Two weeks had passed since Lucan's first lessons at Hogwarts, and he was already finding himself slipping into a rhythm. Early mornings, crowded corridors, challenging lessons, and more than a few late nights spent studying by wandlight.
In the early morning chill, with most students still tucked away in warm beds or eating breakfast, Lucan stood on the grassy slope behind the greenhouses, wand in hand.
He focused.
"Lumos."
The wand-tip flickered to life, casting a pale white light.
"Nox."
It vanished
He furrowed his brow, then turned back toward a loose sheet of parchment anchored by a textbook. His notes were detailed and clean, diagrams, incantation pronunciations, wand movements, all self-written after long hours in the library.
Lucan glanced at the list of spells scribbled on one corner. A mix of beginner charms, minor transfiguration exercises, and even a few defensive spells he'd been sneaking peeks at.
"There's way more magic than I remembered reading about," he muttered under his breath. "The books from my old life barely covered the basics. It's… almost overwhelming."
Still, the work was paying off. He had already built something of a reputation, the clever Slytherin boy who answered nearly every question, especially in Potions, where he had earned a fair number of house points and praise from Professor Snape, much to the Gryffindors' annoyance.
And while Potions was where he excelled, his admiration lay with another professor: ProffesorVariusThorn, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Thorn wasn't warm, but he wasn't cruel either. He was precise, commanding, and spoke with sharp clarity. His green eyes had a constant calculating glint, and his neatly trimmed beard added to the sense of someone not to be trifled with.
Lucan respected that and paid close attention, in every class.
With a stretch and a sigh, Lucan picked up his notes and headed back to the castle.
Inside the Entrance Hall, Darius leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, wearing his trademark smug smirk.
Out again before the sun's warm?" Darius asked. "You're insane."
"Practicing," Lucan replied simply, brushing a few leaves off his robes.
"I figured. You've been showing off enough in class to make even the Ravenclaws hate you."
Lucan gave a dry smile. "Still can't cast Aguamenti right."
"Yeah, but who cares?" Darius said. "You're still way ahead of half the year."
They walked together toward the Great Hall. As they sat down, Darius snatched a few pieces of toast and began stacking them like bricks.
"Gryffindor versus Slytherin today," he said through a mouthful of eggs. "You coming?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Lucan replied, pouring pumpkin juice into his goblet.
As he took a bite of toast, a tall, broad-shouldered boy with slightly crooked teeth and an overconfident swagger dropped onto the bench beside them. His dark green tie was crooked, and he carried the permanent scent of broom polish and sweat.
Marcus Flint.
"Oi," Marcus grunted, reaching across the table to grab a handful of sausages. "You two going to the match?"
"We just said we were," Darius muttered, though not unkindly. "Excited, Flint?"
Marcus grinned, cheeks stuffed. "More than excited. I've been watching the team practice all week. One day, I'll be up there too, smashing Bludgers right into Gryffindor faces."
"You want to be a Beater?" Lucan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Marcus nodded eagerly. "Beater, Chaser, I don't care. As long as I'm flying for Slytherin, I'll be happy. Flying's the best part of this school, hands down."
"You'll need to improve your aim first," Darius said, smirking.
Marcus shrugged. "Eh, that's what first year's for."
They chatted idly for a few more minutes, the Great Hall buzzing louder with each passing second. Lucan eventually stood up, brushing crumbs from his robes.
"I'm heading back to the common room for my notes," he said.
"Already?" Darius asked.
Lucan nodded. "Just want to review a few things before the match."
Marcus gave him a half-wave, already halfway through his second helping of eggs. "Don't be late. I want to hear you yelling when we score."
Later on as they walked across the courtyard toward the Quidditch pitch, Darius spoke again.
"You've gotten us a lot of points, you know," he said.
Lucan shrugged. "I'm just answering questions."
"Yeah, but you don't miss. Not in Potions, anyway."
Lucan gave a slight smile. "Snape likes me."
"He likes anyone who's a Slytherin," Darius snorted. "Still, it's impressive. You'll probably be the top of the year."
"I don't care about that," Lucan replied truthfully. "I just want to learn everything I can."
There was a short pause, and then Darius said, "Hey… can I ask something weird?"
Lucan raised a brow. "Go ahead."
"…Have you ever thought about becoming an Animagus?"
Lucan blinked. "Funny. I was just thinking about that yesterday."
Darius grinned. "See? That's why we're friends. I think we could actually do it. I mean, you're smart, ridiculously smart, and I'm… well, I'm not bad either."
Lucan laughed. "It's illegal if we don't register."
"Exactly!" Darius said, eyes gleaming. "Think about it, sneaking around, seeing things no one wants us to see. We could even use it for real stuff in the future."
Lucan nodded slowly. "We'd have to find the right books. It's advanced magic, borderline dangerous. Also i doubt we would be done by the end of this year."
"So everything fun is dangerous," Darius replied. "Let's at least try. If anyone can do it, it's us."
Lucan glanced toward the cloudy sky as the wind picked up. The stands around the pitch were already filling up, green and red banners fluttering wildly.
"I'll think about it," he said.
"No you won't," Darius replied with a grin. "You're already thinking about it."
Lucan didn't argue.
As they climbed the stairs to find their seats in the Slytherin section, Lucan felt a strange pull in his chest, not toward Quidditch, but toward something bigger.