HP: The Third Child of Prophecy

Chapter 140: Return, Rivalries, and Restless Nights

Time: Evening, after returning from Atlantis

Location: Ravenclaw Common Room

The moment Alexander Smith, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts, they instinctively staggered a bit, as if their minds were still submerged in the vastness of Atlantis's underwater city.

"It feels like... surfacing after a deep dive," Hermione murmured, adjusting her robe as she settled back into the Ravenclaw common room.

"That was insane," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "I mean, that potion system, the magic structure—it's like we were living in a different world."

"You were," Alexander said plainly, flopping onto the couch near the fireplace. "That's the point. Atlantis is as old as some of the magical bloodlines—older, probably. You saw what they do differently."

"But it's weird being back here," Harry continued. "As if Hogwarts is suddenly too small. Too... normal."

Hermione didn't respond immediately. She was reviewing her notes from the library in Atlantis, already compiling questions she wanted to investigate in the Hogwarts library. Her pen danced across the pages of her notebook, her brows slightly furrowed.

Meanwhile, Alexander gazed into the flames. He was silent, but his mind was racing—thinking of the strategic advantage Atlantis could provide in the long term. Their potion method alone had military and academic potential, not to mention their undersea alliances.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tapping at the window. An unfamiliar owl hovered outside, clutching a thick brown package in its claws.

Harry jumped up and opened the window, allowing the owl to land and release its burden. The parcel dropped with a soft thud onto a nearby armchair. Harry froze, recognizing the logo on the outer packaging—a sweeping gold signature reading "Halok Industries."

"That's..." Hermione's voice trailed off.

"My broomstick," Harry whispered.

He didn't unwrap it immediately. Instead, he took a moment to hold it, feeling the weight, the potential. The Halok 2000 wasn't just any broom. It was a newly developed model said to rival the Firebolt in stability and speed, a gift from an anonymous sponsor who, he suspected, might not be as anonymous as they claimed.

Alexander watched quietly as Harry peeled away the packaging. The polished mahogany shimmered in the firelight, and the golden letters glinted on the handle.

"You're lucky," Alexander commented, arms crossed. "You're about to get more attention than you already have."

Harry looked up, hesitant. "You think this'll be... a problem?"

"Not for you," Alexander said. "But maybe for Ron. Or others. Hogwarts is full of people who say they're your friend until you get something they wanted first."

Hermione gave Alexander a pointed look but said nothing. She understood what he meant, even if she didn't like how bluntly he put it.

Just then, footsteps sounded on the staircase, and Ron burst in, out of breath, cheeks red from running.

"Harry!" he called. "Your new broom's here? You got it?"

"Yeah, just now," Harry said, stepping aside as Ron surged forward to get a look.

"Bloody hell..." Ron said, reverent. "That's better than Charlie's old Nimbus. No way! Is that a stabilizer charm on the tail?"

Alexander leaned against the wall, watching silently. It was starting again—little sparks of jealousy that would eventually grow if not handled well.

"I bet you're going to fly circles around all of us at the next practice," Ron said, not even noticing that Hermione was now packing up her things to head for the girls' dormitory.

"Not if Roger Davis has anything to say about it," Alexander muttered.

Harry turned to him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Tomorrow. The real games of Hogwarts don't just happen on the Quidditch field."

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Later that night, Alexander found himself tossing and turning in bed. Something about being back at Hogwarts felt like putting on old clothes that didn't fit anymore. The castle was still beautiful, the magic still thrummed in the walls, but now he had tasted something older, deeper—something more connected.

"Atlantis isn't just a place," he whispered to himself. "It's a lesson."

As sleep finally claimed him, Alexander dreamed of spinning stars in a library sky and glowing wands made of coral and bone. He dreamed of choices, alliances, and a storm building somewhere far beyond the sea.

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