Hogwarts: Dyroth Grindelwald Rise From Nurmengard

[false_truth]

[A Harry Potter Fanfiction]

Dyroth believed he had been reborn into a new life, intending to use his past life memories to achieve wealth and power. However, everything changed.

It was then he discovered the truth—he hadn't just been reborn, but Travelled into the world of Harry Potter as the last orphan of the infamous Grindelwald family.

With years of preparation and a powerful system at his disposal, Dyroth has honed his talents to their peak. Now, as the adopted son of Gellert Grindelwald, he is ready to take on his father's legacy and rally the Saints once more.

But first, he must deliver a speech that will shake the world from the heart of Nurmengard…

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Original raw: 第三代黑魔王来自霍格沃茨

 

[false_truth]

1991, July, Austria.


A large old villa stood by Lake Mond. Its blue-black walls and detailed carvings told stories of its long history.


Sunlight streamed through a window, lighting up the face of a young man with blond hair and blue eyes. He held a strange book in one hand that gave off a blue and black mist, and in his other hand was a wand with unusual ridges.


As a flash of green light flickered, a smile spread across his face.


[Congratulations to the host for mastering black magic: the Imperius Curse, and obtaining the achievement: Candidate for Azkaban.]
[Achievement point reward: 100.]


"System, check the talent panel!" The young man's clear voice rang out. The next second, a virtual data panel materialized before his eyes.


[Charms: 100]


[Potion Science: 100]


[Black Magic: 99]


[Transfiguration: 100]


[Alchemy: 100]


[Divination: 100]


[Current remaining points: 112 (Achievement points can be used to redeem talents or for a random draw. Talents above 95 points require 100 points each.)]


[Points can be earned by achieving accomplishments or completing system tasks.]


Hearing the system prompt, the young man sighed in relief. "After six years... I'm finally about to max out my talent points!"


This young man's name was Dyroth, Dyroth Grindelwald.


Strictly speaking, Dyroth didn't come from this world. He had been just a baby when he traveled to this world and was abandoned outside an orphanage.


At first, he thought he had merely been reborn, but when his magical powers surged on his fifth birthday, activating the system, the Saints found him and brought him to Gellert Grindelwald.


Only then did Dyroth realize the truth: he hadn't just traveled to the world of Harry Potter, but had also become the last orphan of the infamous Grindelwald family.


In his previous life, Dyroth had been captivated by the wonders of the magical world and its amazing spells. However, once he became part of it, he swiftly understood that the truth was far grimmer than the fantasy—especially as a descendant of Grindelwald.


The Ministry of Magic, the Saints, the International Confederation of Wizards—all eyes were on him. If not for the fear of Gellert's wrath, Dyroth would have faced death countless times.


Unlike many time-traveling protagonists, Dyroth didn't rush to show off his knowledge or power. Instead, he kept a low profile, quietly accumulating points through various means—until today.


"System, exchange for Black Magic talent!"


[Added successfully. Host's Black Magic: 100.]


Just as he added the points, another notification appeared.


[The host's talents are maxed out. Achievement unlocked: Future Master of Dark Magic.]


[Achievement unlocked: Perfect Magic Genius.]


[Achievement point reward: 200.]


"It's time to make a move. But before that… let's complete my first-ever lottery draw."


Opening the lottery interface, Dyroth watched as countless card packs floated in front of him. He selected two at random, and after a flash of white light.


[Congratulations! You've received: Magic Curse - Legilimency (Level 2).]
[Congratulations! You've received: Black Magic - Fiendfyre (Level 3).]


"Legilimency and Fiendfyre, huh?" Dyroth smirked. "These could be useful..."


...


Outside the room, A loud footsteps echoed.


An elegant woman in a dark green robe approached. Vinda Rosier, known as the Black Rose of France, was celebrated for her beauty and formidable strength. Ageless in her grace, she possessed jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a regal demeanor that had captivated many. Her true power, however, lay in her formidable magic. Even at over ninety years old, she maintained the youthful appearance and poise that had enchanted all who met her.


"What is it, Aunt Vinda?" Dyroth lowered his wand and looked at her.


Vinda Rosier's expression was laced with concern. "Dyroth, you've forgotten—it's your eleventh birthday today!"


"My birthday?" Dyroth blinked in surprise.


When Grindelwald adopted Dyroth, he announced to the Saints that on Dyroth's eleventh birthday, he would assume leadership of their group. However, in recent years, Dyroth's low-profile demeanor had led many among the Saints to mock his lack of ambition.


Now, the day had arrived, and it was evident that the Saints were reluctant to accept Dyroth as Gellert's successor. Despite being Grindelwald's adopted son, their loyalty had always been to Gellert himself. In their hearts, only Gellert was fit to lead them toward the "Greater Good."


Some saw Dyroth as too young, while others simply held a personal dislike for him.


Sensing the tension, Dyroth's expression turned serious. "Aunt Vinda, you have something you want to say, don't you?"


Vinda sighed deeply. "Abernethy and I have discussed it. The Saints are divided, and they don't view you favorably. Reuniting them won't be easy."


"You're suggesting I should give up, aren't you, Aunt Vinda?" Dyroth interrupted. "I understand you mean well, but I refuse to back down."


Vinda's face went rigid, surprised by his determined response.


"I am a Grindelwald by blood. You and Gellert personally trained me. The unfinished cause you both entrusted to me rests on my shoulders."


Dyroth stood tall, his voice firm. "If I retreat now, I will not only lose the faith of the Saints but my own resolve. I will never have another chance to claim my rightful place."


Vinda hesitated before speaking slowly. "But you realize that this gathering will attract attention. The Ministry of Magic won't miss this chance to strike. I fear for—"


"Trust me, Aunt Vinda." Dyroth's confident smile cut her off, his gaze unwavering. "Even a bird must leave its nest someday. And if I can't handle this challenge, how could I face even greater ones?"


After a long silence, Vinda Rosier looked at the young man. In that moment, the lines between past and present blurred. His blond hair, his confidence, his undeniable talent—it was as if Gellert himself stood before her once more, a young revolutionary ready to set the world ablaze.


When she finally spoke again, her voice was softer. "Don't let me down, little Grindelwald."


Outside, in the distance, black flags fluttered in the wind.


An elegant smile crossed Dyroth's face as he placed a hand over his heart and bowed.


"For the Greater Good."

 

[false_truth]

(Azkaban is the prison owned by the ministry of magic to hold their prisoners which is guarded by dementors.


Nurmengard is the prison that Gellert Grindelwald built to hold his captives but served as his own imprisonment after his defeat in 1945)


....


Nurmengard


Hundreds of Saints gathered in the square, and more were arriving. Despite the large crowd, it was mostly quiet, with only a few whispers here and there. Everyone was waiting for the young man who would decide the future of the Saints.


"The Saints are almost all here, and some Aurors have arrived as well. Are you sure you don't want to meet your father first, Dyroth?" asked an old man behind him.


Dyroth smiled. "Uncle Abernethy, the test began the moment I stepped into Nurmengard."


"Let's go, it's time to meet your old friends!"


With a wave of his wand, the castle gates slowly opened.


Vinda said nothing and silently followed Dyroth, while Abernethy, still worried, hesitated before following too.


When Dyroth appeared, the crowd was silent. Unlike the excitement that surrounded Grindelwald in the past, the Saints' expressions were cold, and some even looked impatient.


"Director, should we arrest him now?" a young Auror asked a middle-aged man.


"Not yet. Let's see what happens first. Don't forget, we're in Nurmengard! No one wants trouble with the man in the tower."


"It's just a kid, though," a blond Auror scoffed. "He's only eleven. What can he possibly do? Grindelwald must be out of his mind, letting a child take over."


The middle-aged Auror kept his serious gaze on Dyroth. "Let's hope it's that simple."


Dyroth walked to the center of the square, brushed his wand over his chest, and gave a slight bow.


"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming today."


He scanned the crowd—the once-mighty Saints now reduced to a few hundred, many old or frail. But Dyroth didn't feel discouraged. After a brief pause, he continued:


"I know why you're here. You still believe in your dreams, your beliefs, and your goals. Many claim we've harmed the wizarding world."


He paused dramatically before declaring, "Nonsense! They're just ignorant fools."


The crowd murmured in agreement, some cursing in frustration.


Dyroth raised his hand, quieting the crowd. "Grindelwald gave the world a warning and was imprisoned for it. Some think I should harbor resentment towards those who locked him away."


"But the truth is, I don't hate them. I don't hate anyone."


Surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd.


"I want peace between us and them, but we won't compromise on our beliefs. We're not driven by hate; they just see things differently from us. That's all."


Many in the crowd were older members who had fought alongside Grindelwald. Seeing Dyroth, they were reminded of the man they once followed without question.


An elderly man, tears blurring his vision, called out, "Grindelwald…"


Dyroth noticed him, but before anything could happen, the man was pulled back by a friend.


Turning to Vinda Rosier, Dyroth nodded. She handed him a skull-shaped pouch.


"I don't possess the same prophetic powers as my father, Gellert Grindelwald, but I can still show you something."


Dyroth took a deep breath from the pipe inside the pouch and exhaled, filling the square with smoke.


In the swirling mist, images of tanks, planes, and missiles appeared, followed by the horrifying explosion of a nuclear bomb. The Saints gasped, realizing the might of Muggle technology.


"Could magic stand up to this?" some murmured, fear in their voices.


The smoke shifted to show space shuttles, satellites, and other advanced Muggle technologies. The image zoomed out to reveal the entire planet, eventually showing a bird's-eye view of the Saints in the square.


As the smoke cleared, Dyroth spoke again. "As you can see, Muggle power is no longer something we can ignore. My father was right all along."


"The truth is understood by only a few," Dyroth continued, his voice resolute. "We are not wrong—the world is!"


The crowd erupted in applause. Many older Saints wept, feeling that their years of struggle and hardship had not been in vain.


Dyroth smiled confidently at the crowd. "Muggle weapons will soon be aimed at us! I ask you all—are you willing to hide like the Ministry of Magic?"


"I'm not!" came a few scattered replies.


"Are you willing to live under the fear of Muggles?"


"I'm not!" More voices joined in, louder.


"Are you willing to let your friends and family become slaves to Muggles?"


"I'm not! I'm not!" The crowd roared in unison.


Even a young Auror in the back accidentally joined in, only to lower his head in shame when his superior glared at him.


But it was too late. The entire square had erupted into passionate chants of "I'm not!"


Many older Saints were crying openly now, their spirits rekindled by Dyroth's words.


The new leader of the Saints had arrived.


Dyroth raised his hand, and the square fell silent once more. "After today, many will die. But if you see my body fall, don't mourn me. Keep fighting! We are the ones who will save the wizarding world. Everything we do is for the Greater Good!"


"For the Greater Good!" the crowd chanted back, their passion rising.


Even some of the older Saints, men and women in their seventies and eighties, looked as energized as they had in their youth.


In the distance, one of the Aurors looked conflicted. "Rocas, are we… are we really wrong?"


Before Rocas could answer, the Auror lowered his wand.


"Wake up!" Rocas grabbed his colleague's shoulders and shook him. "What are you doing?"


"He's right, Rocas. He's right…" the Auror mumbled, dazed, and started walking toward the stage where Dyroth stood.


"How could this be?" Rocas whispered in disbelief.


With a pained expression, Rocas raised his wand and pointed it at the Auror. "You've left me no choice."


"Avada Kedavra!"

 

[false_truth]

...


Nurmengard


The moment the Auror's body hit the ground, shock rippled through the crowd.


Panic spread among the Aurors, and the Auror Director's face twisted in fear. He couldn't let Dyroth continue speaking, dreading the impact of his words on the morale of his men.


His spell was like a signal.


Several streaks of green light shot from all directions across the square, all aimed at Dyroth.


Yet, Dyroth remained unfazed, a confident smile playing on his lips. The two powerful wizards beside him, Vinda Rosier and Abernethy, were more than capable of handling such attacks.


The moment the green lights appeared, Dyroth's defenders conjured thick stone walls, which absorbed and shattered the Killing Curses effortlessly.


Before the Saints could react, a faction of young Aurors turned against their superiors, disarming and binding them with swift, decisive spells.


"Expelliarmus!"


"Petrificus Totalus!"


"Stupefy!"


Within seconds, the rebellious Aurors were subdued, their wands taken and their movements restricted.


Vinda Rosier, wand raised and green light flickering at its tip, prepared to deliver a fatal blow. But Dyroth intervened.


"Wait, Aunt Vinda!"


He gently pushed her wand aside and approached the captured Auror, who glared at him with seething anger.


"Isn't it enough that you've killed so many of our comrades over the years? Why must you slaughter us all?" Dyroth's voice was calm, almost sorrowful.


"My father is imprisoned, and now you won't even spare an eleven-year-old child!" Dyroth continued, his tone steady.


"Bah! Just like your father, you're a devil, spreading lies and corrupting hearts! You'll be the root of the wizarding world's destruction!" The Auror's voice was filled with venom.


Dyroth didn't show any signs of anger. Instead, his expression softened, a flicker of blue light gleaming in his eyes.


"We've never been enemies. We share the same identity, the same goal."


"What we should be doing is—"


"Avada Kedavra!"


The Auror Director, having hidden a wand, launched a surprise attack as Dyroth neared.


"Dyroth!" Vinda Rosier's face contorted with panic as she rushed toward him.


But Dyroth's lips curled into a knowing smile, as if he had anticipated the move. He sidestepped the curse effortlessly.


"Sir, you seem to have forgotten that while my ability to foresee isn't quite on my father's level, I'm still quite adept."


Dyroth twirled his wand gracefully and danced across the battlefield.


"Protego Diabolica!"


Blue flames erupted around him, encircling the square. Though not as grand as Grindelwald's legendary spell, it was impressive enough to captivate the Saints.


Even Vinda Rosier, who had watched Dyroth's growth, couldn't hide her admiration.


"Protego Diabolica... incredible," Abernethy whispered in awe behind Dyroth.


Dyroth chuckled, then turned to address the Saints.


"Everyone, the moment has arrived. Cross these flames and shatter the illusions of those who are still asleep!"


"Go, fight for the Greater Good!"


"Go, and declare to the wizarding world that the Saints have returned!"


Vinda Rosier smiled at Dyroth, her confidence evident as she strode into the flames. Abernethy followed, his eyes alight with fervor.


"For the Greater Good!" he shouted.


One by one, the Saints stepped into the flames before Apparating away.


As the last of the Saints vanished, Dyroth heard a notification in his mind:


[Congratulations to the host for taking control of the Saints Group and obtaining the achievement: Successor of the Dark Lord]


[Achievement point reward: 500]


"500 points... enough for five consecutive draws!" Dyroth thought. "I'll find a quiet place later to decide how best to use them."


With everyone gone, only Dyroth, Vinda, and Abernethy remained. Vinda gestured toward the captured Aurors at her feet.


"What should we do with these Aurors?"


Without looking at them, Dyroth waved his wand.


The blue flames surged forth, engulfing the Aurors instantly.


"Aurors? What Aurors?"


...


Inside Nurmengard Tower...


An old man with white hair and unusual eyes observed Dyroth with keen interest.


"Well done, little one."


"What's your next move? Do you plan to take down the Austrian Ministry of Magic?"


With Dyroth as his adopted son, Grindelwald seemed far more lively than the depressed figure from the original timeline. Though confined within Nurmengard, his life was relatively comfortable, his only restriction being his inability to leave.


Dyroth was taken aback by Grindelwald's suggestion.


"I'm not ready to throw my life away just yet! Taking over the Ministry of Magic now would be akin to declaring war."


"If it weren't for your old agreement, I wouldn't have made such a move. The smartest choice would have been to stay hidden until I've grown up fully."


Grindelwald spread his hands in helplessness. "I never expected you to pass the test set by those old fools."


"How about I send you to Durmstrang to lay low for a few years?"


"Forget it. I'd rather stay here in Nurmengard. At least here, the Ministry won't dare make a move." Dyroth shook his head.


"And as for what I'll do next... you already know."


"You plan to head to England?" Grindelwald guessed after a moment's contemplation.


"The German and Austrian Ministries of Magic have increased their surveillance on us. After today, they'll target the Saints even harder."


"Instead of battling a losing fight here, it's wiser to seek a new path in Britain."


"And..." Dyroth's lips curled into a sly smirk. "I might even drop by Hogwarts and give your frustrations a proper outlet."


"Imagine the students Dumbledore has so meticulously nurtured, one by one joining the Saints. Years of his effort, only to make our cause stronger..." Dyroth's voice dripped with temptation, and Grindelwald's eyes gleamed with amusement.


From the moment Dyroth acquired the system, he had decided to attend Hogwarts—not just for the development of the Saints, but also for the system's achievement rewards.


Between Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts, the latter held the key to so many opportunities. It was the location of Harry Potter, the protagonist, and the beginning of everything. The potential for achievement points there was beyond comparison.


Though Dyroth had great talent, he wasn't about to miss out on the system's bonuses.


"But you haven't received a Hogwarts acceptance letter," Grindelwald teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.


Dyroth wasn't fooled. He knew that the orphanage he had grown up in was in England, and today was his birthday. Hogwarts would definitely send a letter, carried by a large owl.


The only reason it hadn't arrived by now was clear...


It had been hidden by the old man in front of him!


Dyroth's suspicious gaze fell on Grindelwald, who grumbled and waved his hand. An owl emerged from behind him, flying over to Dyroth with a letter clutched in its beak.


"you even doubts me, your own father," Grindelwald muttered, "You're becoming quite unlovable, little Dyroth."


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

Dyroth picked up the Hogwarts admission letter and examined the envelope. The crest of a lion, badger, snake, and eagle greeted him, and despite having anticipated this moment, excitement still surged within him.


The letter outlined the necessary textbooks, items, and preparations for Hogwarts. Dyroth skimmed through it and handed it to Vinda.


"I'll arrange for everything on the list to be prepared."


"No," Dyroth declined softly, shaking his head.


"Some things are better handled in person. Besides, this gives me an opportunity to meet my future classmates at Diagon Alley."


Her brows furrowed slightly. "After this meeting, we won't have much time left. The German and Austrian Ministry of Magic are aware of the situation and will act soon."


"I know," Dyroth replied calmly. "Before the news spreads, instruct the Saints to sell all properties they have and abandon the ones that are too risky. Everyone must relocate to the UK by tonight."


"Understood!" Vinda affirmed, ready to act. "Shall we go now?"


Dyroth turned his gaze to Grindelwald, a fleeting sadness in his eyes.


"Old man, I will leave now. Who knows when we'll meet again..."


Grindelwald's laughter filled the room. "Hahaha... since when do you need to worry about me?"


"Never forget, I am Grindelwald!"


Despite his bold words, Dyroth could see Grindelwald's attempt to put him at ease. Though they hadn't spent years together as father and son, Dyroth felt he had become an important part of Grindelwald's life.


"Take care of yourself... Father."


Dyroth's voice carried the weight of their bond as he bowed deeply.


Then, without another word, he left with Vinda, leaving Grindelwald alone in the vast Nurmengard.


"Dumbledore, I am no longer alone," Grindelwald's voice echoed softly. "Dyroth, my successor, will carry on my will... our will... and continue forward."


...


That night, Dyroth and Vinda Rosier arrived in England.


"Aunt, how is our liquidation going?" Dyroth asked as they crossed into British territory.


"About 70% of the assets have been sold or transferred. Most of the people have already moved as well."


Dyroth sighed in relief. No one had been caught yet. The Saints had endured decades of suppression, and those who remained were the pillars of the future.


"Dyroth," Vinda began cautiously, "we have plenty of gold Galleons for now, but starting over in the UK will come with heavy costs. We need a solution, or our funds will be drained quickly."


Dyroth smiled confidently. "I've already prepared for this."


Through years of study, he had come to understand the intricacies of wizarding finances. The magical world still clung to outdated economic models, where pure-blood families hoarded gold and magical knowledge, much like landlords of old times.


It was time to introduce a more modern system, where the wizarding world would experience the forces of capitalism.


"As long as you have a plan, I'm not worried," she said, reassured by Dyroth's confidence.


"I've already selected a few properties here. Let's see if you like any of them," she added.


The two soon approached a luxurious manor, where two figures awaited at the entrance.


One was tall and regal, the other smaller but brimming with impatience. Before they even got close, Dyroth heard a complaint.


"Dad, why do we need to be here? Couldn't the house-elves take care of it? I'm supposed to be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow."


Dyroth quickly gathered who these two were. Between the aristocratic tone and the unmistakable shiny blonde hair, it was clear.


Draco Malfoy. And his father, Lucius.


Dyroth smiled to himself. "I was wondering how I would break into the pure-blood circles here, but it seems fortune has handed me the perfect opportunity."


He and Vinda approached as Lucius Malfoy frowned at his son.


Lucius, a master of maneuvering within the wizarding elite, had come in person upon learning someone wanted to buy this fine manor. The buyer had to be of significant standing—certainly a pure-blood family of long lineage.


This could be a valuable connection.


Unfortunately, his son was too preoccupied with Quidditch to grasp the importance of this moment.


"Hello, madam, it's a pleasure to meet you—" Lucius began politely, but his words froze as he saw Vinda Rosier's face.


Vinda Rosier.


The Black Rose of France.


Lucius's eyes widened in disbelief. Why was she here in England? What had he gotten himself into?


Sweat beaded on Lucius's forehead. He realized he had severely underestimated the importance of this meeting.


Vinda glanced at Lucius's blonde hair and the Malfoy family crest on his robes. "A Malfoy, I assume?"


"Y-Yes, Ms. Rosier," Lucius stammered, clearly rattled.


Draco, observing his father's uncharacteristically nervous behavior, was stunned. He had never seen his father act like this, not even in the presence of powerful figures like Minister Fudge.


What sort of people were these?


Recovering slightly, Lucius straightened and offered a stiff bow before introducing himself.


"I am Lucius Malfoy, and this is my son, Draco. He will be enrolling at Hogwarts soon."


"A new student at Hogwarts?" she observed, her gaze flicking to Draco with interest. She then turned to Dyroth.


"Dyroth, your future classmate."


At that, Draco's eyes lit up. He hurried over to Dyroth, enthusiasm in every step.


"Are you going to Hogwarts too? Do you play Quidditch? Do you have your own broomstick?"


"My father's going to buy me the latest Nimbus 2000 tomorrow in Diagon Alley," Draco boasted, his excitement overflowing.


"Draco," Lucius scolded softly, shooting a glance at Dyroth with an apologetic smile. "Forgive my son. He gets carried away."


"I haven't had the pleasure of learning your name..."


Dyroth returned Lucius's smile with grace.


"Dyroth," he said, pausing before adding, "Dyroth Grindelwald."

 

[false_truth]

The moment Dyroth said his name, he could clearly see Lucius's pupils contracting violently.


Lucius had never dreamed that the person who wanted to buy his own house today would be the heir of Grindelwald!


As a former Death Eater, he knew the strength of this Dark Lord too well. What was imprisoned in Nurmengard? A joke!


That was a living Dark Lord! As long as he wanted to, no one in this world could catch him, let alone imprison him! Even if the current Saints were not as powerful as before, as long as Gellert Grindelwald was still around, the Saints could make a comeback at any time!


"It turns out to be Mr. Grindelwald. Nice to meet you!" Lucius said, struggling to maintain his composure.


"Me too, Mr. Malfoy. Please show us the details of the manor."


Lucius's demeanor shifted dramatically, growing increasingly humble. Dyroth, recognizing the change, didn't press further and proceeded with the business at hand.


As they toured the manor, Draco's excitement was palpable. He bombarded Dyroth with questions about Hogwarts, Quidditch, and broomsticks.


At eleven, Draco was still a child, and having a peer who seemed to interact normally was a novelty. Most of his past interactions had been with sycophants or adults. This was a refreshing change for him.


"Mr. Grindelwald, how do you feel?" Lucius asked, his tone more deferential.


"Not bad. What do you think, Aunt?" Dyroth inquired, referring to Vinda.


The manor met Dyroth's needs. It was a place to stay, not a base, but it had decent decoration, ample space for magical practice, and was livable.


"If you think it's good, then let's make a deal. I've already brought the gold galleons and can sign the contract at any time," Vinda said, her business-like efficiency on full display.


Without hesitation, Vinda signed the magic contract with Lucius.


"It's getting late, so we won't disturb Mr. Dyroth's rest," Vinda said as they prepared to leave.


"Let's go, Draco!" Lucius called.


"Mr. Malfoy, please wait a moment," Dyroth said, noticing Draco's reluctance to leave.


He turned to the Malfoys with a smile. "I heard you're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. If you don't mind, Draco can stay with us tonight, and we can go together tomorrow."


Draco's eyes lit up. He looked up at Lucius, shaking his arm with a pleading expression.


Lucius hesitated but, seeing Draco's eager eyes, he eventually agreed. "Then please take care of him."


"Draco, remember to come back early after shopping, so as not to cause trouble to Ms. Vinda."


"Got it, Dad!" Draco said, beaming.


With Lucius's departure, Draco's excitement was uncontained. He engaged Dyroth in conversation until late into the night, thoroughly enjoying his newfound playmate.


Vinda watched with a smile. "This is the first time I've seen you spend so much time with your peers."


"What? You think the young master of the Malfoy family is quite to your liking?" Dyroth said with a smirk.


"I don't have such a hobby," he continued. "He's here to help us integrate into the British pure-blood circles."


"Although the Malfoy family has a tarnished reputation, they hold high status among pure-blood families. Using them as a guide is a strategic choice."


"It's just that Lucius is so sharp, it's challenging to get anything out of him. But Draco is different. He's still young and inexperienced. He might not even realize he's being used."


...


After a brief discussion with Vinda about their plans for Diagon Alley, Dyroth said goodnight and retreated to his room.


It was late, and the manor was silent, save for the occasional gust of wind echoing through the halls.


Dyroth lay on his bed and opened the system lottery interface.


"Now is not the time to be a hoarder. Your talents are already full, so increasing your combat power is the priority!"


"System, conduct a lottery."


As he finished speaking, a swarm of card packs emerged, swirling around Dyroth.


"It looks similar to Hearthstone," Dyroth mused.


He selected five at random. A burst of dazzling golden light accompanied the prompts that followed:


[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Reductor (Level 3)]


[Congratulations to the host for getting: Orbis (Level 2)]


[Congratulations to the host for getting: Incendio (Level 2)]


[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Charm (Level 1)]


[Congratulations to the host for receiving the golden reward: Occlumency (Level 7)]


[Current remaining achievement points: 200]


[It is detected that the host has mastered some magic spells. Do you want to choose fusion?]


"Merge!"


Waves of magical knowledge surged into his mind, forcibly integrating and refining the spells.


"High talent is truly advantageous! It seems enhancing talent before drawing the lottery was the right approach!" Dyroth thought.


After the fusion, Dyroth realized that the spell rewards and fusion were not just about adding levels. They were about gaining experience!


For instance, Incendio (Blazing Flame): his original mastery was Level 2. The Level 2 fusion didn't directly upgrade it to Level 4. Instead, it infused his understanding with additional experience, refining the spell based on his grasp of it.


"If the levels were simply added up, improving the spell would be too easy. Reaching the full level would be a breeze."


"Unfortunately, the system's golden judgment is based on the spell's level, not its strength. Only levels above seven are golden."


"Fortunately, this time turned out well. If I had received something like Tarantallegra (Dancing Feet Spell), I'd have nowhere to cry."


Dyroth was pleased with the Occlumency he acquired. Though not directly combat-oriented, mastering Occlumency was crucial against Legilimens like Dumbledore or Voldemort. It would be invaluable in future magical confrontations, helping him resist Legilimency and read opponents' intentions.


For Dyroth, who urgently needed to convert his talent into combat power, this was a highly effective acquisition.


...


The next morning.


"Dyroth, I just got the news. Last night, the German and Austrian Ministry of Magic acted fast to catch us off guard. Fortunately, we responded quickly and evacuated everyone in advance under your orders."


"Today's Daily Prophet is full of reports about your deeds last night. It also mentions that many Aurors were brutally killed."


Dyroth, who had just woken up, yawned and chuckled at Vinda's words.


"If there is no evidence, let them say whatever they want. There's no way the British Ministry of Magic will arrest me in Azkaban just because of a few accusations."


"Besides, I'm just an eleven-year-old child. Who would believe that I killed more than a dozen Aurors?"


Dyroth had anticipated the Ministry of Magic's actions. That's why he had ordered everyone to move to England quickly.


Moreover, Britain was Dumbledore's territory. Given Dumbledore's nature, as long as he remained uncaught, even if someone took him to court, he would be acquitted.


Although many in his previous life felt that Dumbledore was self-righteous and sometimes used moral manipulation, Dyroth saw this aspect of Dumbledore as an opportunity.


Although some found Dumbledore self-righteous and manipulative, Dyroth saw this as an opportunity.


"A gentleman can be deceived!"


If Dumbledore were truly inflexible and boundary-less, it would be a much tougher situation.


At that moment, Draco walked downstairs, rubbing his sleepy eyes, ending their conversation.


Dyroth smiled at Draco. "Pack up. Let's get ready to go to Diagon Alley!"


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

Diagon Alley.


Vinda Rosier appeared out of thin air with Dyroth and Draco by her side.


[Congratulations to the host for entering Diagon Alley and obtaining the achievement: Explore Diagon Alley]


[Achievement point reward: 100]


Before Dyroth could fully appreciate his new achievement, he noticed Draco nearby, clutching the wall and retching.


"Ugh!"


"Is this your first time Apparating?" Dyroth asked, his expression tinged with curiosity.


"How could you even suggest that!" Draco's face twisted in defiance, attempting to stand tall, but another wave of nausea hit him, forcing him back down to vomit again.


After two or three minutes, Draco finally regained his composure.


Just as Dyroth prepared to venture into Diagon Alley with Draco, his gaze lingered on several suspicious figures lurking within the crowd.


"Aurors?" Dyroth pondered. "Or maybe someone from the pure-blood families?"


He exchanged a glance with Vinda, who gave him a subtle nod, acknowledging that she too had sensed their presence.


"Dyroth, go buy the things you need for Hogwarts first," she said quietly, her tone cool as she subtly pulled her wand from her sleeve. "I need to take care of something."


Dyroth understood. "Alright, Aunt Vinda, you go handle your business. I'll take Draco shopping and we'll catch up with you later."


Turning to Draco, Dyroth smiled. "Let's head to Ollivanders."


The two boys made their way through the bustling streets toward the small wand shop, its weathered door creaking as they stepped inside. The shop was cluttered with piles of wands, stacked high to the ceiling. Despite the chaotic appearance, it radiated an air of significance—this was, after all, where many of history's greatest wizards had found their wands.


"Ah, two young wizards! Welcome!" A cheerful, raspy voice called out from behind a tower of boxes. An old man with wild white hair emerged, wearing a long, brown robe.


"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," Dyroth greeted, showing respect to the legendary wandmaker.


Ollivander's sharp eyes immediately fell on Draco, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Ah, yes. Platinum blond hair, that unmistakable Malfoy lineage. I remember when your father came here—elm and dragon heartstring, wasn't it? Time certainly flies."


Draco, now composed, gave a proud nod but said nothing.


Then Ollivander turned to Dyroth, his gaze narrowing with curiosity. "And you, my boy? I don't recognize your features among the British pure-blood families…"


"Just call me Dyroth," he replied, maintaining a calm and reserved demeanor.


Sensing that Dyroth wasn't inclined to reveal more, Ollivander didn't press. Instead, he moved straight to business. "Very well. Which is your wand hand, Dyroth?"


"There's no need," Dyroth said, pulling out his wand and handing it to the old man. "I already have one."


Ollivander's eyes widened as he held the wand. "Merlin's beard…" he whispered in awe. "Elder wood… and—by God, a core I've never encountered before! What…?"


"It's qilin nerve," Dyroth explained smoothly. "A magical creature from the Far East."


"Qilin…" Ollivander echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. The significance of such a rare and powerful material wasn't lost on him. The last known sighting of a qilin was during the legendary duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald.


Ollivander hesitated, then asked with a piercing gaze, "Are you from the Dumbledore family?"


Dyroth felt a wave of irritation at the thought. Me? From that old bee family? The idea was absurd, but he kept his expression neutral.


"No, Mr. Ollivander," Dyroth said, his voice smooth yet firm. "Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Dyroth Grindelwald."


The name struck Ollivander like a thunderclap. His eyes widened in shock as he processed it. The memory of Gellert Grindelwald's rise and fall rushed back to him. For a moment, he seemed to lose himself in the past.


Dyroth, sensing the tension, gave a polite nod. "Now, how about helping Draco find a wand?"


Ollivander blinked and regained his composure, moving toward Draco with a measuring tape. "Which is your wand hand, young Malfoy?"


"My right."


"Try this—nine and a half inches, redwood, with dragon heartstring. Much like your father's."


Draco gave the wand a wave, and the shop's window exploded in a flash of light.


"Hmm… that won't do," Ollivander muttered, shaking his head. "You're not exactly like your father, after all." He disappeared behind the shelves, then returned with another wand. "Try this—ten inches, hawthorn, with unicorn tail hair."


Draco gave the new wand a flick, and the shattered window repaired itself instantly.


Draco's eyes lit up. "This is it!"


"That'll be seven Galleons," Ollivander said with a smile.


...


As they left the shop, Dyroth smirked. Ollivander didn't even say his classic line about picky customers. What a shame.


Draco, now in a much better mood, tugged at Dyroth's arm. "Let's go to Madam Malkin's for robes, then to Twilfitt and Tattings for dress robes. Madam Malkin's is too common. If Hogwarts didn't have to cater to Muggle-born students, I'd never…"


They soon reached Madam Malkin's, where several young wizards were already trying on robes.


"Hello! Are you two here for your Hogwarts robes?" asked a plump witch in a bright purple dress.


"Yes, Madam Malkin," Dyroth replied with a polite smile. "We'll need Hogwarts uniforms."


"Of course, dear, right this way." She waved her wand, and the measuring tape flew out, quickly measuring both boys and fitting them for their robes.


Dyroth grew a little restless as they stood in place. "Madam, how long will this take?" He was already thinking about the other items they needed, like cauldrons and books.


At that moment, the bell above the shop door jingled.


Jingle!


Dyroth glanced over and saw a thin, timid boy enter, looking overwhelmed. His clothes hung loosely on his frail frame, and behind him stood a towering figure, his face nearly hidden beneath a wild, bushy beard.


Dyroth's eyes narrowed.


Could it be...?


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

It Seems Like Fate


The moment Harry Potter walked in, Draco turned around.


The two boys locked eyes.


A fateful encounter!


Dyroth couldn't help but sigh inwardly.


Sure enough, Draco and Harry were about to cross paths. What was Ginny doing in all this? Just a third party, perhaps?


[Congratulations to the host for meeting Harry Potter and obtaining the achievement: Encounter with the Savior]


[Achievement point reward: 50]


"Meeting Harry Potter is enough to unlock an achievement?" Dyroth mused. The Hogwarts experience was already proving intriguing.


Before Harry could speak, Madam Malkin smiled warmly. "Are you here for Hogwarts robes? We have plenty in stock, and these two boys are just trying some on."


At that moment, Harry, burdened by the shadow of the Dursleys, exuded an air of timidity.


After being measured for his robes, Harry silently approached Draco and Dyroth.


"Are you a new student at Hogwarts too?" Draco asked, curiosity piqued.


"Yes, I am," Harry replied quietly.


"Do you have your own broomstick? Have you ever played Quidditch?" Draco continued without missing a beat. "Do you know which house you'll be sorted into? I'll definitely be in Slytherin!"


"My father says—"


"Draco!" Dyroth interrupted, noticing Harry's discomfort.


He offered Harry a gentle, apologetic smile. "Sorry, Draco's a bit too excited today. I apologize on his behalf."


"It's alright," Harry responded quietly.


Dyroth's polite demeanor immediately bridged the gap between them. While Draco appeared haughty, Dyroth seemed refined and considerate. More importantly, unlike others who stared at Harry like he was a rare specimen, Dyroth treated him like an ordinary person.


"My name is Dyroth Grindelwald, and this is Draco Malfoy," Dyroth introduced himself calmly.


"Harry Potter. Just call me Harry," Harry replied.


"The Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived!" Draco exclaimed, his voice carrying across the shop.


Harry's face clouded with embarrassment at the unwanted attention.


Outside the shop, Hagrid, alerted by the commotion, hurried in.


"What's goin' on, Harry?" Hagrid asked, concern etched on his face.


"It's fine, Hagrid. I'm just chatting with my new friends."


Hagrid smiled broadly at the two boys. "Your friends, Harry?"


"Yes, these are my friends."


"Well then, hello there, young wizards!" Hagrid greeted them with a wave.


"Hello, Mr. Hagrid," Dyroth said with a slight bow. "I've heard of you—Hogwarts' expert on magical creatures."


Dyroth had a favorable impression of Hagrid. After all, who could dislike a kind-hearted giant who was an unknowing, generous benefactor of future events?


Hagrid, noticing Harry's admiration for Dyroth, blushed slightly. "Oh, I'm jus' the gamekeeper. I like raisin' magical creatures, but I'm no expert."


"A gamekeeper? You're practically just a Hogwarts servant!" Draco chimed in, his pure-blood bias evident as he sneered at Hagrid's half-giant status.


The moment the words left Draco's mouth, Harry's expression darkened, and Hagrid looked down, visibly uncomfortable.


"Hagrid, we'll come back for the robes later. Let's look at something else for now," Harry suggested, pulling Hagrid outside to avoid further embarrassment.


Draco's disdain for mixed-bloods was clear, and seeing his friends' respect for Hagrid only made his mockery more apparent.


Dyroth sighed inwardly.


"Draco, do you realize what you've just done?" he asked calmly.


"What do you mean?" Draco blinked, confused.


"Who is Hagrid to Harry?"


"Isn't he just a half-giant?" Draco replied, still not grasping the gravity of his words.


Dyroth's expression turned serious. "He's Harry's friend. Insulting your friend's companion in public—what does that say about your upbringing as the future heir of the Malfoy family?"


Draco fell silent, the weight of Dyroth's words sinking in. His pride, however, made it difficult for him to admit fault.


"I'm just speaking the truth! Hagrid's a half-giant, a—"


"Draco!" Dyroth cut in firmly. "Do you believe that being pure-blooded, from one of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Families, makes you inherently superior? Especially when dealing with mixed-bloods like Hagrid?"


"I... I didn't mean it like that..." Draco stammered, suddenly unsure.


"Listen to me, Draco," Dyroth said, meeting Draco's eyes with a steady gaze. "Pure blood doesn't make you superior. True nobility is not about lineage but about character."


Dyroth continued, seeing Draco's conflicted expression. "A noble heart shows kindness and tolerance, even to the humblest servant. It displays courage in the face of adversity. A true noble seeks knowledge, explores magic, and contributes to the wizarding world with their strength. That is what makes a wizard noble."


Draco fell into contemplative silence. At eleven, he hadn't yet been fully tainted by the prejudices of the older generation. There was still a sense of innocence and hope within him.


Dyroth placed a reassuring hand on Draco's shoulder. "Draco, you've had a good education and are the future heir of the Malfoy family. You're responsible not only for your family's honor but for the wizarding world as well. It's not shameful to make mistakes. What's truly sad is knowing you're wrong and refusing to change, only to regret it for the rest of your life. Do you understand?"


After a long pause, Draco looked up, eyes slightly red. "Dyroth, I... I'm sorry."


Dyroth shook his head with a small smile. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to."


Draco took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "Can you... come with me? I want to apologize to Harry and Hagrid, but... I'm scared."


Dyroth nodded reassuringly. "Don't worry. Harry and Hagrid aren't the types to hold grudges. As long as you're sincere, they'll forgive you."


Soon, Harry and Hagrid returned to Madam Malkin's.


Blushing with embarrassment, Draco approached Hagrid.


"Mr. Hagrid... I'm sorry," Draco muttered, his voice barely audible.


Hagrid looked puzzled. "Eh? What for?"


"I'm sorry, Mr. Hagrid. I shouldn't have insulted you or looked down on you because of your lineage. The true nobility of a wizard lies not in their bloodline, but in their heart."


Draco then turned to Harry. "And I apologize to you too, Harry. I shouldn't have disrespected your friend."


Hagrid's eyes widened in surprise. He had never heard such words from a pure-blood wizard before. Most pure-bloods wouldn't even apologize, let alone acknowledge his worth.


"You really mean what you said?" Hagrid asked, astonished.


"I didn't come up with those words," Draco admitted, glancing at Dyroth. "They're what Dyroth said to me earlier."


Hagrid's face broke into a broad smile. "Well, those are some mighty fine words!"


For Hagrid, who had faced discrimination all his life, Dyroth's words gave him hope for a more inclusive future in the wizarding world.


"You've got a good friend there, Draco!" Hagrid added, giving him a hearty pat on the back. "And don't worry, everyone makes mistakes. I don't mind, and I'm sure Harry doesn't either."


Harry smiled and nodded. Draco's shoulders relaxed, relieved.


Just then, Madam Malkin's cheerful voice cut through. "Your robes are ready, dears! Would you like to try them on?"


Dyroth shook his head. "No need, Madam Malkin. If your craftsmanship wasn't trustworthy, there wouldn't be a single robe in Britain worth wearing."


Madam Malkin chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment, dear!"


Thanks to Dyroth's charm, they even received a discount on their robes.


As they prepared to leave, Harry hesitated at the door, looking back at Dyroth. "We're friends, right?"


"Of course, Harry," Dyroth replied with his usual gentle smile.


"Then... can I write to you when I'm back home?"


"You're always welcome to," Dyroth said.


"And me!" Draco interjected. "I'll write to you too!"


After Harry and Hagrid left, Dyroth watched as the determined look returned to Draco's eyes.


Very good. The Malfoy family was now fully onboard. A ship that couldn't be sunk.

 

[false_truth]

(All chapters have been thoroughly edited, and moving forward, the quality will only improve. I'm committed to ensuring that past issues will not be repeated. Thank you for your patience and support as I can continue to enhance my work.)


.


...


After buying the cauldron, textbooks, owls, and other necessary items, Dyroth sent Draco to the fireplace and took the Floo back to Malfoy Manor.


(The Floo Network was a mode of wizarding transportation in which a witch or wizard traveled from one place to another using Floo powder and a fireplace. Many fireplaces were connected in the Floo Network, and the traveler needed only to speak the location of the desired fireplace clearly while standing in the emerald green flames.)


Dyroth arrived at the entrance of Diagon Alley, where Vinda Rosier was already waiting.


"Have you bought everything?" Vinda asked.


Dyroth raised his hand, gesturing to the suitcase in his pocket, which had been enhanced with the Traceless Stretching Charm.


"Everything's bought. I sent Draco back already," Dyroth replied.


"Who sent those Aurors?" Vinda's voice turned more serious.


"Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office at the British Ministry of Magic."


Dyroth's gaze hardened as he recalled details about Scrimgeour. Rufus Scrimgeour—a staunch hardliner dedicated to hunting dark wizards. In the original timeline, he became Minister of Magic after Fudge's resignation, only to meet a tragic end when Voldemort captured and tortured him for refusing to disclose Harry Potter's whereabouts. Despite his heroic stance, Scrimgeour's fate was a testament to his courage and the dangers he faced.


"It seems the Auror office head already sees us as dark wizards," Dyroth said with a faint smile.


"Being targeted by him could hinder our next steps," he added, his tone more cautious.


"Shall we send someone to deal with him?" Vinda suggested, her voice sharp.


"No." Dyroth shook his head. "If we kill a top official of the Ministry of Magic so soon after arriving in Britain, it'll cause panic. And it won't just be Aurors watching us after that."


Vinda, understanding the long-term implications, nodded. "But if Scrimgeour keeps his eyes on us, it'll be a huge problem for our future plans."


Dyroth thought for a moment, then his eyes gleamed with an idea. "We may not need to act ourselves. The British Ministry of Magic only found out about our transfer today. There's no way they could decide this quickly."


"So Scrimgeour acted on his own?" Vinda, sharp as always, followed his reasoning easily.


"Exactly. Inform Fudge, and hint that Scrimgeour has been keeping an eye on us without his knowledge. Someone will take care of Scrimgeour soon enough," Dyroth said, a playful smile appearing on his face. "Who wouldn't enjoy watching their dogs fight?"


He shifted topics. "I asked you to investigate the shops in Diagon Alley. What did you find?"


"The situation isn't great. The shops are tightly held by pure-blood families. Most of the key stores—potions, brooms—are already in their control, and those willing to sell are in bad locations," Vinda replied.


Dyroth chuckled. "Who said I wanted to buy a shop?"


Vinda looked confused. "Then why investigate them?"


"The goal is to understand the marketplace. One or two shops won't be enough to support the Saints. No, my goal is much bigger... I want to replace Diagon Alley," Dyroth declared, his eyes gleaming.


"Replace Diagon Alley?" Vinda was momentarily stunned.


Even she hadn't expected such an ambitious plan. She had thought they might squeeze out a few pure-blood families from the market. But to replace Diagon Alley? That was an entirely different level of ambition, one that meant cutting off a major lifeline for the pure-bloods.


"Dyroth, I know you want the Saints to thrive, but we've just arrived in the UK. We don't even have a solid foothold yet. If we rush into conflict with the pure-blood families…" Vinda trailed off, her concern evident.


"I'm calm, Aunt Vinda." Dyroth patted her hand reassuringly. "Replacing Diagon Alley is a long-term goal. It's not something that can be done overnight. The pure-blood families' resources are vast and far beyond what we can muster right now. But in time, step by step, we'll get there."


He paused, then added with a grin, "In the future, our reach will extend far beyond Diagon Alley. We'll be operating across the entire wizarding world!"


...


The Next Day, Ministry of Magic


Rufus Scrimgeour stood at the door of Cornelius Fudge's office, his face darkened by frustration.


Inside, Fudge's face was red with anger, his breathing heavy.


"This is outrageous! Moving a dozen Aurors without informing the Minister?!" Fudge shouted.


Scrimgeour, unfazed, countered, "They are Saints! A group of dark wizards! More than a dozen Aurors from the Austrian Ministry of Magic disappeared because of them!"


"An eleven-year-old killed that many Aurors? You believe that nonsense? I order you to call them off immediately!" Fudge roared. To him, Scrimgeour's actions were not just an attack on the Saints but a direct challenge to his authority.


"No! Even if the child didn't do it, the Saints are definitely involved!" Scrimgeour pressed on, undeterred.


"I'm the Minister of Magic!" Fudge shouted, slamming his hand on the desk.


With that single declaration, Scrimgeour knew he was defeated. Furious, he stormed out of the office, leaving a final warning behind.


"Fudge, you'll regret this!"


(So familiar???)


...


Late August


As time flew by, Dyroth continued his relentless pursuit of knowledge, mastering material far beyond his age. Having finished studying the fourth-year Hogwarts curriculum, he now worked through the Standard Book of Spells for fifth-year students.


In Malfoy Manor, Dyroth sat calmly reading a book, while Draco fidgeted next to him, clearly struggling to concentrate.


Lucius Malfoy, entering the room, couldn't help but sigh. The difference between these two boys was stark. In just a couple of months, Dyroth had gone from a complete outsider to a respected figure among pure-blood families, thanks to his charm and intelligence.


Meanwhile, Draco seemed easily led by Dyroth, unaware of just how far beyond him the boy was.


"Draco, your father is here," Dyroth said softly, closing his book.


Draco jumped up in relief, tossing aside his own book, ready to leave.


"Ahem!" Dyroth cleared his throat. "Draco, remember to finish the homework I assigned. I'll be checking it when school starts."


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


September 1st, King's Cross Station


The conductor rubbed his brow wearily. Every year on this day, he had to explain the same thing over and over again.


"Sorry, we really don't have Platform Nine and Three-Quarters here!"


Unfortunately, it didn't take long for the next person to ask the same question—always children, on the verge of adolescence.


And then there were the peculiar individuals who appeared at the station—people with behavior and attire that defied normal expectations. Just like the man in front of him: a solidly built figure in a floral dress, which made the conductor want to vomit.


Nearby, a girl with disheveled dark brown hair sighed. Before learning about the magical world, she'd have thought such people were eccentric performance artists. But Hermione Granger now realized these were wizards, utterly ignorant of Muggle customs.


"Wizards have a natural contempt for Muggles, and their arrogance means they rarely understand Muggle life," a gentle voice said behind her.


Hermione turned to see a boy smiling at her.


"Hello, my name is Dyroth Grindelwald, a new student at Hogwarts."


"Hermione Granger!" she responded, surprised.


Dyroth's smile widened. "You're a first-year at Hogwarts too, right?"


"Yes! But I've been searching for ages and still can't find Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. And the conductor doesn't seem to know anything about it!" Hermione said, looking distressed.


"Of course, the conductor doesn't know. You should ask the strange-looking people around us—they're wizards."


Hermione's eyes lit up. "Why didn't I think of that?"


"Don't worry. Come with me; I'll take you there."


Noticing the heavy box Hermione was dragging, Dyroth casually pulled out his wand. "Reducio!"


Instantly, the trunk shrank to the size of a matchbox. Dyroth picked it up and slipped it into Hermione's pocket, leaving her in awe.


"Let's go, or we'll be late."


He led her to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Hermione blinked in confusion, but before she could ask, Dyroth guided her through it.


They emerged onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. It wasn't until they were seated in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express that Hermione finally found her voice.


"Did you just use a shrinking spell? Isn't that something we learn later? I don't remember seeing it in the first-year textbooks."


Dyroth smiled. "You're right. The Shrinking Charm isn't taught until the second year, in the second semester. But if you'd like, I can teach you."


"Really?" Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly covered her mouth, embarrassed by her reaction.


Dyroth chuckled and took out his wand again, demonstrating the basics of the spell.


Not long after, two identical red-haired boys poked their heads into the compartment.


"Oi, George, looks like we interrupted a budding romance!" one teased.


"Nah, Fred, who'd have thought Ron ditched his brothers for new friends?" the other added with a grin.


Their clothes were slightly singed, suggesting recent mischief. Dyroth didn't need to guess—they were the infamous Weasley twins.


"Hermione and I met at the station. We were just discussing spells," Dyroth said. "If you're looking for seats, feel free to join us."


He opened the door wider and gave Hermione a reassuring smile.


"Oh, Merlin's socks! Are all the first-years this advanced now?" Fred said, feigning amazement as he sat across from Dyroth.


George plopped down next to Fred and pulled out a large stack of parchment. "Knock it off, Fred. We need to catch up on homework. Percy's watching us like a hawk."


"If we don't finish, McGonagall will have our heads," Fred muttered, pulling out a quill.


(A quill is a writing instrument made from a feather whose tip has been cut into a pointed shape. It was the standard writing instrument in the wizarding world, as opposed to pens and pencils in the Muggle world. They usually had to be dipped into ink.)


Hermione stared at the twins, slightly bewildered. Before today, her only close contact with the magical world had been Professor McGonagall and Dyroth—both of whom were refined and dignified.


But these two... well, they were something else entirely.


"George, have you finished your History of Magic homework? Let me copy it," Fred asked, rummaging through his bag.


"Just a minute," George replied, searching through his own things.


Hermione, watching them with disbelief, finally spoke up. "You know, it's wrong to copy each other's homework! You should do it yourselves."


"Another McGonagall!" George joked, but he didn't seem bothered by her words.


After helping Fred with his History of Magic essay, George turned his attention to Potions.


"Fred, where do we get whirling stones again?"


"From a dog's belly, I think? Can't remember."


"Just fill something in for now," Fred said dismissively.


Hermione's ears perked up. Unable to ignore the conversation, she couldn't resist.


"No, no! Whirling stones come from the stomach of a goat, not a dog!" she burst out.


"Really?" George asked, raising an eyebrow.


"Yes, they help with detoxification," Dyroth chimed in, confirming Hermione's statement.


George's eyes widened. "Mate, don't tell me you memorized the third-year Potions syllabus! That's supposed to be Snape's special torture."


"If you're talking about Chapter 3, Section 2 of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, then I'd say my memory's pretty accurate," Dyroth replied with a calm smile.


"Chapter 3, Section 2? Blimey, you memorized the whole book?" George gaped in disbelief.


Next to Dyroth, Hermione began to squirm uncomfortably. She had thought she was ahead by previewing some of her first-year material, but Dyroth was already familiar with third-year subjects!


"I wouldn't say I've memorized it, but I remember enough," Dyroth said.


"Savior! You're our savior!" Fred and George looked at Dyroth with mock reverence, pushing Hermione aside.


"Quick, help me out. What ingredients do we need for the Shrinking Solution?" Fred asked.


"Daisy roots, fig skins, caterpillars, a drop of leech juice, and mouse spleen," Dyroth rattled off.


"And what about wormwood?" George added.


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


After an hour of hard work, George and Fred, with the help of Dyroth Grindelwald, finally completed their homework. The twins threw their arms around Dyroth's neck, grinning widely.


"Mate, from today, you're our honorary brother!" Fred declared, his voice full of enthusiasm.


"And I'm sure you'll be a perfect Ravenclaw!" George added.


Hermione, who had been helping as well, resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If not for Dyroth's assistance, she would have left the carriage ages ago.


"I think I'm more likely to be sorted into Slytherin than Ravenclaw," Dyroth replied, trying to free himself from the twins' tight embrace.


Fred and George exchanged a glance. Unlike most Gryffindors, they didn't hold an inherent dislike for Slytherins. In fact, they saw them as future customers—Slytherins were a big part of their joke shop business. Besides, the Weasley family, though not wealthy, was still one of the twenty-eight sacred pure-blood families.


"Fred Weasley, and this is my brother George," Fred introduced them both, flashing a grin.


"The famous Weasley twins," Dyroth responded, shaking their hands. "I'm Dyroth Grindelwald, and this is Miss Hermione Granger."


"Listen to that, George! Our reputation precedes us," Fred said dramatically, making Hermione stifle a giggle.


Just as the group began to relax, a commotion outside the carriage grew too loud to ignore.


"What's going on out there?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed with concern.


Dyroth, not one to get involved in petty squabbles, was about to dismiss it. But the distinct accents outside caught his attention.


Before he could react, Fred and George pulled him up.


"Come on, mate! Let's see what's going on. It beats sitting around," Fred urged with a mischievous grin.


...


As they stepped out, Dyroth immediately spotted Draco Malfoy's signature platinum blond hair gleaming in the crowd. Behind Draco stood a group of pure-blood students, all looking irate. On the opposite side stood Ron Weasley, red-faced, with Harry Potter trying to keep things from escalating further.


"Dyroth's here!" a pure-blood student called out. The crowd parted to let him through.


Fred's cheerful expression faltered when he noticed that his younger brother Ron was at the center of the argument.


Ron's voice rang out, his anger unmistakable. "It had to be you! The Malfoy family is full of rotten Death Eaters! Neville's Trevor is missing, and you were the only one seen around here! Who else could it have been?"


"What's going on?" Dyroth asked quietly, stepping up.


Pansy Parkinson, standing nearby, quickly filled him in. "Draco, Goyle, and Crabbe were looking for you in the carriage. They bumped into Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom, who were searching for Neville's pet. The moment Ron saw Draco, he accused him of taking Trevor."


Dyroth frowned. Trevor? Ah yes, Neville's toad, the one that always seemed to vanish.


"Weasley!" Draco snarled, his face flushed with rage. "I was searching for someone, not stealing toads. Not everyone is as idle as the Weasleys!"


Ron, undeterred, snapped back. "Prove it! Who's going to vouch for you?"


"Crabbe and Goyle were with me," Draco retorted, his temper flaring.


"Oh, sure," Ron scoffed. "Because your goons always tell the truth!"


Sensing that the situation was on the verge of spiraling out of control, Dyroth placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Draco, calm down."


Draco whipped around, ready to snap, but his gaze softened when he met Dyroth's calm, steady eyes. "Dyroth, you've got to believe me—I didn't do it."


"I believe you," Dyroth replied firmly, giving Draco a reassuring nod.


Turning to the crowd, Dyroth spoke with calm authority. "I apologize for the disturbance. Please return to your carriages and give some space. This isn't helping."


His polite, controlled tone had an immediate effect, and many students began to disperse. However, to Ron, it seemed like Dyroth was siding with Draco. Feeling a surge of self-righteousness, Ron declared loudly, "No one's leaving until Trevor is found!"


Foolish, Dyroth thought. With no evidence, Ron had escalated the situation. The Weasley twins were frantically signaling for Ron to back down, but he was too caught up in his fantasy of being the hero.


Dyroth sighed and turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom, could you describe Trevor for me?"


Neville, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention, stepped forward nervously. "Uh… Trevor's a toad… golden-backed, with thirteen bumps on his back."


Dyroth nodded, then took out his wand. Focusing on the toad's description, he cast a Summoning Charm. "Accio Trevor!"


A few moments later, a plump toad sailed through the air and landed softly in Dyroth's outstretched hand. The crowd gasped in amazement.


"A Summoning Charm! Brilliant!" Fred exclaimed. "I thought you could only use that on objects, not living creatures!"


"It's trickier with living things," Dyroth explained, handing Trevor back to Neville. "If you're not careful, you can hurt them."


Neville's face lit up as he held the toad close. "Yes! This is Trevor!" he exclaimed with relief.


Dyroth turned to him with a nod. "Mr. Longbottom, I believe you owe Draco an apology."


"I... I'm sorry, Draco," Neville stammered, clearly sincere in his regret.


Draco, though still somewhat irritated, accepted the apology with a stiff nod. Ron, on the other hand, stood awkwardly, his earlier bravado gone. He looked like he wished he could disappear.


As Ron tried to quietly slip away, Dyroth's voice cut through the silence. "Mr. Weasley, don't you think you owe Draco an apology as well—for the baseless accusations?"


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


Dyroth's words effectively shifted the crowd's attention to Ron. Only then did the students notice Ron lingering by the carriage door, looking startled at being discovered. His earlier arrogance quickly faded, leaving him visibly uneasy.


"I didn't say anything wrong. Why should I apologize?" Ron protested, his voice tinged with defensiveness.


"You never know. Maybe Malfoy sent someone to hide Trevor!" Ron persisted, his tone growing more frantic.


"Are you out of your mind?" Daphne Greengrass snapped. "You were slandering Draco just now. He had no time to send anyone else!"


As a member of the prestigious Greengrass family—one of the twenty-eight sacred pure-blood families—Daphne had known Draco since they were children. If Dyroth hadn't stepped in, she might have acted on Draco's behalf herself.


Faced with her sharp rebuke, Ron was left speechless. He looked desperately toward his brothers and Harry for support. Fred and George, though loyal to their family, weren't blind to the truth. Despite the long-standing Weasley-Malfoy feud, they wouldn't twist the facts.


Even Harry, though torn, couldn't fully believe Draco was to blame. His soft-hearted nature often left him unable to argue, especially when his friends were involved.


With Harry not backing him up, Ron's face flushed red with embarrassment. Defeated, he muttered, "I'm sorry," and hurried back into the carriage.


"Alright, that settles it," Dyroth said, addressing the remaining crowd. "We're almost at Hogwarts, so let's head back and get changed. And try not to board the wrong carriage this time!" His lighthearted comment drew laughter from the students, easing the tension.


Earlier, Dyroth had carried himself with elegance and authority, but now he seemed more relaxed and approachable. Hermione nudged him gently with her elbow, silently reminding him not to mimic the Weasley twins' playful antics.


"Draco, you head back with Pansy and the others. I need to have a word with Harry," Dyroth instructed.


As the group began to disperse, Dyroth's eyes fell on Neville standing beside Harry, looking uncertain. A thought struck him—what if he could persuade Harry Potter to join Slytherin? Since his arrival in this world, Dyroth had observed how events were not set in stone. Changes, like those affecting his father Grindelwald or Draco's development, suggested that Harry's house placement might also be altered.


Bringing Harry into Slytherin could complicate Dumbledore's plans and give Dyroth greater control behind the scenes.


"Just go for it," Dyroth decided.


...


After the crowd dispersed, Harry and Neville approached Dyroth, their faces Looked depressed.


"Dyroth, am I terrible?" Harry asked, his voice heavy with self-doubt. "Hagrid said I must be a Gryffindor, but I couldn't even stand up for my friend."


"Look at me, Harry." Dyroth's voice was gentle yet firm. "There isn't just one type of courage. Facing your own shortcomings is also an act of bravery."


"Hogwarts has more than just Gryffindor," Dyroth continued. "Other houses may suit you better."


Neville looked up, intrigued, as Dyroth continued.


"Mr. Longbottom corrects his mistakes when he recognizes them and faces them. This is the courage of Gryffindor. But his sincerity and loyalty towards his friends reflect the traits of Hufflepuff."


"As a member of one of the twenty-eight sacred families, he embodies the pure blood of Slytherin."


"Wait, are you saying I could have traits from more than one house?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.


"Exactly," Dyroth confirmed.


"But… Hagrid and Ron keep saying Gryffindor is the best house," Harry muttered, still unsure.


Dyroth smiled reassuringly.


Dyroth smiled reassuringly. "There isn't a 'best' house—only the house that fits you best."


"Gryffindor values courage, yes, but that doesn't make it flawless. Take Ron's boldness, for instance. His eagerness to defend Neville and accuse Draco was a typical display of Gryffindor bravery."


"However," Dyroth continued, "he didn't fully understand the situation and let personal bias cloud his judgment. That led to Draco being wrongly accused and caused disruption."


Dyroth's explanation resonated deeply with both Harry and Neville. His words were personal, using examples Harry could relate to, making the message more powerful.


Harry remained silent, reflecting on what Dyroth had said. He had sensed something was off when Ron accused Draco, but his insecurities prevented him from speaking up. If Dyroth hadn't stepped in, Draco might have been wronged, and Harry might have lost the chance to befriend him.


"Dyroth… which house do you think I should choose?" Harry asked, looking to him for guidance.


"If Gryffindor doesn't feel right, Slytherin could be a good fit," Dyroth suggested.


"Slytherin?" Harry hesitated.


"What about me?" Hermione interjected eagerly.


"You're sharp-minded and driven by a thirst for knowledge. Both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would suit you well," Dyroth replied.


"I don't want to go to Gryffindor," Hermione said, thinking about Ron's behavior.


Neville, too, was uncertain. Once, he had hoped to be in Gryffindor, but now Hufflepuff seemed like a more fitting choice for him.


...


With a loud whistle, the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into the station. Under the dark night sky, the old platform looked like a relic from a bygone era. Dyroth's heart raced as he gazed at the majestic castle in the distance. This was Hogwarts—the iconic setting of the magical world.


The real-life sight was far more awe-inspiring than any film depiction.


"First-years, over here!" Hagrid's booming voice called out. His massive figure loomed above the bustling students.


"Hagrid!" Dyroth called back, following Hermione toward the gamekeeper.


Hagrid's face lit up when he saw Dyroth. "Dyroth! Good timing, lad. Help me round up the first-years, would you? They're scattered all over the place."


"Of course, not a problem."


Dyroth quickly drew his wand and pointed it at his throat. "Sonorus!"


His voice amplified across the platform. "First-year students, gather here! Boys line up on the left, girls on the right. Follow Mr. Hagrid to the castle."


As the crowd began to organize, Dyroth couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. This was just the beginning of his journey at Hogwarts.


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


As early as on the train, many of the new students had taken notice of Dyroth, an elegant and commanding figure. Unable to resist following his lead, they quietly lined up into two rows, just as he instructed.


Even the pure-bloods, led by Draco and Pansy, typically the most rebellious group of new students, complied without a fuss. In previous years, these pure-blooded wizards were notorious troublemakers, yet now they were clearly impressed by Dyroth's presence. Rather than causing problems for Hagrid, they even helped him maintain order.


"It would be great if you could always help me with gathering new students," Hagrid sighed.


Having done this job for many years, today was the first time he had managed to get all the first-years lined up so neatly and without any chaos. Normally, it felt like herding sheep, but now everything was running smoothly.


Under Hagrid's guidance, everyone reached the dock and boarded the boats to cross the lake towards the castle. The still water rippled as the boats glided across, and by the flickering light of the torches, mysterious creatures could be glimpsed swimming beneath the surface.


Hermione, seated in the boat, flinched at the sound of splashing water.


"Dyroth, what was that?" she asked nervously.


"It's the giant squid. It's mentioned in Hogwarts: A History," Dyroth replied calmly. "Don't worry; it's harmless."


"The giant squid isn't fully visible now. On sunny days, you can sometimes see them basking near the lake's surface, and if you're lucky, you can even touch their tentacles."


"Hogwarts is even more incredible than I imagined! Look, Dyroth, is that a tower?" Hermione exclaimed, pointing at the towering structures ahead.


Despite being a future Minister of Magic, Hermione was still just an eleven-year-old girl entering the magical world for the first time. Her awe was palpable, and she unconsciously leaned on Dyroth for reassurance.


With a soft splash, the boats arrived at the shore. The students disembarked and walked through the narrow passage leading to the grand hall of Hogwarts.


A notification flashed in Dyroth's mind:


[Congratulations to the host for entering Hogwarts School for the first time and unlocking the achievement: Hogwarts Freshman.]


[Achievement reward: 50 points.]


"Points just for arriving? Not bad," Dyroth mused. "I better not mess up now that the real plot is about to start."


At the entrance to the hall, a woman dressed in a dark green robe and black wizard's hat was already waiting for them. Her demeanor was strikingly similar to that of Vinda Rosier — the elegance that only comes with age and experience. The main difference was that Vinda had an innate nobility, while the woman before them projected a more serious and formal air.


"Welcome to Hogwarts," she greeted them.


"In a few moments, you will walk through these doors to join your classmates. But first, you will need to be sorted into your respective houses," Professor McGonagall explained.


"The four houses are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be like your family. Outstanding performance will earn your house points, and rule-breaking will result in point deductions. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."


Professor McGonagall paused for a moment, quietly muttering to herself, "This year's students are surprisingly well-behaved, unlike the chaos we usually deal with."


Hagrid chuckled beside her, "I had Dyroth to help me this time! Made my life a lot easier."


"Thank you, Dyroth," Professor McGonagall said, glancing at him with appreciation. "You saved me a great deal of trouble."


Dyroth smiled modestly. "It wasn't just me. It was the combined effort of all the students."


"Such a humble child. I do hope you end up in Gryffindor. We could use someone like you to keep the peace," McGonagall said, though she noted the group of students clustering around Dyroth — Draco, Pansy, Theodore, and others.


"Though... it seems more likely you'll end up in Slytherin," she remarked thoughtfully.


"Slytherin is full of dark wizards," Ron muttered, earning glares from many of his peers.


Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow but did not comment. "Everything is ready. Please follow me inside."


As the doors slowly opened, a magnificent hall filled with long tables and the familiar sight of hundreds of students from all the houses appeared before them. At the far end, the professors sat at a raised table, and Dyroth immediately noticed the elderly man with a white beard and half-moon spectacles seated in the center — Dumbledore, the man responsible for imprisoning his father, Gellert Grindelwald, in Nurmengard.


"Dyroth, look at the sky! The ceiling is enchanted! I read all about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione said, her eyes filled with awe.


"Hermione, focus on which house you'll be sorted into. You'll have plenty of time to admire the ceiling later," Dyroth replied, keeping his voice calm. His mind, however, was focused on the conversations he'd had on the train.


He was confident that Hermione would no longer be sorted into Gryffindor, as she was in the original timeline. Neville, too, had shown signs of wavering; it seemed unlikely that he would continue his path toward Gryffindor. The real question was Harry. Dumbledore had already laid the groundwork, leaving a deep impression on him, and Dyroth couldn't guarantee that Harry wouldn't still choose Gryffindor.


"Please wait here for a moment. Professor Dumbledore has a few words to say before the ceremony begins," McGonagall instructed.


Dyroth's gaze locked onto Dumbledore, his mind running at full speed. Without even realizing it, his Occlumency defenses automatically activated.


Dumbledore, too, had noticed Dyroth the moment he stepped into the hall. When the name 'Dyroth Grindelwald' appeared on the Book of Admittance, he hesitated before finally sending the letter. He half-expected the boy to choose Durmstrang, given his lineage. Never had he thought he'd see that familiar blond hair and blue eyes here, surrounded by other students, reminding him of an old friend from long ago.


"Professor Dumbledore?" McGonagall whispered, breaking Dumbledore's train of thought.


"My apologies," Dumbledore smiled warmly. "First, a few announcements before we begin. First-year students, please remember that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students. Additionally, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right is also out of bounds, unless you wish to meet a very unpleasant end."


"Thank you," he concluded, sitting down as Professor McGonagall stepped forward again.


"Students whose names are called, please come forward to be sorted."


She held a scroll of parchment in her hand, and the first name she read aloud was: "Hannah Abbott!"


Dyroth watched as a blonde girl walked to the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on her head.


"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted, and excited cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table.


Another notification popped up in Dyroth's mind:


[Congratulations to the host for witnessing the first student sorted, unlocking the achievement: The Birth of the First student.]


[Achievement reward: 50 points.]


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


For Harry Potter fanfics, the protagonist and heroine will be different, but one thing remains unchanged: the Sorting Hat!


"If I remember correctly, Hannah Abbott is destined to become Neville's future wife."


"If Neville is sorted into Hufflepuff, I wonder if their relationship will progress faster."


As Dyroth was thinking, Professor McGonagall called out Neville's name.


"Neville Longbottom!"


Neville walked nervously toward the Sorting Hat, unused to the spotlight of so many eyes.


Unlike the previous students, the Sorting Hat seemed deep in thought as it conversed with him.


"Are you sure about your choice?"


"I... I'm sure!"


"Alright then—Hufflepuff!"


The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, while Dumbledore looked on with a puzzled expression.


"If I recall correctly, both of Mr. Longbottom's parents were Gryffindors. I didn't expect him to be sorted into Hufflepuff," Dumbledore was confused.


Professor Sprout, the kindly silver-haired head of Hufflepuff, smiled broadly as she welcomed her new students.


"Next, Hermione Granger!"


Hermione took a deep breath and stood up, trying to calm her nerves. She glanced back at Dyroth and then took her place on the stool.


"She's mentally ill and looks weird."


Ron clearly remembered that the girl who had been following Dyroth and had whispered bad things in Harry's ear while she was being sorted.


Ron had expected Harry to agree, but Harry gave him a slightly disapproving look. Dyroth cast a cold glance at Ron.


Feeling the weight of Dyroth's gaze, Ron, already feeling cold, avoided eye contact and huddled behind Harry, acting timidly.


"Mr. Weasley, it's not appropriate to speak ill of others behind their backs," Professor McGonagall admonished, drawing the attention of many in the hall.


Professor McGonagall was standing not far away from the two of them. How could she, being upright, tolerate such a thing.


But at that moment, the Sorting Hat's voice echoed with a hint of helplessness in Its tone.


"Well, it seems this year's first-years have strong opinions of their own."


"So..."


"Ravenclaw!"


Hermione cheered, shot a triumphant look at Dyroth, and went to the Ravenclaw table. She immediately began chatting with the senior students.


Dyroth observed the scene with satisfaction. His plan was progressing well: establishing his reputation, making a good impression on the professors, and setting up Hermione and Neville to be separated from Harry to increase future competition with Dumbledore.


Now, the key question was whether he could trick Harry into Slytherin.


If successful, it would be a significant setback for Dumbledore!


As Draco, Pansy, Ron, and others were sorted, the climax of Dyroth's first confrontation with Dumbledore arrived.


"Harry Potter!"


Professor McGonagall announced, and the hall buzzed with excitement. Even Dumbledore stood up, focused intently on Harry.


Dumbledore thought. "I can see Harry has courage, a good heart, and talent. Let's see."


Harry sat on the stool, and the Sorting Hat's voice spoke in his mind.


"Hey, Harry, do you have a house preference?"


"Huh... It's him again!" the Sorting Hat seemed to say with surprise.


"Again?" Harry wondered, catching the hint.


"Yes, the boy with the blond hair and blue eyes. Many before you have relied on his preferences, and he was right. There's no best house, only the one that suits you best."


"I'm curious where he will end up," the Sorting Hat mused. "Have you made your choice? Slytherin or Gryffindor?"


Harry hesitated.


As the minutes ticked by, the students grew increasingly anxious. Before Harry, the sorting had never taken this long. Five minutes had passed, and Harry was still undecided!


Dumbledore's brow furrowed. As the headmaster, he knew the Sorting Hat's rules well. Harry's hesitation was the only explanation for the delay.


Dumbledore's careful planning—sending Hagrid to collect Harry, orchestrating Harry's meeting with the Weasley family—had subtly suggested that Gryffindor was the best choice.


Yet, Harry was still uncertain.


Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Dyroth in the crowd. "Could this be because of you, Dyroth?"


Dyroth was the only one who could have influenced Harry so profoundly in such a short time.


"Still undecided, Harry?" the Sorting Hat's voice echoed in Harry's mind. "Let me help you!"


With that final nudge, the Sorting Hat announced to the hall:


"Harry Potter will be in..."


"Gryffindor!"


The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers.


"We have Harry Potter!"


"Harry Potter is one of us!"


Dumbledore finally relaxed, his tension easing. Dyroth shook his head, disappointed.


"It's still just one step away," Dyroth thought. Harry's reaction seemed muted compared to the original story, his smile less enthusiastic.


"Dumbledore, what if Harry feels he doesn't truly belong in Gryffindor?"


"I lost this time, but it's not a victory for you either," he concluded.


As the hall buzzed with excitement, Professor McGonagall reviewed the parchment and prepared to call the next student. When she saw the next name, her expression grew complicated.


She looked at Dumbledore with hesitation.


The room fell silent as everyone awaited the next name.


"Dyroth Grindelwald!"


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


Even the youngest wizard, new to the magical world, recognizes the name Grindelwald!


The first Dark Lord!


The man who shook Europe and nearly conquered the entire European wizarding world!


Most shocking of all, he's still alive!


Except for Draco, Pansy, and a few others who were already aware, everyone looked at the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy with astonishment.


They could hardly believe that the courteous boy they'd met on the train and at the station was the son of the Dark Lord!


Dyroth ignored the curious stares and walked up to the high platform with graceful steps.


Dumbledore fell into deep thought, his eyes growing distant as memories from the past two months flooded back.


He murmured the name involuntarily.


"Gellert…"


Professor McGonagall looked at Dyroth with a mix of regret and surprise.


When Dyroth first arrived at Hogwarts, he had made a perfect impression—humble, strong, and polite.


She had assumed he came from a prominent pure-blood family, perhaps with high-ranking officials in the Ministry of Magic or members of the Wizengamot or the International Confederation of Wizards.


What she had forgotten was that she had also sent an admission notice to that person's adopted son!


"Please put on the Sorting Hat, Mr. Grindelwald," Professor McGonagall instructed.


"Just call me Dyroth, Professor McGonagall," Dyroth replied politely as he bowed and took his seat on the stool under the gaze of everyone present.


"Finally, I meet you, the little blond wizard," the Sorting Hat's voice echoed in his mind.


"Can we discuss stopping your Occlumency?" the Sorting Hat asked with a touch of frustration. "It's difficult for me to handle you like this!"


Dyroth smirked inwardly. His seventh-level Occlumency was evidently effective. Even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to discern his thoughts without it.


He allowed only his core memories and thoughts to remain protected by narrowing the scope of his Occlumency.


A sharp, probing sensation entered his mind.


The Sorting Hat seemed relieved.


"This is the first time I've been addressed so politely," the Sorting Hat commented. "Your talent and manners are exceptional. Even Salazar and Godric would be envious at your age."


"Let me see which house suits you."


After reviewing Dyroth's experiences, the Sorting Hat continued to praise him.


"Brave, fearless, and willing to challenge everything, much like Godric Gryffindor."


"Honest, resilient, and unafraid of difficulties, possessing all the traits of Helga Hufflepuff."


"Wise, scholarly, passionate about research, and far-sighted, similar to Rowena Ravenclaw."


"So, your house is…"


"Slytherin!"


When the Sorting Hat first began speaking, Draco and the others were already in despair. But then, they were taken by surprise!


The Slytherin table erupted in unprecedented applause.


Draco and Pansy's eyes sparkled with excitement!


Dyroth's lips twitched. For a moment, he almost believed the Sorting Hat would place him elsewhere.


Revenge! Direct revenge!


The Sorting Hat seemed to be exacting revenge for the influence Dyroth had exerted on Hermione and the others, causing them to diverge from the Sorting Hat's expectations!


"Is this how you play your little games?" Dyroth thought. "Well, let's see how you handle this!"


He stood up and bowed graciously to everyone. Then, he drew his wand and pointed it at the Sorting Hat on the chair.


"Cleaned up!"


The audience gasped in shock!


"Mr. Sorting Hat, you don't need to thank me. It's the least I could do," Dyroth said with a smirk. If he didn't act now, who knew when he might get another chance?


Better to take decisive action than to stew internally!


If the Sorting Hat hadn't spoken, Harry would still be uncertain about his house!


[Congratulations to the host for completing the sorting ceremony and earning the achievement: Slytherin]


[Achievement point reward: 50]


"I've got enough for five consecutive rounds. Let's make use of them when we get back to the room!"


Arriving at the Slytherin table, several students immediately approached him.


"Wensey Rolle, nice to meet you, Dyroth!"


"Marcus Flint! From the twenty-eight sacred tribes, the Flint family!" A strong man who resembled a chimpanzee extended his hand towards Dyroth.


Before he could finish, several girls pushed him aside.


The eyes that looked at Dyroth were filled with admiration!


Gellert Grindelwald was a renowned figure, and Dyroth's resemblance was striking.


Which girl could resist?


A casual word from him was enough to excite them for a long time.


After an unknown amount of time, the last student completed the sorting, and the entire ceremony finally ended.


"Please pay attention, everyone!" Professor McGonagall announced, gently tapping her glass with a golden spoon.


Dumbledore stood up.


"As the new school year begins, I have some final words to share with you."


"That's… Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"


"The banquet has officially begun!"


As soon as he finished speaking, all sorts of delicacies appeared on the banquet table.


The rich aroma filled the hall!


Dyroth had to admit that the food at Hogwarts was indeed impressive!


At least it was much better than Vinda's cooking!


"Ho ho ho ho!"


A multitude of ghosts emerged from the walls and floated around the hall, causing many first-years to shriek in surprise.


After a burst of noise, the banquet came to an end.


Dumbledore waved his hand, and the food on the table vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.


For Dyroth, who had studied magic for years, this was just a common sight. But for many freshmen experiencing magic for the first time, it was still quite remarkable.


"The dinner is over. Now, please sing our school song with your best voices!" Dumbledore instructed.


Dyroth observed that Dumbledore's words had caused several professors on the stage to change their expressions, particularly Professor Snape, whose already dark demeanor grew even gloomier.


Dumbledore, in high spirits, waved his wand like a conductor's baton, guiding everyone to join in the song.


The resulting cacophony included the Weasley twins causing mischief with their mournful tones.


Dyroth carefully listened, trying to discern the tone Professor Snape might say.


It turned out that Snape simply opened his mouth and said nothing!


Instead, it was Professor Flitwick, standing next to him, whose voice was surprisingly loud.


...


The banquet concluded.


Under the guidance of the prefects, students returned to their common rooms.


Arriving at the Slytherin common room, the prefect spoke to everyone.


"I am your prefect. Remember the password for our entrance."


"I'll only say it once."


Before a damp wall adorned with snake patterns, he looked proud.


"Pureblood Glory!"


The wall slowly opened, revealing a luxurious green and silver hall.


The Slytherin banner hung high.


Snake motifs adorned the common room, and the dark green décor gave the space a particularly mysterious feel.


Through the glass windows, one could vaguely see the creatures moving in the Black Lake.


Just as Dyroth was about to enter and rest, Snape's figure appeared behind them.


A cold voice reached Dyroth's ears.


"Mr. Grindelwald, Professor Dumbledore requests your presence in the headmaster's office."


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


The new students in Slytherin all looked at Dyroth Grindelwald with doubtful eyes.


Dyroth sneered inwardly.


Can't bear it?


Don't worry, there will be more places where you can't resist in the future!


Putting aside the grievances between the Saints and Dumbledore, Dyroth's own feelings about Dumbledore are not that bad.


In any case, this old man has dedicated his life to maintaining peace in the magical world.


Even if he is too arbitrary sometimes and wants everyone to follow his ideas.


But the starting point is good.


Unlike some hypocrites who talk about sacrificing everything, but when it's their turn, they run faster than anyone else.


Dumbledore's selflessness is that he not only sacrifices others but also his own life.


Unfortunately, his idea may not be correct.


Imposing your own ideas on others is a wrong behavior in itself.


"Mr. Grindelwald, if you don't want to stand still like a troll, you'd better come with me as soon as possible."


Snape's impatient voice sounded.


The corners of Dyroth's lips curled up: "Dean Snape, please lead the way."


"Snort!"


Snape snorted coldly and led Dyroth towards the principal's office on the eighth floor.


Along the way, Dyroth didn't say anything rashly.


Snape was not as easy to fool as Harry.


How can a person who can be a double agent be provoked with just a few words?


If you don't pay attention, you may alert him.


Fortunately, Snape was not a talkative person, so the two of them walked to the eighth floor in silence and climbed the gryphon-shaped spiral staircase.


"Sizzling honey candy!"


The stone beast opened the door, and the two walked into the principal's room.


What comes into view are the picture frames of past principals and countless books.


The phoenix stood on the sycamore tree, combing its feathers with its beak.


Dumbledore was in a trance when he saw Dyroth, then recovered and spoke to Snape.


"Thank you, Severus."


"Oh, But I hope a certain headmaster can eat less sweets, so that his poor Potions Professor will have less work to do."


As soon as Snape came in, he saw the candies on the table and couldn't help but be venomous.


"Be considerate, this is the only hobby of this old man."


Dumbledore replied with a smile and extended an invitation to Dyroth.


"Mr. Grindelwald, would you like some sherbet lemon? Or a pile of cockroaches?"


"No need, Headmaster."


"Perhaps, you can consider Professor Snape's suggestion. Eating too much sugar at night is really bad for your teeth."


"Especially for a centenarian."


Dyroth, who possesses the seventh level of Occlumency, did not show much fear of Dumbledore.


If it was Voldemort standing across from him, he might have to think about how to escape. But Dumbledore can speak freely and boldly.


It is much better to deal with a well-behaved old man than a madman.


Even though this old man is terrifyingly powerful!


"Severus, if you have nothing to do, you should go to the Slytherin lounge first."


"According to Slytherin tradition, the election for Perfect is about to begin."


I knew this old man had no good intentions!


Dyroth sneered inwardly.


Didn't you deliberately call me to the principal's office at this time just to disqualify me from competing for the chief (perfect) position?


Not being able to become the Perfect means that my reputation in Slytherin has been greatly reduced and by supporting this new leader executive, you can train someone to compete with me.


As expected of you, Dumbledore!


It only takes a few moves to cover several layers of calculations!


Snape turned around and left without any hesitation.


"Mr. Grindelwald, take a seat," Dumbledore said slowly.


"What would you like to drink? How about British black tea?"


"Okay, thank you, Mr. Principal." Dyroth smiled with a smile on his face.


"I really envy you that you can enjoy life anytime and anywhere, unlike my father."


"He should be about the same age as you. He is alone in a high tower."


"No one talks to him, and he only has a poor meal every day. He can only stay in his room quietly, staring blankly at the letter in his hand."


"I once asked him why he never saw a reply. He didn't speak, he just looked into the distance in silence."


"It would be great if he could enjoy life more like you."


"You think so? Mr. Principal!"


Damn it, are you trying to do these little tricks with me?


I can't kill you with a knife! but words can kill.


As Dyroth spoke, his eyes were fixed on Dumbledore.


Dumbledore looked calm on the surface, but his slightly trembling palms still revealed his innermost feelings.


"I really don't know what my father was thinking. He knew that there would be no reply, but he still sent out letters one after another."


"Sure enough, who would love an old man like him?"


Dyroth's pretentious words made Dumbledore completely lose his temper.


He didn't even notice the hot tea spilled on his hand!


Looking at Dumbledore's eyes gradually turning red, Dyroth knew he had got what he wanted.


Afraid of laughing out loud accidentally!


It was you who set the goal together with my father, and you even said the slogan.


But later?


You pat your butt and leave, leaving him to struggle alone!


Step on his corpse and become the greatest white wizard of this century!


and he now is imprisoned in Nurmengard, but you are quite comfortable.


Eat honey candies and sing songs every day!


Dumbledore didn't know how to speak for a while. Perhaps, it would be more appropriate to call him afraid to speak.


Dyroth didn't rush him, and quietly admired the changes in his expression.


From recollection, to nostalgia, to regret and more regret.


It took nearly ten minutes for Dumbledore to wake up from the rush of his emotions and look at Dyroth with an increasingly complicated look.


"As I get older, I always think of some past events."


"Sorry for the wait."


"It doesn't matter, Mr. Principal, only those who have something unforgettable will have past events to recall."


Dyroth's words were meant to stab Dumbledore in the heart, and each stab was harder than the last!


"You haven't told me yet, why did you call me here?"


Being held accountable by Dyroth, Dumbledore also forgot what he wanted to talk about when he called him here.


I was stunned for a while!


At this moment, there was a sudden movement outside the gate.


Professor Snape, who had just left not long ago, returned again.


"What's wrong, Severus?"


"That's up to our beloved Mr. Grindelwald."


"Mr. Malfoy and others said that Slytherin first-year students will not obey anyone except Mr. Grindelwald."


Dumbledore finally remembered the purpose of calling Dyroth here.


But he didn't expect that Dyroth's reputation in Slytherin would be this high.


Dumbledore didn't know what to do now


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


Well done, Draco! You have lived up to the effort I spent on you!


Dyroth couldn't help but laugh this time. Dumbledore racked his brains to call him over, but he still felt guilty for a long time. As a result, all his effort was in vain!


"Mr. Principal, it's getting late. If you have nothing else to do, I will go back first. So many Slytherin classmates are still waiting for me. I can't keep them waiting for a long time."


"You think so?" Dyroth suppressed the crazy raised corners of his mouth and bowed politely. After getting Dumbledore's helpless permission, he followed Snape back to the Slytherin common room.


As soon as they entered, they saw dozens of pure-blood freshmen headed by Draco, Pansy, and Daphne holding wands and looking warily at the freshmen and seniors opposite. Dyroth knew this would happen from his previous encounters with British pure-blood families.


Pure-blood families are also divided into several camps. In addition to the twenty-eight sacred clans, there are also many powerful pure-blood families. The group of pure-bloods led by Malfoy that Dyroth attracted only accounted for a part of them.


He knew he could not bring all the pure-blood families under his command. Winning over a group of people, suppressing a group, and cleaning up a group is the right path! Now is the time to establish your authority!


"Dyroth, you are finally back!"


"Well done, Draco." Dyroth stepped forward and stood in front of everyone, looking at Draco with admiration in his eyes. Turning around, he faced the other Slytherin students.


Prefect Carlo said coldly: "All the freshmen are here. The freshman Perfect competition starts now."


(Carlo is the perfect that led them and told them the password, note that there will be names that aren't from the series)


"Are there any challengers?" A boy as thin as a skeleton stood up immediately, his eyes directed towards Dyroth. "Klein Shafiq!"


The Shafiq family is one of the twenty-eight pure bloods. Running a potion business, they were in ruins when Voldemort rose and have never recovered since then. A winnable character. Information about this person immediately appeared in Dyroth's mind. When he entered school, he asked Vinda to collect information about his peers from British pure-blood families so he could make plans for them.


He raised his wand and held it horizontally in front of his chest, performing a standard wizard's duel ceremony. "Dyroth Grindelwald!"


After the two sides officially entered the arena, Carlo used magic to clear away the surrounding debris. "The duel begins!"


"Arrow Shooting Spell!" As soon as he finished speaking, Klein Shafiq couldn't wait to use his best move. It's a pity that he is only eleven years old this year and has just entered school. Even if he learned magic at home in advance, due to age and talent limitations, the system level of this technique is only level 1.


Although Dyroth exchanged all his achievement points for talent improvement in the past, he learned a lot of magic and knowledge in the process of earning achievement points. He just didn't have time to think about practice. Even so, most of his magic spells levels are around level 2, and some of his magic has even reached level 3. The amount of magic mastered far exceeds that of any student!


"Incendio!" Dyroth's wand pointed at the arrows in mid-air, and the violent flames quickly devoured them. The momentum continued unabated and flew straight towards the opponent! Shafiq was petrified. The magic that he had practiced for a long time was so vulnerable!


In the panic, he even forgot to dodge! "Idiot! Get out of the way!" When Snape scolded him, he took out his wand and started to act. The moment the flame was about to touch Shafiq, the flame suddenly disappeared. Only the residual heat was left.


"Are you okay?"


Shafiq closed his eyes tightly in fear. He thought he was dead, but suddenly he heard a gentle voice in his ear. When he opened his eyes, he realized that he had fallen to the ground, and a slender palm was reaching out to him.


"I... I'm fine."


"It's okay. The meaning of magic is to protect, not to risk your life. If you get hurt because of my mistake, I will be so guilty that I can't sleep tonight!" His words echoed in the lounge, and everyone was in an uproar. Are these words something the son of the Dark Lord can say?


Several people kept reciting the meaning of Dyroth's magic sentence, and the more they recited it, the more interesting it became. Shafiq raised his head and met Dyroth's gentle eyes. From his eyes, Shafiq did not see any irony towards the loser. Just full of concern!


He seems to really care about me! Before that, Shafiq's impression of Dyroth was that of the son of the Dark Lord, an evil wizard! When he came forward, he was ready to go to St. Mungo's Hospital. As a result, not only was he not harmed at all, but he also received sincere care from the other party!


Thinking that he had been dissatisfied just now because of Dyroth's delay in coming before, Shafiq couldn't help but feel a deep sense of guilt in his heart. He stammered twice. The powerful intimidation of Dyroth when he used magic and the gentle comfort after the duel kept coming to his mind.


After looking at Dyroth for a long time, he climbed up and bowed deeply to Dyroth. "Mr. Grindelwald, you are a powerful wizard and a noble worthy of respect. Thank you for your advice. Fighting with you is the glory of my life!"


The entire battle lasted only ten seconds from beginning to end, and there was no bloodshed at all. This surprised all the old students and Snape. Shafiq held his head high and proudly returned to his place. In his mind, Dyroth is a great wizard and a man of noble character. Even if you lose the battle, there will be no complaints!


"The next challenger, please come forward. Is there a next challenger?" Carlo said it several times. There was only silence in response to him. This freshmen class wants to be in the limelight, but they are not fools. It can be seen with one move that Dyroth's strength is not at the same level as theirs. Fight him? Are you looking for death?


"Anyone wants to continue the challenge? Then I announce that the first-year Perfect is Dyroth Grindelwald!" As soon as he finished speaking, there was warm applause in the lounge.


[Congratulations to the host for becoming the Perfect of Slytherin and obtaining the achievement: Perfect (First Grade)]


[Achievement point reward: 100]


"One hundred points is quite a lot. I should be able to give you another wave when I'm in second grade. After seventh grade, the total is 700 points. Fortunately, Draco and the others came forward; otherwise, I would have suffered a huge loss!"


After Dyroth calmed down the excited Draco and others, he heard Carlo speak again. "Now that the new Perfect has been determined, let's start the Perfect ranking battle. Is there anyone you want to challenge?"


"Perfect Ranking Battle?" Dyroth was a little confused. He knew that Slytherin had a Perfect, who would be chosen among the freshmen every year. But What is this ranked battle?


Draco explained: "Slytherin's rules is very strict, so strict that there are standards for where to sit when eating and doing activities. Even those of us in lower grades and lower rankings will be ordered not to participate if there are too many people in some activities. The ranking battle is to determine the ranking of your grade through the duel between the Perfects."


After listening to Draco's words, Dyroth finally understood the meaning of first grade in the system achievement! It turns out that this first grader doesn't mean that he is in the first grade, but that he is just the leader of the first grade! In this case, don't blame yourself for being rude! When it comes to achievement points, the sooner you get them, the better. Improving your strength as soon as possible is the right way! Without enough strength, no matter how many forces you have, they are just castles in the air!


"Dyroth, you don't plan to..." Draco noticed the change in Dyroth's eyes and almost screamed. Thinking of Dyroth's strength, his face suddenly glowed with joy. "Yes, with your strength, you can beat them all"


"Quickly, show them some color. When you didn't come back just now, second-year Perfect was the one who screamed the loudest!"


Dyroth smiled slightly and stood out from the crowd. "The first-year Perfect Dyroth Grindelwald challenges the second-year Perfect!"


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


"Hahaha... Diderot, you're being treated like a soft persimmon!"


The other Perfects around Diderot Yaxley ,the second-year perfect laughed.


They weren't the ones being challenged, so they didn't care much.


"Shut up!"


Diderot seemed greatly humiliated.


"Dyroth, huh? Arrogant boy!"


"Today, I'll teach you how to respect your seniors!"


The Yaxley family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families.


Voldemort's die-hard loyalists!


Many members of the family were still imprisoned in Azkaban!


In Dyroth's future plans, they were a part that had to be dealt with sooner or later.


Information about the Yaxley family flashed through his mind, and a cold glint appeared in Dyroth 's eyes.


"Both sides, prepare for the duel!"


"The duel begins!"


Before Carlo's voice faded, Dyroth was already casting his spell.


"Stupefy"


A red beam of light shot toward Diderot!


There was no time for him to react!


"Petrificus Totalus!"


Diderot struggled to cast a spell to counter, but it was too late!


"Boom!"


With a dull thud, Diderot was blasted backward, flying towards Snape by accident.


Amidst a flurry of gasps, Snape waved his wand, sending Diderot aside.


His face was as dark as coal!


"Take this idiot to Madam Pomfrey, quickly!"


Several stunned older students rushed to pick Diderot up and hurriedly ran towards the door.


The rest of the students were already frightened by Dyroth's display of power.


One spell, just one!


Even if it was a sneak attack, Dyroth had clearly outmatched Diderot.


Compared to Diderot, who barely managed to cast a curse, the difference was massive!


Pansy Parkinson and others cheered wildly, jumping up and down in excitement, almost throwing Dyroth into the air.


It was rare for a lower-year student to defeat an upper-year student in the Perfect ranking battles!


Even when it did happen, it was usually among fifth or sixth years, after they had spent years learning advanced magic.


For new students like them, most hadn't even mastered basic spells yet.


Beating a senior?


That was unheard of!


"Dyroth, you're amazing!"


Draco Malfoy was beside himself with excitement, acting as though he had been the one to defeat Diderot.


Dyroth smiled, though a trace of regret glimmered in his eyes.


If it hadn't been in front of so many people, and if he weren't at Hogwarts, he would have never let Diderot go.


Being the perfect of his year showed Diderot's talent and hard work were among the best of his peers.


In the future, he would likely become at least an Auror, if not a professor.


Letting him go now would be like letting a tiger return to its mountain.


What a pity. Dyroth would have to find another chance to deal with him in the future.


As Diderot was defeated, the system prompt echoed in Dyroth 's mind.


[Congratulations to the host for defeating the second-year perfect. You have obtained the achievement: perfect (Second Year)]


[Achievement points awarded: 200]


Dyroth was surprised. "System, why 200 points?"


[The host received bonus points for defeating an upper-year student. The greater the difference in years, the more generous the rewards.]


If I beat the seventh-year perfect, will I get 700 points?


That's enough for seven card draws!


Dyroth 's eyes gleamed as he glanced at the other perfects.


They were all walking, talking achievements!


"First-year Perfect Dyroth Grindelwald has successfully completed his challenge. If no one else wishes to challenge, I declare..."


"Wait, Prefect Carlo."


Being interrupted once again, his face showed clear annoyance.


"Have you not finished? Is there more?"


"I will continue to challenge the third-year Perfect!"


Third-year Perfect: "???"


I was just watching this from the sidelines. How did this come to me?


All eyes shifted to the third-year Perfect.


"Mr. Grindelwald, you should treat ladies like a gentleman."


The third-year Perfect, Alexia Selwyn, sighed as she walked to the center of the common room.


Alexia was a striking girl, tall with a slim figure, and her rare light green hair was her most notable feature.


She was pureblood one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families.


"Alexia, don't lose to this guy!"


"Come on, Alexia, we believe in you!"


"A first-year being so arrogant? Teach him a lesson!"


Her popularity was clear, as cheers erupted from the crowd.


Dyroth was unimpressed.


In his previous life, kids at this age were still munching on instant noodles at the school gates.


With these thoughts in his mind, Dyroth politely bowed, preparing to duel.


"The second perfect-ranking duel will be between first-year perfect Dyroth Grindelwald and third-year perfect Alexia Selwyn."


"Begin!"


"Protego!"


Alexia had learned from Diderot's mistake, casting a Shield charm immediately to protect herself.


She did not dare underestimate this elegant-looking younger student.


If she wasn't careful, she might lose just like Diderot!


But what she didn't expect was that Dyroth's skills weren't limited to charms!


"Diffindo!"


Dyroth aimed his wand at a chair nearby.


The chair shattered instantly, splintering into pieces that flew across the room.


With a wave of his wand, the scattered shards of wood transformed into a flock of ravens!


they shot towards Alexia's stomach!


"Petrificus Totalus!"


Alexia reacted quickly, casting the Body-Bind Curse.


The ravens froze in mid-air, turning into stone statues before falling to the ground.


Dyroth calmly pointed his wand at Alexia's robes, flicking it twice.


The buttons on her robes twisted and morphed into small snakes!


The snakes hissed and slithered menacingly.


"Ah!"


Caught off guard, Alexia stumbled backward, falling to the ground.


The snakes reverted back to buttons, harmless once more.


Not wanting her to retaliate, Dyroth quickly cast a binding spell, wrapping her hands tightly.


"Miss Selwyn, I accept your surrender."


"I give up! Let me go already!"


Alexia glared at Dyroth, her eyes filled with fury.


As the spell was lifted, she rubbed her sore wrists and walked up to Dyroth, jabbing him in the chest with her finger.


"Ungentlemanly Mr. Grindelwald!"


"I'll remember this!"


With a huff, she shook her long hair and returned to her place among the Perfects.


The room was dead silent.


It took a moment before anyone spoke, disbelief clear in their tone.


"Alexia... lost?"


"Really?"


"Impossible!"


"..."


Dyroth ignored the whispers, listening instead to the system's voice in his mind.


[Congratulations to the host for defeating the third-year Perfect. You have obtained the achievement: Perfect (Third Year)]


[Achievement points awarded: 300]


A great loot today!


Today's rewards were almost equal to what he earned in the past two weeks!


As his eyes drifted to the fourth-year Perfect, this poor student immediately panicked!


Thinking "From the ease with which Dyroth fought, it was clear he wasn't even using his full strength!


If I have to face him..."


Cold sweat dripped from the forehead of the fourth-year Perfect.


Carlo noticed Dyroth's intent and turned to the fourth-year Perfect.


With trembling hands, the fourth-year perfect stepped forward.


"go, give him a good fight!"


Damn it!


he already felt guilty, and the shouts from behind only angered him more.


He kicked one of his fellow students the one who shouted in the shin.


"Are you stupid?"


"Dyroth is my dear friend, like a brother! How could I fight him?"


He walked up to Dyroth with a handful of sweets in hand, offering them as though they were a peace treaty.


"Brother, are you tired after so many duels?"


"Have some candy to recharge."


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


The fourth-year perfect Scarman, his actions left Dyroth speechless.


Brother, you are the perfect! Can you act with a bit more dignity?


Don't make yourself look like a fool!


"Brother, let's talk this over and give it some thought. There are so many people watching—let me lose more gracefully."


"If you agree, I'll give you a special gift later—something I've treasured for years!"


Scarman whispered so only the two of them could hear.


Dyroth hesitated before nodding.


It's a win for me anyway, so what's the harm in making it look a little better for him?


Why not get a little extra benefit out of this?


"Both sides, ready!"


"The duel begins!"


The two saluted each other, then moved to their positions on the battlefield.


"Petrificus Totalus!"


"Protego!"


"Stupefy!"


"Protego totalum!"


Spells flew wildly, with dazzling beams of light making the young wizards gasp in awe.


It was like a scene from a fantasy—a mysterious magic play!


Most of the younger students were amazed, but Snape and the prefects saw through it immediately: it was just an elaborate act. None of it was real.


"Scarman, where's your backbone as a Perfect?" Carlo, the prefect, cursed, feeling a sense of shame. If he's doing this with a freshman, will I be his next challenge?


The fifth-year perfect had gone home, leaving no one else to take on Dyroth. If Carlo was next, it would be a disaster.


No, I can't let that happen! Carlo thought. Losing to a new student would make me the laughingstock of Hogwarts!


After several minutes of flashy but harmless exchanges, Scarman was disarmed, his wand flying from his hand. He graciously admitted defeat with a bow.


Dyroth calmly stowed away his wand and looked toward the perfect camp. Carlo broke into a cold sweat.


He's coming...


Just as Carlo was scrambling for an excuse to avoid fighting, Snape spoke up.


"Mr. Grindelwald! If you don't want your classmates to wake up feeling like slugs tomorrow, you'd better pay attention to the time."


Dyroth glanced at the clock and realized it was nearing midnight. Many of the first-years were already yawning.


As much as I'd like to continue, Snape has a point. If I push this too far, people will think I'm only out to show off, Dyroth thought.


This could damage his reputation—something that would hurt him in the long run.


"Sorry, Professor Snape."


"My apologies, everyone, for keeping you here so long."


Dyroth gave a deep bow in apology.


"It's okay, it's okay. The Perfect duels are like this every year," Carlo said hurriedly, seizing the opportunity to announce, "Today's battles are over! Everyone, back to your dorms!"


Carlo let out a long breath of relief. Looks like I'm safe for now. Thank goodness for Snape!


He knew that dueling a first-year would make him look foolish, no matter the outcome.


As the crowd dispersed, people were still buzzing about Dyroth's battle. His strength and elegance had made him a hero in the eyes of many young wizards. Some of the older students even boldly sent flirtatious glances his way.


But despite the attention, Dyroth remained cautious. It wasn't that the older girls weren't beautiful, but...


...I've got many things in school to plan—don't want to end up dead over a silly crush.


"Dyroth, come with me," Carlo said, easing Dyroth's discomfort. "I'll take you to the first-year perfect's dorm."


The independent room was a nice thing for Dyroth.


"This will be your private space from now on. You'll handle the matters for your grade here," Carlo said. "I'd recommend placing some protective spells on the door to prevent unwanted interruptions while you're studying."


"I understand. Thank you, Senior Carlo."


Carlo gave a few more instructions before leaving Dyroth alone in the spacious room.


Finally! Time to see how many achievement points I've accumulated!


Opening the system, he found that defeating the fourth-year Perfect had earned him another 400 achievement points, bringing his total to 1,500.


"System, begin the lottery!"


A selection of card packs appeared in midair, and Dyroth clicked on a few that caught his eye.


A burst of light filled the room, but there was only a single purple glow among the cards.


Of course, the good stuff is rare, Dyroth thought with a sigh.


[Congratulations! You have obtained: Reducto (Level 2), Lumos (Level 1), Lightning spell (Level 2), Ossio Dispersimus (Level 3), Trip Jinx (Level 2), Shield Charm (Level 3), Obliviate (Level 2), Episkey (Level 3), and Sandstorm Charm (Level 3).]


[Congratulations! You have obtained: Expelliarmus (Level 5).]


[Current remaining achievement points: 500.]


[Detected: Host has learned new spells. Would you like to initiate fusion?]


"Yes, fuse!"


A wave of knowledge washed over Dyroth, and the system chimed again.


[Host has exceptional talent with a super-magical level of understanding.]


[Reducto (Level 3), Trip Jinx (Level 3), Shield Charm (Level 4), Expelliarmus (Level 6).]


"My Shield Charm leveled up, and Expelliarmus is nearly at its highest tier—excellent!"


Dyroth decided to continue his lucky streak and drew five more card packs.


The usual sky-blue light appeared, but one of the packs glowed with a rare green light.


[Congratulations! You have obtained: Scourgify (Level 2), Aguamenti (Level 1), Protego totalum (Level 2), and Stupefy (Level 3).]


[Congratulations! You have obtained: Avada Kedavra (Level 3).]


[Current remaining achievement points: 0.]


[Detected: Host has learned new spells. Would you like to initiate fusion?]


"Yes, fuse!"


The fusion improved some lower-level spells, but Dyroth didn't mind. It's better than nothing.


"The Killing Curse.... not bad," Dyroth mused. "At least it's only at level three. A higher level would be risky."


Thanks to his knowledge from Vinda and Grindelwald, Dyroth was aware of how dangerous Dark Magic could be. The trick was maintaining clarity and checking in with himself often.


"It's getting late. Time for bed—early class tomorrow," Dyroth muttered, changing into his pajamas.


Just as he was about to drift off, he heard a light knock at the door.


"Dyroth? Are you awake?"


"Scarman?"


Dyroth remembered that Scarman had promised him a special gift. Opening the door, Scarman handed him a thin book with a sly grin.


"Brother, this has been my treasure for years."


Dyroth suspiciously opened the book and nearly choked when he saw what was inside.


"This... this is—"


"Shh! Keep it down!" Scarman whispered. "What do you think? My friend begged me for this and I wouldn't give it to him! We're even now, okay?"


"I hope you can still get out of bed tomorrow," Scarman added with a wink.


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


Dyroth muttered to himself, "I should have known better than to expect good things from these little brats."


He glanced at the magazine in his hand. "This? Any bikini will reveal more than this!" he scoffed, though, considering the more conservative nature of the era, he decided to just stuff it under his pillow and get some sleep.


He slept soundly.


However, elsewhere in the castle, someone wasn't able to sleep...


---


In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat in silence, holding several pieces of parchment. He read them over and over again, his hands trembling, revealing the turmoil in his heart.


"Gellert... I'm sorry. I never expected your life would turn out like this," Dumbledore whispered to himself. His voice was laden with regret. "If I had known... If I could have changed things..."


He leaned back in his chair, feeling utterly defeated, as though all his strength had been sapped. In this moment, he was not the mighty wizard revered by so many but just an old man, longing for the company of lost friends and loved ones.


After a long while, he broke his silence, his voice barely audible.


"You've truly left me with an impossible dilemma." His eyes shimmered with old pain. "This boy... he's exactly like you once were... No, even better than you were back then!"


Dumbledore's hands clenched the letter tightly. "What am I supposed to do, Gellert?"


---


At the same time, far away in the towering fortress of Nurmengard


An old man with white hair and piercing eyes lay back in a recliner, bathing in the moonlight, enjoying a peaceful night under the stars.


---


The next morning, Dyroth awoke earlier than he'd wanted. Resigned, he freshened up and headed for the Hogwarts Great Hall.


As he entered the hall, he waved briefly to Draco and the others before making his way toward Carlo and the Slytherins.


"Dyroth !" A voice called from the Gryffindor table. Harry waved energetically at his friend.


"Harry, relax," Dyroth replied with a chuckle. "Now's not the time for best-friend greetings!"


Percy, seated nearby, interjected, "He's right, Harry. This is serious business!"


"Why?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.


Fred and George Weasley suddenly appeared, shoving Ron aside. "Every year, on the night of the freshman admissions, Slytherin holds a duel to determine the freshman perfect," George explained, excitement evident in his voice.


Fred continued, "The top freshman competes in a ranking battle with upperclassmen, and the results get announced the next day, right here in the Great Hall."


Fred pointed discreetly toward the professors' table. "Even the professors are paying attention."


Harry noticed Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick whispering, their eyes frequently flicking toward the Slytherin table.


Fred sighed, "But your good friend is so strong that even trolls know he'll be the Slytherin perfect." He made a funny face, causing a ripple of laughter among the students.


"I wonder if there'll be any shake-ups in the rankings this year?" George mused aloud.


Fred nodded. "Dyroth is a powerhouse. I heard Diderot had to stay in the hospital wing overnight after facing him."


Fred then turned to Ron, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Care to make a bet, Ron?"


Ron eyed his brothers warily, remembering how many times they had tricked him before. "What's the bet?"


Fred grinned. "Let's bet on what position Dyroth will reach in the rankings. If you win, I'll write your potions homework for the week."


Ron frowned. "And if I lose?"


"Just let me borrow Scabbers for a couple of days," Fred replied innocently.


Ron clutched his pockets. "Just for two days? Are you sure?"


Fred smiled widely. "Absolutely. Just two days."


Percy, sitting nearby, coughed pointedly, reminding them he was still listening.


Ron, suspicious of his brothers' motives, kept his hand firmly over his pocket. He knew Fred and George's history with "borrowing" pets for their experiments.


But Fred and George were relentless. "Think about it, Ron," Fred coaxed. "That's a whole week of free time! And if I help with your potions homework, you'll get big O's on all your assignments. Imagine the envy of your classmates when you show off your grades!"


Ron glanced at Dyroth , now walking toward the Slytherin table, then remembered Fred's comment about Diderot spending the night in the hospital wing. A sly grin spread across his face.


This time, I'll win!


He slapped the table confidently. "Alright, deal!" Ron declared. "I bet Dyroth will stop at the second-year position."


"You can't choose the same as me!" Ron added quickly, catching onto Fred's usual tricks.


Fred and George exchanged knowing glances, barely suppressing their grins.


"Of course!" they chorused. "We bet Dyroth will make it to third-year!"


They turned to Harry. "Harry, you be the notary!"


"Uh… okay," Harry agreed hesitantly, not wanting to get caught up in another Weasley prank.


---


Meanwhile, Dyroth remained oblivious to their discussion as he walked straight toward Carlo's seat at the Slytherin table. A hush fell over the hall as students and professors watched intently, curious to see how far he'd go.


At the professor's table, McGonagall and Flitwick were also watching.


"Where do you think Dyroth will place?" McGonagall asked, her eyes focused on the Slytherin table.


Professor Flitwick pondered for a moment. "Well, I've heard from one of the Ravenclaw students that he performed a Summoning Charm flawlessly during the train ride. Quite impressive for a first-year."


McGonagall nodded. "He seems exceptionally talented."


"I'd say he'll make it to third year," Flitwick continued. "He's young, and while his skills are advanced, his magical reserves are still limited."


---


Dyroth continued walking past the first-year perfect's seat, then past the second-year perfect's seat. Gasps and murmurs spread through the hall.


Ron's confident grin faltered.


"Third year! He's still going!" Harry exclaimed.


Dyroth passed the third-year seat without stopping.


"Is this real? A first-year can't be this strong!" one student whispered in disbelief.


"Where is Slytherin's head of house in all this?" another questioned.


The hall fell silent as Dyroth finally reached the seat across from Carlo, the second-ranking student in Slytherin, stopping only at the seat below the absent sixth-year perfect.


Everyone stared in stunned silence. Could it be? Could a first-year really be this powerful?


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[false_truth]

(I will start releasing advanced chapters of this novel on Patreon. there is 10 chapters for now but will become 30 advanced chapter by the end of this month.)


(Check my other fanfiction of Reverend Insanity , and if you didn't read RI then go read it, RI is one of the highest creation in the novels world.)


patreon.com/false_truth


---


"Hey, senior, why aren't you talking?"
"Don't you like to talk?"


Hermione pretended to be very confused.


From the moment Dyroth walked in, people had been making clever guesses. Their analysis concluded that it would be an achievement if Dyroth could reach third year! Fourth year? Don't even think about it!


This made Hermione, a big fan of Dyroth, extremely dissatisfied! But now, Dyroth had given them all a slap in the face with his actions! Their earlier confidence had now turned into disappointment.


Cho Chang, sitting next to her, covered her mouth and snickered. Not far away, at the Gryffindor table, the Weasley twins—who had also been caught off guard—looked equally stunned.


"This bet... who wins?" Harry scratched his head and looked at the twins. Both of their mouths were hanging open.


They had thought Dyroth was strong, but they hadn't expected him to be 'this' strong! A first-year had outclassed all the fifth-year students who were about to take their O.W.L.s. Is this even humanly possible?


Ron saw an opportunity and snatched his pet rat back.
"Gotcha!"
---


At the professors' table, Professor Flitwick was practically dancing in excitement.


"Genius! I can't believe a first-year could reach this level! I'm looking forward to seeing his performance in Charms class!"


"I just hope this boy's Transfiguration skills are as impressive as his magical talent."


"Don't worry, Minerva," Professor Flitwick said, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his clothes caused by his excitement. "Even though I haven't had much contact with him, I can tell he's a very sharp child."


"A child like this will recognize the importance of Transfiguration immediately!"


"I hope so," Professor McGonagall said with mixed feelings. As a teacher, a talented student was as exciting to her as a great Quidditch match. She looked forward to seeing Dyroth's abilities, but she also worried that his talent was limited to Charms, and that he knew nothing about Transfiguration.


Expectations and concerns battled in Professor McGonagall's mind, and she kept glancing at Dyroth from behind.


---


At the Slytherin table:


"Alright, everyone, listen up," Dyroth said, standing up. "After this, some of the seniors and I will help the first-years find their classrooms, so they don't lose points for getting lost."


"I hope you can all make some time for this."


"Alright, prefect!"


"Let's get ready. If you haven't brought your textbooks, go grab them from the dormitory. We'll head to the first classroom in ten minutes."


Dyroth waved his hand, signaling everyone to get ready. By the time he led the Slytherins to the Transfiguration classroom, many of the Gryffindors were already seated. A group of them were laughing and chatting, oblivious to the tabby cat sitting on the podium.


"Dyroth, Goyle, Crabbe and I will go sit at the back and take a nap," Draco yawned as he spoke to Dyroth. Many Slytherin first-years were just like him, having stayed up chatting in the dormitory the previous night.


Just as Draco finished speaking, Dyroth noticed the cat on the podium glaring at them. That's when Dyroth remembered: this tabby cat was Professor McGonagall's Animagus form!


Old cat lady!


Suppressing any other distracting thoughts, Dyroth walked to the podium and saluted the cat. Then, he led Draco to sit in the first row.


Draco, puzzled, asked, "Dyroth, that cat..."


"That's Professor McGonagall," Dyroth whispered, "There are currently only seven registered Animagi in the British Ministry of Magic, and Professor McGonagall is one of them. Look at the markings around her eyes—don't they look like her glasses?"


"It really is her!" Draco's legs went weak at the realization. He had been about to pet the cat! If Dyroth hadn't been blocking him, he might have done it. Thank goodness he didn't! Who knows how many points McGonagall would've deducted from Slytherin.


---


"Squeak!"


At that moment, a red-haired head poked in through the door. After scanning the room, Ron let out a sigh of relief and walked in, panting.


"Oh, thank Merlin, we made it!"


"If Professor McGonagall had seen us, her face would've been terrifying!"


Ron and Harry found seats, still catching their breath, when the tabby cat on the podium suddenly leaped into the air and transformed into Professor McGonagall, standing there in her dark green robes with a serious expression.


"That transformation was amazing!" Ron's eyes almost popped out of his head as he stepped back in awe.


"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said coldly.


"Perhaps I should turn you and Mr. Potter into pocket watches. That way, at least one of you might learn to keep time."


"We got lost!" Harry protested.


"Then maybe I should turn you into a map?" McGonagall replied dryly. "Now, find your seats, unless you need help with that as well."


Before Ron and Harry could sit down, McGonagall added, "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I must deduct five points from each of you for being late. I hope that helps you remember to be punctual next time."


"And Mr. Grindelwald!"


When she mentioned Dyroth, McGonagall's tone softened noticeably.


"You were the first and only first-year student to recognize me in Animagus form. It's clear that you've studied Transfiguration in depth and observe things closely."


"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Dyroth responded with a smile.


"Five points to Slytherin for your sharp observation," McGonagall nodded approvingly as she walked to the podium.


"Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," McGonagall began her lecture. "If anyone causes trouble in my class, I will ask them to leave and never return. You have been warned."


"Now, take out your wands and textbooks, and I'll show you what true Transfiguration looks like."


With a wave of her wand, McGonagall transformed the podium into a pig, causing the class to gasp in awe.


But Dyroth's thoughts were elsewhere. As he looked at the small, white pig in front of him, he couldn't help but fall into deep thought...


.


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[false_truth]

---


In Transfiguration, basic deformation techniques allow you to change the shape of an object, but not its essence. For instance, last night, Dyroth had turned broken wood into birds and buttons into venomous snakes during his duel with Alexia.


However, while they appeared impressive, he knew the truth — they were still wood and buttons, only in a different form. Unlike Professor McGonagall's transformations, where a pig turned from a desk acted and moved as if it were a real, living creature, Dyroth's conjurations lacked that life-like quality.


As Dyroth observed quietly, Professor McGonagall noticed his thoughtful expression. She admired how quickly he grasped the important details of Transfiguration, a talent she seldom found in first-year students. However, as the professor for all Hogwarts students, she couldn't focus solely on Dyroth.


"Alright, young wizards," Professor McGonagall said, addressing the class. "Transfiguration is far more complex than you think. Today, we'll be learning to transform a matchstick into a silver needle."


She handed out matchsticks to the students and carefully demonstrated the technique — the wand movements, the focus, the precise gestures. Only after ensuring everyone understood did she give them permission to try.


"The key," she reminded, "is not to rush. Follow the steps in order."


Excitement filled the room as the students eagerly waved their wands. However, despite their efforts, most found little success. The matchsticks remained unchanged.


"Dyroth, can you check why my wand isn't doing anything?" Draco called out in frustration. But when he glanced at Dyroth's table, he froze.


To his astonishment, the silver needle on Dyroth's desk was constantly changing forms — from a pig to a needle and back again. Even more bizarre, the piglet's legs were thin, elongated like silver needles!


"Dyroth!" Professor McGonagall gasped, her eyes wide with alarm. She quickly dispelled the transformations with a flick of her wand.


Dyroth blinked, about to offer an explanation, but Professor McGonagall's stern voice interrupted him. "Dyroth, have you forgotten the rules? No experiments outside of what I've instructed."


"I apologize, Professor," Dyroth said, bowing his head. "I had completed the task and was trying to understand how to make the transformation more like yours — a real pig, not just a changed form."


Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered with surprise. She hadn't expected Dyroth to comprehend such an advanced concept so quickly.


"You're trying to understand the nature of the transformation," she murmured, intrigued.


"Yes, Professor. I can change the appearance, but I can't infuse life into it, like you did."


"Mr. Grindelwald," McGonagall said softly, her stern expression giving way to a hint of admiration. "Your grasp of Transfiguration is beyond what I anticipated."


Though she had expected Dyroth to excel, she had not imagined that in his first year, he would already be contemplating the deeper mysteries of Transfiguration — the very essence of objects, and even the level of the soul.


Her expression softened. "What you're speaking of touches on the core of advanced Transfiguration. To change wood into flesh, you must understand the essential difference between the two. This is not something you can achieve yet, but in time, you may. For now, practice transforming wood into stone or iron. It will help you build the foundation."


Dyroth nodded. "I understand, Professor. Thank you for your guidance."


McGonagall's eyes gleamed with pride, as though she had discovered a rare and precious gem. "If you're interested, Mr. Grindelwald, you may attend the Transfiguration Club on Sunday mornings. I'll explain the more advanced principles there."


"I'd love that! Thank you, Professor!"


Her face grew serious once more. "However, for your actions today, I must deduct five points from Slytherin for breaking classroom rules."


Dyroth nodded, accepting the punishment.


"But," she added with a small smile, "you've also earned five points for Slytherin for your exceptional transformation."


The Slytherins cheered as Dyroth smiled modestly. He appreciated McGonagall's fairness — clear rules and balanced rewards.


"Mr. Grindelwald," McGonagall said, "could you assist your classmates in completing today's task?"


"With pleasure, Professor," Dyroth agreed.


Draco immediately grabbed his arm. "Dyroth, help me first! My matchstick won't budge!"


"Alright," Dyroth said, watching as Draco tried again. "Stop there. I see your issue."


"What is it?" Draco asked eagerly.


"Draco, magic responds to your belief. You need to truly see the matchstick as a silver needle in your mind for the transformation to work," Dyroth explained patiently.


As he demonstrated the wand movements again, other Slytherin students, including Pansy, Daphne, and Theodore, gathered around, each eager to improve. With Dyroth's guidance, they soon began to make progress. The matches on their desks gradually sharpened, inching closer to becoming silver needles.


Seeing the rapid improvements of Slytherin, several Gryffindor students hesitated before joining the circle. Dyroth welcomed them, offering advice without any bias, much to Professor McGonagall's quiet approval.


Harry watched from a distance. "Maybe we should ask Dyroth for help," he suggested.


Ron immediately scoffed. "What, ask a Slytherin? You can't trust them. His father's a dark wizard, and he's probably just as bad, Right?"


Seamus Finnigan, returning from getting advice from Dyroth, barely heard Ron's complaint and simply nodded absentmindedly, too focused on his newly transformed matchstick.


By the end of the lesson, nearly every student had seen noticeable improvement, with many now holding sharpened matchsticks or partial silver needles in their hands.


Except for Harry and Ron. Their matches remained as stubbornly unchanged as before.


.


.


.

 

[false_truth]

...


The students of Slytherin were in high spirits as they descended the moving staircases of Hogwarts Castle.


Their excitement wasn't solely because of Dyroth earning extra points in class, but more so due to the unexpected scene of several Gryffindors—Slytherin's age-old rivals—seeking Dyroth's advice.


And it wasn't just one Gryffindor; there were several!


This filled the Slytherin students with pride. They strutted ahead of the Gryffindors with an air of arrogance.


"Alright, let's stop talking about it now," Dyroth reminded them, sounding a little tired.


Draco, however, was on his third retelling of how awkward the Gryffindors had looked earlier. "Come on, Dyroth, you should have seen their faces! They were dying to say thank you but just couldn't! Hilarious!"


Draco was just about to go into more detail when suddenly, a strange figure appeared overhead, making him jump.


"Hehehe! What do we have here? Gryffindors and Slytherins walking together? Hahaha!"


It was Peeves, the castle's mischievous poltergeist, floating above their heads in his brightly colored clothes and hat. His tattered slippers flapped as he moved, revealing his grimy toes. Laughing maniacally, Peeves hurled a water balloon straight at the group.


"Shield!" Dyroth reacted instantly, casting a protective barrier that blocked the incoming splash. The Slytherins were safe, but the Gryffindors behind them weren't so lucky.


Seeing that his prank hadn't landed on the Slytherins, Peeves cackled and turned his attention to the Gryffindors, bombarding them with more water balloons. The Gryffindors yelped and cursed at Peeves.


"Get lost, Peeves!"


"I'm telling Professor McGonagall about this!"


Dyroth frowned slightly. Peeves, as recorded in Hogwarts: A History, was impossible to deal with. Attempts had been made in the past to get rid of him, but they had failed miserably. Peeves had even stolen a cannon at one point, causing havoc. In the end, the headmaster had reluctantly given Peeves the freedom to continue his antics, as long as they didn't go too far.


Dyroth sighed, knowing Peeves wasn't worth the trouble. "Let's keep moving. Once we get to the Potions classroom, he won't dare cause any more problems." He stretched the barrier above them to cover as many students as possible.


Suddenly, a scream pierced the air.


At the back of the Gryffindor group, a girl had lost her balance while dodging a water balloon and had slipped on the moving staircase. The stairs had shifted without her noticing, and now she was plummeting toward the ground.


"Help!" Another Gryffindor girl tried to grab her, but her strength alone wasn't enough. The girl was falling fast!


"Wingardium Leviosa!" Dyroth's voice rang out. (it's The Levitation Charm)


An invisible force caught the girl mid-fall, and she began to float gently back up to the staircase. Dyroth dashed forward, controlling her descent until he caught her safely in his arms as the spell wore off.


"Are you hurt?" he asked.


The girl, who had squeezed her eyes shut in fear, opened them slowly and realized she was safe. Overcome with relief, she slumped to the ground, her legs too weak to support her.


"Parvati!" The girl who had tried to help rushed over, tears streaming down her face, and hugged Parvati tightly.


Only then did Dyroth recognize the two girls—twins, nearly identical. One of them was Parvati Patil, the Gryffindor student from the Harry Potter books.


Dyroth's eyes narrowed slightly. Parvati Patil... the future Triwizard Tournament ball partner of Harry Potter himself. He found himself wondering if saving her today might affect things between them in the future.


"Padma, I'm fine," Parvati reassured her sister, standing shakily before bowing to Dyroth. "Thank you, Mr. Grindelwald. You saved my life!"


Padma hugged him tightly as well, her voice trembling with gratitude. "If my sister had died, I wouldn't have wanted to live either. I'll never forget what you've done, Mr. Grindelwald!"


Dyroth smiled slightly and patted her back. "It was nothing. I couldn't let a beautiful young lady fall to her death right in front of me."


The other Gryffindors were buzzing with praise.


"Did you see how fast Dyroth reacted? I couldn't even see who was falling before his spell saved her!"


"Yeah! If he wasn't here, Parvati would've definitely gotten hurt!"


"If she fell from that height... it wouldn't just be a few bruises. She'd be in serious trouble!"


First, Dyroth had gone out of his way to help them in Transfiguration class, ignoring the usual rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Now, he had saved one of their own. It was becoming impossible for the Gryffindors not to admire the Slytherin prefect.


"Oh no! Peeves, what have you done?" came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice. The Gryffindor Head of House had arrived, and she was furious. Pointing her wand at Peeves, she prepared to chase him off, but Peeves, realizing he was in trouble, disappeared into the nearest wall with a cackle.


Seeing Parvati still shaken, Professor McGonagall rushed over. "Miss Patil, are you alright? I think we should get you to Madam Pomfrey, just to be sure."


Peeves had gone too far this time. Professor McGonagall was livid. "I'm going straight to Professor Dumbledore about this!"


"I'm fine, Professor," Parvati said, calming herself down. "Mr. Grindelwald saved me."


Professor McGonagall turned to Dyroth, her face softening with gratitude. "Mr. Grindelwald, thank you for your bravery. On behalf of Gryffindor, I'm deeply grateful." She paused for a moment, then continued, "For your actions, I'm awarding Slytherin twenty points."


Twenty points!


Gasps of surprise rippled through the students. Winning a Quidditch match only awarded 150 points, and that was a team effort after an entire school year of practice. Yet Dyroth had earned Slytherin twenty points in just one class!


But no one objected. Dyroth clearly deserved it.


"Alright, young wizards, you'd better get to class. You wouldn't want Professor Snape to get angry with you for being late," Professor McGonagall said, her voice stern again.


She glanced at Parvati once more, and though the girl claimed to be fine, McGonagall still insisted on taking her to the hospital wing. Parvati threw a last glance at Dyroth as she and her twin walked away, clearly reluctant to leave.


As the group continued to the Potions classroom, their thoughts were still filled with admiration for Dyroth Grindelwald—the Slytherin who had not only impressed them in class but had also saved a life.


.


.


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[false_truth]

...


The Potions classroom at Hogwarts was located at the bottom of the castle, an eerie and dim place that matched Professor Snape's ominous presence. As he entered the room with a loud boom, the heavy atmosphere only intensified. No one dared to breathe too loudly, not even Ron, who was usually the most talkative.


Snape strode to the front, his robes billowing behind him, and with a wave of his wand, the windows slammed shut, making the already dark room feel even more claustrophobic.


"In my class, you are not allowed to wave your wands or recite spells," Snape began, his voice cold. "I don't expect many of you to appreciate the profound science and precise craftsmanship of Potions."


His gaze swept the room, his hawk-like eyes narrowing. "Since there is no silly wand-waving here, some of you may not believe this is magic. But I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stop death itself—if you're not the dunderheads I usually encounter."


He placed one hand on the podium, his eyes flashing with disdain.


As Snape continued his speech, Harry sat silently at his desk, scribbling something down and not paying attention. Without Hermione's usual prompting, he missed the warning signs in Snape's body language, the cold fury in his eyes.


"Mr. Potter!"


Harry jumped, startled at the sound of his name. Laughter rippled through the classroom as Snape loomed over him, glaring.


"Tell me, Potter, what would happen if I added narcissus bulb powder to a draught of absinthe stem liquid?"


Harry stared back, dumbfounded. "I... I don't know."


Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "I see fame isn't everything. Let's try something simpler: where would you find a bezoar?"


Harry shook his head again, his embarrassment growing under Snape's gaze. "I don't know, Professor."


"And what's the difference between aconite and wolfsbane?"


"No... I don't know that either."


Snape let out a soft, derisive laugh. "Clearly, you have a lot to learn, Mr. Potter. Five points from Gryffindor for your ignorance and insolence." He turned away, his gaze landing on Dyroth Grindelwald.


"Mr. Grindelwald, perhaps you can enlighten our 'savior' and answer the question."


Dyroth stood up calmly, unfazed by Snape's sarcasm. "Narcissus bulb powder added to absinthe stem liquid, when heated, produces the Decoction of Living Death, also known as the Water of Life and Death. Bezoars can be found in the stomachs of goats, and aconite and wolfsbane are two names for the same plant."


Snape didn't even glance back, though his tone grew colder. "Correct. Five points to Slytherin." His voice dropped. "But if I see that smug grin again, Mr. Grindelwald, I won't hesitate to remove you from my classroom."


Dyroth sat down, his expression neutral, though the tension between him and Snape was there.


Potions class continued, with Snape instructing them on the proper handling of dried nettles and snake fangs. The students were paired off for their brewing, Slytherins with Slytherins, and Gryffindors with Gryffindors. Dyroth, partnered with Draco, watched as Ron and Seamus teamed up. A sense of foreboding crept over him.


He remembered the disaster that occurred when Neville botched his potion in the original timeline, though Neville wasn't here this time. But Seamus... Dyroth had a bad feeling.


He nudged Draco, pulling him to the corner of the classroom. "Let's stay out of trouble, just in case."


Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. The Cure for Boils Potion wasn't particularly difficult to brew, and the two of them worked through it efficiently, moving through the steps with ease.


"Well, well," Snape's voice echoed across the classroom. "It seems our Slytherin prefect isn't as helpful as his reputation suggests." His eyes gleamed with mockery as he glanced at Dyroth .


Dyroth shrugged. "I thought I'd give others the opportunity to improve."


Snape smirked, his face tightening in disapproval. But before he could respond, a loud bang echoed through the room.


A green, acidic potion exploded violently from Ron and Seamus's table, spraying everywhere. The corrosive liquid hissed as it ate through wood and stone, and screams erupted as nearby students were splattered with the substance.


Snape, closest to the blast, was drenched. His face twisted in fury, his voice booming. "IDIOTS!"


But the chaos didn't stop there. The explosion caused several cauldrons to tip over, and the flames beneath them spread rapidly. Soon, the entire classroom was in pandemonium, with students scrambling to avoid both the flames and the spreading acid.


"Aguamenti!"


Dyroth quickly cast a spell, sending jets of water from his wand to extinguish the flames. A second spell from him cleared the debris, restoring a semblance of order to the ruined classroom.


"Everyone who isn't hurt, help the injured to the hospital wing!" Dyroth ordered, taking charge as students started assisting their classmates.


Dyroth smiled. Thinking "I knew something would go wrong. Even without Neville, Ron and Seamus were bound to mess things up."


Snape, soaked and furious, stalked over to Dyroth, his face livid. "Grindelwald," he growled, "if you look at me with that smirk again, I'll take great pleasure in removing your eyeballs."


His attention then snapped to Ron and Seamus. "Weasley! Finnigan! You'd better have a good explanation for your stupidity, or I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of your life!"


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Advanced chapters:

patreon.com/false_truth

 

[false_truth]

(Please comment or do anything so I can know there is still people want this novel)


...


Originally, Neville was supposed to be paired with Seamus, and Harry with Ron. However, Neville had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and when Ron saw how Snape targeted Harry, he decided to team up with Seamus out of fear.


Harry ended up with their other roommate.


But is Seamus's title as a demolition genius a joke? He and Ron, who combined hadn't read a single page of the Potions textbook, relied purely on intuition to get through the lesson.


The result? They blew up their cauldron!


Not only did they cover themselves in boils, screaming in agony, but they also managed to affect several students nearby—including Snape, who had planned to make Harry's life difficult. He now bore several scars on his neck, partially hidden beneath his black robe.


"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Finnigan, ten points from Gryffindor for your outstanding efforts!" Snape's voice was colder than ever. "Why hasn't anyone taken these two fools to the hospital wing yet?"


Then, his gaze shifted to Harry, who stood closest to the scene.


"Mr. Potter, you were nearby. Why didn't you stop them from making a mess?"


Harry blinked in confusion. "What did this have to do with me?"


"Do you think letting your classmates bungle things makes you look better, Mr. Savior?" Snape sneered. "Five more points from Gryffindor for your ego!"


Harry was speechless but, seeing Ron and Seamus groaning in pain, chose to escort them to the hospital wing rather than argue.


And so, Gryffindor lost a hefty chunk of house points on the very first day, courtesy of being the protagonist's house.


As Dyroth watched Harry's frustration, he sighed. "If only you'd been born a girl, Snape might single-handedly defeat Voldemort for you."


Dyroth chuckled at the thought, imagining Harry as a girl.


Snape: "Miss Potter, what happens when you mix daffodil bulb powder with absinthe stem extract?"


Harley: "I don't know, Professor."


Snape: "Ah, five points from Gryffindor for your honesty."


---


By the time Dyroth made his way to the Great Hall, many students were already seated at their respective House tables.


Seeing him approach, Hermione waved enthusiastically. "Dyroth!"


"Ah, the clever Miss Granger," Dyroth greeted with a smile. "I hear you earned a lot of points for Ravenclaw during Charms class today."


After the results of the duel from last night were publicly known, Dyroth no longer felt the need to sit at the head table. He slid into a seat beside Hermione at the Ravenclaw table. Several Ravenclaw girls adjusted their robes and scooted closer to him, though they tried to do so subtly.


Hermione, momentarily smug, then frowned. "But during Potions, Snape didn't award me any points! Instead, he... he lectured me!" She grimaced, recalling his exact words.


"He probably said something like this," Dyroth teased, imitating Snape's tone: "Miss Granger, do you think raising your hand constantly makes you smarter than everyone else?"


Hermione lightly punched his arm, though she couldn't help but smile.


As they ate and chatted, a sudden burst of birdsong came from the ceiling, followed by a flurry of owls swooping down with letters and parcels.


Two newspapers dropped in front of Dyroth, drawing Hermione's attention.


"Do you read those too?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you—"


"—memorized everything from textbooks? Is that what you think?" Dyroth smirked, making Hermione blush slightly. She'd been working extra hard since discovering Dyroth could memorize third-year textbooks with ease, spending nearly all her time outside class buried in study.


As Dyroth finished his meal, a headline from the *Daily Prophet* caught his eye:


"Gringotts Wizarding Bank was Attacked! Suspected Dark Wizard Activity!"


Though the goblins claimed nothing was stolen, Dyroth's eyes gleamed. 'Voldemort has finally made his move.'


He had been waiting for this moment. Unlike Dumbledore, who obstructed, or the Ministry, which was too afraid to act, Dyroth needed Voldemort back as soon as possible. He needed the Dark Lord's presence to draw attention away from himself and the Saints, to buy time.


Yet, Dyroth didn't intend for Voldemort's resurrection to go as smoothly as it had in the original timeline. 'It must happen under my control.'


Gringotts was a key part of the plan. One of Voldemort's Horcruxes—Hufflepuff's golden cup—was hidden deep in the Lestrange vault. Neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore would allow it to remain there untouched.


As the attacks on Gringotts continued, it would only be a matter of time before wizards lost faith in the bank's security. Even if nothing was stolen, constant breaches would erode confidence. Wizards would no longer feel safe entrusting their treasures to Gringotts.


Dyroth had coveted the wealth stored within Gringotts for years. But breaking into the Lestrange vault wasn't a simple task—it was heavily enchanted. Only Harry, as a fellow Horcrux, or Voldemort himself could bypass those defenses.


For now, it was better to target another Horcrux.


---


Elsewhere, Harry also saw the news in the *Daily Prophet*, though his attention was fixated on the vault that had been attacked. Without Hermione's guidance, Harry and Ron bumbled through wild theories but failed to piece anything together.


---


In the afternoon, Draco, seemingly in high spirits, darted ahead of Dyroth with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.


"Did he drink too much pumpkin juice?" Dyroth muttered.


"The first lesson after lunch is flying," Pansy chimed in, shaking her head. "Draco's been looking forward to it all day."


Dyroth sighed, disinterested. Like Pansy, he found Quidditch far less exciting than others.


He followed the rest of the Slytherins to the flying lesson, resigned to the afternoon ahead.


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Rolanda Hooch was a woman with eagle-sharp eyes. Her neat, short hair and golden pupils gave her a stern, no-nonsense appearance. As the flying instructor at Hogwarts and the referee for Quidditch matches, her reputation preceded her.


"Good afternoon, students!" she called.


"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hooch!" the students chorused back.


Mrs. Hooch swiftly made her way through the groups of Slytherins and Gryffindors assembled on the lawn.


"The first flying lesson begins now," she said, briskly. "What are you waiting for? Everyone, stand to the left of your broomsticks! Quickly now!"


Most of the first-year students were seeing broomsticks up close for the first time. They obediently lined up as instructed, standing to the left of their brooms. However, Dyroth couldn't help but wonder why flying lessons were still a must.


Back in the old days, it made sense when magical transport was limited. But now? There were magic buses, and even elevators in the Ministry of Magic. Why did anyone still need to fly around on a broomstick?


Despite his internal complaints, Dyroth knew he couldn't convince the school to change its system. He stood with the others, resigned to his fate, while Mrs. Hooch continued her instructions.


"Place your hand over your broom and say, 'Up!'"


"Up!" echoed through the field.


Harry was the first to successfully summon his broom with ease, the handle leaping straight into his palm. Draco Malfoy followed shortly after, showing his own natural aptitude.


Dyroth, however, quickly discovered something troubling.


When it came to talent points, it seemed that flying wasn't in his cards. No matter how loudly he yelled, the broom beneath him didn't budge. His voice was starting to go hoarse, and yet nothing happened.


Around him, classmates were already standing with brooms in hand, while his own stayed stubbornly on the ground. The realization hit them— Dyroth might just be the first Hogwarts student in history who couldn't ride a broomstick.


But surprisingly, Dyroth wasn't upset. On the contrary, he saw this as an opportunity. He could use this as an excuse to skip future flying lessons and spend more time in the library.


"Mr. Grindelwald..." Mrs. Hooch's voice broke through his thoughts, sounding both concerned and puzzled.


"As you can see, Mrs. Hooch," Dyroth shrugged, raising his hands in surrender. "I don't think I have any talent for flying."


"Poor child!" Mrs. Hooch sighed sympathetically, patting him on the head. "Don't worry too much. You're not the first to have difficulty with flying. Why don't you rest on the lawn for now? I'll discuss with Professor Snape about allowing you to attend other classes during flying time."


"Thank you, Mrs. Hooch," Dyroth replied, his expression neutral, though inside he was celebrating his small victory. He had been looking for a way to avoid this class, and it had practically fallen into his lap.


"Go on now," Mrs. Hooch encouraged. "Take a rest."


Dyroth cheerfully headed toward the grass, lying down with his fifth-year Potions textbook. As the warm sun bathed him, he opened the book, already immersing himself in its contents.


"Everyone! Quiet!" Mrs. Hooch called out. "Now, mount your brooms. Hold on tight. As soon as I blow the whistle, kick off the ground and fly into the air!"


The lesson proceeded without incident. Neville didn't have his usual mishap, and there was no quarrel between Draco and Harry. Everything went smoothly, and Mrs. Hooch seemed pleased as she watched her students hover in the air.


"Now," she announced, "I'll be heading to the castle to fetch something. Feel free to enjoy your flying, but only on this lawn! If anyone crosses the boundary, there will be consequences!"


The young wizards took her words to heart, eagerly engaging in flying games. Nearby, the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma, wobbled unsteadily on their brooms, their eyes filled with concern as they watched Dyroth lying peacefully on the grass.


"Dyroth, are you alright?" Parvati asked, cautiously dismounting her broom.


Dyroth looked up from his book and cast a quick Levitation Charm to stabilize the girls.


"I'm fine," he reassured them with a smile. "If I can't ride a broomstick, so what? I'll just learn to Apparate earlier. Besides, Hogwarts isn't going to kick me out just because I can't fly, right?"


The two girls giggled at his joke.


"You're the professors' favorite," Parvati said with admiration. "They'd never let you go."


As Dyroth continued to read, other students began to gather around, offering their own reassurances.


"Dyroth, it's okay if you can't fly. You've got other ways to get around, like Floo powder or Apparition!"


"Yeah, brooms are inconvenient anyway. They don't even protect you from rain! Imagine getting stuck in a storm mid-flight!"


"My uncle's friend nearly got struck by lightning once while flying. He barely made it to safety!"


Dyroth acknowledged their comforting words with a smile. The sight of everyone coming together to support him attracted Ron's attention — and his envy.


Why was everyone comforting Dyroth while he, Ron, was constantly being scolded for his own mistakes? It wasn't fair. His jealousy boiled over, and he muttered under his breath, "Traitors... All of you Gryffindor traitors."


Draco overheard him and was instantly furious. "What did you say, Weasley?" he snapped, storming toward Ron.


Ron, equally angry, squared off with Draco. "Isn't it obvious? You're all falling for his act. He's just pretending to be nice!"


Ron's jealousy had been simmering ever since the train ride to Hogwarts. He couldn't stand how Dyroth, another new student, attracted so much attention and respect. And now, seeing everyone flock to comfort Dyroth, he couldn't hold back his bitterness.


But his words didn't win him any allies. Instead, they only earned him disapproving glares — even from his own best friend, Harry.


"Ron, Dyroth saved our classmates! He's a friend to Gryffindor!"


"Yeah, sure. Who knows if he's just pretending?"


Dyroth smiled gently, not bothering to respond to Ron's outburst. He knew better than to get angry over the jealous rant of a child. After all, what adult would waste time getting angry with a kid seeking attention?


Ron's face flushed with frustration, his jealousy twisting his features into a grimace. Ignoring Harry's attempts to stop him, Ron mounted his broom and charged directly at Dyroth.


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Ron snatched away the textbook that Dyroth had placed on the ground, riding on his broomstick with a proud expression. It seemed that taking something from Dyroth gave him a sense of accomplishment.


"Mr. Weasley, I advise you to put it down," Dyroth's cold voice sounded. "Otherwise, I guarantee you will regret what you've done!"


He didn't want to act childish, but Ron repeatedly provoked him. Dyroth had no intention of holding back anymore.


Ron shuddered, shrinking in fear at Dyroth's tone. But with so many people watching, he gritted his teeth and held on for the sake of pride. "Who cares about a book?" he sneered. "Come and get it if you can!"


With that, he shot off on his broom, flying into the distance.


"Weasley, stop!" Draco called, grabbing his own broom and taking off in pursuit.


Fueled by inner anger and Draco's superior flying talent, he quickly closed the gap between them. Even though he started late, Draco's skill gave him the advantage.


"Weasley, you really disgrace your family!" Draco shouted, his voice filled with contempt.


"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron snapped back. "Your father's a Death Eater, and you're bound to follow in his footsteps! You're just as disgusting as that friend of yours!"


"What did you say?! Say it again if you dare!"


"A dark wizard's friend is a dark wizard! You're all rotten!" Ron yelled, fueling Draco's rage.


Draco's face flushed red with anger, and he surged forward, determined to catch up. The two were so engrossed in their chase that they completely ignored Madam Hooch's earlier warnings, flying higher and farther away from the castle.


But Draco's flying talent far outmatched Ron's. Among their classmates, only Harry Potter could rival Draco in the air. In no time, Draco was right on Ron's tail, reaching out to grab him.


"Weasley, stop this now!"


Ron twisted and struggled to get away, their broomsticks wobbling dangerously as they flew. The students below gasped in shock.


"Dyroth, nothing bad will happen, right?" Daphne Greengrass asked, her eyes filled with worry. As Draco's future sister-in-law, her concern was evident.


Dyroth's expression remained cold, his tone brimming with confidence. "As long as I'm here, nothing will happen."


In truth, Dyroth didn't harbor any ill feelings toward the Weasley family. The Weasleys, except for Ron, were brilliant in both talent and strength. Charlie raised dragons, Molly killed Bellatrix with three silent spells, and Percy defeated the puppet Minister of Magic... Ron, however, stood out for all the wrong reasons—his jealousy was overwhelming.


Dyroth concealed his wand under his robe's wide sleeves, his eyes locked onto Ron and Draco in the sky.


---


**Up in the air**


Ron twisted left and right, trying in vain to shake Draco off his tail. But Draco stayed on him, getting closer and closer. Ron, panicking, began circling the castle, hoping to escape.


"Don't let me catch you, Weasley!" Draco yelled, his anger driving him forward.


In his panic, Ron's hand slipped, and he nearly fell off his broom. By the time he righted himself, Draco was within arm's reach. In desperation, Ron threw Dyroth's book into the air and stopped mid-flight, glaring at Draco.


"Keep chasing me, if you dare!"


"Idiot!" Draco muttered, his gaze shifting to the book as it tumbled away in the wind. His face darkened, and he turned to chase after it.


Draco's green Slytherin robe fluttered in the wind as he streaked through the air. Despite Hogwarts' outdated brooms, Draco's flying talent shone through. He was inches away from grabbing the book when—crack!


The broom snapped in two.


Hogwarts' brooms, used by countless students over the years, had grown fragile and worn. Draco plummeted toward the ground, the speed of his fall increasing with each passing second.


Gasps echoed across the lawn as students realized the danger Draco was in. At this speed, the impact would be devastating.


"Transfigure!" At the critical moment, Dyroth's voice rang out, casting a transfiguration spell that turned the grass beneath Draco into soft mattresses just before he hit the ground.


Even with the cushioning, Draco was still battered by the fall.


Dyroth's eyes turned cold as he watched Ron hovering in the air. He stowed his wand and cast another silent spell.


"Expulso!" The force of the blasting curse struck Ron's broom, and without warning, Ron plummeted from the sky.


Unlike Draco, Ron had no safety net.


With a resounding 'thud', Ron crashed into the ground, his limbs bending in unnatural ways. A howl of pain tore from his throat as the students looked on in horror.


Dyroth didn't spare him a glance. He walked calmly to Draco's side.


"How do you feel?" Dyroth asked, kneeling down next to him. "Don't move, I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey."


Draco, dazed and confused, saw Dyroth holding out the book he'd just retrieved.


"Dyroth… your book," Draco mumbled, wincing from his injuries.


Dyroth's initial anger dissipated at the sight of Draco's wounds. His eyes softened as he looked at Draco. "Next time, don't risk your life over something like this. It's just a book," he said quietly. "As long as you're okay, that's what matters."


---


"Merlin's beard, what happened here?" Madam Hooch's sharp voice rang out as she arrived, surveying the chaotic scene before her.


After listening to the students' explanations, her face turned white with anger. She rounded on Ron, who was still writhing in pain on the ground.


"Mr. Weasley! Did you not hear a word I said earlier? Disobeying class instructions, acting out of jealousy, insulting your classmates, and stealing from another student—this behavior is disgraceful! Fifty points from Gryffindor!"


The Gryffindors groaned in dismay, glaring at Ron with disgust. Even though they had a rivalry with Slytherin, Ron had crossed a line.


Madam Hooch, known for her fairness, narrowed her eyes at Ron. "I will be reporting this to Professor McGonagall. And you are no longer welcome in my class, Mr. Weasley!"


Ron's face fell, his reputation at Hogwarts plummeting in an instant. His Quidditch dreams were shattered by her words.


Madam Hooch then turned to Dyroth, her tone softening with regret. "Mr. Grindelwald, I apologize for what happened. I will personally see to it that Mr. Weasley apologizes to you once he recovers."


Dyroth shook his head slightly. "There's no need to blame yourself, Madam Hooch. You couldn't have predicted this." He paused. "Besides, I haven't lost anything."


"Such a gracious gentleman," Madam Hooch said with a smile, relieved. "And for your bravery in saving your classmate, ten points to Slytherin!"


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What happened during the flying lesson quickly spread throughout Hogwarts.


Being ungrateful will be disliked wherever you are.


Not to mention that Dyroth had helped Gryffindor students on more than one occasion.


He even saved their lives!


This instantly made Gryffindor the laughingstock of everyone.


In the hospital wing, Harry and Draco, were situated at opposite ends of the room.


The two were living in vastly different environments.


A dozen little wizards, led by Dyroth, stood around Draco's hospital bed, bringing a large number of gifts and well-wishes.


On the other hand, Harry was the only one at Ron's bedside.


It was empty!


He was also receiving glares from the other students.


Harry and Draco looked at each other in silence, unsure of what to say.


Just then, an owl flew in through the window and dropped a red letter on Ron's bedside.


Ron's expression changed instantly.


"Oh no!"


Shaking, he reached out to pick up the letter, but still hesitated to open it.


"Look, Weasley got a Howler!" There was laughter from the crowd as they watched him with amused expressions.


"Go on, Weasley, let us hear what you've done!"


"Yeah, maybe Mrs. Weasley is praising you for the good things you've done!"


"Harry, maybe you should..." Ron swallowed and turned to Harry.


But Harry wasn't a fool. Even if he had never seen a Howler before, he could tell from everyone's reactions that this wasn't good.


He quickly shook his head, refusing to help.


Ron looked disappointed and hesitated before finally touching the seal of the Howler.


The letter exploded open immediately.


A deafening roar filled the room.


"RON WEASLEY! How dare you behave like this at school?"


"Causing trouble in class, stealing from your classmates! You're going to be the reason of my death!"


The letter formed the face of an enraged Mrs. Weasley.


Ron stood frozen in terror as his mother's voice berated him.


"Professor McGonagall herself came to speak to me about you! If you get expelled, I wouldn't be surprised at all!"


"This is your own fault! If you cause any more trouble at school, your father and I will bring you straight home!"


"Do you hear me?"


Ron frantically nodded at the Howler, despite knowing his mother couldn't see him.


After her angry tirade, Mrs. Weasley's voice softened as the Howler turned to Harry.


"Hello, dear Harry. I'm so glad you're friends with Ron."


"You're welcome to visit us anytime!"


With that, the Howler tore itself into shreds, scattering across the bed.


"Hahahaha..."


The crowd erupted in laughter.


Ron, who had just been the focus of everyone's attention, once again became the butt of jokes.


One boy mimicked Mrs. Weasley's furious expression, repeating lines from the Howler.


"RON WEASLEY! How dare you behave like this at school!"


Another boy imitated Ron's fearful reaction, pretending to nod frantically.


Everyone burst out laughing again.


Ron's face reddened in anger, and he turned his head, avoiding their mocking gazes.


Harry couldn't bear to see his friend tormented like this, so he rushed over to Dyroth.


"Dyroth..."


"Harry, what they're doing isn't directed by me. Do you really want me to intercede for someone who repays kindness with ingratitude?"


Dyroth already knew what Harry was about to say before he even opened his mouth.


Was it because he was usually too kind at Hogwarts that people assumed he had no temper?


"You have to pay for your mistakes," Dyroth continued. "Ron should've thought of that before he tried to steal my book during flying lessons."


"Ron...Ron didn't mean to..." Harry stammered.


"Not intentional?" Dyroth laughed, but there was no humor in his voice.


If he hadn't needed Harry for his future plans against Dumbledore, he would've slapped some sense into him.


"Are you saying the broom flew to me on its own and then snatched my book on its own? You even crashed into Draco afterward, didn't you?"


"Dyroth, Ron already knows he was wrong!"


But Dyroth had had enough.


He wasn't Harry's nanny. As long as he could use Harry to maneuver against Dumbledore, that was all that mattered.


He turned his head away, refusing to look at Harry any longer.


With a flick of his wand, the knife on the table began peeling an apple, which he then held up to Draco.


"Madam Pomfrey said the bruises on your body will disappear with ointment. After a night's rest, you'll be able to attend class as usual tomorrow."


Draco nodded, but his gaze shifted to Harry, filled with disappointment.


Crabbe and Goyle stood like guards, ensuring that Harry didn't approach Dyroth.


Pansy Parkinson smirked, sneering at Harry. "Weasley hasn't even apologized to Draco or Dyroth after all this time. Is this what you call knowing you were wrong?"


"Get out of here, you're not welcome!"


Harry, speechless and embarrassed, turned red and hurried back to Ron's bedside.


Pansy wasn't done yet. She pointed at Ron's bed. "If it weren't for Dyroth's quick thinking during Potions class, do you think you'd have even made it to flying lessons?"


"How many people would have been harmed by that disaster of a potion you brewed?"


Ron's face burned with shame. Pansy's words brought tears to his eyes, but he couldn't argue back.


He buried his head in his blanket.


Dyroth sneered to himself.


Think this is bad, Ron Weasley? Your suffering has only just begun.


...


Back in the Slytherin common room that evening, Dyroth was about to head to the dormitory when he heard someone calling his name.


"Excuse me, is Mr. Grindelwald here?"


"Could someone please fetch him for us?"


Dyroth approached the door and saw three red-headed figures waiting—Percy Weasley and the Weasley twins.


"Mr. Grindelwald, we've come to apologize on Ron's behalf," Percy began, bowing slightly. "We spoiled him too much when he was younger, and it caused trouble for you. We're really sorry."


"As for the textbook Ron took, we'll compensate you or buy you a new one."


"When he's recovered, we'll bring him to apologize personally to you and Mr. Malfoy."


"I hope you can forgive him."


Dyroth wasn't one to hold grudges unnecessarily. Percy and the twins were future pieces in his plans, so he couldn't risk alienating them.


"There's no need for compensation. Just take care of your brother in the future," Dyroth said.


Percy seemed relieved. "Thank you. But, Mr. Grindelwald, there's one more thing I'd like to discuss with you..."


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"It's... that's the fifth-year textbook..." Percy mumbled, looking down with a guilty expression.


"Exactly right, Dyroth!" Fred chimed in, stepping forward as Percy struggled to find the words. "We don't have enough gold at the moment to buy you a new one, but our parents are sending money soon. If you're in a rush, you can take mine in the meantime, and I'll get a new one when I can."


Percy, flustered, quickly added, "Or we could offer you some other goods to make up for it!"


Fred winked at Dyroth and grinned. "We've got all sorts of treats—Ton-Tongue Toffee that'll give you a real mouthful, and stink bombs that can clear a classroom for a week!"


"And that's just the beginning..." Fred started, but Dyroth raised his hand.


"Enough," Dyroth said with a laugh, shaking his head. "There's no need for a new book. It's not damaged, and I've already made my notes in it. Switching would just be a hassle."


"But..."


"No 'buts,' Percy," Dyroth insisted, his voice calm and friendly. "If you really want to help, just lend me your old notes. Having a look at a Gryffindor top student's notes is worth more than a new book anyway."


Percy's face lit up with pride. "It's no problem! I'll bring them to you in the morning, right in the Hogwarts hall."


"No rush, Percy. Whenever you're free, I can always come to pick them up."


Percy thought it over, then nodded. "Tomorrow morning it is then. I'll leave you to rest now. Goodnight, Dyroth!"


With that, Percy guided Fred and George away, but Dyroth waited for a few minutes, keeping his eye on the stairs.


Before long, two familiar figures tiptoed their way back into view.


"So, the generous friend sent us a secret invite. Ready to see what we've got on offer?" Fred asked, grinning mischievously.


"We've got the goods," George added, "let me guess what you're after—"


"No need to guess. I'm interested in more than just your products." Dyroth smirked, a glint in his eyes.


George covered his mouth, feigning shock. "Oh no, it's over! Every girl in Hogwarts will be heartbroken!"


Dyroth rolled his eyes. "Is this what makes British humor so famous?" he muttered to himself. Even teenagers are this cheeky.


Fred patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. We won't tell anyone."


"Back to business," Dyroth said, regaining focus, "I called you here to discuss a... partnership. Or more precisely, an investment."


Fred and George exchanged surprised glances, a spark of excitement in their eyes. They could hardly believe what they were hearing. For years, no one had ever taken their products seriously. Their pranks had earned more scolding than praise, especially from their mother and the professors.


Dyroth continued, gauging their reactions carefully. "Your products have potential. With the right funding, you could take them to the next level. I'm willing to invest."


Fred and George's faces lit up as Dyroth stretched out five fingers.


"Five galleons..." George murmured, his voice hopeful.


"No, fifty," Dyroth corrected.


"Fifty?" Fred gasped, almost in disbelief.


Dyroth handed them a heavy bag of gold. "This is just the first batch. I'll cover all your materials and experiment costs going forward. In return, I get a backup of whatever you invent, and we split the profits 50/50."


Fred and George were speechless. They pinched themselves to make sure they weren't dreaming before enveloping Dyroth in a tight hug.


"George, this isn't a dream! Mr. Grindelwald is actually willing to back us!"


"We won't have to hide or sneak around anymore!" Fred said with excitement as if their entire world had shifted.


"And that's not all," Dyroth added. "After you graduate, you can come and work for me. I'll even set up a joke shop for you to run."


"Merlin's socks, today's our lucky day!" Fred exclaimed, almost dancing in joy.


Dyroth smiled at the sight. It wasn't just a kind gesture. He knew full well that the Weasley twins' mischief could become the flagship of his future business ventures.


As they discussed further plans, Dyroth stretched, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders. "It's getting late. How about we—"


"—have a midnight snack?" George cut in with a raised eyebrow.


Dyroth rubbed his belly, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. "You read my mind. Where do you suggest?"


"The Hogwarts kitchen, of course!" Fred said, as if it were obvious.


Fred and George led Dyroth through secret passages, their excitement palpable.


Halfway through the journey, Dyroth began to regret agreeing. Is it really worth sneaking out in the dead of night for food?


But before long, they reached a brightly lit stone corridor. At the end hung a painting of a fruit bowl. Fred approached it confidently and tickled a pear.


With a soft giggle, the pear transformed into a green door handle.


Fred twisted it open and grinned. "Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchen, Mr. Grindelwald."


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In the kitchen, several busy house-elves hurriedly approached the three of them, but none seemed alarmed. This was a familiar routine for Dyroth.


"Dear wizard, what would you like to eat?" one of the elves asked politely.


"We'll have two servings of pumpkin juice, baked potatoes, and steak," the Weasley twins chimed in unison.


"I'll have a glass of lemon juice, some fried sausages, and a bacon omelette, thank you," Dyroth replied, earning him an excited response from one of the house-elves.


"Thank you? Sophie, did you hear that? The respected little wizard actually said thank you to Leah!" Leah, the elf who took Dyroth's order, burst with excitement, grabbing a nearby elf to share her joy.


Sophie, the other elf, looked on with uncontrollable envy.


"Okay, Leah, don't keep our guests waiting!" Sophie urged gently.


Leah gasped. "You're right! Leah kept the distinguished guest waiting! Leah is a bad elf, a very bad elf!" she cried, then dramatically hit her head against the wall.


Dyroth was startled, unsure how to react, but before he could stop her, Leah had already returned with their meals.


The Weasley twins' plates were simple, their food placed casually as requested. However, Dyroth's order was presented with exceptional care. Thick sauce covered the bacon, and a delicate white flower adorned his lemonade.


"Dear guest, Leah prepared this special sauce just for you!" Leah said eagerly, her eyes wide with anticipation.


Dyroth, touched by her effort, smiled and patted her head reassuringly. He cut a piece of bacon, dipped it in the sauce, and took a bite.


"This is delicious! Thanks, Leah!" he said, praising her work.


"The distinguished guest praised Leah!" she cried out in joy, running around to show off to the other house-elves.


Soon, the kitchen became a scene of competition, as the other elves began presenting more delicious food to Dyroth, hoping to earn his praise. Dishes piled up on the table, and for the first time, Dyroth found himself overwhelmed by too much food.


By the end of the meal, Dyroth was thoroughly stuffed. The Weasley twins, who also shared in his royal treatment, couldn't help but feel smug at their lucky break, enjoying delicacies they had never tasted before.


As the three of them prepared to leave, George sighed, "It seems the next time we sneak into the kitchen, we'll have to bring Dyroth along."


Fred nodded in agreement. "Yeah, after this meal, I'm afraid nothing else will taste as good."


"Don't worry, there'll be plenty of opportunities in the future," Dyroth replied with a knowing smile.


He had plans—exploring the restricted section of the library and investigating Hogwarts' many secrets, including the legendary founders' chambers. And, of course, he had his sights set on the Marauder's Map in the twins' possession.


After their supper, they parted ways, as Gryffindor and Slytherin dormitories were on different paths. The Weasley twins offered to accompany him, but Dyroth politely declined.


He retraced his steps through the quiet corridors, confident he could find his way back.


Suddenly, a cat's sharp meow echoed through the passage, followed by Filch's gruff voice.


"Mrs. Norris, did someone sneak out again? Smell carefully!"


Dyroth cursed his luck. Of all times!


I really need to learn the Disillusionment Charm, he thought, quickly scanning for a place to hide. He jumped onto the escalator and ducked into a nearby classroom.


The room was pitch dark, and Filch's footsteps drew closer. Dyroth didn't dare cast a light spell, fearful of revealing his presence. He hugged the wall, creeping forward in the dark, his heart racing.


He wasn't particularly concerned about losing house points; that was just a childish game. What worried him was Dumbledore becoming suspicious of him.


Since their last conversation in the headmaster's office, Dyroth knew he had already caught Dumbledore's attention. It would be unwise to raise more suspicion, especially with Voldemort's return still a long way off.


As he groped along the walls, Dyroth felt a growing sense of dread. The surroundings seemed eerily familiar.


This can't be...


A realization hit him like a brick.


"I've ended up in the room with Fluffy!" he muttered to himself, recognizing the faint snores of the three-headed dog from behind the door.


He had stumbled into the chamber where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden, the one Dumbledore had assigned to Harry to protect. There was no way the area wasn't enchanted to alert the headmaster immediately if anyone entered.


Great... Just my luck.


Deciding it was too risky to open the door, Dyroth cast a quick spell on himself. "Scourgify!"


The dust and scent clinging to his clothes vanished just as Filch and Mrs. Norris arrived outside the classroom.


"Did someone come in here, sweetie?" Filch muttered, lifting Mrs. Norris with one hand and holding his oil lamp with the other. He scanned the room suspiciously but, finding nothing, eventually turned around and left.


Dyroth exhaled in relief. "That was too close."


He waited for a while to make sure Filch was gone, then slipped out of the room. But as he walked through the corridors, another problem arose.


He was lost.


Hogwarts' staircases were notoriously confusing, and after jumping up the escalator and turning several corners, Dyroth had completely lost his bearings.


"If I had known this would happen, I would've let the twins walk me back," he grumbled. Now he regretted his earlier insistence on walking alone.


Just as he was considering how much longer this detour would last, a strong smell of garlic filled the air.


Immediately afterward, he heard a familiar, stuttering voice.


"S-Slytherin's new student? W-What are you doing here?"


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