I woke to the silence of the Slytherin common room. It was always cool in the Hogwarts dungeons, but in the early morning hours, the air felt particularly frigid. The stone walls blocked the sunlight, and the green glow from the lamps and the quiet crackle of magical torches couldn't replace our sun. But after a little over a month, I was almost used to it.
Lifted my head from the pillow and ran a hand over my face, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. The magic inside me flowed steadily and calmly, as if it were part of my very being. Before the ritual, I had perceived magic differently — intuitively, unconsciously, having lived with it inside me since birth. But knowing what it was like to exist without it, I felt it differently now. The more I tried to recall the sensations of my Muggle self, the more vividly I felt something coursing through my body, passing through every part, especially strong in my chest, right at its center.
The magical energy within was something I could no longer imagine living without. It would be like life without a heart. Imagine living peacefully, and then suddenly you get a heart; you'd easily notice its beat or how blood flows through your veins… in short, the difference was impossible to miss.
I slowly exhaled, slid off the bed onto the cold floor, and lowered myself onto my elbows. I straightened my back again and tensed my abdominal muscles. The plank — I hated this exercise, but it was so damn useful.
Started doing planks after I crossed the threshold of twenty push-ups. After a plank, the body is tired, so the load on the muscles during push-ups feels greater, as some muscles are already fatigued.
I focused on the sensations — the familiar burning in my shoulders and arms, my stomach, and my back. The plank was another exercise from that other life, one I had unsuccessfully tried to make a habit. Unlike push-ups, it never stuck. I hope it works out here.
Even if magic gives me almost limitless possibilities, a strong and healthy body certainly won't be superfluous. Of course, I'm sure there's a way in the magical world to become physically stronger through magical arts, but I was also doing this for discipline. Fortunately, the closed boarding school environment encouraged discipline. I managed to be very productive. And that line — 'a sound mind in a sound body' — kept flashing in my memory.
When my muscles began to tremble, I smoothly transitioned into push-ups. About two minutes. Maybe a little less, and if not for mental fortitude, I wouldn't have lasted nearly as long.
One. Two. Ten. Eighteen… And I collapsed, powerless, onto the floor of the room. Luckily, my roommates were sleeping so soundly that even a Bombarda next to them wouldn't have made them stir.
It was simple: once every three days, I did one more push-up. That was my whole secret. Of course, after introducing the plank, the number of repetitions decreased, so I was working my way back to the coveted twenty.
Since childhood, I'd been told that a wizard's body was generally a bit sturdier than a Muggle's. Just a bit, but sturdier. So achieving this result in a month didn't impress me much — I had expected more.
When I finished my short workout, I wiped my forehead with my palm and hurried to the shower. After a quick shower, I got dressed, took my wand and all the necessary textbooks, and left the common room. Ugh… how I hate Wednesdays… because today we have boring Magical History — thanks to Binns — and a double Potions class.
Recently, someone threw something into my cauldron, and it started boiling so violently that the spoiled, extremely hot potion splattered everywhere. Meaning, it was thrown with a clear purpose, and they probably even knew what the outcome would be.
The outcome was this: Avery got a minor burn, which fortunately was light, and Madam Pomfrey was able to heal it completely without any marks or scars, and Snape now looks at me sideways — though that might not be a fact… he looks sideways at everyone. At least the spoiled potion didn't have any special effect… Oh, right, and now Snape has started making sarcastic remarks even towards me. And he's my little brother's godfather…
The professor quickly managed to fix the situation — he stopped the violent reaction in the potion with some spell. He also seemed to think I was the one who messed up.
The result: Today, Snape is replacing Avery with a different partner for me. On top of that, for the last few lessons, he's been needling me — being sarcastic in his own style. And I endure it because answering back would be worse for me. What if I answer incorrectly and ruin my relationship with a highly respected Potions Master and, worse, my Head of House? Plus, there's his friendship with my father, which is another factor.
Snape is the youngest Potions Master in the last century, so he's highly respected in certain circles. I don't want dismissive treatment from such a person.
In short, I'm trying to be a goody-two-shoes — doing all the assignments and even more than necessary, answering all the questions, volunteering to chop up all sorts of worms, roots, etc., if needed. And in class, I sit there with a straight face. Though I think the latter annoys him more. I should stop that.
Melissa Rosier told me it was Fletcher who threw it. One of the few half-bloods in our Slytherin year. So he doesn't have a motive himself, but he sits close enough to us. And he's not the brightest. He wouldn't have figured out on his own what to throw or how to do it without Snape noticing. But I know who the little puppeteer could be.
The threads lead to Alistair, with whom I'm engaged in an invisible battle of wits… I'm ashamed to call it intrigue — it's more like childish mischief. But the further we go, the higher the stakes. Why Alistair? Well, he basically recruited this somewhat bold, brave, but easily led guy from the very first days — not as a friend, but as a lackey. Oh, that sounds a bit vulgar… in short, he treats him like a henchman, but the guy doesn't notice it, just like several others in this Yarwood's circle.
But it all points back to him — unless Melissa herself wants to make a fool out of me. But I don't see much point in that for her. In short, they're just kids, but already a nest of little serpents. By the way, I'm not complaining about this day for no reason.
Besides the usual lessons, we have the Astronomy Tower at midnight. Once a week — on Wednesday at midnight — we go to observe the starry sky. Although more often than not, the lesson is canceled due to bad weather or other factors hindering observation. All in all, a strange and dubious lesson, but supposedly useful in the long run.
During the introductory lesson, they explained that it would help us with calculations involving the influence of celestial bodies on certain rituals and specific potions. And rituals are literally everywhere in the magical world, and you can't just wave away potions either, even if I don't have a particular talent for them.
In over a month, we've only had two Astronomy lessons. In short, it's a bit of a drag, but a useful drag in perspective. At least the next day we don't have a first lesson and can sleep in, even if we miss breakfast. It's obvious to anyone that the schedule gap is intentional. That's how it is.
Lost in thought, I walked through the common room heading for the exit. It was almost empty — only two upper-year students, half-asleep, sat over their textbooks, apparently already swamped with work.
Despite the meager number of spells we were covering — at least this year — there was a ton of homework. McGonagall especially loved assigning it. We literally went to every lesson either with a report, or a comprehension assignment, or an essay, and often two of those together. By the way, for the extra assignment, she gave us two points each, while rumors say she gives the Gryffindors three.
Though these rumors come from our lot, so they aren't very reliable. But without a doubt, there is a certain bias against us Slytherins. But only a tiny bit… probably.
Of course, I was good at writing all kinds of texts, including essays. Given the colossal experience after 11 years of school, final essays, the Unified State Exam, and dozens of proofs in various mathematical disciplines, a regular essay just made me laugh.
And even though it wasn't hard to write an essay after reading the required topic a couple of times, all the subjects combined created noticeable pressure for those who didn't do their homework on the very day it was assigned — which we did.
I was also helping Avery and Cassius, plus a few new acquaintances lately. This way, they spent less time and effort, and they tried to help me in return. I could have managed without them, even faster, but such small things help cement my image as a friend and an older comrade in their eyes. I also understand the topics better. There's a reason people say that you never forget something you've explained to someone else.
Free time was scarce. After all, I was aiming for 'Outstanding' grades, and I was also training — practicing all the learned spells until they became automatic. Mostly, of course, these were the ones I had learned at home, but my arsenal had already gained a few interesting spells.
Leaving the corridor, I headed to another part of the dungeons where the classrooms were. I was enjoying this moment. Soon, everything here would be filled with students — some sleepy and uncommunicative, some already arguing about something with friends, and some just tipsy. For now, the castle seemed to belong only to me.
When I first started and realized that the first-year curriculum required us to learn only 12 mandatory spells, most of the useful ones I already knew thanks to homeschooling… I decided that wouldn't do. This month would have been almost wasted if I didn't even practice what I already knew.
So there was an urgent need to train. I wasn't satisfied with my current helplessness, and if you're dissatisfied with something in the magical world, you need to become a skilled enough wizard to "shatter" that something against some Fiendfyre.
The Room of Requirement would have been a good option, but finding it in the huge castle was almost impossible, especially since I had almost no clues. Only that there was some painting near it, either with trolls or ballerinas…
So, I had to make do with something more mundane — namely, an old, abandoned classroom in the dungeons, far from students and other classes. And I found such a classroom, so abandoned that even the house-elves didn't clean the dust here. And those guys love to work, their only regret being that there are only 24 hours in a day.
I found "my" abandoned classroom in the very first week. A spacious room covered in dust, old cabinets, tables and chairs leaning with age, and a few overturned desks — though I was responsible for the last part. The Black genes manifesting, I suppose. I don't know what came over me, but unlike Lumos and Nox, I couldn't manage the Banishing Charm non-verbally, no matter how hard I tried. But more on that another time.
The perfect training spot was empty, as always. Locking the door behind me with a spell, I focused. Magic flowed within me, warmth pulsing in my fingers. It seemed my sensitivity to magic had definitely improved.
I raised my wand, aimed at an old, worn-out desk, and said clearly:
"Flipendo!"
A soft clot of energy shot from the wand, its beam hitting the desk, which scraped across the floor for half a meter before tilting heavily and crashing to the floor with a thud.
"Flipendo!" This time, I aimed the wand at the wall, as I always did — no need to completely destroy school property.
This time the spell worked better. With a characteristic snap, the spell beam collided with the wall, but of course, it didn't leave a single mark.
Alright, time to clean up the aftermath of yesterday's destruction. Generally, I trained like this for half an hour early in the morning and another half in the evening — after classes, before curfew.
"Reparo." Slowly moving the wand, I concentrated the spell's effect on the necessary areas.
The cracks on the desk from the Banishing Charm disappeared, and even the splintered wooden pieces returned to their places. After a couple of seconds, it looked as if it had never been battle-scarred.
I smiled at the result, then used Reparo to restore the chairs to their normal state and returned them to their places. I could have done it by hand, but extra practice never hurts.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" After a dozen repetitions of the spell, I managed to eliminate the wand movement. Generally, all these non-verbal formulas in the form of flicks and wand movements were just ways to make spellcasting easier — both in terms of learning and in terms of magical cost and effort.
Flitwick taught us in one of the first lessons that four elements were important to achieve the desired result — i.e., a spell:
1.Non-verbal formula (Wand movement)
2.Verbal formula (Incantation)
3.Mental Image
4.Intent
And an additional, fifth:
5.Emotional Base
If all conditions are met perfectly and the spell's potential matches the wizard's potential, the spell will succeed. The last part isn't very clear, but Flitwick promised to explain it in great detail in our second year.
Of course, this is a simplified version, and again, in older years, it will be covered in more detail, but the basics are clear. For example, in the non-verbal formula — the movement must be smooth, clear, and correspond to the instructions, so it's easier for the mind and magic to understand what is required.
The non-verbal component is the easiest to remove from a spell. However, learning a spell without the gestures (the non-verbal formula) was an extremely difficult task. As for the verbal formula… that was much more complicated.
It's important to understand that any spell can be considered a ritual with special requirements, and words have extremely powerful significance for the world. A specific order of words in special combinations resonates with the magic inside the wizard and with the ambient magic, through a focus.
The focus itself — the magic wand — is an extremely simple but reliable and magnificent tool. Receiving a tiny amount of energy from the wizard and the necessary 4 factors, it uses this very energy to draw in external magical energy and create a full-fledged spell.
This is why, without a magic wand, the formulas of spells change, and the magical cost increases by orders of magnitude. Because of these factors, wandless magic is considered extremely difficult and pointless from an efficiency standpoint. Only powerful wizards can freely use wandless magic without fear of collapsing from exhaustion.
Even with a wand, you spend your own energy on every spell. But if with a wand you spend only 1/10th of the required energy from your own reserve, and the focus gathers the rest from the environment, then without a wand, you have to supply the entire volume of required energy from your own reserves.
So, a spell can be cast even if you have nothing. Because the foundation of a spell is the mental image and clear intent — what you want. As for the emotional base… depending on the spell's nature, it can hinder or, conversely, facilitate and even strengthen the spell. Also, the emotional base is a mandatory element for the basic learning of certain spells. The legendary Patronus immediately comes to mind.
By the way, for the entire first month, we didn't study any spells at all. We only studied all sorts of wand movement variations, safety instructions, the basics of wand spells, types of spells, components, requirements, and so on.
If it weren't for the natural talent and Professor Flitwick's enthusiasm for teaching, some children who hadn't learned a single spell yet would have been very disappointed in the subject and in magic in general. They would have given up. But this way, even if there was a bit of apathy about not being able to perform miracles right away, everyone diligently absorbed everything for a whole month, building a very good foundation for the future.
So far, the only spell we've covered is Wingardium Leviosa. The professor broke the spell down to its components. He analyzed its structure, every individual movement, and even the syllable-by-syllable pronunciation. Then he demonstrated the spell himself a couple of times, corrected every student's movements, and only after that did we start trying.
Generally, of all the professors, my favorites were Flitwick and, perhaps, the DADA(Defence Against the Dark Arts) professor. And if the latter was likable because he taught us not just from books but also shared his combat experience and work as an Auror, then I truly considered Filius Flitwick a magnificent teacher and person… or rather, a magnificent being.
He rejoiced at every student's success and helped every pupil with all his might. And the way he explained topics was simply superb. He was literally passionate about it. It was clear that magic, and Charms in particular, were his passion. Children would describe him as kind, smiling, and eccentric. But despite his tiny stature and thin, squeaky voice, he was known as one of the most skilled charmers and duelists in all of Britain!