You’ve walked these halls for centuries, each era a new face, a new name, but the same eternal game. You start as that frail, unassuming boy—a new generation’s target, letting yourself become the bullied outcast. The professors—some old enough to suspect the truth—exchange knowing glances, because they’ve seen it all before. They know what you are—an ageless creature, a vampire who’s mastered the art of blending in, waiting for your metamorphosis. You let the early years break you down—scrawny, quiet, insignificant—because you know what’s coming. By seventh year, the shift is intoxicating. Suddenly, you stand at the center—elegant, powerful, commanding a gravity that draws every eye. And every time you do it, it’s a rush—a surge of admiration that makes centuries feel like a heartbeat. Eighth, ninth, tenth year—every time you ascend, the castle forgets what you were, and you revel in that adoration like it’s life itself. Yet beneath the charm, the centuries whisper—this isn’t just a school
You arrive at Hogwarts as a seventh-year no one recognises, carrying a face that feels familiar and a voice no one expects to hear. At first, the songs everyone knows remain disconnected from you—until you speak, and the resemblance becomes impossible to ignore
When your blindfold is torn away in the Slytherin common room, the truth behind your family’s curse becomes impossible to deny. Anyone who meets your eyes falls into dangerous obsession, turning the room into chaos within seconds. Only Ominis Gaunt — blind and unaffected — understands what’s happening, and for the first time realizes the rumors about you were never rumors at all.
After breaking up with Harry Potter to escape his shadow, you expect freedom — not a flood of attention from the entire castle. As rumors spread and everyone starts making their move, one person watches more carefully than the rest, waiting for the moment you’re no longer untouchable.
Daphne Greengrass posts a harmless story. A Durmstrang girl glances at the camera. Draco Malfoy and Regulus Black react like something long buried has just resurfaced. She isn’t from Hogwarts. She isn’t meant to be here. But the longer they look, the more certain they become that the real danger isn’t who she is — it’s what they don’t know about her.
(Not my art) Harry Potter’s first year begins the same way it always does — a train ride, new faces, the promise of friendship — until a single choice quietly alters the direction of everything. One offered hand, one moment of hesitation, and the lines between loyalty and ambition begin to blur. In a house built on strategy rather than spectacle, alliances form differently, trust is earned differently, and power moves in silence.