A Summoner in the Wizarding World

Chapter 2: Hogwarts Castle

Hermione did not choose wander about and noticeably relaxed after confirming that I am, like her, a bookworm. From then on, our ride was surprisingly uneventful - without the interrupting red-heads and aristocrats - as both of us enjoyed the comfortable silence while reading and occasionally exchange bits from our books.

The moment lasted slightly too short for my liking, however, as we soon left the carriage to the ringing bell and Hagrid's booming voice. The latter roared over all sorts of chattering first-years, drawing their attention to the gruff half-giant.

"Firsties over 'ere!"

The Gamekeeper held aloft a lantern, its vibrance casting shadows on his enormous frame and the shifting waves behind him. Nervous yet excited, Hermione and I strolled towards Hagrid with other bewildered first-years, leaving our trunks on the carriage.

The wild man gave me a crinkly wink, his gruff beard lifting into something that might have been a smile.

"Doin' alrigh', 'Arry?"

I nodded in return, having already met the giant - as Harry, no less - about two weeks prior. Hermione, however, looked at me with a mix of curiosity and surprise.

"You know him?" she questioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hagrid was the one who brought me to Diagon Alley."

The girl's eyes widened as she recalled:

"Professor McGonagall brought me. You wouldn't believe it, but she transformed into a cat in front of my parents just to prove magic is real! My father broke his favorite mug when he saw it - from what I read over the summer, that must be extremely advanced human transfiguration!"

"That's Professor McGonagall alright - I hear she's one of the best in the country, just after Dumbledore! Did you know..."

Of course, it's not just any transfiguration but Animagus - a curious, occult-like magic that can be performed by the most talented wizards and three schoolboys barely sixteen. Not to burst her bubble, though, I listened fervently and gave unprovable 'facts' to mess the girl up - all in good fun, of course.

On another note, our 'conversation' (my gaslighting) was interrupted by loud gasps. Across the lake, the magnificent silhouette of Hogwarts Castle loomed, its dark stone illuminated by countless dim lights like a thousand watchful eyes. The centuries-old Gothic architecture bathed in an ethereal glow, its uneven towers piercing the twilight sky like those haunted castles cliche.

"Hogwarts: A History said the four founders first sailed to Hogwarts in boats just like these!" Hermione quoted almost word by word, with eyes wide open in wonder. "That's why all first-years have to make the journey."

I nodded silently - which Potterhead wouldn't know this? Only now, the 'stories' aren't just fiction but tangible history, connected to the very magic that laid dormant in Hogwart's walls. As the boats near, murmurs grew quiet, replaced by a palpable anticipation. Having dreamt of this moment for a lifetime, and now, magic was finally within my grasp.

Stepping onto the solid jetty, I remembered those sleepless nights dreaming about the magical castle, waving wand and not have to worry about anything. Together with Hermione, I followed the first-years towards the towering doors - and my future.

I took a deep breath, taking in the scent of old parchment and burning oil - within it, an indescribable warmth.

I was... home.

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Headmaster's Office, West Towers

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stared out of the windows to the first-years in his magenta robes. It has been 11 years since Riddle's disappearance, yet, while others celebrated, went on with their lives and forget the terrible War, Albus could not find rest. Paranoia gripped him as he feared that, from those innocent students, any one could become another Dark Lord.

More than anyone, Albus knew the allure of power, having seen Dark Magic corrode the mind all too many times. Despite personally hunting down and doing his fair share of torture and murder 'for the greater good' over the last decade, to some of whom are associates, close friends, even comrades that fought Grindelwald, Dumbledore could not see the end.

Every time he eliminated a Dark Wizard, nine more causes chaos. At the height of the war, in Azkaban, some were not a day older than 20. The Great Wizard is convinced these sacrifices are necessary.

And just as the first years pass the gates, Albus felt an unknown magic, one far surpassing even the wand in his hands. For a moment, the White Wizard, wished to nip it in the bud - imprison, experiment, perhaps granting a painless death.

But Dumbledore didn't do it. Or rather, he couldn't. Just as he couldn't all those years ago, facing an inquisitive child. Ashamed of his pointless hope, Dumbledore desperately wished to be proven wrong, that his faith in innocence was not unfounded.

"Severus," he spoke without looking back, "please keep an eye on Quirrel for me."