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Chapter - 2: A World of Mystery
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The first lessons had finally ended, and I knew that Professor Snape was still in his laboratory, probably busy sorting ingredients or jotting down some notes in his register.
He was methodical in these things, and I doubted he would leave the dungeons before dinner, always striving to maintain his stock of ingredients in perfect order, fully aware of the value and rarity of many of the substances he used.
I couldn't blame him: some of those essences were incredibly expensive and hard to find. A mistake in cataloging or a simple distraction could mean the loss of valuable materials from some bold students, and Snape was certainly not the type to be generous.
The headache, however, had slightly lessened, and I tried to ignore it, convincing myself that there was always something to learn from suffering, or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.
Clutching my wand between my fingers, I tried to get used to its presence. A simple gesture, almost trivial, yet I could clearly feel its loyalty, accepting me as its master.
Yet, a question kept haunting me: was this connection limiting me? I thought about the Obscurials, young witches and wizards who, unable to control their repressed magic, developed an Obscurus, a dark and uncontrollable force. An immense, destructive power.
But anyone afflicted with it lived a short, tormented life.
In the end, I shook my head. No, I didn't want to end up like that. I wouldn't allow my magic to consume me. This was the right path, even if it would take me far longer to acquire enough power to become one of the major players in this world.
After all, that was the reason one started attending a magic school at the age of eleven— or in my case, thirteen. The magic inside us transitioned from an unstable state to a more controlled one, marking the beginning of a period of growth.
From that age until one fully matures, a wizard's ability to focus their magic naturally increased. Even those who didn't practice saw an increase in their magical energy, but those who worked hard could achieve extraordinary benefits.
"Magic is like a muscle." This would be one of the first lessons I'd hear repeated over and over, and for most students, it would be an undeniable truth.
Magical growth was a natural, gradual process, just like any other form of life in this world. It was clear that some had an innate talent far superior to others, especially among the purebloods of the ancient British houses.
I, for instance, knew I still had plenty of time before reaching the limit of my magical potential, that point where my strength would no longer increase naturally.
And if I ever reached that limit, I would certainly find a way to surpass it.
Potions were a viable option.
Perhaps I could create one capable of accelerating magical growth, allowing me to develop my potential much faster. After all, I knew that dragon's blood had numerous uses in strengthening the physical body, so it wasn't impossible that something similar existed for the growth of magical power.
And then, come to think of it, I already knew a ton of potions that could help me. Potions I had never truly appreciated until recently, but now I saw with a new perspective.
Nutritional potions, muscle repair potions, potions that improved endurance, potions capable of refreshing both mind and body like a revitalizing breeze... and many more.
Hell, they weren't even particularly complicated formulas. I was already studying them this year, and next year I would learn to brew even more useful ones, like the Potion for Sharpening Wit and the one for Enhancing Memory.
Two invaluable tools for learning spells faster and retaining information better. Yet, almost no one used them systematically. Was it possible that no one realized how precious they were? "An outside perspective really changes everything," I thought, shaking my head.
Using those resources would have cost me quite a bit, but fortunately, I had full access to the family crypt. As long as I didn't go overboard, I could make use of the money as I saw fit, without having to answer to anyone.
My father, in particular, owned shares in several industries: he held stakes in a prestigious Quidditch team and controlled numerous businesses related to the trade and distribution of various magical goods.
As a result, in recent years, the family had seen exorbitant profits, causing the accumulated interest to soar to impressive levels. In addition to the earnings from strategic investments, the crypt already held a considerable amount of gold, a reserve I could easily tap into to my advantage.
I wasn't particularly interested in Quidditch itself, but the idea of having a say in a team composed of athletic, fit women wasn't at all unpleasant; in fact, upon further reflection, it seemed like quite a significant advantage.
However, in order to fully enjoy such experiences, I would have to wait until I came of age. Only then could I allow myself a well-deserved reward, assuming I was still alive, of course.
Looking back now, I realized just how cautious Theodore had been in the past. I had always feared squandering the family wealth or making hasty decisions that might somehow upset my father.
But now my perspective was changing. I had the means, the knowledge, and the determination to make the most of the opportunities before me. And this time, I wouldn't hesitate to indulge my desires.
And if I truly created something like that, within a few years, my magical powers could increase far beyond that of a normal adult wizard, only to eventually plateau and reach my natural limit as a human being.
Yet, if I found myself in that situation, I would begin to ask myself: was that really the maximum limit? Or was there a way to surpass it? After all, Dumbledore had magical power many times greater than that of a normal adult wizard...
Personally, I would not hesitate for a moment to choose the bloodline route to surpass my limits. It was clear that the first wizards weren't simply born with the gift of magic, but that their existence could be the result of experiments conducted with the blood of powerful magical creatures.
An example that supports my hypothesis is Circe, the famous figure from ancient Greece known for her extraordinary magical abilities, particularly her capacity—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say her curse—to transform men into animals.
Interestingly, Circe is also depicted on one of the famous Cioccorane trading cards, a sign that her legend has been passed down through the ages. This leads me to reflect on another interesting case:
A Maledictus is always a woman, afflicted by a hereditary curse that causes her to gradually and irreversibly transform into a specific animal. At first, she can control this mutation, voluntarily shifting from human form to animal form, but over time the curse advances, making it permanent, leaving her with no chance of ever returning to human form.
If such experiments were truly conducted in the past, it is plausible that they altered the essence of those who underwent them. This would have given rise to new bloodlines capable of transmitting not only magical power but also curses to future generations.
If my theory were correct, understanding magical creatures in depth could have given me the key to break the chains that limited me and would have opened the door to possibilities that, until that moment, had seemed unattainable.
Of course, I wasn't like that disgusting alchemist who had the brilliant idea of merging his daughter with their dog just to create a talking chimera. Honestly, an unparalleled piece of shit... just thinking about it made my stomach turn.
Anyway, I would take everything calmly. There was no rush, especially because the last thing I wanted was to end up like Voldemort. His horrific physical mutations were tangible proof of the fragmentation of his soul and the devastating consequences of prolonged and excessive use of dark magic.
Such a fate was certainly not for me.
Stepping into the courtyard, I paused for a moment when my reflection caught my attention in a nearby window. I moved closer, scrutinizing myself with a critical eye. "Obviously... I'm different."
My appearance had changed from my previous life. At this age, I was taller than I had been then, but not tall enough to surpass most of the other students in my year.
My build was lean and proportional, the result of a lifestyle less physical than my counterpart's, and my fair skin was also much paler since I spent too much time immersed in books.
My dark, slightly wavy hair fell in a disarray that looked intentional, though it wasn't. I ended up unintentionally resembling a certain protagonist from a famous anime series.
My eyes, a vibrant shade of blue—perhaps my most distinctive feature—shone with a light that was hard to describe. "I'm more handsome… but that's hardly a surprise," I thought, as a small smile slowly spread across my lips.
My counterpart had lived a much harder life, full of sports and hardships, while I had stopped worrying about such nonsense as soon as I arrived at Hogwarts, since Quidditch didn't interest me in the slightest, and the muscles I could have developed were just a distant thought.
"I can't do anything about it now," I huffed. Getting stronger took time, and while there were potions that could accelerate the process, I preferred a slower approach—at least for now, I didn't want to ruin myself.
There was time to improve, and I wasn't in a hurry.
As for my face, a smile appeared on my face as I looked at my reflection once again. "Not bad. Could've been much worse." I commented with a smile, as I walked forward.
I made my way to the Great Hall, where the air was already lively with the usual chatter and laughter. The incessant noise of students filled the enormous hall, a constant hum of voices intermingling as everyone relaxed after a busy morning of intense study.
After having a nutritious yet light breakfast—fruit, porridge, and a good slice of bread with some cheese—I felt ready to take on the day.
I knew I needed to improve my diet to build muscle, so I'd reserve the heartier meals for later. With newfound energy, I walked down the corridors of the castle again.
Whistling quietly, I made my way toward the stairs that led to the Charms classes. The long staircase stretched for dozens of meters upwards, leading to Hogwarts' magnificent classrooms.
The mental map I had of Hogwarts proved quite useful since the castle seemed to have a mind of its own: certain parts moved on their own, changing position as if they were playing with me.
It was frustrating, but also fascinating. Hogwarts was not just a building: it was a living entity, mutable, unpredictable. While my memories had prepared me for a certain eccentricity, the castle still managed to surprise me.
Using my magical senses, I picked up on details that would have seemed insignificant to the naked eye: doors that served purely decorative purposes, walls that hid illusions, and secret passages similar to the entrance of Diagon Alley.
Some of these required specific actions to activate, like uttering a particular word, touching a precise stone, or even tapping a certain rhythm with your knuckles—sometimes, even illusions—which made me reflect deeply on the school's founders.
Moreover, the stairs themselves seemed to have a questionable sense of humor: they shifted positions at their whim, turning movement into a nightmare for those who weren't used to them.
But I had to admit, it was kind of fun.
I looked up at the sky while waiting for Professor Flitwick to arrive. Most of the students were early, which gave me some time to observe my potential future allies more carefully.
As I watched the classroom slowly fill, I recognized a few familiar faces taking their seats. The students clustered in small groups, exchanging casual chatter and glances of understanding, while some lazily flipped through their textbooks, waiting for the lesson to begin.
For a moment, I considered interacting with the Hufflepuffs, but quickly dismissed the idea. Not because I had anything against them, but because convincing them to do anything—or even just joining their conversations—would take more time and patience than I was willing to invest at the moment.
Besides, the last thing I wanted was to attract unwanted attention or, worse, give the Slytherins the wrong impression about me, especially considering most of them seemed focused on Draco Malfoy.
It was almost ridiculous how many of our peers rushed to flatter him, hoping to gain favor with his father, a man with direct ties to the Dark Lord.
It seemed everyone was willing to lick his boots just to gain a shred of prestige or protection. Blending in amidst all that servility was far too easy, and honestly, I couldn't help but feel a certain disgust for the scene.
I furrowed my brow slightly as I observed that farce. He wasn't loved for who he was, but only for the weight of the name he carried. Not that it bothered him; in fact, he seemed to revel in all the attention.
Yet, for all his posturing as the prince of blood purity, he was stupid enough to ruin his friendship with Harriet (Fem Harry) and instead surround himself with idiots like those two gorillas he dragged around everywhere.
Would he really prefer to stay in his small, tight-knit circle instead of connecting with someone with real potential? I really didn't understand. He could've just pretended to be less of a jerk.
Fortunately, not all of the Slytherins were so blinded by his father's power. Among us, there was still a natural dislike for those who tried too hard to show off, and respect wasn't earned just by the family name.
Sooner or later, Draco would learn this lesson—or it would be shoved in his face one way or another—because this world wasn't as kind as it might seem on the surface.
For a moment, the atmosphere settled into its usual routine: students found their seats and prepared for the lesson. My gaze fell on the so-called "queen," sitting at the center of her tight-knit circle of followers, casually flipping through her book as if the world around her were merely an annoying background noise.
Sitting in the middle of her circle of loyal followers, she flipped through the book with apparent ease, as though everything around her were of little consequence. Her long, flowing blonde hair framed her face with natural elegance, while her piercing blue eyes, cold yet intense, seemed like precious gemstones.
The makeup was subtle, just enough to accentuate her features without being overdone: perfectly defined eyelashes, lips tinted with a soft color that highlighted her features without making them look artificial.
Her body was encased in the school uniform, but it didn't do much to hide her assets, while a black choker around her neck added a touch of class, revealing a hint of mischief.
Right next to her, there was an empty seat.
Well, at least that would make the pre-lesson a bit more interesting.
Naturally, many would have wanted to sit next to her: a girl of beauty and intelligence like Daphne certainly didn't go unnoticed. One of the first to make a move was Draco, who, with a series of looks, nods, and subtle gestures, made sure that Crabbe and Goyle, with their imposing stature, blocked the way for others, securing that privileged spot next to her.
At least she has loyal friends...
Even among the Slytherin students, there were whispers of a possible marriage contract between the two. It was said that Narcissa Malfoy was maneuvering to ensure their family cemented an alliance, leveraging her son's influence, who could potentially assume the role of the Black Heir.
Draco, for his part, seemed more than willing to play along, convinced that he had everything under control. He wore that pompous air of a seasoned strategist, as if he were pulling the strings of a plot that only he understood.
Too bad it was all in his head.
While he deluded himself into thinking he was orchestrating the situation, I seized the opportunity without hesitation. With a smooth motion, I sat next to Daphne, letting my book fall onto the table with casual disregard. The dull thud caught a few glances, but I didn't pay them any mind.
I opened the book with the nonchalance of someone who already had everything under control and made sure to appear prepared, even though, in reality, I was just trying to maintain my usual image of Theodore as the magic nerd.
After all, somehow, I had to make myself appear more harmless, right?
"..."
I felt several eyes on me—some curious, some suspicious, others simply annoyed—but I ignored them without a second thought. At that moment, I had other things on my mind. The first and foremost was figuring out how to make friends with the people around me, which was my current priority.
I had to admit it—I wasn't the type to go out of my way for these things; I didn't like forcing useless interactions. However, some situations required a bit of social strategy, and if I had to choose, I preferred surrounding myself with people who were worth something.
And as far as I was concerned, this group was among the few in Slytherin who didn't make me roll my eyes every five minutes with all the nonsense they spouted among themselves.
Daphne glanced at me with mild surprise, clearly not expecting a move like this from me. However, she quickly regained her composure and gave me a subtle smile. "Theodore Nott, right?"
"Exactly," I replied. We both came from well-known and influential wizarding families, so it was no surprise that she knew of me, at least to some extent. This small exchange was simply an acknowledgment of the facts, and in a way, it set us on equal footing without the need for any extra words.
Daphne was already looking at her book, searching for the spell they were about to learn. Maybe she was a nerd. Or perhaps she simply didn't want her name tarnished by appearing unprepared.
Daphne was the quiet type, reserved to the point where she rarely took the initiative to start a conversation with me. If I were to describe her with a Japanese term, she would undoubtedly be a Kuudere:
I vaguely remembered that her biggest wish was to heal her little sister, Astoria, if my memory served me correctly. Maybe, in the future, I could help her out to almost certainly secure an alliance with her.
Talking to her and Tracey, I realized they weren't as insufferable as the rest of the Slytherins. Tracey Davis, in particular, was the opposite of her best friend: outgoing, cheerful, with an energy that made her the type of person who could easily make friends with anyone.
Tracey had a natural charm. Her light brown hair and brown eyes gave her a welcoming air, and her accommodating behavior made her far more likable than some of our more pretentious roommates.
However, I noticed that despite being a pureblood, she didn't seem particularly interested in power or status. She preferred genuine friendships, especially the one with Daphne, which she defended with unwavering loyalty.
In a sense, they were two sides of the same coin: Daphne was calculating and cold, while Tracey was sociable and warm. Perhaps it was this very complementarity that made their bond so strong.
Blaise Zabini, on the other hand, was fairly reserved during our conversation, but thanks to my observations and insights, I realized that he didn't care about blood supremacy at all.
In fact, if it were up to him, he'd probably stay far away from all that fanaticism. Unfortunately, not everyone has the luxury of choosing their position, especially in an environment like ours.
This surprised me, considering that in my memories, he would eventually end up siding with Voldemort. Maybe, in the future, something would push him in that direction. Or perhaps this time, things would go differently.
As I reflected on this, my eyes fell on a certain girl not far from me. I couldn't help but notice her, as she sat with an air of complete indifference toward the world, as if nothing was interesting enough to fully capture her attention.
Millicent Bulstrode.
I wasn't at all surprised that no one wanted to sit next to her. Not out of fear, not out of disgust, but for something more basic: no one wanted to feel inadequate in comparison. And, honestly, I didn't blame them.
The boys probably felt some discomfort sitting next to a girl who could knock them out without even trying too hard. And the girls? Well, they avoided her for even deeper-rooted reasons.
Most of them were purebloods, raised in families that placed great importance on refinement, lineage, and especially feminine grace. Millicent? Let's just say she wasn't exactly the epitome of delicacy.
The Hogwarts uniform clung to her athletic frame, but it was clear that the fabric couldn't completely hide her toned, muscular physique. The white shirt stretched slightly across her broad shoulders and arms, giving the impression that, if she wanted to, she could rip it apart with one sudden movement.
Her fair skin was dotted with light freckles, especially on her face, and her short, black hair, a bit messy, fell rebelliously over her forehead. Her eyes conveyed a mix of boredom and detachment, as if she wasn't really interested in magic to begin with.
She was, without a doubt, the perfect definition of a tomboy. And I'm not talking about the romantic comedy version, where all it takes is putting on a dress and letting the hair down to turn her into a Disney princess.
No, Millicent was the kind of tomboy who'd slap you on the back and almost dislocate your shoulder. The type who, if she wanted to, could easily have become a Quidditch Beater or a perfect martial artist.
But what fascinated me most about her? It wasn't just her physique or her "I don't care about you" attitude. It was the fact that she didn't even try to fit in. She didn't try to seem sweeter, more graceful, or more approachable.
She simply was herself, without compromises, as if the judgment of others wasn't even worth a second of her time. I had to admit, this made her damn interesting to me.
I didn't remember her being like this in canon, so it was another aspect I'd have to take into account, reconsidering my expectations and adjusting my approach to interacting with her.
Eventually, the professor entered the room, interrupting the conversation as he swung the door open with enthusiasm. "Good morning, dear students! Please sit down and open your books, The Standard Book of Spells, Year 1, to pages 123 and 124."
He headed to his podium as the students hurried to sit, the classroom's chatter quickly fading, and he cleared his throat before starting with his usual energetic tone.
"Spells," he began, "are the foundation of the magical arts. Today, we'll delve deeper into the theory of spells, picking up where I left off in the previous lesson. And to do that, we'll start with one of the most useful and fascinating spells: Lumos."
I listened absently, aware that I already knew many of the basic concepts. However, I decided to pay attention: even though it was a simple topic, I couldn't afford to be too arrogant and complacent.
"Magic," he continued, "is the art of channeling magical energy through a medium, often a wand, to achieve a desired effect. Think of your wand as a conduit that directs your will into the world. But the wand alone is not enough. What truly makes a difference is the intention, the focus, and the proper channeling of magic."
He flicked his wand slightly, and a series of small, colorful charms began to float in the air, sparkling and chiming softly. "Fascinating, isn't it? These charms represent the components of a spell: intention, focus, and channeling. When all these parts work in harmony, magic comes to life."
Some students exchanged amazed looks, while others nodded, trying to absorb the information. "Now, let's move on to Lumos, the illumination spell. It's especially useful for lighting up dark spaces or, for the more curious ones, reading under the covers without getting caught."
The class chuckled lightly, and Flitwick smiled. "To perform it correctly, clear pronunciation and a strong intention to bring light are essential." He raised his wand and demonstrated the spell. "Lumos!" The tip of his wand immediately lit up with a bright, intense white light.
"This spell is commonly referred to as the lightning wand spell. It generates a light that can help you see in the dark and, in some circumstances, even reveal magically hidden objects. Its counter-curse is Nox, which extinguishes the light." He gave a brief demonstration, pronouncing the counter-curse.
I remained impassive, though mentally cataloging every detail. The Slytherins had to excel in everything, and I wouldn't fall behind—or at least, I would try my absolute best.
I had decided that my superiority would never be about comparison or compromising with others. "True superiority is earned through concrete actions and genuine merit," I thought, firmly believing in this principle.
And that was exactly what I intended to do: earn respect through action and excellence, without needing to prove anything with words.
He went on a bit longer, but I brushed it off. Instead, I focused on a magically moving image showing the movement of a wand and its effect in black and white. Though not as obvious since it involved light, the tones shifted, and I could understand what had happened.
It seemed almost insulting in how basic it was. Wand movements and weak spells—things anyone could master with minimal effort.
'Reveal Magically Hidden Things?' That implies it's not just light, but more of a revelation, like the Skull Lantern from Dark Souls, supporting the exile of Darkness due to the intrinsic concepts behind the two ideas. Light allows you to see in the dark, so a revealing spell would drive away the darkness around you.' At this point, I was just piecing together my thoughts.
"You'll notice that many spells are simply labeled as Charms. By definition, these spells alter the behavior of an object without changing its intrinsic nature."
Flitwick paused, then turned to the class with an encouraging smile. "Now, I want you to pay special attention to the movement of your wands. Watch."
He demonstrated the gesture slowly, allowing the students to observe. I was already mimicking him, making sure to execute every movement with precision. Every detail mattered, and I would never allow anyone to surpass me.
"Now repeat after me... Lumos!" The voices of the students filled the room as they tried to perform the spell.
The only issue with this spell is that they never really explain how it works. They just tell you to follow the pattern, say the right words, and make the correct movement, and voilà.
I can't help but think that in a world like this, simple words and movements shouldn't be able to activate such a powerful spell, unless there's something deeper—maybe some kind of ancient ritual that's been etched into the very fabric of the magical world.
"Lumos!" Suddenly, a bright, pure light sprang from the tip of my wand. Despite the simplicity of the spell, I felt puzzled. It was as if I had just pressed a hidden button in the great mechanism of the magical world, without fully understanding how it worked.
Wand movements, in general, were something I was uncertain about. Why were they necessary? Was it similar to creating a rune, where the "character" is a representation of itself? If so, then why should a Magic World even be mandatory?
"Excellent work, Mr. Nott! 10 points to Slytherin!" the professor shouted, as I was the first in the class to complete it correctly.
"See? With the right technique, you can all do the same," Flitwick said enthusiastically. "Remember, the key is concentration and confidence in your abilities. Now, give it a try!"
The professor moved on to check the other students, particularly Neville Longbottom, who was struggling greatly with it. His form was lackluster, his words distorted and muttered.
Without drawing attention while everyone was distracted trying to produce a result for Professor Flitwick, I avoided using my wand for a moment, focusing solely on the spell's formula.
"Lumos." This time, I wasn't just trying to make the spell work—I was trying to understand its mechanism to the fullest. As I pronounced the words, I focused my attention, trying to sense every slight alteration in the air.
For an instant, I felt a faint tremor, a slight ripple almost imperceptible, as though the energy hesitated to respond to my command and couldn't fully merge with my spell, remaining suspended, elusive.
As if... the world itself had witnessed the casting of my spell? And surely, there were no Gods here to facilitate this sort of thing, right? Because if the answer were a resounding yes, my plans would change drastically.
Well, the logic of my experiment led me to realize that the Lumos spell only worked once I had a focal point to start from. Which... was foolish in the simplest terms.
This shouldn't be the determining factor in whether a spell is usable or not. It's not as if the world itself has an intrinsic concept of Foci, right?
To give an example, even in Black Clover, mages use grimoires to perform magic, but their magical ability existed before they even obtained them. The grimoires don't directly grant magical power; instead, they grow alongside their owner, unlocking new spells as the user progresses and develops their abilities both physically and mentally.
I shouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly... For now, I could say without a shadow of a doubt that it was simply a focal point in the eyes of the spell, or at least that was all I could conclude without conducting further experiments.
I hadn't literally changed anything except for holding my wand. Yet, apparently, it had worked properly. And I was almost 100% certain that with any other wand, it would've been enough to make the spell work.
So, going back to the original question, why didn't it work until I held a focal point? Was it just because I didn't have enough practice to cast spells without a wand?
But that doesn't make sense, considering it had lingered in the air for quite some time. My only clue was that the world seemed to accept my spell, as everything around me behaved strangely when I first tried to cast it.
The spell wasn't manifesting properly. A wand shouldn't be the decisive factor… or at least, that's always what I had believed. It was just ridiculous to think that a piece of wood could completely determine the effectiveness of magic.
Or maybe I was completely wrong. Perhaps my connection to my wand played a bigger role than I had imagined, helping me stabilize the magical energy and complete the final step of the spell.
After all, I hadn't yet fully acquired the necessary skills, or rather, the conceptual authority to cast the spell on my own. Without the wand to balance the magical flow, who knows, maybe the spell would've failed completely or worse, had unintended effects.
Maybe it was the world itself trying to warn me, as if there was a balance I still couldn't fully comprehend.
But for now, I decided to let it go. After all, I doubted I would be able to uncover the truth, or rather, the laws that govern this world, simply by casting my first spell in a class during my first year at Hogwarts.
I gave Greengrass some tips, finally helping her conjure a bright light from her wand. "Wow, the first time and everything," Daphne gave me a smile as she looked at her work.
I smiled simply: "Spells get easier if you focus. Keeping the right focus on the desired effect is crucial." I said it in a light, almost distracted tone, but inside I knew I wanted to make it clear how much my presence could be helpful.
But I had to admit that seeing someone improve their magical abilities thanks to my advice gave me a certain satisfaction, even though I would never admit it out loud.
Meanwhile, I noticed that the Slytherin side of the room seemed generally more composed and confident compared to the Hufflepuff students, who were blending into the background, some visibly frustrated with their failed attempts at casting spells.
A little more uncertain than I expected, but probably one of the first spells they'd ever cast. After all, Hermione was the only one who had managed to practice before coming to Hogwarts, allowing her to bypass the Ministry-imposed rule.
A smile of appreciation on her face, she said, "Thanks for your help."
"Well, we Slytherins have to stick together," I replied, though deep down, I saw it both as a favor owed and a way to win someone over. At this rate, though, I might end up reaching my goal before the end of my first year.
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Chapter- 16: Shocker - Chapter- 17 (Incoming)
Chapter: Interlude - Chapter - 8 (Incoming)
Chapter - 7: Hobby - Chapter - 8: New Hunt - Chapter - 9: Past unknown
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