Harry Potter: Archmage of Another World

The day before school resumed, Augustus bid farewell to his parents and returned to Hogwarts. The Great Hall still retained its festive Christmas decorations—colorful garlands and a massive tree adorned with glittering ornaments stood untouched.

The Slytherin table was nearly deserted, with most students yet to return. Augustus sat alone, his gaze wandering across the sparsely populated hall. Only a handful of teachers and students were scattered about, their chatter barely audible in the vast space.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron sat huddled together, whispering in hushed tones. Their heads were close, their expressions tense, as if discussing a closely guarded secret. In the near-empty hall, it was unlikely anyone was interested in overhearing them, yet they still glanced around cautiously.

When their conversation seemed to reach a critical point, Harry's gaze swept across the room. His eyes landed on Augustus, who sat alone at the Slytherin table. A flicker of determination crossed his face. After exchanging a few words with Ron, the two of them approached him.

"Mr. Augustus, happy holidays," Harry greeted him, his tone slightly hesitant.

"Happy holidays," Augustus replied with a faint smile. "And thank you for the gifts. Though, I must admit, those chess pieces and candies could be a little quieter. Otherwise, they were perfect."

Relief washed over Ron's face at Augustus' warm response. He often felt a peculiar unease around Augustus—perhaps it was his advanced mastery of spells, his calm and composed aura, or the intimidating reputation of his powerful family. Yet, as soon as Augustus spoke, his approachable demeanor dissolved any discomfort, leaving behind an air of refreshing sincerity. Ron couldn't help but admire this subtle charm.

"As long as you liked them," Harry said, his tone light but with a hint of satisfaction. Almost unconsciously, he touched the scar on his forehead, a gesture of habit. Then, his expression turned serious. "Actually, Mr. Augustus, we came to talk to you about the Philosopher's Stone."

Augustus nodded slightly, signaling Harry to continue. Truthfully, Augustus had little interest in the Philosopher's Stone—its purported abilities to turn metal into gold or grant immortality held no appeal for him.

The former was unnecessary, and he viewed the latter as an illusion. If eternal life could be achieved through such external means, wouldn't the arduous paths of magical cultivation seem laughable? To Augustus, true mastery over life and death lay far beyond the promises of alchemy. Even divinity, he mused, was merely the beginning of a far grander journey.

Gathering his thoughts, Harry explained, "I mentioned Snape to you before. He definitely went to the third-floor room guarded by the three-headed dog. His leg was injured—probably by whatever is protecting the room. And I overheard him threatening Quirrell. I'm not sure how Quirrell is involved, but it's suspicious. If the thing the dog is guarding is the Philosopher's Stone, then Snape must want it more than anyone else."

"And don't forget the curse during the Quidditch match!" Ron added, frowning. "If it weren't for you, Harry might've been killed. Someone like Snape, even if he's a professor, can't be trusted."

Augustus sighed lightly, his expression calm. "Based on these suspicions alone, you believe Snape wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone? Harry, you're being rash. We don't know why he went to that room or why he threatened Quirrell. As for the Quidditch match, Snape was actually protecting you. The real culprit behind the curse was Professor Quirrell. I regret not clarifying this earlier—it seems your misunderstanding of Snape has deepened."

"Snape... was protecting me?" Harry stared at Augustus in shock. The thought that the professor he disliked—and often hated—had actually saved him was difficult to process. And Quirrell, whom they had always regarded as timid and harmless, was the real threat?

Ron's jaw dropped, while Harry's mind raced to reconcile this revelation. Had they been wrong all along? Feeling disoriented and slightly embarrassed, Harry muttered his thanks and said goodbye to Augustus. He needed time to process the unexpected truth.

As Augustus watched them leave, a faint smile tugged at his lips. How amusing, he thought. They were so preoccupied with their amateur sleuthing. Even if Snape or Quirrell were truly after the Philosopher's Stone, what could they do? Run to Dumbledore? And if Dumbledore wasn't available, then what?

Pinning one's hopes on others was foolish. In the face of true power, schemes and conspiracies were mere trifles. If only they channeled their energy into mastering magic itself, they could achieve far more remarkable things in the future.

Dumbledore's greatness, Augustus reflected, didn't lie in his alchemical achievements or his discovery of dragon's blood's many uses. It stemmed from his legendary defeat of Gellert Grindelwald. Legends were forged by overcoming other legends. Ultimately, it was power—and power alone—that determined the outcome of everything.

His thoughts drifted to Loki, the prodigy who could wield Unforgivable Curses at the age of ten. Though gifted, Loki's strength came from his relentless dedication to magic. People admired the brilliance of geniuses but often overlooked the effort behind their achievements. Augustus recognized the unyielding hunger for magic in Loki's eyes. Compared to him, Harry and his friends seemed woefully naive.

In the world of wizards, Augustus mused, only magic stood as the eternal path worth pursuing. Everything else was fleeting, a mere illusion.

Later that evening, Augustus returned to the dimly lit Slytherin common room and headed to his dormitory. As he entered, a hawk perched on the window, clutching something in its beak.

Suddenly, a small light emerged in the center of the room, expanding rapidly. Strands of silvery-white light floated in the air, each one composed of countless intricate runes. Augustus' silver eyes flickered as they scanned the symbols. The strands converged into a single point, forming a translucent tree sapling radiating an ancient, mysterious aura.

The glowing tree solidified, its branches and leaves shimmering with divine luminescence. As Augustus observed the ethereal creation, a perfect smile graced his lips.

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