting with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, all casting smug looks around the room.
Just like in the books, Professor McGonagall demonstrated Transfiguration, explaining its dangers and complexity. Then she assigned their
first task: Turn a matchstick into a needle. Many students tried-and failed. When it was Harry's turn, he calmly lifted his wand, made a precise motion, and focused. The matchstick shimmered and transformed instantly into a perfectly crafted needle, gleaming silver, covered in intricate designs, with the Hogwarts crest delicately engraved on it.
The classroom went completely silent. Professor McGonagall stared, then actually clapped. "Outstanding," she said. "The finest Transfiguration I have ever seen from a first-year student. Fifteen points to Gryffindor!"
Draco Malfoy snorted angrily and tried to perform the spell himself-but his match only bent awkwardly, halfway transformed before reverting back.
By the end of the class, only Harry and Hermione had succeeded. Hermione's needle was sharp and functional, but it lacked the elegance and refinement of Harry's creation.
As the students packed up, Professor McGonagall stopped Harry. "Mr. Potter," she said, holding up the needle, "may I keep this?" Harry smiled politely. "Of course, Professor."
Clearly pleased, she nodded, and the class was dismissed. The group headed to the Great Hall and ate until they were full. Since first-years had lighter schedules, the rest of the day was free.
Harry excused himself from Hermione, Neville, and Ron, saying he had some studying to do.
As Harry reached the library, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. "Wait up!" Hermione's voice called out.
He slowed, and soon she was walking beside him. Together they entered the library, immediately falling under the sharp, hawk-like gaze of Madam Pince. Without a word, they carefully selected a few books from the shelves and searched for an empty table.
One table was already occupied by a Chinese girl with a porcelain-smooth face, quietly reading. Harry and Hermione stopped politely.
"Excuse me," Harry whispered. "May we sit here?" The girl looked up, smiled softly, and nodded. "Of course."
They sat down, and before opening his book, Harry subtly cast a silent charm around the table, isolating their voices without disturbing the surrounding readers.
Hermione blinked. The girl looked curious. "What was that spell?" both of them whispered. "A silencing charm," Harry replied calmly. "It keeps our voices from spreading."
Both girls nodded in understanding, impressed but careful not to react too strongly in the library. Taking the opportunity, Harry gave a small smile.
"I'm Harry Potter. First year, Gryffindor."
The girl's eyes widened-only slightly-but it was enough. "Cho Chang," she said. "Second year. Ravenclaw."
Harry was briefly surprised. So this is Cho Chang, he thought-the same Cho Chang who, in the original timeline, would later fall for Cedric Diggory. But how could he let this happen he was now going to make Cho Chang his and only his and not only Cho but also other girls his too. Hermione introduced herself as well, and the three settled into a comfortable silence, broken
only by the turning of pages.
As Harry foced his attent on the book, he felt something unfamiliar stirring in his thoughts about wanting to make Cho Chang his. Since awakening his Wyrm bloodline, his emotions had subtly shifted-his instincts sharper, his possessiveness stronger, and his awareness of attraction or Lust more intense than before. He now wanted to mate and make the girls his own property.
Frowning slightly, he pulled out one of the books he had chosen to know about his predicament-Magical Creatures and Their Bloodlines-and began searching for answers. It didn't take long and finally he understood what was happening to him.
Many serpentine and snake-descended magical beasts and pseudo Dragons , the book explained, were naturally territorial, possessive, and driven by strong instincts of rage, lust, and greed.
Harry exhaled softly. "So that's it..."
Understanding the source of the change, he chose not to dwell on it and also though that this was good. His will was still his own, and instincts were meant to be mastered-not obeyed blindly.
With renewed focus, Harry returned to his reading, quietly expanding his knowledge.
That night, the Great Hall glowed warmly beneath its enchanted ceiling, stars drifting lazily above as dinner was served. Laughter and chatter filled the house tables, but at the professors' table, a quieter-yet far more interesting-conversation was taking place.
Professor Sprout dabbed her mouth with a napkin and smiled brightly.
"I must say, Albus, it's been years since I've seen a first-year handle Herbology like that. Mr. Potter answered questions some second-years struggle with."
Professor Flitwick, barely visible atop his stack of cushions, nodded enthusiastically. "Quite! His control over charm theory is remarkable. Not rushed, not forced-precise. I awarded him ten points today, and I don't do that lightly."
Professor McGonagall folded her hands, her expression composed but her eyes sharp with approval and she took out the needle that Harry Transfigurated in the class and show it to every professor.
"And his Transfiguration," she added firmly. "Albus, this needle he produced-clean lines, structural stability, even aesthetic detailing. I have never seen such refinement from a first-year. I kept it as an example."
At this, Dumbledore paused mid-bite, his blue eyes twinkling with genuine surprise as he look at the needle and was happy because he saw that it contains the Hogwarts logo which was a good sign that Harry show it on the needle.
"My, my," he said thoughtfully. "It seems Harry has been... quite busy before arriving at Hogwarts."
He stroked his beard, clearly intrigued.
"Exceptional magical theory, wandless casting, advanced spell intuition... fascinating."
Across the table, Professor Snape remained silent. He neither praised nor criticized. He simply ate, his dark eyes lowered, his expression unreadable- and he sometimes glanced towards the needle. Though the faint tightening of his jaw did not go unnoticed by McGonagall.
"Severus?" Flitwick prompted lightly. Snape did not look up. "He is Potter," he said flatly. "Talent does not surprise me." And that was all.
The conversation slowly shifted, but Dumbledore's gaze lingered briefly on the Gryffindor table, where Harry laughed quietly with Hermione and Neville, a small yellow creature peeking from his robes as he fed it bits of dinner.
After the feast, the Gryffindors followed their prefect back to the tower. Later that night, the first-years were led outside once more for a short astronomy session, where they learned to identify major constellations and stars, the cold night air sharpening their senses as the heavens stretched endlessly above them.
Harry listened calmly, memorizing patterns with ease, the stars reflecting faintly in his emerald eyes.
When it finally ended, exhaustion set in.
Back in the Gryffindor dormitory, one by one, the boys climbed into their beds. Neville fell asleep almost instantly. Ron followed soon after.
Harry lay back as well, Sparky curled warmly against his chest, the distant sounds of Hogwarts settling into silence.
His first day at Hogwarts had ended.