Harry Potter and The Heir of the Shadow Throne

Today was my 11th birthday, March 2, 1991, and it felt like the world was holding its breath.

Five years had passed since Mom and I fled to the Scottish Highlands, and I'd grown from a clumsy 6-year-old into a wiry, determined 11-year-old, my dark hair longer and my green eyes sharper.

I'd trained myself like crazy, pushing my Shadow System powers to their limits, but life here had been a rollercoaster of highs and lows. We hid in our cavern under the cliff, scraping by on scavenged herbs and Mom's wandwork, always under the crushing pressure that Aurors could crash in at any moment.

By the way, the wizarding world buzzed with Harry Potter's name, just like in the book, and it was spreading like wildfire. "The Chosen One," they called him. "The baby who killed the Dark Lord." "Our savior." Whispers even reached our remote hideout—newspaper clippings Mom smuggled, tavern gossip she overheard in disguise. Harry, my age, my peer, had become a legend after surviving Voldemort's curse, while I remained Zephyr Riddle, Voldemort's hidden son, buried in shadows and secrecy.

I stood outside the cavern, the morning mist clinging to the Highlands like a damp blanket, when an owl swooped down—a majestic barn owl, clutching a parchment envelope sealed with wax. My heart raced as I tore it open, reading the elegant script:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dear Mr. Rid, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted…

A Hogwarts letter. My ticket out of hiding, my chance to step into the world I'd only dreamed of from my otaku past. Well, not really this one, but anyway, I've made peace with it already.

Mom returned that afternoon, her auburn hair tangled and her face a mix of emotions I couldn't pin down. Relief flickered in her eyes, maybe because she felt free from Voldemort's grip after his fall, though she'd never spoken much about her past with him, and I knew my place, so I didn't pry about it.

But I could also sense that fear shadowed her relief, her lips tight, her wand twitching at her side. "Zephyr, we need to talk," she said, her voice low but steady. "Death Eaters might still be hunting us, or worse, enemies I haven't known; they just want to go after us. This letter… it's a blessing, but it's a risk. Back then, I hid you from everyone, even from the Dark Lord himself. They thought I just kidnapped some random baby for experimental purposes, so within Hogwarts, you should be safe. Also, as you read the letter, I changed your last name, and don't need to ask why—I have my ways."

I nodded, gripping the letter. "I know, Mom. I'm ready."

I closed my eyes, calling on the Shadow System for reassurance. It pinged softly, flashing a glowing screen in my mind:

Host Zephyr Riddle – Skill Summary (Level 11, Shadow Prodigy):

Shadow Step (15-20 Meters): Teleport via shadows—silent, precise, now extended to 20 meters with refined control, avoiding most stumbles. Superior to Apparition's noisy method.Wandless Sparks: Consistent sparks of light or mild electric shocks from hands—reliable for illumination or minor distractions, with improved accuracy.Shadow Surge (20 Meters): A focused beam or wave of shadow energy, effective up to 20 meters, with enhanced precision and reduced backlash. Primary offensive power.Shadow Bind: Traps small creatures or objects with shadowy tendrils, now durable and precise, holding targets longer before release.Shadow Sense (75 Meters): Advanced detection of magical threats or presences within 75 meters, now stable and less prone to misfires, enhancing situational awareness.Shadow Pulse (25 Meters, 5/Day): A powerful shockwave of shadow energy with a 25-meter range, usable 5 times daily, refined for controlled, wide-area impact.

I opened my eyes, impressed. "Five years of training paid off. I can shadow-step 20 meters, blast with Shadow Surge, and sense trouble before it trips me. I'm not the klutz I used to be."

Mom raised an eyebrow, a flicker of pride breaking through her worry. "You've grown, Zephyr. Your skills… they're impressive. But Hogwarts isn't just pranks and Quidditch. It's full of eyes—Ministry, professors, students. I also know that Harry Potter's there, a hero now, and the wizarding world worships him; your father's name could start a war if it leaks."

I swallowed, my otaku mind racing. I knew Harry's story—the prophecy, the Horcruxes, the battle ahead—but I was Zephyr Riddle, not some sidekick. "I get it, Mom. I'll keep myself low-key—well, as low-key as a system-powered kid can."

She sighed, sitting on a rock. "You're brave, Zephyr, or just stubborn. Hogwarts has four houses—Gryffindor for the bold, Hufflepuff for the kind, Ravenclaw for the smart, and Slytherin for the cunning, like me. You'll probably get sorted into Slytherin as well, and you will have to deal with those full blood kid. But also watch out for the Forbidden Forest—creatures like centaurs and Acromantulas aren't friendly, and Dumbledore's got eyes everywhere."

Mom stood, her wand glowing softly. "We leave for Diagon Alley tomorrow to get your school stuff, Zephyr. Get your things ready; we'll get out of here. But promise me: stay sharp, stay hidden, and don't blow up Hogwarts on day one."

"Promise, Mom!" I said, shadow-stepping to the cave entrance—then stumbling with a laugh. "Okay, mostly sharp!"

As the mist settled, I knew the future full of surprises was waiting for me. The Hogwarts letter in my hand felt like a ticket to chaos, and I couldn't wait.

Can't wait.