Hp:Merlin From Azkaban

"I've already paid for your room, including all your meals until school starts. Stay here, and someone from Hogwarts will take you to buy your school supplies."

Snape's voice was as cold as ever as he dropped Dana onto the bed in the Leaky Cauldron's guest room.

Although he knew Dana wouldn't respond, Snape still said what needed to be said.

"You should move past your grief as soon as possible. Grief is the most useless emotion."

For once, Snape's words almost sounded like comfort.

Dana turned his head and glanced at him.

He was too exhausted to argue, but if he had the energy, he would have scoffed—

"And have you, Professor Snape, moved past the grief of Lily Evans' death?"

Snape left without another word, leaving Dana alone in the silent room.

Dana rubbed his swollen, red eyes. His once brilliant lake-green irises were dull, weighed down by days of crying.

He lay there blankly, unable to sleep, unwilling to move.

At dinnertime, Old Tom, the Leaky Cauldron's owner, knocked on his door. When Dana didn't respond, Tom simply left a tray of food outside before sighing and walking away.

Snape had told him a little about the boy's situation, and even the hardened old innkeeper couldn't help but feel pity.

As midnight approached, Dana suddenly snapped back to awareness.

His body had become conditioned after years of summoning Merlin's artifacts in Azkaban.

He couldn't go on like this.

He had to do something.

His mother couldn't have died in vain, and the bastards who ruined his family had to pay.

But how?

Revenge required information—and Dana knew only one thing for certain:

Ollivander Avery was the one who orchestrated everything.

But who had helped him? Which Ministry official had accepted the bribe?

It was obvious—someone high-ranking had been afraid that the truth would come out, so they had silenced his mother.

Although Dana was only eleven, he had lived an entire lifetime in another world. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots.

He needed answers.

And the best place to buy answers?

Knockturn Alley.

But there were two problems.

First—walking into Knockturn Alley as an eleven-year-old would immediately make him a target.

Second—buying information required money.

And he had none.

Dana's fingers tightened around the handful of Merlin's beard hidden in his robes.

It seemed that once again, Merlin would be his solution.

Dana knew many spells, but his Transfiguration skills were weak.

He could barely change small objects, let alone alter his own appearance.

But Merlin…

Merlin could.

Legends claimed that Merlin could freely transform into any person, any creature.

Some even said it was his bloodline that granted him such powers.

So—

"Merlin's bloodline!"

Dana was taking a gamble. If he was wrong, he would try again tomorrow.

He had wanted to test this years ago, but changing one's bloodline was dangerous.

But now?

His mother was gone.

He had nothing left to lose.

If this killed him, then so be it.

The moment he spoke, something appeared in his palm—

A gooey, organic mass, pulsing faintly like living tissue.

Before Dana could react, it merged into his skin, sinking into his bloodstream.

Then the pain began.

A searing, unbearable agony spread through his veins, flooding his limbs, chest, and heart.

Dana convulsed, rolling on the bed as his body burned from the inside out.

Was this what the Cruciatus Curse felt like?

It lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

Finally, the pain faded.

Dana dragged himself to his feet.

His breath was ragged, his limbs still trembling.

He stumbled to the mirror—

And froze.

His hair was now pure white.

Not a single strand of black remained.

Not a problem. If anyone asked, he could simply claim grief had turned his hair white overnight.

But the real question was—

Did it work?

Dana took a deep breath.

Focusing his mind, he reached for the power now coursing through his veins.

A thought.

A shift.

And suddenly—

A perfect copy of Severus Snape stared back at him from the mirror.

It worked.

He could change his form.

There were probably more abilities to uncover, but this alone was enough for now.

"Is bloodline transformation always this fast?"

In the stories his mother used to tell, ancient wizards had complex, lengthy rituals for bloodline enhancements.

But if his golden finger was related to Merlin, then maybe…

Merlin didn't need rituals.

Shrugging off his doubts, Dana restored his appearance.

His stomach growled—he hadn't eaten all day.

He stepped to the door and retrieved the meal Old Tom had left.

A bowl of vegetable soup, a portion of fried potatoes, and a steak.

Simple, but—

The best meal he had eaten in four years.

After finishing, he set the empty plate outside and went to bed.

He was in no rush.

Years in Azkaban had taught him patience.

Tonight, he had solved his appearance problem.

Tomorrow, he would solve the money problem.

One step at a time.

The enemies wouldn't run away.

And revenge was best served cold.

The next morning, Dana was awakened by a knock at the door.

He sat up, momentarily disoriented.

The soft bed, the warmth of the blankets—

For a few seconds, he forgot he was no longer in Azkaban.

Then—

A dull ache pressed into his chest.

His mother's death was not something he could forget overnight.

He still wore the oversized wizard robes from Azkaban. He could have transfigured them, but Transfiguration required constant magic upkeep.

Instead, he had grown used to the loose fabric hanging from his frame.

With a sigh, he walked over and opened the door.

Standing there was a little girl holding a plate of food.

She had golden pigtails and a ruddy complexion.

"Hello! Are you Mr. Avery? My name is Hannah Abbott."

Dana blinked.

Hannah Abbott.

In Harry Potter fanfictions, she was often called the Iron Hat Queen—always the first to be Sorted.

"Hello, Miss Abbott. I'm Dana Avery."

Hannah fidgeted, her cheeks turning red.

"Ah… I heard you're starting at Hogwarts this year too. S-so, you can call me Hannah!"

"Alright, Hannah. You can call me Dana."

She bit her lip, then hesitantly said,

"Dana, your clothes seem… too big. My family has some of my brother's old clothes. If you don't mind, I could bring them for you?"

"Your brother?"

Hannah nodded.

"He was twenty years older than me. He… he sacrificed himself before I was born."

Dana didn't have to ask.

Everyone in this era knew the answer.

Who else but Voldemort had brought so much pain to the wizarding world?

Dana smiled faintly.

"I don't mind, Hannah. Thank you. You're very kind."

Hannah blushed harder—then bolted down the hall like a startled rabbit.

Dana chuckled.

Closing the door, he turned back to his breakfast.

End of the Chapter.

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