Harry Potter: Toji Potter

Toji sat cross-legged on the stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets, the air thick with a chill that only old, forgotten places seemed to possess. His eyes were closed, and his thoughts were fully focused on one singular objective—honing his Parseltongue. The serpentine language, which had already proven useful in accessing Slytherin's Chamber, had immense potential, and Toji wanted to see just how much he could extract from it.

His tongue twisted around the guttural sounds as he practiced aloud.

"Slithering flame, rise," he hissed, his words carrying a strange power in the ancient language. A thin column of blue fire erupted in front of him, and Toji's lips curled into a slight smirk.

"Serpenscalor," he whispered, a heated warmth radiating from slightly above his hand and enveloping the room as the temperature began to rise.

Using spells in Parseltongue seemed to amplify their effects, giving Toji a unique and potent edge that most wizards could only dream of. He was certain that Salazar Slytherin himself had designed some spells specifically for use in parseltongue. It wasn't simply about incantations—it was a practice of willpower and intent, with magic responding differently to the ancient language. It was raw, powerful, and uniquely his.

Toji could feel the energy humming within him as he cast spells, the power resonating with something ancient and dark. He had yet to uncover all the books he had taken from the hidden chamber, but one thing was clear: Parseltongue was more than just a language—it was a tool, a weapon that had untapped potential.

Parallel to his newfound magical endeavors, Toji had also decided it was time to build his public image. He began backing initiatives that promoted justice and equality within the Wizarding World. He ensured that certain causes were brought to the forefront—donations to St. Mungo's for better healthcare access, promoting scholarships for underprivileged magical children to attend Hogwarts, and even supporting causes for the rights of magical creatures like house-elves. He'd taken a particular liking to the latter, aware of just how much leverage the elves could provide in the future if they were treated well.

Dumbledore seemed intrigued by his sudden advocacy. Some of the professors spoke about it among themselves—was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, destined to become an even more influential symbol of hope and fairness? If only they knew that Toji was playing the long game—a game where influence and loyalty were often much more potent weapons than magic.

"Stylish Wizard of the Year!"

The event itself was a spectacle of glamour and flare, with witches and wizards from all corners of the Wizarding World attending to see who would claim the title of the most stylish individual for the year. The venue was lavishly decorated, complete with floating chandeliers and fabric woven from shimmering threads of magical cloth.

Toji had made sure to go all out, drawing inspiration from both Muggle and magical fashion. He wore an outfit with distinct, layered robes that had a similar cut and silhouette to Qin Shi Huang from Record of Ragnarok—a regal yet commanding attire that combined intricate black and dark green silk brocade with gold accents. Flowing sleeves and draped layers cascaded down his arms, and he wore it with an air of nonchalance that only accentuated his natural charisma.

He had incorporated certain elements of Byakuya Kuchiki's style from Bleach—the way the robe was bound at the waist, giving it a fitted and sharp look, and even a silver neckpiece resembling a kenseikan as an ornamental touch that made the outfit feel otherworldly.

As he entered the event, the eyes of attendees followed him, and whispers spread throughout the crowd. Toji had deliberately dressed in something reminiscent of a conqueror, a ruler—but with a casual twist that spoke of his youth and modern sensibilities. He radiated confidence without arrogance, power without the need to flaunt it.

By the end of the night, when the votes were tallied, it was no surprise that Toji was named Stylish Wizard of the Year. The crowd erupted in cheers, and the flashes of cameras filled the room as Toji stepped forward to accept his award. He flashed a charming smile, waving with his left hand while his right hand rested casually in his robe's pocket.

The second Quidditch World Cup match of the english team approached quickly, and this time England faced off against the Bulgarian team. The game was fiercely competitive—Bulgaria's Seeker, Viktor Krum, was formidable, his skills recognized worldwide. Toji, however, was undeterred.

He knew from the start that Krum was aggressive, a Seeker who relied on flashy aerial maneuvers and high-risk moves to catch the Snitch. Toji decided to use that aggression against him. He didn't even bother to ride his broom as expected—he often hung off it, crouching low, his body streamlined against the wind, relying on his raw speed and strength. He baited Krum into dangerous dives, swerving just in time to avoid Bludgers while forcing Krum to break off pursuit to avoid collisions.

It was a mental game as much as it was a physical one. Toji anticipated every move, using feints to make Krum commit, only to pull away at the last second. The crowd was astonished as the commentators marveled at Toji's unique and almost reckless approach.

In a sudden burst of speed, Toji caught sight of the Snitch and tore after it. Krum, not far behind, tried to match him, but Toji had timed it perfectly—he cut across the pitch, forcing Krum to swerve again. With an effortless reach, Toji closed his hand around the Snitch, trapping it in his grasp.

"AND ENGLAND WINS AGAIN!" the commentator roared. "HARRY POTTER, THE YOUNGEST SEEKER, HAS ONCE AGAIN PROVEN HIS TALENT!"

The stadium erupted in applause. Toji had done it again, and his reputation as the best and youngest Seeker in the world grew with each match.

 The Winter Break was in full swing, bringing a sense of calm and festivity that enveloped Hogwarts. Snow blanketed the castle grounds, and the Great Hall was adorned with wreaths and enchanted snowflakes drifting down from the ceiling. Toji had planned something special—something to charm three very important girls in his life.

On Christmas Eve, Toji found himself sitting comfortably in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione. The fire crackled, filling the room with warmth as the four of them shared hot cocoa and exchanged gifts. Toji had chosen his gifts carefully: a rare potion book for Daphne, an elegant silver bracelet enchanted to play soothing music for Tracey, and a beautiful quill set for Hermione, each with custom charms to write smoothly on any surface.

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she looked at her gift, her cheeks turning pink as she smiled at him. Daphne's expression softened, and Tracey laughed, her gaze lingering on Toji as she thanked him. The mood was perfect.

Toji leaned forward, his voice lowering as he spoke, his tone warm, "I have to say, Christmas wouldn't have been nearly as interesting without the three of you here."

Hermione blushed, her eyes meeting his, and Daphne looked away, a smile tugging at her lips. Tracey, however, smirked and leaned closer.

"Are you trying to charm us, Harry?" she teased.

Toji shrugged, a grin playing on his lips. "Maybe. Is it working?"

Tracey's gaze flickered between Daphne and Hermione, and then she nodded. "I think it might be."

Slowly, he moved closer to each of them, leaning in as he gently kissed them—Hermione first, her lips soft against his, then Daphne, who closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt into the moment, and finally Tracey, who smiled against his lips.

For a moment, everything was perfect—warmth, closeness, and the thrill of having pulled it off. The three girls were smiling, their cheeks flushed, and Toji couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

Christmas was, indeed, magical.

And with the World Cup continuing, his name was on the rise, his influence growing, and his charm working on all fronts, Harry Potter was becoming an unstoppable force.

He had plans—grand plans—and so far, everything was falling into place.