The Ambrosia Room of Requirement had outdone itself again. Books stretched toward a vaulted ceiling that shouldn't exist, rows upon rows of leather-bound volumes, some so ancient their spines had cracked and faded to illegibility. Chris sat at a massive oak desk that gleamed with the patina of centuries, Merlin's journals spread before him like the petals of an arcane flower, each page filled with the spidery handwriting of his legendary ancestor.
He turned another page in Merlin's journal, scanning entries about magical theory that would baffle most Ministry researchers, when a particular memory surfaced, not from the journal, but from his previous life. A fanfiction he'd read, one of those creative imaginings of how Harry Potter might have defeated Voldemort differently. In it, the protagonist had performed a ritual that targeted one Horcrux and, through magical resonance, destroyed all the others simultaneously.
Pure fiction, of course, but the concept...
"Show me books on Horcruxes and soul rituals," Chris commanded, his voice hurrying with purpose in the otherwise silent room.
The library around him shifted, shelves sliding sideways with a sound like distant thunder, books rearranging themselves as if invisible hands were sorting through the collection. Volumes flew from distant corners, some trailing dust in their wake, others glowing faintly with containment spells designed to prevent dark magic from seeping out. They arranged themselves on the desk and nearby tables, forming neat stacks according to some classification system only the room understood.
Chris stood, surveying the new arrivals with a critical eye. Some titles he recognized, "Secrets of the Darkest Art," "Magick Moste Evile", but others were unfamiliar, their titles written in languages that shifted and rearranged themselves as he watched, the magic of the room translating ancient scripts to modern English. He selected a promising tome bound in what appeared to be dragonhide, its pages crackling with age as he opened it.
For the next two hours, he immersed himself in knowledge supposedly forbidden to all but the most trusted Department of Mysteries researchers. His eyes scanned passages detailing the abominable process of creating Horcruxes, the magical theory behind soul fragmentation, and the documented cases of wizards who had attempted immortality through such means. His fingers grew dusty from turning brittle pages, his mind increasingly focused on finding a connection between these fragments of dark lore and the fictional ritual that had surfaced in his memory.
Most texts confirmed what he already knew, that Horcruxes were nearly indestructible except by a few extremely potent substances like basilisk venom, Fiendfyre, or goblin-forged weapons that had absorbed such substances. None mentioned a ritual that could target multiple soul fragments simultaneously.
As his frustration mounted, Chris noticed a slim volume that had somehow slipped beneath a larger stack. It was bound in black leather so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light, with no title visible on its spine. When he pulled it free, the cover revealed itself: "Ritual of Soul Execution" in letters that appeared to have been burned into the leather rather than printed or embossed.
His pulse quickened as he carefully opened the book, its binding creaking in protest. The text inside was handwritten in a precise, elegant script, the ink maintaining a deep crimson hue that made him suspect it wasn't entirely composed of mundane ingredients. The introduction described exactly what he sought, a ritual designed not merely to destroy a Horcrux, but to obliterate a soul entirely, regardless of how many fragments it had been split into.
"The Ritual of Soul Execution requires the following," Chris read, his voice barely above a whisper. "First, a primary vessel containing one fragment of the target soul. Second, a ritual circle inscribed with the Runes of Annihilation, drawn using a mixture of phoenix ash, basilisk blood, and the freely given hairs of a unicorn. Third, the ritual must be performed during the dark of the moon when the veil between worlds is thinnest."
The instructions continued in meticulous detail, explaining how the ritual would draw all soul fragments into the primary vessel through magical resonance, then obliterate them completely while purifying the residual dark energy to prevent corruption of the surrounding area. It was elegant, comprehensive, and terrifying in its implications.
At the bottom of the final page, in a different hand, one he recognized from Merlin's journals, was a faded warning: "This ritual, while powerful, may have unforeseen consequences on those that perform it. The ritual wipes a soul from existence, never to reincarnate. This is an unnatural and taboo thing. Proceed with utmost care."
Chris sat back in his chair, the weight of Merlin's warning settling on his shoulders like a physical burden. Destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes was one thing, they were abominations that needed to be eliminated. But to erase a soul completely from the cycle of existence? That ventured into territory that might draw the attention of forces beyond the magical world.
He remembered his encounter with the One Above All, the being who had granted him this second chance at life. Would using such a ritual be seen as overstepping, as playing with cosmic forces beyond his right? Might Lady Death herself take offense at a mortal circumventing her domain so completely?
Yet the alternative was to follow the original timeline, years of conflict, countless deaths, suffering that stretched far beyond the wizarding community. If he had been given this second chance to make things better, wasn't this exactly the kind of decisive action he should take?
Chris traced his finger over Merlin's warning again, feeling the indentation left by his ancestor's quill centuries ago. The path forward had suddenly become both clearer and more perilous. He had found his weapon against Voldemort, but wielding it might come with a price he couldn't yet calculate.
Chris closed the black-bound volume with gentle reverence, his mind racing through implications that stretched far beyond the ritual's primary purpose. If all soul fragments would be pulled into one container before destruction, what might happen to Harry Potter, whose scar housed a fragment of Voldemort's fractured soul? And what of the Death Eaters, whose Dark Marks formed magical connections to their master? The ritual's warning about "unforeseen consequences" suddenly seemed directed at exactly these complications.
He needed counsel, not from Hogwarts professors who would ask too many questions, nor from students who couldn't possibly understand, but from the only beings who knew both his true nature and his goals.
"Jilly. Bouncy," he called softly, infusing his voice with the subtle magic that activated their bond.
Two distinct pops broke the library's silence. Jilly appeared first, her small form dignified in her perfectly pressed Ambrosia uniform, amber eyes scanning the room before focusing on Chris. Bouncy materialized a split second later, his patchwork uniform a riot of carefully selected fabrics that somehow managed to include every colour imaginable while still featuring the Ambrosia crest prominently on his chest.
"Master Chrissy called Bouncy!" the excitable elf announced, bouncing on his toes as his name suggested, ears flapping with each movement. "What adventure awaits? What service can Bouncy provide? Is it time for snacks? Or perhaps a daring rescue mission?"
Jilly shot her counterpart a look that would have silenced a less exuberant elf. "Master has summoned us," she observed calmly. "This suggests a matter of significance." Her gaze swept over the ancient tomes spread across the desk, lingering on the black-bound ritual book with a flicker of concern.
"I've found something," Chris said, gesturing for them to approach the desk. "A ritual that could permanently destroy Voldemort, not just his body, but his soul itself, including all the Horcruxes."
Bouncy gasped dramatically, his eyes growing even wider. "Master Chrissy will vanquish the evil wizard! Like heroes in stories! The Dark Lord will be gone forever and ever!"
"That's the intention," Chris agreed, "but there's a complication." He opened the black volume to the warning at the end. "This ritual pulls all soul fragments into one container before destroying them. But Harry Potter has a fragment in his scar, and the Death Eaters have magical connections through their Dark Marks. What if the ritual harms them unexpectedly? What if it pulls on Harry's own soul along with Voldemort's fragment?"
Jilly's ears drooped slightly, a rare display of emotion that revealed her concern. "Master, such ancient magic is unpredictable by nature. The warning speaks of consequences, this extends beyond ordinary wizarding concerns into realms that even house elves know to respect." Her slender fingers brushed the page with reverent caution. "The magics that govern souls and death are not to be manipulated lightly."
"But Master Chrissy could save everyone!" Bouncy interjected, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "No more scary Dark Lord means no more danger to good wizards and witches and elves! Worth the risk, yes yes!"
Chris studied his two loyal servants, so different in temperament yet equally devoted to his wellbeing. Jilly represented caution, wisdom, and the depth of magical knowledge preserved through centuries of service to the Ambrosia line. Bouncy embodied courage, optimism, and the willingness to take bold action when necessary. Both perspectives held value.
"You're both right," he said finally. "The risk is real, but so is the potential benefit. What I need is a way to protect Harry specifically before performing the main ritual."
Chris turned back to the empty space before the nearest bookshelf. "I need information on Horcrux transfer rituals, specifically, safe extraction of a soul fragment from a living host."
The Room of Requirement responded immediately. The bookshelves shuddered and began to shift, volumes sliding back into their places as new ones emerged. One particularly tall shelf swivelled completely, revealing a hidden compartment behind it. From this secret alcove, a cylindrical container rose slowly into view, its bronze surface engraved with protective runes that glowed faintly blue in the library's soft light.
Chris approached carefully, recognizing the containment techniques used for especially powerful magical texts. The container's lid unsealed with a soft hiss when he touched it, revealing an ancient scroll nestled in cushioning fabric that smelled faintly of cedar. With careful hands, he extracted the scroll and carried it back to the desk.
The yellowed parchment unrolled reluctantly, its edges curling as if trying to return to their centuries-long position. The writing upon it wasn't ink but something crystalline that caught the light, shifting from black to deep blue depending on the angle. Runes crowded the margins, their purpose clearly to contain and focus the magic described in the main text.
"Horcrux Transfer Ritual," Chris read aloud, his finger tracing the crystalline title that sparkled under his touch. "A method for the safe extraction and containment of soul fragments embedded in living vessels."
The scroll detailed a complex but elegant ritual that would draw out a soul fragment without damaging the host or the fragment itself. It required a prepared receptacle, ideally an object with strong magical properties, a precise arrangement of lunar-charged crystals, and an incantation in what appeared to be proto-Celtic, so ancient that even Chris's gift for languages was challenged by its pronunciation.
"This is it," he breathed, relief washing through him like a physical sensation. "With this, I can extract the Horcrux from Harry's scar before performing the Soul Execution Ritual. He'll be protected."
Jilly leaned closer, her professional demeanour temporarily overshadowed by academic interest. "The method appears sound," she observed. "The crystal arrangement creates a controlled pathway for the soul fragment, preventing it from seeking another living host during transfer."
"And then POOF!" Bouncy exclaimed, mimicking an explosion with his hands. "Evil soul bits all gone forever with the big scary ritual!"
Chris nodded, laying the scroll beside the black-bound book. Together, they represented a complete solution, a way to protect the innocent while ensuring Voldemort's final destruction. The path forward, which had seemed fraught with moral complications just minutes ago, now appeared clear and justifiable.
"I'll need to prepare carefully," he said, more to himself than to the elves. "The transfer ritual needs to be performed first, in absolute secrecy. I'll need access to Harry without raising suspicion."
"Master will find a way," Jilly said with quiet confidence. "The Ambrosia line has always excelled at achieving the impossible."
"And Bouncy will help!" the smaller elf declared, puffing out his chest. "Whatever Master Chrissy needs, ingredients, distractions, sneaky-sneaky help, Bouncy can do it all!"
Chris smiled at their unwavering support. With these two rituals, he now possessed the means to fundamentally alter the timeline, not just delaying Voldemort's return as his unicorn rescue had done, but potentially preventing it entirely. The scope of the change would be massive, rippling forward through years of what would have been war and suffering.
"Thank you both," he said simply, his gratitude extending beyond their current assistance to encompass all they had done since his rebirth into this world. "We have work to do."
With both rituals secured, Chris leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his shifting weight. The path forward was clearer now, but success would require more than just magical knowledge, it demanded careful strategy, precise timing, and methodical execution. He pulled a fresh sheet of parchment toward him and selected a ravens-feather quill from the ornate holder on the desk, its point already perfectly sharpened by the room's attentive magic.
"A plan," he murmured to himself, dipping the quill into an inkwell of deep blue that matched the streaks in his white hair. "Step by step."
At the top of the parchment, he wrote in confident strokes: "Operation Phoenix: Eliminating Voldemort and Improving Hogwarts." The grandiose title made him smile slightly, perhaps his eleven-year-old body was influencing his flair for the dramatic after all. Below it, he began a numbered list, each entry carefully considered before being committed to parchment.
Take special apartment trunk from Ambrosia Manor
This was essential. While the Room of Requirement offered privacy, he couldn't rely on having exclusive access to it indefinitely. The apartment trunk would provide a completely secure space for ritual preparation, ingredient storage, and ultimately the rituals themselves. One of his ancestors had commissioned it during the Goblin Rebellions as a portable sanctuary, and unlike modern equivalents, it contained a dedicated ritual chamber with built-in protective enchantments. The trunk appeared ordinary from the outside, plain brown leather with modest brass fittings, but contained multiple rooms inside, including a library, bedroom, laboratory, and the all-important ritual space.
Steal Marauder's Map from Weasley twins
Chris tapped the quill against his chin thoughtfully. The Marauder's Map was currently in the possession of Fred and George Weasley, he'd confirmed this by overhearing them reference it when planning a prank on Filch before the holidays. The map showed everyone's location within Hogwarts in real-time, an invaluable tool for his operations. It would allow him to avoid detection, time his movements perfectly, and locate specific individuals when needed. Taking it would require careful planning, but was absolutely necessary.
Use map to verify Dumbledore's absence during riskier operations
He underlined this entry twice. Dumbledore represented the greatest threat to his plans, not because the Headmaster was malevolent, but because his protective instincts toward Harry and his uncanny ability to sense powerful magic would make him an insurmountable obstacle if he caught wind of Chris's activities. The map would allow Chris to ensure Dumbledore was off-grounds or sufficiently occupied before attempting anything that might trigger the castle's magical sensors or require access to restricted areas.
Swap invisibility cloaks with Harry
This entry gave him pause. It was perhaps the most morally questionable part of his plan, as it involved taking something precious from Harry, the invisibility cloak that had been his father's. But Harry's cloak was no ordinary invisibility cloak; it was the legendary Cloak of Invisibility, one of the Deathly Hallows, capable of concealing the wearer from Death herself. For the rituals he planned, such protection might prove crucial. He would replace it with a high-quality ordinary invisibility cloak. Harry wouldn't even notice the difference given his inexperience with magical artifacts. Plus, Chris really wanted to own the Hallows
Steal Philosopher's Stone to return to Nicolas Flamel
The stone was currently hidden within Hogwarts, at the end of Dumbledore's elaborate obstacle course on the third floor. In the original timeline, Quirrellmort would attempt to steal it later in the year, ultimately thwarted by Harry. By removing it first and returning it to its rightful owner, Chris would both deny Voldemort this path to resurrection and protect the Flamels from Dumbledore's manipulations. Nicolas and Perenelle had lived for over six hundred years, their "acceptance" of death after the stone's supposed destruction had always struck him as suspiciously convenient for Dumbledore's narrative.
Remove Harry's Horcrux using transfer ritual
The newly discovered ritual would allow him to safely extract the soul fragment from Harry's scar without harming the boy. This step required absolute precision, one mistake could damage Harry's own soul or allow the fragment to seek another host. He would need the prepared apartment trunk, privacy, and enough time to perform the ritual completely undisturbed. The extracted Horcrux would serve as the primary vessel for the Soul Execution Ritual.
Perform Soul Execution Ritual to destroy Voldemort
With Harry's fragment safely removed and contained, Chris would perform the ultimate ritual. All remaining Horcruxes, the diary, cup, diadem, locket, and ring, would be pulled magically into the primary vessel, then obliterated completely. Voldemort's soul would cease to exist, eliminating the threat permanently rather than merely delaying it as in the original timeline.
Capture Peter Pettigrew and deliver to authorities
With Voldemort eliminated, he could focus on correcting other injustices. Pettigrew, currently disguised as Ron Weasley's pet rat Scabbers, needed to be captured and turned in to the proper authorities. This would exonerate Sirius Black and give Harry the chance for a proper family life with his godfather. The timing of this step was flexible, it could be moved earlier if an opportunity presented itself.
Chris set down his quill and examined the list with critical eyes. Each step built upon the previous ones, creating a sequence that minimized risk while maximizing impact. The plan would fundamentally alter the timeline from this point forward, Harry would never face Voldemort in the chamber beneath the school, never encounter a resurrected Dark Lord in a graveyard, never need to sacrifice himself in the Forbidden Forest.
Thousands of lives would be saved. Families would remain intact. The wizarding world would be spared years of terror and conflict.
There were risks, of course. Merlin's warning about the Soul Execution Ritual carried weight. The cosmic forces that governed life, death, and rebirth might take notice of such a fundamental violation of their domain. But he had been given this second chance for a reason, hadn't he? The One Above All had granted him the power and knowledge to make a difference. Surely using those gifts to prevent suffering was the right course of action.
Chris rolled up the parchment carefully, securing it with a tap of his wand that sealed it against any eyes but his own. The list represented not just a plan to defeat Voldemort, but a declaration of purpose, a statement that this time, things would be different. This time, the story would have a better ending.
He felt a swell of satisfaction as he tucked the scroll into his robe pocket. After months of careful observation and preparation at Hogwarts, of building relationships and establishing his place within the school, he was finally ready to take direct action.
The final day of Christmas break dawned clear and crisp. Chris moved, gathering the books and notes he'd accumulated during his research sessions. The two ritual texts, the Soul Execution Ritual bound in that disturbing black leather and the ancient Horcrux Transfer scroll now carefully preserved in its protective case, sat at the center of his workspace, the literal and figurative heart of everything that would follow.
"I need to pack everything securely," he murmured to the room, which immediately provided a series of protective sleeves and leather document cases.
His plan required more than just knowledge, however. He needed a secure space, one that could travel with him and remain undetected within Hogwarts' walls. He'd sent instructions to Jilly two days earlier, and the trunk should be waiting in his room, retrieved from the family vault where it had rested for over a millennia.
After carefully preserving and organizing his notes, Chris shrunk the materials with a shrinking charm that would allow them to be restored without damage. The Room of Requirement seemed to sigh around him as he prepared to leave, its magical atmosphere shifting subtly as if aware that their regular sessions might soon come to an end.
"Thank you," he said simply to the empty air. The room had been his most valuable ally, providing not just privacy but access to knowledge that even all the libraries in the world combined couldn't provide.
With a final glance at the transformed library, Chris stepped through the door and back into the ordinary sitting room at Ambrosia Manor. The door vanished behind him, melting into a solid door until he would need it again.
Back in his room, the apartment trunk waited beside his desk, looking deceptively ordinary, a rectangular case of dark brown leather with brass corners and a simple lock. Nothing about its exterior suggested the extraordinary space contained within, which was precisely why his ancestor had commissioned it during a time when wizarding travellers often faced suspicious scrutiny.
"Jilly has cleaned and prepared all rooms inside the trunk," Bouncy explained, patting the leather surface affectionately. "Fresh linens on the bed, books arranged in the library, potions cabinet restocked, and the ritual chamber has been purified with sacred sage and unicorn-blessed water!"
Chris placed his hand on the trunk's lid, feeling the subtle vibration of old magic responding to his touch. "Ambrosia Sanctum," he whispered, and the lock clicked open.
The lid rose by itself, revealing not the expected storage space but a polished wooden staircase descending into warm, golden light. Chris descended the steps, entering a space that defied the physical limitations of the trunk's exterior dimensions.
He emerged into a comfortable sitting room furnished with antique pieces that managed to be both elegant and practical. A fireplace crackled with flames that required no fuel, casting dancing light across bookshelves that lined one wall. Three doors led from this central space, one to a bedroom with a four-poster bed and attached bathroom, another to a well-equipped potions laboratory, and the third to the ritual chamber.
This last room was the trunk's true treasure. Circular in shape, its walls were inlaid with protective runes crafted from precious metals and rare woods. The floor featured a permanent ritual circle of inlaid silver, designed to be activated with specific magical sequences depending on the working required. Shelves held rare components in preservation containers, and a small altar stood at the room's northern point, ready for the placement of focal objects.
"It's perfect," Chris said, his voice echoing slightly in the sacred space. He could perform both rituals here, protected from detection and interruption.
Returning to the sitting room, he carefully stored his shrunken research materials in a hidden compartment within the bookshelf, then added the components he would need for both rituals, vials of ingredients so rare that some were believed extinct, crystals charged under specific astronomical alignments, ritual tools of silver, gold, and ancient wood.
Once everything was secured, Chris climbed back up the stairs and closed the trunk. "Diminuendo," he cast, reducing the trunk to the size of a pocket watch. A fine silver chain, already attached to the miniaturized trunk, allowed him to wear it around his neck alongside the enchanted pendant that contained his shrunken family grimoire.
Both magical containers rested against his chest, concealed beneath his robes but comfortingly present, his family's legacy and knowledge literally close to his heart.
"Is Master returning to Hogwarts now?" Jilly asked, appearing silently in the doorway with the dignified posture that never quite concealed her affection.
"Yes," Chris confirmed. "The new term starts tomorrow, and I need to be on the train with the other students. I will also be good to see Susan and Hannah again."
Jilly nodded, her large eyes studying him with knowing perception. "Master has set himself a difficult task. Remember that even the greatest wizards must occasionally rest and seek assistance."
"I'll be careful," Chris promised, touched by her concern. "And I'll call if I need you."
In the entrance hall, Bouncy had already arranged his regular school trunk near the grand fireplace, its brass Hogwarts crest polished to a mirror shine. The elf bounced from foot to foot, clearly struggling to contain a mixture of excitement for Chris's adventures and sadness at his departure.
"Master Chrissy must send notes about his progress!" Bouncy insisted. "Bouncy waits by the window every day for Master's owl! Very dedicated waiting, the best waiting!"
Chris smiled, kneeling to meet the elf at eye level. "I'll write when I can. And remember, if I call for either of you, it might be urgent."
"We will come instantly," Jilly assured him, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
With final goodbyes exchanged, Chris stood before the ornate marble fireplace, its mantel carved with the Ambrosia family crest. He took a handful of Floo powder from the silver container Jilly offered, the fine, glittering substance cool against his palm.
He paused for one breath, feeling the weight of the two magical containers against his chest, the knowledge they contained, and the power they represented. Then, with clear purpose, he tossed the powder into the flames, watching them flare emerald green.
"King's Cross Station!" he announced firmly, stepping into the magical fire.
The world dissolved into spinning green chaos, fireplaces flashing past too quickly to identify as the Floo network transported him across Britain. The disorientation of Floo travel mirrored his own internal state, excitement and apprehension swirling together, purpose mixed with awareness of risk.
As he spun toward London and the journey that would return him to Hogwarts, one thought crystallized through the chaos: the time for observation and preparation was over. The next phase, action, was about to begin.
Chris emerged from the public Floo in a specially designated alcove at King's Cross Station, brushing fine ash from his shoulders with practiced movements. The transition from the green flames to the bustle of the station always felt jarring, one moment surrounded by magic, the next standing amid the rush of London life. Parents hustled children with owls and trunks, their voices creating a symphony of last-minute instructions and affectionate farewells that echoed against the station's vaulted ceiling.
He straightened his perfectly tailored robes, now indistinguishable from standard wizard traveling attire thanks to Jilly's modifications. The miniaturized apartment trunk hung safely beneath his shirt on its silver chain, resting beside his family grimoire, both hidden from curious eyes. His regular school trunk had been sent ahead with Bouncy's assistance and would be waiting for him on the luggage rack of the Hogwarts Express.
January's winter sunshine filtered weakly through the station's high windows, illuminating swirls of steam and the multi-coloured robes of wizarding families preparing for separation after the holiday reunions. Children clutched new Christmas gifts, everything from enchanted snow globes containing miniature quidditch matches to the latest racing brooms, still wrapped in manufacturer's packaging. Parents performed last-minute cleaning charms on chocolate-smeared faces and straightened crooked hats with that particular blend of exasperation and affection unique to the season's end.
"Chris! Over here!"
Hannah Abbott's voice cut through the crowd, her blonde braids bouncing as she waved enthusiastically from near the barrier to Platform 9¾. Beside her, Susan Bones stood with her usual composed posture, strawberry-blonde hair neatly plaited and secured with what appeared to be a new silver clip shaped like a badger, likely a Christmas gift from her aunt.
Chris navigated through the crowd toward them, mentally shifting gears from strategic mastermind to ordinary eleven-year-old Hufflepuff reuniting with friends. The transition had become second nature over the months, a necessary performance that was becoming increasingly natural.
"Hannah, Susan," he greeted them with a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Happy New Year. How were your holidays?"
Hannah launched immediately into an animated description of her family's Christmas celebration, complete with a disastrous attempt at enchanted Christmas crackers that had released a cloud of mischievous garden gnomes into her grandmother's immaculate living room. "Gran was still finding them behind the sofa when I left this morning," she concluded with a giggle. "Dad says they'll probably be there until Easter."
Susan's holiday had been more subdued but equally pleasant. "Aunt Amelia managed to get three whole days away from the Ministry," she explained as they moved toward the barrier. "We visited the magical ice gardens in York and had Christmas dinner with some of her colleagues from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"What about you, Chris?" Hannah asked, adjusting her woollen hat against the January chill. "Did you spend Christmas at home? Did you get anything interesting?"
Chris nodded, keeping his response deliberately light but truthful. "Yes, just me and the house elves. It was quiet but nice. Plenty of time for reading and exploring the grounds." He smiled, remembering the unicorn rescue, which now felt like it had happened months rather than days ago. "Jilly and Bouncy gave me a Nimbus 2000 for Christmas."
Both girls' eyes widened appropriately. "A Nimbus 2000?" Susan repeated, sounding impressed. "That's the same model Potter has!"
"We'll have to sneak out for flying practice so you can show us," Hannah added. "Though I'm still not convinced brooms and I are naturally compatible."
"Shall we find a compartment?" Susan suggested practically. "The good ones fill up quickly."
They boarded midway down the train, navigating the narrow corridor already crowded with students greeting friends and comparing Christmas gifts. After passing several full compartments and declining an invitation to join a group of second-year Hufflepuffs engaged in an intense game of Exploding Snap, they found an empty compartment near the rear of the train.
As promised, Chris's school trunk already waited on the luggage rack, positioned as if it had been loaded with all the others rather than transported by house elf magic. He helped the girls stow their trunks overhead, Susan's neat leather case with the Bones family crest embossed in silver and Hannah's slightly more worn trunk decorated with colorful stickers from various magical tourist attractions.
They settled onto the cushioned seats with sighs of contentment, Hannah and Susan facing forward, Chris opposite them with his back to the engine. The familiar surroundings of the train compartment, threadbare velvet seats that had carried generations of students, slightly fogged windows bearing the fingerprints of countless children pressing their faces against the glass, the comforting rattle of the floor beneath their feet, created a sense of normalcy that felt both reassuring and oddly discordant given what Chris knew lay ahead.
Outside on the platform, final goodbyes were exchanged as the conductor's whistle pierced the morning air. Parents waved as students leaned out windows for last-minute reminders and affectionate farewells. With a lurch and the distinctive chuff-chuff of its magical engine, the Hogwarts Express began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing momentum.
As the platform slid away and the train rounded the first bend, London giving way to suburbs and eventually the winter countryside, Chris felt a curious blend of emotions. He was returning to school exactly as he had on September 1st, yet everything had changed. The knowledge he carried, the rituals he had discovered, and the plans he had made transformed this ordinary journey into something profoundly different, the first step toward rewriting the future.
The Hufflepuff dormitory welcomed Chris back with its familiar comforts, the perpetual scent of fresh earth and herbs from the enchanted plants that lined the circular windows, the gentle crackle of the ever-burning fire in the common room hearth, the soft yellow glow of copper lamps that never seemed to cast harsh shadows no matter the hour. He unpacked his school trunk methodically, arranging textbooks on his desk and hanging robes in the wardrobe with precise care.
Beneath the surface of this ordinary return lay his true preparations. Chris unlocked the false bottom of his desk drawer with a wandless charm, revealing a hidden compartment where he stored several pages of his ritual notes, transcribed onto ordinary school parchment with an encryption charm of his own design. To any curious eyes, they would appear to be advanced Transfiguration calculations, tedious enough to discourage further investigation.
"All settled back in?" Susan asked from his doorway, her practical nature evident in how she'd already changed from traveling clothes to a comfortable Hufflepuff jumper and jeans. "Hannah's organizing our study schedule for the term. She's determined that we'll start reviewing for exams by March."
Chris smiled, closing the drawer with a subtle nudge of magic. "Sounds like Hannah. Tell her I'll be right there."
The first days of term slipped into a rhythm both familiar and strange, classes resumed with professors expecting vacation-addled minds to reengage with complex magical theory, students exchanged holiday stories in corridors and common rooms, and the castle settled back into its academic purpose after the festive interlude. Through it all, Chris maintained his careful balance, excelling in classes without showing impossible knowledge, nurturing friendships while keeping necessary secrets.
Their thrice-weekly study sessions resumed in the library, claiming their usual table near the herbology section where Madam Pince rarely patrolled. Wednesday afternoon found Chris, Susan, and Hannah arranging parchment and textbooks when an unexpected figure approached their table, bushy hair barely contained by a practical headband, arms laden with books that seemed excessive even by Ravenclaw standards.
"Excuse me," Hermione Granger said, her voice carrying that particular blend of confidence and uncertainty that characterized her first year at Hogwarts. "I was wondering if I might join your study group? Professor Sprout mentioned you were particularly organized, and..." She hesitated, glancing at the neat arrangement of their materials. "Well, Harry and Ron aren't exactly academic, and I've noticed your potions marks are consistently excellent."
The three Hufflepuffs exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. Susan raised an eyebrow at Chris, clearly deferring to his judgment about expanding their circle.
"Of course," Chris replied warmly, gesturing to the empty chair beside Hannah. "We're reviewing the properties of moonstone in various preparations today. I think you'll find our approach rather systematic."
Hermione's relief was palpable as she settled into the offered seat, arranging her books with meticulous care. "Thank you. I've been trying to understand why our textbook recommends clockwise stirring for Forgetfulness Potion when Arsenius Jigger clearly states in 'Advanced Potion-Making' that lunar ingredients respond better to counterclockwise motions during the waxing moon."
Hannah blinked, slightly overwhelmed by the immediate technical question, but Chris nodded thoughtfully.
"Jigger's correct about lunar theory, but the textbook accounts for the stabilizing effect of the standard pewter cauldron," he explained, drawing a quick diagram on a spare piece of parchment. "The metal creates a dampening field that affects how the ingredients respond to directional energy. If you were using crystal or silver, you'd absolutely want to follow Jigger's recommendation."
Hermione's eyes widened with interest as she leaned forward to study his diagram. "That's not mentioned anywhere in our assigned readings."
"It's in 'Alchemical Interactions: Materials and Methods,'" Susan contributed, sliding her own neat notes toward Hermione. "Chapter four specifically addresses cauldron composition. Chris recommended it as supplementary reading last term."
Over the next hour, the study session evolved into a lively discussion of potion theory that extended well beyond their first-year curriculum. Chris noticed Hermione watching him closely, her analytical mind clearly cataloguing his knowledge and techniques with the thoroughness that would later make her such a formidable researcher.
"You explain things differently than the professors," Hermione observed as they packed up their materials later. "More... practically, somehow. As if you've actually worked with the ingredients yourself."
"My family has a potions laboratory at home," Chris replied truthfully. "I experimented a bit during holidays."
"A bit," Susan repeated with friendly scepticism. "Chris is being modest. He brewed a perfect Calming Draught during our study sessions. Most third-years can't manage that."
By the end of the week, their study group had fallen into a comfortable new dynamic. Hermione brought intellectual rigor and an encyclopaedic knowledge of magical theory, Hannah contributed exceptional organizational skills and practical herbology knowledge, and Susan provided a grounded perspective informed by her aunt's stories of how magic functioned in professional settings. Together, they created an environment where Chris could share his knowledge without seeming unnaturally advanced, each contribution building naturally on their collective discoveries.
Late Friday evening, after Susan and Hannah had succumbed to exhaustion following double Potions and Astronomy, Chris sat at his desk with a detailed map of Hogwarts spread before him. Unlike the Marauder's Map he sought to acquire, this was a static representation he'd created himself, combining information from "Hogwarts: A History" with his own explorations and knowledge from his previous life.
The Weasley twins represented both his greatest challenge and opportunity. They possessed exactly what he needed, the Marauder's Map, but they were also observant pranksters whose magical talent exceeded their academic performance. Direct confrontation would be risky, raising questions about how a first-year Hufflepuff knew about their secret map. Stealth was essential, but so was timing.
Chris marked their typical movements with a red quill, Gryffindor Tower to Great Hall, classes according to third-year schedules, frequent detours to the kitchens, regular visits to abandoned classrooms on the fifth floor where they tested new pranking products. He circled three potential interception points, evaluating each for privacy, escape routes, and likelihood of success.
"The fifth floor classroom on Thursdays," he murmured, tapping the location. "They separate there, Fred to Divination, George to Muggle Studies. Two-minute window with the map potentially in either twin's possession."
He leaned back, considering tactics. A simple summoning charm wouldn't work on an object so powerfully enchanted. A confusion jinx might create an opportunity for sleight of hand. Perhaps a distraction combined with a switching spell? Or an invisible trip jinx followed by an offer of assistance?
Chris smiled, excitement coiling in his chest as he refined the plan. After days of observation and preparation, he was finally taking concrete steps toward altering the timeline. The Marauder's Map would give him extraordinary situational awareness, allowing him to track Dumbledore, locate Harry at optimal moments, and navigate the castle with minimal risk of discovery.
He folded the planning map carefully, securing it in his enchanted desk drawer before preparing for bed. As he settled beneath the comfortable yellow-and-black patchwork quilt, the apartment trunk safely stored around his neck, Chris felt a sense of purpose sharper than any he'd experienced since arriving at Hogwarts. The pieces were in place, the strategy defined, and the first move programmed.