Uvuv: Hah, I'm glad you liked the chapter! Yes, the RoR is planned, but our protagonist has clearly forgotten about it. :D We'll find it somehow in the future! I like that you thought of trading items for books from Borgin — that was actually planned from the very beginning :D.
steelalbatross5000: Yes, I know — but everything has its own story. Don't worry, soon we'll learn the story of our MC's birth as well as the problems of the Mulciber family, more precisely in the next chapter. Regarding Davis, I'm aware of that, but our MC forgot her name. As for Runcorn, I wasn't sure — according to the wiki she could have been sorted into different houses, not strictly Slytherin, so we'll see whether we end up using her.
Nudu13: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I might disappoint you, but our MC isn't interested in other people and he's not a typical good guy either. In this chapter, he honestly explained why he stood up for Agnes. I agree — the RoR is planned. As for the games and the title, unfortunately that's an issue. At the moment I've only completed about 20% of the story, I don't know the full game plot, and to be honest I don't really have time to play right now. I'll take inspiration from some things, though I'm not sure how much. Thank you! I really appreciate your comment and words of support.
***
The next day was interesting. Already at breakfast, I could feel the others from my house watching me cautiously. However, I didn't see anyone who was explicitly angry with me for that duel with Rookwood or for standing up for Agnes DeMille.
I continued eating my breakfast in peace. I wasn't tense, nor did I wonder if someone might decide to hurt me. I was confident in my abilities, though I must admit that Rookwood's Accio had caught me off guard. Interestingly, he hadn't used any Dark Arts—it was all neutral spells. It surprised me a little, and in the back of my mind, I was curious why he hadn't gone further.
I was nearly finished when Agnes sat down next to me with a quiet greeting. I could feel her tension, and the dark circles under her eyes suggested she hadn't slept much. Was she afraid of rejection?
"Good morning, Agnes," I replied in a calm tone.
"Thank you for standing up for me yesterday, Patrik," she whispered, her voice tinged with relief, yet still heavy with fear.
"Don't mention it, Agnes. You aren't responsible for your father's actions. Maybe now you'll have a chance to make some friends, now that I've put Rookwood in his place," I replied.
Truthfully, though, I knew I was her only chance. She was a pure-blood witch whom the other houses made clear did not belong among them. The Light and Neutral families hadn't forgotten that her father was a Death Eater, and the Dark ones hadn't forgiven his betrayal. It was no surprise that Agnes was mentally "older" than the other children. That made her an ideal companion for my magical growth—and perhaps someone I could rely on in the future. After all, she would owe me everything. And if she feels nothing but contempt from everyone else while receiving none from me... well, draw your own conclusions.
Agnes shook her head sadly and replied with a bitter smile: "No, it's not just Rookwood. There's Mulciber and others... my father may not have betrayed them directly, but traitors aren't forgiven. I'll always just be the traitor's daughter, and no one wants alliances with families like that."
"There are other houses, Agnes," I said with a slight smile.
She let out a derisive snort and spoke with an ironic smirk: "Of course. Because they'll surely be more tolerant of a Death Eater's daughter. Please, don't take me for a fool, Patrik. You didn't stand up for me just out of the goodness of your heart," she said with surprising courage, looking me straight in the eye.
"Honestly?" I asked, with undisguised amusement in my eyes.
She was more interesting than I had originally thought. Despite the cruelty she faced, she wasn't broken. She might actually be quite fun. I also had to admit something else—something I had been pushing aside until now. I missed real human contact. For three years, I had been part of this magical world, and in all that time, I hadn't known a deep relationship. Only endless training, studying, and preparing for battle. And that isn't what life is all about.
Agnes simply nodded and waited with expectation and hope for what I would say. I hoped she wasn't expecting a romantic confession... although I could imagine her becoming a very attractive woman in the future. Right now, however, I was looking for something entirely different.
"Completely honestly? That endless bullying you were going through was getting on my nerves. I wouldn't mind at all if it happened once in a while, or if Farley or Snape at least dealt with it... but no one wanted to help you, and I genuinely felt sorry for you. I happened to be angrier than usual that day, and Rookwood was a perfect candidate to blow off some steam on," I said, looking her directly in the eyes.
Agnes froze for a moment. She expected a calculation or an insult, but the mixture of pity and harsh truth disarmed her. She quickly recovered, though, and asked matter-of-factly with a neutral expression: "So you're not after my family's money and power? You're not interested in an alliance?"
Although she tried to act cold, as a powerful Legilimens, I felt her deep relief. I also noticed the stares of the other Slytherins; those closest to us were devouring our every word. I didn't care. I wasn't saying anything that needed to stay secret.
"Money? Power? Alliance?" I repeated mockingly. I didn't wait for an answer. "I have my own money. I have my own power, which is also my only alliance." With a smile, I stretched my hand out in front of me, and a bright, vivid flame flared up directly in my palm.
I enjoyed her wonder. My wandless magic immediately drew the attention of the entire hall, including the staff table.
"Agnes, you are a witch," I told her in a firm voice. "Money and power are within reach of every wizard. You just have to be willing to take them."
I looked into her eyes and saw it—she was mine. It's the simple mathematics of power: offer food to the hungry, water to the thirsty, company to the lonely, and power to the powerless... Agnes was both lonely and powerless. For a moment, I felt like a devil handing her a contract for her soul.
The difference, however, was that I didn't mean her harm. Realistically, she didn't have many chances with the other students in this school. It was a deal from which we would both profit. I would gain a training partner I could trust, and she would gain a teacher of magic, power, and perhaps something she had lacked until now—true friendship.
Our conversation had other benefits, at least for me. Many first-years were sitting around me in our part of the table... and what average Slytherin wouldn't crave power? Both Nott and Yaxley looked genuinely intrigued by my wandless magic and the idea of "power that must be taken."
I didn't want followers like Voldemort. I didn't need fanatics who would blindly follow orders and tremble before my wand. I needed strong wizards who would grow alongside me. My philosophy was clear: diamond cuts diamond. Only by clashing with powerful wizards and sharp minds can I move forward.
From our year, only Nott and Yaxley seemed to have the right "mindset" for true power so far. Or at least they understood that power isn't free and requires hard work and study.
Agnes was pensive and visibly lost in thought, but breakfast was over. Around us, the noise was slowly dying down as students dispersed to their classes.
"Agnes, we have Potions first," I said, starting to get up from the table.
She followed me without a word. I felt her presence right behind me as we descended the stone stairs into the cold corridors of the dungeons.
***
POV: Albus Dumbledore
I had been watching Patrik Rosier since the beginning of the school year. He was a boy full of contradictions. According to reports from other teachers, he mastered the material with admirable ease, and his essays were flawless. He usually cast spells on the first try, yet he had absolutely no interest in participating in class. He didn't raise his hand; he didn't seek attention. He didn't crave recognition, house points left him cold, and he showed not the slightest interest in friendships with his peers. He was a perfect loner.
In many ways, he reminded me of a young Tom Riddle. But there were differences, and those troubled me the most. Tom was actively involved in lessons, loved demonstrating his intellectual superiority, and collected points for Slytherin. Tom tried to control others and build a network of contacts from day one, while Patrik ignored them all—even his own cousin.
So far, Patrik had shown no aggressive tendencies, which gave me a momentary sense of relief. Nevertheless, deep down, I hoped he would eventually find friends and perhaps even love. I don't know if I would have enough strength left to survive the rise of a third Dark Lord.
One morning, my sense of relief ended for good. One look at the Slytherin table was enough to know that something had happened. The usual hum of conversation wasn't coming from the table; instead, there was a quiet, excited whisper. It was the kind of hushed tone that discusses something secret, something meant to stay hidden from the ears of other houses.
With a painful sting in my heart, I remembered Tom and his classmates in their third year. That same quiet whispering and tension... From that day on, everyone in Slytherin followed Tom Riddle. That was when they stopped acting like classmates and started acting like followers.
I knew Patrik was a key part of whatever had occurred in the house. As he entered the hall, the entire house watched him secretly and with anticipation.
However, Patrik didn't stay alone for long. Agnes DeMille—the daughter of the Death Eater who betrayed his colleagues—found her way to him. I asked myself: "Did Patrik find enough compassion within himself for her difficult situation, or is there something darker behind it?"
I watched their conversation with bated breath. For the first time, I saw something resembling a genuine smile on Patrik, and I caught glimmers of real amusement in his eyes. The tension that had gripped me since the start of breakfast gradually began to fade. It seemed to be a sincere, friendly conversation led by compassion. Though I didn't know what they were talking about, the visible relief in Miss DeMille's shoulders and Patrik's smile filled me with the conviction that it couldn't be anything bad.
I knew I wasn't the only one watching them. Severus had been pondering for some time how to solve the problem with Agnes. It was a difficult nut for him to crack, as he had to maintain his mask as a Lord Voldemort sympathizer.
"He is not heartless," I sighed with a smile, and with a sense of relief, I turned my gaze toward the Gryffindor table. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat there in deep conversation, Ron explaining something to him with animated gestures—I assumed it was Quidditch.
Suddenly, however, the entire hall began to fall silent. It was an unnatural lull in sound that immediately jolted me out of my observation of Harry. I didn't know the cause, so I began to search for the source of that sudden, chilling silence.
Until I found it.
Of course. It was a nightmare becoming a reality right before my eyes.
Patrik Rosier had fire in his palm. His hand wasn't burning, nor was it an uncontrolled burst of accidental magic... It was a direct, cold-blooded manipulation of the element without a wand. And that conversation with Agnes DeMille? It wasn't some compassionate talk between two lost souls. It was recruitment. The forging of the first link in a chain.
"For fuck's sake," I sighed aloud.
Lord Voldemort also had an affinity for fire magic; I remembered reports from the end of the war where flames burned down entire Muggle villages. But not even Tom Riddle... not even he had the power to effortlessly and so publicly control fire without a wand in his first year.
This wasn't just talent.
***
Today's chapter is a bit shorter, but we gained Agnes, learned why he helped her, and how he views alliances. Honestly, I can't imagine ending up in a world where power can be gained through training (the growth of one's magical core) and then choosing to deceive others or falsely ingratiate myself with them. With a flick of a wand, a wizard can gain almost anything, and magical power is everything in this world. At Hogwarts, he is relatively safe; outside of it, he stays cautious (hood, dagger, etc.).
Is our protagonist stronger than Voldemort was in his first year? Definitely.
From the age of eight, our protagonist trained constantly and relentlessly, expanding his magical core. It was his main focus—his obsession, really.
To be honest, even someone like Draco Malfoy could be incredibly powerful if he trained nonstop. But as we know children, they want to play Quidditch, run around, read fairy tales—not study boring books on magical theory or spend months trying to lift a feather with their mind like our protagonist did.
Dumbledore received another shock and mistakenly believes that our MC's affinity is fire. This will be fun to explore in the future.
If you like the story, I'll be grateful for every comment, like, or discussion. Your interaction is what motivates me most to continue creating! :)
P.S.: A Discord server is planned—I might get to it sometime next week. The fanfictions I read the most are Harry Potter, Naruto, and occasionally Pokémon, so I believe we'll be able to recommend some great FFs to each other.
There will also be the first story-related poll on Discord (I'll keep what it's about a surprise for now).