Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Daily activities
As I woke up, I found myself in a strange, gloomy, and dimly lit room similar to a dungeon. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars filled with slimy, revolting things, such as bits of animals and plants, floating in potions of varying colors and statuary items.
I looked around and found no one in sight, so I quietly stood up to understand where I was and how I got here. Observing the strange room that looked like some grazy scientist's lab. I was getting more scared by the minute. I had no memory of getting here or why I was even in this place. As I looked closely, I could find imaginary things like griffin claws, pixie wings, phoenix tears, and even parts of a dragon in the jars coloring the many shelves on the walls.
It seemed likely that it was the home of some grazy scientists, since obviously those things didn't exist, at least on earth, according to my knowledge.
If you're wondering how I knew what those things were supposed to be, there were inscriptions written on the jars. Everywhere signs could be seen telling thunderheads to keep as far away as possible if they don't want to turn into a toad. How was that supposed to work out? I had no idea, since turning into a toad was not possible by human standards.
As I was trying to reach for a jar containing dragon blood, I was interrupted by a couch coming from a dark corner of the room. A young man with a cold gaze could be seen looking at me with hawk-like eyes that seemed to be looking into my soul and evaluating my worth. Scared, I made a wise choice unknowingly to myself, not looking into his eyes.
He slowly walked to me and hit me with a book that had somehow appeared in his hand. I immediately angrily yelled at him, "Why would you do that?" but no answer came.
I know it was stupid, but I couldn't show weakness in this unknown dungeon, since usually the weak ones are always killed first, something that I had failed in the life I had lived before.
He immediately hit me again, much to my confusion, and when I tried to yell at him again, I couldn't even finish half of the sentence before he hit me again with that cursed book. This time I could see the title of the book: "The Quide to Teaching Idiots" by Severus Snape.
Understanding that there was no help in speaking as this brute seemed to not be comprehending a single word I was telling him, I sat down. He looked me up, left, and right, and finally looked into my green jade-like eyes. He squeezed his hands so hard that it was visible that they were bleeding, sighed, and sat in a chair that had suddenly replaced the potion I was trying to touch previously.
"From today onwards, I will be taking care of you," he said with some displeasure, wondering how Lily's son could be so stupid; he is even older than his brother; maybe I had made the wrong choice picking him. Still, there is no way turning back now; dumbeldore wouldn't agree to a single request of mine on this topic anymore since Harry has already been sent to their only living blood-related family member, who just happened to be a muggle. I hope Dumbeldore doesn't disappoint me; I can't let Lily's son be unaware of magic.
He looked at me again and whispered with some happiness, maybe because he finally had somebody to talk to, "From today onwards, you'll not be Septimus Percival Potter but Septimus Prince."
...
Eight years later
July 13, 1989
...
Inside a hidden mansion, unseen on the geographical maps and invisible to the naked eye, a young boy could be seen helping a handsome middle-aged man perform some kind of sorcery that could only be seen in the past: "Septimus, bring me 100 grams of pixie powder, a piece of 1000-year-old devil tree wood, and some fire lizard tails to be the stabilizer."
"Some pixie powder, 1000-year devil wood, and a few fire lizard tails are coming right up, old man, "responded a sweating Septimus, quickly searching through the drawers that he had forced the old man to use since he thought that the jars full of monster parts and ancient plants looked kind of creepy and inefficient. Truly, in most everyday things, wizards had fallen behind by a lot, I thought. The only thing that wizards could be said to be ahead of times was the cleaning spells that finished the job extremely quickly. Although nonemagicals in the future had most of things done with electricity, currently there is quite a wide difference in efficiency.
Similar to the use of drawers, many other things from the muggles were used inside the mansion, for example, a TV that Snape used to enjoy watching daily and pens when writing things down. I still remember the times when I wrote for hours with ink and quills. Although I also wanted there to be working Internet, I was quickly stopped and told by Uncle Snape that many wizards had tried but to no avail; usually only explosions came. It was also rumored that the famous explosion spell Bombardo was created by a half-blood wizard a few years ago, when the Internet was invented by some famous muggle.
Quite disappointed, I decided to leave this plan for the future when I had become a stronger wizard in the ranks of people like the old man and deputy head, Minerva McGonagall.
I tried to make Uncle Snape use Tinder, but the only thing I got was to make crying potions for the whole day. The main ingredient being the tears of sirens that make you also cry, so by the end of the day, I had filled a bucket that he had happily gifted me.
As usual, my morning was spent helping Snape make potions. He liked to tell me that it was to show me what being a potion master takes and the dedication and experience the art of brewing potions requires. Whenever I made potions, he always nags me about my hand posture or the millisecond difference in inserting an ingredient. His every-day lines were that a potion had to be brewed carefully to achieve the proper effects, and even a single difference could make the effects of the potion reverse and turn into poison.
My afternoons were spent learning different wizard manners and reading new potion books that my uncle could make appear out of thin air. Till now, I have counted at least a hundred; two years ago, I lost count around the 80th book.
In the evenings, I usually spent practicing defense against the dark arts with uncle Snape, who had always wanted to be a defense against the dark arts teacher since the defeat of the one who must not be named.
In addition, on some afternoons, me and Uncle Snape would visit his best friend Lucius Malfoy and his son Draco Malfoy. Whenever I visited, I would tell Draco stories of the wizard world, and sometimes I would teach him some potion knowledge and a few simple spells that Uncle Snape had taught me. I wanted to be allowed to teach most of the spells that I had learned, except for some that were quite simple and common. It wasn't like he could learn those harder spells anyway, since he might be quite smart and witty, but I wouldn't consider him a genius.
...
As the moon rose in the night sky, I wondered how I found myself in such a situation. I was reincarnated in the world of Harry Potter, which had been so famous that even I, in the orphanage, had a chance to read all of the books and watch all the movies. Maybe some higher being pitied my sad death and gave me a second chance in life, or was it just normal that you would get reincarnated into another fictional novel or something?
"Life really plays tricks on you sometimes; to be hit by a truck—is this one of those transmigration novels or what?" I whispered in the dark of the night. Uncle Snape had woken up quite a few times from his beauty sleep, or what he liked to call a necessary rest for a true wizard who had worked hard the whole day. Every time he was woken up, he made sure that my life was hell, making me use porcupine quills in potions and fire stones that, with a single mistake, could burn my hair and eyebrows so that I would look like a certain baldy.
"I will change the wizard world and see the truths of what magic really is, "I yelled arrogantly, waking up the slumbering beauty from his beauty sleep and forcing me to use the disillusionment charm, even though I knew that he could see through it with just a glance.
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