Harry Potter: Toji Potter

The droning voice of Professor Binns echoed faintly across the room, the monotony of History of Magic lulling nearly every student into a half-sleep. Most were resting their heads on their desks, quills idly scribbling down nothing of importance. The classroom was dim, illuminated only by the faint sunlight filtering through the enchanted windows. It was the perfect atmosphere to reflect, and Toji—known to the world as Harry Potter—found himself staring absently at the ceiling.

For the past few days, a strange thought had been gnawing at him. Was he really Toji Fushiguro, the brutal assassin he remembered from his past life? Or was he Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived? It wasn't the type of question he usually pondered. Self-reflection wasn't his style. He was a man of action, someone who took life by the reins and bent it to his will. But today, in the dull haze of Binns' lecture, the question sat in his mind.

Was he Toji or Harry?

He thought back to his former life as Toji Fushiguro—the ruthless killer, the man who lived by the blade, constantly hunting, constantly fighting for survival in a cruel world. It had been a life of bloodshed, a life where power and cunning were all that mattered. And yet, somehow, that life had ended. He had fallen, died in battle, and now... now he was Harry Potter.

But Harry's life wasn't much better. The wizarding world seemed to have its own ridiculous problems. Dark Lords, secret chambers, ancient bloodlines—it was a different kind of battlefield, but a battlefield nonetheless. And here he was, standing in the center of it all, wearing the face of the Boy Who Lived.

Is there really a difference?

After what felt like hours of mental gymnastics—though it had probably only been ten minutes—he exhaled quietly. It didn't really matter, did it? Whether he was Toji or Harry was irrelevant. He was, and that was enough. No more pointless self-introspection. He was just... him. Toji or Harry, it didn't matter. Both identities fused into the person he had become now—a force of nature that would bend the world to his will.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. Yeah, I'll never have such a stupid, long thinking session again. Not my style.

With that resolved, he let his thoughts drift to more amusing matters. Over the past few days, he'd been hearing something strange—a serpentine voice, hissing in a language only he seemed to understand. It spoke of murder, of blood, of hunting its prey. While most people might've been terrified, Toji found it… funny. Amusing, even. How bad does Hogwarts' security have to be if no one else hears this creepy hissing? Wizards, for all their magic, were often incredibly dense.

As the lesson droned on and the students around him snored softly, his mind wandered to more practical matters. He had plans, big ones—training with the national Quidditch team, improving his spellwork, and maybe, just maybe, hunting down some legendary artifacts. That resurrection stone was still out there somewhere, after all.

Halloween came quickly, and the castle was buzzing with excitement. The Great Hall was filled with pumpkins the size of boulders, bats fluttered through the air, and the enchanted ceiling mimicked a starry night sky. Students were in high spirits, laughing and chatting as they feasted on the extravagant meal set before them. Toji, Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey sat together, enjoying the festive mood. The food was good, and for once, the worries of the magical world seemed far away.

But all of that changed when dinner ended, and they headed toward the dorms. The cheerful atmosphere vanished as soon as they reached the corridor leading to the dormitories. The floor was flooded with water, thick and reddish in color. It didn't take long for the curious students to gather, staring in horror at the ominous sight before them.

There, on the wall, written in what looked like blood, was a message that sent chills down everyone's spine:

"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE."

Screams erupted from the crowd of students, a wave of panic rippling through the corridor. Toji stood among them, staring at the message with a mixture of annoyance and mild amusement. How dramatic, he thought, rolling his eyes.

Of course, it didn't take long for Draco Malfoy to take the opportunity to open his big mouth. The blond Slytherin sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice as he yelled out:

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Before he could continue his tirade, both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape appeared, glaring daggers at the young Malfoy. McGonagall's eyes were filled with righteous fury as she swiftly smacked Draco on the back of the head, while Snape gave him a cold, withering look.

"Silence, Mr. Malfoy," Snape hissed, his voice as sharp as a blade.

Malfoy, for once, wisely shut his mouth.

Back in the Slytherin dormitory, Toji packed his things in preparation for something far more exciting. The next day, he would be heading out for a few training sessions with the England National Quidditch team. The letter had arrived just in time for Halloween, and Toji couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. The fame and recognition were useful tools, and he intended to wield them to his advantage.

As he zipped up his bag, he heard a knock on the door.

It was Professor McGonagall, looking slightly out of place in the Slytherin dorm. She cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter," she began, her tone professional but warm, "I understand you'll be leaving for your Quidditch training tomorrow."

Toji nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, what about it?"

McGonagall's eyes twinkled slightly. "I've decided to accompany you. I think it would be good to keep an eye on your progress. Besides," she added, almost sheepishly, "I'm a bit of a Quidditch enthusiast myself."

Toji smirked. He hadn't expected that. "Fair enough. I could use the company."

Snape, who had been standing just behind McGonagall, added in his usual cold tone, "I have no intention of leaving my potions class without a competent instructor, so Professor McGonagall will suffice. Dumbledore himself can cover for her while she's gone."

"Understood," Toji said with a slight nod. It was a solid plan, and Toji had no objections to it.

As McGonagall left, Toji lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would bring a new challenge, a new chance to prove himself. He couldn't wait to step onto that Quidditch pitch and show the world what he was truly capable of.

But for now, as the flickering lights of the dormitory cast long shadows across the room, his thoughts drifted back to that serpentine voice. The Chamber of Secrets, huh? It looked like this year was going to get interesting, after all.

With a final grin, Toji closed his eyes, ready for whatever came next.