After the afternoon Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Loren didn't approach Professor Quirrell with questions. Though this was unusual for him, no one was surprised—after all, Quirrell's teaching was less helpful than simply reading a book.
With more than an hour before dinner, Loren and Hermione went to the library. Hermione had already finished her last borrowed books and needed new ones, while Loren wanted to research weather charms.
After dinner came Astronomy class. Astronomy was a core subject from first to fifth year, though rarely mentioned. It was distinct from Divination—astronomy focused on the movement and positioning of stars and planets, while astrology belonged to Divination.
In essence, it was stargazing. Students used telescopes to study the night sky while Professor Aurora Sinistra taught them the names of stars and the motions of planets.
Most students didn't care much about the subject. Though required for their O.W\.L.s, it wasn't difficult, nor did it influence most careers.
Loren, however, was fascinated. Perhaps a remnant of his past life, he was forever drawn to the mysteries of space.
After class, he even wanted to continue discussing astronomy with the professor, but she declined—by then it was nearly midnight, and astronomical observations could only be done at night.
Clusters of students wandered back to the castle, wands lit with Lumos, openly enjoying a late-night stroll through Hogwarts' halls.
…
The next day—Thursday—began with Charms and History of Magic in the morning, followed by Transfiguration in the afternoon.
Because of the upcoming Charms test, Ron barely touched his breakfast. He listlessly stared at Neville devouring his food, twirling noodles around his fork without lifting them to his mouth.
The cause of his misery was Professor Flitwick's quiz. Ron's Lumos spell was still inconsistent at best.
Originally, Ron comforted himself that he wasn't alone—especially since Neville had also struggled. After Loren had pointed out their wand issues, Ron considered him a fellow sufferer.
But the previous night, after Astronomy, when students lit their way back with Lumos, nearly everyone managed smoothly. Even Neville, Ron's "comrade-in-struggle," had no trouble. Ron, meanwhile, only succeeded after several tries.
The look Ron gave Neville then was full of betrayal: "We agreed to slack off together. Why did you suddenly improve?"
Ron prided himself on appearances. If everyone passed the quiz but him, he'd be the only Gryffindor stuck writing extra assignments—humiliating enough. Worse, he'd have no one to copy from. Writing an essay alone? Impossible.
After breakfast, Ron approached Loren, desperate for last-minute help. A well-fed Neville joined too, eager to seize this chance. Training with Loren each morning had already shown him glimpses of Loren's hidden skill. Usually he avoided intruding on Loren and Hermione, but with Ron as the first to ask, Neville followed suit.
The training had given Neville more confidence—at least enough to fight for opportunities.
So the five of them—Loren, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville—went to the Charms classroom early. Loren coached Ron on Lumos, while Neville previewed the lesson, waiting for his turn to ask questions. Harry, influenced by Neville, opened his textbook to prepare as well.
The pressure of the quiz, combined with the shame of falling behind even Harry, drove Ron's progress. His Lumos grew steadier, and it looked like he'd pass.
In class, Professor Flitwick was astonished at their progress. Normally, it took two weeks before first-years could all manage Lumos. But this group had mastered it in record time. He happily announced they'd soon move ahead to new spells, and promised: if every spell was learned as swiftly as Lumos, he wouldn't assign homework.
The classroom rang with mixed cheers and groans.
Then came History of Magic. As usual, Professor Binns droned from the textbook while students copied notes half-heartedly and whispered among themselves.
Loren prepared to nap, pulling out his "sleeping kit," but was interrupted by a pointed cough. He looked up—Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on him.
Word of his classroom naps had spread, it seemed, and she had come to catch him in the act.
Loren quickly packed away his things and straightened up, pretending attentiveness. Satisfied, McGonagall turned and left without a word. She knew Binns' classes were dull, but Loren's antics had gone too far—this was a warning.
Hermione, seeing his nap foiled, tucked away her new library book and instead whispered with Loren about Transfiguration, pulling matches from her pocket to practice under the desk. After all, they had Transfiguration class that afternoon.
Other students, jarred awake by McGonagall's sudden appearance, perked up too. Spotting Loren and Hermione practicing, Neville joined in. Ron, unwilling to fall behind, followed. And if Ron was in, Harry naturally joined as well.
Thus, under the table, the five of them practiced Transfiguration, turning History of Magic into an impromptu Transfiguration lesson.
…
That afternoon in Transfiguration, McGonagall picked up where she left off. After more notes, she had them continue turning matches into needles.
This time, Hermione succeeded immediately, producing a needle even finer than before. Pleased, McGonagall awarded Gryffindor two points and declared that anyone else who managed a perfect embroidery needle would also earn points.
At once, Loren held out his hand for a match. McGonagall hadn't given him one, knowing his ability, intending to let him do as he pleased as long as he didn't disrupt others.
The Gryffindors burst into giggles, realizing he'd found a loophole in her promise.
Scowling, McGonagall tossed him a stack of old *Transfiguration Today* journals instead, telling him to read. Clearly, she wasn't about to let him collect points so easily.
Loren only grinned, slipping the magazines into his robe. But when he turned, he found the other students watching him expectantly. He gestured toward McGonagall, as if to say, "If she won't give me matches, I can't help you."
The class turned wide, pleading eyes on McGonagall. Irritated but relenting, she handed each student another match and told Loren to demonstrate.
He transformed them all swiftly, distributing perfect needles among his classmates.
Then McGonagall declared, "Now, with Loren's examples, everyone should succeed. But if anyone fails to produce a needle before class ends, you'll write a five-hundred-word essay on the process."
It was a page taken straight from Flitwick's playbook—likely inspired by his lunchtime bragging about his own success.
The students groaned but worked harder. By the end of class, all had shaped matches into needles. Only about a dozen managed full steel needles, the rest achieving partial transformations. Still, McGonagall let it slide.
The students left cheering. Loren and Hermione, however, stayed behind to discuss Transfiguration further in her office. As they left, Loren casually mentioned the Chinese system of frequent quizzes—weekly tests, monthly exams, midterms, finals. McGonagall seemed thoughtful.
Seeing her fall into contemplation, Loren hurried Hermione away, whispering that she should never mention his "advice." He only wanted Hogwarts' education to be stronger, giving students a firmer foundation.
Doing good without seeking credit—that, Loren said, was his guiding principle.
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