Anduin let the newspaper fall to his desk. The front-page declaration of Minister Millison Barnold authorizing the use of the Unforgivable Curses against Death Eaters was a stark indicator of the magical world's direction.
It solidified his own tactical premise: survival depends entirely on personal power. When the Ministry itself resorted to desperate measures, neutrality was an illusion, and reliance on institutional safety was negligence.
Without the guarantee of my own strength, I am merely a secondary variable, disposable at the whim of the larger conflict, he concluded. He had initiated a subtle move in the Hogwarts chess game by warning Charles, but the larger, external war was his true deadline. The sooner he completed his foundational training, the sooner he could begin developing a genuinely reliable defensive system.
He glanced at the two pieces of parchment lying side-by-side, long-delayed responses from his only two adult contacts in the magical world: Sirius Black and Lily Potter. His accelerated schedule had forced him to defer these social obligations, but they were a necessary part of maintaining his low-profile network.
He picked up Sirius's reply first, the parchment covered in large, hasty script that somehow looked both arrogant and playful.
"Hahaha, Anduin, you actually got sorted into Slytherin! That's just rotten luck, mate. If I recall correctly, you're a Muggle-born wizard, and those pure-blood bad seeds in that House will undoubtedly try to tear you to pieces. I spent my time at Hogwarts making life miserable for those Slytherin bastards with pranks. You need to watch your back, or you'll find yourself hit by some unknown hex, waking up naked outside the girls' bathroom."
"If I were to give you any advice, it would be this: you have to stand up for yourself. Slytherins are just common bullies who prey on the weak. If you intimidate them, no one will dare mess with you again. The professors can't be everywhere. Flitwick is a charming bookworm, Slughorn is too genial and detached to care about his own house's internal politics, and McGonagall, while capable, is frighteningly strict. You can run to her if you get into trouble, but be ready for a week of detention."
"On a brighter note, I have some brilliant news! I'm officially the godfather to Lily and James's baby. Harry is the cutest little thing you've ever seen, I swear. Lily and I were just discussing it, and we'd love for you to join us for Christmas. I can teach you a few proper Marauder-style tricks then, what do you say?"
"Look after yourself, Anduin. Things are getting seriously messy out here. There are far too many Death Eaters tormenting Muggles mercilessly. Keep your head down."
Your loyal friend, Sirius Black.
Anduin set the letter down with a faint sigh. The response confirmed his initial assessment of Sirius: reckless, high-risk, and strategically unsophisticated. Sirius's advice—Intimidate the bullies—was a catastrophic suggestion for a first-year, Muggle-born Slytherin who was currently focusing all his energy on training rather than conflict.
Embracing outright confrontation would immediately compromise his academic focus and expose him to alliances he did not yet have the strength to manage. Sirius operated on pure, emotionally driven bravado, a luxury Anduin could not afford.
The signature, Your loyal friend, was a fascinating piece of performative theatre. Loyalty in the context of pure-blood conflict was a dangerously volatile asset. Anduin largely dismissed the advice and composed a concise, strategically worded response. He would maintain the connection, but strictly on his terms.
On a fresh piece of parchment, Anduin penned a reply that was polite but decidedly cold. He complained lightly about the logistical challenges of Slytherin House without detailing any actual conflict. He politely deflected the suggestion of making friends, confirming his status as a detached entity.
He then refused the Christmas invitation, citing the need to continue his "academic duties and spell practice" over the holiday period—a subtle way of confirming his ambition without revealing the depth of his training.
Finally, he introduced a transactional element: he asked Sirius what specific Christmas gift he might want. It was a calculated move, establishing a small, necessary exchange of currency and obligation, solidifying their connection without demanding emotional proximity. He then sealed the letter, ready for the morning postal run.
He opened Lily Potter's letter next. Her handwriting was neat, disciplined, and instantly comforting. The contrast with Sirius's chaotic scrawl was immediate, suggesting a more rational and dependable mind.
"Dear Anduin, I apologize for the delay in my reply. Harry is only a month old, and as a brand-new mother, I feel like I might mess everything up right from the start! It's a steep learning curve."
"Regarding your sorting into Slytherin, I truly don't believe you need to worry too much. The Sorting Hat is never wrong. Slytherin isn't the den of darkness it's often painted as. There are fundamentally good people in every House. While yes, many wizards from that House do go astray later in life, we cannot apply that assumption universally. I had a friend who was in Slytherin, and even among the Death Eaters we are confronting now, we find wizards who originated in other Houses."
"Anduin, you and I are very similar—we are both Muggle-born wizards navigating this world. But you are also different; you have had to be self-reliant since childhood, and you possess a strength I didn't have at your age. I believe you can overcome the challenges of your House. Please promise me you won't lose your way or compromise your principles."
"Professor Flitwick recently wrote to inform me that you've been invited to join the Charms Club. That is wonderful news! I remember I didn't receive an invitation until my third year. I absolutely loved my time there; it's where I began thoroughly studying and researching a particular protective spell. I believe I left a lot of my old research material on protective enchantments at the club. They are hidden in the bookcase behind the desk. The book on the bottom shelf is Wilbert Slinka's Magical Defense Theory. You might find my notes useful if you decide to look it up."
"When Harry had his first full moon, James and I formalized the god-parent arrangement with Sirius—he was thrilled. We're planning a small, quiet celebration after Christmas, and Sirius suggested we invite you. James and I would be delighted if you could join us."
With best wishes, your loyal friend, Lily Potter.
Anduin found himself momentarily deeply moved. Lily's response was not just kind; it was strategic and empathetic. She understood the core challenge of his Slytherin placement without needing a detailed explanation, and she didn't offer reckless advice. Her statement about strength and self-reliance was a rare moment of genuine recognition.
Crucially, she offered actionable intelligence veiled in friendly advice: the mention of the Magical Defense Theory and the specific location of her protective spell research. This was a direct, invaluable resource, providing a pathway to advanced knowledge tailored for his current Phase 1 goals. Lily was not just a friend; she was a genuine strategic asset.
He immediately began his reply to Lily, making sure the tone conveyed the warmth and gratitude he genuinely felt.
In his response, Anduin expressed heartfelt thanks for her wisdom and her willingness to share such a private experience. He accepted the post-Christmas dinner invitation immediately, marking it as a priority in his schedule. He offered his warmest wishes to the Potter family and to Harry, reminding Lily, "to take the same level of care of yourself as you do for your son, even when you're safe at home."
It was a subtle nod to the dangers she mentioned, a reciprocal expression of concern. He consciously avoided mentioning the specific book or club material, thereby protecting the covert information she had supplied.
He sealed Lily's letter with a far greater sense of commitment than he had Sirius's. These letters had clarified his allegiances: Sirius was a useful, if reckless, acquaintance to be managed; Lily was a rare, insightful ally to be cultivated and protected.
With both letters prepared for the morning owl post, Anduin decisively shifted his focus. The Gryffindor/Slytherin conflict had been mitigated, and his network had been serviced. It was time for his next external objective.
He had not yet formally visited Rubeus Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, since their shared meal of Aethonan dragon liver at the Leaky Cauldron. That meal represented a foundational social contract—a shared, illicit experience. In Anduin's framework, that required a reciprocal gesture to maintain the relationship's strength.
Hagrid, with his access to the Forbidden Forest and non-standard magical creatures, represented an unpredictable but potentially valuable source of materials and information far outside the established curriculum.
After his final afternoon class, a particularly dreary session of History of Magic, Anduin retrieved a few small, carefully labeled jars from his personal trunk. These contained highly potent and exotic dried spices, procured before he left the Muggle world, perfect for masking the heavy, strong aromas of exotic meats—or dragon liver. He bagged them and set off immediately for Hagrid's hut.
He consciously chose the scenic route, allowing him to observe the castle and grounds. He passed the Clock Square, the heavy stone pendulum swinging with a hypnotic rhythm, and crossed the long, covered bridge, whose worn stone and wooden beams felt ancient and secure.
The change in environment was a welcome respite from the claustrophobic corridors. The path was initially populated with groups of students, laughing and playing games, but as he turned away from the main thoroughfare and towards the fringe of the Forbidden Forest, the population quickly thinned.
Anduin noticed the subtle differences in the ground here: the meticulously maintained lawns gave way to tougher, wilder grasses and muddy patches near the trees. He passed the round, dilapidated stone tower of the Owlery to his right, a structure constantly alive with the muffled hoots and rustling of postal owls.
Following the faint, uneven path to his left, he finally spotted the Gamekeeper's shack in the distance. It looked like an oversized, slightly neglected stone mushroom, constantly sending a low plume of woodsmoke into the late autumn air.
The surroundings were rugged and unmanicured; patches of overgrown vegetables and strange, hardy flowering plants struggled for space against the darker, imposing boundary of the forest. The air itself began to change, no longer smelling of ancient dust and parchment, but of damp earth, burning wood, and the faint, musky scent of wild creatures.
The solitary figure of Hagrid's hut, sitting at the very edge of civilization, seemed like a beacon to the non-conformist, the unorthodox. Anduin knew that was precisely why he needed to secure this relationship. He adjusted the bag of spices on his shoulder and continued the final approach, preparing his opening gambit.
Will Anduin find Hagrid receptive to his visit, or will the Gamekeeper be too distracted by his various projects, offering a new challenge for Anduin's networking skills?