The morning sun barely peeked through the enchanted ceiling of the Slytherin dormitory as Elias awoke. The room was bathed in a dim greenish hue from the waters of the Black Lake, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls. Unlike his dormmates, who still dozed in their four-poster beds, Elias had already developed a disciplined habit—waking early, preparing for the day ahead, and reinforcing his Occlumency.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he closed his eyes, strengthening the mental walls around his mind. Though no one had yet attempted to invade his thoughts, he knew it was only a matter of time. Snape had already tested him with Legilimency the previous night.
He won't be the last.
With his mind secured, Elias dressed and left for the Great Hall.
Observing the Players
Breakfast was a lively affair. The enchanted ceiling reflected a clear autumn sky, and the long tables were packed with students eager for their first real day of lessons. Elias took his seat at the Slytherin table, keeping his usual composed expression as he observed the hall.
Harry Potter sat at the Gryffindor table, looking unsure but curious.
Ron Weasley was already stuffing his face, oblivious to his surroundings.
Hermione Granger was frantically reading, eager to prepare for the day.
Draco Malfoy sat nearby, boasting about his family's influence.
Daphne Greengrass, one of the few truly composed students, remained silent, merely listening.
Elias ignored their chatter and focused on what mattered—knowledge and power.
First Class: Transfiguration
Professor McGonagall was strict and precise. The classroom was filled with anticipation as she stood before them.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. I expect discipline, intelligence, and hard work."
She demonstrated a flawless transformation—turning a desk into a sleek black cat and back again.
"Anyone who performs well in my class will be rewarded with House Points."
Their first task: turn a matchstick into a needle.
The room filled with murmurs as students struggled to even produce a shimmer of transformation. Hermione Granger managed partial success—her matchstick turned silvery, but the shape remained unchanged.
Elias, however, focused. His control over his magic was sharp. He visualized the change, the shifting of material and shape.
With a calm but firm flick of his wand, his matchstick morphed into a perfect silver needle.
McGonagall passed by, her sharp gaze lingering on his work.
"Excellent transfiguration, Mr. Blackthorn. Five points to Slytherin."
A few students glanced at him. Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes slightly, while Hermione Granger threw a curious look in his direction.
Elias ignored them.
Charms: Professor Flitwick's Praise
Their second class was Charms with Professor Flitwick, who greeted them with enthusiasm.
"Charms are not just about waving your wand and saying an incantation. True mastery comes from intent, control, and an understanding of magical flow."
Their first lesson was the Levitation Charm—Wingardium Leviosa.
Predictably, Granger succeeded first. Her feather floated gracefully in the air, earning her an excited clap from Flitwick.
Elias followed next, his magical control smooth and deliberate. His feather hovered effortlessly.
"Very precise control, Mr. Blackthorn! Five points to Slytherin!"
Draco Malfoy, sitting nearby, scowled. Elias could already sense the beginnings of rivalry.
The last class before lunch was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell.
The man was as nervous and stuttering as Elias remembered. He wore an odd purple turban and barely made eye contact with the students.
"D-dark creatures… v-very d-dangerous… must a-always be prepared!"
Elias, however, focused on something beneath the surface.
He could sense it.
Something about Quirrell felt… wrong. His magic had a taint, an unnatural presence.
If Voldemort truly is here, I need to be ready.
Despite this realization, Elias didn't react. He kept his expression neutral, showing no signs of suspicion.
Dinner in the Great Hall was a quieter affair. Many students were exhausted from their first day, but Elias was as composed as ever.
What caught his attention wasn't Dumbledore speaking—since that had already happened the previous night—but Snape's gaze.
The Potions Master was watching him.
His dark, piercing eyes seemed to probe Elias from across the staff table. A Legilimens. A test.
Elias didn't falter. His Occlumency shields held firm.
Snape's gaze lingered for a moment longer before shifting away.
You won't see anything, Professor.
Another silent battle won.
The second day at Hogwarts dawned cold and misty. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the gray clouds outside, and a light drizzle pattered against the castle's high windows. As Elias Blackthorn walked to breakfast, his mind remained focused on two things—strengthening his magic and staying under the radar.
So far, he had made an impression, but nothing too grand. He had earned House Points in Transfiguration and Charms, successfully avoided Snape's mental probe, and not drawn too much suspicion despite his exceptional magical control. The key to long-term power was patience.
As he entered the Great Hall, the Slytherin table was already buzzing with chatter. Draco Malfoy sat near the center, talking loudly about his father's latest contributions to the Ministry. Pansy Parkinson hung onto his every word, while Theodore Nott listened quietly, analyzing. Daphne Greengrass, ever the composed noble, sipped her tea, watching the conversation unfold.
Elias took his usual seat, pouring himself a cup of dark coffee. He had no intention of getting involved in these pointless status battles among first-years. He had already seen through Malfoy's arrogance—Draco was privileged but naive. Power was more than just a family name; it was about capability.
As he took a sip, Malfoy turned to him.
"Blackthorn, I heard you performed well in Charms. Didn't expect that."
Elias met his gaze. A challenge, then.
"Competence should always be expected, Malfoy."
Draco smirked, but before he could reply, a flurry of red entered the hall—the Weasley twins and Ron.
Ron Weasley walked past the Slytherin table, and as expected, his eyes landed on Draco first.
"What's the matter, Malfoy? Need your little gang to protect you?" Ron jeered.
Malfoy sneered. "At least I don't wear hand-me-down robes and live off charity."
Ron's face turned red. Before he could retort, his eyes flickered to Elias, who had been watching with mild amusement.
"And who's this? Another slimy snake pretending to be important?"
Elias's gaze darkened slightly. He disliked the Weasleys—not because they were poor, but because they were too righteous. Too blinded by their own self-proclaimed morality.
He set his cup down and spoke, his voice calm but sharp.
"Weasley, it's truly fascinating how loudly one complains about others while bringing nothing to the table themselves."
Ron blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you seem awfully obsessed with status for someone who claims it doesn't matter."
Snickers echoed from the Slytherin table. Ron clenched his fists, looking ready to fight. If he was foolish enough to attack first, Elias would put him in his place.
Before anything could escalate, Percy Weasley appeared.
"Ron! Don't cause trouble. Come on, let's go."
Ron glared at Elias but stomped away, muttering under his breath.
Malfoy chuckled. "You really shut him down, Blackthorn. Nice work."
Elias merely returned to his coffee. Not worth my time.
The dungeons were colder than the rest of the castle. As the first-years entered the Potions classroom, a heavy silence fell over them. Professor Severus Snape stood at the front, his black robes flowing as he addressed the class in his infamous low drawl.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making…"
Elias listened attentively. Snape was a difficult man, but he respected talent. He had no intention of making an enemy out of him—yet. Though he is watching me carefully…
Snape's dark eyes flickered toward Elias for the briefest moment before continuing. As the lesson progressed, the students were paired up to brew a Boil-Curing Potion. Elias was paired with Daphne Greengrass.
Unlike some of their classmates—like Neville Longbottom, who was already fumbling with ingredients—Elias and Daphne worked with quiet precision. Elias ground the snake fangs while Daphne prepared the dried nettles.
When they completed their potion, Snape approached their cauldron. He studied the perfectly simmering liquid before giving a short nod.
"Acceptable work. Five points to Slytherin."
For Snape, that was high praise.
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, looked irritated that someone else had gotten Snape's approval.
As Elias left the Potions classroom, he felt a strange sensation—like someone watching him.
He turned his head slightly. At the end of the corridor, high above, stood Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster's piercing blue eyes were on him.
For a brief moment, Elias held his gaze, then respectfully looked away and continued walking. I need to be more careful. He's already watching.
Dumbledore, even if he didn't openly interfere, would not ignore a rising noble wizard with exceptional talent. Elias would have to remain careful, patient, and prepared.
That night, after the castle quieted, Elias returned to his private training.
✔ He practiced spell precision—wordless magic, intent-based casting.✔ He refined his Occlumency, making sure his past-life memories were locked deep.✔ He meditated, enhancing his magical reserves.
Unlike other first-years, his magic was already powerful—comparable to some fifth-years.
And yet, it's still not enough.
The world was full of dangers—Voldemort, Dumbledore, the unknown future.
To control his own fate, he had to become stronger.