The dungeon dormitory was calm and silent when Richard stirred.
The lake-filtered light through the underwater windows gave the stone walls a faint green hue, like old glass. There were no bells, no calls to wake, just the stillness of the early hour and the quiet breath of the castle before it came alive. Richard opened his eyes in the dark and let the quiet seep in.
He rose slowly, purposefully, and slipped from bed without disturbing the others. Colin was cocooned in his blankets, snoring faintly. Elliot had kicked his covers halfway off and mumbled something about "dragons and teacups."
Richard dressed in silence, not in robes, but in fitted exercise clothes, and stepped out into the corridor.
In the cold, empty common room, he began his morning routine.
Controlled stretches. Then movement drills, quiet footwork across the flagstones, balance exercises, breathing regulation, core tension. No magic, no distraction. Just the precise calibration of body and mind.
By the time the first hints of torchlight flickered to life beyond the dungeon walls, he was sweating lightly and completely focused. He showered briskly, steam curling up into the vaulted stone, and changed into clean, sleek, dark, and newly tailored robes.
The castle had begun to wake, but only faintly.
Richard slipped into the corridors while most still slept.
He spent the next hour walking. Mapping. Memorizing. The location of key junctions. The flow of staircases. He found a corridor that shifted one brick every hour, opening a new alcove before resetting. He found three dusty and unused classrooms.
By the time he descended into the Great Hall, the sky on the enchanted ceiling was turning a crisp rose-gold. The smell of breakfast, including toast, warm syrup, eggs, and herbs, wafted through the room.
Several Slytherins were already seated at the table. Colin waved him over.
"Morning," Richard said, sliding onto the bench.
"Where have you been?" Malcolm asked, looking faintly suspicious.
"Mapping the castle," Richard said casually.
Arjun leaned forward, interested. "You remember the paths?"
"Mostly."
"Show-off," Elliot muttered faintly.
Richard smiled slightly. "You'll thank me when the main stairs abandon you mid-step."
As they ate, the conversation turned to families.
"My mum's a curse-breaker," said Arjun proudly. "Been to every continent."
"Dad's an Auror," Colin said, a bit more modestly. "Mum's… well, Muggle. Doesn't love the idea of magic in the house, but she's adjusting."
"My dad runs a potion shop," said Malcolm, scooping eggs onto toast.
Richard said little about his own family, only that his guardian had taught him magic early and kept "a tight ship." Before quickly redirecting to: "Any of you have siblings?"
The deflection was smooth, seamless.
A pair of Slytherins wandered over mid-meal. Tall, lean, their robes immaculate. One had a silver serpent ring; he appeared to be just around the same age as Richard was, while the other was obviously a seventh year from his prefect badge proudly pinned to his chest.
"So these are the new 1st years?" the prefect asked, voice silk-wrapped steel.
They nodded.
"Now we've got information on all 1st years this year", he said, looking straight at Richard. "Except for you."
"Well, I can help you with that," Richard said as he stood up. "My name is Richard Magus. It's a pleasure to meet you, Orion Black and you as well, Abraxas Malfoy." Richard said with his hand extended.
"Well, isn't that a surprise." Abraxas Malfoy said with exaggerated wonder. "A Muggle with some manners."
"I couldn't not know the scion from two of the 28 pureblood houses. They have so much history tied to the Wizarding World." Richard replied with a calm smile.
"Well, make sure you don't make a mockery of our House, then, Magus. Then we won't have any issues." Orion said as he returned the handshake and then walked away.
As the older Slytherins disappeared down the table, the tension they left behind seemed to settle like a veil.
Colin exhaled quietly. "Was that… the Black and Malfoy heirs?"
"Yep," Malcolm said with a low whistle, stirring his porridge. "House royalty. I think we just got inspected by the bloody Wizengamot."
"They usually don't even bother speaking to first-years," Arjun added, his brow furrowed in thought. "Let alone remembering names."
"They do if you stand out," Elliot said, looking sidelong at Richard. "What did you do to get on their radar already?"
Richard took a slow sip from his goblet before answering. "I don't know, I just introduced myself."
Malcolm huffed a laugh. "You introduced yourself like a foreign dignitary. Who even talks like that?"
Richard tilted his head slightly. "Those who intend to be remembered for the right reasons."
Colin gave him a lopsided grin. "That was bold, mate. Smooth, though. Malfoy almost looked… impressed. And that's saying something for a bloke with a stick jammed so far up his-"
"Colin," Elliot interrupted with a warning glance, though he couldn't quite suppress a smile.
Arjun leaned closer, his tone more thoughtful than amused. "They said they had information on all the first-years… except you. What did they mean by that?"
"I didn't grow up in the system," Richard replied simply. "No family name that would've been on their radar. No Ministry records. My guardian wasn't one for publicity."
Elliot frowned. "That's not… normal, is it?"
"No," Richard admitted. "But it's useful."
That gave them all a moment's pause.
Then Malcolm smirked. "Still. You got guts, Magus. I thought he was going to hex your teeth out."
"If he did," Richard replied coolly, "he wouldn't have done it with witnesses. And people like Malfoy don't like messes they can't control."
Colin chuckled again and leaned back. "I think I'm going to stick close to you this year. You're going to either get us all killed or into something brilliant."
"Hopefully the latter," Richard said, eyes glinting.
After breakfast, Richard rose again.
This time, his steps led him not through stone solitude, but toward others. The halls were beginning to fill, chatter echoing off the cold stone as students drifted toward their first-day routines. Most first-years stuck to the familiar comfort of their housemates, laughing nervously, eyes wide with wonder or exhaustion.
But Richard moved deliberately, neither hurried nor idle, his gaze attentive, his expression politely curious. He passed knots of students, occasionally nodding to those who'd noticed him at the feast or caught his name during the Sorting. He wasn't intrusive, but he wasn't invisible either.
He spotted two older Gryffindor students near the greenhouses, standing beneath a flowering vine that bloomed and shrank with the rhythm of sunlight.
"Hello, ladies. How are we doing today?" Richard said as he sauntered towards them.
They both giggled before the one on the right bowed and replied, "Good, how are you doing, sir?"
"I'm doing wonderful now. It would be better if I knew your names." Richard said while smiling.
"Well, I'm Clara, and this is Lesa," Clara replied.
"Ah, Clara and Lesa, like music to the ears," Richard said with exaggerated satisfaction.
They chatted briefly about Herbology, the strangeness of Professor Logg's botanical jewellery, and the theory of using mandrake extract for headaches. Richard asked about their electives, what books they were most interested in. He didn't linger long, just long enough to reaffirm familiarity, a thread of connection.
Next, he found a lone Hufflepuff boy sitting under a willow tree beside the courtyard pond, awkwardly feeding the koi bits of toast.
"Martin, right?" Richard said as he approached.
The boy blinked up at him, startled, then nodded. "Y-yes."
"You were near the front of the Sorting line," Richard added.
Martin smiled sheepishly. "Was… sort of hoping to get it over with quickly."
"And you handled it well," Richard said evenly. "How has your first day been?"
The boy laughed nervously. "Good, breakfast was nice."
"Made any friends yet?" Richard asked.
Martin smiled sadly before replying, "No."
"Consider this the beginning of one, then," Richard replied, and sat with him for a few minutes, speaking not of spells, but of home. Martin's stammer faded slightly as he talked about his grandmother, who raised bees, and Richard asked just the right questions to keep him going.
Later, in a quieter corner of the castle near the library's stone archway, Richard crossed paths with the Ravenclaw girl he had noticed staring during the feast. She was perched on a windowsill, legs tucked under her robes, flipping through a book.
"Poppy Pomfrey," Richard said without hesitation.
She looked up sharply. "How did you-?"
"You looked at me yesterday," he said. "Memorable people are worth remembering."
She blinked, surprised, then narrowed her eyes, clearly trying to decide whether to be flattered or suspicious.
"And what house trait does that fall under? Slytherin charm or calculated ambition?"
He smiled faintly. "Can't it be both?"
She snorted, closing her book with a soft thump. "So. What do you want?"
"To understand what drives you. Especially those sharp eyes," he said. "You're studying healing?"
"Planning on being a Mediwitch," she said firmly. "Maybe even Matron and Healer at Hogwarts one day."
"A lofty but noble goal," Richard replied. "Most second-years are still reeling from the staircases. You already have a plan in mind."
She regarded him for a moment, then said, "What's your deal, Magus?"
Richard tilted his head. "You know my name already? That was quick."
For a moment, there was silence. Then she gave a tight nod.
"You're strange, Magus," she said finally. "But you should know, I'm not easy to impress."
"And I don't aim to impress. Just to understand," he replied.
"Be careful with that. People don't like being understood too well," she warned, and then returned to her book.
By midday, Richard had drifted through small conversations like a current through stone channels, never forceful, never still. He left no footprints but made impressions, subtle and deliberate. With each encounter, he collected more than pleasantries. He catalogued gestures, tones, word choices. A glance too long, a pause too short. Each fragment fed the quiet engine of his understanding.
He'd spoken briefly to a pair of Gryffindors struggling with directions.
They argued over the stairs until Peeves, cackling wildly, dumped a goblet of what smelled suspiciously like pumpkin-and-ink soup on one of them from above. Richard had stepped in with a dry, perfectly timed quip, "Consider it your christening," and offered them the correct route. They laughed, reluctantly at first, then gratefully.
He moved on, leaving behind two more names and a moment of shared amusement.
In another corridor, older students watched him from the shadows of tapestries and doorframes. Some measured him with passive curiosity, while others did so with the wary weight of years already spent playing house politics. A fourth-year Hufflepuff narrowed her eyes as he passed. A sixth-year Slytherin gave a slow, thoughtful nod. He made note of both.
It was just noise now. Noise he could use.
When he finally returned to the dungeons, the castle was exhaling—between lunch and the start of lessons, that liminal hour where the corridors sighed into quiet again, and light pooled in unexpected places.
Richard stepped into the cool dimness of the Slytherin common room, the green-glass lamps flickering like reflections underwater. The rooms were mostly empty, with scattered belongings left behind by students who were already preparing for their classes. His footsteps made no sound against the flagstone.
He approached the great underwater windows, wide panels of enchanted glass that looked directly out into the depths of the lake. Beyond them, water swirled in slow, patient currents, green and grey and fathoms deep. Light filtered down from the surface in thin, shifting shafts, and shadows of kelp moved like dancers beyond sight. Tiny fish, silver and glimmering, darted past in sharp, synchronous movements.
He stood there for a while, hands folded behind his back, spine perfectly straight.
Not resting. Reflecting.
His thoughts formed lines, networks, patterns. Names: Clara, Lian, Martin, Poppy, the Gryffindor boys, older students who had noticed but not yet spoken. Their families, their postures, their curiosities. Strengths. Weaknesses. Flaws that hadn't been voiced but could be inferred.
Richard had always believed people were puzzles. Hogwarts was a thousand puzzles stitched together by history and power, and puzzles were meant to be solved.
The ancient stones of the castle were full of magic, yes, but magic was only part of what made them powerful. The true architecture of Hogwarts was living, breathing. It was made of students, of relationships, of alliances and rivalries, of long memories and longer games.
He pressed his palm gently to the glass. The cold of the lake met his skin.
He closed his eyes.
Richard Magus was already shaping his plans. The game had shifted by inches. And already, he had begun to leave his mark.
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