August 1991. Devon, England.
Just north of Ottery St Catchpole stood a lush green hill. Atop it sat an old-fashioned European house, its lawn meticulously trimmed. Sunlight painted the plane trees by the garden wall in a burnished gold.
A long-eared owl flew in from afar, its talons clutching a heavy brown envelope. It circled twice in the air before alighting on the windowsill.
Tap-tap. The owl rapped the glass with its beak.
The window opened to reveal a black-haired boy with natural curls. Handsome and neatly dressed, he made an instantly likable impression.
He took the letter. It was heavy parchment, sealed with wax and stamped with the Weasley crest.
"You flew over two hills just for this?" Damian stroked the owl's head and offered it a dried fish.
Damian's home was actually quite close to The Burrow; both properties lay just outside the village boundaries.
Just then, a black cat crept forward on its belly. Once it was near the owl, it sprang, pouncing in a flash!
Startled, the owl flapped frantically to escape. But mid-air, the cat was yanked backward toward Damian. He caught the feline one-handed and tucked it firmly under his arm.
Had this been Charms Class, Professor Flitwick would have awarded ten points to Slytherin for Damian's flawless non-verbal casting.
"Don't be rude. We have a guest, Preserved Egg," Damian scolded mildly, smoothing the cat's ruffled fur.
Preserved Egg was a black cat with strong Kneazle blood. It boasted an agility that seemed to defy shadows and an intelligence that rivaled a human child's.
"Mrrrow~~" Preserved Egg nuzzled Damian, its tail flicking in protest while its blue eyes never left the bird.
While Damian read the letter, Preserved Egg lay across his lap, locked in a tense staring contest with the owl.
Damian Black was fourteen years old. He was a Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, currently home for the summer break, and would be entering his third year come September.
He was also a transmigrator. An accident in his past life had sent him to this world with his memories perfectly intact. Sadly, he had never read the actual books—he'd only watched only the films.
His previous life had been utterly unremarkable. But in this magical world, his talent was superb. His spell-casting already surpassed that of many adult wizards.
"Goodbye, Hermes." He handed a quick reply to the owl, which took off in evident haste.
Hermes was Percy Weasley's owl, a handsome reward for becoming a prefect. Fred and George, green with envy, had spent the entire holiday inventing wild excuses to borrow Hermes from their older brother.
With the owl gone, Damian checked the time and returned to clearing out his storeroom. He brewed potions often and desperately needed the space for a proper laboratory.
Most of the heavy lifting was done; only the finishing touches remained.
"Preserved Egg, you're turning into a dust-ball," Damian sighed, looking at his ash-covered cat. Felines were naturally curious, forever squeezing into the grimiest corners.
Damian tapped the cat with his wand. A quick Scouring Charm vanished the grime instantly.
"What did you find? Let me see." He had spotted something clutched in the cat's mouth.
He extracted a ring-shaped metal disc. It was scarred by time, its rim set with a flawless, polygonal red crystal.
A thread of magic pulsed within the disc—barely perceptible. Had Damian's magical senses been ordinary, he might have missed it entirely.
"What is this?" he muttered. He had never seen the object before. The locked storeroom was supposed to hold only old heirlooms left behind by his parents and grandparents.
Suddenly, the crystal glowed a faint, ominous red.
Damian's face fell. The disc was draining his magical core at an alarming rate!
He immediately tried to sever the connection and cut the flow of magic. Yet, even without his input, the crystal only blazed brighter.
He tried to hurl the object out the window, but the disc clung to his palm like a Sticking Charm.
Crimson light swallowed his vision.
He found himself entirely paralyzed. It felt as though his body was being violently squeezed through a narrow rubber tube, sinking fast.
The sickening weightlessness of a falling elevator rose in his stomach as every sound around him abruptly receded.
The world stretched into blurred ghost-images, followed by a violent strike of vertigo.
When the spinning finally faded, he found himself surrounded by stark white. Snow-laden trees loomed around him, and a sharp, biting wind drove powdery flakes into his eyes.
A bone-deep cold made him shiver violently. Each breath felt like it was freezing his lungs solid.
Damian's face darkened. That strange disc had flung him to an entirely unknown location.
"A Portkey? No—the disc is gone. A one-way transfer?" He frowned, his expression grim.
His left hand was entirely empty; the metal disc had vanished unnoticed.
Luckily, he had been holding his wand while clearing the storeroom. It had made the journey with him.
He waved his wand smoothly, transfiguring his neat shirt and waistcoat into a thick, heavy travelling cloak. He altered the inner layers into warm wool to stave off the freezing air.
Suddenly, the umbrella-shaped trees around him lurched to life. Arm-thick branches whipped viciously toward him.
Damian raised his wand. A sharp whistle sliced the air. "Diffindo!"
A glowing Severing Charm cleanly chopped through several of the limbs, sending them writhing to the snow-covered ground.
Before he could even draw breath, more branches snaked in, weaving a serpent's nest meant to crush him.
"Incendio!"
He thrust his wand high. Roaring jets of flame burst outward, forcefully beating the branches back. He spun the wand in a tight arc, feeding more magical energy to the fire.
A ring of fire walled him off from the attacking flora. The burning limbs lashed out wildly, like a thousand fiery serpents trapped in the blaze.
He thrust the wand forward. A surging wave of flame punched a clear path straight through the blazing vines.
Dumbledore's fire-path in the crystal cave was a famous movie moment. Damian had watched the clips; the image was permanently etched into his memory.
Damian's version merely combined a standard Incendio with precise flame-control—it was far weaker. Had Dumbledore cast it, these aggressive magical plants would already be a pile of ash.
Besides, he could only manage common magical fire, not the effortless, destructive power of Fiendfyre.
With the burning branches momentarily scattered, he sprinted into a nearby mountain path. He raced downhill before the plants could recover and mount another attack.
The bitter wind and blinding snow cut his visibility to near zero. The narrow trail was treacherous; a single misstep would send him plummeting into the icy valley below.
Once he was finally clear of the grove, he bent over, gasping. The freezing air stabbed at his throat like swallowed needles.
Glancing back up the slope, he saw a colossal ancient tree dominating the peak, its massive limbs arching into a perfect umbrella-crown.
Closer inspection revealed knotted, pulsating growths along its branches. They looked like giant, tumor-ridden serpents writhing against the gray sky.
"A magical plant? It's a species I've never seen in Herbology." Worry flickered in his eyes. This place was incredibly dangerous.
He checked his pockets, finding only two chocolate bars. The sudden transfer had left his pouch with its Undetectable Extension Charm far behind in his Devon storeroom. He needed to find human habitation, and fast—food would be desperately scarce out here.
Suddenly, he froze in his tracks. A massive stream of strange information surged directly into his mind...
Every 100 stones = 1 EXTRA CHAPTER