It started with a duel.
Slytherin versus Ravenclaw — a casual after-class match in the courtyard, more bravado than danger. Everyone was watching. Not professors. Students. Whispers. Laughs.
Harry hadn't even wanted to take part.
But someone — Blaise, maybe, or Pansy — nudged him forward.
"You're the heir, right? Show us how serpents strike."
And he did.
The Spark Before the Fire
His opponent: Micah Thorne, a tall Ravenclaw prefect with quick reflexes and a smug grin.
"Disarming only," Micah called. "No funny business."
Harry nodded. He wasn't smiling.
The crowd circled. Wands lifted.
"Three… two… one—"
"Expelliarmus!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Micah's spell shot clean and sharp.
Harry's — didn't.
It roared.
Green and white light erupted from his wand, not in a straight line but like flame caught in wind. The magic hit Micah in the chest — not disarming, but throwing him back across the stone.
He hit the ground hard. His wand snapped.
Gasps.
Then, silence.
Consequence
Theodore moved first. Grabbed Harry's shoulder. Pulled him back from the ring.
"What the hell was that?"
"I— I don't know."
"Don't lie to me, Potter."
Draco pushed through the crowd. "Enough. It was an accident."
Micah groaned. He was alive. Bruised, but conscious.
But someone yelled:
"He didn't even say a full spell!""That's dark magic!""That wasn't a charm!"
And just like that, the whispers started.
The Common Room – That Night
Harry sat by the fire, his wand still warm in his palm. The mark on his hand wasn't glowing — not anymore. But he felt it like a pulse under skin.
Theodore paced.
"You're slipping. Magic isn't meant to act on its own."
"It didn't. I cast it—"
"No. You felt it."
Harry said nothing.
Draco leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed.
"They'll talk to Dumbledore."
"They already have," Theo muttered.
Harry looked up.
"What?"
"Ministry's sending someone. You're on their list now."
Snape's Warning
Later that night, Harry returned to Room 247.
Snape was waiting.
"I told you the mark would change you."
"It wasn't intentional."
"That's the most dangerous kind of magic. The kind that feels."
Snape stepped closer, eyes hard.
"You need to learn how to control it. Before the school — or the Ministry — decides they need to control you."
A pause.
"I'll train you."
Harry blinked.
"What?"
"Privately. Silently. As I once trained myself."
Another pause.
"But understand this, Potter — I am not doing this for you."
"Then why?"
Snape's voice was flat.
"Because I remember what it felt like. When the mirror burned. When the mark appeared.
And because no one trained me."
Final Scene – A Letter
The next morning, Harry found a letter tucked under his pillow.
Heavy parchment. Ministry seal.
Mr. H. J. Potter,You are requested for magical evaluation regarding unsanctioned spellwork and anomalous glyph activity within Hogwarts grounds.
Your presence is expected in the Transfiguration Hall, under watch, by the 14th hour.
And beneath it, handwritten in darker ink:
You will not be alone.—D.S.