Pilot
"Bombarda Maxima!" screech, a sharp screaming voice which pierced the ears of many, as the commanding voice was followed by a deafening explosion that shook the very foundations of Hogwarts.
Harry Potter was hurled backward, the force flinging him across the meticulously manicured lawn. The grass, emerald-green and perfectly clipped—a testament to the house-elves' tireless care—offered no reprieve as he skidded uncontrollably. His momentum only ceased when he collided with a dense, immaculately trimmed hedge.
The bristling branches dug into his back, sharp and unyielding, igniting a jolt of pain that radiated through his body. Harry groaned, his breath hitching as he pressed a hand to the sore spot, the ache in his muscles spreading like wildfire. Shaking off the daze, he gritted his teeth and fought to regain his footing, the world spinning slightly as he steadied himself against the unyielding hedge.
His body ached, each desperate gesture he made was sending waves of pain through his bruised and burned skin. Blood trickled from a gash above his brow, staining his chin. His head throbbed, dizzying him, and his vision swam in a fog of confusion. Why couldn’t he see clearly? The explosion had flung his glasses to who knows where.
He stretched out his hand, blindly groping the ground, his fingers brushing against the rough earth as he searched. Finally, he felt them—his glasses—clutched between his fingertips. A relieved hum escaped him as he carefully pinched the frame and gently placed them on his nose.
His vision gradually cleared, but the first thing he noticed was the webbed crack running across the right lens. It was a small flaw, but in the chaos, it felt like a glaring reminder of the explosion.
The next thing that caught his eye was a thick cloud of gray smoke, billowing across the grounds of Hogwarts, choking the air. Students scattered in every direction, their frantic screams echoing in the distance.
Through the haze, two familiar figures rushed toward him. Relief flooded Harry’s chest. Hermione Granger, sharp and determined, stormed forward, her curls bouncing with each angry step. Even with his ears ringing, he could almost hear her furious scolding. Behind her, Ron Weasley followed the half-blood witch with cautious steps.
“Harry!” Hermione cried, her voice cutting through the chaos as she sprinted toward him. Behind her, Ron followed, his face etched with concern. But as Harry looked at him, something about his long time friend’s expression didn’t sit right. It wasn’t concern—it was guilt.
Amidst the thick smoke, the ringing explosion, and the distant screams, Harry’s mind couldn’t shake the troubling question: Why did Ron look so sheepish?
“Mmmphhh!” Harry tried to shout, but his mouth was glued shut, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth by the cursed spell. His frustration mounted as he desperately clawed at his lips, trying to pry them apart with his fingers.
Hermione reached him at last, her wand already raised.
“Finite Incantatem,” she incanted, and Harry immediately gasped as his mouth was freed. The air tasted sweet in his lungs as he took in deep breaths, the relief washing over him.
“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry said, exhaling heavily. His body still felt heavy and exhausted from the explosion, his muscles sore and sluggish.
Hermione’s brow furrowed with concern as her eyes scanned him, searching for answers. The intensity in her gaze was laced with worry, her voice trembling slightly as she asked, “Harry, what’s going on? What was that explosion?”
“It’s Draco,” Harry spat, his voice sharp with frustration. “She’s gone mad!” Without another word, he yanked his wand from the holster across his hip, his movements swift and deliberate.
The wand was a beautiful piece—14 inches of polished holly wood, slender at the tip and gradually thickening toward the hilt. The wood gleamed under the dim light, the runes etched along its length pulsing with ancient energy. These runes, carved with precision in the style of old Germanic ancestry, added a mystic aura to the wand’s already impressive form.
Harry’s fingers curled around the handle, which was sculpted to fit perfectly in his grip, as if it had been made for him alone. The core—a phoenix feather—was embedded inside, its power faintly pulsing, like the heartbeat of the creature that had once gifted its essence for this very purpose.
“Harry, what did you do?!” Hermione demanded, her face contorted into a scowl that could’ve rivaled Professor McGonagall’s on her worst day. It was a very motherly scowl, the kind that made Harry look back at all his activities to find anything he might consider mischievous in nature that deserves the tongue lashing in the future.
Professor McGonagall would be proud.
Harry, utterly bewildered, flailed his arms around like an elementary-aged boy being accused of a punk he hasn’t committed. “W-What makes you think I had anything to do with this?!” he stammered, eyes wide and wildly looking for an escape route.
The pairs’ gaze then shifted, as if it was a choreography, to another familiar figure in their group—one who had been suspiciously silent through the whole ordeal. Both Harry and Hermione’s eyes landed on Ron, who looked as though he was trying very hard to stare a hole into the young Weasley. Ron’s eyes darted everywhere except to the two of them, his guilty expression practically glowing.
Harry groaned in frustration, his patience rapidly fraying. Why was Ron looking like that? His poker face was as broken as an old broomstick, and Harry could feel his temper rising like a cauldron about to explode. If Ron didn’t cough up an explanation soon, Harry might start making his own conclusions about his best friend’s involvement in Draco’s not-so-subtle attack.
“Ron!” Hermione growled, arms crossed, and Ron immediately shot his hands up in defense, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
“W-Wait, let me explain—”
But Ron had no time to do so as a burst of magic frightened the three as they looked at the direction where it was coming from.
"Arrova Incendio!" A shriek pierced the air from within the gray cloud of smoke, followed by three flaming arrows streaking toward them.
"Look out!" Harry shouted, acting on instinct. He shoved Hermione toward Ron, and the quick-thinking Ron immediately wrapped his smooth arms around her, pulling her into a protective embrace. Without hesitation, Ron leapt out of harm's way, keeping Hermione safe in his arms.
Harry, however, wasn’t as fortunate.
He tried to leap backward, attempting to dodge the fiery projectiles, but one of the arrows clipped him on the arm. The impact sent a burst of searing heat which had charred his skin to black and his jersey sleeve was instantly reduced to nothing but a charred, black scrap.
Harry cried out in pain, the fire’s sting sharp against his skin. Before he could recover, the force of the attack sent him flying backward, spinning uncontrollably through the air. His body slammed into the dirt with a sickening thud, knocking the wind out of him.
“Harry!” Hermione and Ron cried in unison, their voices filled with fear as they rushed to his side.
The stinging pain from the arrow wound seared through Harry’s arm, but he forced his eyes to squint against the agony. Through the haze of smoke, he turned toward the source of the attack, where a dark silhouette began to materialize, emerging from the thick gray fog.
As the figure drew closer, Harry’s gaze sharpened, locking onto his attacker.
She was a striking figure. Her fair skin contrasted sharply with the black uniform and robes she wore, the edges lined with vibrant emerald green. Her sharp silver eyes pierced through the smoke, fixing on Harry with a look of deep, seething fury. Beneath the icy cold of her gaze, there was a boiling rage, raw and unrestrained.
Her face, usually beautiful, was twisted into a venomous scowl, making her features appear sharp and unforgiving. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back and front, but it was no longer the sleek, controlled locks Harry had seen before. Now, it was frizzed out, wild and untamed, resembling the mane of a lion ready to pounce.
Each step she took was deliberate, the heel of her black flats sinking into the soft grass as she stomped toward him with unrelenting purpose. The ground seemed to tremble beneath her, as if the very earth recognized the force of her presence.
"I hope you've made peace with God, Potter," Draconia Gwyneth Malfoy hissed, her voice dripping with uncontainable rage as she advanced toward the disoriented and wounded Harry. Her knuckles were white around her wand, which she held in a firm, unwavering grip. "Because—by Merlin—I’m sending you straight to Him!"
“What’s in Merlin’s beard are you doing, Draco!” Harry as he got himself into a crouch position.
“Don’t act gullible with me now, you slimy, no-good excuse for a man, you!” Draco aimed the end of her wand at Harry. “You think you can slither away from punishment— but oh no! I’ll make sure you get your well-deserved beating.”
“By Merlin, you sound like a mad woman,” Harry groans as his eyes look back towards Draco after inspecting his arm, his eyes widened as he rolled away from the incoming spell, Draco blasted at his direction .
“Confringo!” Harry yelped as another explosion erupted this time at the bushes, destroying every well trimmed and artistically designed shrub.
Dirt, grass shreds, and bits and pieces of stone statues rain down on Harry. Harry noticed the other students from different houses coming back after their initial shock to view the fight.
“Incendio!” Draco casted a wave of burning red flames towards Harry.
“Protego!” As Harry conjures up a shield to protect himself. The flames split into two and avoided Harry and burned the vegetation behind him.
Harry through the burning flames that almost engulf him. Noticed Hermonie pleading cries and also Ron’s barks but it was deafened by a group of Slytherin students crying profanities and hate at Harry and cheering on their fellow slytherinette.
“Burn the bastard!”
“Kill the perv!”
“You can do it Draco!”
“You four-eyed sleaze ball!”
Harry was down right gobsmacked, and Hermione mirrored his confusion. Hermonie was stiffened by that- those absurdifying accusations leveled at her best friend stunned her into silence, leaving her unsure how to react. Harry on the other hand was flabbergasted on being called a perv. The boy had been called many names in his life from “Scarhead” to “Potty”- courtesy from Draconia, that ferret!- but never in his life had he ever been called a perv!
“Gladius!” Harry shook off his confusion by Draco’s furious incantation to realize the flames were gone and now he was gazing on the tip of a very sharp sword. Harry dodged inches away from the tip of the sword.
With all his luck and speed, he was able to slip away from the sword’s tip but still received a graze on his cheek as he avoided the edge of the sharp steel. Harry hop back to safety. His fingers quickly flew to his cheek, gently touching the fresh cut which stained the abscess of his fingers.
With tight-lipped fury, his cold eyes fixated on his bloodstained fingers. His anger simmered so intensely that he clenched his jaw, straining to keep it from boiling over.
“What’s wrong, Potter,” Draco says with a lot of emphasis to the ‘P’ of his name. “Loss of words?”
Harry turned his view to Draco, his breath catching as he noticed the transformation in her weapon. Her wand had been replaced by a stunningly crafted rapier, its elegance underscored by an air of deadly precision. The blade gleamed like liquid silver, its slender form a testament to masterful craftsmanship.
The hilt featured a modified design, its traditional structure infused with an imaginative twist. Delicate, sinuous snakes coiled around each edge of the guard, their lithe bodies forming an intricate, almost hypnotic latticework. Their heads were poised at the edges, fangs bared as if ready to strike, their beady eyes catching the light with an almost lifelike glint. The grip was bound in fine, dark leather, its texture subtly reminiscent of scaled skin, offering both practicality and an eerie aesthetic.
A statement to the Slytherin’s beauty and menace.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Harry bellowed, feeling his heart miss a beat for a moment as Draco strutted her way towards him while she playfully twirls her sword with an arrogant beam on her face. A white toothy smile that either had Harry’s face redden by unease or anger.
With each step, Harry could feel the dense aura surrounding the Malfoy princess. It was heavy, enough to slowly suffocate the boy-who-lived. Harry's eyes noticed how green magic revolved around Slytherin's legs. The aura was powerful enough to make a small breeze around her, as tall grasses and her green plaid skirt wave with the energy.
But that is when Harry noticed something. Something that made him quietly turn red.
Through the pressuring aura and grey fogs of smoke, Harry's eyes couldn't help but wonder along Draco's smooth legs dressed in black long socks with a small glint of her fair skin on the upper portion of her bare thighs. But that is not what made him blush.
What made him turn crimson was the weird slimy green liquid in Draco's inner thighs.
"For someone called 'The Boy Who Lived,' you sure seem eager to meet the undertaker, don't you?" Draco says darkly, growling like a wolfhound while baring her fangs from how Harry noticed the change of pitch.
"How would you like to die Potter," Draco growls. Harry has never heard her growl! "Burn to a crisp or me ripping your heart out of your chest so I could show it to father!"
"Draconia calm down!"
"Don't call me that!" Draco boomed as she lunged herself to Harry with a thrust of her blade. The point of her sword sighted at the boy’s chest.
The teen boy rolled away from the attack, barely escaping the blade. As he sprang up, another strike slashed toward his throat—he jerked back just in time. Harry swallowed hard, fear tightening his chest. The blade had missed by mere inches. If he’d been any slower… he might’ve been staring at his own headless body from a whole new perspective.
Before Draco could once again lunge at Harry, a surge of magic suddenly yanked her into the air. Draco’s eyes widened in shock as she floated, helpless, above the ground.
Harry’s gaze flicked around quickly, his heart pounding. His breath caught as he saw a group of Gryffindor boys rushing to his side, their wands raised in unison. The weight in his chest lightened, and a wave of relief washed over him.
“Put me down this instant!” Draco’s voice was a shrill command, desperate and furious.
Harry shot her a flat, weary look, his body aching from the ordeal. He took a slow, measured step toward the floating girl, exhaustion making every movement feel heavier.
“Not until you calm down,” a voice called firmly. Harry glanced up to see a senior Gryffindor standing at the forefront of the group. He was one of the few students Harry remembered from around campus—Bill, wasn’t it?
Draco’s face twisted with rage as Bill spoke, “Your rivalry with Potter is no secret- but this? Destroying campus property, disturbing the peace, have you gone mad?” Bill’s tone was sharp, demanding answers.
Draco’s fury boiled over, and with a venomous sneer, she spat, “Why don’t you ask that filthy perv-pig yourself?” The words echoed across the courtyard, drawing curious glances from nearby Gryffindors and even a few other students. The attention only seemed to fuel Draco’s anger, her eyes burning with contempt.
Harry stood there, utterly bewildered, still trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him.
His gaze shifted to the growing crowd, each person adding to his confusion. Hermione’s motherly scowl was locked in place, while Ron stood next to her, awkwardly shuffling on his feet, looking like he’d just been caught in the middle of a bad joke. Harry’s eyes moved on, his focus landing on Draco, still floating in the air like some angry balloon, her face twisted into an expression of pure fury.
Then, something caught Harry’s attention. He squinted. Was that…? Yes. Draco had tears in the corners of her eyes. Not exactly the image of a fearsome enemy. Or the expression he usually sees from the Malfoy heiress. It was always the scowls, sneers, and mocking expression but never tears. This was uncanny to the ravenhead boy.
And terrifying as well.
“Me?” Harry blurted, eyes widening in shock. “What did I do?”
From the crowd, a Slytherin girl with a look of righteous indignation shouted, “Have you no shame?” Her voice trembled with dramatic flair, as if she were auditioning for a role in a Shakespearean tragedy. Her friends stood beside her, equally tear-streaked, nodding like they’d rehearsed this moment. “You’d rather lie instead of confessing your crime!”
“Yeah, you’re no hero! You’re a monster!” another girl piped up, her voice shaking with fake outrage. “A perverted monster!”
“You should be hanged!” one of them shouted dramatically, as if Harry had just committed the worst crime in Hogwarts history—like using Voldemort’s name so casually in a conversation.
Harry, now in full-on panic mode, frantically waved his hands in the air, hoping his frantic gestures would somehow explain his innocence. “W-Wait, wait, what are you talking about? I did nothing wrong! I-I don’t even know what I’m being accused of!”
Harry defended himself against the group of slytherin girls while a gleeful Marcus Flint strode to the scene with so much arrogance it could make a narcissist jealous.
“What you're being accused of, Potter,” Marcus Flint sneered with a twisted grin, “is putting floggerworm mucus in the knickers of the Slytherin girls.”
Harry froze, his mind racing to process the absurdity of it all. He turned toward the group of Slytherins, and his heart sank into his stomach. They were bent over, legs tightly crossed, their robes barely covering their discomfort. Some were shivering, while others—Harry couldn’t believe his eyes—were visibly wincing, their faces scrunched in varying levels of horror. And there it was. A slimy, disgusting fluid was trickling down their inner thighs, pooling beneath their skirts.
The situation could not have been worse. The air smelled faintly of... well, slime. And in the center of it all, Draco Malfoy, float, her usually immaculate appearance tarnished by the evidence of the prank—slime oozing between her legs, staining her black socks.
Harry’s brain turned into a bowl of over-stirred pudding—wobbly, useless, and thoroughly confused. His face flushed a deep shade of crimson as his eyes instinctively flicked away from the sight—right to Draco. He had a front-row seat to the most mortifying scene of his life.
But before he could even begin to stammer a denial, Marcus Flint cut him off. “No point in denying it, Potter. We’ve got all the proof right here.” He pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket with the flourish of a man holding a winning lottery ticket.
With dramatic flair, he unfolded it and vocalized its contents for the crowd. Harry's stomach turned. The paper was filled with mocking, taunting words aimed at the Slytherins. It referred to them as snakes, relished in the act of sneaking into their quarters, and detailed how he poured flobberworms mucus inside the drawers of the slytherin ladies, drenching their knickers with thick mucus and to top it off, the letter even had a personal jab at Draco, calling her a “ferret”—the exact slur Harry himself liked to use.
“Harry!” Hermione shouted from somewhere in the crowd, her voice rising with fury. “You—”
“Hold on!” Harry interrupted, desperation creeping into his voice. “It wasn’t me! I swear!” He scanned the crowd for an ally, but all he got was a sea of scowls and accusatory glares.
Marcus just smiled smugly. “You’re the only non-Slytherin who knows where the Slytherin quarters are, Potter. There’s no point in hiding it anymore. Accept the consequences of your actions.” His grin stretched wider as he took in the crowd's reactions.
“Pay for your sins!”
“Die in a ditch!” a Slytherin girl shouted from the back.
“He who-should-not-be-named should’ve killed you!” another yelled.
“Pervert!” a third screamed, as the whole group of Slytherin girls erupted in unison, their voices full of venom.
Harry stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, his mind swirling. What was happening? He had done nothing wrong. He had no idea what was going on, but standing there in the middle of it all, he felt like the world was crashing down on him.
Yes, Harry knows about the slytherin quarters but he would never do something like this! Such action was classless. But there was nobody else. Who would know the quarters like Harry? Who would also hold a grudge against the Slytherin. Who would do such a thi-
“RON!” Ron jumped in fright by Harry’s roar. The ginger boy turned slowly to his best friend with a quiver in his lips. His eyes made contact with Harry’s burning scowl and gritted teeth.
“Yes, Harry ole buddy of mine?” He says with shakiness in his voice.
“Was it you?” Harry accused.
“W-well, you see about that…” Harry watched as his friend tried his best to make himself look little from all the hard gazes directed at him. Harry would have felt sorry if it weren’t the fact that because of Ron’s action, he was being attacked by an angry mob of Slytherin girls. “Yes…”
Ron shamefully whispered, a mere breeze from his mouth but loud enough for the slytherin girls to cry curses at the ginger boy’s direction.
“Let me explain,” Ron stammered. “You see, it was supposed to be a bit of a laugh. You know, Draco and her buffoons were being obnoxious- more so, than what they usually are and I thought I had to put her in her place. So I grabbed a bottle of flobberworm mucus from Hagrid’s cottage and was just planning to pour a bit but I trip and fell and dropped the whole bottle in… hehehe,”
Harry could only give a look of bewilderment at his friend as the ginger boy rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "But why'd you decide to frame me, then?"
“In all honesty, you were the perfect candidate, mate,” Ron shrugged. “You’re the only one who hates Draco as much as me, so you were the perfect scapegoat and it worked.”
Harry would have blasted Ron off his feet with magic but Draco beat him to it. Ron was hurled off his feet by a blast of magic, soaring through the air and crashing into a marble pillar with a thud by the platinum-haired Slytherin who had broken free from the enchantment that had been holding her.
Harry was in shock to act and his hesitation proved costly. In the blink of an eye, Draco turned her fury on Bill. A sharp incantation escaped her lips, and the Gryffindor senior was violently slammed to the ground before being launched like a ragdoll across the field. His trajectory ended in a chaotic collision with an unsuspecting cluster of Gryffindor students, who were supposed to be the second defense, scattering them like bowling pins struck by a cannonball.
Harry flinches as Draco’s maniac gaze redirected itself towards him. Harry was able to incantated Protego, forming a magic shield to defend him from Draco’s explosive spell.
Harry fired his next move. Uttering Stupefy to stun the slytherin but before he could finished the incantation, Draco had performed a spell without uttering a single word and Ron’s body was flung off the side of the cracked pillar he was leaning on and slammed into Harry’s side and sent them flying towards the other downed gryffindor.
Harry rubbed his temples, trying to quell the pounding headache threatening to split his skull. His gaze drifted to Draco, only to be met with a sight that sent a shiver down his spine—a manic smile stretched across her face. The air grew colder as her soft chuckle swelled into a full-blown cackle, echoing with a sinister edge that made Harry's skin crawl.
"I’ve had it with a lot of you!" she shrieked, her banshee-like wail slicing through Harry’s ears. "You Gryffindors are nothing but a bunch of brutish, bumbling imbeciles!"
Draco raised her wand high above her head, the air crackling ominously as flashes of green light and sizzling currents danced at the tip like tiny bolts of doom.
Harry’s face was drained of color.
"I ought to rid the wizarding world of the lot of you," Draco snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "Turning you into corpses would be doing everyone a favor—"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The spell hit her mid-rant, and Draco froze on the spot with her wand over her head, stiff as a statue and eerily silent. The once-menacing glow fizzled out of her wand, snuffed like a poorly cast Lumos.
Harry blinked, dumbstruck. Slowly, cautiously, he got to his feet, brushing off dirt and a mix of fear and sweat. The frozen Draco loomed before him like an angry statue, her expression still locked in murderous determination.
Summoning what little courage he had left, Harry reached out a trembling finger. “Uh… Malfoy?” he whispered, giving her an experimental poke.
She didn’t budge. Not an inch.
“Well that’s enough of that,” Says a mature feminine voice. Harry turned his body to the voice to see a woman of dignified age, with a striking and commanding presence.
She has sharp, angular features, framed by dark, greying hair that she often wears in a tight bun. Her face is stern, with piercing, intelligent eyes behind square, thin-rimmed spectacles. Her gaze, intense, giving an impression that she can see straight through to any student’s heart.
Her expression of one of controlled authority, her posture, impeccable, standing tall and proud, exuding both confidence and grace.
She wore traditional robes, in shades of dark green or black, which add to her no-nonsense aura. The sharpness of her attire reflects her practicality and no-frills attitude.
“Professor McGonagall,” Harry let out a sigh of relief like the rest of the Gryffindor boys who decided to lay flat on the grassy ground. “There has never been a greater day to see you, Prof.”
As the boys calmed down in front of their initial fright. McGonagall still had a sharp look on her face and this time it was aimed directly at the young ravenet.
"I’m glad my presence brings you comfort and security, but don’t think for a moment you’ll escape punishment, young man." McGonagall said, which had him flinching.
The Gryffindor boys caught in the crossfire of Draco’s wrath wasted no time scattering the moment McGonagall arrived. Not wanting to risk punishment, some vanished into the crowd, while others fled toward the main campus. To the remaining Gryffindors, those who ran were the wise ones.
All except Harry.
Instead of making his escape, he stood there—catching his breath, regaining his thoughts—unaware he’d just made a grave mistake. Even Ron and Hermione fled the scene!
Harry wanted to hide or flee but it was too late. He was now the target of Professor McGonagall’s punishment. He was the only one there in the campus garden. Him and a frozen Draco.
Instead of yelling- instead of scolding the orphan boy, McGonagall let out a deep sigh that carried a lot of burdens. Her sharp eyes turned to tired ones as he looked at Harry. With a flick of her wrist, she casted a spell that had the Malfoy heiress frozen-form lifting off the ground and hovering beside the headmistress.
"Come along, Potter. You and Miss Malfoy’s punishment awaits inside Hogwarts," the professor said, ambling out of the garden, fully expecting the baffled Gryffindor to follow.
Harry Potter stood frozen for a moment, watching the headmistress of Hogwarts walk away, his longtime rival floating beside her— the same rival who, not even thirty minutes ago, had tried to incinerate him out of existence.
The boy groaned as he dragged his feet after the headmistress. Not only was he missing an entire day of Quidditch practice, but his jersey had been blasted to nothing but char.
“I didn’t even do anything.” Harry whines as the boy leave the ruined garden of Hogwarts for the goblins to clean.
END
***
This is a story project I was working on in my free time, I hope you guys like it. Some of you might not like what I did like gender-bending Draco Malfoy but it felt right to me if Draco Malfoy was a girl instead of a dude and it's my fanfiction so I’m allowed to do what I want. I wrote this story because I had an itch in writing Harry Potter because to be honest, I’m not a big fan of the franchise but I LOVE the concept of whole secret wizard society and wizard school stuff. It’s cool but it felt like it was lacking some stuff and it turns out J.K. Rowling is not a big fantasy lover. So I decided to write my own version of this story.
I don’t know about my skills as a writer but I do like to try out writing Harry Potter fanfiction since I could see a lot of potential. This story won’t be like my usual stuff, like a harem story.
I want to rewrite the entire Harry Potter into a young adult High fantasy but I know its going to be long and strenuous but I want to do it. And I hope y'all support me.
And if you do, this are my plans or goals if I decided to make my own Harry Potter version.
Goals;
If I write this this is the expected issues I want to improve in this fanfiction
Magic System: In my reimagined Harry Potter. Its magic system is intrinsically tied to Mana, a mystical energy that flows within every witch and wizard. Mana defies conventional laws of physics, bending reality itself while also requiring a deeper understanding of its nature to wield effectively. Every spell, curse, and hex is fueled by this energy, making it the foundation of all magical abilities.
Despite its widespread use, the true origins of Mana remain a mystery. Some scholars theorize that it is a biological phenomenon unique to magical beings, while others believe it stems from a higher power or an extradimensional source. Regardless of its origins, all wizards instinctively harness this energy, though the extent of their control varies.
The depletion of Mana has serious consequences. Overexertion can lead to symptoms such as severe headaches, nosebleeds, and extreme fatigue, with excessive use even resulting in a coma. Despite centuries of study, the full potential of Mana remains largely uncharted, with new discoveries continuing to push the boundaries of what magic can achieve.
Worldbuilding: I want to improve the Wizarding World’s worldbuilding since J.K. Rowling left out a lot of things that fans are theorising. Like apparently trolls, wendigos, goblins, and thunderbirds exist and yet we do not know where they come from and how they can affect the people. Why are the wizards and witches hunted when they had the better fire power with magic, and what cultures and religions exist with the wizards and witches around the globe.
Improved Politics: I remember watching the film and the whole politics was relating to an aristocratic-authoritarian or something like that and it felt dull. I want a crack in this as well because I like to see how Voldemort manages to influence the Ministry instead of just forcing his way in.
Hogwart houses: So you know each of the houses- Gryffindor; Bravery, Hufflepuff; Loyalty, Ravenclaw; Wit, and Slytherin; Ambition. I like to add more to it, like unique abilities, philosophies, skills, goals, and purpose. Like Hufflepuff and Gryffindor houses value courage and fairness that is why they are more accepting to wizards and witches of half-blood or muggleborns descent while Ravenclaw cares more about intelligence so there are more guarded against those who has no background in magic like muggleborns. While Slytherin cares more about power and purity and that is why they do not accept muggle-borns, and sometimes half-bloods, and rather have pure-bloods and those in higher rank in the wizarding world. Those are said to be gifted in the arcane arts.
Better lessons in the Defense of Dark Arts
Spellcaster Combat Forms: I just want to add this to show differences or something. Also improve the class in the Defense of the Dark Arts. This is mostly based on the Star Wars lightsaber forms like Shii-Cho or Serosu. I like to see a wizard version of said styles. Like how they cast their magic, what are their styles. Do all wizards move the same or are they diverse? It’s a concept I like to include in the Harry Potter fanfiction. I have like two already come up in my head; The Slinger and the Fencer but a different name. The Slinger form; is based on a wizard from the mid-19th century in the United States of America, A wizard who was also a U.S. Marshal to capture rogue wizards and witches. Fast-draw, rapid-fire spellcasting with a single wand, akin to gunslingers in the Wild West. Slingers trained in this form often utilize quick, reflex-based spellwork and short, efficient incantations while the Fencer Form is more Fluid and graceful. The Fencer form is created in the early renaissance where several wizards and witches who were skilled in the sword and compete in duels were later gifted with magic and transferred their knowledge in the blade to the wand, to create a dynamic and fluid combat method in spellcasting. They adapted their knowledge of fencing footwork, precision strikes, and counterattacks into wand combat. Stuff like that.
Quidditch improvement and School Safety; They got an effing troll inside the school, a student died before, and there are no safety measures in a game of Quidditch for students junior or seniors.
Magic duels: To show the Spellcaster Combat Forms
Hermonie in Ravenclaw: I have no problems with Hermione in Gryffindor but to make my story unique I’m putting her in Ravenclaw. Harry Potter and Ron will still stay in Gryffindor though but who to say they can’t be friends. They are still classmates but I’ll leave this decision for you guys to choose.
Female Draco: My preference and you are not changing my mind on this.
Better sub plot: I forgot what I mean about this. Maybe I was talking about the whole Severus Snape, Harry’s dad was a bully, what happened during the Voldemort attack. Or something else, but I like to also connect it to Grindelwald. You guys can help me with this as well.
Better Voldemort villain: This dude couldn’t even beat a child, Jack Sparrow had more menace in him in the Fantasy Beast franchise than the person that supposed to be Wizard Adolf
And that is about it. So I hope you all enjoyed the short story of what is to come if I decided to write my own version of the Harry Potter Franchise and if I did, I will try my best to stay close to the canon while adding my own stuff in it. Starting from the Sorcerer's stone. I’ll be changing some titles as well, like my first story is based on Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s stone. My reimagine will be titled Harry Potter and the Wizarding World.
And if i’m doing that, I’ll read the Harry Potter book to keep it close to the main story and not drift off too far.
So I hope you all enjoy it. My stories can be read in now both Fanfiction.net and Archives of Our Own (Ao3) just look for my name; DigitalPulpwriter because I changed it from the CinematicScribe. And I again, I appreciate y’all for reading my work and I hope you all have a great day.
FUCK YOU PAUL!