A heart-wrenching blow upon their first meeting? Or should I be burned to death with Fiendfyre?
Ivan shuddered at the thought of the tragic fates that might befall him if his secret were discovered. He tried his absolute best to retrieve the original owner's memories, but they remained elusive.
Perhaps because of the trauma of soul-travel, those memories seemed scattered and buried in the deepest reaches of his subconscious. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he came up empty.
"Damn it, if only I could remember more," Ivan muttered to himself, a headache throbbing behind his eyes. It seemed he would have to master Occlumency before the end of the semester and find a way to use the Pensieve in the Headmaster's office to sort through his own mind. Otherwise, he was incredibly likely to be exposed.
To be honest, Ivan didn't even know where his own home was. It was a truly remarkable lack of success for a time traveler.
"Harry Potter!"
Just as Ivan was pondering how to sneak into the Restricted Section to learn Legilimency, Professor McGonagall's sharp voice drew his attention back to the ceremony.
Every head in the Great Hall—student and professor alike—snapped toward the stage. It was a reenactment of the silence that had greeted Ivan, but with a thousand times more intensity. Ivan's "specialness" was nothing compared to the prestige of the Boy Who Lived.
As a bespectacled, thin, and somewhat timid-looking boy stepped onto the stage, the Hall erupted in a deafening roar of applause. The Gryffindors next to Ivan clapped until their palms were red, staring intently at the forehead partially obscured by messy black hair, hoping for a glimpse of the lightning-shaped scar.
"Harry Potter? Is it really *that* Harry Potter?"
"My mom says he defeated You Know Who right after he was born!"
"I really hope he gets into Gryffindor!"
Ivan joined in the applause. He had to; standing out now would be social suicide. Besides, he felt it was an honor Harry truly deserved. Harry's miserable childhood had been the price of a peace he didn't even know he'd bought. If Lily Potter hadn't sacrificed her life to strip Voldemort of his power, countless more wizards would have perished.
When the hat finally shouted "**GRYFFINDOR!**", the table went wild. The Weasley twins hugged each other, chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Across the hall, the Slytherins were noticeably quieter. Their prefects looked displeased, especially after the rumor whispered through the hall that Harry had flatly refused to join their house.
Ivan observed the chaos with a slight, knowing smile. He knew this "savior aura" was at its peak. Once the novelty wore off and people realized Harry was just an ordinary boy with messy hair and bad eyesight, the fervor would die down.
He glanced up at the High Table. Dumbledore was beaming at Harry, looking every bit the proud grandfather. Ivan grumbled internally; with the Headmaster basically providing the Savior with a custom "cheat code" every year, the other houses could probably forget about winning the House Cup for the foreseeable future.
As Harry sat down, Percy Weasley rushed to shake his hand, and everyone scrambled to make room for him. Even George and Fred abandoned Ivan to join the crowd surrounding the celebrity.
Ivan, however, had no intention of joining the scrum. He turned his attention back to the feast. People always said British cuisine was awful, but Hogwarts' food was surprisingly delicious. Ivan suspected this was because the meals were prepared by house-elves rather than British wizards.
Suddenly, Ivan felt the prickle of a gaze. He looked up and found himself staring directly into Dumbledore's silver-blue eyes.
Ivan didn't flinch. He didn't have the luxury of stage fright. He offered the Headmaster a smile of feigned innocence and shyness, then popped a large piece of cake into his mouth, swallowing it in a few determined bites. Perhaps it was Ivan's "gluttonous aura," or perhaps Dumbledore was simply acting on a whim, but the Great Wizard returned the smile before turning his gaze elsewhere.
Finally, the golden plates were wiped clean as if by magic. The older students were used to it, but for Ivan, seeing the physical remnants of a feast vanish into thin air was still a marvel.
Dumbledore stood up, and the room fell into a respectful silence.
"Ha! Now that we have all eaten and drunk our fill, let me say a few more words. I have a few start-of-term notices to release."
Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall. His eyes swept over the freshmen before settling briefly on the Weasley twins.
"First-years should take special note: the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes."
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week..."
After rattling off the standard rules, Dumbledore paused. His expression turned uncharacteristically grave, and his voice rose.
"Finally, I must warn you: those who do not wish to suffer a most painful death should avoid the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side this year!"
Ivan couldn't help but criticize the speech in his head. *Classic "fishing," Dumbledore.* The Headmaster told them just enough to make it sound terrifying, but revealed absolutely nothing about *why* it was dangerous. It was an invitation for curious students. As expected, several freshmen laughed, thinking it was a joke, while the older students looked grim.
The Weasley brothers, however, didn't look grim—they looked like they were already planning their first excursion. Ivan guessed they'd be at that corridor within the week, though he suspected Dumbledore would have Filch keeping a very close watch on them to prevent any actual tragedies.
To Be Continue....
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