Nine years had passed since Robert's chaotic arrival in the magical world. In this life, his name was Robert Shafik, and from a very young age, he had displayed a magical talent that was nothing short of prodigious—a direct result of two souls merged into one.
His early childhood was shaped by the darkest period of Voldemort's reign. The Shafiks, despite being one of the sacred twenty-eight pure-blood families, held a deep-seated sense of justice, much like the Weasleys. They were proud members of the Order of the Phoenix, staunchly resisting Voldemort and his Death Eaters and protecting Muggle-born wizards at every turn. This made them blood traitors in the eyes of the Dark Lord, a thorn in his side and a target for any Death Eater desperate to prove their loyalty.
The attack came on Robert's second birthday. A group of Death Eaters, having somehow bypassed their wards, descended upon the Shafik home. His parents fought back tenaciously, but they were overwhelmed. As the green light of the Killing Curse stole their lives, the Death Eaters turned their wands on the toddler in the crib.
But at that critical moment, the hidden bonus from his transmigration activated. A blinding flash of white, silent energy erupted from Robert, blasting the circle of dark wizards off their feet and slamming them into the walls.
By the time Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix arrived, they found a scene of devastation. The house was in ruins, unconscious Death Eaters were strewn across the rubble, and in the center of it all, a two-year-old boy lay sleeping peacefully in his crib.
With Robert's parents gone, Dumbledore saw to it that the captured Death Eaters were sent to Azkaban before entrusting the orphaned boy to his only living relative. In a strange twist of fate, Voldemort himself fell just a few days later, defeated by the infant Harry Potter.
For the next nine years, Robert lived a quiet life with his grandmother and a lazy black cat named Tom in Ottery St. Catchpole, a cozy wizarding village in Devon.
"Robert, my dear grandson, don't spend all day with your nose in a book," Mrs. Shafik said, stepping into his room. "The Weasley twins are outside. Why don't you go play?"
"Alright, Grandma, I'm going," Robert replied, setting his book aside.
Their family and the Weasleys were neighbors and kindred spirits, once jointly labeled the "shame of the pure-bloods" for their progressive views. Now, with the Shafik line reduced to just an old woman and a boy, the Weasleys were their closest allies. Mrs. Weasley, in particular, always found an excuse to bring over a pie or invite them for dinner, and Robert had become inseparable from the twins, Fred and George.
"There you are!" Fred and George appeared at his door, flanking him in an instant and hooking their arms through his. "Garden needs de-gnoming. Your expert throwing arm is required."
This was their unique brand of friendship, and they promptly dragged him toward the Weasleys' sprawling, chaotic garden. In the distance, a small, potato-like creature with leathery skin was being flung through the air.
"I'm sure that was fifty feet!" Charlie, the second eldest Weasley brother, boasted.
De-gnoming was one of their favorite games. The gnomes themselves were remarkably durable; Mr. Weasley insisted they weren't to be seriously harmed, just tossed far enough away that they wouldn't come back immediately. The game was simple: one person would grab and swing a gnome, and another would try to bat it as far as possible with a worn-out club.
Robert, Fred, George, Charlie, and even the studious Percy took turns. Young Ginny watched from the porch, while Ron, still small and clumsy, mostly got in the way. Charlie, with his dragon-handler's strength, consistently hit the farthest.
After the last gnome had been sent sailing over the fence, Mrs. Weasley's voice called out from an open window. "Dinner's ready!"
Robert was a frequent guest at The Burrow's dinner table. He often tried to help Mrs. Weasley with chores, but she would always kindly shoo him away.
Over lunch, the conversation was dominated by one topic: Hogwarts. Robert, Fred, and George would be starting their first year in September, and the excitement was palpable.
"You have to fight a troll to get Sorted," Charlie said with a perfectly straight face, winking at Bill, who was home from his work in Egypt.
"A troll? Don't be daft," Bill retorted, playing along. "They made me wrestle a giant spider."
Robert knew they were lying—a classic prank that every Hogwarts graduate seemed to play on incoming first-years—but he kept quiet, enjoying the rare entertainment. Ron, however, swallowed it whole. Later that evening, after thinking he had two more years before facing a troll, he was found with a packed bag, attempting to run away from home. It took a stern lecture from Mrs. Weasley to calm him down.
Back in his own quiet room, Robert picked up Hogwarts: A History. Most of his family's ancient library had been destroyed in the Death Eater attack, leaving only a few common magical texts. He read for a while, the familiar words a comfort, before sleep finally took him.
The next morning, Robert came downstairs to a peculiar sight. An owl was perched on the windowsill, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Clamped onto its back like a furry, four-legged jockey was his cat, Tom, purring victoriously.
Seeing the letter tied to the owl's leg, Robert quickly intervened, detaching his mischievous cat and offering the beleaguered bird a treat. He took the thick, yellowish parchment envelope. The emerald-green ink on the front was unmistakable.
Mr. R. ShafikThe Smallest Bedroom, Top FloorShafik House, Ottery St. CatchpoleDevon
He smiled. He had always wondered how Hogwarts managed to be so precise. Breaking the wax seal, he unfolded the letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Shafik,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Please note that first-year students are not permitted their own broomsticks.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
On the back was the Hogwarts crest: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake encircling the great letter 'H'. His journey was about to begin.