Raven's Sensation

Yo,

I have an exciting announcement: Broken Shackles has surpassed the 200K word mark a while ago! That's right, over two hundred thousand words of magic, friendship, adventure, and, of course, breaking those metaphorical shackles! This incredible feat could never have been achieved without your amazing support, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

You can read till Chapter 45 chapters of Broken Shackles are available on my pa#tron page. If you like to stay ahead, you can find them there.

patron . Com / blackinfinity1289

Before we dive into our newest chap, there is one last thing-

Here's a link to my super private server on discord where I'll keep on updating sneak peeks of the chapters, Character designs and where you can freely talk and ask things regarding my fics directly from me. I'm most active there:

It's a relatively new server, so please show some love <3< p>

Link: discord . Gg / SPsSwAcq4b

Remove the spaces

Name: Black Dawn

As always, thank you for your continued love and support.

Enjoy.

Broken Shackles

Chapter 34

Raven's Sensation

9th June 1994

No.4 Privet Drive

In a surprising turn of events, the Dursleys were having a genuinely happy dinner. Far away from the thoughts of Harry returning and torturing them. Vernon, who is considerably slim compared to how he was last year, had just secured a big deal at Churnings, Petunia grew into a woman more than a giraffe due to eating to get her energy back for the parlour.

As Dudley has school, the burden to pay £3000 fell on the Dursley couple and they worked very hard to meet the expectations of their wayward relative who they knew wouldn't tolerate their excuses.

Dudley had recently won his boxing match, a possibility because of his muscled body after his work in the summer. The atmosphere is positively jovial—until the door burst open, and Harry stepped in with a wide smile.

As they saw, the Harry in front of them was a far cry from the boy they once knew, wearing elegant robes that seemed to be woven from shadows and moonlight, he looked powerful, confident, and most of all, wizardly. There is no lightning-shaped scar visible on his forehead, but a rune-like mark that seemed to shimmer on its own.

Vernon choked on his roast, Petunia dropped her spoon, clattering loudly, and Dudley simply stared, his mouth hanging open.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," Harry said, his voice tinged with irony. "I just stopped by to tell you that you won't have to worry about me ever again."

"What is the meaning of this, boy?" Vernon sputtered, regaining some of his voice but losing all his earlier cheer.

"Boy? Are you forgetting something, Vernon?" Harry asked, his voice cold as the Arctic. Vernon shuddered as soon as he heard the chilly tone and asked again.

"What are you doing here, Harry?" his voice full of respect and an octave lower than his high-pitched angry outburst earlier.

"That's better," Harry said in satisfaction. Harry's eyes gleamed knowing what he was about to say. "I'm emancipated now, legally and magically. I've come into my inheritance and, to put it bluntly, I'm no longer your burden or responsibility."

Petunia, despite her shock, found her voice. "You can't just barge in here and—"

"Oh, but I can," Harry interrupted, casually waving his hand. The air around him seemed to ripple as if acknowledging his newfound authority. "You see, I now have legal and magical protections that you can't even begin to comprehend. So, yes, I can 'barge in here,' as you so eloquently put it."

Harry took a step closer, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree or two. "In fact, I came here as a courtesy. This is your chance to acknowledge that I'm free from your mistreatment."

Vernon's face turned a shade paler but he mustered his courage to speak. "And why should we believe you? What's this nonsense about magical or whatever freakish protections you have?"

Harry smirked, conjuring a small ball of light in the palm of his hand and extinguishing it just as quickly. "Let's just say, testing my claim would not end well for you."

Dudley finally broke his stunned silence. "So, you're saying you're not coming back? At all?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, my dear cousin." Harry nodded.

"Then what will happen to you?" Petunia asked, her voice tinged with something that Harry couldn't quite identify—perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe even concern.

"That's really none of your business, but to satisfy your curiosity, I'll be staying in my own place, managing my own affairs with the guidance of a strong and ancient wizard." Harry made up the last part as he didn't want to risk Dumbledore knowing he got his own place to live now.

Though he is fed up with hiding all his plans from the old man, it is necessary for the time being till he leaves Harry for good or has a bigger distraction which makes him busy to focus on his every move.

"Your own place?" Vernon scoffed. "You're just a kid."

"A kid with an inheritance, powerful magical guardians, and the ability to turn invisible at will," Harry countered. "Age is just a number in my world, Vernon. Respect and authority come with power and responsibility, not years. Moreover, aren't you 'old' but what good are you to society aside from pigging on anything you get your hands on?" Harry retorted.

He took another moment to look at each of them, letting the weight of his words sink in. "I have no intention of disrupting your lives further. But you will continue to pay your £3000 monthly without fail, if Dudley marries, that will bump to £5000. Consider this a final goodbye. Unless you make me visit you." He said in a warning tone and turned to leave.

"Wait," Petunia spoke up, surprising even herself. "Are you... are you going to be safe?"

Harry locked eyes with his aunt. "I'll be safer than I've ever been with you."

There is a silence that filled the room, punctuated only by the distant ticking of a clock.

"Then," Petunia finally broke the silence, "Goodbye, Harry." her voice almost cracked at the end.

"Goodbye," Harry echoed. And with a swish of his robes, he vanished from No.4 Privet Drive, possibly to never return.

He thought of many ways of doing this, but in the end, he decided to not even ask them to keep up the pretence of him living there. He doesn't need to. He didn't want to be in their debt for doing any kind of favour and so he left with a simple goodbye.

And just like that, Harry was gone, leaving behind the chains that had once bound him to No.4 Privet Drive and stepping into a world full of limitless possibilities.

Vernon is the first to break the silence as Harry left, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What just happened?"

"I—I don't know, Vernon," Petunia stammered, still gripping her napkin tightly in her lap.

Dudley, who has been silently staring at the spot where Harry had stood, finally spoke. "He looked different, didn't he? Stronger... and that mark on his forehead."

"Yes, he did," Petunia admitted, her eyes narrowing as if trying to decode a complex puzzle. "This isn't the Harry we knew. This is someone... someone entirely different."

Vernon pushed his plate away, suddenly finding his appetite lost. "Well, one thing's for sure, if he says he's not our problem anymore, I won't be the one to argue. Good riddance, I say."

Petunia nodded slowly, but her eyes are clouded with something unidentifiable—regret, perhaps, or maybe even a touch of shame. "Yes, Vernon, maybe you're right. Maybe it's better this way—for all of us."

Dudley, who has been quiet, finally spoke up, "Mum, Dad, don't you wonder what he meant by 'coming into his inheritance' and being 'legally and magically emancipated?'"

Vernon shook his head dismissively. "I don't care to know anything about their world. It's nothing but trouble."

But as they tried to resume their meal, each found it difficult to shake off the feeling that they had just witnessed a significant moment, a turning point not just in Harry's life but in their own as well.

The rest of the dinner was a quiet affair, each lost in their thoughts, unable to shake off the impact of Harry's sudden and dramatic appearance and exit. Though they didn't say it aloud, each knew that their lives have been irrevocably altered. Even if Harry never set foot in their home again, his shadow—now more formidable than ever—would linger in their lives, a constant reminder of the world they have never really understood and had always feared.

And so, they cleared the table, did the dishes, and retired for the night, each wrestling with their own tangled emotions, yet united in one undeniable fact: the boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs was gone, leaving behind a young man they scarcely recognized. And whether they liked it or not, Harry Potter is now a chapter in their lives that is well and truly closed.

As Harry left Privet Drive, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders, like he had shed an old skin that had confined him for years. A sense of liberation surged through him; the freedom tasted sweet, almost heady. His lips curved into a smile as he apparated away, the Dursleys' house vanishing in the blink of an eye.

17th June 1994

Over the next week, Harry kept himself busy with his studies, exams and responsibilities at Hogwarts. He reconnected with his friends, delved deeper into his chosen apprenticeship topics, and even managed to spend some quality time flying around the Quidditch pitch. The days felt easier, lighter, as though a cloud of dread had finally dispersed, giving way to clear skies.

An uneventful week passed, and Harry found himself sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast. The morning sun streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the tables laden with food. Students chatted excitedly, their conversations a mix of end-of-year exams, the Quidditch World Cup, and the upcoming summer break.

He looked around the Great Hall—the long tables, the floating candles, the banners representing the four Hogwarts houses—and it struck him how much he had grown within these ancient walls in the last year. And how much more growing he had to do. Yet, for the first time in a very long time, he is excited about the future, excited about the endless possibilities that awaited him.

Yes, his life is far from perfect, and Harry knew that challenges lay ahead. But at that moment, seated in the Great Hall surrounded by friends and classmates, he felt happy. He is excited about the upcoming ritual and all his preparations were made.

Students were trickling in, visibly sleepy but also buzzing with a nervous energy—it's exam time and their nervousness can be understood. The Gryffindor table is a hodgepodge of textbooks, notes, and half-eaten breakfasts as students tried to cram in a few more minutes of studying before the start of the day and more exams.

"I can't believe we're still discussing who the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be," Seamus Finnigan muttered, his nose buried in a textbook. "Shouldn't we be more worried about the exams?"

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy charts. "Well, it's good to take a break sometimes, Seamus. And besides, the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam might be easier if we knew what to expect from the next teacher. It's our Headmaster this time."

"That's assuming there will be a next teacher," Ron chimed in. "Who knows, maybe they'll just give up and make it a self-study course. Couldn't be worse than Lockhart."

The table erupted in laughter at that. "I doubt that'll happen," said Dean Thomas. "Though it's hard to imagine anyone could be as good as Professor Lupin."

"You think Professor Lupin will be back next year?" Lavender Brown asked hopefully, pausing her doodling on the edge of her parchment.

"I don't know," said Neville, fiddling with his fork. "I heard some professors talking, and it sounded like they're looking for someone new."

"Too bad," said Ginny, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. "I actually learned something useful in Professor Lupin's class, no offence to the Headmaster."

The talk then quickly shifted gears. "Okay, no more teachers," Seamus declared. "My brain can't take it. Let's talk about Quidditch. Who's pumped for the World Cup this summer?"

"I wish I could go," said Neville wistfully. "My Gran's never let me."

"Viktor Krum, though," said Dean, practically salivating. "The guy's a genius on a broomstick."

Ron nodded vigorously. "It's going to be a match for the ages. Ireland vs. Bulgaria. I can't wait!"

Harry listened to the conversation unfold. He is too preoccupied with his own thoughts to participate, but the casual banter of Gryffindors is always welcome, the anticipation of the Quidditch World Cup, and the speculations about future teachers offered him a semblance of normality—something that felt short these days with him preparing for his ritual and testing Terry and Padma.

They have almost mastered Occlumency and Harry is teaching them their Patronus on the side and due to his slave-driving, they are still resting. His eyes momentarily turned to Cho, who sat with her group and talking about something. Her smile gave him relief and he went about his day, preparing for his last day of exams.

Exams will be over today and after a week of free time, and Harry performing his ritual, all of them will leave Hogwarts for summer break and Harry will start his apprenticeships at Gringotts. He is also going to receive the Quidditch Cup and House Cup in the Year-end Feast. That's the plan as of now not including Sirius's trail.

Evening

Great Hall

As the students sat relaxing after completing their final exam in the Great Hall, owls started swooping in through all windows and dropping papers, the headline said it all as everyone read through it.

—

Daily Prophet

Special Edition: 17th June 1994

SIRIUS BLACK: A MAN WRONGED OR A MINISTRY SCANDAL UNVEILED?

By Rita Skeeter

Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your hats and broomsticks, for I bring you a tale of twists and turns that have shaken the very core of our wizarding community. Sirius Black, the notorious supposed supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the man who was believed to have betrayed James and Lily Potter, has been granted a full trial, set for the 1st of July.

Yes, you read that right, dear readers. The same man whom Minister Cornelius Fudge himself referred to as a "menace to the society" and "categorically guilty" is now set to have his day in court.

Why you ask?

It was pointed out by an anonymous source that Sirius Black was never trailed for his crimes and was straight taken to Azkaban under then direct supervision of Ministry official and the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

A Failure for the Ministry?

Let us not forget the multiple statements made by the Minister himself and various Ministry officials, branding Sirius Black as an irredeemable criminal. Not only did they label him as guilty without a proper trial, but they also deployed Dementors to capture him, risking the well-being of the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a year now.

How could such a grave mistake occur under the nose of our esteemed Minister? This development casts a significant stain on Minister Fudge's record, as he faces questions about the efficacy of his leadership and his commitment to justice.

Questions, Questions

Should we not ask if due process is a luxury only a select few can enjoy? Or perhaps question how many more have been falsely accused and imprisoned without a fair trial? The fact that Sirius Black is receiving his trial only after an entire year of his escape speaks volumes about the labyrinthine inefficiencies and failings of our justice system.

A Man Wronged?

Those close to the matter whisper that compelling evidence exists to exonerate Sirius Black, including Veritaserum testimony and undisclosed revelations that could turn the entire case upside down. If he is found innocent, will an apology be enough for 12 years of imprisonment in Azkaban, not to mention the social exile he has suffered?

While Minister Fudge chose to remain tight-lipped on the matter, displaying a reluctance to comment, it was quite the opposite when it came to the ever-enthusiastic Dolores Umbridge.

Senior Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge, always keen to make her voice heard called this reporter and declared with a saccharine smile: "The Ministry is the epitome of justice and fairness. Anyone suggesting otherwise is clearly misguided. In fact, we plan to re-examine Mr Black's case with all the due diligence it deserves. I can assure the public that if Mr Black truly is innocent, the Ministry's fine investigative team will undoubtedly prove it."

Ah, but readers, should we really rely on the Ministry's 'fine investigative team' to sift through the complicated layers of this case? Especially when the same Ministry oversaw the enigmatic escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban, an event so mystifying that even the most seasoned experts find themselves puzzled.

And let's not forget Umbridge's use of the word 'if.' If Mr Black is innocent? As if the courts, the justice system, and the media frenzy haven't already pointed towards his wrongful imprisonment? One can't help but wonder whether her inflammatory statement is merely a mask to cover the Ministry's own shortcomings.

When someone as influential as Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge throws around insinuations as if they're Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, the public should rightly question: just what flavours of justice are we really being served?

One thing is certain, dear readers: come July 1st, either a man will be cleared, or a Ministry will be mired in disgrace. And you can be sure your faithful correspondent Rita Skeeter will be there to tell you all about it.

Whatever happens, you can trust the Daily Prophet to bring you all the latest updates, live from the courtroom on the 1st of July. This is one story you won't want to miss!

Stay Tuned

As the day of the trial draws near, all eyes will be on the Wizengamot chambers. Will justice prevail, or will this be another moment where the Ministry's inefficacies are laid bare for all to see? Rest assured, loyal readers, I will be there to cover every shocking detail and each scandalous revelation.

For a minute-by-minute account of the upcoming trial and a special analysis of its implications, subscribe to the Daily Prophet today!

—

Harry's eyes scanned the Daily Prophet article with the analytical precision of a politician, parsing each word, each insinuation, and each blatant attempt at sensationalism. It is clear to him that Rita Skeeter is aiming for a blend of scandal and inquisition, tugging at the public's incessant thirst for drama.

"The Ministry is the epitome of justice and fairness," Harry read Umbridge's statement with a derisive snort. "If there is ever a sentence rich in irony, that will be it."

His eyes narrowed at the part where Umbridge used the word 'if,' regarding Sirius Black's innocence. 'Merely a mask to cover the Ministry's own shortcomings,' he thought. Rita Skeeter has got one thing right: this case exposed the Ministry for what it is—a bureaucracy riddled with inefficiency and, most often, corruption.

"Will justice prevail, or will this be another moment where the Ministry's inefficacies are laid bare for all to see?" The question lingered in the air as Harry folded the paper neatly, setting it down on the table.

'Ah, Rita, you may be a sensationalist, but you do have an instinct for identifying the weaknesses in our systems,' Harry mused. 'If nothing else, this circus will force the Ministry into the public eye for scrutiny, and that's a check on its power that's long overdue.'

But for Harry, this is more personal than a mere exposé of Ministry incompetence. Sirius is family. Harry can not, will not, stand aside while the only real family he has left languished under false accusations.

'Come July 1st, the Ministry will indeed be mired in disgrace,' Harry concluded, a steely resolve settling over him. 'But it won't be because Sirius is guilty. It will be because they have failed to deliver justice, not just to him but to all of us who believe in a system that's supposed to protect us.'

Harry picked up a piece of parchment, his eyes sharp and focused. He needs to be prepared for what came next, not just for Sirius, but for the shakeup in the Ministry that is inevitably coming. And this time, Lord Potter and Sirius's Heir will not be a mere observer.

After reading the Daily Prophet's article, Harry's gaze lingered on the parchment for a moment, his eyes sharp and calculating. The exams had just ended, but his mind is already shifting gears to the 3rd ritual, which is a Knowledge Ritual scheduled for the 21st. Body, Mind and Knowledge. He counted the 3 that he did and is going to do till now.

Retreating to the quiet sanctuary of his private quarters in Ravenclaw Tower, a space adorned with celestial models and enigmatic magical artefacts needed for the ritual, Harry delved into his preparations. The rituals book lay open on his desk with ancient runes and symbols-filled sheets of parchment, and Harry consulted his annotations repeatedly to ensure that no detail was missed.

'The Knowledge Ritual is far too risky for mistakes,' Harry thought, well aware of the critical importance of each element. This ritual is an intricate, powerful method to gain wisdom. A single misstep could mean catastrophic consequences.

The air was thick with magical tension as he began to draw the ritual circle. Despite the looming complexity, his wand movements were deft, fueled by the discipline that defined him as a Ravenclaw. Multi-layered protective spells enveloped the inner Chamber, which has become his go-to ritual room, ensuring both secrecy and safety.

By the 19th of June, he had acquired all the specialised ingredients required for the ritual. Dobby had brought him some of the rarer components. The knowledge ritual needs more ingredients than the previous 2 he did and Harry didn't complain as they are not that hard to get by.

In the days leading up to the ritual, Harry was unyielding in his preparations. Repeated rehearsals, endless consultations with the ritual book's advanced texts, and simulated run-throughs took up his free time. As he already told his friends to not disturb him, they didn't distract him from his preparations on the free days following the completion of exams.

Finally, on the 21st of June, Harry felt ready. Standing in the middle of his meticulously crafted ritual circle, surrounded by the Chamber that seemed to hum with latent magical energy, Harry felt an unusual calm. It is a different kind of exam, one not set by professors but by fate and his own daring.

The ritual circle that Harry had carefully etched onto the cold stone floor of the Chamber is unlike any traditional design. At its centre is the symbol of a serpent eating its own tail, the Ouroboros—an ancient emblem that signifies the cycle of life, death, and rebirth filled with countless precisely carved runes to facilitate the knowledge transfer he presumed.

In the context of the Knowledge Ritual, the Ouroboros symbolise something more nuanced: the unending, cyclical nature of knowledge itself. Knowledge begets more questions, which in turn, lead to more knowledge in an eternal loop.

A few feet away from the intricate design, Harry paused to take a deep breath. He looked down at his Lord ring, a family heirloom and a mark of his status as Lord Potter-Slytherin. The ring glinted in the low light of the room, its emerald gem seeming to pulse with inner life. The lineage, the power, and the responsibilities it represented were immense, and they all converged in this singular moment.

With a sense of gravitas, he approached the circle. As he stepped over the boundary, he could feel a distinct shift in the magical atmosphere—the circle acknowledged him, recognized his intent, and waited for the spark that would set everything into motion.

Harry extended his wand hand, hovering the tip above the open mouth of the Ouroboros in the circle's centre. He then lowered his hand, allowing the Potter-Slytherin Lord ring to come into proximity with the snake's tail and mouth, effectively closing the loop. At that precise moment of Summer Solstice, he began the incantation, his voice unwavering and clear.

As the words left his lips, the emerald gem in his ring lit up, resonating with the etched Ouroboros on the ground. The snake design seemed to animate, its tail sliding into its mouth in a fluid motion. The circle glowed brighter, and Harry felt as if layers of hidden truths were peeling away before him, beckoning him to grasp them.

The magical current surged, coiling around Harry like the depicted serpent itself, ready to impart fragments of the endless wisdom it held from his Ancestor. It was as if the Ouroboros had come to life, its cyclical nature manifesting as a metaphysical force that connected the dots between questions and answers, mysteries and revelations.

And thus, the Knowledge Ritual began. Harry stood at the helm of a vast ocean of wisdom, ready to navigate its depths. Like the Ouroboros, his quest for knowledge was never-ending, but each answer he would find would bring him one step closer to the wisdom he so deeply sought. With each spoken letter, he felt a connection to the arcane secrets of the magical world, and he knew he was on the cusp of something monumental.

Images, concepts, and wisdom flowed from the ring, coursing through the magical connection and into Harry's mind following down to his chest. The secrets of Parseltongue, the understanding of ancient magical constructs, the knowledge of potions and herbs, the mastery of duelling arts, ancient tongues, and the insights into the human soul.

Harry can see the world through new eyes, feeling what he assumed Salazar felt, knowing what he knew. The visions are vivid and intense, a whirlwind of information and experience, a fusion of their essences. It's an overwhelming process, a communion of minds, a sharing of legacy.

The ritual continued, each second stretching into an eternity as the knowledge took root in Harry's consciousness, becoming a part of him. As everything can't be experienced in the short moment and the lifetime of skills imparted strain even the most enhanced of minds, the knowledge took a material form, to be used by Harry when the need arises, easing the way to use the accumulated knowledge, the transfer is smooth and complete.

In that sacred and intense moment, Harry understood that he is both a part of the cycle and apart from it—a seeker, a questioner, a learner.

As the Knowledge Ritual reached its apex, Harry felt a sudden, grounding pull at the base of his neck. Almost instinctively, he reached up to touch it, and his fingers met the cool surface of something new. His eyes widened as he looked down and saw a radiant medallion materialise, suspended on a finely wrought chain.

The medallion itself was a marvel, elegantly crafted from an ethereal material that defied easy description. At its centre was an intricate design resembling an Ouroboros, echoing the motif of his ritual circle. What made it truly extraordinary, however, were the sinuous, silver threads that seemed to float within the medallion, giving it the appearance of containing liquid wisdom. These threads shimmered and danced like moonlight on water, capturing the essence of something profoundly magical.

As he touched the medallion, Harry immediately felt a rush of knowledge flood through him. It was as if the silver threads were connecting with his mind, weaving new pathways of understanding and clarity. The feel of the medallion against his skin was like a comforting whisper, assuring him that the repository of wisdom it contained would be both a shield and a sword in the challenges to come.

It took him a moment to comprehend the gravity of what had just occurred. Those wisps of silver, ethereal and fluid, were the knowledge of Salazar Slytherin himself. For the first time, Harry felt as if he was touching history, drawing upon centuries of magical understanding that very few had ever accessed.

The medallion felt like more than just an object; it was a symbiotic extension of himself, an embodiment of his pursuit of knowledge and the tangible reward of his daring ritual. Each thread was like a whispered secret, a fragment of an arcane spell, a slice of forgotten history, all converging into this singular artefact that now hung around his neck.

As Harry stood there, the medallion subtly pulsating against his skin, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and profound responsibility. The Knowledge Medallion or just The Ouroborous as he named it was not just a repository but a reminder of the inexhaustible cycle of learning, a talisman imbued with the wisdom of one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived. It was both a gift and a challenge, a tool and a treasure, and Harry knew it would be indispensable in the days to come as he went through all the wisps and master it.

"Remember to use this knowledge wisely, my Heir," Harry heard a voice speak.

The room settled, the emerald flames of the Chamber calming, the glow of the ring fading. Harry stood still, his eyes closed, his body trembling slightly from the exertion. The connection between the ring and him disconnected. He knew whose voice he heard as the ritual ended. It's Salazar's, the same voice he heard in regret in those memories a year ago.

Harry opened his eyes, a new depth in his gaze, a sense of empowerment and understanding. He got all the knowledge from Salazar, a fast and easy process that didn't involve any of the sensations or pains he had experienced in his past rituals.

The medallion acted as a reminder of his effort and though it was not mentioned anywhere in the ritual book, Harry thought Salazar wanted to surprise him with the sudden gift and Harry definitely liked it. It had a unique feel to it that resonated with Harry and with a happy smile and strong conviction to gain the mastery of the knowledge, Harry left the Chamber, the medallion hidden by his robes. It's cool touch encouraging Harry.

24th June 1994

Great Hall

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Third-Year Final Examination Results

Academic Year: 1993-1994

1. Harry Potter — Overall Grade: Outstanding (O)

House: Ravenclaw

2. Padma Patil — Overall Grade: Outstanding (O-)

House: Ravenclaw

3. Daphne Greengrass — Overall Grade: Outstanding (O-)

House: Slytherin

4. Hermione Granger — Overall Grade: Outstanding (O-)

House: Gryffindor

5. Terry Boot — Overall Grade: Exceeds Expectations (E)

House: Ravenclaw

6. Susan Bones — Overall Grade: Exceeds Expectations (E)

House: Hufflepuff

7. Draco Malfoy — Overall Grade: Exceeds Expectations (E)

House: Slytherin

8. Neville Longbottom — Overall Grade: Exceeds Expectations (E-)

House: Gryffindor

9. Ernie Macmillan — Overall Grade: Exceeds Expectations (E-)

House: Hufflepuff

10. Lisa Turpin — Overall Grade: Exceeds Expectations (E-)

House: Ravenclaw

Note: The grades listed above represent the cumulative results of all subjects taken during the academic year. We extend our warmest congratulations to all students for their efforts and achievements this year.

Signed,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,

Headmaster,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

As the results were declared, the Great Hall was abuzz with conversation and taunts as it's the time of the Year End Feast and declaration of both the House Cup as the Quidditch Cup. Though the latter was already given to Ravenclaw.

The Great Hall buzzed with conversations as students glanced over the newly posted Final Examination Results. Whispers filled the air, punctuated by exclamations of joy or sighs of relief.

"Did you see this? Harry's at the top!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes scanning the parchment.

"And Padma, Daphne, and Hermione are right behind him," Neville added, looking both impressed and slightly envious.

"Outstanding, Harry? You've outdone yourself!" Hermione yelled across the tables, giving Harry a congratulatory smile though Harry saw the tinge of sadness in her eyes.

"Told you Ravenclaw was the right choice for him," Padma said with a proud smile, nudging Terry beside her.

The chatter gradually subsided as Professor Dumbledore stood, his beard glinting in the light of the enchanted ceiling, now showcasing a mesmerising night sky, twinkling stars and all.

"Another year has come to a close," he began, his words filling the hall and drawing everyone's attention. "And what an extraordinary year it has been, filled with challenges, achievements, and invaluable lessons."

He looked around, his eyes twinkling like mad stars. "Congratulations to all for navigating the rigorous terrain of academia, as well as the trials of friendship and bravery. As your tables can attest," he waved his hand, and the posted exam results vanished, replaced by empty plates, "excellence should always be celebrated."

Roars of approval erupted from the students as Dumbledore continued, "As we bid adieu to another academic year at Hogwarts, remember that life, like these tables, is both a feast and a challenge. Choose wisely, act kindly, and never forget—the choices we make reveal the true nature of our character."

Just as everyone was about to cry for their feast, he continued, a smile gracing his features. "Ah, one more order of business before we truly dive into our feast. As many of you know, the final Quidditch match of the year was unfortunately cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances."

A ripple of murmurs spread throughout the hall, disappointment in the faces of those who had been looking forward to the concluding match.

"However," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling as if he was relishing a private joke, "the Quidditch Cup must still find a home for the next academic year. And as previously announced, I am pleased to announce that the Quidditch Cup goes to... Ravenclaw House!"

A roar of approval erupted from the Ravenclaw table, their blue and bronze banners fluttering magically above them as they clapped and cheered.

"And now," Dumbledore's voice rang clear above the cacophony, "I would like to invite the Ravenclaw House Team Quidditch Captain to come forth and receive the Quidditch Cup. Harry Potter, if you please."

A hushed silence fell over the Great Hall, every eye turning toward Harry. Faces reflected a mixture of joy and pride from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff while in the case of some Gryffindors, a bit of friendly jealousy while the Slytherins completely ignored him. Harry rose from his seat, a modest smile on his face as he moved toward the Headmaster.

As he took the shimmering Quidditch Cup from Dumbledore, the hall burst into applause once more—this time, led surprisingly by the Gryffindor table, where Neville, Ron, Hermione, and even the normally stoic Fred and George were clapping enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry said softly, his eyes meeting the old wizard's for a moment before turning to address the crowd. "I want to dedicate this Cup to my team and supporters, the best anyone could ask for. And let's not forget, Quidditch is not just about winning; it's about teamwork, skill, and the love of the game."

Harry lifted the Quidditch Cup high above his head, the enchanted goblet catching the fading sunlight and seeming to glow with its own internal fire. Ravenclaw's cheers reached a new crescendo, but it was clear that the applause came from all corners of the Great Hall.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled more than ever as he looked at Harry. "Well said, Mr Potter. Well said indeed."

Harry returned to his seat, the weight of the cup and the weight of the moment both making him feel oddly grounded. He enjoyed the happiness and joy the moment brought.

It was a fitting end to an extraordinary year, a year that had challenged and changed Harry in so many ways. He gained many precious memories and lost a few precious ones as well, but overall, the year was one of change and acceptance.

Dumbledore continued, smiling broadly as the chatter in the Great Hall died down. "Now, before we lose ourselves completely in our well-deserved feast, let us turn our attention to another, equally prestigious, matter—the House Cup."

The anticipation in the room was palpable, every face turned toward the Headmaster, the ghosts floating above their respective House tables in eager silence.

"Allow me to recount the points," Dumbledore began, gesturing to the large hourglasses that displayed the House points. "In fourth place, we have Slytherin House, with 452 points."

The Slytherin table sat in stony silence, a few murmurs breaking out but quickly quieted by stern looks from their prefects.

"In third place, Gryffindor House, with 556 points."

The Gryffindor table erupted into polite applause. They knew they hadn't had their best year, but they were proud nonetheless.

"In second place, Hufflepuff House, with a remarkable 706 points."

Cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table; being so close to the top was a significant achievement for them.

"And finally," Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect, his eyes twinkling merrily, "with a dazzling total of 856 points, the House Cup this year goes to Ravenclaw!"

Pandemonium broke out at the Ravenclaw table. They have won both the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup, a rare double victory that would be remembered for years to come. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall seemed to shimmer in excitement, and magically, the ribbons decorating the hall changed to Ravenclaw's blue and bronze.

Dumbledore gestured for calm. "May I invite the Head Girl of Ravenclaw, Miss Penelope Clearwater, to come forth and receive the House Cup."

Penelope stood, a look of pure elation on her face as she moved gracefully towards Dumbledore. She accepted the House Cup with a respectful nod, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted the trophy high above her head.

Once again, the Great Hall erupted into applause, and this time it came from every table, every House, every corner. Even the Slytherins, however begrudgingly, joined in the applause while cursing Draco and their Head of House. For at that moment, House rivalries seemed to vanish, replaced by a shared sense of community and the thrill of another magical year drawing to a close.

Dumbledore's eyes swept over the Great Hall, taking in the faces of the students who filled it—faces flushed with excitement, eyes shining with the glow of achievement or the sheen of happy tears.

"Another year has gone!" he said softly. "And what a year it has been! I hope that you have all found it as enlightening, challenging, and enriching as I have. I look forward to seeing all of your bright faces next year. For now, let the feast continue!"

As Dumbledore sat down, the tables filled with the most delicious foods imaginable, yet the atmosphere in the room had changed subtly. The magic of the evening was no longer just the enchantment of spells or the brilliance of victories; it was the deeper, more profound magic of a community brought together, if just for a moment, by the shared experience of another year at Hogwarts.

As the feast drew to a close, the atmosphere in the Great Hall shifted from a jubilant celebration to a bittersweet blend of excitement and nostalgia. Platters were gradually emptied, goblets set aside, and the last crumbs of treacle tart and chocolate éclairs savoured. The enchanted ceiling, as if sensing the mood, displayed a beautiful twilight sky, stars beginning to twinkle in the growing darkness.

Dumbledore stood once more, his eyes twinkling as brightly as the enchanted ceiling above. "I do hope you've all enjoyed the feast. Remember to pack your belongings and prepare for your journey home tomorrow. The carriages and the Hogwarts Express await to carry you back to your families."

At the mention of families and the summer ahead, the hall erupted into a cacophony of chatter. Plans for vacation trips, Quidditch matches, and family gatherings filled the air. The promise of a long, magical summer lay ahead, and for a moment, everyone seemed to forget the weight of their textbooks and the rigour of exams.

The students began to leave the Great Hall in groups, their voices echoing down the hallways. First-years spoke in awe about their first year at Hogwarts, while seventh-years walked arm-in-arm, aware that for them, this was their last walk through these ancient corridors as students. Prefects reminded younger students not to forget their belongings, while friends exchanged hugs and promises to write.

Harry watched the spectacle unfold from the Ravenclaw table, a smile touching his lips. For him, the summer held the promise of the Quidditch World Cup and the comforting thought of his upcoming Apprenticeships at Gringotts. He is excited to move into Potter Castle as well.

Eventually, the Great Hall emptied, its enchanted ceiling now a tapestry of night, adorned with stars and a crescent moon. House-elves came to clear the tables and tidy up, making ready for the next term, the next feast, and the next generation of young witches and wizards who would call Hogwarts home.

But for now, the castle settled into a peaceful silence, as if taking a long, deep breath before its inhabitants dispersed into the world beyond its walls. It was a silence filled with the echoes of laughter, the whispers of shared secrets, the unspoken farewells, and the eager anticipation of new beginnings. And in that silence, Hogwarts itself seemed to be dreaming of the students who would return and the new tales that would be written in the next chapter of its long and storied history.

25th June 1994

Hogwarts Express

As the Hogwarts Express chugged its way through the rolling Scottish countryside, the atmosphere inside is filled with a bittersweet blend of relief and nostalgia. Students exchanged Chocolate Frog cards, recounted tales of daring and mischief from the school year, and made promises to meet up during the summer.

In one particular carriage, Harry sat with his friends: Padma and Terry. Unlike most other compartments, the chatter here is a bit more subdued, and a bit more reflective. As Harry has become their slave-driving teacher.

"So, the third year is behind us. How do you two feel?" Harry asked, leaning back in his seat and staring out of the window at the landscape rushing by.

Padma exchanged a look with Terry before answering. "Wild. I didn't expect it to be this different when we first met on our way to Hogwarts. We've done many things and you taught us many things as well." She said with a happy nod.

"Yeah," Terry chimed in, "I couldn't have said it better. Though I would say your teaching is the highlight of the year." Terry said with a cold shudder.

Harry shrugged modestly. "I just shared what I knew. You 2 don't have to be so dramatic about my teaching, OK? We're all safer if we know how to protect ourselves, right?"

Padma smiled, "You make it sound so simple, but you took the time to teach us."

Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly. "Well, we're in this together, aren't we? Besides, I can always call upon your debt for a favour." Harry said it with a mad cackle.

"Stop you," Padma elbowed him and Harry pushed Terry into the way, dodging it

"Owww," Terry let out a pained groan.

"I know you don't like my tardiness for your exercise sessions, but why should you be determined to do bodily harm to me?" Terry said with a pained look at Harry which made Padma giggle.

"As if you are any better! What do you 2 think of me?" Terry asked seriously. Harry and Padma looked at each other. They got a matching grin and turned to Terry.

"Meat shield!" They proclaimed in unison to the utter dismay of the brunette. He sulked in the compartment with a dark cloud on his head. As the moments passed, the carriage went to relative silence.

Padma looked at Harry carefully before speaking, her eyes searching for a hint of what she suspected. "Harry, you don't have to tell us anything you don't want to, but I can't help but wonder what happened to Cho."

Harry maintained a poker face, giving nothing away. "Why do you ask so suddenly?"

"Because I've been piecing things together," Padma said, leaning forward slightly. "It didn't escape my attention that you disappeared on that night and was nowhere for the day before as well. And the way the Professors were talking about the whole thing, something wasn't adding up."

Terry looked from Padma to Harry, sensing the change in the atmosphere of their compartment.

"And then," Padma continued, "there was Cho. I'm friends with some of her friends, you know. And they said she'd been acting a bit strange after that whole incident. And she was not with them during the night as well."

Harry's eyes flicked momentarily, but his face remained as impassive as ever.

"I'm not saying she knows anything about what happened. Hell, I can imagine her not remembering anything that happened on the night," Padma hastened to add. "But I am saying that something happened that night that we don't fully understand. And I think you might have a good idea of what it was."

Harry paused, weighing his options. Padma and Terry had trusted him with their minds, allowing him to teach them Occlumency. But Harry is sure sharing what transpired on the night is not easy as it took some time for him to finally move on from it. So thinking about their well-being, he decided not to.

Finally, he spoke, his voice steady. "You're both right to have questions. But for now, let's just say that the truth is a complex thing. Sometimes, the stories we're told aren't as black-and-white as they seem."

Padma nodded, her expression indicating she understood the weight of what Harry was alluding to, even if she didn't know the specifics. Terry, looked in understanding accepting Harry's reply.

"Fair enough," Padma said, reclining back in her seat. "But if you ever decide you want to talk about it, you know where to find us."

Harry smiled softly at both of them, appreciative of their trust and understanding. "I'll keep that in mind."

As the train continued its journey toward London, the subject changed to lighter topics. But a mutual understanding hung in the air, unspoken yet powerfully present, binding the three friends in the mysteries and complexities that their world, magical as it was, couldn't escape.

As the Hogwarts Express rolled into King's Cross Station, a sense of nostalgia mixed with anticipation filled the air. Students were busy gathering their trunks and saying their farewells, promises to write and meet up over the summer flying back and forth.

Harry, standing by the door, glanced out the window and took a deep breath. The third year had been a whirlwind of revelations and challenges, but he felt more prepared for what lay ahead. The train finally came to a complete halt, and the doors magically opened, allowing students to pour out onto the platform.

Harry shrunk his belongings and they are happily stowed away in his pocket. Navigating through the bustling station toward Platform 9's magical barrier. He exited the station, and a black cab pulled up almost immediately. Knowing that he can't apparate, he opted to take a Taxi to the Tonks residence.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"25 Magnolia Road, please," Harry instructed, taking a seat in the back.

The taxi pulled away from King's Cross, merging into the London traffic. Harry stared out the window, his mind awash with memories of the past school year and the challenge that lay ahead—Sirius' trial. The pinpoint of his attention. He needs to go to Gringotts coming Monday to start his apprenticeships so he has the weekend to discuss about the case.

Eventually, the taxi turned into a quiet residential street and came to a stop.

"That'll be £23.50, mate," the driver announced.

Harry paid the fare and waved the driver goodbye. Before him stood a beautiful villa, with an array of magical and non-magical plants in the front yard. As he opened the door and stepped in, he is greeted by Andomeda.

"Harry, take a bath, we can discuss things over lunch." She said with a motherly smile and Harry nodded with a smile of his own. He left to do as asked, happy that 3rd year is finally over after many mindblowing and head-twisting events.

He is Harry James Potter, the young Lord of House Potter and House Slytherin, a friend of the Goblin Nation. He will stand unyielding in facing any adversity, refusing to run from any challenge that dares cross his path.

And Cut.

That's it for this Chapter, folks. Hope you all liked it. Tell me, what you think of the chapter and story in general.

Any suggestions are welcomed.

See y'all in the next chapter.

Black Infinity 1289,

Ja Ne.