The golden dawn seeped through the scarlet curtains of the Gryffindor dormitory. Elias Blake had been awake for over an hour, seated at the edge of his bed with a quill in one hand and his journal open on his lap. Occlumency, even at its most basic level, had already begun to steady the clutter of his thoughts.
He glanced at the clock. 6:50 AM.
Today was their first official class—Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.
Across the room, Harry Potter was sprawled diagonally across his bed, snoring softly. Ron Weasley was tangled in his sheets, arm hanging off the side like a puppet with cut strings.
Elias sighed, standing. "Oi. Wake up, both of you," he said, firm but not unkind.
Ron groaned and buried his head deeper into the pillow.
Harry mumbled, "Five more minutes…"
Elias frowned. "You're going to be late. McGonagall doesn't tolerate tardiness."
No use.
He left them, washed, dressed, and made his way to the Great Hall, where he ate quickly, then headed early to class.
🦁 Transfiguration Begins
Professor McGonagall's classroom felt like a cathedral of discipline. Everything had an order: the rows of desks, the chalkboard's perfect handwriting, even the light falling in tidy bars across the floor.
Hermione Granger, of course, had arrived before him and was already in her seat with her textbook open, reading with the intensity of a scholar preparing for war.
Elias took a desk near the front.
A few more students trickled in, and just before the bell rang—no Harry. No Ron.
Professor McGonagall's lips tightened like drawstrings.
Five minutes passed.
Then—
SLAM.
The door flew open. Harry and Ron stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, faces flushed, robes askew.
"S-Sorry, Professor!" Harry panted. "We overslept—"
"I tried to wake them," Elias said calmly, not looking up from his desk. "Twice."
McGonagall's eyes darted to Elias, then to the panting pair.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," she said icily. "Each. And detention if it happens again."
Ron muttered something under his breath.
"Mr. Weasley?"
"Nothing, Professor."
They shuffled to their seats, embarrassed.
Hermione leaned over and whispered, "You tried waking them? You must have a patience potion hidden somewhere."
Elias smirked. "They sleep like trolls under a Stunning Spell."
🪄 Transfiguration Practice
McGonagall instructed the class to attempt turning matches into needles. A difficult task, but a classic first test.
Elias, newly bolstered by his Occlumency Level I, felt a rare clarity of focus. As he whispered the incantation, the wand in his hand responded eagerly.
His match shimmered—solidified—reshaped into a clean, glinting needle.
Hermione's transfiguration was close but not quite perfect; her needle had a slight curve. She scowled but didn't give up.
Harry managed a dull thimble instead of a needle. Ron's match only turned silver and wobbled uncertainly.
Professor McGonagall passed by Elias's desk. She paused, picked up his transfigured needle, and examined it with a raised brow.
"Well done, Mr. Blake. Very well done indeed."
Hermione beamed at him. Harry and Ron looked… impressed, if slightly envious.
Elias simply nodded.
🧙♀️ McGonagall's Thoughts
As the students practiced, McGonagall stood at the front, arms crossed, watching Elias and Hermione.
A Blake and a Granger. Both gifted in entirely different ways. But both hers.
Maybe, just maybe… this was the year Gryffindor returned to form.
Then, as she reached her desk, a memory resurfaced: the two letters. One delivered to Elias during breakfast. The other… to Dumbledore.
📜 Cassian Blake's Letters
The first was harsh, delivered by a regal black owl. Elias had read it silently, eyes unmoving, then folded it and tucked it away.
"A Blake does not belong in Gryffindor. You shame your name."
The second letter was worse. Official. Formal.
"I request a reassignment of my son to Slytherin House, where his bloodline and magical heritage will be properly fostered."
McGonagall had read it in the staff meeting and burned with quiet rage.
But what amazed her most was Elias's response. He read both letters. Then looked to her and said, clearly:
"I don't want to be anywhere else."
🔥 Later in the Common Room
That night, Elias sat by the fire with his journal again. Across the room, Harry and Ron were whispering about Flitwick's charm lesson tomorrow, clearly trying to avoid Hermione's suggestion that they pre-read Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
"You're mental for getting up that early," Ron muttered, flopping onto a couch.
"You're mental for not listening to him," Hermione shot back.
Elias smirked faintly and returned to his writing.
🌀 Fate Divergence System Log:
Attempted to help Harry and Ron avoid detention. [+2 FP]
Performed high-level transfiguration early. [+4 FP]
Publicly resisted parental pressure. [+4 FP]
Chose self-discipline over peer approval. [+3 FP]
[+13 Fate Points Earned | Total: 27]
Tonight, he would meditate. The early stages of Occlumency required clarity, emotional regulation, and focus.
As the fire crackled and the tower windows reflected the stars, Elias Blake strengthened his mind—and solidified his place.
Gryffindor may have surprised everyone.
But soon, no one would question why he belonged.