Ever since coming back Aren had been experimenting with his magic but so far there had been no results. Who is stupid enough to limit themselves to a wand of all things, it's not like it gives the user any benefits except allowing them access to their Magical core so that they may perform magic easily? Therefore, Aren has used the knowledge that he had gained from his previous life as a part-time Otaku. The Different fantasy genre that he read could be used to turn him into a powerhouse.
But, what's the fun in that? Sure, getting all powerful will help him in some tough situations but that is not what he is aiming for. No, No, No, what Aren desires is to be alive! Just like that time when he chocked the life out of that Man!!
Just like that time when I chocked the life of that pretty redhaired girls' husband. The way he begged for his life, that expression that he made.
Ahhhhhh! Just thinking about it made Arens blood boil in excitement. 'Well can't have that, now can we? Oh! Henry, where are you? Let's play a game…'
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Oh! Harry, I have read of the trails you will face for the next seven years, therefore, please don't mind If I made my own contributions to the trials that you will face.
Oh! Harry, I can wait to meet you, I know we will be the best of friends. I will be there every step of the way by your side. After all, I don't want to miss a single expression of your face when your loss the things that you have come to hold dear to your heart.
Oh! Harry, I wonder what kind of face you will make when you see the truth revealed to you by yours truly. (Hysterical Laughter)
The poor child Henry was emotionally bullied by Aren who continued to tease him with the rest of the brats following his lead, but the caretakers just had to ruin his fun.
Oh well! Project Henry had to be delayed until his return from Hogwarts. Aren meditated to find his inner core until it was time to leave for king's cross. One of the caretakers drove him to the station before leaving.
Entering the magical side of the platform Aren didn't bother interacting with the others. Instead, he found an empty cabin and made himself comfortable.
After 10 minutes a boy dressed in rags entered the cabin. If it was not for the scar on his forehead Aren would not have bothered stopping him from leaving. It looks like fate has changed sides. Thus, A beautiful bond of friendship was created between the two.
After all, they had so much in common such as being orphans, and nothing else comes to mind. Regardless, what matters is that they are friends.
For the next 20 minutes Aren entertained harry by discussing the various movies he had seen, well they were not released yet but technicalities aside they got along very well until that red-haired and freckled complexioned menace decided to show up.
'Oh! Well, I can't exactly hope to torture you emotionally until you make some friends, now can I?' Aren mused to himself as they introduced each other.
Harry was nice enough to share the sweets he bought from the trolley but do that red-haired brat just had to stuff his face as if he had been starved to death.
The wizarding world truly had a weird sense of taste. I mean really 'Every Flavour Beans'. Oh! Well, who was he to judge?
The trip was eventful as the third person of the golden trio made her presence known therefore completing the group.
First step complete, now they just need to become best friends and then the games truly begin. However, Aren had fallen in love, that right can you believe it a psychopath in love.
Never in his life had Aren seen anything more beautiful than the person in front of him calling him a mudblood. That's right the self-proclaimed antagonist Draco was the person that stole Arens heart. If he had any in the first place.
Arens thoughts were spiraling out of control as he thought of the different scenarios Darco could be used after being properly trained (Hysterical Laughter). But he had to be patient for it was not yet the right time.
The train had finally reached Hogsmeade and a half-giant who introduced himself as Hagrid seemed to know Harry judging by their interaction had led them across the lake to serious and stern women called Professor McGonagall. Her eyes suddenly stopped for a moment as it fell on Harry. She seemed to recognize him, and Aren thought for just an instant he saw the corners of her mouth twitch upward into a smile. Then she seemed to collect herself and clearing her throat, she continued with her speech. The Professor told them about how points were assigned or deducted from house totals based upon their behavior and accomplishments. She also told them about the House Cup that was awarded at the end of the year based upon the house points.
After Professor McGonagall left, Harry turned to Ron and Neville, the extremely shy boy who had lost his toad on the train, to see if they knew anything about the Sorting ceremony.
"Well," said Ron, his face looking pale, "Fred and George said it was rather painful, but I think they were just winding me up."
"My Gran said that it was a very serious ceremony and determined how people saw you for the rest of your life," added Neville as he tried to fix his cloak.
Aren didn't bother sharing the information, therefore neither answer really made Harry feel any better about the Sorting. The attention of the group was suddenly diverted when they heard girls scream. They spun around, seeing a large group of glowing translucent figures floating through the wall and over their heads. One of the figures, a jolly-looking man in a monk's robe stopped and looked down at the children below him.
"Oh, hello," said the friendly-looking figure of the monk. "What are you all doing here?"
"We're waiting to be sorted, sir," Aren answered as he stepped in front of the other students to display a good image of himself. Well, He was curious to converse with a ghost after all its not every day you get such an opportunity.
"Oh, how marvelous," beamed the silvery figure. "I do hope that some of you will be sorted into my house."
Aren wanted to ask what house that was when the ghosts, for Harry assumed that was what they were, seemed to forget all about them and floated on through the wall without another word. It was a rather strange feeling to talk with someone that was long dead, But the question Aren was most curious was, what is it like to de death? What is the difference when you were alive and now?
But it was not the right time for it. Ever since he had transmigrated the word 'BUT' had been nightmare that keeps popping up again and again. Aren would like nothing more than shredding it into pieces, but he had to be patient. Uhhhh! How annoying.
As he turned to the brats, Harry was conversing with Neville and Ron about the ghosts, Aren noticed that many of the students were looking at him with awe and respect in their eyes.
Aren had to fight hard not to laugh out loud, 'yes this was what was aiming for'. Arens confidence seemed to be contagious as everyone had calmed down and forgotten how nervous they were about the sorting.
Once they entered the Great Hall Aren was amazed at the charming roof. It was truly a spectacular piece of magic. The room was enormous and seemed to have no ceiling as Aren found himself looking up at the starlit sky far above. That was not the only thing that caught Aren's eye. There were also hundreds of candles floating in the air. Truly a spectacular piece of magic.
Then there were the four long tables that ran from one end of the room to the other, finally stopping before a raised area where the teachers sat at yet another long table. Despite all of this, Aren and Harry could vaguely make out Hermione whispering about enchanted ceilings and such, but unlike Harry, Aren was not listening to her. His concentration was on Albus Dumbledore. Sitting on a golden chair at the center of the teachers' table sat the man who was the strongest wizard alive and the man who would be the biggest obstacle towards his plans of joy and enjoyment.
Everyone's attention was drawn to the sight of Professor McGonagall carrying a small stool and a tattered old wizard's hat out into the center of the platform. when a rip in the hat suddenly opened like a mouth, and the hat began to sing a song which described the virtues of the four Houses. Once it was finished, Professor McGonagall began calling out names from a sheet of parchment.
"Hannah Abbott!"
A pink-faced girl with pigtails shakily walked up and sat on the stool which was placed on an elevated platform, facing the rest of the students. The Hat was lowered on her head and within a few seconds, the brim opened as it shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table below the yellow and black decorations cheered for their newest member as the girl hurried towards them.
"Susan Bones!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Aren Blood!"
Aren stepped forward as the hat was dropped on his head and immediately followed by a shout.
"RAVENCLAW!"
Similarly, several other students were sorted as well. Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass were both sorted into Slytherin. Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom were sent to Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy went to Slytherin and when it reached the letter P, it was finally Harry's turn. The room instantly went quiet at the sound of Harry's name. He watched heads turning towards him from every table in the room. Even the Slytherins took notice of him.
Poor Harry was rather disturbed to suddenly be at the center of so much attention, but Harry took a deep breath and confidently made his way up to the stool. Taking a seat, Harry lifted the battered hat up onto his head and let it fall over his eyes. The Hat took his time before eventually sorting him in Gryffindor.
Harry could not believe the reaction he got from the Gryffindor table. All the while the Weasley twins were doing a little dance and shouting, "We got Potter!" as they spun themselves around. Aren smiled throughout the event as Harry was welcomed and congratulated upon his arrival. The plot of was finally moving forward for the protagonist.
Dumbledore finally stands, the old professor looked as if he was the happiest man in the world as he stood and looked out at the students in front of him.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," said the old man in a firm but cheerful voice. "Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words, and here they are. Nitwit, blubber, oddment, and tweak. Thank you."
Without another word, Dumbledore sat back down. the golden plates in front of him were filled with heaping piles of steaming food. All of Harry's favorite foods were arranged along the table and he could not wait to have some of every bit of it. The smell alone was enough to make Aren's mouth water. Aren filled his plate, sampling a bit of everything he could reach, all the while listening to the conversations around him. Never in his life has been Aren so disappointed as he was of the food he just ate. In his previous life he had dined in the finest of restaurants in the world, therefore, he could tell with great confidence that the food here only passable. It only looked appetizing but lacked in everything else. The talents of the house elves had been wasted but not teaching the excellent cuisines and recipes of the modern age.
Once the food disappeared and the golden cutlery cleaned, Albus Dumbledore stood up.
"Just a few short of term announcements. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students," the headmaster said. "Quidditch trials will be held two weeks from now, and any further clarifications will be handled by Madam Hooch."
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die of a most painful death."
Dumbledore's eyes observed the expressions of everyone in the hall. After several moments, he beamed. "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song," said the old man with a smile.
With a flick of his wand, a long golden ribbon streamed out of the end of it, forming itself into the words of the song. "Everyone picks your favorite tune, and off we go."
Suddenly the room was filled with the most disturbing sound that Aren had ever heard before as everyone began singing the school song. That would not have been so bad if everyone had been singing the same song. Instead, everyone the song to different tunes and the sound of it grated on Aren's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.
The song seemed to go on forever until the only two people left singing were Fred and George Weasley, sing to the tune of a slow funeral march. Aren would have laughed at the fact that Dumbledore conducted the last few verses with his wand if he was not so irritated.
"That's it for tonight. Your beds await you. Good night!" Dumbledore said a few more words as he dismissed everyone.