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Chapter Text

It was official. He was going to strangle the Architect.

It was bad enough that he'd left that accursed Double Dungeon. Bad enough that he'd found himself blinking up at a Hospital ceiling again. Bad enough that he'd had to re-live those first few months of his re-awakening.

He had been incredibly confused when Woo Jin-Chul had walked in, associate behind him. When he had spoken those words he remembered so well. It had taken some careful questioning from him to figure it out, but then it had clicked.

He'd gone back. Whether it be through some trick by the Architect. Whether it be by sheer coincidence. His exit of the gate with the Black Heart beating in his chest had sent him tumbling into the past. To that day when his life had completely changed.

After dealing with the shock that had come with discovering that he again had only 10 mana - and how did that happen?

He was sure he still had all of his shadows, and he had to resist the urge to check his stat page then and there. But Jin-Ah's frantic mother-henning had been amusing. Once she was gone, he had slumped back onto the bed and taken the time to check himself over.

He could feel the Black Heart sitting still and heavy in his chest. It was a dead weight that left him feeling strange, as though he were dead but also not. As he looked down at himself, he realised something.

He looked like a child again.

A hand drifted up to prod at his face, and his cheek squished under his probing fingers. He still had that chubby baby fat that had lingered on his body into his early 20s.

He was sure that if he looked in a mirror, he would not find the face he was so used to seeing over the past few months.

He wasn't the wide-eyed 20-something wandering into Dungeons and rarely came back. But he looked that way now, and it was such a strange feeling that Jin-Woo had laughed.

A nurse had poked her head into his room when he started getting a bit loud, and he had waved away her concerned glance. He had gone through the ritual of checking his mail and his stats unthinkingly . He frozen and stared in shock when he read the numbers.

Name: Sung Jin-Woo                    Level: 1

Job: Shadow Monarch              Fatigue: 0

Title: Demon Slayer [More Available]

HP: 100

MP: 10

Strength: 10                              Health: 10

Agility: 10                         Intelligence: 10

Sense: 10

Available Stat Points: 10

He really had reset everything. But . . . It was hard to ignore Beru's questions rattling around in his head. Or the quiet confusion Igris was emitting. He glanced at the little figurine next to his stat page. Yep, that was him from six months ago.

He'd forgotten just how small he'd been. He looked like a freshman, nervously stepping into their first year of High School. With a sigh, he opened his Skill page, mildly pleased to see everything was still there.

Not that he'd be able to use much other than his Class-Specific skills, due to how little Mana he had. And wasn't that something to fix? He would pass out from Mana Exhaustion if even one of his soldiers regenerated at this rate.

He glanced at the Daily Quest that had popped up next to his Stat Page. He sighed, allowing his body to fall into the familiar rhythm of working out. He did his best to double the goal as he was used to doing, but hell, he'd forgotten just how weak he was at the start.

That was something he'd need to remedy quickly . He checked his inventory and groaned. Nothing except Mr Kim's sword, which he remembered had been in there when he woke up the first time. He missed his Demon King's Daggers.

Ah well, he could collect them all over again, he supposed. And prepare differently this time. He finished the exercises he could do in his room. Then, he wandered out to the courtyard outside and starting to run laps of the building. A concerned nurse flagged him down and asked him to please calm down and come back inside. He just smiled, shaking his head, and began his run again.

He'd gotten the key to the Rasaka dungeon as one of his rewards. Then, he'd chosen the Blessed Random Box from the Hidden Quest's rewards. He left that in his inventory to check out another time. He distributed the stat points evenly between his Intelligence, Strength and Agility.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. The hospital had kept him for as long as they could. Just to make sure he was in perfect health before discharging him.

He'd dealt with the Rasaka dungeon the day he was released , and the Golem from the Dungeon Break soon after. He'd left the scene to go home to Jin-Ah before anyone could notice him. He'd stopped by a public restroom on the way to clean himself up a bit before he got home, though.

Jin-Ah had been extremely surprised, to say the least. When she'd opened the door, Jin-Woo had silently enveloped her in a hug. She'd shrugged him off after a few seconds, complaining that he smelled like a Dungeon. He had just chuckled, ruffling her hair despite her half-hearted complaints. He was swiftly regaining his former strength, and the next few months had felt like a blur.

Meeting Jin-Ho had felt like coming home, in a way. After the first few raids together he was glad for the younger man's companionship. He didn't bring out any of his shadows this time for anything other than resource gathering.

His stronger shadows were content to stay tucked away, letting him grow stronger on his own. He was mindful to let Jin-Ho help out with collecting things. Just so the young man didn't feel left out the way he had the first time around. No other reason. Nope. None at all. It wasn't at all to help Jin-Ho bulk up.

It was nice, for a while, to relax back into the familiarity of it all. But all that changed when he decided to take Han Song-I with him into the White Tiger Guild's raid.

He knew what to expect now, and had handed Song-I some heavy winter gear before going in. He had made sure she stayed behind him the entire time. The Hyakki never got the chance to shoot at her.

He cleared the dungeon in record time and even managed to take Barruka's Shadow. But something changed as he exited the Dungeon. The world had rippled and pulsed around him as it always did when he exited a Dungeon, but this time it felt like more .

The movements were more intense. The sensation was more akin to falling than walking through water. And then it had stopped, and he had found himself someplace other. It was dark, and there were trees surrounding him on all sides.

The place would've felt ominous to anyone else, but to Jin-Woo it felt like home in a way nothing else ever had. It was dark and cool and smelled of night and pines. He took a deep breath, forgetting, for a moment, his worries, and smiled at the sharp tang of Mana in the air.

The whole place was soaked in Mana. The roots of the trees and the plants sucking it up as greedily as they would nutrients and water.

A loud ping broke him out of his thoughts. He turned and read through the Quest Alert that had appeared before him.

[A Quest has arrived!]

Quest received!

A Complete Education Difficulty: N/A

Type of Quest: Normal No. Of Attempts: 1

Complete your education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to learn how to return home !

WARNING!: Failure to complete this Quest will result in the Player being trapped in this world!

Goals:

-Pass 1st Year          [Incomplete]

-Pass 2nd Year         [Incomplete]

-Pass 3rd Year          [Incomplete]

-Pass 4th Year          [Incomplete]

-Pass 5th Year          [Incomplete]

-Pass 6th Year          [Incomplete]

-Pass 7th Year          [Incomplete]

Pass Conditions:
Complete all Goals
Time Limit: 8 Years

Fail Conditions:
Get Expelled
Drop Out
Fail To Pass Within 8 Years

Rewards: 100,000 Gold A Way Home ???

[Accept]                                                               [Decline]

!Alert! This Quest cannot be declined !

Then, the situation had come rushing back. The otherness of everything around him striking him like a slap to the face. Darkness curled about his feet as he spread out his senses, wary of the world.

There were monsters in this forest. He could feel some watching him. They were large, larger than men, and armed with bows. He barely had to call upon his soldiers anymore, so attuned were they to his thoughts and moods.

As he pulled Barruka's Tanto from his inventory, Igris and Beru rose from his shadow. They flanked him, prepared to fight if needed. He stared into the darkness of the trees as one of the monsters advanced.

He wasn't entirely surprised when a Centaur walked out of the shadows, its bow trained solidly on him. He was surprised when it spoke.

"Who are you?" It asked in English, with an accent he couldn't quite place. Something Scottish, he thought, or maybe Welsh. Beru didn't like the weapon the Centaur had drawn on him.

The ant was shifting agitatedly , mandibles clicking in a staccato rhythm. Igris had a gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of his blade, but he didn't remove it from its scabbard yet. Jin-Woo hummed, considering the question, before scanning the Centaur.

It was large, and from the sound of its voice and the shape of its face, female. Her coat was a dark brown, the colour of freshly-tilled earth, and her tail was deep ebony, as was her long hair.

Her skin was the same dark brown as her coat. She had a white blaze on her forehead that drifted down into a large blotch on her nose and chin. Her bow looked like it was made of a pale, shiny wood that he thought might be rowan, and she had a quiver of arrows on her back.

The fletching on the arrow knocked to her bow was dark, and looked like crow feathers. Her ears were rounded , with the barest beginnings of a point at the tip. Her eyes were a dark colour he couldn't quite make out in the faint light, even with his boosted sense stat.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he replied. His English had been passable before his reawakening. It had rapidly improved since. He'd noticed , as he got stronger, He'd been able to understand snippets of conversations in languages he'd never learned .

It was surreal, but he'd chalked it up to more of the System's bullshit and pushed it into the corner of his mind labelled 'Shit I Can't Explain' . It was a corner that had filled quickly after gaining access to the System. His sudden trip into the past was included there.

The Centaur snorted impatiently , pawing at the ground, and her eyes narrowed.

"That is none of your concern, trespasser. How did you get inside our wards?" Her hand had tightened slightly on the bow, and she hadn't yet put the weapon away. He couldn't blame her, but he wasn't going to put his weapon away either.

He did, however , draw Igris and Beru back into his shadow. He ignored the latter's chattering protests. They weren't needed yet. It was a display of intimidation that was more likely to lead to violence than the opposite.

"I do not know how I came to be in your forest. I was leaving a Gate, and found myself here." He answered. The Centaur's eyes widened at the mention of a Gate. The other figures in the trees shifted on their hooves, stamping the ground in agitation.

"A Gate? Those do not exist here, and the stars say they will not for another twenty years." The Centaur eyed his weapon with suspicion, but her bow wavered. He sighed, seeing no other way out, and banished Barruka's Tanto to his Inventory.

The Centaur opposite him lowered her bow but did not remove the arrow. The Centaurs in the shadows around him had yet to move. "But you still have not answered my question. Who are you?"

Jin-Woo sighed. There was no avoiding it, he supposed.

"My name is Sung Jin-Woo." He wasn't going to divulge where he was from, although he wasn't sure if it would mean anything to these monsters. He wasn't even sure if he was still on Earth.

"Where am I?"

The Centaur shifted, glancing into the shadows to her left, and a few seconds later turned back to him.

"You are in the Forbidden Forest. On the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland."

Scotland. So he was still on Earth, then. Or a version of Earth. Though perhaps he'd just been thrown back in time again.

The Centaur had mentioned that Gates were not supposed to appear for another twenty years . Perhaps that was the case. He frowned, thinking. The Quest had said he was in another world . . . He was interrupted by an owl fluttering down to land on the ground before him.

He stared at the tawny creature, which hooted loudly at him and bounced forwards. It was holding out one leg and glaring at him, clutching something in its talons.

"It wants you to take the letter," the Centaur said, looking faintly amused at how clueless he was. The owl chittered, clacking its beak in agreement, and flapped the leg holding the letter at him.

He sighed, bending down and picking it up. The owl hooted at him and fluttered over to sit on the Centaur's rump. The centaur pulled a strip of dried meat from a pouch on her belt and offered it to the owl, who snapped it up gratefully .

Jin-Woo looked over the letter, noting the heaviness of the paper, its age, and the large wax seal on the back. He turned it over. He was grateful that his ability to translate written language was boosted . Bright green cursive stared up at him from the heavy yellowish paper, and he struggled for a second to read it.

Mr. Sung Jin-Woo

The Largest Clearing

The Forbidden Forest

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

He was instantly wary of the letter. How did it know his name? How did it know where he was? How did the owl know? He opened the letter, taking out the first of two sheets and what looked to be a train ticket. It seemed to be an incredibly old-fashioned one.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Sung,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely ,

Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

Jin-Woo blinked, putting the first page in his Inventory to go over at a later date, and pulled out the second page. He stashed the envelope and ticket in his Inventory as well.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Uniform

First-Year Students will require :

• Three sets of plain work robes (black)

• One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

• One pair of protective gloves (Dragon Hide or Similar)

• One winter coat (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all students' clothes should carry nametags.

Course Books

All students should have a copy of the following:

The Standard Book Of Spells (Grade 1)
By Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic
By Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory
By Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide To Transfiguration
By Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs And Fungi
By Phyllida Spore

Magical Draughts And Potions
By Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them
By Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide To Self-Protection
By Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (Pewter, Standard Size 2)

1 set Glass or Crystal Phials

1 Telescope

1 set Brass Scales

1 Trunk

1 Quill Set (Plus Sharpening Kit)

1 Inkwell (plus Ink refills)

1 Large bundle Parchment Scrolls

Students may also bring, if they desire, an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad

Parents are reminded that First Years ARE NOT allowed their own Broomsticks

Yours Sincerely ,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Jin-Woo frowned at the letter, then looked up at the Centaur.

"What's Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts is a school. It teaches Witches and Wizards, people with magic like yourself, to use their gifts. It appears you have a place, despite just arriving here." The Centaur said, waving a hand at the letter in his hands. He sighed, putting the paper in his Inventory and pulling out the first page again.

"It says here I need to reply by owl? How do I do that?"

"You write your acceptance or denial on a piece of parchment and give it to the Owl." She gestured to the owl on her rump, which was now making a mess of her tail. She didn't seem to mind all that much.

Thinking back to the Quest from earlier, which was still floating open next to him, he sighed.

He pulled a spare piece of paper and a pen from his Inventory. He bent over, using his knee as a solid surface to scrawl out a reply. His English was surprisingly readable. He scrawled 'Hogwarts' on the top and handed it to the owl.

It took the letter in its beak and let out a muffled hoot before fluttering away. He watched it go. His eyes glowed slightly as he infused his vision with Mana to follow it.

He turned back to the Centaur and let the Mana fade, his eyes returning to their usual dark grey.

"How do I get the things on the list?"

"I suppose you would need to go to Gringotts and ask them to make you a vault. Assuming you have any way to make money, that is."

"Would they take these and convert them?" He took a moment to convert one of his coins from digital to physical currency and held it out to the Centaur. She took it and weighed it in her hand, turning it this way and that and holding it up to the moonlight.

"Yes, I daresay they would," the Centaur said, handing the coin back. "But I suggest you keep those quiet."

Jin-Woo nodded, knowing what she meant. Humans were greedy creatures at the best of times.

"How do I get to Gringotts?" He asked, frowning. He knew nothing about this world. He would have to remedy that, and swiftly .

"Head to Diagon Alley in London. Someone will be able to guide you from there if you ask Tom the Barkeep."

Jin-Woo nodded, thanking her, and then realised something. He didn't even know the Centaur's name. It seemed only fair, after she had helped him.

"Before I go, may I know your name?"

The Centaur blinked at him, surprised, then laughed.

"Astoria. Call me Astoria."

He bowed his head and smiled, then turned and walked away. He could sense a large clear area from what was presumably the edge of the forest. He pretended not to notice the Centaurs moving out of his way as he passed. They obviously wanted to keep themselves hidden. He would allow them their illusions . . . for now.

He made his way out of the forest quickly and began running, swiftly leaving the forest behind. He rounded a hill and slowed as a large stone castle came into view. Some of its windows were glowing brightly , but a majority stayed dark and unlit.

He supposed that was because it was the middle of the night. Even the moon was hiding now, affording him perfect cover as he made his way out. He passed through a large set of gates and found himself on a railway platform. With a sigh, he made up his mind.

He sent out his fastest shadows with orders to scout the area. Another group were to scout London for any residence bearing the name 'The Leaky Cauldron'. Within minutes, he had a report. London was some several hundred kilometres away, apparently . The Leaky Cauldron did exist.

It looked like a dingy old tavern, complete with an old wooden sign hanging above the door. He sighed, getting to his feet. Might as well scope the place out.

Recalling all of his other shadows, he activated Shadow Swap. He appeared outside the establishment, crouching on the opposite roof. He studied the place. The sun was just beginning to rise when he finally decided to enter the tavern.

He dropped down from the roof and landed lightly on the empty cobblestone street. His hands were tucked in his pockets. He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of a mostly-empty room with only a few people sitting at tables scattered around . They were probably the early risers who didn't want to be bothered by everyone else.

He walked up to the bar, nodding to the man behind it, who was polishing glasses. What was it with barkeeps and idly polishing the same glass? Maybe they just needed something to fidget with.

"Are you Tom?" The man nodded, still polishing his glass.

"How can I help ya, lad?" The man's voice was nice, he decided. Soft and bassy, with a low rumble that curled through his words and gave it an odd accent.

"I was told to find you to get into Diagon." He didn't think it would be wise to mention who, exactly, had told him to see the Barkeep. Tom only nodded, setting his glass down, and waved him over to the door at the end of the bar.

"Won't be many shops open yet, but Gringotts always is, if that's what yer after." He stopped in front of a blank stretch of brick wall above a few bins, and pulled out a long, thin stick. That was a wand, Jin-Woo supposed.

He tapped the bricks in an upside-down 'L' shape, muttering 'Three up, two across,' under his breath. Jin-Woo felt a surge of Mana and tensed, prepared for a trap. But the wall merely rippled, a small hole appearing in the bricks.

They quickly shifted and turned in on themselves. The hole grew larger and larger until even Kaisel could've walked through it upright. A large alley that he was sure hadn't been there from the outside stretched away. It wound all the way up a tall hill to an enormous white marble building perched atop the crest.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Tom said with a wide grin. Jin-Woo thanked him and walked through the entrance. It quickly shifted back into a blank stretch of wall between two shops. He made straight for the building that looked most like a bank, the one made of marble that he'd noticed earlier.

In took five minutes for Jin-Woo to reach the doors to the building. He had seen several shops that appeared to sell the items he needed for his school supplies. Stepping up to the doors, he was surprised to see two burly Goblins in plate armour and armed with spears flanking the embossed structures . They bowed as he approached, and he bowed back as his manners dictated. The Goblins seemed surprised, but opened the doors nonetheless.

Inside, he saw another set of doors flanked by Goblins, and bowed when they did once again. There was an inscription on this set of doors, and he paused to read it.

Enter, Stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of Greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned , Beware,

Of finding more than treasure there.

The Goblins opened the doors, and he thanked them. Walking through into a large echoing chamber, he stared at the ceiling. He walked slowly , taking it all in, and then moved for the nearest Cleric's desk. There was a Goblin sitting behind it, and he took the time to fleetingly wonder if the entire building was run by them . But then the Goblin was looking up and speaking in its gravelly voice.

"State your business," the Goblin looked down its long, hooked nose at him. Ashborn, why was he so short. He had to crane his neck back to look the Goblin in the eyes. He glanced at the nameplate on the desk.

"Master Gorlak-Ssi, I was told to come here if I needed to arrange an account?" The Goblin raised a fluffy grey eyebrow at the honorific, and ducked under his desk. He emerged from a door Jin-Woo hadn't noticed before, holding a packet of papers and waving for him to follow.

They walked through several hallways lined with many doors. They stopped outside one labelled 'Head Goblin, Master Griphook'. Gorlak knocked on the door, and poked his head in when it opened. He said something quietly to whoever - Griphook, Jin-Woo assumed - was inside. Then, the door opened wider, and Gorlak waved him in. He handed him the packet of papers before walking out, closing to door behind him.

Griphook was tall, for a Goblin, and wore immaculate silver armour. It complimented all the weapons lining his walls. He gestured to a chair on the other side of his large mahogany desk, and Jin-Woo took the obvious invitation to sit. When he was settled , Griphook eyed him up and down before speaking.

"So you wish to create a vault?"

Jin-Woo nodded, looking down at the packet in his hands. Griphook followed his gaze.

"Yes, I suppose we should start there. That is a packet that contains the basic information given to all Muggleborns who enter this building . It also contains all of the necessary papers for setting up a vault. I suppose, if you're setting up a Vault, you have something to pay the appropriate costs with?"

He nodded, collecting one of the coins he had exchanged for physical currency in his Inventory .

He placed it on the desk between them, noting the way Griphook's eyes lit up.

"How much would one of these be exchanged for?"

"May I?" Griphook asked, gesturing to the coin. Jin-Woo nodded. The Goblin picked up the coin. He checked every facet against the light before pulling out several tools and testing the metal .

"It is unlike anything I have seen before. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say they exchange for one hundred Galleons each. The Vault Setup Fee is two thousand Galleons."

Jin-Woo glanced at the Shop window he currently had open, reading the balance.

453,267 G

He could take out maybe 3,000 Gold for the vault. Doing the calculations quickly , he realised that would equate to 300,000 Galleons. Not that he knew how much that was.

With that settled, the rest of the talks progressed smoothly . Jin-Woo read through his packet, and Griphook was surprisingly patient. By the end of the talk, almost three hours later, they were both satisfied and Jin-Woo had a new Bank Vault. He had a Keyto the vault. He had a stone tablet that acted like a credit card. He had a chequebook. And he had a Blood Heritage Test sitting in his Inventory.

They'd needed to use his blood for a few of the setup details. After some careful questioning, however , he had acquiesced. By now, all the other shops in Diagon were open, and he had compiled a list of things he would need.

He stepped out of the bank, feeling satisfied. He hoped the rest of the day would go that smoothly .

Chapter Text

The Goblins had advised he visit the shop called Ollivanders first, as that was likely to take the longest. He wandered down the main street of Diagon, which, unlike its name suggested, was not a singular lane of shops, but an entire sprawling magical community.

It was much later in the day than it had been when he arrived, the discussions in Gringotts having taken several hours. Soon enough, he came upon the store. It was old and narrow and shabby-looking. Old, peeling golden paint above the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

There was a single, sad-looking wand sitting on a dusty purple velvet cushion in the front window. He pushed the door open, the cool darkness of the shop seeming to welcome him as a bell chimed somewhere deep in the back of the shop.

It was dusty and quiet, and the inside of the shop was just as small as the outside made it look. Mana pushed at him from every angle, prodding and poking and probing, in a confusing, messy myriad of colour and light. He set up a tight shield around his core, looking around warily.

Each box on the many shelves seemed to hold its own little pool of mana, all of which were prodding and poking at his core, testing him. He could feel and see another, larger, source of Mana approaching him, and turned in its direction as an old, spindly man appeared from behind a shelf.

"Good morning," the man - who he assumed was Ollivander - said, nodding his head. Jin-Woo nodded back, still observing him. He was short, and rail-thin in a deceptive way, because Jin-Woo could see the silvery Mana radiating from him in waves, and feel just how intense it was.

The Mana from the boxes seemed to curl and twine around him like a mess of cats greeting their owner. He had thin, patchy silver hair that looked like cobwebs, and large, pale moon-like eyes shimmering in the gloom.

"Good morning," Jin-Woo replied. The man smiled softly at him, eyes drifting around his form as though he could see his Mana. Testing, he sent a tendril of his own dark, purple-streaked Mana flickering out sideways, towards one of the shelves, and Ollivander's eyes followed the glowing strand with hawk-like focus.

He pulled the tendril back in, tightening the walls around his core, and looked down at the old man. "I was told to come here for a wand?"

That seemed to shake the old man from whatever he was doing, as he looked sharply up at his face and nodded. He bustled off, returning with a tape-measure that flickered around him like a snake, measuring his handspan, forearm length, bicep length, shoulder width, and the circumference of his chest.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting a visit from anyone this early in the day." Ollivander waved his hand and the tape-measure stopped its work, zipping over to nestle in his pocket. "Willow wood, twelve inches, whippy, with a Dragon Heartstring core." He pulled out a box, brought it over to him, and opened the lid. Inside nestled a pale, silvery wand with darker swirls along the handle.

The soft, greenish Mana glowing from the wood seemed to clash with the colour of his own in a harsh dissonance. He gestured for Jin-Woo to pick it up, so he did. Instantly, he felt Mana jolting up his arm and had to resist the urge to throw the wand across the shop with all of his considerable strength. He gently put the wand back in the box and shook his head.

Ollivander nodded, putting the box on a nearby table, and bustled off to collect another. The next wand he tried - Blackthorn, ten inches, bendy and with a Pheonix Tailfeather core, with startlingly bright orange-red Mana - felt better in his hand, but the pulsing heat from the Mana made him feel dizzy. That one was swiftly returned to its box and put on the table next to the willow wand.

The pile steadily grew bigger as Ollivander grew more and more excited, seeming to enjoy the challenge of fitting a wand to Jin-Woo. The man talked to him as he worked, explaining the meaning of the different cores, woods, lengths and flexibilities, and how they shaped the personality of the wand and the type of wizard it would bond to. With that information, Jin-Woo started to suggest trying certain types of wood. Ollivander took it in stride, and slowly, they made progress.

They had tried almost half the wands in the shop, moving from the wands Ollivander himself had made to the ones his predecessors had made. They had found that Fir and Ebony's woods reacted best to him, and that none of Ollivander's three 'Supreme Cores' would allow him to hold them for long. Phoenix Tailfeathers seemed outright furious with his contact, their Mana feeling like it was trying to burn him from the inside out.

Unicorn Hair simply refused to work, shooting sparks when he held it and then stopping completely. Dragon Heartstring was the core that worked best with him from the three 'Supreme Cores', not that it was all that cooperative.

It would perform the basic spell that Ollivander had given him to try - Lumos - but would do so reluctantly, and the light from the spell would flicker and die after a few seconds.

Similarly, some woods would react violently to his touch. Willow would shiver and twitch in his hand, as though terrified of him, and he couldn't work magic with them. Ash was mildly cooperative, but the spell was weak, the light cast dim and wavering.

Acacia wands flatly refused to do anything, Alder would produce spells that - while stronger than any produced by the Ash wands he had tried - were severely lacking in power, Apple wood was much the same as Acacia, not producing any results save for a faint glow at the tip of the wand. 

Aspen would produce the spell normally, but the Mana - or Magic, as Ollivander had called it (he'd gotten a funny look from the man when he called it Mana) - felt very reluctant in his hand.

The magic in Beech wands felt almost disdainful, as though they found him lacking, although Blackthorn was extremely willing to perform his spells. It still felt wrong in his hand, though. Black and normal Walnut both outright refused to channel his magic, as did Cedar, Cherry, Chestnut and Cypress. 

Dogwood had a Magic that felt loud and rambunctious, and holding those wands left him with a dull, throbbing headache. Ollivander had one wand made of Elder, paired with Unicorn Hair, which had trembled violently in his hand, shot sparks, and promptly cracked down the middle.

Elm and English Oak had both fizzed violently when he touched them, and Hawthorn and Hazel weren't much different. Ollivander didn't seem too perturbed by the reaction, only separating out the wands made with those woods and putting them back on their shelves.

Holly, Hornbeam, Larch and Laurel all produced dull, flickering spells. Maple, Pear and Pine would twitch and quiver while producing spells, throwing light in brilliant arcs around the shop.

Those woods were quickly separated as well, lest one of the wands start a fire. Poplar, Red Oak, and Redwood were much calmer, but the Magic emanating from them was disgruntled and reluctant, as though they were unwilling to produce results.

Rowan, Silver Lime, Spruce and Sycamore weren't much better. Vine and Yew yielded interesting results, however, with Vine producing little curls of shadow instead of light, and Yew blacking out the entire shop when he tried to touch it.

In the end, they settled on going through only the Pine and Ebony wands, because they reacted well to his presence. Going through all the older wands had been a chore, and they had swiftly crossed cores off of the list.

Veela hair, Kneazle whisker and Dittany stalk had all felt dead in his hand, while Kelpie hair had splashed water everywhere when he picked up one of the wands. Those four had been quickly removed from the list, and the pile had grown considerably smaller. 

Koralle had made the wand twitch violently when he so much as put his hand near it, and the wand they tried had rattled in its box for a solid five minutes before they gave up on trying to test it. It clearly didn't want to be touched. 

Thunderbird Tail Feather had tingled in his hand, and when he tried to cast with the Ebony wand it was encased in, it had zapped his fingers violently until he stopped his attempts. Wampus cat hair and Horned Serpent Horn had produced a weak, wavering light when he made any attempts to cast, and White River Monster Spine and Rougarou hair had both produced a decently bright but lacking spell.

The last three cores, Snallygaster heartstring, Jackalope Antler and Curupira hair all felt dead in his hand, their Mana curling inwards and shivering until it was a little ball in the centre of the wand.

Ollivander had scratched his head at that and had looked deep in thought for a few minutes before suddenly sitting upright, bustling off into the back of the shop, and had come back with a very old box. He opened it, and the dark, purple-and-gold-flecked Mana in the box reached out for his own almost as soon as the lid was off.

He picked the wand up carefully, and it hummed in his hand, its cool, soft Mana curling around his own in a way that felt familiar and foreign all at once. It was a beautiful thing, made of intertwining dark Ebony wood and lighter Fir in a swirling pattern that ran from one end of the shaft to the other, all polished to a bright shine.

Ollivander stared at him as the shop went pitch dark around him, shadows curling from every surface. He cast Lumos , and the shadows vanished almost instantly, replaced by a near-blinding light. He ended the spell quickly, and smiled softly as the wand buzzed in his hand, feeling like a contented cat.

"How very curious," Ollivander muttered, watching Jin-Woo with those wide silver eyes. "My Great-Grandfather made that wand, and the tree it came from was quite odd, he had said. An Ebony tree, inosculated with a Fir. He'd used the tail hair of a Thestral, too, on a whim. How curious it would find its match with you."

Jin-Woo shifted under the man's scrutiny, but the man merely waved his own wand - Hornbeam and Dragon Heartstring, 12¾ inches and slightly bendy - and banished the boxes back to their places. He followed the man to the counter, and paid the required seven Galleons.

He'd also purchased, at Ollivander's recommendation, a Wandcare kit and a dragonhide wrist holster, spelled to eject the wand into the owner's hand when they flicked their wrist. He left the shop feeling satisfied with his purchase, his new wand tucked into its holster and the holster strapped around his wrist under his shirtsleeve.

Chapter Text

By now, the alley was bustling with other shoppers. Jin-Woo made his way to the shop that was likely to take the longest after Ollivander's, humming a song that had gotten stuck in his head. The establishment was brightly-lit.

It was a large store with Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions written in gold cursive across the front, and was almost at the other end of Diagon's main street, back near Gringotts. A bell tinkled above his head as he pushed the door open, and he sighed. A squat, smiling woman dressed in mauve robes bustled over to him, eyes scanning.

"Hogwarts, dear?" She asked as Jin-Woo's eyes roamed the displays, taking everything in. He nodded absently, noticing the soft purple-gold colour of the woman's Mana. "Got the lot here - there are another two young men being fitted up just now, in fact."

She beckoned for him to follow, and he trailed after her as she led the way deeper into the shop. She led him into a large room where two children were standing on footstools while two young women pinned up their long black robes.

The woman who had led him in - who he believed to be Madam Malkin, if only by the way the other two women deferred to her when she walked in - flicked her wand, summoning another stool from . . . somewhere, and indicated he should step onto it. There was a mirror against the wall opposite them, and he was startled when he saw his reflection for the first time since he had entered the Red Gate all those days ago.

He had known, deep in the back of his mind, that he wasn't the same as when he'd entered that Gate. But it hadn't quite registered until he stood in front of a mirror, his eleven-year-old face staring back at him. He hadn't quite hit puberty yet by that age - and fuck, was he going to have to deal with that again? - but the first signs of it had begun to show. Not to mention the awful haircut Jin-Ah had given him in his sleep as a prank.

His mother had been quite unimpressed with her when she found out, and he still maintained the stance that Jin-Ah had gotten off lightly. His mother had given her the verbal equivalent of a slap on the wrist, and while she'd never done it again, she had certainly threatened to do so many times. Especially once he began coming home injured.Or just not coming home at all.

He was broken from his thoughts as a third woman bustled out from somewhere, beginning to pin up the black robes that Madam Malkin had conjured over his clothing. The seamstress watched the women work for a few more seconds before smiling widely at the boys and leaving the room.

The second she was gone, a blond boy on the other side of the room turned to him. He had sharp-looking, silver-blue Mana, Jin-Woo noticed. Probably quite good with Ice magic. He thought he'd seen a Hawthorn wand with similar Mana in Ollivanders'.

"Hullo," he said. His voice was snobbish. Jin-Woo had met his type before. "Hogwarts too?"

Jin-Woo nodded.

"I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy," the boy - Draco - said, as though expecting him to know who he was. Jin-Woo raised an eyebrow, lifting an arm when the seamstress pinning his robes moved it out of her way. Draco shuffled on his stool for a few seconds, before asking, "what house do you suppose you'll be in? I'll be in Slytherin, of course."

Jin-Woo huffed a laugh, shaking his head. So sure, already. He missed that kind of innocence. Damn, now he sounded old.

"Probably Slytherin, myself. But no one knows until they try the Hat, do they?" Personally, Jin-Woo didn't like the thought of anything being inside his mind, but he might allow it, just this once, if it was for the purpose of a Quest. "How about you?"

The black-haired boy between them jumped, as though he hadn't been expecting to be talked to. His Mana was a soft pine green with flecks of black and gold dancing through it like snowflakes in the wind. Jin-Woo hadn't seen a Wand that matched it, but there was a small patch of darker, red-and-black Mana around his forehead that matched a Holly wand that Ollivander had considered for all of two seconds before returning it to its shelf.

"Um . . . I'm not sure. I don't even know any of the Houses," the boy's voice was soft and slightly scratchy, as though he didn't use it much. His eyes, or what Jin-Woo could see of them, were a bright, vibrant green. "Could you tell me?"

He flinched as he asked his question, as though the response to such a thing in the past had been violent. Jin-Woo hated it. No one, especially one so small, so young , should have to experience things like that. And goddamnit, he needed to stop thinking like that, he was starting to sound old .

"Oh, I see. You're one of them," Draco sneered, and Jin-Woo was taken aback. They'd just met, hadn't they?

"One of what?" The ebony-haired boy asked, shaking.

"A Muggleborn. A Wizard born to Muggles," Draco sneered. Jin-Woo was swiftly developing a strong dislike of the prat.

"Oh," the black-haired boy said softly. "No, that doesn't fit me. My parents were Wizards."

Jin-Woo winced at the wording. Were . As in no longer Wizards. Maybe no longer on this earth.

"Well, then where are they now?" Draco practically demanded an answer, his tone so snobbish it made Jin-Woo want to punch his face in. His hand twitched and curled into a fist.

"They're dead," the black-haired boy said softly, his voice so small that Jin-Woo was almost sure that Draco hadn't heard it. But by the way the blond boy's face flattened out into a featureless mask, he evidently had.

"Oh," Draco said, voice as emotionless as his face. "Sorry I asked."

He didn't sound sorry at all.

Jin-Woo sighed, bringing the conversation back to the previous topic.

"From what I understand, there are four Hogwarts Houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw. Each House is known for different traits, and for picking witches and wizards with abilities and alignments that match their Houses' values. Gryffindors are usually brave or chivalrous.

“Hufflepuffs are known for being loyal, hard-working and caring. Slytherins are known for their cunning, ambition, and often ruthlessness. Ravenclaws are known for their thirst for knowledge of any kind, as well as their intelligence and diligence. According to the Goblins, you get sorted by putting a hat on your head, and it tells the school which house suits you best," he explained, remembering what he'd read in the packet the Goblins gave him. "I have a copy of an information packet if you want it?"

Draco scoffed and turned away from them, muttering something about dumb Half-Bloods and even dumber Muggleborns. Jin-Woo had to take a deep breath in through his nose to stop his aura from flaring and suffocating everyone in the room. Mere seconds later, the woman pinning up Draco's robes finished, flicking her wand, and the robes resized themselves to the proportions that they had been pinned to.

Draco nodded to the woman and stepped down from his stool, walking from the room with his nose high in the air. Jin-Woo let out a near-silent breath of air as he left, glad to see his back. The boy was insufferable, really. And so biased, too.

He turned back to the black-haired boy, who was looking at him with hope.

"You'd really let me have the information packet?" His question was tentative, quiet, and shaky. 

Jin-Woo nodded, pulling the packet from his Inventory and separating out the information on the Wizarding world from his copy of the Bank Vault contract. He handed the packet to the boy with a smile. He took it hesitantly, glancing from the paper to his face as though he were going to lunge at him or some other preposterous notion.

"It's alright. Besides, I've already memorised the information in the packet, so what's the use in keeping it if it can help someone else?" Jin-Woo shrugged, not really one to waste something when it could be of use to someone else. The wide gin he was rewarded with was the best thing he'd seen all day. He couldn't help but grin back. "I'm Sung Jin-Woo."

The boy looked startled, then sheepish.

"Harry," he replied. "Harry Potter."

Jon-Woo grinned at him, not really understanding why the two seamstresses in the room suddenly gasped and one accidentally bent a pin against his hip. He recognised the behaviour, though. Apparently, Harry's name was famous. Based on the two women's reactions, he was really famous.

The two seamstresses said nothing, however, and merely returned to their jobs, perhaps with more vigour than beforehand. Harry looked perplexed and a little embarrassed, but Jin-Woo flashed him a grin that widened when Harry flashed one of his own. Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad, he thought, if he had someone like Harry there with him.

Chapter Text

Jin-Woo and Harry finished their fittings at roughly the same time, and the black-haired boy was waiting for him outside the shop with an absolute behemoth of a man. And he said that while comparing him to Thomas Andre, who was nicknamed The Goliath for a good reason. This man, if he could even be called that, was easily nine feet tall, and loomed over everyone in the area.

He was dishevelled, and his hair and enormous, bushy beard could have used several washes and a good comb-out at the least, but his small, beetle-black eyes, hard to see in the shadows of his face, were bright and shiny with friendly warmth. His Mana was a soft, vibrant gold that glittered with flecks of cyan and maroon as it shifted around him.

Harry had introduced the man as Hagrid, seeming much more at ease with the man around. He had a firm grip when Jin-Woo shook his hand, and he found himself liking the man.

Presently, they were looking through a large, shelve-filled store called 'Flourish and Blotts', searching for the books on their list, as well as their stationary.

Both he and Harry were quietly bemoaning having to use quills instead of ballpoint pens or even lead pencils, but when Jin-Woo had asked Hagrid about it, the man had just looked at him oddly and asked what they were.

When he'd explained the writing instruments to him, Hagrid had simply shrugged, saying that was just how it was, and that the Wizarding World didn't interact with Muggles too much if they could help it.

That had apparently been the end of the conversation, as Hagrid had opened the door to the shop for them mere moments later, practically shoving them through the entrance while saying that he was going to buy them ice cream.

Jin-Woo thought it a little odd, how quickly Hagrid had brushed off or worked around anything to do with Muggles or non-magical things, but he didn't dig into it too much. Maybe the man just didn't like Muggles. Although, he hadn't come across as someone who disliked anything in particular, but then again, Jin-Woo had only known him for fifteen minutes.

So he'd gone along with it, and that had led to where he was now, letting Harry use him as a step of sorts to get a schoolbook that neither of them could easily reach down from a high shelf. Sure, he could've just used Ruler's Authority to pull the books to him, but this had seemed like a more fun idea at the time.

He still didn't regret it, and the wide grin on Harry's face when he clambered back down with the books was reward enough for the Hunter. Jin-Woo returned his grin, using Ruler's Authority behind his back to pull out two more sets of books from the list, his grin growing as Harry gaped at the open display of 'magic'.

"Woah!" Jin-Woo didn't think his grin could grow any wider at this point, and his good mood increased when he saw how delighted Harry seemed by the reappearance of Hagrid with three large ice creams.

After a quiet few minutes where they all were too busy eating their sweets to talk, they moved off to find the next store. Slugs & Jiggers’ Apothecary was dark and smelled like a dungeon – and that was something Jin-Woo was hoping he wouldn’t have to smell in this world; it was a slimy, dank smell like lichen-covered walls and stagnant water and old, dried blood. None of them seemed all that comfortable in the shop, and they left as soon as they could manage.

That left them with only three shops to visit. Jin-Woo hadn’t really wanted to go back into Ollivanders’ and face the old proprietor, but Harry had asked, looking nervous, and Jin-Woo couldn’t find it in himself to say no to the boy’s sad, pleading eyes.As he approached the door to Eyelops Owl Emporium, he heard the familiar ping of a quest notification, and stopped to read it under the pretence of looking at the owls in the window.

[A Quest Has Arrived!]

Quest received!

Companions For Life                                     Difficulty: E

Type of Quest: Sub                       No. of Attempts: N/A

Get a companion to stay with you throughout your schooling! An owl is recommended for their loyalty and ability to carry mail, but another pet may be chosen.

Goals:

-        Get a pet                                                 [Incomplete]

Pass Conditions:

Buy a Pet

Time Limit:

24 hours

Fail Conditions:

Time runs out

You give away the pet

Failure to purchase

Rewards:

1,000 Gold

A Companion

Permanent Buff (depends on companion species)

[Accept]                                                                       [Decline]

!Warning! It would be ill-advised to decline this Quest!

He sighed, resigning himself to having to care for a companion, and pressed [Accept] . He entered the Emporium a few steps behind Harry and Hagrid, and was instantly assailed by the smell. Dark and cool, the shop was the perfect habitat for the fifty-or-so owls. Despite no doubt having their cages cleaned regularly, the birds still managed to make the shop smell like an old barn.

The sensation of so many eyes on him was almost oppressive, but he had grown used to it in both past timelines, and he supposed he could manage the sensation for another few minutes. He still didn’t have to like it.

He wandered the shop, noting the different species of owl on various perches around the store, although his eyes were more drawn to the small, bright flecks of Mana that drifted around them. He spied Harry and Hagrid standing near a vibrant snowy owl with gold-flecked green Mana and smiled, making his way deeper into the store.

Soft hoots and coos followed his passage, and he could hear the shuffling and clacking of beaks and talons as the birds tracked his movements warily. He didn’t realise something was drawing him further back until he stood in front of a large, sleek-looking black-banded owl almost completely obscured by flecks of purple-and-blue Mana perched on a branch in the far corner of the shop.

While the other owls so far had shuffled away as he passed, seeming to barely tolerate his presence, this one leaned forward, nosing at his outstretched fingers with a curious beak. It clacked its beak at whatever it found, then dipped its head to butt at his hand. He obliged the bird, running soft fingers over smooth, silky feathers. He spent a few minutes like that until Harry found him, the snowy owl from earlier sitting contentedly in a cage in his arms.

“He likes you,” he said in a soft voice, calmer and steadier than he’s heard the boy since meeting him two hours ago. He isn’t sure if it’s the shop, or the owl that peers out at him with wide, curious golden eyes that’s doing it, but whatever it is, he’s glad that Harry isn’t so skittish now. He only hopes that it stays that way a little while longer.

If his suspicions were correct, however, then it probably won’t. Silently, he slipped a few of his infantry into the boy’s shadow, even as he hummed in agreement and turned to look back at the owl that was now nibbling affectionately on his fingertips, resolving to keep the boy with him if it should come to light that he wasn’t safe.

It was strange to admit, but the bird was growing on him. He could hear Hagrid slowly making his way closer, as much by the man’s loud footsteps as by the incensed screeching of the owls as he tried – to no avail – to slip past their perches without disturbing them.

The owl he’d been petting – whom he had started affectionately referring to as Geomjeong in his head – peered up at Hagrid as he came up behind them, orange eyes scrutinous. He huffed a whistling sigh and turned away with what Jin-Woo could only call disdain, seeming much more content to try and pull off Jin-Woo’s cuticles.

“Seems like yeh’ve found a good one,” Hagrid remarked, gesturing to the black-banded owl that was getting more and more vigorous in its attempts to eat his fingers. Jin-Woo chuckled at the bird despite himself and picked him up. Geomjeong hooted in a disgruntled manner and shuffled around to perch on his forearm, forcing him to hold it out at right-angles to his body so the owl didn’t fall off.

They made their way back to the cashier as a group, and Jin-Woo paid for Geomjeong and left contentedly, deciding against getting a cage for the owl. He did, however, buy a perch, food and water bowls, and a few bags of owl treats that Geomjeong seemed far too interested in. He hadn’t received an alert that told him he’d completed the Quest yet, even though he had met all of the (singular) requirements. He brushed it off as something to investigate later.

The second they left Eyelops Owl Emporium, Geomjeong took off from his arm with a shrill hoot, soaring above his head in lazy loops. He watched the bird glide for a while as he weaved through the crowds behind Hagrid, before they angled towards ‘Trundles and Baggage’, which appeared to be a trunk shop.

He and Harry both spent a long while browsing in there, while Hagrid waited outside. Geomjeong perched on the sign hanging outside the store and peered in at them. Eventually, Jin-Woo – still without anywhere concrete to stay, and why that was only occurring to him now was a mystery to him, but then again he’d never really thought things through before he did something, had he? – had settled on a trunk that could be swapped between a luggage compartment complete with undetectable extension charms and an entire apartment flat whose closet connected to the luggage compartment of the other setting.

He’d also purchased furnishings and an assortment of necessary charms to go with it to make it a liveable environment – oxygen-replenishing charms, temperature-control charms, and an assortment of enchantments to generate running water, functioning plumbing and humidity controls.

All in all, it had cost him over 6,000 Galleons, and he had winced at the price, before deciding it was probably quite reasonable for an entire flat, given that it averaged out at over 30,000 Pounds. The flat consisted of a bedroom, kitchenette and living room, bathroom, a walk-in robe, and a smaller spare room that was apparently designed to be a study space separate from the main living area. It would probably end up being a room for Geomjeong instead, though.

They left Trundles and Baggage with their belongings packed neatly away in their new trunks. He’d noticed that Harry had also bought a trunk with a flat space in it, despite Hagrid’s insistence otherwise. As they stood outside Ollivanders’, Harry suddenly lunged forward and wrapped Jin-Woo in a hug. He returned it after a second of shock in which his brain shorted out and restarted.

He could hear Beru chortling in the back of his mind and Igris’s muted amusement. Barruka, too, seemed entertained by his predicament, and the Hyakki wasn’t quiet about it, either. He tightened his grip around Harry’s painfully thin shoulders for a moment before letting go and smiling at the boy.

“Shall we?” He asked, gesturing to the door to the shop. Harry visibly gathered his courage and straightened up, nodding. Jin-Woo was the one to push open the door, stepping back into the cool darkness of the shop’s interior. Immediately, the magic of the wands pushed at his core, and he tightened his shields again.

His Ebony and Fir wand sent out a pulse of possessive purple-and-gold magic, wrapping itself around his core, and the other wands backed off, distinctly uninterested when they realised that he already had a wand, and turned their focus on Harry, who didn’t seem to notice their prodding.

He watched as a soft silver glow weaved through the myriad of colours emanating from the wands on display, drawing nearer by the second. Ollivander, it seemed, could move quickly if he so wished. He saw the glow of the elderly man’s magic loop around to the side, and then the man came into view.

Harry and Hagrid had moved further into the shop, and Hagrid was taking a seat on an old, rickety wooden chair that groaned under his weight. Neither of them saw the man approach, but Jin-Woo did. He nodded slowly to Ollivander, who paused for a moment before returning the gesture and walking quietly up to Harry’s side.

“Good afternoon,” Ollivander said in his soft, wispy voice, and Jin-Woo stifled a laugh as both Harry and Hagrid jumped, Hagrid’s chair making a loud crunching noise that prompted the large man to stand quickly.

“Hello,” Harry replied awkwardly.

“Ah yes,” Ollivander said as Jin-Woo walked up next to Harry. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter,” he murmured.

“You have your mother’s eyes. It seems almost yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.” Jin-Woo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, leaning slightly towards Harry as Ollivander stepped closer, eyes fixed on the boy’s face.

“Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for Transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it,” he trailed off, eyes drifting to Jin-Woo, and he smiled softly. “It’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. Young Mister Sung knows that quite well, I think.”

Harry startled slightly and turned to look at Jin-Woo, who was staring levelly back at Ollivander. Ollivander stepped closer to Harry again as the black-haired boy turned back, and Jin-Woo’s stare turned sharp. Ollivander took a step back at the same time Harry did, albeit for differing reasons.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that gave you that scar, Mister Potter,” Ollivander remarked, his eyes glowing sadly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . Well,” he sighed. “If I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do . . .”

The old man shook his head, then his gaze snapped to Hagrid. Jin-Woo frowned Ollivander. There was something there, but what could he have meant? Something to do, perhaps, with Harry’s family status? And what scar? Jin-Woo snuck a glance at Harry’s face, but couldn’t see any scars . . . unless it was hidden under that cluster of darker red-black magic?

“Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again . . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”

“It was, sir, yes,” Hagrid said, his hand tightening minutely around the pink umbrella he had refused to let go of the entire time Jin-Woo had known him.

“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it when you got expelled?” Ollivander’s words were sharp and his eyes were hawk-like. Hagrid clutched his umbrella tighter. Jin-Woo glanced up at Hagrid. The man had been expelled?

He couldn’t think of anything the man could possibly be expelled for, he seemed rather too sweet and gentle to do anything warranting expulsion. Although maybe British schools were different? Or perhaps it was the wizarding community who had different rules?

“Er, yes, they did, yes,” Hagrid’s large shoes scuffed at the ground as he shuffled in place. “I’ve still got the pieces, though!”

Jin-Woo resisted the urge to facepalm.

“Hmmmm,” Ollivander said, scrutinising the large man. “I hope you do not use them still,” he remarked.

“No, no, sir,” Hagrid assured, holding his umbrella tighter still.

“Hmm,” Ollivander said again, before turning to Harry. “Well, now. Mister Potter. Let me see.” He said, removing the long silver tape measure he’d used on Jin-Woo. “Which is your wand arm?”

“I’m right-handed, sir,” Harry said after a questioning glance at Jin-Woo, who nodded slowly.

“Hold out your arm,” Ollivander requested, flicking his wand at the tape measure, and it flitted around, taking Harry’s measurements as Ollivander drifted off to collect wand boxes. As he gathered them, he prattled on, giving Harry something similar to the speech he’d given Jin-Woo earlier.

“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mister Potter. We use Unicorn hairs, Phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of Dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two Unicorns, Dragons, or Phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand as you would with your own,” Ollivander said. “That will do,” he remarked to the tape measure, and it crumpled to the floor in a heap before zipping back into the man’s pocket.

“Right then, Mister Potter. Try this one,” he requested, holding out an open wand box. The magic emanating from the wood of the wand was a cool, soft blue like the waters of a mountain stream, and though it complemented the colour of Harry’s magic, Jin-Woo knew before Harry picked it up that it wouldn’t be a match.

“Beechwood and Dragon heartstring,” Ollivander was saying, “Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Harry complied, picking up the beechwood wand, but Ollivander took it back almost immediately, replacing it with another.

“Maple and Phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-” But as soon as Harry picked up the wand, its purple magic writhing at the touch, Ollivander took that one, too. “No, no. Here,” the man said, handing Harry another. “Ebony and Unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on,” he urged, “try it out.”

Harry tried, but the wand, with its bronze-hued magic, was quickly taken back. The wand choosing went on like that for quite some time, with Harry growing visibly more dejected with each wand that passed through his hands.

At one point, Ollivander brought out an old wand that his grandfather had made, of red oak and Horned Serpent horn, and Jin-Woo straightened from where he’d leant against a nearby shelf. The magic emanating from the wand almost perfectly matched Harry’s own, and for a few moments he thought the boy had found his match.

But then a flicker of dark, blue-green magic flecked with silver and lilac shot from somewhere near Harry’s core and deflected the reaching, greeting tendrils of the wand’s magic, and Ollivander took the wand from his hands as it emitted a low, whistling tone.

Jin-Woo frowned. That hadn’t looked like Harry’s magic at all . The colour seemed to clash with Harry’s own, just as much as the magic centred around what Jin-Woo now knew was a lightning-bolt scar on the boy’s forehead. He didn’t like what that little flash of interfering magic meant.

Jin-Woo watched the next few wands carefully, but nothing like it happened again, and he eventually began to tune the choosing out again. But then Ollivander was handing Harry a wand that glowed with the same dark reddish-orange colour as the magic in his scar, and the grasping tendrils of the black-and-red magic were reaching down to coil with the magic of the wand even as Harry’s hand brushed the wood.

The shop was filled with a warm glow as Harry flicked the wand and red and gold sparks shot from the end of it. Jin-Woo saw small flickering specs of that interfering blue-green magic swirling around the connection for a moment, but then he blinked, and it was gone.

Harry’s grin was wide, wider than Hagrid’s, but Jin-Woo frowned. That wand wasn’t meant for Harry. It was connected to him, yes, but not through his own magic. It was linked to the thing in his scar. And this time, the strange magic that had appeared hadn’t stopped the connection. If anything, it had almost reinforced it. Jin-Woo didn’t like it one bit. He tuned back in as Harry said something.

“Sorry,” the boy was saying, “but what’s curious?”

Ollivander looked up at Harry’s face, and the boy seemed almost pinned by the older man’s gaze.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mister Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the Phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand then its  brother – why, its brother gave you that scar.” But Ollivander was frowning slightly, too, and Jin-Woo saw him glancing back towards where he’d set the red oak wand off to one side, away from the pile of other wands.

The older man looked up and met Jin-Woo’s eyes for a moment, before twitching his head slightly towards the wand case. Jin-Woo nodded, understanding what the man wanted as he continued speaking.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mister Potter. . . . after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great nonetheless.”

Jin-Woo laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder as the boy shivered, and then leaned into the touch slightly. But Ollivander was still speaking.

“It seems I will be expecting great things from you both. After all, one of you holds a wand with a core of death, and the other a core of life.” The old man’s large silvery eyes rested on Jin-Woo for a moment before he turned and led the way to the counter. Jin-Woo waited for Hagrid to pass him before collecting the red oak wand in its box and following after them. He made sure Harry and Hagrid didn’t see him purchase the wand and slip it into his inventory before he left the shop.

Outside, Hagrid was getting ready to take Harry back to his aunt and uncle’s house. The boy looked nervous and reluctant, as though he wanted to ask something but didn’t think it would be well-received. Jin-Woo thought he knew what it might be.

Harry turned to him then, and wrapped him in another hug, this one much tighter than the last, and it went on for longer. Jin-Woo reciprocated immediately this time, taking the opportunity to slip a few more soldiers into Harry’s shadow.

But then Harry was pulling away, and Hagrid was leading him back to the entrance to the Alley. He waved goodbye to Harry and Hagrid as they went their separate ways, Geomjeong hooting loudly at Hedwig as he flew off to circle over Jin-Woo’s head.

He had asked Hagrid, after they’d finished their ice cream, if Harry could come explore the rest of the community with him, but Hagrid had said that he was under strict instructions to help Harry with his shopping and then drop him back at his aunt and uncle’s house. Jin-Woo had frowned at that, and the way Harry had flinched and curled in on himself was all he’d needed to see to know exactly why the boy was so timid.

But he hadn’t found a way to ask that wouldn’t sound prying, and he didn’t think it would be appropriate for friends – were they friends? He wasn’t sure. Acquaintances, at the very least – of two hours to ask such things of each other.

So he hadn’t. He’d stayed quiet and kept his thoughts to himself, but at least now there were some Shadows with Harry to watch over him. He was pulled from his thoughts as the ambient noise grew suddenly louder, and saw that the street he’d turned down was actually an open-air market.

He slipped through the crowds, eyeing up the wares, and after combing through the entire market bought some bags and collected some food for the week. The familiar act of buying groceries as he usually would for himself and Jin-Ah calmed something in him that he hadn’t noticed was running rampant until it stopped. It made him feel tired in a way that even starting from scratch hadn’t.

He suddenly missed home. His mother. His sister. Jin-Ho. Jin-Chul. The hustle and bustle of Seol in the early mornings, and the quiet of the apartment at three a.m. He didn’t even have any photos of them in his inventory. He sighed, his chest tight, and turned down a darker alleyway.

Geomjeong dove down and perched on his shoulder, peering around with interest as the buildings grew densely-packed and gloomy. He spotted a sign for a pet shop and drifted over, looking at the creatures displayed in the window.

A bell chimed as he opened the door, and he looked around the dimly-lit shop with interest. Geomjeong had flatly refused to come inside, and when Jin-Woo had suggested he stay on his shoulder and come in with him, the owl had given him a very unimpressed look and had nipped sharply at his ear before flapping off to glare at him from the shop’s sign.

The walls were lined with tanks, each housing a different creature. Some held fish, others spiders, and others yet held reptiles or amphibians. Jin-Woo wandered through the store for a while, looking at each of the creatures, and stopped in front of a large tank. He could see the vague shape of a coiled snake in the back corner, but as he stopped in front of the tank it turned to stare at him and slid closer.

The snake lifted itself from the rock in the bottom of the tank to slide halfway up the glass, tongue flickering in and out intermittently. It cocked its head to one side slightly, looking at him, and then settled back onto the rock again.

“Another human,” it hissed, and Jin-Woo startled for a moment, before noticing the specs of dark blue-purple magic drifting around it and condensing around a spot near where its heart would be, if it had only one instead of three, or even seven. Snake anatomy was weird.

Jin-Woo wasn’t sure if it had more than one. A magical snake, then. And one that appeared to have a core. Maybe it was a magical breed?

“I wouldn’t exactly call myself human,” Jin-Woo replied in the monster tongue. The snake’s head snapped up to stare at him, and it swayed in the air a little.

“A being who speaks,” it murmured. “Fascinating.”

“Most beings speak,” Jin-Woo replied, “You need only know how they do it.”

The snake let out a low hiss that could have been the human equivalent of a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose there is wisdom in that,” it mused, “although I fail to see how it matters to me. Have you come to take one of us?”

Jin-Woo thought for a moment, then nodded. He went to the counter of the dark shop and brought the man back to the snake’s cage.

“How much for the snake?” He asked, gesturing to the tank with the talkative reptile in it. The shopkeeper contemplated for a moment before speaking.

“100 Galleons,” the storekeeper said.

Jin-Woo blinked, then dug around in his small-transaction pouch for the money. The shopkeeper started collecting all of the equipment Jin-Woo would need, and also gave him a packet of information that he said was given to all of his buying customers the first time they came in.

Several minutes later, Jin-Woo was walking out of the store with the snake sat comfortably in the spare room in his trunk, which was now in his Inventory, and a completed quest.

He felt satisfied with his day as he turned back to the Leaky Cauldron. After buying a week’s worth of board, Jin-Woo went up to his room and set up his trunk. Then, with a sigh, he settled in for the night. Today, he thought, had gone very well indeed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Harry and Jin-Woo arrived at King’s Cross with little fanfare. Though, there was a period of time where the two wandered around, both of them were busy trying to find the platform mentioned on the ticket. 'Platform nine and three quarters' was a strange name, Harry had said when they checked the tickets. Jin-Woo quite agreed.

Jin-Woo spotted a swirl of magic in the, otherwise bleak, station. Blue danced between the grout. Lazy, but inviting. It  coats the bricks of the dividing barrier, between  9 and 10. It looked rather similar to the magic on Diagon Alley’s entrance - now that he knew what to look for.

He’d gone and found Harry, who was poking the benches in the middle of the platform. That had garnered a few odd looks from security and occasional passersby. They’d both stood, looking up at the wall for a few moments. Then, Jin-Woo had pressed a hand to the bricks . . . and it had gone right through. Magic had tingled around him as he passed through the illusion, towing his trolley.

Harry had followed him through a moment later. They had stepped out onto the steam-wreathed platform together and stared. An enormous, scarlet steam engine sat idling on the tracks. Steam drifted from the chimney to settle over the platform like a dense fog.

They shared a glance before making their way towards the rapidly-filling train. The platform had grown busier in the few minutes since they arrived. It was a challenge to make it to the doors of the train at the same time.

People pressed in from every angle; trying to get to the train to board, or say goodbye to loved ones. Harry reached the train first, small and quick as he is and held the door open for Jin-Woo. He hated being this short again, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

They managed to find an empty compartment partway down the train and shut themselves in, stowing their trunks overhead. Well, Jin-Woo had stowed their trunks, anyway. Harry was small, even for an 11-year-old. Especially for an 11-year-old.

The platform outside the window grew busier as they settled in. Harry was reading a book on Potions. Jin-Woo wias reading an expanded version of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Eventually, though, the train let out an ear-piercing whistle. There was a sudden rush as last-minute arrivals scrambled to find seats, and then they were off.

The ride was quiet, for the most part. The only sounds in the compartment were the rattling of the door and the flipping of pages. Then, footsteps outside the door made Jin-Woo look up, just in time for the door to slide open. A lanky, red-headed boy stuck his head in, leaning against the doorframe.

“Anyone sitting here?” The boy was looking at Harry, and hadn’t even seemed to notice Jin-Woo was there. The two of them shared a glance, and then Jin-Woo shrugged, nodding to the other half of the empty seat. Harry nodded and looked back at the boy.

“Sit if you like,” he said with a shrug, curling his legs underneath him. Jin-Woo was sitting in a similar manner, and the red-headed boy sat down heavily next to him without so much as a glance in his direction.

“I’m Ron, by the way,” the boy said as he leaned back against the wall. “Ron Weasley.”

Harry glanced at Jin-Woo again, and Jin-Woo shrugged. Again.

“I’m Harry,” he replied.

“Just Harry?” Ron asked.

“For now,” Harry replied, looking back down at his book. Jin-Woo shifted to a more comfortable position, and Ron jumped. Apparently, he had only just noticed him.

“Who’re you?”

Jin-Woo stared at the boy blankly for a moment before replying.

“I’m Jin-Woo,” he said in a flat voice.

“Jin-Woo? What sorta name is that?” Ron asked. Quite rudely, in Jin-Woo’s opinion.

“A name,” Jin-Woo replied levelly.

Ron’s nose scrunched up a little, and he turned back to Harry.

“Are you sure you’re Just Harry?” The boy asked. “Surely everyone has a family name.”

Harry glanced up from his book, then went back to reading.

“I have a family name,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with it.”

Harry and Jin-Woo had spent a lot of time in Diagon during the summer. The boys had quickly learned that giving Harry’s last name was a surefire way to be swamped by eager wizards wanting to meet him. 

Ron didn’t seem all that impressed by Harry’s response, but grumbled and settled back nonetheless. Jin-Woo huffed and turned a page, looking at the depiction of the creature. It was startlingly familiar. He looked up at the name on the top of the page, then back at the picture. The serpent in the image was sliding around in its frame, staring up at him curiously.

A Nædre, hmm? He mused, watching the image move. It looked rather like his own snake did. Whom Harry had named Tenebris, for his scales. He scanned through the information on the page, his eyebrow drifting closer to his hairline the more he read. Colour-changing eyes with a supposedly hypnotic effect, and ever-changing venom that made bites incredibly difficult to treat.

He hummed and flipped to the next page, only half paying attention to the conversation. Ron had picked up the topic again, and was continuing to needle Harry about his name. Harry was growing more and more defensive, and the argument was getting louder.

Finally, Jin-Woo had enough.

He slowly lowered his book, glaring over the top of it at Ron. And someone chose that moment to open the compartment door again. Jin-Woo’s head snapped around. The bushy-haired girl sticking her head into the compartment became the unfortunate target of Jin-Woo’s icy glare.

The girl squeaked and ducked out of the compartment again. Closing the door behind her, Jin-Woo turned back to Ron again. Then, the train jolted a little and Harry’s bangs shifted, revealing his scar.

Ron saw it, and let out a shocked cry, jumping to his feet.

“You’re Ha-” He didn’t get any further than that before Jin-Woo’s glare turned positively arctic. The temperature in the compartment plummeted and the room darkened. The red-head fell silent with a strangled squeak and sat back in his seat with a heavy thump. He was quiet for a moment longer before whispering harshly.

“You’re Harry Potter! Bloody hell, why didn’t you say so?”

Harry scowled, gesturing to all of Ron.

“That is exactly why.” His voice was flat, deadpan. Jin-Woo withheld a snicker.

“You just gestured to all of me. And whadd’ya mean, ‘that is exactly why’? I didn’t even do anything!” Ron cried, outraged.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“If you say so,” he replied dryly and returned to reading his book. Jin-Woo kept glaring at Ron until the red-headed boy grew uncomfortable and left. He caught sight of a flash of violet and green magic as the door rattled closed. Was the girl he’d accidentally scared earlier still out there? He stood and walked to the door, poking his head out, and looked to the side. She was still there.

“Hello,” Jin-Woo said amicably, making the girl jump. She clearly hadn’t heard him open the compartment door. “Apologies for earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” the girl replied with a slight quaver in her voice. Was she still scared of him? That wouldn’t do.

“Would you like to come in?” He stepped back, holding the compartment door open. The girl hesitated for a moment, then followed him into the compartment. A round-faced boy with green-blue magic flecked with red and orange followed her meekly.

“Sorry, but the reason we were here was because Neville lost his toad, and we were looking for it.” The bushy-haired girl said. Jin-Woo nodded, silently sending out some of his shadows to look for the toad.

“I’m Jin-Woo, by the way. Again, sorry about earlier,” he said. The round-faced boy was still standing awkwardly near the door. That must be Neville.

“I’m Hermione,” the bushy-haired girl - now identified as Hermione - replied with a smile.

“Oh. I’m, uh, I, uh, I’m Ne- Neville,” Neville stuttered.

Jin-Woo smiled softly at him, gesturing to the two free seats.

“Please, sit down.” One of his shadows alerted an affirmative, and he recalled all but that shadow. “One moment.”

He stood, quickly leaving to retrieve the toad. When he returned, Harry was engaged in a conversation about the classes the trio were looking forward to. Hermione, apparently, was looking forward to all of them. Harry was looking forward to Potions, of course. Neville was looking forward to Herbology. It made sense, the boy’s magic fit it.

Jin-Woo put the toad in Neville’s hands, surprising the boy. He shut the door tightly to make sure the creature couldn’t escape again. Neville grinned up at him, grateful.

Time flew by, after that, and soon an elderly lady with a trolley full of sweets was trundling past. Harry and Jin-Woo split the cost of buying some of everything. Soon the compartment was filled with chatter and laughter as they all tried the magic-infused sweets.

Unfortunately, all too soon there was another interruption. Draco opened the compartment door, flanked by two burly boys with matching grey-red magic. The one on the left had small flecks of blue and gold mixed in with the other colours, but otherwise, they were near-identical.

“Is it true?” Draco asked without pause. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

“Yes,” Harry said in a flat voice. He was clearly as tired of this kind of reaction as Jin-Woo was. Hermione and Neville, having already been introduced to Harry, didn’t react. They were decent-enough people that they didn’t have a fit when they found out.

“Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle.” Malfoy pointed to the boy with blue-and-gold flecks in his magic first. “Who are you?”

Jin-Woo raised an eyebrow. He never actually had introduced himself to the blond, had he?

“Sung Jin-Woo,” he said. Draco’s nose scrunched up for a moment, and then he was turning to Neville and Hermione.

“And you?”

“Nev- Neville Longbottom,” Neville said. Jin-Woo noticed that his stutter was back again. As the boy had gotten more comfortable with the three of them, he had stuttered less. But now it was back in full force.

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione said. “You’re rather rude, you know that?”

Draco scoffed.

“And you’re rather ugly,” he shot back.

Hermione cried out in outrage, and Harry started to get to his feet, but Jin-Woo put an arm across him to keep him in place.

“I suggest you leave,” Jin-Woo said. His glare was icy, and the compartment seemed to grow darker and colder.

Draco swallowed roughly, then scowled.

“Fine,” he said, and turned and left.

“Are you alright?” Jin-Woo asked, turning to Hermione as he used Ruler’s Authority to close the compartment door. Draco had left it open, the prick.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” Hermione said. “You didn’t have to stand up for me like that.”

“He was being incredibly rude and antagonistic. Besides, he insulted my friend,” Jin-Woo said, and with a jolt realised he meant it. He considered everyone in the compartment a friend or closer. He already saw Harry in a similar light to Jin-Ho. “I won’t abide by bullies.”

Hermione grinned, and Neville looked surprised but elated.

“You think of me as a friend?” She asked.

Jin-Woo nodded.

“I do,” he replied.

The compartment fell into comfortable silence after that, and it stayed that way until they reached Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

It was dark outside when the train reached Hogwarts. Not that it bothered Jin-Woo, who merely mixed a small amount of Mana into his vision. Not enough to make his eyes visibly glow , but enough that he could see as though there was a full moon in the sky.

The platform was tiny. Students were flooding out of every door on the train, many of them forsaking the platform entirely to instead jump down beside the tracks. The second years and up were walking towards a row of skeletal horses towing carriages.

Jin-Woo stared, fascinated, at one of the nearby creatures and it stared back at him before bowing low. He inclined his head in its direction, but turned away when Hagrid’s voice rang out over the crowd.

“Firs’ Years! Firs’ Years over here! Alrigh’ there, Harry? Jin-Woo?” The enormous man asked as he drew closer. “C’mon, follow me - any more Firs’ Years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ Years follow me!”

A large gaggle of students broke off from the rest to follow Hagrid down a steep, rock-strewn path that led towards a deep, dark lake. Jin-Woo stuck close to Harry, Neville and Hermione, keeping them all within his sight.

He slipped a few shadows onto Hermione as he steadied her when she slipped. A few were slipped onto Neville when he had to be helped onto his feet a few minutes later. Even if he didn’t end up in the same House as any of his friends, he would make sure he could protect them.

And then Hogwarts came into view. Gasps echoed around him as people caught sight of the enormous castle with its softly glowing windows and sheer stone walls. Jin-Woo still found it a grand sight, despite having witnessed it before.

“No more ‘n four to a boat!” Hagrid called as the group of First Years filed out onto the dark shores of the lake. Jin-Woo climbed into the nearest one, staring down into the black water warily. Neville, Harry and Hermione climbed in next to him. Hagrid climbed into one on his own, and the boat settled so low in the water he thought it would sink. Then Hagrid was calling the boats forward. 

The small fleet of dinghies moved off as one, and Neville clutched the side of their boat nervously. Jin-Woo could see an energetic student and his friend a few boats over swaying from side-to-side in unison. The boat tipped a touch too far to the left and one of the pair was splashed. They shrieked, and then the rocking stopped. They did not start it again.

Jin-Woo chuckled and shook his head, smiling softly. Being around Harry so much had softened some of his harder edges, and blunted those the System had sought to sharpen. He acted more and more like an eleven-year-old boy by the day, but Jin-Woo couldn’t find it in himself to mind much.

“Heads down!” Hagrid called as the fleet of boats approached the sheer cliff on which Hogwarts stood. People ducked, hunkering down below the edges of their boats, and they passed into a low-hanging, narrow tunnel. The little boats carried them into a natural cove inside the cliffs with a wide stone ledge embedded in the side. Steps led from the ledge up to a stone platform further up the walls, where an innocuous wooden door sat.

“Ev’ryone here?” Hagrid asked when he clambered out of his little boat. The craft immediately bobbed higher in the water, rocking from side to side. A murmur of affirmatives rippled through the crowd and Hagrid nodded. He turned and strode quickly up the stairs, stopping before the large wooden door set into the wall. Raising a fist to the wood, he knocked loudly three times.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, stern-faced older woman in glittering emerald green robes. Jin-Woo thought she looked rather like one of his old teachers. She certainly hadn’t been someone to upset. It didn’t look like it would be a good idea to upset this woman, either. Hagrid nodded to her respectfully and gestured over his shoulder.

“The firs’ years, Profess’r McGonagall,” he said.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” the woman - now identified as Professor McGonagall - said with a curt nod. “I will take it from here.”

The door was pushed wider, and the Professor gestured for the first years to come inside. Even Jin-Woo paused for a moment at the size of the room on the other side. The walls stretched up and away, meeting in a cathedral-like ridge of arches along the underside of the ceiling. He had to admit, it was an impressive sight, but one he suspected he should have anticipated. It was, after all, an English castle.

The first years trailed obediently behind the Professor as she led them across the room. She opened a smaller door below the giant marble staircase in the centre of the room and gestured for them to enter. The students filed in quietly, crowding into the disproportionately large room. The door closed behind them as the Professor turned to face them all.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she began, “the start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the great hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will become a great credit to whichever House becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Professor McGonagall eyed Neville’s cloak, which was clasped closer to his ear than his chest, and the apparently permanent smudge on Weasley’s nose. He chuckled quietly as he noticed Harry trying to fix his wild mane of hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” McGonagall said, “please wait quietly.” And with that, she swept from the room. The students around him immediately burst into excited chatter.

Turning to help Neville with his cloak, he listened to the conversations around him.

“How exactly do they sort us into Houses?” That was Weasley, asking a smaller girl with mousy brown hair, who looked rather put-upon by it.

“Some sort of test, according to my brothers,” Weasley prattled on, ignoring the girl’s attempts to edge away from him. “Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

He felt Neville freeze and begin to tremble from where he was re-pinning his cloak beneath his chin, and leaned back slightly to look the boy in the eyes.

“Neville, hey, listen to me. It’s a hat. A ratty old hat. They put it on your head, and it calls out the name of the Hogwarts House that suits you best. You’ll be fine. There’s no test. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Jin-Woo was babbling. He knew he was babbling. But Neville was panicking. And honestly? The talking was keeping him calm as much as it was an attempt to calm his friend.

“Come on, Neville, breathe with me. In and out. Deep breaths, Nev. Deep breaths.”

Slowly, Neville’s breathing calmed and he zoned back in on Jin-Woo.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, when Neville seemed to be mostly back to normal. Neville nodded, and seemed about to reply when someone screamed.

Jin-Woo, not expecting the sudden noise, stood bolt upright so fast he was surprised his spine didn’t snap in half. Pushing Harry and Hermione behind him with Neville, he turned to scan the room for the cause.

Ghosts. Fucking ghosts.

Jin-Woo glared at the loudly chattering spectres, who fell immediately silent and peered back. The staring match lasted for nearly ten seconds before the ghosts’ colours faded from a bluish silver to a sickly grey and they darted through the opposite wall.

He huffed out a short breath and turned back to his three friends, who all looked rather dazed. Hermione was the first to shake herself out of her stupor, opening her mouth to say something. Before she could form more than a word, however, Professor McGonagall returned. She surveyed the room silently for a moment before speaking.

“The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. Please form a line.”

There was a sudden rush of sound as the first years shuffled into a line, and then they were being led out of the waiting room, across the antechamber, and into the buzzing conversations of the Great Hall.

The doors creaked quietly as they opened, and the low hum of voices cut out almost immediately as every head in the room turned to watch the first years. The first years paused in their tracks, staring back at the occupants of the hall with wide, terrified eyes. The low hum of voices came back, louder than before, as the older students began to speculate which students would end up in which House.

Slowly, like lost ducklings trailing after their mother, the first years made their way to a raised platform at the front of the hall. The staff table stood in the middle of the platform, but in front of it was a small, four-legged stool. 

And on that stool was an old, ragged, worn-out hat. Jin-Woo stared at the vibrant magics that swirled around the hat, which appeared to be building towards something. Greens and silvers, blues and bronzes, reds and golds, matte black and vibrant yellow all tumbled and roiled around the old, crumpled hat in a playful symphony of colour.

The hat twitched, then sat straighter on its stool. A tear in its brim opened like a mouth, and as it began to sing in an off-key, tuneless manner, a flicker of terribly familiar red-and-blue joined the swirls of magic surrounding the hat. It was the same magic that had forced Harry’s wand choice. He’d seen sheens of that colour cover the eyes of some of the people who had mobbed Harry occasionally in Diagon. He didn’t like what that magic meant.

“Oh you may not think I’m pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself if you can find 
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,
And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can’t see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave of heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands (though I have none),

For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

Jin-Woo clapped along politely as the rest of the hall burst into thunderous applause. Surely the hat hadn’t been that entertaining?

Professor McGonagall stepped forwards after a few moments holding a roll of parchment, which she quickly opened as she addressed the first years.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

The small, mousy-haired girl that Weasley had been talking at earlier made her way forward and sat on the stool. The hat fell down over her eyes. As Jin-Woo watched, a strand of red-and-blue magic coiled around the hat’s brim and darted into one of the girl’s ears. After a few moments in silence, the hat called out a House.

“Hufflepuff!”

The yellow-and-black table under a banner with a badger on it cheered as Hannah took a seat.

“Bones, Susan!” McGonagall called.

“Hufflepuff!” The Hat called a moment later. The red-and-blue magic twirled around the tip of the hat and circled in front of the girl’s eyes as she removed the sentient headwear.

And so it continued. Throughout it all, the red-and-blue magic flitted around and sometimes over the hat and whoever was on the stool. It made Jin-Woo’s hands ache with how tightly he was clenching them. Soon, however, one of Jin-Woo’s friends was called.

“Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione sat on the stool for all of thirty seconds before the hat declared her a Gryffindor. The blue-and-red magic whirled around her head in a flurry, darting in and out of her eyes, nose and mouth. Jin-Woo didn’t want to know what it was doing. The red-and-gold table under a lion banner cheered loudly as she stood up and flounced - flounced! She hadn’t been moving like that before - down to take her seat.

Not long after Hermione came Neville. The poor boy almost tripped on his way to the Hat, but Jin-Woo caught his arm and gave it an encouraging squeeze that Neville returned with a shaky smile. Jin-Woo kept his eyes trained on the red-and-blue magic as it wove in and out of Neville’s ears and around the Hat, dodging nimbly between the other magical signatures wrapped around it. 

When the Hat finally called out ‘Gryffindor!’, Neville was shaking so badly the stool clattered in place, and he ran off with the Hat still on his head and had to run back and give it to one ‘MacDougal, Morag’.

Jin-Woo frowned worriedly as he watched the boy take a seat next to Hermione. He would have to go find Neville later. If not tonight, then certainly tomorrow. He hoped that they were in the same house. But, with Neville being in Gryffindor, it wasn’t likely.

The next few Sortings flew by, and Jin-Woo only paid enough attention to notice that Malfoy - unsurprisingly - ended up in Slytherin. Soon, however, it was Harry’s turn.

“Potter, Harry!”

As Harry made his way up to the stool, the Hall erupted into hissing whispers behind them.

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

Jin-Woo took in the teachers’ reactions as Harry sat on the stool. Two of their reactions stood out to him the most. A teacher with long, greasy black hair and a large hooked nose was scowling at Harry as though he’d spat on the man’s boots. Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes at the man, and watched as rich navy-black-green magic swirled around him.

The other notable reaction came from the silver-haired man in the middle of the table, presumably the headmaster. He was leaning forward in his seat and appeared to be watching Harry’s Sorting intensely over his half-moon spectacles. A nastily familiar shade of red-and-blue magic swirled around him.

Suddenly, the Hat called out Harry’s House, and Jin-Woo turned back to watch the boy he considered his dongsaeng.

“Gryffindor!”

Harry practically bounced out of his seat, barely glancing at Jin-Woo as he made his way to the red-and-gold table. Two tall, rowdy red-heads - perhaps Weasley’s siblings? - were holding each other in a loose, one-armed hug as they rocked side-to-side chanting ‘we got Potter, we got Potter’.

And then there were five people left.

McGonagall cleared her throat, straightening a nonexistent crease in the parchment, and read out the next name.

“Sung, Jin-Woo.”

Jin-Woo straightened, stepping out of line and making his way to the stool. The magics surrounding the hat swirled faster and faster as he approached, whirling up into a veritable storm of energy. The swirling energies abruptly cut out as he touched the hat, and as he slipped the thing over his head, that damned strand of red-and-blue zipped down to skirt over his hands before darting straight for his face.

Jin-Woo brought up a reflexive wall of mana and the strand slammed into it. The cold burn of his magic dissolved the foreign magic into nothing in a small flash of sparks and a puff of smoke.

Well, that was interesting, said a voice in his head.

The Hat, I presume? Jin-Woo answered, trying not to turn and look around.

Indeed, replied the Hat. But I would prefer the name Alastair, if you please; He/They.

Jin-Woo bobbed his head slightly, humming.

And I must thank you for getting rid of that pesky compulsion charm, Alastair continued. It was making it truly difficult to sort the students.

Is that what it was? Jin-Woo asked. He could feel Alastair rifling through his memories in the back of his mind and kept half a metaphorical ‘eye’ on the sentient hat’s movements.

Do stop fretting, Alastair said with a bemused chuckle. I am bound by the castle; I cannot reveal anything I see in your mind.

That made Jin-Woo relax slightly.

What of my placement?

Well, you would certainly do well in Slytherin, but I can see you do not wish to be there. Gryffindor, much though you would prefer to stay there with your friends, is a poor fit for your personality. Ravenclaw is likewise ruled out. 

You are quite loyal, however, Alastair continued. And very hardworking. Everything you’ve achieved thus far has been for the benefit of your family and friends, and you do not amass power for power’s sake. Yes, the best place for you is-

“HUFFLEPUFF!” Alastair called aloud, the shout nearly deafening from Jin-Woo’s place right below the source.

Thank you, he said as he removed the hat and set it on the stool. Alastair tipped his point down in a nod. The magics of the hat curled around his hand a little as he let go before retreating to swirl around Alastair again.

Settling himself in at the end of the Hufflepuff table, he nodded to several of the older students who had greeted him as he made his way over.

Next was a girl named Lisa, who was sorted into Ravenclaw, and then it was Weasley’s turn. The boy was, to Jin-Woo’s dismay, sorted into Gryffindor.

The last two Sortings passed much faster than previously, and the compulsion charm did not reappear. 

Chapter Text

Hello there!

Terribly sorry to have to announce this, but due to reasons (the USB I was keeping my drafts on wiping itself) I will be marking all of my current works as complete and rewriting/reworking them as I see fit until I (hopefully) have them finished and/or to a point where I am capable of continuing them without falling as far behind on updates as I have.

That said, THESE WORKS ARE NOT ABANDONED

The only works that I have abandoned have been sorted into a collection that marks them as such.

I’m sorry that I have to do this, but I am struggling under the self-imposed pressure and the dynamic shift that is graduating High School, so this is the best option for my mental health. If all goes well (praying to any deity willing to listen that I don’t jinx myself with this) I’ll be back with new (and re-worked) chapters in a few months.

Chapter Text

The Great Hall was silent for a moment as the last of the Sorted students settled in with their new Houses. The man in the middle of the staff table got to his feet. Jin-Woo felt like he should know the man’s name, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. The old man smiled genially, his eyes twinkling brightly as he raised his hands.

“Welcome!” He began, “welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

Jin-Woo scoffed quietly as the man sat down, eyeing the plates warily as they suddenly flared with a blaze of shimmering silver magic. He needn’t have worried, however, as they appeared only to provide food. 

He reached warily for a jacket potato and carved it open with his knife as the clinking of plates and goblets and students chattering away filled the air. Only half paying attention to the conversations around him as he reached for the bowls of sour cream and bacon bits, he nearly summoned one of his daggers as someone poked him in the shoulder.

“Hey,” the poker said, and as he turned to look he saw it was a tall older student with bubblegum pink hair. “Could you pass me the chives, please?”

Jin-woo nodded, relaxing his tense muscles as he passed the student their requested topping.

“Thanks,” they said, flashing him a grin. “I’m Tonks, by the way.”

“Sung Jin-Woo,” he replied quietly, eyeing the food spread before him with disappointment. No rice at all, nor any fish or seafood. The latter he could understand, considering the potential for allergic reactions, but even the Leakey Cauldron had served - admittedly limited - rice dishes. He sighed and turned back to his potato.

There were plenty of other dishes nearby, from eggs to pork to lamb and even venison, but he wasn’t familiar with many of the meals, and so decided to stay with just the potatoes. 

Soon enough, the meal was finished. The plates glowed with silvery magic again and the food scraps vanished, leaving the dishes sparkling clean. 

The bearded man stood from his seat at the high table and spread his arms wide. Silence reigned. 

“Ahem — just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.”

Jin-Woo wondered why that was. He assumed the forest the man was referring to was the forest the Gate had spat him out in, and considering the hostility and caution the Centaurs had displayed, it was understandable, although he wasn’t sure he trusted that to be the reason for the ban if this man had established it.

“A few of our older students would do well to remember this as well,” the man continued, his gaze resting on the Gryffindor table as he spoke. “I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their team should contact Madam Hooch.

“And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

There was a lot of muttering at the last statement, but it died down again as the man raised his hands, wand held aloft.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!”

Immediately, the expressions of every adult and older student became pained. The old man seemed oblivious as he continued to speak, a flick of his wand sending a long golden ribbon twisting into the air with a shimmer of that awful blue-red magic.

“Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!”

Jin-Woo did not sing, even as a majority of the hall reluctantly broke into a cacophony that could barely be called more than a wall of noise. Jin-Woo suddenly wished he could make his hearing less sensitive. 

‘Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

‘Teach us something please,

‘Whether we be old and bald

‘Or young with scabby knees,

‘Our heads could do with filling

‘With some interesting stuff,

‘For now they’re bare and full of air,

‘Dead flies and bits of fluff,

‘So teach us things worth knowing,

‘Bring back what we’ve forgot,

‘Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

‘And learn until our brains all rot.’

The song was finished at different times by different people, and gradually the pain in his ears lessened. Eventually, he was left with a dull throbbing headache that pulsed in time with the rhythm of the two red-headed boys from the Gryffindor table, singing along to a funeral march.

The hall erupted into clapping once the pair finished, although the sound seemed more from relief than any enthusiasm at the performance. After a few moments of applause, the old man raised his hands once more. Silence reigned immediately.

“Ah, music,” he said, a ridiculously pleased smile on his face, “a magic beyond all we do here!”

If that was magic, then I’d hate to see what the rest of this world’s spells are like.

“And now,” the old man continued, oblivious to the rolled eyes and dark looks from older students, “bedtime. Off you trot!”

There was a sudden cacophony of noise as benches scraped against the floor, students pushing to their feet in a rush to leave. Over it all, he heard voices calling and turned to the nearest one, seeing two older students standing at the head of the Hufflepuff table with their arms raised.

“Everyone, please,” one of them called, a boy around fifteen or sixteen with fluffy-looking hair in a midtone somewhere between brown and blond. He had soft, warm-looking orange magic that bled into a soft pink at the edges, and bright hazel eyes. “Could we have your attention for a moment!”

The Hufflepuff table fell still, an island of quiet in the bustle of the hall, and the pair’s next words carried more easily than before.

“As the older students will know, we’re about to head down to our House’s dormitories,” the girl said. Her shiny, curly black-brown hair bounced as she lowered her arms. “Once there, you will be divided by gender, and put into rooms with a group of other students based on your year level. We ask that you all try to get along with each other, as this will likely be the group of students you will be rooming with for the entirety of your time here. Mark and I will explain more when we get to the dormitories, but for now, I would like the first-years to follow us.”

There was a murmur of assent from the other students, and then the two older years were turning and leading the cohort out of the hall, down several flights of stairs and several long hallways, before finally halting before a rack of barrels. Turning to the wall on the left, which held a truly enormous replica of a barrel on a wooden stand, the male upper-year - Mark, the girl had called him - flipped the lever at the top of the spout while saying ‘Hearth’ in a clear voice.

The tap on the barrel retracted into the wood, and then the boards making up the visible face began to fold back, revealing the inside to be completely hollow, and the end against the wall was not an end at all, but a portal into an enormous room. Mark and his female counterpart led them all through, and Jin-Woo heard the barrel seal up behind the last student as they climbed through into the room. Once everyone was through, the older students all dispersed, chattering amongst themselves as they filtered through various doors around the outskirts of the room.

Jin-Woo took the chance to look around. The room was spacious, with warm, cream-coloured stone walls and soft-lit hanging lights dotted around. Potted plants were everywhere, in holders on the walls, by plush couches and hanging from the ceiling. The entire room was quite cosy, and despite the stone surrounds, pleasantly warm. Further inspection of the room was cut short as Mark began speaking again.

“Welcome, all of you, to Hufflepuff. I’m Mark Twayne, and this is Tracey Silver, and we’re the Prefects for Hufflepuff House this year. I’m sure you’re all tired and a little overwhelmed by now, so we’ll keep this brief. Several of the older years host study groups on Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner and there are always students in the common room, so if you’re struggling with your work, please just ask for help. There are announcements on the board to your left, updated every Monday or as urgent notices come out, and there will be sign-ups for various clubs posted there in the coming weeks.”

Mark and Tracey shared a glance and chuckled as several students yawned widely, and then Tracey stepped forward with a soft laugh.

“I see we’ve kept you up long enough. Right then, boys, your dormitory is to the left, first door in, girls, same to you on the right. Your trunks are already at the foot of your bed, so there’s no need to go collect them. Have a good night!” The pair split up to guide their respective gender groups to their dorms, and then Jin-Woo found himself inside a spacious room with four large beds and soft candlelight suffusing the area. Each bed had a trunk at the foot, and a small lamp and bedside table along with a dresser up against the back wall. Wandering around, he found his trunk in the middle on the left, while the middle bed on the right went to a boy named Ernest (“call me Ernie,”) Macmillan.

The other two beds went to a Justin Finch-Fletchley and a Wayne Hopkins. There was little chatter between them as they all got ready for bed, and by the time the rest of the boys had fallen asleep, Jin-Woo was struggling to keep his eyes open.

The shadows swirled around him, deep and endless and so, so warm. He felt he could lay there forever, drifting in this dark well of power and warmth and comfort, but something yanked in his gut, and then he was falling, falling, falling down through a dark, cold tunnel of stone towards cold, dark rushing water hundreds of meters below.

 He tried to call out, tried to bring forth Kaisel, to stop himself, catch himself, anything. But there was nothing. The water was closing in, and the temperature plummeted further with every meter he fell, until he slammed into the surface and sank. Down, down, down into the freezing, lifeless, lightless depths. But the darkness was not empty. Not wholly.

Out of the gloom, a figure drifted forward. Enormous, wrapped in darkness and with scales the colour of which he couldn’t make out, it towered over him, eyes like pale lamps staring down at him, and never in his life had he felt so small. That damned statue had nothing on whatever this was, the tip of its nose easily twice its height and even broader. The head was vaguely serpentine, but entirely foreign all at once. He felt, drifting there in the lightless depths of that deep water, that he should know it.

He comes, echoed a voice. It was an ancient thing, deep and gravelly and felt more than heard. It shook him to his very core, and he felt all the smaller for it.

He comes, it said again, for he saw nothing but himself and the creature nearby, and if it was not the creature then he dreaded what it might be. And his arrival shall bring about the End. He comes.

The creature surged forwards suddenly, mouth gaping wide, wide, impossibly wide, and as its shadow eclipsed him, he jolted up in bed, heart racing and body trembling like he had just run a marathon.

What . . . was that, he thought, hand pressing to his chest in an attempt to slow his racing heart and heaving breaths. He didn’t dream. Hadn’t, since that first Double Dungeon. So why now? He couldn’t think of a reason, and eventually decided he was doing nothing by trying to find answers with what he had. Deciding he was calm enough, he lay back and closed his eyes once more.