I woke up just before sunrise.
The dormitory was still dark, the only sounds being the soft snores of my dorm mates. But my mind was already buzzing with anticipation.
The Room of Requirement.
In my past life, I'd read about it in the Harry Potter books. A secret room on the seventh floor that only appeared when someone truly needed it. A place that could become whatever the seeker desired—an ideal location for my training.
I know it's there. I just need the right moment to find it.
A determined smile tugged at my lips as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the cool stone floor sending a jolt through my feet. I was getting closer to unlocking my potential—one step at a time.
I spent the next hour near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, pushing myself harder than ever. My body was already feeling the burn, but I welcomed it.
Small fireballs flickered to life at my fingertips, sputtering out faster than I liked, but it was progress. My control over Karna's solar energy was improving. I could feel the heat, the raw power, swirling just beneath the surface—waiting to be unleashed.
Focus… channel… feel the flow of energy…
I extended my palm, willing a flame to form. A flicker of heat surged outward, and for a moment, a small orb of golden fire hovered in my hand. It was weak, unstable… but there.
Getting better.
Satisfied, but knowing I still had a long way to go, I finally headed back toward the castle, sweat trailing down my brow and my heart pounding from the exertion.
By the time I made it to the Great Hall, the mouthwatering smell of bacon and fresh bread filled the air. Ron and Neville were already at the Gryffindor table, digging into their breakfast like they hadn't eaten in days.
"Morning," I mumbled, sliding into my seat.
"Oi, finally decided to join us?" Ron quipped between bites of toast.
"Thought you were plotting world domination up there," Neville added with a small smile.
"Something like that," I muttered, my thoughts still lingering on the Room of Requirement.
A soft whoosh of wings drew my attention.
"Solara!" My face brightened as my familiar, the magnificent golden hawk, swooped down gracefully and landed beside my plate.
Her feathers shimmered, catching the morning light as she eyed the sausages with blatant interest.
"Here," I chuckled, offering her a piece. "You earned it."
Solara gave a satisfied chirp before taking the morsel, her sharp eyes scanning the hall as if assessing potential threats.
"Still can't believe you've got a hawk," Ron muttered, watching as Solara tore into her breakfast. "I mean, she's… cool and all, but not exactly a post owl, is she?"
"She's more useful than an owl," I said with a grin, scratching the top of Solara's head.
"She's gorgeous," Rose murmured, her eyes studying the golden sheen of Solara's feathers. "But… isn't it unusual for hawks to be familiars? I've never read about anyone having one before."
I froze for half a second, but I recovered quickly, forcing a casual shrug.
"Yeah… I guess she's just… special."
Rose raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but she didn't press the matter.
Special was an understatement.
I knew Solara wasn't an ordinary hawk. I'd felt it the moment she first perched on my arm when I bought her from Diagon Alley. The moment our eyes met, I felt it—a pulse of raw, ancient energy.
Primal. Hot. Powerful.
And the more time we spent together, the clearer it became.
Solara understood things. She reacted to threats before they appeared, her instincts sharper than any normal creature's. And sometimes… I swore she communicated with me.
Not with words… but with intent.
Once, when we'd been alone in the dormitory, I'd whispered my concerns about hiding my powers. Solara had tilted her head and fixed me with an intense gaze, and at that moment, I felt… comforted. As if she'd silently reassured me.
Whatever she is… Solara isn't just a hawk.
But I kept that to myself. For now.
"Solara's just… one of a kind," I murmured, offering her another piece of sausage.
Ron shrugged, accepting the answer easily, but Rose's curious gaze lingered on Solara a moment longer before returning to her plate.
A soft whoosh echoed once more as Solara took flight, gliding toward the rafters while the morning chatter filled the Great Hall.
"Anyway…" Neville mumbled softly, drawing my attention back.
I glanced over and noticed the small glass ball clutched tightly in his hand.
"What's that, Nev?"
Neville's face went pink. "Oh… um… my gran sent me this." He held up the small glass sphere, swirling with faint white smoke.
"A Remembrall?" Hermione's voice piped up from across the table, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.
"Yeah," Neville mumbled, turning it over in his hands. "It… it glows red when I've forgotten something."
"That's brilliant," Rose said with an encouraging smile.
Hermione, however, looked very anxious.
"I don't know…" she said softly, her brow furrowed. "What if it turns red and you can't remember what you forgot? That would be dreadful, wouldn't it?"
I blinked, slightly taken aback.
"Uh, Hermione…" Ron gave her an odd look. "Isn't that… kind of the point?"
"Well, yes," Hermione said quickly, but her eyes darted back to the Remembrall, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "But what if it's something really important? Something you can't afford to forget?"
Neville's face went a shade paler. "I hadn't thought of that…"
I exchanged a glance with Rose, who raised an eyebrow.
Great. Now Neville's even more nervous.
"Don't worry, Nev," I said quickly. "If it turns red, we'll help you figure it out. Right?"
"Of course," Rose added with a reassuring smile.
Neville gave a small nod, but I could tell he was still anxious.
But before I could say anything else—
A shadow loomed over us.
"Looks like your gran thinks you're going to forget everything, Longbottom," a familiar, drawling voice echoed from behind us.
Malfoy.
The blond Slytherin was flanked by his ever-present lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle. His smirk was practically dripping with superiority as he sauntered closer.
"Can't remember which shoe goes on which foot without a little glass ball, can you?" Draco sneered, his eyes locked on Neville.
Neville's face flushed an even deeper shade of red, and he looked down, clearly embarrassed.
My jaw clenched.
Not today, Malfoy.
"Maybe you should get one, Malfoy," I said casually, my voice cutting through the tension. "Might remind you not to be a complete prat."
Draco's smirk faltered.
Rose chimed in, her voice cool and steady. "And if you need extra help, we could get one for Crabbe and Goyle too. Though I'm not sure they'd know what they forgot."
A ripple of laughter passed through the nearby Gryffindors. Even Hermione stifled a giggle behind her hand.
Draco's eyes narrowed, his pale cheeks tinged with color.
"Watch yourself, Carter," he hissed, taking a step closer.
"Or what?" I locked eyes with him, my gaze unwavering. "You'll run and tell your daddy?"
Draco's face twisted with anger, but instead of replying, he did something unexpected.
He snatched the Remembrall from Neville's hand.
"Give it back, Malfoy," Rose said, her voice sharp with warning.
"Or what, Evans?" Draco twirled the glass ball between his fingers. "You'll hex me?"
My eyes darkened.
I could.
But before either of us could make a move—
"Ahem."
The cool, clipped voice of Professor McGonagall echoed from behind us.
"Mr. Malfoy."
Draco froze, his posture stiffening immediately.
Professor McGonagall stood nearby, her sharp gaze sweeping over the scene. Her lips were pursed in that disapproving way that made even the most confident student shrink.
"Is there a reason you're holding something that clearly belongs to Mr. Longbottom?"
Draco's jaw clenched. "I was just—"
"Ten points from Slytherin," McGonagall said sharply, her eyes narrowing. "And I'll be having a word with your Head of House."
Draco's face was livid, but he had no choice but to drop the Remembrall back into Neville's hands.
"Move along, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall added coolly.
As Draco stalked back toward the Slytherin table, his face like thunder, I couldn't help but grin.
"Nice work," Ron whispered, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Yeah," I murmured, but my eyes lingered on Malfoy's retreating form.
This isn't over.
After breakfast, excitement buzzed in the air.
"Flying lessons," Ron said, practically bouncing as we made our way to the field. "Can't wait to get on a broom!"
"Hopefully, I don't break my neck," Neville muttered nervously.
"Just keep your feet on the ground until Madam Hooch says otherwise," Rose advised gently.
"Easy for you to say," Neville mumbled.
Hermione, however, looked very uneasy.
"I read that brooms can be unpredictable," she said quickly, her voice a little higher than usual. "If not properly maintained, there's a chance they might… malfunction."
"Malfunction?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "It's not a Muggle car, Hermione."
"Well… accidents happen!" Hermione's voice grew even more anxious. "Did you know that in 1926, a student was flung off their broom and ended up in the Great Lake? And in 1943, someone flew into the Whomping Willow!"
I exchanged a glance with Rose, who was trying—and failing—not to laugh.
"Hermione," I said gently, "we'll be fine. Madam Hooch won't let anything happen."
Hermione gave a small, nervous nod, but her expression still screamed worst-case scenario.
We arrived at the grassy field where a line of school brooms lay neatly on the ground. Madam Hooch, a stern-looking witch with short gray hair and piercing yellow eyes, stood in front of us.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Quickly now."
I stood beside my broom, eyeing it carefully.
Old. Worn. Splintering at the edges.
"Stick with me, Solara," I murmured softly. My hawk perched on a nearby fence, her sharp gaze taking in everything.
At least one of us is ready.
"Alright!" Madam Hooch clapped her hands. "Extend your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up!'"
"UP!" the class chorused.
My broom leapt obediently into my hand.
"Not bad," I murmured, feeling the familiar weight in my palm.
Beside me, Rose's broom jumped up smoothly, and even Hermione's took a few moments before wobbling into her grasp.
"Up! Come on, up!" Ron grunted, his broom barely twitching.
I grinned, unable to resist. "Try being nicer to it, Ron."
"Ha ha," Ron muttered, glaring at his uncooperative broom.
Neville, however, was struggling. His broom remained stubbornly on the ground, refusing to budge.
"UP!" Neville shouted desperately.
To everyone's surprise, the broom shot up—straight into Neville's face.
"OW!" Neville yelped, stumbling back.
I winced, but before I could move, Madam Hooch was already by Neville's side.
"Steady, Mr. Longbottom," she said, her voice gentler now.
I sighed softly, my eyes flicking toward Draco, who was already smirking.
Great. This is going to be fun.