Ronald Bilius Weasley, the caretaker of New Hogwarts, reluctantly packed his belongings after receiving an urgent relocation notice, stuffing them into the enchanted suitcase designated for faculty and student luggage.
It had been only three months since their last relocation, and he had just begun to adjust to life in the forest. Yet, the Ministry's hounds had tracked them down again. They hadn't gone down without a fight—in fact, in the first year of the war, they had achieved remarkable success. In less than a year, they had destroyed the locket, the diadem, and Nagini. Only Hufflepuff's cup remained, and then they could permanently defeat the Dark Lord. But why, at the cusp of victory, did that blasted Potter have to go off alone to face Voldemort in a duel? If it weren't for Potter's idiotic decision to challenge Voldemort single-handedly, Ronald wouldn't be stuck with Hermione at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets on the second floor of the castle.
He distinctly remembered hissing in Parseltongue, exactly as Potter had done in his dreams, but the cursed entrance refused to open! If it weren't for that blasted Potter and his blasted Parseltongue, Ronald would have destroyed the cup by now. As the hero who had destroyed two Horcruxes, he would have been celebrated by all, winning the heart of the woman Potter adored. But no—everything fell apart the moment he and Hermione were blocked at the Chamber's entrance. Voldemort, defeated by Potter, was revived by his loyal Death Eaters. The cup was stolen, his glory was stolen, and even Hermione Granger, whom he had fancied since their sixth year, was stolen from him!
Ronald Bilius Weasley was reduced to a mere caretaker of New Hogwarts—a title in name only. His daily tasks amounted to sweeping tents and sorting supplies!
Meanwhile, that wretched Potter spent every day with Hermione Granger, basking in the praise of students and professors alike, with the woman who should have been his.
To make matters worse, over the past year or two, his family had grown distant. Percy, the Transfiguration professor, strutted around arrogantly in his presence. Bill, the Charms professor, and his wife Fleur barely acknowledged him. Charlie was abroad. Fred and George, who taught Potions together, were slightly kinder, but they always sided with Hermione and Potter. His mother, the only one he was somewhat close to, was perpetually busy in the kitchen with Ginny. As for his father, the last time Ronald had seen him was five months ago, when he briefly returned from abroad.
Resentment festered in his heart. He swore that one day, he would make those who looked down on him, who distanced themselves from him, pay the price. One day, the world would know that he, Ronald Weasley, was the brightest star of all!
In the quiet of the night, the people of New Hogwarts packed their belongings with practiced efficiency. Students, led by prefects, hid inside the enchanted suitcase. Professors with stronger combat skills stood guard outside, while less battle-ready staff took refuge in the mobile kitchen. Three carriages, carrying Headmistress McGonagall, scout Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and a pile of tents, set off with all of New Hogwarts' possessions, searching through the darkness for their next temporary haven.
At eight o'clock that evening, Albus Dumbledore, draped in a voluminous black cloak, appeared in Godric's Hollow with a series of faint pops.
Their original plan had been to summon this world's Fawkes and use the phoenix's power to reach the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, where they could inquire about the state of the wizarding world from the current headmaster. Strangely, no matter how he called, this world's Fawkes did not appear. Without the phoenix's aid, and to avoid potential dangers or complications at Hogwarts that could trap him, Dumbledore had no choice but to go to his old home in Godric's Hollow to activate the backdoor he had left in the Headmaster's office fireplace.
Avoiding passersby similarly cloaked in dark robes, Dumbledore arrived at an empty plot of land. He first cast protective spells around the area with the Elder Wand. Then, retrieving the old wand he hadn't used since acquiring the Elder Wand, he tapped a triangular stone slab. An aged house materialized on the empty plot.
After dispelling the enchantments surrounding the house, he pushed open the wooden door with a piercing creak and stepped into a home he thought he would never return to.
The living room reeked of dampness and mold, mingled with the scent of dust. The chandelier on the ceiling was long broken, leaving only a bare bulb dangling. Cobwebs draped every surface, and the wallpaper had peeled away, revealing yellowed bricks speckled with green mold. The old carpet on the floor was so faded its color was indistinguishable, buried under layers of dust and marked by the gnawings of some small creature.
Beside the carpet, a dilapidated sofa slouched in a corner, its fabric torn, exposing yellowed sponge within, also coated in dust and on the verge of collapse.
The coffee table was littered with yellowed newspapers and magazines, their pages brittle and stiff. The figures in the photographs had lost their magical motion, reduced to gray smudges.
Pushing open the study's wooden door and clearing the dust from the bookshelves with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore located a hidden switch. He tapped it three times with his wand, and the bookshelf slowly rotated. Seconds later, a small room appeared before him.
Dumbledore gazed at his own portrait, where he was dozing, and gently clapped his hands.
The portrait of Dumbledore startled awake, then looked toward the sound, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
"If my memory serves me correctly, I should be dead, shouldn't I?" said the portrait, clad in a purple robe, studying the black-robed version of himself. "Or has someone finally discovered a way to resurrect the dead?"
Dumbledore (from another world) briefly explained his origins to his portrait counterpart, then asked, "What is the situation at Hogwarts now?"
The portrait sighed. "From what I gathered before my portrait in the Headmaster's office was destroyed, things at Hogwarts are grim…"
The portrait continued, "We lost the war. The Death Eaters control the Ministry and Hogwarts. Rodolphus Lestrange is now Headmaster of Hogwarts. Minerva managed to lead the students to safety before Tom fully seized the school, establishing New Hogwarts elsewhere. The original Hogwarts has become a training ground for Death Eaters. They capture pure-blood witches and wizards, forcing them into pairings and indoctrinating them with violence and darkness. Muggle-born children are enslaved. Beyond that, I know little."
"Do you have any intelligence on Tom Riddle?" Dumbledore asked.
"In the battle before Hogwarts fell, I heard Minerva refer to Voldemort as 'they,'" the portrait said, gazing at his counterpart with a heavy tone.