Chapter 3: [Legacy of the Library & Acceptance letter.]

Within the ancient stone walls of Peverell Manor lies a library that defies imagination. Its grandeur rivals even the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, and its secrets are whispered across generations. Here, knowledge transcends time, and the very air hums with the resonance of forgotten spells and untold stories.

The library stretches across multiple levels, its shelves disappearing into the shadows above. Sunlight filters through stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished oak floors.

Bookcases line the walls, each one cradling volumes that have witnessed centuries. Dust dances in the sunbeams, and the scent of ancient parchment hangs in the air.

Whisk, the wizened house elf, claims that this repository houses books from every corner of the world. Subjects span the mundane to the mystical: herbology, alchemy, magical creatures, and forbidden arts.

Original texts, penned by sorcerers and scholars long gone, rest alongside meticulously translated versions. The whispers of forgotten languages echo between the pages.

A secluded corner where sentient books share their stories—some friendly, others mischievous.

Certain sections remain elusive, accessible only to the true Lord Peverell. Whisk insists that the library gauges the worthiness of its seekers.

As the newly anointed Lord Peverell, you stand at the precipice. The library beckons, promising answers and perils alike.

Without the Lord's ring—the ancient heirloom lost to time—you hesitate. What curses lie dormant? What truths await your discovery?.

It's been about two weeks since I've been here. I'm currently in the library, poring over the Defense Against the Dark Arts books.

Suddenly, with a soft 'pop', Whisk materializes before me, holding a letter in his hand. I have a hunch about who sent it. "My Lord, a letter for you," Whisk announces.

"Alright, hand it over," I command and take the letter from him. It bears a familiar wax seal and the Manor's address. This is exactly what I wanted because Whisk had mentioned that the Manor's wards prevent even the Book of Admittance and Quill of Acceptance at Hogwarts from sensing any magic. That's why I had instructed Whisk to alter the wards so that my name would appear in the Book of Admittance.

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I glanced at the letter in my hands, the script on the envelope as familiar as my own reflection. It read:

**Mr. H. Peverell,

The Master Bedroom on the Third Floor,

Peverell Manor,

Peverell Private Island, Scotland**

———

With trembling hands, I broke the seal and drew out a thick parchment, beginning to read the letter:

"Dear Mr. Peverell,

A thrill of anticipation ran through me as I read about my acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed was a list of all the books and equipment I would need.

The term was set to start on the 1st of September, and they expected my owl by the 31st of July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress"

The words on the page made it real—I could go back to Hogwarts. But this time, I would be returning not as a Potter, but as a Peverell, cloaked in a new legacy.

———

Then I picked up the quill and began writing an acceptance letter to Professor McGonagall, stating that I accept and will attend Hogwarts, and requested that only the train ticket be sent.

Then I turned to Whisk and asked, "Whisk, do you know where Hogwarts is?"

"I do, my Lord," Whisk replied.

"Give this letter to Professor McGonagall and get the Hogwarts Express ticket," I instructed.

"Okay, my Lord," said Whisk, and with that, he materialized and disappeared.

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The year at Hogwarts was bustling as ever. Minerva McGonagall, in her role as the Deputy Headmistress, was overwhelmed with an array of tasks. She had numerous acceptance letters to send to various children, along with the responsibility to visit them.

"Bloody hell," she lamented, "all this seems to be my sole burden to bear." Albus 'Too-many-names' Dumbledore and the other professors invariably found some pretext to decline assisting her.

In the quiet of her office, Minerva McGonagall was startled by a soft 'pop'. A house-elf named Whisk materialized, claiming his role as the Head House-elf of the once-great House Peverell, bearing a letter from his Lord. McGonagall was lost in contemplation, the name 'Hadrian Ignotus Peverell' from the Book of Admittance resonating with her. It was a name that echoed through the annals of wizarding lore, from a lineage believed to have perished long ago. Yet here it was, the promise of a Peverell's return to the Wizarding World, and the historic moment when a Peverell would enter Hogwarts for the very first time.

McGonagall takes the letter from Whisk and reads it. After reading,

she asks Whisk, "Should your Lord's parents or guardians take him shopping, then only I can provide you with a ticket." Since the letter states 'Lord of the Most Ancient, Most Noble and Reverent House of Peverell,' indicating that the 11-year-old boy is a Lord and not just an heir of a house, and there are no other members in his family, he is alone.

"No, Lord Peverell doesn't have parents or guardians, he's the only member of House Peverell," Whisk says, feeling a little sad.

McGonagall's maternal feeling quickly surfaces, "Alright, tell him I'll arrange for his shopping, be ready tomorrow."

It feels comforting to know that someone will help Whisk's Lord, so he conjures a temporary Portkey that he keeps handy and says, "This Portkey will take you to Peverell Manor." He hands the Portkey to McGonagall, and it vanishes after he materializes and disappears from there.

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Whisk reappeared at Peverell Manor, his features clouded with dismay. "My lord, Professor McGonagall won't give the ticket," he informed Harry.

Harry looked up, perplexed. "But why, Whisk?" he questioned.

Whisk's gaze softened as he replied, "She argued that you shouldn't go shopping without a parent or guardian. Therefore, she'll be here to accompany you tomorrow, given your tender age of only 11."

"You can go."Harry tells Whisk,Whisk bows deeply in response, and then vanishes with a soft 'pop', leaving Harry in the quiet aftermath of his departure.

Harry was lost in a sea of confusion, grappling with the reality that he wasn't prepared to face anyone from his past. The knowledge that Professor McGonagall would arrive tomorrow to take him shopping did little to quell the storm of emotions raging inside him.

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[A/N: Donate Stone Please]