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Chapter - 5: Warm Darkness
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I stepped out of the Room of Requirement and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. Seeing that the coast was clear and feeling confident that I wasn't being followed, I made my way toward my House's dormitories.
Not long after, I reached the staircase leading down to the Slytherin dungeons—a long, spiraling staircase that descended over a hundred meters, winding deep underground.
As I approached the bottom, I heard voices. There were multiple; the ones that stood out were masculine, strong, laced with mocking derision from what I could gather.
Soon, we stopped in front of a stone wall, and the prefect of my House flashed a satisfied smile. "Blood supremacy," I said simply.
After that, the wall began to tremble and shift, revealing a hidden passage. "They really could have picked something more original," I thought, rolling my eyes as I stepped into the dormitory.
After walking for a bit, the common room came into view, and I must say, it looked rather tidy. The furniture was high quality, and the entire room was bathed in a greenish glow, with rough stone walls illuminated by greenish lamps, while the windows overlooked the depths of the Black Lake.
The atmosphere here was relaxing for most people. The large windows faced the lake. The sound of the water there had a pleasant, calming effect on everyone.
The social nerves of being pushed to find lifelong friends at this moment, immediately, rush without hesitation to be somewhat eased by it.
From what I remember, the girls' dormitory is on the right, the boys' on the left. It is forbidden to enter the dormitories of the opposite sex for any reason, so don't complain.
Moreover, unlike the other Houses, every member of this dormitory had their own individual bedroom. It was the only truly useful thing, as it spared me the headache of having to talk to other members of this House every single moment of the day.
I looked around; most of the others seemed to be keeping an eye on me as soon as I entered—not that I was surprised by something like that, given that I had clearly gone against Malfoy, who was supposed to be the great leader of the first years.
And with the support of his Daddy, who expected him to make a good impression and find valuable contacts to truly establish his dominance over the Chamber.
Speaking of him, he was watching me along with Crabbe and Goyle, and he didn't look happy at all that I had sat next to Daphne during class, given that my presence had prevented him from having a productive conversation with his future wife, and that visibly irritated him.
It was just one of his usual schemes to try to get her into bed, or at least to lay the groundwork so that it could happen smoothly, in order to bring a neutral family to their side.
He probably expected me to respect their engagement contract as if I were just another one of his lackeys—someone who would never dare to stand against him.
Too bad for him, I couldn't care less. And as powerful as his father was, he would never make me change my mind, as he was nothing more than a weak man.
Of course, there was also Pansy, sitting next to him. But that didn't surprise me in the slightest; she was greedy and arrogant, one of those people who easily adapted to his court.
I expected her to stay there until she realized that there was no real advantage in being with Draco. It was her kind of opportunistic game—trying to get the most with the least effort, taking advantage of every opportunity without thinking too much about the consequences.
But I knew that, sooner or later, she would realize she was just wasting her time.
Then there was Daphne. She seemed to be trying to consolidate her little court, looking for more followers, while throwing me a look that I could easily interpret as curiosity.
But for the moment, I decided to ignore all of it. I knew that to build a lasting relationship, I had to be patient, to wait for them to get used to my change and my budding talent.
But it seemed that not everyone agreed...
"You're not acting so bold now that we're not in class, are you?" A voice abruptly interrupted my thoughts, accompanied by an overbearing tone that left no room for doubt.
After his words, the room fell silent, with the other House students watching closely, waiting to see how this discussion would unfold.
I turned to look at the brat who had spoken, and to no one's surprise, it was Malfoy. I stared at him with a bored expression. Did he really think vague threats and cliché lines were enough to intimidate me?
"You were lucky that our fathers are in business together, but it seems like lately, you think you're better than me," Malfoy said with a disdainful smirk.
Honestly, I found this whole situation hilarious—a group of idiots who believed themselves superior to everyone else just because of the family they were born into. But even in the body of a child, I was an adult inside, so I did what any responsible adult would do.
"Sorry, and you are…?" I asked with a deliberately confused expression.
Malfoy's face stiffened, his confidence wavered for a moment. "Don't play dumb!" he growled.
"No, seriously. Have I seen you somewhere before? Your appearance is so… ordinary." I shrugged with a smile. "You seem like the type of person who tries so hard to be memorable that they end up being forgettable."
Some of those present stifled a laugh, while others looked at me in astonishment. A blonde girl with green eyes, in particular, watched me with a mix of amusement and curiosity, probably wondering where I found the courage to speak like that.
Crabbe and Goyle were looking at him, expecting him to take control of the conversation, but no one else seemed to be paying much attention to the blond little Malfoy boy.
Even Daphne seemed intrigued, but I simply observed calmly, slowly making Malfoy lose the will to continue this ridiculous confrontation.
Malfoy clenched his fists, his face now bright red. "How dare you?!" he shouted. "I am Draco Malfoy, heir of the noble and ancient House of Malfoy! I will not tolerate this lack of respect!"
"Oh no," I said in a flat tone. "Another aristocrat with an unjustified sense of self-importance. You know, Malfoy, the more someone screams about being superior, the less they actually are. Powerful people don't need to remind everyone of it every five minutes."
"You filthy peasant!" he growled, his eyes filled with hatred. "I'll make your life a living hell for this!"
I sighed heavily, gesturing with my hands as I spoke—a habit I had retained from this body. "Malfoy, tell me one thing… what have you ever done in your life to boast so much? Were you born into a rich family? Congratulations, an achievement earned through the effort of existing."
I took a step toward him, my gaze now ice-cold. "You know, for someone who thinks he's so superior, you need an incredible amount of validation from others. It's almost… sad."
The silence in the room became almost oppressive. No one spoke, no one moved. Everyone was waiting for Malfoy's reaction as he now stared at me with pure frustration.
"I hope for your sake that you know who you're talking to," he hissed, trying to regain a shred of control.
I raised an eyebrow, clearly bored. "Oh, I'm definitely talking to you. I'm talking to a child who thinks a surname is synonymous with power. A child who knows nothing about the real world, who has always lived under his family's protective wing and believes that being feared is the same as being respected."
Malfoy looked on the verge of exploding, his face red as a tomato. I could almost feel the rage pulsing in the air around him, and I couldn't help but smile at his reaction, but unfortunately for him, I had no time to waste.
I turned to leave, ready to walk away. "Anyway, this was very entertaining, but I have better things to do now." Just as I turned, a hand grabbed my shoulder forcefully, stopping me in my tracks.
I slowly turned around, meeting Malfoy's eyes, who looked more furious than ever. "Who said you could leave?!" he hissed with an arrogant smile. "It's time for you to know your superiors."
I stopped, closing my eyes for a second as if gathering my thoughts. Then, with a decisive motion, I slapped his hand off my shoulder, leaving him standing there, motionless.
Then, I slowly turned and looked him straight in the eyes. "My superiors?" I repeated calmly. "Tell me, Malfoy, when was the last time you did something relevant without hiding behind Daddy's name?"
His smile disappeared. "Don't make me laugh," I continued, my voice now colder. "You are not my superior. You never have been, and you never will be. Your whole life, people have told you that you're special, that you're better, but the truth is, without your last name, there's nothing left of you. You're just a fragile boy desperately clinging to an illusion of grandeur."
I took a step back, observing the other students, who were holding their breath, unable to utter a single word. "Let me be clear," I said, my voice as sharp as a blade. "There will be no second chances. This applies to anyone who tries to stand in my way."
And with that, I turned and left, leaving behind nothing but silence. Wasting no time, I climbed the stairs to enter a certain room—my own.
It was a room that could only be described as a nerd's paradise, but at the same time, it was so messy that it desperately needed a good cleaning.
The lighting was dim. The windows were dusty and partially covered by heavy curtains that had seen better days. A musty, slightly stale scent lingered in the air, giving the room an old-fashioned vintage atmosphere.
The first thing that caught the eye was the disorder. Books were everywhere—stacked on shelves, scattered on the floor, precariously piled on the desk.
I sighed lightly and flinched a little when I felt a delicate presence brush against my leg. I looked down and found a cat—or rather, Yuki was her name—completely white, soft, and immaculate, so pure it almost seemed unreal.
Her eyes, a vivid ice blue, stared at me with a mix of pride and expectation, while her long, fluffy tail moved with elegance, as if emphasizing her regality.
At the sight of her, my lips curled into a muffled chuckle, and I couldn't help but gently stroke her head. At first, Yuki showed a hint of disappointment, turning her head to the side and making a small, indignant snort, as if expressing her dissatisfaction with me.
A few moments later, however, she gave in to the soothing strokes, purring in contentment and moving closer, seeking even more affection.
"There's no need for you to stay in this form, considering I'm the only one who can enter this room. I know how much it bothers you to maintain it for too long," I said with a small smile creeping onto my face.
Yuki looked at me with evident affection, nodding in response and displaying an intelligence that seemed far beyond what one would expect from an ordinary feline.
Then, as if she had been waiting for the right moment, she stepped back, stretched gracefully, and, in the blink of an eye, her body seemed to be enveloped in a soft glow.
I watched as her form shifted—her body elongated slightly, her paws became more slender, her tail grew larger and even fluffier and more tapered. And when the light faded, in her place stood a beautiful white fox.
Her fur remained the same pure white, but now her elegance was even more striking, and her blue eyes shone with a mysterious intelligence.
I smiled to myself. "Good girl. I still have a bit of work to do, but afterward, I'll give you all the attention you deserve." I really hadn't expected to see in my memories that my pet was an East Asian fox.
She had always been by my side, silent and watchful, like a faithful shadow following me everywhere. I still remembered the day I first found her—or perhaps, she was the one who found me.
After my mother's death, the house had become colder—not just from the absence of her sweet voice or the warmth of her embrace, but because of the way my father had withdrawn into himself.
He was always buried in his work, too busy to care about me. He hardly ever spoke, and when he did, it was only to give curt orders, as if I were a burden he didn't know what to do with.
I felt alone, abandoned in a house that had once been full of love. My mother's death had left a void I couldn't fill, and my father seemed more distant with each passing day.
For that reason, that morning, I had gone out for a walk in Diagon Alley without any specific destination, just with the desire to distract myself and find a way to vent all my negative emotions.
That was when I saw her. A small "cat," curled up in a secluded corner between two shops, her snowy fur in stark contrast to the dusty street.
Her eyes, intelligent and attentive, scrutinized me with an intensity that made me stop in my tracks. I approached cautiously, afraid she would run away, but she remained still, her fluffy tail wrapped around her paws.
I hesitated for a moment, then knelt down and reached out a hand. She tilted her head slightly, evaluating me, before stepping forward and brushing my fingers with her cold nose.
That simple gesture was enough.
It was one of my most precious memories.
I shook my head as I took off my shirt, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror. My body was... disappointing. My arms were thin, with no trace of defined muscles, and my figure was slender, almost fragile. In this world, it was nothing special.
That would change very soon, one way or another.
That thought kept spinning in my head as I forced my body into motion. It was the perfect distraction to keep me from focusing on how my arms started trembling after just twenty push-ups.
"Jesus... fucking... Christ," I panted, but I endured the pain, even as my breath started to falter.
Proper breathing rhythm is essential for exercise and can also help work on certain muscle groups, especially the core. My arms were shaking, but I did my best to maintain the correct posture.
"My physical endurance still leaves much to be desired, but with time and consistency, I can improve." I kept repeating to myself that every bit of progress, no matter how small, counted. Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same applied to the greatest heroes.
And yet, I felt out of place, lost in a fucking world I barely understood. And yet, I kept pushing. What else could I do but try to survive, to learn, even when nothing seemed to make sense?
As I continued my training, I tried to focus on Occlumency. Being a purely mental discipline, I thought I could do both things at the same time.
Occlumency was not my strongest skill, mainly due to the lack of material to start with. The Hogwarts Library had practically nothing on the subject, just a few vague mentions of the existence of the mind arts.
I had to do extensive research just to begin, but there was no rush. First, keeping my emotions in check had been the initial step, then came progress toward the next level—completely organizing my memories—which still left much to be desired.
If nothing else, it gave me something to focus on, pulling my mind away from the burning pain in my muscles and the tightness in my lungs. By the time I finished my set of push-ups, sit-ups, and squats, I felt a renewed sense of determination within me.
Mastering wandless magic would be my first major goal. I had the will, and I could only hope I would find a way to achieve it.
As I made my way to the bathroom, I reached out a hand to give Yuki a small scratch on the head. She dismissed me with an air of haughtiness, flicking one ear, regal as always.
And as the hot water cascaded over my body, relaxing my tense and aching muscles, my mind wandered. I suspected that my biggest problem was the fact that I was completely self-taught.
I had no teachers, no reliable guides, only fragments of information gathered from books and guesses based on instinct—which wasn't even remotely enough for me.
The few sources I had came from wizards who, skilled as they were, had not lived long enough to reach a complete understanding of magic in its purest and oldest form.
So, for now, I sank into a state of semi-meditation. My only goal was to find some answers as my mind delved into my mental landscape, trying to perceive my magic—or at least something close to it.
I had no instructions, no teachers, no clue what I was doing. I was proceeding by experimenting, relying only on instinct and the hope that I would find something useful, no matter how many times I failed.
During my search for enchanted objects, I realized I had a particular ability to perceive the flow of magic. Even old Theodore had a similar skill, but mine seemed to operate on a higher level, as if it had become much stronger.
At some point, during meditation, I sensed something different. It was an ancient presence, powerful and dark, with an extraordinarily regal aura.
I wasn't sure if it was magic or something else; it was difficult to put into words and raised more questions than answers.
At the same time, that sensation was incredibly familiar—so much so that I couldn't have ignored it even if I wanted to. Although it lasted only an instant, it etched itself deeply into my mind.
I had never felt anything like it before. I had never dug so deeply within myself, to the point of sensing something that seemed almost like the very core of my being.
And even then, I was certain I had only grazed the surface of this darkness, as if it were a natural part of me. It wasn't the kind of malignant, corrupting darkness described in so many books on the Dark Arts.
Instead, it felt like the darkness of the night—silent and enveloping, like a warm blanket.
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Chapter- 16: Shocker - Chapter- 17 (Incoming)
Chapter - 8: Keeping My Treasures to Myself
Chapter - 7: Hobby - Chapter - 8: New Hunt - Chapter - 9: Past unknown
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