HP: A Magical Journey

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December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the students of Hogwarts. The new normal for the Room of Requirements was the DA members practicing their spells in the DA meetings, with Quinn in the lead as he wandered around the summoned room, taking note of the progress while providing guidance to anyone who seemed to be having a tough time and to those who were just a tweak or two away from pushing their casting to the next level.

“Listen well, people. Today’s going to be the last session before Christmas, so please ask about any problems or doubts you have regarding any spells we have covered in our meets — it can be the Disarming spell we learned at the very beginning or the Severing charm we learned today. I will front any doubt right now, so you don’t go home feeling unsure about what we have learned.”

It was already nearing Christmas, and Hogwarts would enter a winter break of roughly a week while DA would be suspended to rest for two weeks. The progress had been coming along pretty well, and the ones who weren’t proficient in a given spell were improving, while those who were good at them were moving onto spell variations to solidify their repertoire.

A hand was raised from the crowd.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but why’s he a part of DA?” said the person pointing to another person from the group.

The hand was pointing to Theodore Nott, fifth-year Slytherin. Theodore Nott was a dirty blonde with amber eyes with classic pureblood aristocratic features. From Quinn’s interactions with Theodore Nott as an AID client and Legilimency screenings, he had observed him be a taciturn guy who was keenly observant of his surroundings. Of course, not many got past the obvious to know the guy.

“His father is a Death Eater; shouldn’t he be the last person to be here?” said the person who had raised his hand. “We never know if he’s working with Umbridge. I suggest that we get rid of him before he betrays us to Umbridge.” There was a scathing cut in his voice as if he was talking about the worst scum of the earth.

Quinn pursed his lips as if holding himself from screaming. “You know, I was asking more of a magic question, but alright, let’s take care of this,” he looked at the rest of the listening group, “who else has this same problem?”

No one raised their hands, but Quinn noticed a few shifts in eyes and shuffle of feet. He didn’t call out any of those people.

“Alright then, Harry Potter and Theodore Nott come forward,” he said, “Ivy, you approached the Slytherin students and invited them, so you take this up and tell them why Nott is here.”

The three fifth-years old stepped out from the group to the front as Quinn stepped back to the side with his arms crossed.

Ivy took a look at both her brother and Nott before turning to the group.

“Like every Slytherin student here, Theodore Nott was invited based on Quinn’s recommendation. We ourselves did some checking on him, and he, for the most part, came out clean,” no one was perfect, “when we ensured that Nott would keep the secret, we approached him to see if he was interested and the answer as you can see it is obvious.”

She turned to Harry and asked, “Do you have any problems with Nott being part of DA?”

“Not really,” said Harry, “we never had any bad blood between us, so I had nothing against him joining DA. . . and well, I did ask him the question straight up.”

Ivy, once again, turned to Nott, “What was the question, and what did you answer?”

“What do I think about You-Know-Who?” said Nott, “My answer. . . I am not my father.”

It had surprised him when Harry Potter had suddenly, out of nowhere, for the first time since both had come to Hogwarts had spoken to him, but the question, on the other hand, didn’t surprise him.

“Taking that answer with Quinn’s recommendation, we thought that was enough to induct him into DA. . . What do you think about Umbitch?” Ivy added the question to not at the end.

“She is annoying. . . to say the least,” said Nott shortly to the point.

“Well, there you go, he and I are of the same mind,” said Harry, “if I don’t have a problem with him, then I don’t think anyone should.”

Ivy turned to the person who had initially raised the question, “If you’re still unsatisfied with our selection criteria, then we’re sorry because we don’t have anything better than this, and Nott hasn’t done anything for us to dismiss him out from the group.

“Also, I don’t want to see house discrimination in here. The sole reason for the creation of this group is to learn magic with no other agenda. There’s no Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, only Hogwarts when you come into his room. So if I hear any reports of daft petty arguments based on house differences, there’ll be recuperations, and I will give out punishments.”

As this was going on, Quinn silently stepped beside Marcus and whispered, “Why did he suddenly call Nott out after so many classes?”

“Apparently, Nott and that guy were pitched against each other quite a few numbers of times during mock-duels and paired as practice partners. . . And well, it’s, to say the least, but that guys and Nott aren’t on the same level,” said Marcus, whispering back.

“Ah, so this was out of frustration, huh,” said Quinn, “hmm, alright, I’ll put in more effort for the pairings, hmm, that’ll take some thinking to do — well, I’ll put Eddie against Harry; that’ll be really fun.”

“They will try to tear each other apart,” said Marcus.

“Hmm, that’s a genuine possibility,” but then Quinn waving it off, “Nah, it’ll be fine, they’ll be fine. . . what’s the worst they could do, a couple of broken bones — I can fix that in a jiffy.”

“There’s going to be a lot of blood,” said Marcus sighing.

“Oh, absolutely. That’s without a doubt,” said Quinn smiling.

After the DA meeting ended and everyone was leaving for their common room, Quinn was stopped by Theodore Nott.

“Quinn, can we talk?” he said.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” said Quinn, and both the boys stayed in the Room of Requirements after everyone left.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” said Nott.

“Uhm, I don’t know if you were paying attention or not, but I stood by the side and let the three of you do the talking.”

“Yes, I know that. I’m talking about your recommendation that allowed me to be a part of DA,” said Nott, “when I was invited, I was visited by both the Potter twins, and I don’t think they liked me for DA, and neither did they try to hide the fact they didn’t like me. If it wasn’t for your recommendation, I wouldn’t have been considered for being a part of DA.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” said Quinn, and usually the talk would end here, but Quinn noticed the tension on Nott’s face. He sighed silently, and two chairs manifested in the room.

“Sit down,” he said when Nott looked at him in confusion, “Now the niceties are out of the way — you thanked me, and I accepted, let’s come to the point. Tell me what do you actually want to talk about?”

Nott followed Quinn’s instruction and sat down on the comfy chair but didn’t start speaking immediately. Quinn watched as Nott seemed to struggle and looked he was building up the courage to speak up.

“The Dark Lord is back,” said Nott after the silence.

“Yes, I realize that,” said Quinn, “his return, if it’s true or a hoax, is all people can talk about these days.”

“No, I’m telling you that he’s back. My father. . . he told me that the Dark Lord is alive. . . and in the summer he went out to gatherings in his Death Eaters, he even talked about the Dark Lord to some guests. . . who were all Death Eaters.”

Quinn observed Nott, and the guy had his hands clutched with; there was a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead.

“You seem to be stressed,” said Quinn, “do you fear that your father will induct you into Death Eaters when the time comes?”

“I don’t fear it. I know it will happen!” said Nott raising his voice, “he’ll present me to the Dark Lord even if it means to cast Imperious on his own son! That man hadn’t talked about You-Know-Who at home before last year, but now he can’t stop talking about him. . . I — I. . .” by the end, he was all but wheezing.

“You wish to escape the fate of being forcibly drafted as a Junior Death Eater,” said Quinn.

Theodore Nott nodded deeply.

“Can you help me?” asked Nott, “I’ll do anything if you help me, please. . .”

Quinn stayed silent for a moment before speaking up.

“I can’t make your father disappear,” well he could, but that wasn’t the point, “neither can I change him from a devout flavor of the Dark Lord to a saint with the Father of the Year award. . . but I can provide you with freedom, to be specific financial freedom.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a fifth-year, and I’m pretty sure your father won’t have you marked at least before you’re of age, which will be before your seventh year. Hell, I bet, if things go well, you’ll not get marked until you have graduated from Hogwarts because your father won’t want the risk of his son marked and then sending him to study under Dumbledore.”

That made sense to Theodore Nott, and he had never thought he would be marked with the Dark Mark before he graduated.

“So, you’re probably safe till you exit Hogwarts,” said Quinn. “Your grades here at Hogwarts are decent, and you look fairly competent with magic. . . so what I can offer you is a job.”

“A job?” asked Nott confused. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

“Yes, a simple, honest-to-magic job,” said Quinn, “a job that’ll earn you money and allow you to start a life of your own. I can even reallocate you far away from here so that your father can’t just whisk you away back to continue the family legacy.

“The choice here is yours. If you’re willing to leave the life of comfort you have been living till now, change your lifestyle, which will probably degrade a lot because you won’t have your father paying for everything, and you’ll need to pay for yourself. Hell, you’ve two years, if you work hard, you can improve your skills, both hard and soft, and that will get you a better starting job which in turn will pay you more.”

This wasn’t even Quinn doing him a favor. His father had set up the recruitment drives every year at Beauxbatons, and that cooperation between his family business and the school continued to this day. Even if Lia never went to Beauxbatons, the West family still would’ve picked up students from the school. Quinn could do the same and set up something similar in Hogwarts — picking up talent when they were young and nurturing them to be a part of the company community was good for any business.

He didn’t even need to immediately set up something concrete. If Quinn simply offered the jobs to people like he did to Nott, he could probably pick up a good majority of the best people from Hogwarts, except those who had something particular in mind like Weasley twins who wanted to open shop or those who had the dream to get a job in the Ministry or those who wanted to be Aurors or a particular niche.

“Are you sure you can do that?” asked Nott.

“Providing you with an opportunity is simple enough,” said Quinn shrugging, “if you’re able to convert it into something good is all up to you.”

“So, I just need to work hard?” asked Nott.

“Yeah, find out what you’re passionate about; see if there’s a demand for it; if it’s something you can make money doing; how to get good at it. Then come to me to tell me, and I will set you up with a job. If it’s something you can’t do without further training, then we can sign a contract where we can provide you with training in exchange for you working a number of yours for us. . . education or, more specifically, gaining useful skills can open many doors for you, Nott. You just need to look for them.”

Then Quinn got up, prompting Nott to do the same.

“Feel free to come to me if you’ve anything you want to talk about, and I will sort you out. You don’t have to worry, Nott. You’re future isn’t set in stone; your future still remains firm in your grasp for you to shape it in any way you like.”

“Y-Yes,” said Nott, his voice cracking with emotion. It felt a rock had been lifted off his chest. “I’ll work hard.”

Quinn nodded with a smile and then saw Nott off. He watched in thought as the Slytherin walked away.

‘The child of an inner circle Death Eater,’ thought Quinn, ‘an important asset if used correctly.’

Quinn was willing to provide Theodore Nott with an escape. But there was rarely free lunch in the world — the thing was to see if the future would allow Theodore to gain a free lunch, or he would have to pay something in return after all.

‘Only time will tell,’ thought Quinn, ‘I wish the fates are on your side, Nott.’

Quinn looked out of the corridor towards the pale half-moon shining in the night sky and wondered what was the key player responsible for Theodore’s worries was doing right now.

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– (Scene Break) –

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In a room lit with burning candles and the blazing fireplace, the Dark Lord, the one with multiple lives, the one who sought immortality, the one who had instilled so much terror in the minds of people in this country that people didn’t dare utter his name and addressed him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named behind his back. Those loyal to him bowed their heads and kissed the edge of robes to show the subservience. The resurrected Dark Lord Voldemort sat in a chair, staring at the fire in the fireplace.

His thoughts were interrupted when there was a knock on the room’s door.

“Enter,” he said.

The door creaked open, and Lucius Malfoy entered the room, his head bowed.

“My Master,” said Malfoy Sr.

“I hope you bring good news, Lucius,” said Voldemort, not removing his eyes from the fire.

“. . . I apologize, Master, but the news is not good,” said Lucius Malfoy.

“What went wrong?”

“Broderick Bode successfully entered the Prophecy hall without any problem, but when he picked it up. . . the defensive around it was triggered, and he suffered from mental damage. . . he seems to think that he’s a teapot.”

“So, even an Unspeakable can’t touch the prophecy,” said Voldemort in a low pondering voice.

Broderick Bode was an Unspeakable working in the British Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries. Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort’s spies at the Ministry, placed Bode under the Imperius curse to force him to attempt the same theft.

“He seemed to be strangely resistant to the Imperius curse,” said Lucius pointing his observations, “I suppose it could have been because Bode, being an Unspeakable, knew what would happen if he tried to remove one of the Prophecies and tried to resist.”

“How’s the news of his condition being taken at the Ministry?”

“They believe that Bode had simply been injured in a workplace accident, he was taken to St Mungo’s for treatment, but it seems his injuries seem to irreparable, and as such, he was moved to the Spell Damage ward. From what I have heard, he’s comatose most of the time, and those times he was awake, he was mumbling and staring at the ceiling.”

“Hmm. . . leave him there, but keep an eye on him to see if he gets better,” said Voldemort, “he resisted the Imperius curse, there might be a chance that he might have identified you. . . if he gets his mental facilities back, it might turn problematic for you, Lucius. . . the word of an Unspeakables hold a weight that even you can’t shrug off.”

“Your concerns are wasted on me, Master,” said Lucius, bowing, “I’ll put some people to keep an eye on Bode.”

“Hmm. . .” was all Voldemort said in reply, and because he hadn’t dismissed Lucius, Malfoy Sr. could only stand in his spot waiting for the next order.

Voldemort hadn’t removed his eyes from the fireplace once, and he continued to observe the flames as they licked the wood for food. Voldemort knew that only those related to the Prophecy could retrieve it, but he had hoped that an Unspeakable would be able to get it for him, but that plan had failed.

The next option was Harry Potter, the Brat-Who-Got-Lucky, but Potter’s Occlumency shields were good enough that Voldemort couldn’t send him anything through their mysterious connections.

‘If only I could get my hand on Potter, I would rip his shields apart one shred at a time.’ It displeased Voldemort that he wasn’t able to get into Harry’s mind.

The next person was Dumbledore, but that wasn’t an option. The old man avoided the Prophecy like the plague. So, the only remaining person was himself, but he had been avoiding that, but now with no choices, things had to change.

“Lucius.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Get things ready; it’s time to get our old friends back.”

Lucius knew what Voldemort was talking about, and he wasn’t really thrilled about it. “Master. . . would that be wise?” he said carefully.

“You should be happy about it, Lucius,” said Voldemort with a rare chuckle in his voice, “your wife would be happy to have her sister back.”

Lucius could only stiffly nod his agreement even though it was the last thing he wanted.

“I will make preparations,” he said.

“Good.”

It was time to bring home his most loyal followers, those who wouldn’t hesitate a bit to give their lives for him.

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Quinn West – MC – Slowly collecting assets.

Theodore Nott – Slytherin – Now looking towards a new hope.

Voldemort – Dark Lord – Time to bring his favorites back.

Lucius Malfoy – Death Eater – Needs to prepare for a jailbreak.

Broderick Bode – Unspeakable – I’m a teapot; would you like some tea?

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