The Great Hall was alive with celebration as platters of food appeared, filling the long tables with roasted meats, fresh bread, and golden pastries. Laughter echoed across the hall while the Seventh Years received their awards and recognition for graduation. I enjoyed my meal in silence, poached eggs replaced by roast chicken and pumpkin juice, while listening with half-interest.
Then Dumbledore stood, raising his hands, and the hall quieted.
"As we approach the end of this remarkable year," Dumbledore began, "I wish to say I am deeply proud of all the houses. The advancements, the strength, the resilience you have all shown will make your founders proud."
I stabbed a fork into my potatoes, scoffing silently. Funny how there was no mention of the Slytherin upper years being expelled for using unforgivable curses on me. Typical Dumbledore—smoothing things over for the sake of unity.
I tuned back in as Dumbledore's voice carried over the crowd.
"Now… to the house cup."
The hall buzzed with excitement.
"In fourth place," Dumbledore announced, "Ravenclaw, with 452 points!"
A respectful applause came from the Ravenclaw table.
"In third," Dumbledore continued, "Hufflepuff, with 468 points."
More clapping, louder, a few cheers. "Now…" Dumbledore's eyes glinted, "we have a unique situation. Gryffindor and Slytherin… are tied."
Whispers broke out immediately across the Great Hall.
"Both at 500 points exactly." I raised a brow, glancing around at the shifting expressions of the Gryffindor and Slytherin students. Harry looked confused. Draco sat up straighter, and Nikita just smirked knowingly.
Dumbledore continued, "However, there were a few final points not yet tallied."
I felt the tension grow.
"Fifty points to Gryffindor… for winning this year's Quidditch tournament." A roar of cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table. Fred and George were already high-fiving and ruffling Harry's hair.
"An additional twenty-five points," Dumbledore said, "for those among Gryffindor who showed great initiative in protecting their friends and reaching across house lines to help others."
More claps and whistles.
"Gryffindor now holds 575 points," Dumbledore declared.
I shrugged slightly. Not surprised. Gryffindor always clawed back at the end.
"And now… to Slytherin."
The hall hushed again.
"Twenty-five points to Slytherin, for placing second in the Quidditch tournament," Dumbledore began.
Some polite claps from Slytherin, a few disappointed mutters.
"And… one hundred points," Dumbledore's voice rang out, "to Slytherin, for Mr. Callum Tesfaye Dawn—who has become the first first-year student in Hogwarts history to achieve a perfect score on his O.W.L.s."
Heads snapped toward me.
Great, I thought. More attention. Just what I needed.
Cheers broke out among Slytherin, but I caught glances from other houses too. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students looked impressed. Some Gryffindors even clapped. Harry, Ron, and Hermione just grinned at me.
Dumbledore wasn't finished.
"An additional fifty points to Slytherin… for fostering unity, ambition, and growth among housemates this year—proving Slytherin can rise above old stereotypes and forge its own path."
Silence.
Then the explosion of applause hit the hall like a tidal wave.
"Slytherin finishes with 675 points," Dumbledore concluded, "and wins the House Cup."
The Slytherin table went wild. Students jumped to their feet, cheering, some even banging their goblets on the table rhythmically. But it wasn't just Slytherin. I caught students from other houses chanting my name.
"CALLUM! CALLUM!"
My lips twitched in amusement as I waved half-heartedly.
Then the familiar mental pinging started—system notifications firing off in rapid succession in my head. I didn't even bother looking at them. Not now.
This was the end of the first year. A chaotic, challenging, yet victorious year.
I exhaled deeply.
The next morning came quickly.
We boarded the Hogwarts Express, my usual group gathering in one of the carriages. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Nikita, Draco, Neville—they filled the cabin, chatting about summer plans, sweets, and Quidditch.
I sank into my seat, closing the sliding door, ready to finally check my notifications and see what rewards this long year had earned me.
As the Hogwarts Express rattled down the tracks, I leaned back in my seat and focused on the steady stream of notifications that filled my vision.
Quest Completed: Zero to Hero
Reward: Rare Snake Wood Seeds (×2)
Quest Completed: Leader of the Pack
Reward: New Spell from the Enchanted Journal
I raised a brow, noticing there were no bonus rewards attached—strange. Normally there was always something extra, especially with back-to-back completions. Either the M's were tightening their rewards or I'd annoyed them enough to keep things minimal.
Shrugging, I stood and quietly slipped out of the compartment, telling the others I was heading to the bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door and summoned my Enchanted Journal from my hidden inventory.
The pages flipped on their own, stopping on a new blank section. Runes glowed faintly before burning into the parchment. My system pinged again.
New Spell Learned: Hunter's Mark
Effect: Mark a target for tracking and enhanced damage against them in combat. Duration based on mana investment.
A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Figures… of course the M's are fans of D&D."
I closed the journal and shifted my attention to the second reward. With a flick of my hand, three small seeds dropped into my palm. One older, slightly luminous seed pulsed softly—Elder wood Seed. Two others, however, stood out; one pure white with soft silver speckles, the other pitch black, absorbing light around it—Snake Wood Seeds, both white and black.
My thoughts drifted to Aster's stories. She had once told me of a rare White Snake Wood Tree in Japan, hidden away and revered for its unique magical properties. She mentioned an ebony counterpart, long thought extinct.
"These… these are seeds from those ancient trees," I whispered to myself, gripping them tightly.
Their growth would take time. Trees didn't simply sprout in days, even with magic. But I wasn't short on time. Experimentation could come during summer or later years when I had more stable resources. For now, I pocketed the seeds, planning which greenhouse would be their home.
Another checklist ticked in my mind: contact Nikita's grandmother about the mutagens… follow up with Grindelwald regarding the Ministry Council.
The Hogwarts Express finally began slowing, the familiar sight of King's Cross Station coming into view. Students buzzed with excitement and energy, gathering their belongings and talking about summer plans.
As I stepped off the train with Harry, I immediately spotted the Longbottom family waiting. Frank and Alice, leaning on canes but standing proud, their eyes bright with life restored. Neville waved at them before they moved over to me.
Frank reached out first, his hand gripping mine. "Callum… thank you… for everything. For giving us back to our boy."
Alice smiled warmly. "We owe you more than words can express."
My throat tightened slightly. I wasn't used to genuine gratitude—not in this life, or the last. I shifted awkwardly but managed a simple reply. "It… it was no trouble."
Watching them walk off with Neville made me realize, no matter the chaos of this year, there had been victories worth remembering.
Harry nudged me as we moved to our own families. Sirius stood with my parents, grinning until we got closer. He motioned subtly with his lips.
Run.
I blinked, confused, before realization slammed into me. Mom found out.
Sure enough, as we reached them, my mom pulled both of us into a suffocating hug, while Dad smiled and casually picked up our trunks with one hand.
Sirius leaned in close. "Your mom knows about the duel."
Harry and I froze, shooting each other wary glances before our eyes landed on Hermione standing nearby, chatting with her parents.
Dad noticed our twitching hands and snatched our invisibility cloaks right out of the air. "Nice try, boys," he said, tossing them into a magically expanded bag. "The Mrs. has words for you both."
We turned in unison as Mom's calm but firm voice rang out.
"Harry. Callum."
Her arms crossed, her foot tapped, and the pressure in the air hit like a tidal wave.
"Harry Potter," she said sharply, eyes narrowing at him, "you are my godson. Your mother entrusted me with your life. Running into danger instead of seeking help… was a disrespect to her dying wish."
Harry winced but nodded, taking it without complaint.
Then she turned to me. "And you… I'm proud you stopped him… but…"
That moment I felt it—an overwhelming, suffocating weight pressing on my shoulders.
"But why… would you fight him at all instead of simply subduing him?"
My throat went dry. My mouth opened—no words came out.
Her palm connected with both of our faces in a synchronized slap that had every student in the station pause to stare.
"You're brothers. Start acting like it. Disagree, but don't ever… ever point wands at each other again," her voice dropped with that deadly tone only mothers possessed.
"Yes, ma'am," we said in unison.
"Good," she nodded. "Because this summer… you both will have a study schedule so intense you'll beg for Hogwarts."
Harry's shoulders sagged. I already felt the creeping horror in my bones.
Hermione stepped forward. "Well… technically they—"
She never finished because Mom turned to her, smiling. "Oh don't worry, Hermione. You'll be following the same schedule your parent's have agreed to it as well."
"Wait, what?" Hermione squeaked.
Ron doubled over laughing, only for my Dad to grin. "Relax, Ron. You'll be joining them too. Your mum want's you further your studies and we agreed to take you in for part of the summer."
Ron's jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"
I couldn't help it—my laughter echoed through the station, mom just smiled.
Inside the quiet study room of Tesfaye Manor, I sat with my mirror propped up on the desk. The enchanted surface shimmered before stabilizing, revealing the calm, sharp-eyed expression of Noel Ash, Nikita's grandmother. Her youthful appearance was a lie—behind those smooth features sat decades of knowledge and experience.
"Good evening, young Dawn," she said with a smile. "It's a pleasure to finally speak to the young man who's got the European Wizarding world whispering from Britain to the Balkans."
I scratched the back of my head. "It's really not that big of a deal."
She waved me off, her smile thinning. "Let's get to the point. You're planning to use the mutagens… on yourself, aren't you?"
Her words hit like a sharp spell. My posture stiffened. "Is it… that obvious?"
"Of course it is," she said bluntly, sipping her tea. "You're not the first wizard who thought about using mutagens for personal enhancement, and you won't be the last. But you are the youngest I've met who is both foolish enough and daring enough to try fusing multiple species' traits into himself. A dragon… and a basilisk… are you trying to die young?"
I frowned. "What exactly do you mean?"
"Do you think," she said, her tone sharpening, "you can just shove any magical mutagen into your bloodstream and expect your body to adapt? Even with magic, this isn't just a brew-and-chug process."
I leaned forward. "I know compatibility is important, and stabilization—"
She cut me off, "That's just the surface. You're talking about highly unstable essences. Dragon mutagens are already incredibly volatile—they alter flesh, reinforce bones, increase primal instincts. Basilisk mutagens are naturally toxic, layered with a fatal venomous nature. If you try to merge both, your body will reject itself."
My jaw tightened. "I had accounted for some of that. I was going to use regenerative abilities to compensate, maybe stabilize my body through near-death hibernation."
Noel gave a short laugh. "That's… the beginner level approach. Near-death hibernation, regeneration, maybe one or two stabilization potions… but the moment you start mixing incompatible mutagens, you're creating internal wars inside your body. Dragon and Basilisk mutagens conflict violently. Unicorn mutagens? Poisonous to male hosts, especially with strong mana pools."
My fingers drummed against the desk as the realization clicked into place. That's why my success percentages had always fluctuated, sometimes dipping dangerously low.
I asked, "Would regeneration not fix it? If I out-heal the damage—"
Her face went flat. "No. The only thing regeneration will do is prolong the agony. You wouldn't die quickly, boy… you'd suffer for days. Weeks even, depending on how strong your healing factor is. You'd wish for death."
I exhaled sharply. "But… what if I could outlast it? What if I nullify the pain?"
Noel leaned back, considering for a moment. "Suppressing the pain doesn't prevent mana exhaustion or systemic collapse. You'd spend days in constant agony, burning through your reserves. If your mana cuts out, your regeneration halts… and you rot from the inside."
I grimaced. "What if I used the Philosopher's Stone, combined with phoenix feather elixirs, and added Felix Felicis for probability manipulation?"
That got her attention. She leaned forward, her features scrutinizing me more carefully.
"With those variables… your odds shift. You'd have a chance at survival," she admitted. "But it would still require two key figures: a Master Alchemist to handle the mutagen mixtures, counteract chemical collapses, and stabilize the bodily reactions… and a Powerful Wizard to regulate the magical inflow so your body doesn't overload."
I didn't hesitate. "Could you handle the alchemy side?"
She took a deliberate sip of her tea before answering, "Of course I could. But I won't help a child throw his life away."
My expression didn't shift. "Even if I offer money?"
"No."
"Even if I prove it can work?"
"Unless you're on your deathbed, and this is your last option," she said firmly, "I won't help you."
I sighed, half-expecting that answer. "So you won't sell me the dragon or basilisk mutagens?"
Noel's grin returned. "Not exactly. I'll make you a deal, Callum. You provide me with access to the Philosopher's Stone, even temporarily… and I'll hand you both mutagens."
"Temporary access?" I asked, already prepared. "Or are you asking to keep it?"
"Temporary," she answered, "since I don't believe you even have it. You're not related to Flamel, you're just some ambitious upstart trying to shake up the old world."
I smiled, tapping my fingers against the mirror's edge. "Fine. I'll grant temporary use. And if I need your alchemy?"
"You'll have to convince me… with more than arrogance," she warned. "Or a life-or-death reason."
"Fair enough," I said.
Her expression softened just slightly. "Thank you… for watching over my granddaughter."
"No trouble," I replied.
But her sharp gaze returned quickly. "And if I find out you drag her into one of your insane schemes again… mutagens will be the least of your worries. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said without hesitation.
The mirror shimmered before the call ended, my reflection staring back.
I leaned back, fingers lacing behind my head.
"I've been lucky," I muttered. "Too lucky."
Nyx, my loyal shadow-furred cat, hopped onto my lap and curled up, her soft purring filling the silence.
I stroked her ears gently. "What do I do, girl? Keep chasing power… until it gets one of us killed? Or stop before the damage spreads?"
Nyx looked up with those deep sapphire eyes, unblinking, tail flicking calmly as if saying, you already know the answer.
I chuckled softly. "I've started down this road. I don't have the luxury to stop halfway."
My hand drifted over her smooth black fur, feeling the soft vibrations of her purring.
"I'll see it through… to the end."
The first week back at Tesfaye Manor wasn't slow or relaxing—it was the complete opposite. The moment we settled in, Mom kicked all four of us straight into high gear.
Ron, being the most behind academically, got the full brunt of her attention. His first lesson was simply catching up to where we had been at the end of first year, then immediately diving into second-year material and even previews of third-year content. His groans could be heard echoing throughout the house.
Hermione, unsurprisingly, was given a more tailored challenge. Not only was she expected to understand second- and third-year materials, but Mom added something that actually made Hermione pale—elemental manipulation with flawless control. Hermione's precision was already good, but Mom demanded transitions between elemental types without any hesitation. Her private sessions left her mentally drained every night.
Then there was me and Harry… who got the worst of it.
Harry's training sessions were brutal. Mom personally drilled him in reaction conditioning, throwing dozens of spells at him from every angle. She didn't limit herself to standard spells either—she used foreign techniques, and rapid-fire dueling tactics that I hadn't even heard of. Every lesson ended with Harry flat on the floor, gasping but slowly improving.
I thought I was prepared… but I was wrong. When I asked what I'd be learning, Mom's answer was short.
"You'll self-study," she said. "I won't teach you directly until the final month of summer."
I blinked, confused. "What?" Before I could question it, Dad walked in, rolling up his sleeves and removing his jacket. His sharp black suit shifted, revealing lean muscle packed underneath his crisp shirt.
Dad smiled, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's because you're mine this summer, Callum."
That didn't calm me.
"Your mother says you're getting too dependent on magical advantages," he continued. "So this summer… it's back to the basics."
I swallowed. "What… exactly does that mean?" Dad's grin widened. "It means you're with me for physical training. Every. Single. Day."
His voice was calm, but I could feel the doom settling in my bones. "Your warm-up," Dad said, "is one hundred push-ups, pull-ups, squats, plank holds for 5 minutes, and burpees."
Internally, I screamed.
"And after your warm-up," Dad continued casually, "we'll run the obstacle course in the manor's underground training facility. Sprinting, rope climbing, dodging enchanted projectiles—multiple courses, randomizing difficulty."
I asked, already dreading it, "What does that have to do with next year's studies?"
"Nothing," Dad said simply. "But you're a fighter. You need to know when to fight… and when to run." I sighed, thinking I could handle it—until he added, "And after your course, we wrestle."
That's when I knew I was screwed.
The next four hours were pure punishment. The exercises weren't impossible—my body enhancements and natural talent kept me going. The obstacle course tested my agility, and reflexes but I managed.
But wrestling Dad? I might as well have been fighting a mountain.
No matter what advantage I tried—techniques, flexibility, explosive force—he countered everything. He slammed me into the mats with smooth, controlled throws. Chokeholds, arm locks, pressure pins—every move was deliberate, efficient, and crushing. I couldn't escape his grip once he locked me down.
By the end, I was half-dragging myself to my feet.
That's when I got sent to Mom.
When I stumbled into the courtyard, I found Harry drenched in sweat, bent over with his hands on his knees. Ron and Hermione looked completely mentally wiped, staring blankly at their textbooks.
Mom smiled brightly. "Dueling time."
We all groaned.
Mom stood tall. "Wands out."
I reached for mine.
"Not you, Callum," she said sweetly. "No wand."
I sighed, not even surprised anymore. "Yes, ma'am."
Ron protested immediately. "This isn't fair! He doesn't need a wand to flatten us!"
Mom's expression didn't change. "Ready… begin!"
I blasted three magic missiles, knocking their wands clean out of their hands in five seconds.
"Pick them up. Continue," Mom said.
This repeated for five more minutes until I got irritated and dropped them unconscious with non-lethal hits.
But then… Mom activated her Golden White Flame—radiant, warm, surging with life. She used it on them, and moment's later they stood back up like nothing had happened.
"This… feels incredible," Hermione gasped, flexing her fingers. Ron looked like he was ready to sprint through a wall. "I feel like I could fight a dragon!"
"Wands ready," Mom said again.
I staggered backward. "That's not fair—"
"Begin."
They moved in unison each launching a spell. All three spells colliding with my Invisible Wall, fracturing it almost instantly. I reinforced it with my Golden Flame, but their empowered attacks crushed through, launching me backward.
Mom smiled proudly. "Victory."
I coughed, getting to my feet as she approached. "Now son do you know why you lost?"
I thought for a moment. "…Because I wasn't ready?"
"Half right," she corrected. "Why could they beat you?"
I sighed, understanding dawning. "Because they weren't alone. They fought together."
Mom crouched down, her expression softening slightly. "No matter how powerful you are… someone stronger will always exist. And when numbers come into play, you'll need allies. Learn when to fight… and when to ask for help."
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"Good," she stood. "You'll be doing this for the next three weeks."
Harry flopped onto the grass, exhausted. Ron and Hermione followed suit, the buff from the Golden Flame finally fading.
I laid back, breathing hard, the weight of everything hitting me all at once. I want to be strong enough to never need help… but wise enough to ask for it when I do.