The portrait of Dilys Derwent shifted in her frame, her painted eyes gleaming with memory. "You youngsters don't know true greatness when you see it," she declared to the other portraits in the Headmaster's office. "In all my years as Healer at St. Mungo's, I never witnessed magic like his."
"Ah yes, the Indian prodigy," murmured Armando Dippet's portrait. "Even in my time as Headmaster, his legend persisted. They say he revolutionized magical theory itself."
Dumbledore sat quietly at his desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, listening to the portraits debate. A small smile played at his lips as he remembered the extraordinary student who had walked Hogwarts' halls decades ago. Fawkes trilled softly, sensing his wizard's nostalgia.
"Professor?" Minerva McGonagall stood at the doorway, her expression curious. "You sent for me?"
"Indeed, Minerva. Please, sit." Dumbledore gestured to the chair across from him. "I believe it's time we discussed a rather important addition to our faculty."
McGonagall's eyebrows rose. "Another Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Albus, you know that position is cursed—"
"Not Defense," Dumbledore interrupted gently, his blue eyes twinkling. "Advanced Magical Theory and Combat Applications. A new position, for a very old friend."
Before McGonagall could respond, the door burst open. Severus Snape strode in, his black robes billowing dramatically. "Albus, I received your owl. You can't possibly mean—" He stopped abruptly, noticing McGonagall's presence.
"Ah, Severus. Perfect timing." Dumbledore's smile widened. "I was just about to tell Minerva about our prospective colleague."
Snape's usual scowl softened almost imperceptibly. "He agreed, then?"
"He did. After much persuasion, I might add. Anant was quite content with his research in India."
McGonagall looked between the two men, bewildered, then shocked and then excitement "is he coming?" she ask them with quivering whispering.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming distant with memory. " Yes Minerva, he is coming the Golden Hufflepuff! The Undefeated Champion! The Creator of the Hado System!"
"He is more than a Student like a living Legend like you—" McGonagall began, but Snape's bark of laughter cut her off.
"Legends?" Snape's voice held an uncharacteristic warmth. "Minerva, some legends are born from truth. Anant Gupta was no legend. He was real, brilliant, and quite possibly the most powerful wizard I've ever encountered."
"Even more than—" McGonagall glanced meaningfully at Dumbledore.
"In raw magical power and innovation? Yes," Dumbledore said simply, without a trace of jealousy but have immense proud and respect. "Though I like to think I have more experience. Anant was my student, or ours Minerva after all. A remarkable one at that." which make her nod with smile and proud like how mother feel proud on her child.
Snape moved to the window, gazing out at the Hogwarts grounds. "He saved my life more times than I can count during our school years. Not just from physical harm, but from the darkness I was beginning to embrace."
"Tell me about him as I want to hear his legend once again," McGonagall said with nostalgic smile, settling into her chair with the air of someone preparing for a long story.
Dumbledore conjured three cups of tea with a casual wave of his wand. "Very well. But I warn you just don't retire after remember how much of a prodigy in even during highschool days." he said while chuckling which make Minerva chuckle where Snape just smile slightly.
The Marauder Era - Memories in Silver and Gold September 1971: The Sorting
The Great Hall fell silent as Professor McGonagall's voice rang out: "Gupta, Anant!"
A tall boy with warm brown skin with the touch of Royalty lineage and striking features stepped forward. His black hair fell just past his ears, and his dark eyes held an unusual depth for an eleven-year-old. He moved with a grace that drew whispers from the watching students.
"Is he really from India?" a first-year Gryffindor whispered.
"I heard he defeated three dark wizards before coming here," another responded.
"That's rubbish. He's just a student like us," said a boy with messy black hair and glasses—James Potter.
The Sorting Hat barely touched Anant's head before shouting: "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, but several students at other tables looked puzzled. Even the Hat seemed to have paused, as if considering.
Later, Anant would learn that the Hat had whispered to him alone: "Curious. You possess the cunning of Slytherin, the courage of Gryffindor, the wisdom of Ravenclaw, and the loyalty of Hufflepuff. A true embodiment of Hogwarts itself. But your heart values fairness and hard work above all. Hufflepuff will be your home, though you shall bring honor to all houses."
As Anant walked to his table, a greasy-haired boy with a hooked nose watched him intently from the Slytherin table. Severus Snape had noticed something others missed—the way Anant's magical aura shimmered, far more pronounced than any other student.
October 1971: First Encounter
The Potions classroom was tense. Professor Slughorn had paired students randomly for a complex potion, and Severus Snape found himself working with Anant Gupta.
"Don't mess this up," Snape muttered, meticulously measuring ingredients.
Anant smiled calmly. "I assure you, I'm quite proficient in Potions. My grandmother was an expert in Ayurvedic potions and alchemical processes dating back to the Gupta Empire."
Snape's head snapped up. "The Gupta Empire? That's over fifteen hundred years old."
"Sixteen hundred, actually. My family has preserved the ancient texts." Anant began preparing his ingredients with practiced efficiency that made even Snape blink in surprise.
As they worked, Snape found himself relaxing. Anant didn't talk unnecessarily, understood complex magical theory instinctively, and moved with a precision that reminded Snape of himself.
"You're different from the others," Snape said quietly as their potion turned the perfect shade of silver.
Anant glanced at him, his dark eyes knowing. "As are you, Severus Snape. As are you."
Their potion earned full marks and impressed Slughorn so thoroughly that he invited both boys to his next gathering. It was the beginning of an unlikely friendship.
December 1971: The Quidditch Incident
James Potter was insufferable. That was Severus Snape's consistent opinion throughout their first term. Potter and his group—Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, who were calling themselves "the Marauders"—seemed to think Hogwarts was their personal playground.
It was after a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin that things came to a head. Snape was walking near the pitch, absorbed in a book on advanced Transfiguration, when he heard laughter.
"Oi, Snivellus! Like our performance today?" James Potter's voice rang out.
Snape's jaw tightened. He turned to see all four Marauders approaching, their faces flushed with victory. Lily Evans, a Muggle-born Gryffindor with brilliant red hair, trailed behind them, looking uncomfortable.
"Leave him alone, James," Lily said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"We're just talking, Evans. Aren't we, Snivellus?" Sirius Black's aristocratic features twisted into a sneer. "Or are you going to run crying to—"
"To whom exactly?"
The new voice was soft but carried an edge that made everyone freeze. Anant emerged from behind a nearby tree, where he'd apparently been practicing his morning exercises. His shirt was off, revealing a physique that seemed impossible for a first-year—lean muscle wrapped around a frame that spoke of rigorous physical training.
"This doesn't concern you, Hufflepuff," James said dismissively, though his wand hand twitched.
Anant walked forward with that peculiar grace of his. Sweat still glistened on his brown skin from his Kalaripayattu practice—an ancient Indian martial art that combined physical combat with meditative focus.
"When you bully my friend, it concerns me greatly." Anant's voice remained calm, but his eyes had hardened.
Sirius laughed. "Your friend? This greasy git?"
"Enough." The single word from Anant carried weight. "James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew. I'm giving you one chance to apologize to Severus and walk away."
James's face reddened. "You think you can threaten us? There are four of us and one of you!"
"I'm aware of basic arithmetic, thank you." Anant pulled on his shirt calmly. "I'm also aware that you're all first-years who rely on your family names and group intimidation rather than actual skill. Shall we test that theory?"
"James, maybe we should—" Remus began, but James was already raising his wand.
"Expelliarmus!"
Anant didn't even draw his wand. He simply moved—a fluid sidestep that made James's spell miss by inches. Then he was there, his hand on James's wrist, applying pressure to a specific point. James yelped and dropped his wand.
"Rule one of magical combat," Anant said conversationally, "never rely solely on magic when your opponent knows physical combat."
Sirius and Peter both fired spells. Anant released James and dropped low, both spells sailing over his head. His wand appeared in his hand as if by magic—though it was simply extraordinary speed—and he cast wandlessly first.
"Protego Maxima."
The shield that materialized was unlike anything the first-years had seen. It shimmered with golden light, intricate patterns dancing across its surface. When Remus's spell hit it, the shield absorbed the magic and sent it spiraling harmlessly into the ground.
"Rule two," Anant continued, moving toward Sirius, "shields aren't just defensive."
He gestured, and the shield contracted into a sphere before shooting forward. It knocked Sirius off his feet without causing injury, simply pushing him back firmly.
"And rule three"—Anant was suddenly behind Peter, who squeaked in fear—"never underestimate your opponent based on their house."
James scrambled for his wand, rage overtaking sense. "Impedimenta! Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!"
Anant spun, his movements flowing like water. Each spell was deflected with minimal wand movements, his casting so smooth it seemed like dancing. Then he pointed his wand at James.
"Immobulus Perfectus."
James froze mid-cast, his eyes wide with shock. The spell was far beyond first-year level—more advanced than even some seventh-years could manage.
Anant walked to each Marauder calmly. "I'm releasing you now. When I do, you will apologize to Severus, and then we'll forget this happened. Understood?"
He released the spell. James stumbled, his face a mixture of embarrassment and grudging respect. Sirius looked furious but subdued. Remus appeared thoughtful, while Peter simply looked terrified.
"I..." James cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Snape. That was... that wasn't cool."
It wasn't gracious, but it was an apology. Severus nodded stiffly, his expression unreadable.
The Marauders left, but not before James shot Anant a look that promised this wasn't over. Lily Evans, who had watched the entire exchange with wide eyes, approached slowly.
"That was amazing," she breathed. "How did you do all that?"
Anant turned to her, his expression polite but distant. "Training and discipline, Miss Evans. Nothing more."
"Lily. Please, call me Lily." She smiled brightly, pushing her red hair behind her ear. "I'd love to learn more about your techniques. Maybe we could study together sometime?"
Snape's expression darkened, though he tried to hide it. Anant noticed.
"Perhaps. I'm usually quite busy with my own studies, but I'll keep that in mind." He turned to Snape. "Come, Severus. I believe you were going to show me that Potions text you mentioned."
As they walked away, Lily watched Anant's retreating form with obvious interest. Severus noticed and felt his stomach sink.
March 1973: The Proposal
By their second year, Anant's reputation had grown exponentially. He had won every dueling competition he entered, earned perfect marks in every subject, and even Professor Flitwick admitted he'd never seen such natural talent in Charms. But more than his magical prowess, students spoke of his kindness—how he helped younger students with their homework, stopped bullying whenever he witnessed it, and treated house-elves with the same respect he showed professors.
Lily Evans had become increasingly obvious in her affection. She sought him out in the library, saved him seats in classes they shared, and laughed perhaps too enthusiastically at his rare jokes.
Severus Snape noticed. He always noticed where Lily was concerned. His friendship with Anant had deepened significantly—they spent hours discussing magical theory, experimenting with spells, and sharing their backgrounds. But watching Lily orbit around Anant created a complex tangle of emotions in Severus's chest.
One spring evening by the Black Lake, Lily finally made her move. She'd asked Anant to meet her there under the pretense of discussing a Transfiguration assignment. Severus, studying nearby under a tree with a clear view, watched with his heart in his throat.
"Anant," Lily began, her cheeks pink, "I... I need to tell you something."
Anant looked up from the water, his expression calm and attentive. "Of course. What's troubling you?"
"I like you." The words tumbled out. "I really like you. More than a friend. I think about you all the time, and I was wondering if... if maybe you felt the same?"
Severus's hands clenched around his book, his knuckles white.
Anant was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentle but firm. "Lily, you honor me with your feelings, truly. You're intelligent, kind, and possess remarkable magical talent. But I must be honest with you—I don't share those romantic feelings."
Lily's face fell. "Is it because I'm Muggle-born? Because if—"
"Nothing of the sort," Anant interrupted. "Your heritage means nothing to me except that it makes your achievements even more impressive. But Lily, I came to Hogwarts with a purpose. My family sent me here to learn, to grow, and to bridge the gap between Eastern and Western magical traditions. Romance, relationships—these are distractions I cannot afford right now."
"But surely you must feel something—"
"I feel friendship," Anant said firmly but kindly. "Deep friendship and respect. I value you greatly, Lily. But I'm not looking for romance, not with you or anyone else. I'm focused entirely on my studies and my goals. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."
Tears welled in Lily's eyes. "So that's it? You're just... rejecting me?"
"I'm being honest with you, which is all I can offer. You deserve honesty." Anant stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the setting sun. "You're going to find someone who will appreciate you properly, someone who can give you the attention and affection you deserve. That person isn't me."
Lily's sadness morphed into anger. "Fine. Fine! If that's how you feel, then... then..."
She turned and ran, leaving Anant standing alone by the lake. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.
"You can come out now, Severus," he called.
Snape emerged from behind his tree, his expression conflicted. "You knew I was there?"
"I always know when you're nearby. Your magical signature is quite distinctive." Anant gestured for him to approach. "I imagine you heard everything."
"Yes." Severus sat on a nearby rock, staring at the lake. "She really likes you."
"She thinks she does. In reality, I suspect she's attracted to the idea of me more than the reality." Anant sat beside him. "Severus, I need to tell you something, and I need you to actually hear me."
Snape looked at him warily.
"Stop wasting your time on Lily Evans."
Severus flinched as if struck. "I don't—"
"Please. I'm your friend, which means I see things others don't. You follow her with your eyes in every class. You modify your schedule to match hers. You've abandoned your Slytherin friends because she disapproves of them." Anant's voice was firm but not unkind. "You're brilliant, Severus. Truly brilliant. You could revolutionize Potions, develop new spells, achieve greatness. But you're letting an infatuation with a girl who will never return your feelings hold you back."
"You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly. You've known her since before Hogwarts. She was kind to you when others weren't. You've built her up in your mind as this perfect thing, and you're terrified of losing her friendship." Anant placed a hand on Severus's shoulder. "But Severus, she's already slipping away. Not because of me, but because you're both growing in different directions. She gravitates toward Gryffindors like Potter, while you're being drawn deeper into Dark Magic."
"I'm not—"
"Don't lie to yourself. I've seen the books you read when you think no one's watching. I've noticed the students you've been talking to lately—Mulciber, Avery, the ones planning to join You-Know-Who after graduation." Anant's grip tightened. "You're my friend, which means I won't let you destroy yourself chasing a fantasy or falling into darkness. We came here to study, to learn, to become better. Focus on that. Focus on your potions mastery, your spell creation. Focus on being Severus Snape, not Lily Evans's lovesick follower."
Severus's face flushed with embarrassment and anger. "You have no right—"
"I have every right. That's what friends do—they tell you the truth even when it hurts."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore. Finally, Severus spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
"What if you're wrong? What if she could... eventually..."
"Then I'm wrong, and you can tell me 'I told you so' at our wedding." Anant's tone softened. "But Severus, even if I'm wrong about Lily specifically, I'm right about the rest. You're too focused on someone who doesn't see you the way you want to be seen. And that's clouding everything else—your judgment, your goals, your future."
Severus was quiet for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he nodded. "Perhaps... perhaps you have a point."
"Good. Now, let's talk about that modification you were making to the Wolfsbane Potion theory. I had some thoughts about incorporating Sanskrit runic sequences that might stabilize the transformation process better..."
As they delved into academic discussion, the tension eased. Neither noticed Lily watching from a distance, her expression hurt and confused.
May 1973: Unexpected Developments
Two weeks later, the school was abuzz with news: Lily Evans and James Potter were dating.
Anant learned about it when a fellow Hufflepuff mentioned it at breakfast. He glanced at the Gryffindor table, where James had his arm around Lily's shoulders, looking remarkably smug. When James caught Anant's eye, he smirked—a childish gesture of victory.
Anant blinked, genuinely confused. Was James trying to make him jealous? Did he not understand that Anant had rejected Lily? The whole thing was baffling.
"Well," Anant muttered to his porridge, "humans are peculiar creatures."
Later that day, he found Severus sitting alone in an abandoned classroom, his expression complex—hurt, angry, and something that looked almost like... relief?
"I heard," Anant said simply, settling beside him.
"Of course you did. The whole bloody school has heard." Severus's voice was bitter. "Potter wins again."
"Does he, though?" Anant tilted his head thoughtfully. "He's dating a girl to prove some point to me, apparently. Lily's dating him possibly to make me jealous, or to hurt her pride after rejection, or maybe because she genuinely likes him—I honestly can't tell human motives anymore." He looked at Severus seriously. "But here's the important question: do you feel devastated?"
Severus opened his mouth, then closed it, considering. "I... yes? I should be devastated. She chose Potter of all people."
"That's not what I asked. I asked if you feel devastated, not if you think you should feel devastated."
Severus was quiet for a long moment. "I feel... hurt. Angry. Betrayed. But also..." He looked genuinely surprised. "Also a bit relieved? I don't understand it. I should be crushed. Why do I feel almost... free?"
Anant smiled slightly. "Because deep down, you knew I was right. You were in love with the idea of Lily, with the memory of your childhood friend, not with who she's becoming. Now that she's definitively chosen someone else, you're released from that impossible hope. The what-ifs are answered."
"That's... surprisingly insightful."
"I have my moments." Anant stood. "Now, come on. You're going to help me with this project I'm working on. I'm trying to combine Eastern martial magic with Western dueling techniques, and I need a brilliant mind to help me work through the theoretical challenges."
Severus stood as well, a small smile forming. "You think I'm brilliant?"
"Obviously. Why else would I tolerate your terrible jokes and worse hygiene?"
"My hygiene is fine!"
"Severus, your hair grease could power the Hogwarts lamps for a month."
"That's—you—" Severus sputtered, then did something rare: he laughed.
They were walking toward the door when Anant casually placed a hand on the back of Severus's head—a friendly gesture he'd picked up from his cousins in India. Except he didn't account for his strength.
The slap was light by Anant's standards. By Severus's standards, it felt like being hit by a runaway bludger.
"Ow! What the—" Severus stumbled forward, actually tumbling head over heels, his robes flying up around him. He rolled twice before crashing into a desk with a loud bang.
Anant's eyes widened in horror. "Severus! I'm so sorry! I forgot to—are you alright?"
Severus lay sprawled on the floor, groaning. "Remind me... never to make you... actually angry..."
"I barely touched you!"
"Your 'barely' could knock out a troll!" Severus sat up, rubbing his head. "What are you made of, dragon hide and steel?"
"Kalaripayattu training since I was four." Anant helped him up carefully, as if handling something fragile. "I practice every morning for two hours. It conditions the body to withstand extreme physical stress and increases strength, speed, and durability."
"That explains the..." Severus gestured vaguely at Anant's physique. "Everything, really. Potter looked like he wanted to die when you took your shirt off during that lake incident."
"Did he? I didn't notice."
"You never notice when you intimidate people. It's simultaneously frustrating and admirable."
As they left the classroom, neither noticed the small smile on Severus's face—the first genuine one he'd worn in weeks.
Years of Legend June 1974: The Sports Championship
Anant stood in the center of the Quidditch pitch, facing seven of Hogwarts's best duelists in the annual Inter-House Championship. Unlike Quidditch, this was pure magical combat—a tournament that tested everything from spell accuracy to tactical thinking to physical endurance.
He'd swept through every round without losing a single match. Now, in the championship exhibition match, the professors had arranged something special: Anant versus a team of seventh-years.
"This is absurd," Professor McGonagall had protested. "He's only a third-year!"
"But what a third-year," Dumbledore had replied, eyes twinkling. "Let's see what young Mr. Gupta can truly do."
The match began with a flash. Seven wands pointed at Anant, seven spells flying. Anant's response was beautiful in its simplicity—he created a rotating shield that caught each spell and redirected them in a spiral pattern, forcing the seventh-years to dodge their own magic.
Then he moved. Not ran—moved. His Kalaripayattu training had taught him to flow like water, and that's exactly what he did. He was between two duelists before they could react, stunning them both with wandless magic while physically dodging hexes from the others.
"Hado Technique: Wave Break!" he called out, implementing a new spell he'd been developing.
Blue energy rippled from his wand in concentric circles, disrupting magical concentration. Three more duelists fell as their spells fizzled mid-cast.
The remaining two—both powerful seventh-years—combined their magic in a technique that should have overwhelmed any single opponent. Twin beams of purple energy converged on Anant's position.
He didn't dodge. Instead, he thrust his wand forward and shouted: "Hado Technique: Mountain Stance!"
A golden barrier erupted from the ground, shaped like a mountain peak. The combined spell hit it and simply... stopped. No explosion, no dramatic clash—the energy was absorbed completely.
"Impossible," one seventh-year breathed.
"Not impossible," Anant said calmly. "Just a different understanding of magical flow." He released the barrier and sent two precise stunning spells, ending the match.
The crowd erupted. Hufflepuff students were screaming themselves hoarse. Even students from other houses were cheering.
Later, Dumbledore presented Anant with the Champion's Cup. "Mr. Gupta, in all my years at Hogwarts, I've never seen such comprehensive mastery of combat magic. How did you develop these 'Hado techniques'?"
Anant's answer was humble: "I simply combined what you taught me with what my ancestors knew, Professor. Magic is universal—it's only our approaches that differ."
June 1976: The Triwizard Equivalent
Though the Triwizard Tournament was suspended, Hogwarts occasionally hosted magical competitions with other schools. In Anant's fifth year, a special championship was arranged between Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons—a modified version for students under seventeen.
When Anant's name emerged from the selection goblet, no one was surprised.
The challenges were brutal. The first task required magical navigation through an enchanted maze filled with dark creatures. Anant completed it in record time, using a combination of tracking spells and physical prowess to overcome obstacles that baffled other competitors.
The second task involved underwater magical combat. While others struggled with breathing spells and water resistance, Anant seemed perfectly at home, moving through the lake with the grace he'd learned diving in India's southern waters.
The final task was pure combat—a multi-stage duel against a champion from each school. Anant faced Viktor Krum's older brother and a Beauxbatons champion who had already graduated but returned for the competition.
The duel lasted three hours. Spectators watched in awe as Anant demonstrated every technique he'd developed—Hado spells that bent reality in impossible ways, physical combat that bridged martial arts and magic, and strategic thinking that outmaneuvered opponents with years more experience.
When he finally won, even his defeated opponents applauded. The Durmstrang champion approached afterward, shaking Anant's hand firmly. "Your magic... I've never seen anything like it. This 'Hado' system—would you teach me?"
And Anant, being Anant, simply smiled. "Of course. Magic is meant to be shared."
June 1978: The Final Year and Greatest Achievement
Severus Snape sat in the back of the Advanced Magical Theory classroom, watching Anant present his final year project to a panel of professors and Ministry officials. Seven years of friendship had taught Severus that Anant was extraordinary, but this... this was beyond anything he'd imagined.
"The fundamental flaw in modern magical combat," Anant explained, magical diagrams floating around him, "is that we treat spells as discrete entities. Fire spell. Water spell. Shield spell. Each separate, each unique. But magic doesn't work that way—not at its core."
He gestured, and the diagrams merged. "Magic is energy. Pure, flowing, interconnected energy. What if, instead of memorizing thousands of individual spells, we understood the underlying principles? What if we could shape magic itself?"
"That's theoretically possible," interrupted a Ministry official skeptically, "but practically impossible. The complexity—"
"Would be handled through a structured system of paths, or 'Hado.'" Anant's wand moved, creating glowing pathways in the air. "Ninety-nine paths, to be precise. Each path represents a fundamental magical principle—destruction, binding, protection, enhancement. By understanding these paths, a wizard can create infinite variations of spells adapted to any situation."
He demonstrated, his wand flowing through complex patterns. "Hado Path One: Thrust. The simplest offensive principle—pure force." A beam of white light shot forward, precisely controlled. "Hado Path Eight: Binding. Restriction of movement and magic." Golden chains materialized. "Hado Path Fifty-Three: Shield of Mirrors. Reflection and redirection of hostile energy." A complex barrier formed, its surface prismatic.
"But here's the revolutionary part," Anant continued, his eyes alight with passion. "These paths can be combined, modified, enhanced. A student learning Hado doesn't memorize spells—they understand principles. They become true masters of magic, not mere practitioners of preset formulas."
The room was silent. Then Dumbledore began clapping, slowly at first, then joined by others. "Mr. Gupta, you've just revolutionized magical theory."
The presentation led to immediate interest from the International Confederation of Wizards. Publishers wanted books. Schools wanted curriculum. But Anant, characteristically, insisted that his system be made freely available.
"Magic belongs to everyone," he told the Ministry officials firmly. "I won't have my work locked behind paywalls and political gatekeeping."
June 1978: The Malfoy Incident
It was during final term that Lucius Malfoy, a seventh-year Slytherin, made a critical error in judgment.
He'd been tormenting younger students all year, using his family name as a shield. But when he cornered a first-year Muggleborn and began threatening her with dark magic, Anant intervened.
"Step away from her, Malfoy."
Lucius turned, his pale face twisted with aristocratic disdain. "This doesn't concern you, Gupta. Go back to your dorm with the other duffers."
"I'm giving you one chance to apologize and leave."
"You dare threaten me? I'm Lucius Malfoy! My family has—"
"I know exactly who you are." Anant's voice was cold. "You're a coward who hides behind family name and political connections because you lack personal merit. I'm giving you one final chance."
Lucius drew his wand, his face purpling with rage. "You'll regret—"
He didn't finish. Anant didn't even use his wand—he simply pointed his index finger.
"Hado Path One: Thrust. Limited output."
A concentrated beam of blue energy, no thicker than a thread, shot from Anant's fingertip. It hit Lucius's wand hand with surgical precision, causing him to drop his wand. Before Lucius could recover, Anant gestured again.
"Hado Path Eight: Binding."
Chains materialized, wrapping around Lucius and lifting him off the ground. The Slytherin struggled, but the magic held firm.
"Let me be clear," Anant said quietly, approaching. "I don't care about your family name. I don't care about your blood purity nonsense. I care about decent people being left alone to live their lives. If I ever—ever—see you bullying someone again, I won't be this gentle. Understood?"
"I'll... I'll have you expelled! My father—"
"Your father can't touch me, Malfoy. Do you know why?" Anant leaned in close. "Because my family's magical lineage predates most of Europe's magical institutions. Because I've been personally invited to join the International Confederation of Wizards' research division. Because I've achieved more in seven years than your family has in seven generations. But most importantly, because I actually earned my reputation instead of inheriting it."
He released the bindings, letting Lucius fall. "Now get out of my sight."
Lucius scrambled away, his dignity in tatters. The first-year girl stared at Anant with hero worship.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome." Anant smiled gently. "Remember this: your blood status doesn't define you. Your choices do. Now go find your friends."
The incident spread through the school. Lucius tried to have Anant punished, but witnesses confirmed Anant had acted in defense of another student. More importantly, when Abraxas Malfoy himself sent a howler, Dumbledore personally interceded.
"I will not punish a student for protecting another," the Headmaster informed the Malfoy patriarch. "Furthermore, Mr. Gupta acted with remarkable restraint. If anything, I'm proud of him."
June 1978: Farewell
The final feast was bittersweet. Anant sat at the Hufflepuff table, surrounded by friends from all houses. He'd spent seven years at Hogwarts, and the castle had become a second home.
But all good things must end.
After the feast, as students milled about in the warm summer evening, James Potter approached him. Lily was at his side, one hand resting on her slightly rounded belly—they'd married immediately after graduation, and she was already expecting.
"Gupta," James began awkwardly. "I... I wanted to talk to you before you left."
Anant turned, eyebrows raised. "Potter. Or should I say Mr. Potter now?"
"Just James, please." James ran a hand through his messy hair. "Look, I... I was an arse to you. For years. I was jealous, and stupid, and I took it out on you and Snape and anyone else I could. I'm sorry. Genuinely sorry."
Anant blinked, genuinely surprised. "That's... unexpected."
"I grew up. Finally." James glanced at Lily. "Someone helped me see that being a bully doesn't make you strong. And watching you these seven years—how you helped people, stood up for them without being cruel—it made me realize what real strength looks like."
"James has been a different person this year," Lily added. "He even apologized to Severus. Properly apologized."
"I did," James confirmed. "He didn't really accept it, but... I needed to say it anyway."
Anant studied James for a long moment, then extended his hand. "Then I accept your apology, James. And I wish you both happiness."
They shook hands. James grinned—that mischievous grin that had gotten him into trouble for seven years—and stepped aside.
Lily approached. She looked up at Anant, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. "I never properly apologized either. For... for how I acted after you rejected me. I was petty and vindictive, and I tried to use James to make you jealous."
"I know," Anant said gently.
"But somewhere along the way, I actually fell in love with him. Really, genuinely fell in love." She glanced at James with obvious affection. "So thank you, I suppose. For turning me down. If you hadn't, I might never have realized what I had in front of me."
"You're welcome, then."
Lily suddenly hugged him, quick and tight. Then, with a mischievous glint that reminded Anant of the girl she'd been in first year, she kissed his cheek.
Anant actually blushed, a rare sight that made Lily smirk with satisfaction. "Still got it," she murmured, stepping back.
James laughed. "I can't even be jealous. You're right—he really is on a different level."
"Thanks for that," Anant said dryly, still slightly red.
As they walked away, Severus approached. His robes were dark—darker than they'd been in earlier years. Anant noticed but said nothing. Some changes were inevitable.
"So," Severus said quietly. "You're really leaving."
"India calls," Anant confirmed. "My family has research projects that need my attention. Advanced spell theory, ancient texts to decode, that sort of thing."
"Will you come back?"
"Someday, perhaps. If Hogwarts needs me." Anant placed a hand on Severus's shoulder—carefully, having learned to modulate his strength. "Promise me something, Severus."
"What?"
"Promise me you won't lose yourself. You're brilliant, but you're standing at a crossroads. The choices you make in the next few years will define who you become. Choose wisely."
Severus's jaw tightened. "I can handle myself."
"Can you? Because I see the books you read, the company you keep, the direction you're heading. And it worries me." Anant's voice was gentle but firm. "You're my friend, Severus. Possibly my best friend. I don't want to return someday and find you've become something you hate."
"I won't—"
"Just promise me you'll try. That's all I ask."
After a long moment, Severus nodded. "I'll try."
They hugged—a brief, awkward embrace between two people who'd shared seven years of friendship, rivalry, and mutual respect.
"Don't forget about us common folk when you're off revolutionizing magic," Severus said with a crooked smile.
"Impossible. You're far too annoying to forget."
"Git."
"Always."
As Anant walked toward the castle entrance one final time, he paused to look back. Hogwarts stood magnificent in the twilight, its towers reaching toward the stars. Students milled about, some crying, some laughing, all caught in that bittersweet moment between childhood and whatever came next.
Dumbledore stood at the entrance, his blue eyes twinkling. "I have a feeling, Mr. Gupta, that this isn't goodbye. Merely 'until we meet again.'"
"I believe you're right, Professor."
"When you return—and you will return—I suspect Hogwarts will be very glad to see you."
With a final wave, Anant Gupta departed, carrying seven years of memories and leaving behind a legend that would grow with each retelling.
The Present Day September 1991: Letters and Decisions
Dumbledore sat at his desk, holding a letter written in elegant script on parchment that shimmered with protective enchantments. He'd read it three times already, but he was savoring the fourth reading like a fine wine.
The letter began simply:
Dear Albus,
It's been too long since we've corresponded properly. I hope this letter finds you well, and that Fawkes is as magnificent as ever. (Give him my regards—he always did like the treats I used to conjure for him.)
I received your letters—all seventeen of them, each more insistent than the last. Your persistence rivals your stubbornness, which is saying something. But you know me, Albus. I don't make decisions hastily, especially ones that would uproot my life.
You ask me to return to Hogwarts. To teach. To help guide a new generation. You've outlined your concerns about young Harry Potter, about the brewing darkness, about the need for someone who understands combat magic from a perspective different than traditional British methods.
I've spent thirteen years in India, Albus. Thirteen years researching, teaching, developing new magical theories. My Hado system has been adopted by seven magical schools across Asia. I've helped establish new protective wards around vulnerable magical communities. I've trained Aurors in techniques that have saved countless lives.
But you knew all this already. You always know everything, don't you?
What you don't know is that Severus wrote to me as well. His letter was characteristically terse: "Get your arse back here. I need someone sane to talk to." That man has all the emotional expression of a particularly moody gargoyle, but I understood what he couldn't say: he needs a friend. Whatever's happened to him in these years—and I suspect I can guess—has left him isolated and hurting.
So yes, Albus. I'll come back. Not just because you asked, though your words carry weight. Not just because Severus needs me, though that alone might have been enough. But because when I meditate and reach out to magic itself, I feel a pull toward Hogwarts. Something is coming—you know it, I know it. And perhaps I'm meant to be there when it arrives.
I'll arrive before term starts to organize my curriculum and living quarters. I assume you've already prepared a position for me? Knowing you, you started planning this years ago.
I must warn you though: I'm not the same eighteen-year-old who left Hogwarts. I've changed. Grown. The things I've seen, the magic I've studied—it's transformed my understanding of power and responsibility. I hope you're ready for that.
Until we meet again,
Anant
P.S. - I heard about the Philosopher's Stone. Really, Albus? You couldn't find a safer hiding place than a school full of curious children?
Dumbledore chuckled at that last part. Yes, Anant had changed—but his ability to see through complicated situations with frustrating clarity remained intact.
"He's coming back," he told Fawkes, who trilled happily. "After all these years, the Golden Hufflepuff returns."
Chapter End