The crowd of Hogwarts students had gathered tightly around the Black Lake. Torches cast long, flickering shadows, and the air was thick with anticipation.
The Beauxbatons students arrived first — elegant, graceful, moving as if they were dancing on air. Their entrance drew sighs of admiration, especially from the boys, who watched with open fascination as the girls in pale-blue robes descended from their carriage like a living breeze.
But when a dark ship emerged on the horizon, rising from the depths of the lake, the atmosphere changed. The air seemed to grow colder. From the black waters, a massive hull surfaced, and shadowed figures began to appear on deck. Their steps were sharp, precise — almost mechanical. They looked less like students and more like soldiers on parade.
The first to step into the light was Igor Karkaroff — tall, thin, with a sharp nose and a pointed black goatee. Beside him walked Viktor Krum — broad-shouldered, hunched, and grim. You'd never guess he was the world-famous Bulgarian Seeker who flew far better than he walked. A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd.
"Whoa, that's Krum!" shouted one of the younger students.
"He looks even cooler than at the World Cup!" added Lee Jordan.
But soon, the students' attention was drawn to another figure among the Durmstrang delegation.
He was taller than Karkaroff, even taller than Krum — broad-shouldered, standing with a proud, almost regal bearing. His platinum-blond hair, like liquid silver, was perfectly styled. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look through everyone in his path. His face was sharp and aristocratic, pale skin accentuating the clean lines of his cheekbones. His eyes — glowing, then fading, then glowing again — gave him the air of a creature too refined for the world around him. Unlike the others, he didn't lower his head or avert his gaze. Every movement radiated quiet confidence and an unmistakable sense of superiority — the calm grace of a predator watching its prey.
Harry suddenly realized the white-haired wizard looked… familiar.
"Who's that?" he muttered, frowning and turning to Ron.
"You seriously don't know?" George sounded genuinely surprised. "That's Arcturus…"
"…Malfoy," finished Fred. "He transferred the same year you enrolled."
"Malfoy?!" Harry blurted, staring at the tall blond in shock. Another one…
"Yeah, but not the slimy one we all know — the one who can't stop whining to his father," George smirked.
"His older brother," added Fred.
Harry still found it strange how the twins could finish each other's sentences, but he listened carefully.
"He used to study in Slytherin — before they kicked him out."
"Kicked out?" Ron asked incredulously, eyeing the tall blond who walked beside Karkaroff and Krum, looking for all the world like he was the champion of the Quidditch World Cup.
"Well, officially he 'transferred' to Durmstrang," George said, making air quotes with his fingers.
"But he'd have been expelled anyway," Fred added with a grin.
"For what?"
Fred lowered his voice theatrically.
"Because he's insane."
"Cunning and dangerous. A real snake," George whispered.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione leaned closer, waiting for details.
"They say he attacked three of our upper-years," Fred continued, clearly enjoying the attention. "Not just a duel — he blasted a Bombarda right in the middle of a corridor!"
"But that's against the rules!" Hermione exclaimed, doubtful. "Is that true?"
"Absolutely," George nodded solemnly. "Those three only wanted to settle a minor conflict, but Malfoy drew his wand and started firing. And when he realized he couldn't win — he blew up the wall! Stones flew everywhere, the shrapnel cut through them like parchment!"
"All three ended up in St. Mungo's," Fred added. "One of them can't even walk now — he's on home schooling. And Malfoy? He got away with a few scratches and a 'voluntary transfer' to Durmstrang."
"Bet his father got him off the hook!" Ron spat. "He should've been thrown in Azkaban!"
"Quiet! He might hear you," Hermione hissed.
Harry glanced toward the other Malfoy, confirming Ron's words. The boy was walking leisurely beside Karkaroff and Krum, that same expression of cold superiority frozen on his face. The smirk — sharp and poisonous — looked even worse up close. Another Malfoy, Harry thought grimly, but far more dangerous.
"They say he didn't even regret it," one of the twins continued. "Just stood there and watched as they were carried off — like broken dolls."
"Of course he didn't," Ron snorted. "Another Death Eater in the making… just like the rest of the Malfoy lot."
"But the worst part," Fred said quietly, "is that he's not just any Malfoy. He's also the European Junior Dueling Champion. I remember the headline — Lucius Malfoy's elder son crowned champion of Europe and America."
"Who cares?" Ron muttered. "Harry already taught one Malfoy a lesson. One more or less won't matter, right, Harry?"
"There was an article in The Prophet a couple months ago," said one of the Gryffindors nearby. "That guy wiped the floor with everyone at the Ilvermorny tournament."
"Figures," Ron grumbled. "Son of a Death Eater — another dark wizard in the making." He turned his attention back to Krum.
"I didn't even know there was a dueling championship," Harry said, remembering second year. "Is it like the Dueling Club?"
"Hardly, our lightning-scarred friend," George replied.
"It's a bit more advanced…"
"Just a bit!" Fred finished with a grin, and both twins chuckled.
Harry swallowed hard. If even half of what they said was true… this second Malfoy was far more dangerous than the first.
***
The bus jolted over another pothole, and I instinctively tightened my grip on the handrail, continuing to stare out the window. It was an ordinary day — cold, grey, like most of the year in St. Petersburg. Music played in my headphones, my thoughts wandering around my term paper and the upcoming retake. Everything was as usual. An ordinary day, an ordinary evening, an ordinary route home, and then one of my favorite songs from the playlist started playing; my favorite rock band lifted my spirits a little.
And then, a sudden impact. What it was, I never understood. Something collapsed inside me, as if I'd been yanked by strings. A sharp, piercing pain shot through my entire body, my consciousness flashed with a bright white light, and the next second, everything disappeared.
Darkness. No sound. No movement. Only a sticky, suffocating feeling of emptiness. And then, I finally managed to inhale.
I came to abruptly, as if surfacing from icy water. Soft, silk sheets, cool air, and the scent of expensive aromatic candles — it all felt unnaturally familiar, yet alien at the same time.
I sat up slowly, feeling a heaviness in my head. The world swam, as if I had just emerged from a deep, hopeless sleep.
My eyes scanned the richly furnished bedroom. My bedroom. Dark walls adorned with silver patterns, heavy curtains barely letting in any light, a massive oak wardrobe, intricately carved details on the furniture...
Malfoy Manor…
And then it hit me. My body went rigid, and my mind slowly began to crack. I fell back onto the bed, unable to even move.
Memories flooded in, one after another, colliding, intertwining, creating a sensation of dizziness. Layers of personalities from two completely different people, from different eras, different worlds, different statuses and ways of thinking. The memories were merging together. My very identity was cracking at the seams, but something, or someone, was diligently holding it all together, stitching the self-awareness together like two pieces of fabric.
Much was being lost — faces, memories, emotions… yes, especially emotions. Absolutely everything was changing, even my worldview. I don't know how long I lay like that, but soon someone entered the room, and after a while, others came in too, but I didn't see them. My eyes felt like they were about to explode from the strain, and all my thoughts… they weren't mine and yet they were. I couldn't focus on anything specific. My thoughts shifted and jumped from one topic to another. In the end, I couldn't withstand the hundreds of images, déjà vu, and memories. Darkness descended before my eyes again, and finally, a moment of peace arrived.
I love the darkness… it's so calm and soothing… like death, which I apparently had experienced quite recently. At least, according to my theory, I had remembered a past life… or rather, not a past life, but simply remembered someone else's life. Even that's not quite right… I'm more like the result of a merger of two souls... two consciousnesses of completely different people. However, I couldn't say for sure which one I was more. You can't be certain of anything. The situation is too unusual…
I am Arcturus-Corvus Armand Malfoy. Heir to the ancient and respected House of Malfoy. The eldest son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Who was I supposed to become? A worthy descendant of the line? A magnificent schemer? In time, perhaps, even head the family, and more. Or perhaps become a great wizard, a wealthy businessman, an innovator, the Minister of Magic… or maybe all of it, or nothing at all.
But that was only part of the truth. Because simultaneously, I remembered another life.
I am me… an ordinary student from a world without magic. Unfortunately, I can't remember my name from that world, as if a piece of my soul had been torn out. The name was like a word on the tip of my tongue, but no matter what you do — you can't recall it.
Yet I remember everything else. Russia, 2025. Studies, parties, dreams, goals, problems, work. It was all mine, but now it seemed distant, as if it wasn't me who had been thinking about how to retake Theoretical Mechanics in a month or how to please my thesis advisor to get that coveted diploma more easily. I always dreamed of a good tea coaster… a red one, especially.
Two lives. Two personalities. Which one is dominant? A difficult and yet simple question. I felt more like the eleven-year-old heir of a noble house, but at the same time, it felt so strange… fabricated, like this entire world, whose fate… the now nameless personality — that me — had read about in books, seen in films, and was even familiar with some fanfics about it.
Now that's a laugh… the heir of a pure-blooded and noble house with a part of a Muggle's soul… but was it even a Muggle's? I clutched my head in my hands, feeling panic growing inside. What kind of madness is this? Who am I? Where is reality?
The last thing I remembered from my life… from Arcturus's life — Father, Lucius Malfoy, was speaking with a Romanian ritualist. A complex mental ritual was being prepared, its goal to enhance my innate mental protection. It's harder to penetrate the mind of a pure-blood wizard possessing natural Occlumency, but it's still possible. Let alone Muggle-borns, whose protection is much weaker, their minds only slightly more secure than those of simple Muggles. Ordinary people lack even that protection entirely… I see… now I sympathize with them. In that other world, the other me didn't even possess magic… funny.
I remembered the ritual beginning. A soft light, a ritual pentagram drawn with the blood of some magical creature, the touch of magic on my consciousness, and a strange, even frightening sensation of itching. Altering something inside the most precious thing a person has… that which makes us human, was terrifying. And then — darkness, and all of this.
My mind tried to find a rational explanation, but there was none. I slowly spiraled into a whirlpool of emotions and thoughts changing faster than frames in Muggle films. It was most likely a panic attack, but realizing that didn't help me find any answers. "This is a dream. Or a hallucination. This can't be happening! What the hell? Who did this to me? I didn't consent to this!" which soon gave way to bargaining with myself. "What if it's just temporary? Maybe I'll wake up? Or… or I can find a way to fix everything? But even if that's possible… what now!?"
In the end, only one, single, true thought remained in my head. Nothing will change if I have a hysterical fit. I need to think, not panic. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The first rays of sunlight had long since penetrated my room through the small gap between the heavy curtains.
I gathered my strength, got out of bed, and walked towards the mirror. A boy looked back at me from the reflection. Not an ordinary one, though. After all, I wasn't an ordinary guy.
Pale skin, sharp facial features, high cheekbones without any consciousness-scarring defects, piercing blue eyes, and this entire aristocratic image was completed by hair the color of platinum.
Blue blood — noble ancestors who for hundreds of years influenced the history of all Britain and beyond. A glorious family history stretching back to the times of William the Conqueror. I was above others simply by right of birth. Is that fair? Of course not, but when you're on this side, you don't care about that fairness. And it's not hypocrisy… you simply value the labor of your ancestors, each of whom did everything so that their descendants would live better. But that's not the point.
Looking into those blue eyes — the kind that could make one narcissistic — I noticed the eyes of that "me" who had lived a bit longer and had managed to gain some life experience. Eyes that shouldn't belong to an eleven-year-old child, even one like me. But to hell with all that; if I don't sort this out now, it will shatter my identity.
Yes, I remember that life, but now I live here, in this body, and if I had to choose where to live… I would, without a doubt, choose the life of a wizard. Who didn't dream in childhood of that coveted letter from Hogwarts, who didn't dream of becoming a magician — to command reality itself just through ephemeral magic…
Definitively… I've decided!
I am Arcturus Malfoy. I am 11 years old. Soon, I will go to Hogwarts, and that says it all. There is only one "Me" and that's it! Nothing happened; the ritual was successful. And everything in my head… that's my business now. No one will find out about this… no one, ever!