The first morning at Hogwarts dawned with a chill mist curling over the Black Lake, and Sagar awoke in the Slytherin dormitory with a sense of anticipation. The room, carved into the bedrock beneath the castle, was cold and shadowy, but Sagar found comfort in the quiet, ancient magic humming in the stone walls. He dressed in his new robes, pinned the Jadhav crest to his chest, and joined the other Slytherins for breakfast in the Great Hall.
The tables were alive with chatter—students comparing schedules, speculating about professors, and gossiping about the new arrivals. Sagar listened, absorbing every detail. Draco Malfoy and his entourage eyed him with a mix of curiosity and caution, while older Slytherins whispered about the mysterious new family from the East.
Sagar greeted them all with a polite nod and a sly smile, never giving away more than he intended. He quickly learned the Slytherin way: strength respected, weakness exploited, secrets traded like currency. He was careful not to appear too eager, nor too aloof—a balancing act he'd perfected over centuries.
First Lessons
Their first class was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. The stern Scottish witch wasted no time, launching into a demonstration that turned her desk into a pig and back again. Sagar watched, fascinated by the precision of her wandwork and the power beneath her calm exterior.
When it was his turn, Sagar performed the basic matchstick-to-needle transformation with a flick of his wrist, but then, with a subtle twist, he changed the needle into a delicate silver rose—earning a rare, approving arch of McGonagall's eyebrow and a round of whispers from his classmates.
Potions with Professor Snape was a different challenge. The dungeon was filled with the scent of herbs and simmering brews. Snape's sharp gaze lingered on Sagar as he explained the subtle art of potion-making. Sagar listened intently, then prepared his Draught of Peace with a deftness that caught even Snape off guard. The potion shimmered with a faint blue glow, perfectly brewed. Snape said nothing, but a glint of respect flickered in his dark eyes.
Making an Impression
By the end of the first week, Sagar's reputation was already growing. He answered questions in Charms with quiet confidence, his spells crisp and inventive. In History of Magic, he occasionally corrected Professor Binns—always politely, always with a reference to some obscure magical event that left even Hermione Granger intrigued.
He made friends with a few Slytherins who appreciated his wit and resourcefulness, and he struck up cautious, clever conversations with students from other Houses. He helped a shy Hufflepuff girl find her lost toad, earning her gratitude and the suspicion of her friends. He traded riddles with a Ravenclaw boy in the library, and even managed to make Ron Weasley laugh during a shared detention for talking in class.
Mischief and Mystery
But Sagar was not content with lessons alone. At night, he explored the castle's hidden passages, guided by a sixth sense for secrets. He discovered a forgotten alcove behind a tapestry where the walls whispered in Parseltongue, and a staircase that led to a room filled with enchanted mirrors. He left harmless pranks in his wake—books that sang lullabies, cauldrons that brewed tea instead of potions, staircases that spun students in circles before letting them go.
His mischief was always clever, never cruel, and he was careful never to get caught. The professors grew wary, and Filch the caretaker muttered about "that new one with the tiger eyes." But Dumbledore, watching from the staff table, only smiled, as if he recognized a kindred spirit.
A New Game
As the weeks passed, Sagar settled into the rhythm of Hogwarts life. He relished the challenge of his classes, the intrigue of House politics, and the endless opportunities for adventure. Yet, beneath it all, he sensed something stirring in the castle—a deeper magic, a secret waiting to be uncovered.
One evening, as he stood on the ramparts watching the stars, Sagar felt a surge of excitement. He was no longer just an observer—he was a player in the greatest magical story of all.
And the game, he knew, was only just beginning.