The first thing I became aware of was the distant hooting of an owl outside my window. The sky beyond the enchanted glass was still tinted with the deep blues and purples of dawn, the stars fading as the first light of morning crept over the horizon. I lay still for a moment, blinking away sleep, listening to the soft rustling of the castle settling around me.
A cool breeze drifted in through the slightly open window, carrying with it the scent of fresh morning air. The castle was quiet—too early for most students to be awake. I stretched under the covers, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles still adjusting to the long walks through Hogwarts' endless corridors.
With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, suppressing a yawn. The wooden floor was cold against my bare feet as I made my way to my trunk. The house-elves had kept everything immaculately organized, just as I had left it last night. I pulled out my neatly folded robes for the day, setting them aside before grabbing my wand from the bedside table.
A quick flick of my wrist, and my wand tip illuminated, casting a soft glow around the room. It wasn't necessary—the morning light was growing stronger—but it was comforting to practice even small bits of magic when I could.
After freshening up at the small basin in my dormitory, I dressed in my Hogwarts uniform. The deep blue and bronze of my Ravenclaw robes suited me well, and I adjusted the tie neatly at my throat before glancing in the mirror. My reflection looked alert despite the early hour, my dark eyes filled with the same eager curiosity I had carried with me since arriving.
Satisfied, I grabbed my wand and made my way down the winding staircase that led to the Ravenclaw common room.
The common room was nearly empty, just as I expected. The soft glow from the enchanted ceiling cast a calming light over the space, mirroring the early morning sky outside. A few older students were already up, hunched over books, quietly flipping through pages of parchment as they sipped steaming cups of tea.
I made my way over to one of the armchairs near the fireplace, settling into its comforting embrace. The warmth of last night's embers still lingered faintly in the hearth. I let my gaze wander over the vast shelves of books lining the walls, making a mental note to return to the library later. There was still so much I wanted to read—especially about Ancient Runes.
The minutes stretched on, and I absentmindedly traced patterns on the armrest of my chair with my fingertips. The peace of the moment was enjoyable, but I was eager for my friends to wake up.
Eventually, I heard the telltale sound of footsteps on the dormitory stairs. I glanced up just as Edgar Selwyn emerged, rubbing his eyes and yawning dramatically. His usually messy blond hair was even more unkempt than usual.
"Merlin's beard," he groaned, flopping into the chair beside mine. "You're already up? Do you ever sleep, Starborn?"
I smirked. "Not when there's so much to do."
"Unbelievable," Edgar muttered, rubbing his face. "Do you know how early it is?"
"Early enough that we can get to breakfast before the entire school floods the Great Hall," I said. "You should be thanking me."
Edgar mumbled something unintelligible and leaned back, looking as if he might drift off again right there.
A few minutes later, Eleanor Cromwell arrived, looking much more put together than Edgar. Her dark brown hair was neatly pinned back, and she carried herself with the same sharp awareness she always had.
"Morning," she greeted, sitting on the couch across from us. "I see Marcus has dragged you out of bed already, Edgar."
"He didn't drag me," Edgar protested, though his sluggish posture made it clear he wasn't entirely awake.
Eleanor smirked, then turned to me. "First class is Transfiguration again, right?"
I nodded. "With Professor Dumbledore."
"I wonder if today will be harder," she mused. "We barely managed to turn a matchstick into a needle yesterday."
"Some of us did," Edgar corrected. "Marcus over here made his gleam like it was made of actual silver."
I shrugged. "I studied a lot over the summer."
"Yes, we know," Eleanor said with a half-smile. "You'll have to teach us some of your tricks."
"Maybe," I said teasingly. "If you promise not to fall asleep in class."
Edgar groaned. "You two are relentless."
By the time we made our way down to the Great Hall, the castle had begun to stir with life. The corridors were filled with students emerging from their common rooms, some chatting animatedly, others still looking half-asleep as they shuffled toward breakfast.
As we stepped inside the Great Hall, the comforting warmth of the room welcomed us. The enchanted ceiling above had fully transformed into a bright morning sky, streaks of gold and pink stretching across a sea of blue. The long house tables were filling up, and the sound of clinking cutlery and lively conversation filled the air.
We found our usual seats at the Ravenclaw table, settling in as the morning feast appeared before us. Trays of eggs, toast, bacon, sausages, porridge, and fresh fruit materialized, along with jugs of pumpkin juice and tea.
I reached for a piece of toast, spreading a bit of marmalade on it before taking a bite. Across from me, Eleanor carefully poured herself a cup of tea, adding just a touch of honey. Edgar, still half-dazed, grabbed a plate and piled it with whatever was closest.
"So," Eleanor said between bites, "what do we know about Dumbledore?"
"Not much," I admitted. "Other than that he's supposed to be one of the most brilliant wizards alive."
"Brilliant and strange," Edgar added. "Did you see the way he was looking at us yesterday? Like he was waiting for something interesting to happen."
I had noticed it too—the sharp, observant gaze, the way he seemed to know more than he let on.
"Well," Eleanor said, smirking slightly, "Marcus did make quite the impression yesterday. Maybe he's watching you."
I rolled my eyes. "Doubt it."
"Either way," Edgar said through a mouthful of eggs, "I just hope today isn't as impossible as yesterday. If I have to stare at a matchstick for an hour again, I might lose my mind."
"Better get used to it," Eleanor replied. "We'll be doing a lot of that this year."
Breakfast continued in easy conversation, the nervous energy of the first day replaced by a more comfortable rhythm. We still didn't know much about what lay ahead, but for now, the food was good, the company was enjoyable, and the day was full of possibilities.
As we finished our meal, the sound of students gathering their things signaled that it was time to head to class.
"Alright," I said, standing up and grabbing my bag. "Let's see what Dumbledore has in store for us today."
The corridors of Hogwarts were abuzz with the steady hum of students moving between classes, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor. The torches lining the walls flickered lazily, casting long, dancing shadows. It was only the second day, yet the castle already felt somewhat familiar—though there was still much of it I had yet to explore.
Beside me, Edgar and Eleanor walked with steady strides, their robes swaying as we weaved through the crowd. Ahead, the group of Gryffindors who shared our Transfiguration class moved at a similar pace, among them my friend Henry Potter. He had already noticed me and turned with a grin.
"There you are, Starborn," Henry said as I caught up. "Ready to impress Professor Dumbledore again?"
I smirked. "It's just Transfiguration, Henry. You make it sound like I'm about to duel him."
"After yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if he had you transforming tables into dragons by next week," Henry joked.
Edgar huffed. "Meanwhile, some of us are still struggling to get our needles right."
"You'll get there," Eleanor assured him. "It just takes practice."
We reached the classroom, the large wooden door looming before us. A few students from both houses were already waiting outside, chatting in hushed voices. The Gryffindors stood together, their red-and-gold scarves bright against the dim corridor.
A moment later, the door creaked open on its own, and we filed in.
Professor Dumbledore stood at the front of the room, his deep purple robes embroidered with faint silver constellations that seemed to shift when he moved. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room with quiet amusement. He had a way of commanding attention effortlessly, without ever raising his voice.
"Good morning, students," he greeted, his voice smooth and measured. "It is always a pleasure to see eager minds returning for another day of learning. I trust you have all recovered from the trials of your first full day at Hogwarts?"
There were a few chuckles among the students, but everyone remained attentive.
"Excellent," Dumbledore continued, clasping his hands together. "Today, we shall continue our journey into the art of Transfiguration. Yesterday, you began with the fundamental exercise of altering a matchstick into a needle—a deceptively simple task that requires both precision and concentration. Today, we will refine that control and take a step further."
With a flick of his wand, the lids of our wooden boxes popped open. Inside, another matchstick lay waiting.
Several students groaned audibly. Edgar let out a sigh. "Again?"
Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "Ah, but you see, true mastery does not come from rushing forward. It comes from building a foundation so strong that the future challenges feel effortless. Today, you will not simply transfigure your matchstick into a needle—you will refine it. Size. Shape. Material. These are the things that separate a competent wizard from an extraordinary one."
He lifted his wand, and the matchstick on his desk shimmered, warping seamlessly into a fine silver hairpin adorned with a delicate engraving of a phoenix.
"Consider not only the transformation," he said, holding up the pin for all to see, "but the quality of it. You are not merely forcing one object to change into another; you are guiding it, shaping it, willing it into perfection."
He gestured toward our desks. "Now, let us see how far you can refine your own transfigurations."
I picked up my wand, already picturing the outcome in my mind. Yesterday, I had done this with ease. Today would be no different.
I envisioned the smooth metallic sheen, the needle's perfect sharpness, its weight. I focused on the transition from rough wood to polished silver.
*"Ferrum Mutatio."*
The transformation was instant. My matchstick shimmered, folding in upon itself in a seamless ripple of magic. When the glow faded, a gleaming silver needle lay before me. But I didn't stop there.
Remembering Dumbledore's demonstration, I concentrated further, adjusting the needle's proportions, sharpening the tip ever so slightly, and engraving a minuscule starburst pattern along the shaft—an insignia I had seen in one of my books about magical craftsmanship.
I set my wand down, satisfied.
Across the table, Henry had managed his transformation on the first try, though his needle was still a bit uneven. He shot me a look. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
I shrugged. "It's just a matter of practice."
Henry shook his head, amused, before returning to his needle, trying to smooth out its shape.
Meanwhile, Edgar had finally managed to change his matchstick, but it remained dull, lacking the polished shine of true metal. Eleanor's transformation had gone halfway—her needle was bent at an odd angle, as though caught between wood and metal.
Professor Dumbledore strolled through the classroom, observing our progress with an air of quiet patience. When he reached my desk, he paused, picking up my needle between his fingers.
"Astonishing work, Mr. Starborn," he said, turning the needle in the light. "Not only a successful transformation but with an added touch of craftsmanship. A keen mind, indeed."
I inclined my head in acknowledgment.
Dumbledore set the needle down and moved on, offering words of encouragement and correction where necessary. His approach to teaching was unlike any I had seen before—he never raised his voice, never chastised, but there was an undeniable weight in his words. Even the students who struggled felt no shame under his gaze, only a deepened determination to improve.
By the time the lesson neared its end, most of the class had managed at least a functional needle. Some, like Eleanor, had needed several tries, but Dumbledore remained patient, guiding them through their mistakes.
As the final minutes of the lesson approached, Dumbledore turned to address the class. "Transfiguration is not simply a matter of waving a wand and expecting results. It is a discipline, an art, and above all, an act of understanding. The more you grasp the essence of what you wish to create, the more powerful your magic will become. You are not merely forcing change—you are shaping the very nature of the world around you."
With a flick of his wand, the matchsticks reappeared on our desks, ready to be used again in future lessons.
"That will be all for today," Dumbledore announced. "You are dismissed."
As I gathered my things, Edgar leaned over. "Alright, Marcus, you *have* to tell me how you did that. Your needle looked like something out of a jeweler's shop."
Henry grinned. "That's just Marcus for you—he reads ahead, studies everything, and then pretends it's easy."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "He's probably read the entire syllabus already."
I merely smiled, slipping my wand back into my robes.
As we stepped out into the hallway, the castle awaited, and the day had only just begun.
As we stepped out of the Transfiguration classroom, the corridor buzzed with the chatter of students discussing the lesson. I walked alongside Henry and Edgar, my bag slung over one shoulder, still mulling over Dumbledore's words. He had a way of making even the simplest of spells feel like a gateway to something grander.
Before we could take more than a few steps, a soft voice called out behind us.
"Excuse me?"
Turning, I found myself face to face with Elizabeth Abbott, the Gryffindor girl I had helped in our last class. She clutched her bag tightly in front of her, looking slightly nervous but determined. Her light brown hair was neatly tied back, and her hazel eyes flickered between me and the others.
"I—I just wanted to say thank you again for helping me yesterday," she said, offering a small, appreciative smile. "Transfiguration is… well, it's proving to be a challenge."
"You're getting better," I reassured her. "Your needle today was much better than your matchstick yesterday."
She laughed lightly. "That's a low bar, but I appreciate it."
A brief pause followed before she took a breath and straightened her shoulders. "I was also wondering… would it be alright if I joined you?"
Henry grinned. "Of course! The more, the merrier."
Edgar nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we're all still figuring things out anyway. Might as well do it together."
Elizabeth's face brightened with relief. "Thanks. I—well, I wasn't sure how things worked yet. Gryffindors mostly stick together, but it seems silly to avoid people just because they're in a different house."
"Exactly," I said. "Besides, we share classes. Makes sense to stick together when we can."
With that settled, we continued down the corridor, the conversation flowing more easily now that the initial awkwardness had passed. Elizabeth fit in naturally, and soon, we were walking as though we had all known each other far longer than just two days.
Henry glanced at his schedule, sighing. "Well, time to part ways. We've got Defense Against the Dark Arts next."
Elizabeth made a face. "I've heard the professor is strict."
"Probably," Henry said. "But hey, at least we get to practice actual spells."
Eleanor, Edgar, and I exchanged glances before turning toward the opposite hallway. "We've got Herbology next," I said.
Henry smirked. "Have fun playing in the dirt."
I rolled my eyes. "We'll be learning how to keep you from getting poisoned when you inevitably mistake a Venomous Tentacula for a shrub."
He laughed. "Fair enough. See you at lunch?"
"Yeah," I said, watching as he and Elizabeth disappeared into the sea of students.
As we left the castle and made our way toward the greenhouses, the crisp morning air was a refreshing contrast to the stuffy corridors of Hogwarts. The courtyard stretched wide before us, bathed in the soft golden light of the sun climbing higher in the sky. The stone path leading to the greenhouses was still slightly damp with morning dew, and the scent of fresh earth filled my lungs as we approached.
The greenhouses themselves were a marvel—large glass structures filled with vibrant greenery, their windows fogged from the warmth and moisture inside. Small vines curled around the edges of the frames, some twitching slightly as if reaching for the sunlight. The Slytherins were already waiting when we arrived, standing in small groups, their expressions varying from curiosity to boredom.
Professor Violet Wrenwick stood by the entrance, her sharp brown eyes sweeping over us with quiet authority. Her black curls framed her wrinkled face, giving her a stern but not unkind appearance. She wore dark green robes that blended seamlessly with the foliage behind her.
"Inside, everyone," she said, her voice firm yet gentle.
The moment we stepped into the greenhouse, the air changed. The warmth wrapped around me, thick with the scent of damp soil, blooming flowers, and something faintly herbal. The space was filled with wooden tables, each lined with pots containing a variety of plants—some ordinary, others distinctly magical. There were shelves filled with gardening tools, bottles of strange-colored liquids, and labeled jars containing dried leaves, seeds, and roots.
We took our places around the tables, standing behind the pots arranged neatly before us. The plants in front of us had long, delicate stems with tiny leaves that trembled ever so slightly, as if reacting to our presence. Some were deep green, while others had a reddish tint at the edges.
"Today, we will be working with Flutterby Bush seedlings," Professor Wrenwick announced, standing at the front of the room. "These plants are highly sensitive to magical energy and respond to those who interact with them. Your task today is to assess your magical influence over them and learn to control it."
She gestured toward one of the seedlings in front of her and reached out a hand. Instantly, the tiny leaves quivered and tilted toward her, as if drawn by an invisible force.
"By placing your hand near the plant," she continued, "you can gauge your magical balance. If the plant leans toward you, your energy is stable. If it pulls away, you are either pushing too much magic into the air or holding back too much. The goal is to establish a gentle connection without overwhelming it."
There was a murmur of interest among the students.
"You may begin," she instructed, stepping back to observe.
I turned to my Flutterby Bush, studying its tiny trembling leaves. Slowly, I extended my hand, allowing my magic to flow naturally—not forcing it, just letting it exist as it always had. The effect was immediate. The plant quivered for a moment, then tilted toward me, its leaves opening slightly as though basking in my presence.
I smirked. That was easy enough.
Across the table, Edgar was frowning at his own plant, which remained completely still. "What am I doing wrong?" he muttered.
"Try relaxing," I suggested. "You're probably thinking too hard about it. Just let your magic flow."
He nodded, took a slow breath, and tried again. This time, the plant shifted—just barely—but it was progress.
Eleanor, standing next to him, had better luck. Her plant swayed toward her after only a few seconds of effort. "Oh! That's brilliant," she said excitedly.
On the other side of the room, Olive Avery, a Slytherin with a perpetual look of superiority, scoffed. "This is absurd," he muttered. "We're standing around waving at plants like imbeciles."
Professor Wrenwick's sharp gaze locked onto him. "Mr. Avery, if you believe yourself above the lesson, you are welcome to demonstrate your skill to the class."
Olive stiffened. A few of the Slytherins smirked, clearly enjoying the idea of watching one of their own being tested. He scowled but stepped forward and placed his hand near one of the plants.
At first, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the leaves curled inward, shrinking away from him. A few students stifled laughter.
Professor Wrenwick remained impassive. "Too forceful," she said. "Magic is not about control alone. It is a balance of intent and understanding. Try again—this time, ease up."
Orion pressed his lips together, clearly annoyed, but tried once more. This time, the plant uncurled slightly, though it still seemed reluctant.
"Better," Professor Wrenwick said with a nod. "Remember, magic is a conversation, not a demand."
The lesson continued, with some students struggling and others excelling. One of the Slytherin girls let out a surprised yelp when her plant twisted so violently that it knocked over a nearby pot, sending soil spilling onto the table.
Professor Wrenwick sighed but waved her wand, instantly repairing the mess. "A reminder to everyone—your energy affects the plants more than you realize. Keep yourselves calm, or you'll startle them."
By the time class ended, most of us had at least some level of success. Some, like Olive. remained frustrated, while others looked genuinely fascinated.
Professor Wrenwick clapped her hands once. "That will be all for today. Your homework is to read the chapter on magical plant temperament and write a short reflection on what you learned from today's lesson."
A collective groan echoed through the greenhouse, but we all began packing up. As I stepped outside, the cool air was a welcome contrast to the humidity inside.
Edgar exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "That was trickier than I thought."
Eleanor nodded. "But interesting. I like her teaching style—she actually makes sure we understand."
I agreed. Professor Wrenwick had a way of making even a simple task feel like a genuine test of skill. As we walked back toward the castle, I found myself already looking forward to the next lesson.
As we stepped back into the castle, the lingering scent of damp earth from the greenhouses was quickly replaced by the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, and spiced pumpkin. My stomach grumbled in anticipation, reminding me of how much energy the morning's lessons had taken out of me. The corridors were filled with the hum of students moving toward the Great Hall, all eager for their midday meal.
Eleanor, Edgar, and I walked together, still discussing Herbology.
"I didn't expect magical plants to react so much to magic," Eleanor said thoughtfully. "It's like they have a mind of their own."
Edgar nodded. "Yeah, I always thought Herbology would be about identifying plants and brewing potions with them, not… convincing them to work with us."
"It makes sense," I said. "Magic is in everything. Even plants respond to it—just like wands, creatures, and people do."
As we entered the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling reflected the brilliant blue sky outside, dotted with drifting clouds. The long house tables were already filled with food: steaming platters of roasted beef, golden-crusted pies, fluffy mashed potatoes dripping with melted butter, and baskets of warm bread rolls. Goblets of pumpkin juice and water shimmered under the glow of the floating candles.
We took our usual seats at the Ravenclaw table, and I barely had time to grab a serving spoon before Henry arrived, dropping into the seat across from me. Elizabeth followed close behind, sliding into a spot next to him.
"How was Defense Against the Dark Arts?" I asked, reaching for a generous helping of potatoes.
Henry exhaled dramatically. "Terrifying. Professor Fairburn is strict—really strict."
Elizabeth nodded, picking up a piece of bread. "She made us practice wand movements over and over until we got them perfect. And if you were even slightly off, she'd point it out immediately."
Henry shuddered. "And she kept giving us this look—like she could tell exactly how much we didn't know."
I smirked. "Well, it is Defense Against the Dark Arts. You wouldn't want a careless professor teaching you that."
Elizabeth shrugged. "I suppose. But still, I've never felt so unprepared in my life. She asked a few students to define basic defensive spells, and when one got it wrong, she just stared at them until they nearly melted into their seat."
"Sounds like she's trying to scare you into working hard," Eleanor said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
"It's working," Henry muttered. "I'm definitely reading ahead before the next lesson."
Conversation continued as we ate, with students sharing their experiences from the morning's lessons. Some were already worried about homework, while others speculated about what awaited them in the coming days.
A few seats down, I overheard a group of older Ravenclaws debating a magical theory about nonverbal spellcasting, while another group excitedly whispered about Quidditch tryouts.
"This place is really something, isn't it?" Elizabeth said, looking around the hall. "Everywhere you go, someone is talking about magic in a way you'd never hear anywhere else."
I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. The world outside Hogwarts felt so far away now. Here, magic was in the air, in the food, in the very walls of the castle.
As lunch began winding down, students slowly started rising from their seats, ready for the afternoon's lessons. I finished the last of my pumpkin juice, stretching slightly before gathering my things.
"Ready for the next class?" Eleanor asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
I smirked. "Always."
With that, we left the Great Hall, heading toward the next challenge Hogwarts had in store for us.
As we made our way from the Great Hall toward the Charms classroom, the familiar corridors of Hogwarts bustled with students heading to their next lessons. The chatter of excited voices echoed off the ancient stone walls, mixing with the occasional sound of enchanted suits of armor shifting slightly as we passed.
Henry and Elizabeth walked alongside me, their expressions lighter now that Defense Against the Dark Arts was behind them. Eleanor and Edgar followed close behind, and I noticed Eleanor had her wand in her hand, absentmindedly twirling it between her fingers.
"I'm hoping we actually get to cast more spells this time," Henry said, adjusting the strap of his bag. "I mean, theory is important and all, but I came to Hogwarts to actually do magic."
Elizabeth smirked. "Let me guess, you want to be blasting things across the room by the end of the year?"
Henry grinned. "Obviously."
I chuckled. "Well, considering how Professor Beery teaches, I think we'll be doing something more practical today."
As we reached the classroom, students were already filing in. The room itself was much the same as before—rows of desks, high windows letting in natural light, and shelves filled with books on Charms, enchanted objects, and magical theory. The walls had an almost tangible hum of magic to them, as if centuries of spellwork had seeped into the very stones.
Professor Beery stood at the front of the room, his piercing silvery-blue eyes sweeping over the students as we took our seats. Once everyone had settled, he clasped his hands together.
"Welcome back," he said, his voice as commanding as ever. "I trust you've all taken the time to reflect on our last lesson, and perhaps even practiced your wand movements in preparation for today." His gaze flicked toward me momentarily, as if expecting that I had done more than just review.
There were a few nods, though some students shifted uncomfortably.
"Good," he continued. "Today, we will be building upon what we learned previously. Last time, we focused on the essential elements of spellcasting—wand movement, pronunciation, and intent. Now, we move forward. The spell we will be working on today is *Lumos*."
There was a murmur of excitement. *Lumos*—the Wand-Lighting Charm—was one of the first spells every young witch or wizard wanted to master.
"Light is one of the most fundamental elements of magic," Beery went on, pacing slowly as he spoke. "It represents knowledge, discovery, and the ability to drive back darkness, both literal and metaphorical. But, as simple as it may seem, *Lumos* requires precise control. Too little intent, and your wand will remain dark. Too much, and you may find yourself temporarily blinding your classmates."
He turned toward the board, giving his wand a sharp flick. The word *Lumos* appeared in neat, golden script, followed by the correct wand movement—a small but deliberate upward flick.
"First, observe." Beery raised his wand and, with the precise movement he had shown, clearly enunciated, "*Lumos*." Instantly, a bright white light blossomed at the tip of his wand, illuminating the space around him. With a casual twist of his wrist, the light dimmed slightly, then grew brighter again. "The control of brightness is something you will learn with practice, but for now, your goal is to produce a steady light." He gave another flick, and the glow vanished. "*Nox*," he said, and the room returned to normal.
He turned back to us. "Now, wands out. Try it."
I had already read about *Lumos* during my summer studies, and I was eager to put it into practice. Raising my wand, I mimicked Beery's movement and said, "*Lumos*."
A bright white light flared at the tip of my wand immediately, steady and strong.
Beery's sharp eyes flicked toward me. He strode over, glancing at the glow. "Excellent control, Starborn," he said. "Your intent was focused, and your magic responded accordingly."
Around the room, students were attempting the spell, with mixed results. Henry's wand flickered with a weak light before sputtering out. Elizabeth managed a faint but steady glow, her brow furrowed in concentration. Edgar, sitting nearby, muttered the incantation three times before his wand finally produced a dim, golden glow.
Professor Beery moved between the rows, correcting grips and wand movements. "Remember," he called, "your intent must be clear. If you hesitate, so will your magic."
Elizabeth, frowning slightly, turned to me. "Marcus, how did you get it so strong on the first try?"
I considered for a moment before answering. "I think it's about confidence. When you cast a spell, you have to believe it will work. Magic responds to certainty."
She nodded and tried again. This time, her light grew brighter.
"Better," I said with a nod.
Beery must have been watching, because he suddenly clapped his hands. "Starborn, since you seem to be ahead of your peers, I have a separate challenge for you."
I looked up as he gestured for me to stand. "Follow me."
I exchanged a quick glance with Henry and Elizabeth before rising from my seat. Beery led me to the front of the classroom, where he picked up a small, dark-colored glass orb from his desk.
He held It up. "This," he explained to the class, "is a magical light-dampening sphere. It absorbs most forms of illumination, making it difficult for light-based spells to penetrate." He turned back to me. "Your task, Starborn, is to cast *Lumos* and sustain a light bright enough to be visible through the sphere's enchantment."
I studied the object for a moment. This was definitely more advanced than simply producing a glow—but that was the point. I raised my wand, cleared my mind, and cast.
"*Lumos!*"
The bright white light flared to life once more, but as soon as it touched the sphere, it seemed to dim slightly, as if the object were swallowing it. I focused, pushing more magical energy into the spell. The glow intensified, and slowly, a faint shimmer of light began to shine through the glass.
Professor Beery observed me closely, nodding slightly. "Impressive," he said. "Most first-years would struggle to make any light at all through this charm, yet you have managed it on your first attempt."
The rest of the class watched in fascination. Some whispered to each other, while others were clearly making mental notes to attempt it themselves later.
I held the spell for a moment longer before Beery gave a satisfied nod. "That will do. *Nox.*"
I ended the spell, and the light vanished. As I returned to my seat, Henry grinned. "Show-off."
Elizabeth smirked. "At least now we know who to go to if we ever need to light up the whole common room."
I chuckled, feeling a sense of satisfaction. The lesson continued, with students practicing their spells while Beery moved about, offering corrections.
By the time the class ended, nearly everyone had managed to produce some form of light, though with varying degrees of success. As we packed up our things, Beery addressed us one last time.
"Good work today," he said. "Practice *Lumos* and *Nox* in your spare time. Controlling light is a skill that will serve you well in many aspects of magic. Dismissed."
With that, we gathered our things and left the classroom, ready for whatever the rest of the day had in store.
The corridors were buzzing with students hurrying to their next destinations, but for us, the path was clear—our next stop was the library. As we ascended the grand staircase, the cool air of Hogwarts' upper floors was a stark contrast to the warm glow of the Charms classroom. The scent of parchment and old books grew stronger with each step, promising an afternoon of quiet study.
Henry stretched his arms above his head. "Finally, some time to sit down. I swear, my brain feels like it's run a marathon."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You mean your brain was actually running?"
Henry grinned. "What can I say? I have my moments."
I smirked as we reached the heavy oak doors of the library. The moment we stepped inside, the world seemed to shift—voices became hushed, footsteps softened against the stone floor, and an air of solemnity settled around us. Towering bookshelves stretched high toward the enchanted ceiling, their spines filled with centuries of magical knowledge.
Eleanor took a deep breath. "I could stay in here forever."
"I think you might," Edgar muttered, already eyeing a shelf of books on advanced Arithmancy.
We made our way toward an open table near the large windows. Henry and Elizabeth quickly pulled out their Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment, their expressions shifting from amusement to determination.
"I don't even know where to start," Henry admitted, flipping through his notes. "Professor Fairburn made it sound like we should already know half of this."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "She expects us to, even if we don't." She tapped her quill against the parchment. "I'll look up defensive theories; you check magical creatures that can be repelled with basic counter-curses."
While they got to work, I turned my attention to the rows of books surrounding us. My fingers traced along the spines until I found one that caught my eye: *A Beginner's Guide to Magical Symbols and Their Origins*.
Settling into my chair, I flipped open the book to the first chapter. The parchment had a faint golden tint, the ink slightly faded from age.
_"Magic has long been intertwined with symbols, from the earliest pictographs of wizarding civilizations to the complex rune systems studied by modern scholars. Symbols hold power not just in the material world, but in the minds of those who understand them. To carve a rune is to shape magic itself, to inscribe intent into the fabric of reality."_
I leaned in, fascinated. The idea that magic could be written, that it could be bound to an object or space through mere symbols, felt both ancient and deeply powerful. I turned the page.
_"The earliest recorded use of magical symbols predates wands. Shamans and enchanters of ancient wizarding cultures used carved stones, inscribed wood, and painted glyphs to channel their magic. Some of these symbols evolved into what we now recognize as runes, though others faded into obscurity, lost to time."_
My mind raced with possibilities. If symbols could harness magic, could they be used to strengthen spells? Could they store power for later use?
I flipped through a few more pages, scanning the sections on common rune inscriptions.
_"Fehu: A rune of prosperity and abundance, often used in enchantments to attract wealth or strengthen protective charms._
_"Ansuz: Associated with wisdom and communication. Inscribed on magical texts or amulets, it is believed to enhance understanding of complex magical theory."_
_"Eiwaz: A rune of transformation, used in transfiguration charms and protective barriers."_
I paused on that last one. Transformation. Was it possible that even spells like Transfiguration had deeper symbolic roots?
"Marcus," Eleanor whispered, nudging my arm. "You're reading about runes again, aren't you?"
I smirked. "Guilty."
She glanced at the page. "I don't think we'll be covering those for a few years."
"Doesn't mean I can't learn early," I said, flipping to a section on practical rune applications.
Eleanor shook her head fondly before turning back to her own book, something on wandlore.
Time slipped away as I read. The deeper I delved, the more I realized that runes weren't just about inscribing magic—they were about understanding the very structure of how it worked. Each symbol was like a locked door, and learning them was the key.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I glanced over at Henry and Elizabeth. Henry groaned softly, rubbing his temple. "I swear, if I have to read one more paragraph about shielding spells, my head is going to explode."
Elizabeth didn't even look up from her parchment. "You'll survive."
Edgar, who had been quietly working through a text on alchemical transmutations, looked up. "Maybe if you spent less time complaining and more time reading, you'd be done already."
Henry shot him a look. "You sound like my grandmother."
We all chuckled quietly, mindful of Mr. Pince's ever-watchful eyes.
Eventually, as the light from the high windows began to shift into the golden hues of the late afternoon, we packed up our things. My mind was still swirling with thoughts of ancient symbols and the possibilities they held.
As we stepped out of the library, the torches along the castle corridors cast flickering golden light against the ancient stone walls, stretching our shadows long across the floor. The distant hum of chatter and footsteps echoed through the vast corridors, signaling that most students were heading toward the Great Hall for dinner. The scent of warm bread, roasted meat, and spiced pumpkin juice drifted toward us, and my stomach gave an appreciative growl.
Henry stretched his arms over his head, groaning dramatically. "Finally! I feel like I've aged ten years reading about counter-curses and defensive formations."
Elizabeth smirked as she tucked her rolled-up parchment into her bag. "You mean you feel like you've aged ten years pretending to read about counter-curses while staring blankly at the pages?"
Henry placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. "I'll have you know, I was deeply contemplating the complexities of spellwork!"
"Oh?" Eleanor quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Then perhaps you can explain how the Shield Charm interacts with dark enchantments?"
Henry opened his mouth, closed it, and then grinned sheepishly. "Well… you see… It's all very complicated. Hard to summarize in such a short amount of time."
Edgar let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "I'll take that as a no."
I laughed along with them as we descended the staircase. The day had been long, but I found myself enjoying our little group more and more. It was strange to think that just two days ago, none of us had known each other. Now, we shared meals, classes, and conversations with ease.
By the time we entered the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling overhead had darkened into a deep navy blue, dotted with silver stars. The long house tables were already filling up, the air buzzing with the overlapping voices of hundreds of students talking and laughing. Golden plates gleamed under the candlelight, and as we found our way toward the tables, the familiar sight of the abundant Hogwarts feast spread before us—roast chicken, glazed ham, mashed potatoes, thick slices of freshly baked bread, and steaming bowls of vegetables. The rich, savory scent of buttered peas and roasted pumpkin filled the air.
"Alright, we're off to the Gryffindor table," Henry said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Try not to pine for our company too much."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him before looking at the rest of us. "See you all tomorrow. And Marcus, do try to get some sleep instead of spending all night reading again."
I gave her an innocent smile. "I don't do that.", which was true but I also wanted to message with her.
Henry and Elizabeth grinned before turning toward the Gryffindor table, weaving through the crowd to find their seats. The rest of us made our way toward the Ravenclaw table, where there were still plenty of open spots.
As soon as we sat down, the food seemed to replenish itself on our plates. I reached for a serving of roast chicken and potatoes, my appetite growing with each bite.
Edgar, who had piled his plate high with food, let out a satisfied sigh. "I could get used to this."
Eleanor smirked. "I think you already have."
The conversation flowed as we ate, moving from classes to our thoughts on Hogwarts itself.
"I still can't believe how big this place is," Edgar said between bites. "I feel like I discover a new corridor every time I turn around."
"I overheard a few older students talking about secret passageways," Eleanor added. "Apparently, there are tunnels that lead outside the castle—though I doubt we'll be finding these anytime soon."
"Probably for the best," I said, thinking of the many moving staircases and hidden doors we had already encountered. Hogwarts seemed to have a mind of its own, shifting and revealing its secrets only when it saw fit.
Before long, dessert appeared—treacle tarts, pumpkin pasties, sticky toffee pudding, and a variety of fruit pies. I helped myself to a small slice of apple pie, savoring the sweet and spiced flavor as I listened to my housemates chat about the upcoming week.
By the time we finished eating, the Great Hall had started to empty. Students stretched and yawned, full and content, before making their way toward the exits. We followed suit, filing out with the rest of the Ravenclaws and heading toward the common room.
The castle had grown quieter, the distant echo of footsteps fading as students dispersed to their respective dormitories. The stone walls, illuminated by the soft glow of torches, felt warmer now—more familiar.
When we reached the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower, the bronze eagle knocker regarded us silently before presenting a riddle.
*"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?"*
I paused for only a moment before answering, "An echo."
The eagle let out a pleased hum before swinging open, granting us entry.
The common room was bathed in the warm glow of the floating blue flames in the fireplace. The massive arched windows displayed the vast night sky, the moonlight casting silver streaks across the wooden floor. A few older students remained near the fireplace, engaged in quiet conversations or absorbed in their books, while others had already retired for the night.
Edgar plopped onto one of the cushioned chairs with a dramatic sigh. "I don't know about you two, but I feel like I could sleep for a week."
Eleanor sat down beside him, tucking her legs beneath her. "Me too. But I can't deny, today was brilliant."
I took a seat across from them, leaning back as I reflected on the day. "It really was. And it's only our second day."
The three of us sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire flicker and crackle. The warmth of the room, the steady glow of the enchanted flames, the soft rustle of parchment from a nearby student—it all felt peaceful, like we belonged here.
After a while, Eleanor let out a soft yawn and stretched her arms. "I think I'm going to turn in."
Edgar nodded in agreement. "Yeah, same here. Long day tomorrow."
I stood as well, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over me. "Goodnight, then."
We each made our way toward our dormitories. As I entered my room, I found my trunk exactly where I had left it. The room was quiet, the only sound being the occasional creak of the wooden floor as I changed into my pajamas.
Slipping under the covers, I let my mind wander over everything that had happened today—the lessons, the discoveries, the friendships forming.
Hogwarts had already begun to feel like home.
With that thought, I let my eyes close, the warmth of sleep pulling me into the depths of another night filled with dreams of magic and the mysteries still waiting to be uncovered.