Chapter 5 Hogwarts part 2

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"Where better to hide a sorcerer than in a school for wizards? Now, let's get you sorted. With that much destiny on your plate, better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table exploded in cheers, but Jonathan barely registered it. His mind was a whirlwind. He wasn't just in the Potterverse; he was a magical fusion, a wizard-sorcerer combo meal. And apparently, his mystical mentor was just upstairs, chilling in wizarding Britain's most famous magical lost-and-found.

He stumbled to the Gryffindor table, collapsing next to Harry. "You alright?" Harry asked, eyeing him with concern. "You were under the hat forever."

"Yeah, just... processing," Jonathan said. He looked around the table.

The feast was a kaleidoscope of flavors that made him want to apologize to his taste buds for all the ramen. During Dumbledore's speech ("Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"), Jonathan studied the old wizard. There was a knowing twinkle in those eyes. 'I bet he knows about the whole sorcerer gig,' Jonathan mused. 'Probably knows what I'll have for breakfast three Tuesdays from now, too.'(maybe).

After the feast, they followed Percy ("Perfects, lead the firsties!") through Hogwarts' labyrinthine corridors. Jonathan's head swiveled like an owl's. Every portrait, every suit of armor could be hiding his sorcerer teacher.

In the Gryffindor common room, a place that felt like your favorite coffee shop got cozy with a library, Jonathan found a quiet nook. He held out his hand and focused, trying to conjure that spark he'd managed on his birthday.

At first, nothing. Then, a flicker. A tiny mote of golden light danced on his palm for a second before fizzling out. Jonathan grinned. It wasn't much, but hey, Merlin probably started small too.

"Whatcha doing?" Harry's voice made him jump.

"Oh, uh, nothing," Jonathan said quickly. "Just... thinking."

Harry nodded, but his gaze was thoughtful. "You know," he said after a beat, "when I found out I was a wizard, it was like everything flipped. But in a good way. Like the world got bigger and more... well, magical. Do you ever feel like that?"

Jonathan stared. Here was Harry Potter, tragic hero and future vanquisher of dark lord, asking if he got the whole 'my life just went bananas' thing. He almost laughed.

"Yeah, Harry," he said softly. "Yeah, I really do."

They shared a smile that said more than words. Then Ron hollered, "Oi, Harry! Jonathan! They've got wizard chess!"

As they joined Ron (who, to no one's surprise, checkmated them both), Jonathan felt a warmth that rivaled the common room's fireplace. He was in freaking Hogwarts, with a double scoop of magical potential, and friends who'd become legends. How epic was that?

But as night fell and the first-years stumbled up to their dorm, a tiny rain cloud formed over Jonathan's parade. Trolls, Voldemort, Umbridge (shudder) - it was all coming. And now, knowing he was some magical hybrid of two Jonathans, he felt the weight of a Gringotts vault on his shoulders.

In the dorm, he looked at his roommates: Harry dreaming of a family, Ron unknowingly on the brink of heroism, Neville with untapped bravery. In the girls' dorm, Hermione was probably reviewing spells in her sleep. 'They're my team now atleast for now,' he thought. 'Gotta make sure we all make it to the epilogue.'

He reached out, focusing hard. This time, the spark in his palm grew, flickered, then steadied into a small, glowing sigil. The mark of the Sorcerer Supreme, thumbnail-sized but unmistakable.

"Sweet Agamotto," he whispered, awed. Even Mr. Whiskers perked up, staring at the mystical symbol.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan saw something odd. A figure, semi-transparent like the ghosts but with an aura that screamed 'cosmic power,' peeked into the room. The figure, an older man with a salt-and-pepper goatee and a red cloak that moved as if it had a mind of its own, winked at Jonathan.

"Well, well," the figure said in a voice that sounded like Morgan Freeman after a few cups of coffee, "looks like my multiversal Help Wanted ad finally got a response. And here I thought I'd be teaching the finer points of sorcery to house-elves."

Jonathan gaped. "You're... you're the Sorcerer Supreme strange? Here at Hogwarts?"

"Stephen," the figure said, floating into the room. His cloak flared dramatically, then snagged on a bedpost. As he untangled it, he added, "Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, Defender of Earth's Dimension, and apparently now, Remedial Magic Teacher to Dimension-Ditching Apprentices."

"But why are you here?" Jonathan whispered, conscious of his sleeping roommates. "And why are you... you know..."

"Slightly see-through?" Strange chuckled. "Let's just say I had a slight mishap involving a temperamental Dementor, a malfunctioning Time-Turner, and a really bad plate of McGonagall's haggis. Now I'm the ghostly guest of Hogwart's most magical walk-in closet."

"The Room of Requirement," Jonathan breathed.

"Bingo, kid. Now, I see you've managed to light up your magical mood ring there." Strange gestured to Jonathan's hand, where the sigil was fading. "Not bad for a start. But if you want to go full 'Wizard's Apprentice,' you've got some learning to do."

"I'm ready," Jonathan said, his young face set with determination.

Strange's eyebrows rose. "You know what's coming? Ah, right, in your world, this is all a story." He looked thoughtful. "That complicates things. The future isn't set in stone, kid. Your presence here? It's like tossing a Niffler into a jeweler's. Things are gonna get shiny and chaotic."

"So, what do I do?" Jonathan asked.

"First, you learn," Strange said. "Both types of magic. You can't save your friends with half-baked spells and flickering sigils. Meet me in the Room of Requirement when you can. And don't worry about sneaking around; I've got a few tricks up my metaphysical sleeve."

With a final wink and a swish of his cloak (which bumped into a chair and apologized), Strange vanished. Jonathan fell back on his bed, his mind reeling. A talking magic hat, a ghostly Sorcerer Supreme mentor with a sense of humor drier than Snape's shampoo, and the dual challenge of mastering wands and mystical arts.

"You know what, Mr. Whiskers?" Jonathan said, stroking his feline friend. "I think we just boarded the weirdest, most wonderful magic school bus ever."

As he drifted off to sleep, dreams of spells, sigils, and saving the wizarding world danced in his head. Tomorrow, classes would start. Potions, Charms, and maybe a bit of Sorcerer Supreme 101. Jonathan smiled. He was Jonathan Blackwood, boy wizard and sorcerer-in-training. And Hogwarts? It was about to get a magical makeover, Marvel-style.

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Don't forget to drop some stones too