In a dark corner of London.
Philip ran at full speed after realizing someone was following him—something he noticed thanks to one of the creatures accompanying him on his journey to deliver the letter to the "dwarf."
The creature, a bluish reptile, was able to see through the stalker's stealth spell—something no wizard could have done without special artifacts.
The tiny lizard, tucked into the front pocket of Philip's cloak, communicated with him by changing the color of its tail. When Philip saw the tail turn a reddish hue for the first time on the entire trip, he immediately quickened his pace, trying to slip away from whoever was following him.
Fully aware of the risk of losing the letter, Philip pressed forward without stopping or hesitating for a second. Checking the tracker, he realized that every possible path led to the same place… the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Philip's first thought was that it might be a professor, or perhaps one of the castle staff—but nothing could have been further from the truth.
Even after weaving through crowded subway stations and traveling side to side with Floo Powder, it was nearly impossible to shake off the pursuer. In the end, only one option remained: face him directly.
With a mix of cleverness and recklessness, Philip slipped into a dark alley where only garbage containers and a few sewer rats searching for scraps were found.
"Alright, come out of hiding. I know you're here," Philip said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"Well, I didn't expect you to seek such a direct confrontation," a man replied, appearing instantly before him.
"What do you want? What are you after?" Philip demanded, drawing his wand swiftly and pointing it at the man, whose face was hidden in the shadows.
"You know what I want. That thing you're carrying belongs to us, and apparently, you took it," the man said, stepping closer into the light.
"This doesn't belong to you—and certainly not her. You won't find her. I won't allow it. You'll have to go through my corpse first." Philip stood firm, retreating slowly as the man advanced.
Little by little, the moonlight revealed the pursuer: a tall, broad man dressed completely in black, bald, with dark skin and a scar across his face—most notably, his right eye, completely white. His very presence inspired fear.
"No need to get worked up, man. I was a bit rude following you without introducing myself. My name is Filvor—one of the best hunters in this country. So let's save ourselves the trouble. Hand that over and tell me where to find the creature, and no one gets hurt," Filvor said calmly.
"You'll have to catch me first," Philip replied, just before a loud roar echoed in the sky. The sound distracted the hunter for an instant—long enough for Philip to blast him backwards into one of the dumpsters.
Using a spell to propel himself upward, Philip leapt high enough for the creature circling in the skies to swoop down, grab him with its talons, and carry him away.
"See you, Filvor. It's been a pleasure. I'm Philip, and from now on, I'll be known as the prey you'll never catch," he shouted, confident he had finally escaped the hunter.
Filvor rose from the trash, glaring as Philip vanished into the distance.
Turning away, he headed toward the first phone booth he spotted on the street and made a call.
"My lord… everything went according to plan. I'll proceed with phase two," Filvor said, a macabre smile spreading across his face.
"So, the prey I couldn't catch… let's see how long you can hold onto that, Philip," he added before disappearing once more into the darkness.
Meanwhile, Philip soared through the skies, unaware he was still being watched. A bird, seemingly ordinary at first glance, tracked him from above. But this bird bore the same scar as Filvor on its right eye. Rather than impairing its vision, the mark connected it to Filvor, allowing him to see everything the bird saw. This unique ability was the reason Filvor was known among the Death Eaters as the man who sees on land and in the sky.
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Hogwarts — Four days after arrival
In the past few days, I've had the chance to attend several classes. To be honest, they aren't much different from my old academy's curriculum—quite easy to manage. That's why I take every spare moment to sneak away to a practice area Patrick discovered.
I've also spoken more with Patrick. After Potions class, I grew curious—how could someone so young have such extensive knowledge of potions? Even though he isn't great with spells, he learns faster than expected in potions and other subjects.
Patrick comes from an alchemist family. Much of his childhood was spent watching potions and elixirs being brewed—tools to aid wizards in dungeon expeditions or everyday life. While he still has much to learn, he's remarkably skilled for his age. Phylicia, meanwhile, has grown closer to us. Her behavior remains violent, especially toward Patrick—their fights have become part of my daily routine here.
Though a bit scatterbrained, Phylicia excels in spellwork compared to Patrick. Her spells are strong and precise. Sometimes they've put Patrick and me at risk, but I've come to understand her power better.
I don't know where they were before—or if they even survived the Great Calamity—but I know they'll be a great help to me, and to everyone, in the approaching future.
As for the gem, it hasn't caused any trouble these days. I thought perhaps casting a powerful spell might trigger it somehow, but nothing has happened. Iolite, on the other hand, escaped her cage the very first day before reaching the room. Nobody—not even the staff—understood how, but she managed it.
That night, while I slept, she appeared suddenly on my chest and curled up there. Nothing unusual has happened with her since, so I suppose everything is fine.
The only annoyance has been the three bullies who harassed Patrick and me on the train. They constantly throw water balloons, set traps, or pull pranks to bother us. Fortunately, since we discovered the training spot, their interruptions have lessened.
For now, days pass peacefully. Nothing has gotten out of control. I've spent most of my time training, improving my magic and control so I can advance faster—and hopefully reach the level I had before coming back here.
If I can regain that level before the third year, I'll be able to start recruiting others for what's to come. And, of course, begin the search for the Horcruxes—the soul fragments that nearly destroyed both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.