Train Ride

Six months had passed in a blur of intense study and meticulous planning. By September 1st, Damian felt prepared, though there was still much he had to refine and practice. His days had been filled with learning everything he could from the textbooks on "Defence Against the Dark Arts", "Charms", "Transfiguration", and the mind arts. Of these, "Charms" had proven to be the easiest—flicking a wand and focusing intent felt almost natural, like it was built into his very being.

"Transfiguration" was more of a challenge, but not overwhelming. By the end of these six months, he had mastered the basics expected for first-year students and had already started to experiment with second-year material. His ambitions extended far beyond the classroom, though. "Transfiguration" was a versatile tool, especially in battle. The idea of becoming an Animagus excited him—changing one's form could provide an edge most wizards could only dream of. But that was a project for another day.

"Potions", however, he just studied the theories and avoided brewing for now. The thought of Neville Longbottom's mishaps in his first potions class stuck with him. Potions were dangerous, and without a proper laboratory or supervision, he couldn't risk creating a corrosive brew that might dissolve an entire table. He'd leave that for when he had access to a safer environment. 

The mind arts had proven more complex. "Occlumency" required intense discipline, but he had made progress. At the very least, he could sense when someone tried to probe his mind. In subtle cases, he could even throw them out, though he knew his defences still had holes. "Legilimency" was another beast entirely. He hadn't had the opportunity to practice it on an actual person—it was the sort of magic that required a living target to develop fully. But he had plans for that. Next summer, he would order Kreacher to capture some homeless Muggle criminals. They would serve as test subjects, and he would practice "Legilimency" on them without any risk of exposure. 

Then there were the rituals Damian had discovered in "Rituals Moste Olde" just as the ROB had said. The first was particularly intriguing—an ancient magic-core enhancement ritual that required parts of a dead magical beast to improve one's body and magic. The basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets was the perfect candidate. Let Harry Potter slay the beast; he had no interest in stealing his moment of glory. But he would claim the parts afterward, using the basilisk's power to increase his own. The second ritual was more dangerous, but its potential was extraordinary. It allowed the caster to absorb souls and their memories, a work crafted by a dark wizard who had collected the souls of seven others to boost his power. It was perfect for dealing with Voldemort's horcruxes. The locket was already near him, hidden in Grimmauld Place, and the diadem would be accessible soon enough. The memories of Voldemort's rise could be his, giving him at least 15 to 20 years of invaluable magical knowledge.

But those plans would wait until the next summer. He had already set everything in motion; all that was left now was to attend Hogwarts and play his part. 

On the morning of September 1st, Damian stood in the hallway of 12 Grimmauld Place, feeling a sense of anticipation. This was it—the beginning of his time at Hogwarts. He had made sure everything was in order, packed meticulously, and mentally prepared for the journey ahead. He opened the window and brought Nyx outside and told her to fly to Hogwarts.

"Kreacher," he called. The house-elf appeared instantly, his ears drooping as usual, but he was attentive. "Take me to King's Cross Station. It's time."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher croaked, grabbing his trunk. With a crack, they disappeared from the house and reappeared in a busy part of London. King's Cross Station loomed ahead of them, crowded with Muggles rushing around in their daily routine, completely oblivious to the magic that lay just beyond the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten.

He pushed the trolley with his trunk forward, feeling a small thrill run through him. As he neared the barrier, he glanced around. There were a few other wizarding families making their way discreetly toward the same spot. 

Without hesitation, he strode toward the brick wall and passed through it effortlessly. On the other side was Platform 9¾, and before him stood the scarlet Hogwarts Express, billowing steam into the crisp September air. Students and their families milled about, saying their goodbyes, while he felt the excitement building inside him.

"Let's begin," he whispered to himself, stepping onto the platform with his sights set on the future.

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He found an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express and immediately sat down, pulling out one of the second-year 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' books that Kreacher had purchased for him from Diagon Alley. The train rumbled softly as it started its journey, but he was already lost in his reading. As expected, most of the spells and theory were things Damian had already covered in his studies over the past six months.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the compartment door. He looked up to see two girls standing there, one blonde and the other chestnut, smiling politely.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" one of them asked.

"Not at all," he replied with a slight smile. Damian wasn't opposed to company, and forming alliances at Hogwarts was something he had already planned. He stood up to help them with their bags, and with a whispered 'Wingardium Leviosa,' he levitated their trunks into the luggage racks.

Their eyes widened, and one of them gasped, clearly impressed.

"Did you just cast that silently?" the blonde girl asked, awestruck. "Not even many adults can do that!"

Damian smirked slightly and shook his head. "Not quite. I whispered the spell, but I am close to mastering silent casting. A matter of practice, really."

Both girls stared at him, clearly intrigued. He took the opportunity to introduce himself, stepping forward with a confident air. Walburga's endless lessons in etiquette came back to him in full force, from posture to speech, every gesture intentional.

Taking the hand of the blonde girl first, he kissed her knuckles lightly. "Damian Black, heir to the House of Black."

Her eyes widened even more as he turned to the other girl and repeated the same gesture.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass," the blonde girl introduced herself. "Heiress of the Greengrass family."

"And I'm Tracey Davis, of the House of Davis," the other girl added.

They exchanged a look, still processing the fact that he was the Black heir. "But…we thought the Black family had gone extinct. The only remaining male is in Azkaban," Daphne said cautiously.

Damian nodded, his smile fading slightly as he gave a brief explanation. "I'm Sirius Black's son, but I was raised in an orphanage. It's…complicated." He kept his tone neutral, not wanting to delve too deeply into that topic.

They chatted for a bit longer, discussing their excitement about Hogwarts and their expectations. Daphne was a serious girl with a cold face that told everyone she had started training in Occlumency. Tracey was a cheerful girl who was bubbly in nature, her attitude giving a positive atmosphere in the cabin. Both girls were a stark contrast but oddly matched.

Damian found out that both girls hoped to be sorted into Slytherin, and when they asked him about his house preference, he didn't hesitate.

"Slytherin," Damian answered. "It suits my ambitions and, well, let's just say I'm more cunning than brave." Besides, the Pottermore quiz in his last life did sort him into Slytherin, so it was only fitting.

They seemed pleased with his answer, especially Tracey, who gave an approving nod. "Good choice. The other houses just don't have the same…power."

The conversation was pleasant, and he enjoyed their company. However, just as he was about to return to his book, the compartment door burst open with a loud thud. A bushy-haired girl stood in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled.

"Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one," she said quickly, her eyes darting around the room.

Damian barely glanced up, still holding his book in his hand. The interruption was irritating, but he remained composed. "No, we haven't seen it," he replied curtly.

The girl, however, seemed more interested in the book he was reading. Her eyes widened when she saw it. "Oh! You're reading second-year material? I've already read all the first-year books, but I haven't gotten to that one yet. Could I borrow it?"

Her boldness caught him off guard, and he looked up at her coldly. "No," Damian said simply, his voice firm.

She frowned, looking taken aback. "That's rather rude of you," she snapped before turning on her heel and storming out of the compartment.

As the door slammed shut, Daphne and Tracey exchanged furious glances. "The nerve of her!" Daphne exclaimed. "Barging in here without even knocking and then calling you rude for not handing over your book!"

"Exactly," Tracey agreed, crossing her arms. "She didn't even introduce herself properly."

Damian gave them a calm smile, not bothered by the girl's outburst. "It's fine," he said. "Some people just don't understand decorum." He picked up his book again, resuming his reading as if nothing had happened.

The girls settled back into their seats, and after a while, an announcement came over the train's speakers. "We will be arriving at Hogsmeade in five minutes. Please leave your trunks on the train—they will be delivered to your respective houses."