The first lesson of the term was Transfiguration, and as Richard stepped into the classroom, he was greeted by the faint scent of chalk and polished wood. The tall windows let in streams of autumn sunlight, casting long beams across the orderly rows of desks. There was a quiet hum in the air, a mix of nerves and anticipation from the students, for this was not an ordinary class.
At the front of the room stood Professor Albus Dumbledore. His long auburn hair caught the light, and his eyes, a piercing yet warm blue, twinkled with a kind of knowing amusement. Unlike most professors, Dumbledore did not command silence; the room simply quieted as soon as he raised his hand.
"Welcome, second-years," he said in a voice both calm and resonant, as if he were telling them a story. "Transfiguration is not merely about changing the shape of things. It is the art of transformation itself, of seeing what something can become, and guiding it there without forcing it. Today, we take a step closer to that understanding."
The students leaned forward, captivated. Dumbledore smiled faintly, as if pleased with their attention. "You will attempt something most of you will find… challenging. An animate-to-inanimate transformation. The living carries will and motion; to still it without breaking it requires patience and finesse."
He waved his wand casually, and a small bird appeared on his desk. With a subtle flick, it shimmered, folding in on itself until it became a delicate silver cage, still warm to the touch. A murmur of awe spread through the room.
"See it in your mind first," he instructed. "And only then, let your magic follow."
Richard sat straight, hands folded neatly as he studied the wooden button before him. Around him, the class shifted nervously; Colin bit his lip, Arjun steadied his wand, and Malcolm muttered something about the difficulty of the task.
When Dumbledore gave the word to begin, the classroom erupted in whispers of incantations and the crackle of unstable magic. Mice that had appeared on the tables turned to warped lumps of metal, chairs sprouted fur and meowed before collapsing, and several objects gave off smoke.
Richard, however, took his time. He pictured the transformation completely in his mind, each detail precise. Then, with a fluid motion, he flicked his wand.
The mouse shimmered, and in a breath it became a perfect silver coin: no smoke, no sound, just seamless transformation.
Dumbledore approached silently, his long robes brushing the floor. He picked up the coin, turning it over in his hand with a curious smile. "Remarkable control, Mr. Magus," he said, his tone soft yet unmistakably approving. "It is not just the spell you cast, but the understanding behind it that makes it so complete."
For the briefest moment, Richard met Dumbledore's gaze. In those blue eyes, there was not just approval, but something else, an interest, a quiet recognition.
"Five points to Slytherin," Dumbledore added, placing the coin back on Richard's desk.
Richard packed his things calmly when the bell finally rang, his expression as composed as ever, though he felt the weight of those stares following him out of the room.
Dumbledore's gaze lingered on his back as he left, thoughtfully.
The corridors leading to the Charms classroom buzzed with excited voices. Students were still murmuring about Dumbledore's intense Transfiguration lesson. Arjun was animatedly retelling how his bird had nearly flown into Malcolm's face mid-transformation, earning a laugh from Colin.
When they entered the Charms classroom, the smell of parchment and chalk greeted them. The room itself was arranged neatly, rows of desks facing a wide blackboard where intricate diagrams of spellcasting arcs were already drawn in flowing script.
At the front stood Professor Sylvester Bristlecone, a tall and wiry wizard with sharp features and greying hair tied back at the nape. His green robes shimmered faintly, and his eyes gleamed with an intensity that promised no nonsense. Bristlecone radiated precision and authority.
"Seats. Now." His voice was low but carried to every corner of the room, cutting through the chatter. The students scrambled to obey.
Once the silence settled, Bristlecone clasped his hands behind his back and began.
"Second-year Charms is not for the careless. You will learn spells where the slightest mistake can disarm or maim you. Today, we begin with Expelliarmus, the Disarming Charm. Simple in theory. Devastating in execution. It is not power that makes this charm effective; it is timing."
He strode between the rows, his robes swishing. "A disarming spell does not rely on brute force. You must anticipate your opponent's intent and strike at the exact moment their guard is weakest. To cast too soon or too late is to fail."
His wand flicked effortlessly, and with a single word, "Expelliarmus!", the wand of a startled Ravenclaw boy flew from his grip and landed neatly in Bristlecone's hand. The professor caught it without looking.
"See?" he said, returning the wand. "Clean. Controlled. Not excessive."
The class was divided into pairs to practice. Wands were raised, spells shouted, and the room quickly filled with a chorus of red flashes. Some students fumbled, their spells fizzling or missing entirely. Others cast with too much force, sending wands clattering wildly across the room.
Richard stood opposite Arjun. They exchanged a glance, an unspoken agreement, and began.
Arjun's first attempt was intense but sloppy; Richard sidestepped, his expression calm. When it was his turn, he moved with precision. His wand barely flicked, his voice soft but commanding:
"Expelliarmus."
The spell shot forward, a tight beam of red light that struck Arjun's wand cleanly, ripping it from his grip and sending it spinning neatly into Richard's free hand. He caught it without looking at it, his eyes already back on Arjun.
"Perfect form. Clean execution," Professor Bristlecones said, his voice carrying the weight of approval rarely given. "Your understanding of the spell is already complete. Well done, Mr. Magus. Five points to Slytherin."
Around them, students resumed casting, some with renewed determination, others stealing glances at Richard as they worked. Colin grinned broadly when he finally managed to yank Malcolm's wand from his hand, though Malcolm scowled in return.
By the end of the lesson, the room was littered with wands and scattered pride. Professor Bristlecone dismissed the class with a sharp, "Practice until your timing is instinct. You will need it."
Richard left the classroom with his friends, calm as ever.
The Great Hall buzzed with life as students poured in. Golden platters appeared with roasted chicken, bread rolls, and steaming soup. Richard sat with his friends at the Slytherin table, the green banners above catching the light from the floating candles.
They spoke quietly, discussing the lessons. Colin tried to imitate Richard's wandwork with a fork, earning a sharp look from a prefect. Arjun leaned in, discussing strategies for upcoming spells, while Elliot simply listened, absorbing every detail.
Richard ate little, his eyes occasionally flicking to the Ravenclaw table where Caroline sat reading while she ate. She glanced up once, meeting his gaze with a small smile before returning to her book.
Once lunch was over, they headed to the next lesson.
The History of Magic classroom was cold despite the torches lining the walls, their flames dimly illuminating shelves stacked with crumbling scrolls and ancient tomes. The scent of dust hung in the air like a lingering fog. Students filed in slowly, already fighting yawns as they sank into their seats.
Professor Binns drifted through the blackboard without warning, his spectral form hazy and indistinct. He began speaking mid-sentence, as always, his voice as monotonous as a soft wind rattling old shutters.
"-and so, following the disbandment of the Ancient Court of Sorcerers, the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards was established in the early ninth century as an attempt to unify wizarding governance across the continent…"
His words flowed like a drone, steady and dull, yet Richard's eyes sharpened with focus. While other students slumped in their chairs, he sat upright, quill poised.
The lesson detailed how the Assembly formed after centuries of unregulated magic caused chaos among wizarding communities. Composed of delegates from various magical territories, it was a fragile attempt to impose order, one that was riddled with political intrigue, betrayals, and assassinations masked as duelling accidents.
Beside him, Elliot peeked over at the page and began mimicking Richard's notes, his own notes failing to copy the same precision. Across the table, Malcolm groaned softly, his head nearly hitting the desk.
"This is torture," he whispered.
Colin snorted under his breath. "You say that every class."
Richard ignored them. His mind was elsewhere, tracing how the Assembly's manipulation of magical law had shaped wizarding society for centuries.
When Professor Binns' droning voice rose with a rare question, it startled half the class awake.
"Can anyone tell me the most significant ruling passed by the Medieval Assembly that affected the relationship between wizarding and Muggle populations?"
Silence followed. Heads lowered. A Ravenclaw hesitated, but no answer came.
Richard spoke, his tone calm and precise.
"The Statute of Secrecy's precursor, the Statute of Order, was passed in 1289. It restricted public magical displays and laid the groundwork for the full statute centuries later."
The ghost paused, his form flickering faintly. "Correct, Mr. Magus. Five points to Slytherin."
Students stirred, a few glancing his way. Richard dipped his quill back into ink without comment, finishing his notes with the same controlled rhythm.
By the end of the lesson, the room looked drained, but Richard's parchment was alive with lines connecting events and names, almost like a web.
The climb to the Astronomy Tower felt endless, the spiral staircase winding upward into the crisp September night. Each step echoed softly, the chatter of students fading as the sky opened up above them. When they finally emerged onto the tower platform, the view stole the breath of even the most jaded second-years. The stars stretched endlessly, glittering like scattered diamonds across an inky canvas. A pale moon cast silver light over the stone floor, washing the students in a cool glow.
Professor Twigs stood near the largest telescope, his dark robes rippling slightly in the night breeze. His eyes reflected starlight as he raised a hand toward the sky.
"Tonight, we track the movement of Jupiter's moons. You will chart their alignment against the surrounding constellations and record any shifts. Precision is everything." His voice carried the calm authority of someone who had spent his life under the stars.
Students shuffled to their telescopes, their breath misting in the cool air. The instruments gleamed under the moonlight, each one angled toward the brilliant gas giant in the distance.
Richard set his telescope with measured movements, his fingers steady despite the chill. He peered through the lens, the sky snapping into sharp focus. He began recording positions with swift, practised strokes, his chart taking shape with the precision of a craftsman.
Around him, others struggled. Colin muttered curses as his telescope shifted off target.
"Bloody thing won't stay still."
Arjun smirked, leaning over just enough to nudge the adjustment knob. "You've been twisting it the wrong way."
Colin groaned but managed to get the planet back in sight.
Elliot worked silently beside them, his notes neat and ordered, glancing occasionally at Richard's flawless chart for confirmation. Malcolm, however, had given up on finesse entirely, scribbling down estimates and grumbling about the cold.
Richard's pen paused only briefly as he acknowledged them with the faintest flicker of thought, then continued. Each marking on his parchment was deliberate, clean, capturing not just the positions but the rhythm of the moons' dance.
Professor Twigs moved among the students, correcting angles and offering quiet advice. When he reached Richard, he leaned over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the page. The faintest smile tugged at his lips as he nodded once.
"Excellent detail, Mr. Magus. 5 points to Slytherin."
His words hung in the air as he moved on.
As the lesson drew to a close, students packed up their telescopes with clumsy fingers, shivering slightly under the chill breeze. Richard closed his chart, the ink dry, and slipped it into his satchel. The cold air bit at his skin as he stepped to the edge of the tower for a brief moment, gazing out over the grounds bathed in moonlight. The Forbidden Forest loomed dark and endless, while the Black Lake shimmered faintly under the stars.
When the class finally descended the staircase, Richard lingered for a heartbeat longer, letting the night sky settle into his memory like a map.
The Great Hall glowed warmly when they returned, filled with the smell of roasted meats, vegetables, and rich desserts. Students laughed, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of youthful energy.
At the Slytherin table, Richard sat with his friends, quietly discussing the constellations and sharing brief observations about the other houses. Caroline passed by on her way to Ravenclaw's table, and Richard inclined his head slightly. She returned the gesture with a small smile.
The day wound down, but for Richard, it had only reinforced what he already knew.
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