The real Herry Potter

After his new friends had left and the excitement of their discovery had subsided, Harry made his way up to the seventh floor. The corridors were quiet, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight casting shadows on the ancient stone walls. He moved with purpose, his mind focused on reaching the room he had secretly claimed for himself—his personal sanctuary.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of the castle, this room was even more hidden than the one they had found together earlier that day. He had discovered it on the second day of his arrival at Hogwarts, while exploring the less-traveled parts of the school. From the outside, it appeared as nothing more than an empty, dusty corridor, abandoned and unremarkable. But to Harry, it had become something far more valuable.

He stopped in front of what seemed like a blank stretch of wall. With a quick flick of his wand and a murmured incantation, the room shimmered into existence. The door materialized, glowing faintly with the layers of wards and illusions Harry had placed upon it. These protections were ancient and powerful, far beyond the average Hogwarts magic. Harry had used every bit of magical knowledge he had gleaned from the Runestone Castle to secure this space, ensuring that no one—student or professor—would ever stumble upon it.

Inside, the room had once been a classroom of some kind, though Harry couldn't tell what it had originally been used for. When he first discovered it, it had been filthy, with cobwebs draping from the ceiling and dust so thick on the floor that his footsteps left visible prints. But cleaning had always been Harry's strength—one of the first spells he had mastered at the Runestone Castle. He had spent hours scrubbing the place from top to bottom, using charms and magic to restore the room to a clean, functional state.

Now, the space gleamed. The stone floors were polished, and the few pieces of furniture—an old desk and some wooden shelves—had been repaired and restored. Harry had brought in his own supplies, carefully stashing them away in enchanted drawers and hidden compartments. This room, unlike the one he shared with his new friends, was meant for his personal use only. Here, he would work on the secret projects he had in mind, projects that would push his magical abilities even further.

He moved to one of the shelves and pulled down a book he had found in the Runestone Castle, flipping through the pages until he found the section on advanced potion brewing. One of his long-term plans was to master brewing complex potions that even advanced students struggled with. But that was just the beginning. He had grander ideas—like building his own broomsticks to professional level. Not just any broomstick, but one designed with precision and care, a broom that would be faster and more agile than anything currently available.

Harry glanced around the room, feeling a sense of satisfaction. The wards and enchantments he had placed around the space made it invisible to others, even professors. Only he could access it, and he had no intention of sharing this secret. It wasn't that he didn't trust his friends—it was more that this room represented something deeply personal to him. It was a space where he could hone his skills in private, where he could experiment and learn without the prying eyes of others.

He stood in the center of the room and took a deep breath. There was still much to be done, and many spells and protections he wanted to add. But for now, it was enough. He had carved out a small corner of Hogwarts for himself, and in this room, he would pursue his magical ambitions, away from the eyes of his fellow students and professors.

As Harry settled comfortably in his hidden room, he glanced around with satisfaction. The room, clean and sparkling with magical energy, was ready for his next plan. He had thought about it long and hard, and now was the perfect time to put it into action. Without further hesitation, he called out softly, "Norky!"

There was a soft pop, and Norky, his ever-loyal house-elf, appeared in the room, standing proudly in his neatly pressed tuxedo, polished shoes, and tall cap. His wide, bright eyes glowed with eagerness as he looked up at Harry.

"Master Harry, Norky is here!" the house-elf said in his squeaky, respectful voice.

Harry smiled at his ever-faithful servant. "Norky, I need you to do something for me," Harry said, his tone calm but commanding. "I want you to bring me all the wands from the Wand Room at Runestone Castle."

Norky blinked rapidly, but his enthusiasm didn't waver. "All the wands, Master? There are more than forty wands in that room."

Harry nodded. "Yes, and make sure to remember where each one came from. Once we're done here, we'll need to return them to their proper places. Understood?"

"Of course, Master Harry! Norky will not forget!" And with another pop, the house-elf disappeared.

Harry stood for a moment, letting his mind wander to the task at hand. The wands at Runestone Castle were legendary—each one unique, each with its own story. His connections to the magical world was something he preferred to keep secret for now, even from his closest friends. But there were times when he had to trust someone. Today, that someone was Neville.

Harry found Neville later that day in the Gryffindor common room, buzzing with excitement. As the newly appointed president of their secret club, Neville was already brainstorming names for it."

Harry, I've been thinking, maybe we could call it the 'Defenders of Hogwarts' or something like that? Or maybe the 'Secret Society of Explorers'? Oh, and what about—""

Neville," Harry interrupted, smiling at his friend's enthusiasm. "That's great, but I need to show you something. Come with me."

Neville stopped mid-sentence, surprised by Harry's serious tone. He followed Harry through the winding corridors of Hogwarts until they reached a rarely visited, abandoned part of the castle. After checking to make sure no one was around, Harry led Neville into a dusty room and shut the door behind them, sealing it with a locking charm.

"Why all the secrecy, Harry?" Neville asked curiously, looking around the room. "What's this about?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood in front of Neville and, with a call, summoned Norky. With a soft pop, the house-elf appeared once more, carrying a large chest overflowing with wands—more than forty of them, each different from the next.

Neville's eyes widened in shock. "Harry, where did you get so many wands?!" he asked, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Harry gave him a sly grin. "That's a secret, Neville. Let's just say I have access to them, but I trust you enough to show you this. I'm even going to let you choose one for yourself."

Neville gaped at Harry, speechless for a moment. "You're letting me keep one of these?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but you can't tell anyone about this, alright? No one can know where these came from or that I have them."

Neville swallowed hard and nodded. "I won't tell anyone, Harry. I promise."

With that, Neville eagerly approached the pile of wands. He started picking up each wand, one by one, testing them by casting the simplest spell he knew—a levitation charm. He waved the first wand over a small stone that lay on the floor, but nothing happened. He moved on to the second, and then the third, but the results were the same.

"It's like when I got my first wand," Neville muttered under his breath. "Nothing's working."

Harry watched patiently as Neville worked through each wand. Some of the wands responded slightly, causing the stone to wobble or shift, but none of them felt right. After what seemed like an eternity, Neville picked up the fourteenth wand. He gave it a cautious wave, casting the levitation charm again, but this time, something was different.

The stone rose gracefully into the air, floating perfectly still, much to Neville's astonishment. His eyes widened, and he looked at Harry with excitement. "Harry! This one! It's working!"

Harry grinned, pleased that Neville had found a wand that suited him. "It looks like that one's yours, then."

Neville held the wand with both hands, staring at it in awe. "I don't know what it's made of or what the core is, but it feels... right."

As Neville marveled at his new wand, Norky popped back into the room. Neville's eyes widened in shock when he saw the house-elf, dressed in formal attire, standing obediently beside Harry."You have a house-elf, Harry?"

Neville asked, his voice filled with amazement. "And he's... wearing a tuxedo?"

Harry chuckled. "Yes, I do. Norky's one of my house-elves. I actually have two, but Norky's the one who helps me the most. He likes dressing up."

Neville couldn't help but stare at Norky, who stood proudly in his immaculate outfit. "I've never seen a house-elf dressed like that before," Neville said quietly. "My family's house-elves wear old rags. I never really thought about it before, but..."

Harry noticed the thoughtful look on Neville's face. "What is it, Neville?"

Neville hesitated before answering. "I just... I never really thought much about house-elves. They're always there, at Longbottom Manor, doing their work, but I never paid much attention to them. I don't even know where they sleep or if they're comfortable. Seeing Norky like this... it makes me wonder if my family's house-elves are happy. Maybe I should do something for them, you know? Like give them proper clothes or a bed or something."

Harry smiled at Neville's newfound empathy. "That's a good idea, Neville. House-elves deserve to be treated well. Norky's happy because I make sure he's comfortable. He's part of my family, not just a servant."

Neville nodded, deep in thought. "I think I'll talk to Gran about it when I go home for the holidays. Maybe we can do something to make life better for our house-elves."

Harry patted Neville on the shoulder, appreciating his friend's kind heart. "I'm sure they'll appreciate that."

With that, Harry turned to Norky. "Norky, take the rest of the wands back to where they belong," he instructed.

Norky bowed deeply. "As you wish, Master Harry," he said before disappearing with a soft pop, the remaining wands vanishing with him.

Neville let out a long breath, still holding the wand he had chosen. "Thanks, Harry. I don't know how to repay you for this."

Harry shook his head. "You don't need to repay me, Neville. We're friends, and I trust you. Just keep this between us, alright?"

"Of course," Neville said, clutching the wand tightly. "I won't say a word."

As they left the room together, Neville still in awe of everything that had happened, Harry felt a sense of satisfaction. He had given Neville something valuable—both the wand and a new perspective. It was a good day, but Harry knew that there were many more secrets to be discovered, and this was only the beginning.

Despite everyone eagerly awaiting the next club meeting, Harry's mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with a mystery that had consumed his thoughts for weeks. He was on the hunt for Godric Gryffindor's Vault, a legendary chamber mentioned numerous times in Eldritch Gosling's journal. The journal itself was an ancient, weathered book Harry had discovered in one of the many secret rooms within Runestone Castle during his own exploration. And according to Gosling's writings, the vault was something extraordinary.

Harry leaned back in his hidden room, rereading a particularly intriguing passage from the journal by the faint light of his wand.

"All the founders contributed their legacy to Hogwarts," Harry whispered, echoing Gosling's words. "Helga Hufflepuff created the healing rooms, what is now the infirmary. Rowena Ravenclaw, the library, the center of all knowledge and wisdom. Salazar Slytherin, a secret chamber armed with a terrible weapon meant to protect the school from Muggle attacks." He frowned at the thought of Slytherin's dark legacy but continued. "And Godric Gryffindor... built a vault."

According to Eldritch Gosling's detailed account, Gryffindor's Vault was unlike anything the other founders had created. It was said to have the ability to transform itself into any environment, any terrain, allowing those who found it to train in realistic and dangerous settings. Harry could almost picture it—vast landscapes of snow-covered mountains, scorching deserts, dense forests, and treacherous swamps, all within the confines of the vault. Gosling had described it as a place where Gryffindors could hone their skills in combat, preparing themselves for the real world by immersing themselves in ever-changing scenarios.

But where could it be? Hogwarts was vast, and Harry had already spent countless hours searching for clues, cross-referencing maps and texts. Yet, despite all his efforts, the vault remained hidden from him.

Harry put the journal aside, his brow furrowed in concentration. He had to find it. The idea of a room that could change into anything, that could provide real combat experience, was too tempting to ignore. It wasn't just about finding a secret treasure—it was about unlocking something that could be vital for the future of their club. He could already imagine the club members training in different terrains, facing magical creatures, and mastering defensive and offensive spells in a place that could adapt to their every need.

The thought of what the room could offer fueled his determination. But the journal was maddeningly vague about the exact location. All it said was that it was hidden "somewhere within the heart of the castle," a cryptic clue that led him to believe the vault was in one of the more secret and ancient parts of Hogwarts.

Harry stood, pacing the length of his hidden room. The seventh floor had yielded many secrets—his own hidden room was proof of that. But the vault could be anywhere. If Helga Hufflepuff's creation was the infirmary and easily accessible to all, Rowena's library was grand and central to Hogwarts, and Salazar's Chamber was tucked away in the depths of the dungeons, then Gryffindor's creation had to be equally significant, yet more elusive.

"Heart of the castle," Harry muttered under his breath, staring at the enchanted map of Hogwarts spread out in front of him. He traced his finger along the winding corridors and hidden pathways. "What does that mean?"

He thought of the places that were considered the "heart" of Hogwarts: the Great Hall, the central staircase. But none of those seemed right. Gryffindor's Vault, as described by Gosling, was meant to be hidden, its location a secret passed down from generation to generation, with only a select few ever discovering its whereabouts.