Anyone think about what holidays the Four Nations celebrate? What they represent, when they occur, and how they were celebrated?
I'd imagine the lunar and solar cycles would be clear contenders for the Water Tribes and Fire Nation respectively. How about the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nomads? Are there holidays the whole world celebrates together? Peace Day, the end of the Hundred Year War, would be my fanon.
Anyone think about what holidays the Four Nations celebrate? What they represent, when they occur, and how they were celebrated?
I'd imagine the lunar and solar cycles would be clear contenders for the Water Tribes and Fire Nation respectively. How about the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nomads? Are there holidays the whole world celebrates together? Peace Day, the end of the Hundred Year War, would be my fanon.
One Hour Later.
"Blimey, are yeh all righ' Harry?!" Hagrid asked as Harry stumbled aside.
"Yeah, I needed the bath anyway," Harry reassured him, shaking out his hair. Waving his pink umbrella, Hagrid used a Hair-drying charm, sending Harry staggering back.
"Sorry!" he muttered as Harry knuckled down. "One minute more."
Flicking the umbrella up, Hagrid cancelled the charm, leaving Harry bone-dry and his hair standing on end.
"Thanks," he said, patting down his head as the Goblin teller, Ranrook (he thought it was) returned looking over a parchment.
"Well, I can safely say you ARE Mr. Harry Potter," Ranrook said. "Thank you for cooperating with us."
"Wha' was tha' all abou'?!" Hagrid exclaimed.
"We had to make sure he was who you claimed he was," Ranrook shrugged. "After all, we cannot simply grant access to Mr. Potter's vault to anyone who claims he's Mr. Potter."
"I had the key!" Hagrid replied. "Yeh confirmed it was real! What more did ye need?!"
"Well we needed blood, birth circumstances, magical signature, exposure of magical disguises or illusions," Ranrook listed off nonchalantly. "We have had a LOT of imposters try their luck with us."
"Really?" Harry asked, disbelieving.
"Oh yes Mr. Potter," Ranrook said with what seemed like a smile. Turning to a bookshelf, he pulled out a rather large folder and plopped it onto the desk. "Care to take a look?"
"Uh, sure," Harry shrugged. Opening the folder, he saw hundreds, perhaps thousands of files, faces and names plastered like Wanted posters. Looking through them, he found himself laughing at some of the antics these imposters tried to get in. "These ACTUALLY tried to pretend to be me?"
"Yes Mr. Potter," Ranrook affirmed. "We've even developed a whole protocol to deal with them, and we were ready to do the same with you."
"What would have happened if I was an imposter?" Harry asked.
"Oh, you don't want to know," Ranrook answered, smiling like a shark near prey. "Well, let's head for your vault."
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!" Ludo Bagman announced via the Sonorous Charm. "It's time for the Third and Final Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament!"
"Boy this sounds familiar," Seamus muttered to Dean.
"Like a broken record," Dean agreed.
"The First Task was a dash for a prize, the Second was a race, and for the Third we have...a Wizard's Duel!" Bagman continued. "Our Champions will be paired up for three bouts, two preliminaries and a final match. Each bout will have four rounds lasting three minutes each, with points assigned to each duelist depending on their skill, conduct, and ground gained. The winner will be the one who earns the most points or whoever is left standing. If a duelist is thrown off the platform, they will automatically lose the duel."
"Sounds like Muggle boxing," Dean noted.
"The duels will be refereed by our esteemed Dueling Champion, Professor Flitwick," Bagman continued as a small figure walked into the center of the platform. "Illegal moves will be penalized with loss of points or disqualification depending on the severity and frequency. Illegal moves include Transfiguring one's opponent, making physical contact, attacks from behind, permanently damage, and Unforgivable Curses."
"Like we're ever going to see that happen," Seamus said with a half-chuckle.
"Don't push it," Dean replied darkly. "With our luck we just might."
"Beans! Get your Bertie Bott's Beans!" a man called out from the aisle.
"Wow, they're going all out," Dean said.
"Might as well make some money outta it, right?" Seamus shrugged. "Beans!" he called out, fishing out coins.
"And now everyone!" Bagman shouted. "Time for us to decide our bouts! Judges!"
At this, a giant four-spoke wheel appeared in the sky above the Pitch, the Champions' faces glowing brightly within the quadrants. The wheel then spun rapidly for a moment before stopping on a bright blue quadrant with a beautiful witch.
"There's our first Champion!" Bagman announced as the image pealed off the wheel, the spokes rearranging themselves accommodate the removal. The wheel then spun again, stopping on a golden third featuring a bespectacled boy.
"There we have it everyone!" Bagman exclaimed. "The first bout with be Fleur "Fatale" Delacour vs Harry "Firebolt" Potter!"
"Ugh!" the crowd groaned, many face-palming at the names.
"Which means our second bout will be..." Bagman paused for dramatic effect. "Viktor "Calamity" Krum vs Cedric "Digger" Diggory!"
"Someone PLEASE fire zat man!" Fleur groaned from behind the doors.
"You'd think he'd have learned his lesson from the Second Task," Harry muttered.
"Maybe it vos not enough?" Krum offered.
"You think he needs a friendly reminder?" Harry asked.
"Or perhaps somezing stronger?" Krum suggested.
"Well, when this is over," Cedric cut in. "We'll make sure to have a...chat with him."
Basically Neville joins the Golden Trio early on, forming a tight friendship through all seven books.
How does Snape react to this Quartet? Does he see them as the Marauders reborn?
How does Neville feel about the Philosopher's Stone hidden inside the castle? Would he see it as an opportunity to help his parents? Or be baffled at Dumbledore's plan?
When Harry, Ron, and Hermione go to save the Stone, would Neville still try to stop them? Or would he go with them to help?
Would the Chamber of Secrets still open? Or would Augusta Longbottom stay Lucius' hand?
These are just some of the ripple effects. Feel free to comment or write as you see fit.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!" Ludo Bagman announces via Sonorous charm. "It is time for the Second Task! Where before, we had a daring dash for a Golden Egg in the face of an unknown danger, today we have...a race! Our Champions will race across the Lake, but this is no ordinary race!"
All at once, the Judges raised their wands and billowed vibrant-colored smoke. The smoke floated over the Lake, forming pathways that rose, fell, and turned sharply. With another gesture, the Judges conjured golden rings that hovered within the smoky paths, dancing slightly as though beckoning the Champions onward.
"For this Task," Bagman continued. "The Champions will fly within their designated paths, collecting the Golden Rings as they race towards the far end of the Lake. They will be scored on both how many Rings they collect and how quickly they finish the race. Points will be deducted for veering into each other's paths, colliding with your fellow Champions, or using magic to collect the Rings or sabotage each other."
"That's it?" Fleur asked incredulous. "That's all we have to do?"
"Oh no!" Bagman smirked. "There's a rather....giant obstacle to keep in mind."
At that, a massive tentacle rose from the water, swaying side-to-side, like a parent wagging their finger disapprovingly. The tentacle then slowly submerged back into the water, the surface turning smooth and glossy once more.
"Okay," Harry said.
"Any questions before we begin?" Bagman asked.
"Da," Viktor cut in. "Vhy are zere four people on ze other side? Vhy are zey not vith ze audience?"
"We thought it would motivate you to get there faster," Bagman responded.
"Like we needed MORE motivation?" Cedric asked disbelievingly.
"I am going to kill him," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes in anger.
"Get in line," Viktor cut in. "I vant a piece of him."
"Save a few for moi!" Fleur added.
"Now now, we shouldn't kill him!" Cedric said alarmed. Then he smirked "Just hurt him really, really badly."
Yowling, she spun around but saw nothing there. Then, she felt it again from the other direction.
Angrily, she spun but only saw her students looking concerned and confused. Then, she felt it a third time.
This time, she peeked under the desk and caught a glimpse of something dark and furry slipping out of sight. Edging around the desk, she kept checking, trying to find whatever was pulling her tail.
Meanwhile, the students gathered around the desk, forming a semi-circle that should keep this instigator from escaping. But as she edged toward the back of the desk, something grabbed her ear and almost pulled her off the desk.
The students surged forward to catch the kitty, but McGonagall managed to hang on by her claws. Pulling herself up, she searched intensively, her whiskers twitching and her ears swiveling to try and find this hooligan.
"Ron, your hand is really hairy!" a voice, Hermione it sounded, distracting her.
"Mine is hairy?! Yours is practically furry!" Ron snapped back. Looking toward them, she saw a black, furry hand clasped in each of them. Looking down, she saw a figure with very long arms and short legs staring back with a wide grin.
"There you are!" she said, or rather hissed and lunged forward, transforming mid-air into her human form. The students parted and the figure scampered behind them.
"Do not any of ye move!" she ordered. "Any of ye move and it'll be 100 points lost from ye House!"
The students stood frozen as McGonagall prowled around like an angry tiger, wand drawn and eyes sharp. To her chagrin, this figure kept evading her, always one step ahead of her. Then, she saw a bulge in one of her student's robes, where her back would be.
Vanishing the robes, she saw the figure hanging onto Parvati's back, staring innocently as everyone gasped in shock.
"Petrificus totalus!" she intoned but the figure slipped behind her with incredible agility. The figure then clambered up the walls with the ease of an acrobat, their long arms acting like swings.
"All right," she breathed. "Enough monkey business."
"Actually, that's not a monkey," someone said. "That's a gibbon."
When Lily sacrificed herself, the Ancient Magic went far deeper than anyone could have imagined. Instead of just a barrier, it seeped deep into Harry's body and soul, connecting him to a magic far older and far more primal than anyone could remember.
Under the Dursleys, Harry's connection to this magic deepens to survive the grueling chores and negligence. When Dudley tries beating Harry up, the magic lashes out and sends Dudley flying. Vernon, terrified and infuriated, leaves Harry in a random forest in Wales, where Harry's magic grows stronger, more in-tuned with the environment. He learns to listen to the trees, the wind, and the earth. He learns to conjure fire for warmth and light. He learns to summon water for bathing and drinking. He learns the ways of the animals, plants, and seasons.
When he is discovered, Harry is an expert at wilderness survival and prodigious in Ancient Magic. But his social graces...leave much to be desired.
And above all, remember the most vital rule of all.
Under NO circumstances do we mention the name of....the Scottish Play.
<At that, everyone looked around, eyes wide in fear and apprehension>
The plants have thorns that draw blood and Neville is soaked in pollen, nectar, and leaves, and Neville staggers out gingerly and slowly out of the Greenhouse. His wounds are magically closed and he's deemed fine save for the pain and embarrassment.
The next day, Neville finds himself sluggish in the early morning haze...but once the sunlight hits him he's energized almost immediately. Come noon, he finds himself sun-bathing for hours.
About a month later, he finds his skin has taken on a greenish hue, subtle, almost imperceptible but undeniably there. Concerned, he asks his grandmother who gives him a skin tonic and tells him to apply it diligently.
Within weeks, the green hue has grown stronger and his skin is harder and rougher, like tree bark.
He also finds his clothes becoming more difficult to wear, especially socks and shoes so he starts going barefoot. He notices that long periods of sitting or standing make him more sluggish and heavy and it takes longer for him to get moving again, almost like he's rooting himself.
Lastly, his appetite drastically diminishes, replaced almost entirely by water with some supplemental food for nutrients. His main diet is sugar water, with insects thrown in for protein.
Shocked, Harry stares at the ermine who simply repeats the question "are you alright kid?".
"I...I'm used to this," Harry groaned, clutching his stomach.
"That's...NOT a good thing kid," the ermine pressed. "We should talk to the authorities."
"That won't work," Harry insisted, coughing and wheezing. "I've tried that."
"Where are your parents kid?" the ermine asked. "Are they coming to pick you up?"
"They're...they're dead," Harry answered, tears filling his eyes as the ermine cringed.
"Sorry kid, I didn't mean..." he trailed off. Then, he thrust his balled-up paw into his flat palm, like he just had a brilliant idea. "Say kid! I know what we could do! I'll tell my best pal and he can take you in!"
"Your best pal?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, he's absolutely brilliant and he works as a home teacher for a middle school," the ermine said. "Not to mention he's kind, great with kids, and just absolutely fabulous! I got caught in a trap and he saved my life! Not to mention the students all love him at the school! He'd be all too happy to have you there!"
"And...where is he now?" Harry asked, feeling a little hopeful.
"He's on vacation in Wales, though he works in Japan," the ermine replied. Seeing Harry's eyes drop, he insisted "Don't worry about a thing! He's got friends who can take care of everything!"
"That...would be nice," Harry admitted. Just then the ermine dropped off his shoulders and yelled back "That settles it then! I'll go get him and we'll have you outta here! Just listen for a guy with red hair, glasses, and goes by Springfield, Negi Springfield!"
As a Hogwarts student, Gilderoy discovered he had a knack for Memory Charms, and not just Obliviating them. Diving deep into the literature and lore, he discovered the Pensieve and began experimenting with memories.
Upon graduation from Hogwarts, Lockhart starts traveling, searching for skilled and powerful wizards and witches. He tracks them down, interviews them, retrieves their memories, and integrates them into his own, filling in the gaps in his knowledge and gaining years or decades of experience in a matter of weeks.
By the time he's hired for Defense Against the Dark Arts, he has the memories of dozens of accomplished witches and wizards inside his handsome, well-groomed dome.
Though there are some...complications in this approach.
The headlines are dynamite! The Dark Lord struck Diagon Alley in broad daylight, aiming for Harry Potter. Wand raised, teeth bared in fury...only for Sirius Black to step in and fight his master. Fudge, seeing the uproar, is forced to resign and is replaced by the more proactive Amelia Bones. The Ministry shifts to a war footing overnight as Death Eaters are rounded up and imprisoned.
But a strange pattern keeps emerging: none of them recall ever stepping foot in Diagon Alley that day. A Legilimens scan reveals traces of memory modification, but while the time frame is narrowed to the day in question, no one knows who or why.
Decades later, as she sits back in her bed, Nymphadora (Don't Call Me That!) Tonks regales the story of her greatest bit of mischief...ever.
"Remember the dress robes mum sent me?" he asked. When everyone nodded, he continued "Well, Harry followed me and asked if he could borrow them. I handed them over without a second thought. I later realized what I had done and tried to get them back but he was gone."
"Gone?" Hermione asked. "What do you mean gone?"
"He wasn't in the Castle," Ron explained. "Nor was he on the Grounds or in the Village. I ran into Hagrid and he told me he saw Harry and a large black dog enter the forest. I tried to go in but he grabbed my collar and said 'oh no ye don'!"
Everyone stared astonished at how well he imitated the Ground keeper's accent.
"He said he'd keep an eye out for them," he said after sipping some Butterbeer. "I started hanging out with him after class for afternoon tea, where we just talked about stuff."
"Like what?" his brothers asked.
"Classes, creatures, the Tournament," Ron shrugged. Taking another sip, he sighed "About a week later, he saw smoke coming from the forest and decided to investigate."
"And he brought you along?" Padma asked incredulous.
"I didn't give him much choice," Ron admitted. "I used a Sticking Charm to bind myself to him so it was either call it off or bring me along. It took us all afternoon to get there, climbing over roots, boulders, and ravines. But we got to a clearing with a cauldron bubbling over a big fire and three figures."
"Three? Who were they?" Hermione asked.
"One of them was Harry, obviously," Ron replied. "There was also a man near the cauldron, and a woman, or so I thought. As we entered we found she was a centaur with long, reddish hair, forest-green eyes, and a rather large...belly in the horse-half. She and Harry were working on something near the bushes, which I later found out was a deer carcass."
"He was hunting?" Hermione asked. "Why?"
"Don't know," he shrugged. "Exercise perhaps? But before I could do anything, something crashed into the clearing. A massive boar, easily the size of my dad's car and it made a beeline for the carcass. The man near the cauldron cast a spell that tripped it up but it got back up again and aimed for him next."
Taking a sip, he added "Just as the fight got underway, we heard this chittering or clicking sound. I turned and.." he paused, growing pale at the memory. Steeling himself, he forced out "...I saw a giant spider enter the fray. Harry turned to face the spider as the man engaged the boar. Then another spider came, then another, forcing Harry to split his attention."
"And then I made things worse," he admitted.
"How?" Padma asked.
"I said things can't get much worse," he sighed. "I REALLY should have known better because it turns out that centaur....she was pregnant, and she went into labor."
"Ah-ha," Padma breathed.
"Hagrid had to play mid-wife so I took on the boar while Harry and the man handled the spiders. I was almost trampled to death but I killed it, dropped a rock on it's head. Just as the spiders were taken care of, Hagrid delivered two...foals I guess. Talk about a long night."
"Indeed," Fred and George said. "But what about the robes?"
"Oh, I gave those to Liliana," Ron shrugged. "The centaur. I figured her babies needed them more than me."
"But mum-" they started but Ron cut them off and shrugged "What more can she do to me? Nearly dying in a death struggle with a giant boar really puts you into perspective."
"So how did you get your robes?" Padma asked.
"I made them, from the boar's hide," he explained. "Harry insisted that I do it. He showed me how to...process it."
A.N. This is something in my mind for a crossover where Harry is trained as a hunter and a warrior in another world.
When Fenrir does not show up for work the next day, his pack track him down to a clearing in the forest, where they find his body and his would-be victim curled up against a tree. After looking back and forth between the werewolf and the boy, one question looms in their minds.
"Who's in charge now?" one asks aloud. "Did Fenrir have a successor?"
"I don't think he ever mentioned one," another admits. "Should it go to the oldest?"
"Wouldn't that be Remus?" a third cut in.
"Ugh!" the group groaned. "No way! He hates being a werewolf!"
"But he's on good terms with Dumbledore," a fourth added.
"And what has that old coot ever done for us?!" the first asked furiously.
"So if not Remus, then who?" the second asked. "Who's the oldest among us?"
"I...I can't remember," the fourth admitted. "Almost none of us are over 19 years old. Fenrir DID have a...taste for children."
"Maybe we could merge or transfer to another group," the fourth suggested. "But who?"
"The Dewclaws are way too weird," the first said, shaking their head. "And those Bushtails are just..."
"Ugh, not a chance!" the third yelled.
"The Whiteeyes?" the second suggested.
"Those vegan fools?!" the fourth objected. "All that cheese makes them gassy! I can't stand the smell!"
Meanwhile the boy simply stood, shocked and confused as those he presumed to be avengers began bickering over politics.
"Hey, I have it!" the first one announced. Pointing a finger at the boy, he declared "Let's make HIM the next in charge of the Greybacks!"
"Him?! He's just a kid!" the group yelled.
"Yes, but a strong one," he argued. "He killed Fenrir Greyback on a full moon at such a young age. And he's a human boy, so he'll be more appealing to the wider population, helping us rehabilitate our image. The fact that we showed mercy instead of killing or turning him will only further that goal."
"And the fact that he's so young means he'll be easier to manipulate," the second said cynically.
"All the better for us," the first pressed.
"Hard to imagine he pulled this off," the fourth admitted. "He looks so skinny and small."
"But he did, and the proof is right there," the first pressed, pointing at Fenrir's body.
And thus Harry Potter was adopted by the Greyback Pack.
A.N. This was inspired by the Beastars series, where Louis a red-tailed deer is made head of a Lion Yakuza after killing their boss.
It seemed a day like any other, Mr. Evans thought looking back. I was out on a walk, trying to clear my end when a terrible BANG! rocked me to my core. Terrified, I looked for the source of the explosion when I saw a tower of smoke rising through the air.
Seeing a phone booth, I ran and called emergency services. After hanging up, I walked carefully toward the area and I saw an old brick house on Spinner's End engulfed in flame, a crowd hurriedly running toward the filthy river with buckets to try and douse the flames. Sighing, I joined them, grabbing a rusty old bucket and racing toward the burning house. Just as I got close enough to feel the heat, I heard a child crying inside.
Without thinking, I threw the bucket through a window and dashed inside, my eyes stinging from the smoke as I frantically searched for the child. Seeing a thin boy crouched under a bed, I beckoned him forward and raced back out of the house just as the ceiling came crashing in.
As soon as the emergency service workers arrived, I handed the boy to a paramedic as the firemen doused the flames. I gave my statement and waited as the cops investigated the scene. They informed me that they discovered the bodies of two adults, a man and a woman, likely the boy's parents. A quick check revealed no known maternal relatives, strangely enough, and of the father's relatives, none are in a position to take him in.
Seeing the situation, I offered to adopt the boy. There's still some paperwork to finish but hopefully we'll have everything taken care of, and soon we'll have a new member of the family.
What's his name father? Lily asked.
Severus, Severus Snape.
Finding the man's home, he banged on the door until a wizened old man opened a flap.
"Beat it kid, or I'll call the brute squad!" he barked.
"I know th' brute squad," Hagrid cut in.
"You ARE the brute squad!" he replied.
"We need a miracle," Harry urged.
"Kid, I'm retired," he sighed. "I've been retired for years. I might kill whoever you want me to miracle."
"He's already dead," Harry insisted.
"He is? I'll take a look. Bring him in." he shrugged. Laying Cedric's body on the table, the man poked and prodded him and said "I've seen worse. You got money?"
"One thousand galleons," Harry admitted.
"Phew! I've never worked for that much!" he said, then he turned to Harry and asked "Why? What's so important?"
"He died because of me!" Harry all but yelled. "If I wasn't such an idiot, he'd still be alive!"
"Oh, survivor's guilt eh," the man shrugged. "Well, I'll ask him."
"He's dead, he can't talk," Harry replied, confused.
"Oh look who knows so much!" the man quipped, pulling out some bellows. "Well you're MOSTLY right, because your friend is MOSTLY dead. About 97.35% dead to be precise. Thankfully there's a big difference between MOSTLY dead and ALL dead. Please open his mouth."
Inserting the bellows, he pumped a few times explaining his point. "Mostly dead is slightly alive. Now, ALL dead, well with ALL dead there's only one thing you can do."
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"Go through his robes and look for loose change," he said. Pulling the bellows out he yelled "Hey! Hello in there! Hey, you heard this kid?! Is he the reason you're MOSTLY dead?!"
Pressing Cedric's chest, a small but distinct "Noooooo," hissed out.
"Ah you see kid," the man said. "He doesn't blame you. You're in the clear. Your conscience is clear. Your hands are clean."
"So ye' won't do it?" Hagrid asked. "Bring 'im back?"
"I never said that," the man snapped.
"Or maybe ye' can' bring 'im back," Hagrid pressed, riling him up. "Maybe that's why ye' retired, yer' incompetent!"
"How dare you!" he snapped, rushing over. "I am Miracle Max!" Turning to Harry he said "Give me the money! I'm on the job!"
About an hour later, Max gave them a chocolate-coated pill and sent them on their way, stuffing a few papers inside Hagrid's coat. In Hagrid's hut, they propped Cedric in a chair, Hagrid holding his head still as Harry forced it down his throat.
"How long 'til it works?" Hagrid asked.
"I haven't a clue," Harry admitted. Just then, Cedric's eyes snapped open. "Where am I? What's going on? Why won't my arms move?"
"That was quick," Hagrid noted. "Yer in my hut. We brough' ye back. And ye have been mostly dead all day."
"Mostly dead?" Cedric repeated.
"97.35% according to Miracle Max," Harry said.
"And now?" Cedric asked.
"Hold on," Hagrid said, rummaging through his pockets. Pulling out a pamphlet that seemed comically small in his hand, he read the title "Post Mostly-Dead. Your Guide to a (Hopefully) Long and Healthy Second Life"
Unfolding the brochure he said "According to this, you're between 78.67% and 85.63% dead. It's going to take ye' between three weeks and half a year to get to...less than 50% dead. After that, it depends on how well ye' heal and how stringently ye' adhere to yer stuff."
"That's a lot of info," Cedric noted, wiggling a thumb. "How long until I can walk?"
"According to tis'" Hagrid said, eyebrows raising. "About two weeks, maybe less if ye were physically fit before ye were mostly dead."
"Don't worry," Harry cut in. "We'll make sure you get the help you need."
"Great because I desperately need help right now," Cedric said, eyes widening as his face blushed.
"What do ye need?" Hagrid asked. Seeing him hesitate, Harry reassured him "Whatever it is we'll be there."
"Okay," Cedric sighed. "I really need to use the bathroom."
The locals try to warn them of the history, the legends, or the fact that it's private land, but none of that works on the Dursleys. They set off in the morning, and never return.
Dumbledore, hearing the news, rushes to check on Privet Drive and finds an empty house with a cupboard under the stairs with a threadbare blanket and a worn mattress, and no evidence the boy he left was ever there.
Distraught, he reaches out to MACUSA who learn of their trip to Dudleytown, much to everyone's shock and horror.
Years later, a black-haired boy with green eyes exits the forest and nobody knows what to make of him.
"First," Dumbledore announced. "Let us welcome the fine gentlemen and lovely ladies from the Beaubatons Academy of Magic, and their Headmistress Madame Maxime."
The doors open to reveal a trope of blue-clad teenagers, their robes shiny like satin sheets as they marched toward the High Table. Stopping periodically, they let out a small sigh and release slips of paper which transformed into butterflies. Striding behind them was a large woman, clad in fine fur and carrying a professional bearing. Stopping at the Table, she received a kiss from Albus Dumbledore who returned to the podium as her students joined the Ravenclaw table.
"And now this is when we would welcome the proud sons and daughters of Durmstrang," he intoned. "But alas that school has been closed so in their place, we welcome a new school. A school whose history is as deep and prestigious as any other. A school whose ways are mysterious even for other wizards."
At that, the doors opened and a bearded man clad in black robes with white trim and embroidered with silver stars and other symbols entered the room, followed by two rows of students in plain black robes. What surprised everyone was that instead of walking, they levitated up the aisles, sitting cross-legged with their hands clasped together as they breathed slowly and deliberately. Where the Beaubatons students were energetic, playful, and perhaps a little flirtatious, these were solemn, calm, like hovering in mid-air was as natural as breathing.
"Let us welcome," Dumbledore cut in as the man reached him. "The monks and nuns of the Monastery for the Cultivation of Sages, and their abbot, Master Lu Hanwei."
The abbot gently, easily extended his legs, looked Dumbledore in the eyes, and gave a simple bow, his students joining in as Albus reciprocated. The abbot followed Dumbledore to the Head Table as his students joined the Hufflepuffs.
"Blimey!" Ron said, eyes wide at the sight. "I never thought that was possible!"
"Neither did I," Hermione agreed. "I've read a lot about other schools, but I couldn't find many references to...this one."
"Really?" Ron asked, looking uneasy at the idea. Then, turning to the Head Table he gave a small gasp as he stared directly at the abbot, his eyes wide in shock. "What the Bloody Hell...?!" he squeaked, raising a quivering finger.
"Is that...an eye?" Hermione asked, her throat dry as she caught a glimpse of the abbot's forehead.
"Yep, it's the Third Eye," a third voice cut in. Turning quickly, they saw a boy with black hair and green eyes grinning right between them. "Took a LONG time to get that but totally worth it!"
"How...how did you get there?" Ron asked.
"I sat down," he shrugged. "That table seemed crowded so I slipped back here where there was more room. But if you two want some privacy I can leave."
"Uh no, no that's alright," Ron insisted. "So what's that Third Eye business?"
Just then, the door flew open and a man ambled inside. He had grizzled hair and his face was mangled with scars, his nose a caricature of what a real one should look like. And his eye, his bright, blue eye whizzed and whirred erratically in its socket.
"Hold!" the abbot demanded. Flipping over the Table, he landed in front of the man and asked "Why are you under Polyjuice Potion?"
A.N. I just made up the name of this school, based if off Taoist robes and monastic practices, and I made a Mandarin version of my real name for the abbot. I want this to be more about the story so feel free to play around with a cultivation magic system in the Potter-verse.
During a routine patrol, a policeman finds a dead body dressed in robes and calls in for retrieval.
Upon arrival, the body is revealed to be a young man, average height and weight, with a lean build and no calluses. The robes contain a small bag with gold and silver coins that seems surprisingly light given the contents and never seems to run out. Nearby, a strange stick was found that seems to pulse or radiate heat.
Running the body through the records, they find no matches on fingerprints, face, or dental records. Almost like this man did not exist...yet he does.
The forensic investigator decides to do a more in-depth analysis.