The night fell early, the September sky darkening, scattered stars everywhere. Hogwarts castle seemed to hum differently at night - torches flickered in long corridors, portraits whispered to one another, and staircases creaked as if restless. For most students, bedtime loomed, but for Ambrose and the three boys who followed him, the night was only beginning.
Cedric Diggory walked with his usual confident stride, though his eyes darted curiously to Ambrose, who led them through the dim passageways. Oliver Fairbourne lagged slightly behind, whispering loudly about how he hoped they weren't breaking too many rules. And Noah Prewett - ever composed, ever skeptical - kept his silence, though his gaze lingered sharply on Ambrose's back, as if trying to peel back layers of mystery by will alone.
"Are you sure this isn't going to land us in detention?" Oliver whispered again, his voice bouncing louder than he realized off the stone.
"If you keep whispering like that, Oliver, it might," Cedric muttered.
Ambrose glanced over his shoulder, the faint glow of his eyes catching the torchlight. "No one will find us," he said calmly. "The room I've chosen isn't on the map most people know. It exists for those who seek knowledge, not stumble upon it."
Noah frowned. "What does that even mean?"
Ambrose only smiled, saying nothing more.
They stopped before what seemed to be an ordinary stretch of wall. Ambrose laid his palm flat against the stone, eyes narrowing slightly as if listening. A shiver of magic rippled through the air. Slowly, lines of faint gold traced across the wall, forming an arched doorway that hadn't been there before. With a soft grind of stone, the wall opened inward, revealing a chamber lit by floating lanterns.
Oliver gawked. "How - how did you do that?"
Cedric leaned closer, his mouth parting slightly. "That's not a spell we've been taught."
"It's not one you'll find in books either," Ambrose replied, stepping inside. "At least, not the books left on Hogwarts' shelves."
Noah entered last, eyes scanning the room sharply. It was circular, domed, lined with high shelves carved into the stone itself. The lanterns floated without chains, casting warm golden light over a single round table at the center. On it sat a few scrolls, blank parchment, and quills already waiting, as though expecting them.
"This isn't the Room of Requirement," Cedric said slowly. "I've heard of that one, but this… this feels different."
Ambrose inclined his head. "It is older. A place once used by students before Hogwarts was… tidy. When curiosity had fewer chains. I only borrowed the key from memory."
Noah's eyes snapped to him. "Memory? You've been here before?"
Ambrose's lips curved faintly. "In a manner of speaking."
They gathered around the table. Oliver flopped into his seat, bouncing slightly. Cedric sat more carefully, running a hand over the smooth wood. Noah remained standing for a long moment before lowering himself, never taking his eyes off Ambrose.
"So," Cedric began, "you brought us here. What exactly do you want us to do?"
Ambrose looked at each of them in turn, his gaze steady. "Learn. Together. But not the way classes teach you. Hogwarts shows you charms, potions, transfiguration - all valuable. Yet those are fragments. Pieces of a whole. I want us to look at the whole."
"The whole of what?" Oliver asked, head tilting.
"Magic," Ambrose said simply. "Its roots. Its branches. The truths buried beneath centuries of fear and convenience."
Oliver blinked, then grinned. "That sounds brilliant."
Cedric leaned forward. "And how do you expect us to do that?"
Ambrose's eyes glimmered. "By questioning. By practicing. By daring to look where others don't."
He reached into his robe and withdrew a scroll. The parchment was old, edges frayed, but the ink upon it gleamed faintly as if alive. Ambrose unrolled it across the table. Strange symbols danced across its surface-curves and spirals that shifted when the eye tried to follow.
Oliver leaned in, squinting. "That's not English."
"No," Ambrose said. "It's older. This script is from Sumer. A charm for binding water into shape."
"Binding water?" Cedric echoed.
Ambrose gestured to a jug on the side shelf. Amma had placed it there earlier, filled with fresh water. He poured it into a basin at the table's edge. The lanternlight caught the ripples.
Then Ambrose spoke a word in the strange tongue - low, resonant, almost like a hum - and the water stilled. Slowly, impossibly, it rose upward, curling into the shape of a serpent made entirely of liquid. It coiled, swayed, and then froze midair as though sculpted from glass.
Oliver's mouth fell open. Cedric sat back in stunned silence. Even Noah's mask cracked for the briefest instant.
"That-" Oliver stammered. "That's bloody brilliant!"
Ambrose murmured another word. The water-serpent dissolved back into liquid, splashing softly into the basin.
Cedric found his voice first. "That wasn't a charm we know. It wasn't even Latin."
"Not all magic speaks Latin," Ambrose said calmly. "Much of it has been lost. But lost does not mean gone."
Noah leaned forward slowly. "And where did you find that scroll?"
Ambrose looked at him, unblinking. "It was left in trust. By those who came before me."
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Noah searched Ambrose's face, as if trying to detect deceit. But Ambrose's gaze was steady, calm, unwavering.
Oliver finally broke the silence. "So, what, you want us to learn magic like that? Ancient magic?"
Ambrose shook his head gently. "Not just to learn it. To understand it. To see how magic flows through everything. Most wizards cast spells as if they're commands. Do this. Change that. But magic is not a servant. It's a river. If you treat it as such, you can flow with it. Shape it. Learn from it."
Cedric leaned forward, fascinated. "And you can teach us how?"
"I can guide you," Ambrose said. "But you must learn yourselves. This is not about repeating my steps. It is about finding your own."
Noah's voice was low, skeptical. "And why us? Why invite us to this… circle of yours?"
Ambrose's smile was faint, but genuine. "Because I believe each of you has more potential than the walls of a classroom will ever allow. Cedric, you have discipline. Oliver, you have heart. Noah…" He paused, his gaze meeting Noah's. "You have clarity. Skepticism that cuts to truth. Together, you could see farther than most wizards ever dream."
Oliver beamed at the compliment. Cedric flushed faintly, though his eyes gleamed with pride. Noah held Ambrose's gaze for a long, tense moment before finally looking down.
The rest of the night passed in questions, arguments, and laughter. Ambrose showed them small fragments - symbols that glowed faintly when traced, a charm to sharpen hearing, a rune that caused quills to write smoother. Each time, the others attempted, failing at first, then slowly beginning to mimic the results.
Oliver's water serpent collapsed into a splash that drenched Cedric's sleeve. Cedric scowled, though he couldn't quite hide his grin. Noah managed to hold a shape for three seconds, the snake's head trembling before collapsing. His expression was unreadable, though a glimmer of pride touched his eyes.
"Again," Ambrose urged softly. "Each attempt matters. Each failure teaches."
By the time the clock struck near midnight, they were exhausted but alive with excitement. Oliver could barely stop bouncing in his seat. Cedric looked contemplative, already planning how he'd practice. Noah remained quiet, but his eyes burned with thought.
Ambrose rolled up the scroll, tucking it away. "This is the beginning," he said quietly. "But if we are to continue, there must be trust. What we do here is not to be spoken of outside. Agreed?"
Oliver nodded instantly. "Of course."
Cedric hesitated, then nodded as well. "Alright. Agreed."
Noah met Ambrose's gaze once more. After a long pause, he inclined his head. "One step at a time. But yes.."