The Gryffindor common room was dead silent—an eerie, almost unnatural stillness. If there was one thing Gryffindors were known for, it was their inability to wake up on time. The only signs of life were the occasional groan from a couch where a student had fallen asleep studying, and the barely conscious first-years who shuffled about like zombies, still clutching their school bags as though they were life vests in a storm.
Sky Kingston, however, was entirely unfazed by the dormitory graveyard shift, sitting comfortably on the couch with one boot on, one in his lap, and an unmistakable air of satisfaction.
As he fastened his second boot, his mind drifted back to the early morning errand he had run just before sunrise. It had become something of a tradition now.
Flashback: The Delivery to the Headmaster's Chambers
Dressed in his casual cloak, Sky tiptoed through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts like a seasoned thief—mostly because he was one. His destination: the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
In his hands was a cloth-covered object—large, heavy, and far more cursed than anyone in their right mind would ever willingly handle. The infamous mirror he had retrieved from the Room of Requirement. Getting it here had been surprisingly easy. He had simply asked the Room of Requirement for a slope passage directly to the Headmaster's entrance, and the room had provided it without hesitation. With the mirror placed securely on a wheel cart—also compliments of the Room—Sky had effortlessly rolled it to its destination. Like he said, easy to do.
Arriving at the entrance, he carefully rolled the mirror off the cart, positioning it just right. No loud impact, no clumsy drop—just a smooth delivery. From his bag, he pulled out the customary peace offering—a small, elegantly tied bag of lemon drops. As per usual, he placed it neatly beside the mirror, right at the gargoyle's feet.
"Alright, you stone-faced lizard. Make sure your boss gets this, yeah?" he whispered, giving the gargoyle a light tap.
The statue remained unresponsive. Sky sighed, straightening up and dusting off his hands. "I'll take that as a yes."
With that, he turned on his heel and made his way back, a smirk tugging at his lips. Whatever Dumbledore's reaction would be, he'd hear about it soon enough.
Back to the Present: Morning Chaos in the Common Room
As Sky finished tightening his belt and adjusting his robes, Hermione approached, already deep in a relentless flow of morning chatter about advanced magical theory and whatever arcane knowledge she had consumed before bed.
Sky, well-accustomed to the never-ending monologue, simply nodded at appropriate intervals, letting the words filter through one ear and out the other as they exited the common room together, making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.
It wasn't until they reached the entrance to the Great Hall that he abruptly turned to her and asked, "Hey, Hermione. How much of what you read do you actually understand?"
She blinked, momentarily thrown off. "What do you mean?"
Sky smirked. "I mean, do you actually comprehend the intricacies of what you're reading? Or do you just remember it? Because regurgitating information is one thing, but fully grasping it is another. Let's test this. Explain to me the theoretical magical implications of transdimensional spell layering when applied in a multi-plane dual-frequency ward structure."
Hermione's mouth opened… then promptly closed. Her brow furrowed. "I—well, I know about transdimensional layering, but—"
"But?" Sky raised an eyebrow.
She huffed, crossing her arms. "That's an absurdly niche topic!"
Sky smirked. "Alright then, let's try something else. Explain the principles behind arithmantic fluctuation theory when applied to unstable ley lines. And, just to make it interesting, give me an example that isn't already covered in the standard arithmancy texts."
Hermione opened her mouth, hesitated, then frowned deeply. Her fingers twitched, as if desperately wanting to grab a book for reference. "I... I can't think of an example off the top of my head."
Sky chuckled, shaking his head. "That's the problem, Hermione. You're amazing at memorization, but real understanding means being able to think beyond the text. You need to be able to apply what you learn, not just recite it."
He then poked her forehead lightly. "See, Hermione, knowing something and understanding it are two very different things. You cram everything into that brilliant head of yours, but without stopping to truly process it, you're just spewing fancy words like an adorable, academic parrot."
Her face turned red, whether from frustration or embarrassment, he wasn't sure. "Then what do you suggest, oh wise one?"
Sky leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. "Simple. Limit yourself. Master second-year material first, but really understand it. Supplement it with relevant extra reading instead of just swallowing entire books like a deranged literature vacuum. That's how I've done it, and I'm already tackling fifth-year material."
At this, Hermione's eyes widened. "You're studying at a fifth-year level?"
"Yep. Because I actually take time to learn instead of just cramming." He winked. "Quality over quantity, my dear bookworm."
As they entered the Great Hall, their conversation had drawn the attention of several upper-year students. One by one, curious Gryffindors—and even a few Ravenclaws—started asking Sky questions about study techniques, spell applications, and theoretical applications of magic.
Sky never gave outright answers. Instead, he countered their questions with more questions, leading them toward the answers themselves. Before long, he had a circle of students from multiple years hanging onto his words.
A Ravenclaw prefect, arms crossed, finally asked, "How the hell are you not in Ravenclaw?"
Sky flashed him a grin. "Didn't take my studies seriously until I got accepted to Hogwarts. Before that, I was more into stea....uhh—steel working. Yeah. Steel working."
Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice.
The questioning continued for a while, but soon, the Gryffindors had to leave for class. Sky and Hermione made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, where, upon entering the classroom, they were greeted by the sight of a very sickly-looking Professor Quirrell.
Quirrell's usual nervous energy seemed gone all together and replaced by a heavy onset of never ending tiredness. His turban was still wrapped around his head, but now, he also had what looked like a shawl covering most of his neck and his chin. He coughed into his sleeve before glancing up at the students with wide, anxious eyes.
Sky leaned toward Hermione and whispered, "Either he caught the wizard flu, or he's slowly turning into a sentient pile of anxiety."
Hermione elbowed him. "Be nice."
Sky merely grinned as he took his seat, watching Quirrell with a knowing expression. This was going to be an interesting lesson.