HP: Ashborn

Within the blink of an eye, August vanished, and September 1st — the day my journey truly begins — finally arrived. While others spent August indulging in hobbies, vacations, or the futile task of organizing sock drawers, I took a different approach. My focus was laser-sharp on the practical art of magic. I refined my skills with the dedication of a caffeine-fueled wizard-in-training, squeezing every drop of potential out of my time.

And when your day inexplicably stretches to 36 hours, you'd be amazed at what you can achieve. By the end of my extended August, I had a basic grasp of both Elder Futhark and Anglo-Saxon runes. I could cast spells—not just the flashy offensive ones that scream "wizard duel," but also practical defensive spells that could save you from embarrassing missteps, like tripping over your own summoned broomstick or getting hexed from behind by a jerk.

Utility spells became my bread and butter. I mastered the mundane yet life-changing charms of everyday magic. Let me tell you, discovering the levitation charm and summoning charm was like upgrading from dial-up to fiber-optic internet. Need the salt from across the kitchen? Summon it. Too lazy to fetch the book from the top shelf? Levitate it. The sheer convenience made life at least six times easier—seven if you factor in the dramatic flair of waving your wand like a conductor at a magical orchestra.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA), I powered through the entire first-year syllabus, both in theory and practice. I memorized all the potions for the first year, which filled my mind with countless questions and doubts—questions I'll need Snape to answer. (Better be on his good side!)

Occlumency, however, was a different beast altogether. Sitting continuously for hours, focusing on my mind, clearing it of nefarious thoughts, and practicing controlled breathing was no walk in the park. Visualizing myself in a dark, empty room without stray thoughts took immense discipline. But oh, was it worth it. I can now suppress emotions and maintain calm even in the most extreme situations. My focus has hit unprecedented levels, boosting my efficiency like never before—and when I say "a lot," I mean A LOT.

So far, I've only reached Level 2 in Occlumency. Progressing to Level 3 requires an active partner to probe my thoughts and identify weaknesses. But even at Level 2, the benefits are transformative.

What surprised me the most, however, were my breakthroughs in Arithmancy, Transfiguration, and fire-related spells. These subjects seemed to ignite something within me (pun fully intended) and took my magical abilities to another level.

Arithmancy is often underestimated as "just numbers," but nothing could be further from the truth. It's about what those numbers represent in the language of magic. Arithmancy finds applications in almost every field: Charms, Potions, Runes, Transfiguration, and even Alchemy. I can't help but wonder why Hogwarts introduces such an essential subject only in the third year.

Though I don't brag (most of the time), what came to me almost naturally was Transfiguration. It was also the branch I found most fascinating, as it allowed me to change the shape, size, and structure of objects with magic. I nailed the matchstick-to-needle transformation on my first try and even managed to change the needle's color on my second attempt.

Encouraged by my success, I pushed further. Soon, I was transforming buttons into coins, feathers into rocks, and completing every exercise detailed in the book with ease. After a while, I couldn't help but conclude:

"Maybe I am talented in Transfiguration."

I learned that Transfiguration requires more than just a flick of the wand. It demands will, intent, magical power, and a solid foundation of knowledge. Mastering it is no small feat, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.

But even after my surprise with Transfiguration, trying Incendio, the fire-making charm, felt like second nature. It was as though fire itself listened to my every command. The magic required to cast fire-related spells seemed minimal compared to others. In other words, the efficiency of my fire spells was significantly higher.

Add to that, when I wanted the flames to extinguish, boom — it was as if the flames never existed. Unfortunately, I couldn't experiment much in a confined room. (This common-sense realization only struck Maximus after he almost burned down half the room. Thankfully, he extinguished the fire before things got worse; otherwise, he'd be facing a massive fine.)

Aside from the usual 20-hour study sessions, during my rest hours, I started learning pureblood etiquette and the political climate of magical Britain. Unsurprisingly, the magical families were divided into three factions: Light, Dark, and Grey.

Light Families included: Potter, Black, Abbott, Diggory, Weasley, Longbottom, Macmillan, Prewett, Shacklebolt, and Doge.

Dark Families included: Carrow, Avery, Flint, Lestrange, Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Travers, Yaxley, Wilkes, Crabbe, Goyle, and Warrington.

Grey Families included: Bones, Greengrass, Slughorn, Smith, Bulstrode, Burke, Fawley, Ollivander, Shafiq, Brown, Marchbanks, Montague, Ogden.

Exploring this political structure was enlightening, though not particularly surprising. All these families hold seats in the Wizengamot, with the leader of the Light faction being one Albus Dumbledore. He's not just the current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, but also the Supreme Mugwump (head of the ICW) and the strongest wizard—or so people claim. He's also the current owner of the Elder Wand.

(A/N: I very much disagree. The strongest wizard ALIVE is the one and only Gellert Grindelwald. What do you think?)

After the fall of the Dark Lord, the current Dark faction is led by Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the Malfoy family and officially the richest man in Wizarding Britain.

The Grey faction is led by the Greengrass family and consists of families that didn't participate in the last war. These families are continuously pressured and tormented by members of both the Light and Dark factions to join their ranks. However, they maintain their neutrality, wielding significant power in the Wizengamot.

But here's where things get intriguing: the current Lord of the Potter family is Charles Potter. Yes, Charles Potter—one of the strongest Aurors in Britain, one of the few alive who dueled Grindelwald, and the uncle of James Potter.

The current Lord of the Black family is Arcturus Black, while Sirius Black holds the position of Senior Auror.

Another major change in this world: there is no Harry Potter. Instead of Harry, there is Henry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Both James Potter and Lily Potter (née Evans) are still alive—much to my shock. So, how did Henry become the Boy Who Lived?

The official story goes something like this: Peter Pettigrew, in a grand act of treachery, pulled a classic Pettigrew move and sold out the Potters while they were under the Fidelius Charm. But—plot twist!—instead of James and Lily meeting their untimely end, it was Henry Potter's grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, who were tragically killed. And then, by some inexplicable stroke of fate (or just sheer Potter luck), little Henry Potter somehow managed to banish the Dark Lord, earning himself the title of Wizarding Britain's greatest hero and savior.

(Author's Note: For those needing a quick family tree refresher—James Potter's parents were Fleamont Potter, brother of Charles Potter, and Euphemia Potter.)

Since James and Lily survived the ordeal, they, along with Sirius Black—who was obviously not about to let any rat get away—promptly captured Peter Pettigrew. The truth came out, and Wormtail was exposed as the Death Eater he was. With justice (for once) on their side, they secured him a lifelong stay in Azkaban, no chance of parole, no squeaky little Animagus escapes.

Meanwhile, over in the chaos department, the Light side wasn't in complete shambles, which meant that Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom got lucky—well, as lucky as one can be when dealing with Death Eaters. Thanks to some timely intervention from the Lestrange trio—Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan—the Longbottoms barely managed to dodge their original fate. Sure, they still had to spend a year recovering at St. Mungo's, but at least they got to come back to a relatively normal life instead of, well, the alternative.

With Voldemort officially six feet under (or wherever Dark Lords go when they kick the cauldron), the so-called "Dark Faction" fell apart. Most of its members, in a miraculous display of synchronized backpedaling, suddenly remembered that they had been totally under the Imperius Curse the entire time. Apart from the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr.—who were a little too enthusiastic about the whole Dark Lord business—the majority of Death Eaters managed to slip through the cracks. With a combination of bribery, corruption, and Dumbledore's ever-optimistic "forgive and forget" policy, most of them walked away from the war with nothing more than a mild inconvenience and a slightly damaged reputation.

And thus, Wizarding Britain, in its infinite wisdom, managed to reset the cycle once again.

The war didn't just shake up the Dark Faction—it also struck a devastating blow to the Light. Three prominent Light-aligned families—McKinnon, Prewett, and Bones—were almost wiped off the face of Wizarding Britain. Their last surviving members were as follows:

McKinnon – Hailey Black (née McKinnon), who, against all odds (and perhaps better judgment), married Sirius Black.

Prewett – Molly Weasley (née Prewett), who channeled all her war trauma into mothering an army of redheads.

Bones – Amelia Bones, the no-nonsense Ministry official, and her niece, Susan Bones, who had no idea she was carrying the weight of her family legacy on her tiny shoulders.

Meanwhile, the Neutral families? Well, they did what neutrals do best—stay out of the chaos, sip tea, and watch from the sidelines.

But, of course, time heals all wounds (or at least makes people forget why they were fighting in the first place), and now, with everyone fully recovered, the factions are right back at each other's throats. Because at the end of the day, nothing motivates wizards more than the pursuit of money, power, fame, and influence. You know—typical human greed.

But what does any of that have to do with me? Absolutely nothing.

My plan remains the same:

Go to Hogwarts.

Study hard.

Get stronger.

Be strong enough to be free.

Live my life to the fullest.

Simple, efficient, and, most importantly, drama-free.

Date: 1st September 1989 – Friday

Today is finally the day—the beginning of my journey.

Checklist time:✔️ Bag? Check.

✔️ Ticket? Check.

✔️ Books? Check.

✔️ Trunk? Check.

✔️ Time-Turner? Check.

✔️ Legilimency-Protection Locket? Double-check.

After running through this exact routine thirteen more times (because, let's be honest, paranoia is just preparedness in disguise), I finally set off for King's Cross Station. I left early—partly to avoid the crowd, mostly because I wasn't in the mood for unnecessary social interactions.

Once outside the Leaky Cauldron, I flagged down the Knight Bus. Big mistake. Cue the usual rollercoaster-on-wands ride that made me question my life choices. A silent thank you to the genius who invented Occlumency, because without it, I'd probably be emptying my stomach onto the cobbled streets of London.

I arrived at King's Cross quietly, blending into the morning rush. With just a bag and a small trunk, I maneuvered through the station like a shadow, unnoticed and unbothered. It wasn't hard to spot the wizards—especially the ones casually sprinting straight at a brick wall like it was completely normal. (Which, technically, it was.) So, I followed suit and—Voila!—there it was, the legendary Hogwarts Express, gleaming in all its red-and-gold glory.

Since I arrived early, Platform 9¾ wasn't too crowded yet. I had time to observe. Parents were bidding emotional farewells—mothers pressing lingering kisses onto their children's foreheads, fathers pulling their sons and daughters into firm, reassuring hugs.

And, for some reason… that hurt.

Like a sharp, invisible punch straight to the chest.

I quickly shoved the feeling aside—another silent thanks to Occlumency—and stepped onto the train.

The journey had officially begun.

Since I was early and had nothing better to do, I reached into my bag and pulled out a Rubik's Cube—a little Muggle puzzle I'd picked up during my stay at the Leaky Cauldron. My best record so far? 100 seconds. But today, I was determined to break the 80-second mark.

Ten attempts later, my frustration levels were climbing. Best time? 83 seconds. Still not good enough. I reset the cube, took a deep breath, and was just about to try again when—

Knock, knock.

A soft, sweet-sounding voice called out, "Hello! May I—Oh! It's you!! Maximus Ashborn."

And just like that, fate intervened for me. Because standing at my compartment door was none other than Jasmine Potter. Just my luck. Sigh.

(Jasmine Potter's Photo)

"Hello, Miss Potter," I greeted, keeping my voice neutral.

"Hello. Can I sit with you? The other compartments are already filling up, and I really want to sit somewhere quiet," she asked, polite but with a hint of pleading at the end.

I considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

With a flick of my wand, I levitated my trunk into the luggage rack above the seats. Simple. Efficient. But apparently, this tiny action had the same effect as if I had just juggled fire-breathing dragons, because Jasmine Potter looked absolutely baffled.

"Silent casting?" she asked, staring at me like I'd just sprouted a second head. She sat down across from me, still wide-eyed.

'Shit.'

I kept my expression neutral. "Nothing special. You can do it too. Just a matter of intent, determination, and knowledge. That's all it takes."

Hopefully, that would be enough to move the conversation along. Because the last thing I needed was extra attention.

"Will you teach me?" Jasmine asked, her green eyes locked onto mine, practically sparkling with excitement.

I considered for a moment. "I will. I have nothing better to do anyway."

With that, I drew my wand and began demonstrating the basics.

"Lumos." A soft glow illuminated the tip of my wand.

"Nox." The light vanished.

"That's the standard way of casting it," I began, glancing at her—only to notice that she wasn't looking at me at all.

Her gaze was fixed entirely on my wand, her eyes practically glued to it. I sighed and snapped my fingers to bring her back to reality.

"Ah! Sorry," she said, blinking rapidly. "I spaced out admiring your wand. It's beautiful."

I raised an eyebrow but allowed myself a small smirk. "Thanks. It's one of the things I'm proud of."

She quickly refocused. "Anyway, I can already cast Lumos and Nox easily. Watch."

She repeated the spells flawlessly, light flickering at her command. By this time, the platform outside had become noticeably louder—voices rising as last-minute passengers scrambled aboard. Then came the sharp blare of the train horn, signaling departure.

"It's time for the train to start moving," Jasmine observed.

"Yeah." I leaned back slightly. "Since you've got Lumos and Nox down, why don't you try them silently?"

Her brow furrowed in thought. "Silently? You mean casting Lumos and Nox without speaking?"