The Slytherin common room had a whole different atmosphere in the evenings.
The atmosphere was quieter sure, but strangely charged too like the evening brought the whole house alive. Conversations were softer, more serious and careful. Laughter, when it came, was measured, never careless, more performance than actual amusement.
I did not linger at the edges. Couldn't in fact. I had to keep up appearances after all.
I needed to actively show I belonged here. To stand out too much, however, would have been a mistake.
My orphan status lent me some wiggle room, as did my dress and manners.
Thank God for Matron Mary and Josephine and their bullheaded determination to hammer some sense into us boys.
Still there were people that nothing I did could persuade to believe me being their equal,even if I were proved to be pureblood tomorrow.
Marcus Flint and his group for example and in particular, kept staring at me moving around the room.
I caught them often, from the corner of my eye, as I drifted around the room—like all the other first-years did.
Hands shaken. A word here. A nod there.
Questions asked not out of curiosity, but simply to be seen asking.
I listened more than I spoke.
Offered nothing.
Answers had costs. I wasn't yet in a position to pay them.
I didn't truly understand this type of game, and didn't care much for it either. That being said, I most certainly wouldn't lose to anyone if I could help it.
Which meant listening.
Especially now.
We stood at the edge of the firelight, her voice low, my gaze flicking—just briefly—toward Flint and his group.
She caught it.
"Did you know that to have a proper duel, both parties must accept—by word or action. Not so long ago, catching the glove was enough to signify acceptance. Fascinating how most of those laws still stand. Never struck from the books."
She said with an energetic cadence that her utterly bored and sleepy face hid from people further away.
Shit! she caught me,and in a place like this…that could mean anything,unless..
"I agree. It is fascinating," I said smoothly. "As is our Founder's ingenuity. The entrance, for example. Don't you agree?"
I watched her closely,to see if I could balance the scales with this nugget Tweak spoiled for me.
She looked the same as before—bored, distant—but she leaned just slightly closer.
Enough.
"Well yes," she said, voice low. "A properly hidden entrance is a must. Not like some… annoying portraits would ever be enough."
There was scorn there,and confusion.
Yes! Thank you Tweak!
I thought furiously while keeping my polite smile fixed to my face, by a force of habit alone.
I nodded as if I fully understood what she was talking about.
"I've heard it said 'a cunning rabbit has three burrows'," I continued lightly. "Our Founder seems to have taken that to heart. Enchanting not just an entrance—but the very walls themselves."
I let a small pause linger.
"Imagine the planning. And how he must have laughed—pretending it was only ever one specific part of the wall."
Her eyes widened.
Just a fraction too much to be accidental.
"A-all of it?" she whispered. "Any wall?"
I nodded.
Calm and measured.
As if this was all old knowledge and we both had always known about it.
She studied me for a moment.
Then—a small smile touched the corner of her lips.
She gave a slight nod. Her hand lifted in a casual farewell, one finger lingering—pointed, unmistakable.
A point to me I suppose.
And just like that, she turned and walked away.
No doubt already moving to spend what she had just gained.
Dammit that was a close one, better head up to my room while I'm still ahead.
I started to slowly drift toward the first year dormitory and to my private room.
One third-year spoke idly of potion supply shortages to his friends, and how to get some to his contacts to keep his profits flowing.
A group near one of the fireplaces, the same one Marcus Flint was part of. Argued about Quidditch loudly, but their glances betrayed that the match itself was not the real subject. Their eyes followed me still throughout the room.
Slytherin House.
I was beginning to realize, differed from the others in one simple regard.
There was always a transaction taking place.
Daphne Greengrass passed me near the study corner where she just finished conversing with a third year boy leaning at a bookshelf, her pace unhurried, her presence as composed as ever. Our eyes met briefly—the smallest inclination of heads was all to acknowledge each other.
It was enough.
Malfoy, by contrast, held court in the middle of the room, flanked by his two companions.
Bodyguards… or friends?They looked slow. Not just physically. Then again—this was Slytherin. Appearances rarely told the whole truth.
A small crowd lingered around him as he told a story involving his father, a sum of money, and a hired man.
The man—and the money had vanished into the night along with the carpet in the foyer.
"Strange thing," Malfoy was saying lightly. "The carpet wasn't even supposed to be able to fly."
He smiled faintly.
"Father was most displeased in the morning as I pointed it out."
…Did the pale idiot just imply his father had someone killed?
Judging by the expressions around him, I wasn't the only one wondering.
Malfoy, however, seemed entirely unconcerned.
I picked up my pace and slipped up the stairs, letting my smile fade as the strain of the day finally caught up with me.
It had been far too long a day for the first one. I was almost dreading the coming days, as well as eagerly waiting for it. Perhaps I would do better with my mind in order, once I got it ordered
My room was as I had left it.
The mirror behind me reflected the dormitory outside. I tapped it lightly with my wand, and the entrance sealed itself and showed just me and my room
Just a tiny window on the upper corner showed the empty dormitory.
Silence. Real, blessed silence.
Not the curated quiet of the common room, nor the nervous stillness of the mornings in the Orphanage—but the absence of everything except myself.
I loosened my tie, draped my robe over the chair, and set my bag aside.
I rubbed my eyes, then my face.
Smiling all day had a way of exhausting facial muscles.
"Tweak," I said softly.
A faint pop and She appeared.
Much more tolerable than the sharp crack from before.
"I am here, Master."
She stood near the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind her back as if restraining herself from acting without permission.
Her large eyes flicked around the room, searching for imperfections that did not exist, while I sat on the edge of my bed.
"Good evening, Tweak," I said. "Now that the more immediate matters have been handled, we should speak about my plans for the near future."
A small pause.
"And I need to understand what this bond between us actually is."
She straightened slightly.
"I am Master's house-elf," she said solemnly. "Until I die… or Master chooses to set me free with clothes."
She shuddered at the last word.
I raised a brow.
"Is that why you're wearing a pillowcase?"
"Yes, Master Alexander. And no."
She seemed oddly pleased with that answer.
"House-elves in Hogwarts have been more… domesticated since the Great Mistress of the Kitchen brought us here, to care for Hogwarts and all its children. Before that…"
A small, proud lift of her chin.
"…we were quite a menace to wizards."
I watched her carefully.
"We had a different name then," she continued, her tone shifting—more measured now. "But it has been forgotten. On purpose. Names are part of identity, and identity is tied to magic."
I nodded slowly.
"Yes. I understand that."
A small pause.
"But what does that have to do with your… outfit?"
Tweak grinned—mischievous, almost proud—and wagged a finger at me.
"It is a mark of the bond between our kind and yours," she said. "Something agreed upon long ago. Between our ancestors… and one who we call a Dragon Tongue although Merlin is probably a more familiar name for you wizards."
That did not clarify nearly as much as she seemed to think, but it was an interesting tidbit to know.
"The elders say it was decided before there were councils," she added. "Before the Government. Before your kind decided what magic should and should not be."
That only raised more questions.
Questions I was not equipped to pursue right now.
I exhaled slowly.
"So you—and all house-elves—are slaves to wizardkind?" I asked, keeping my tone even.
Tweak's expression sharpened.
She glanced around the room before answering, as if the walls themselves might be listening.
"No, Master."
A pause.
"Not slaves."
Her gaze met mine, unusually steady.
"No more than wizards are slaves to their magic."
That… was not the answer I expected.
"This bond keeps us as we are," she continued. "It prevents us from becoming what we once were."
A faint wrinkle of her nose.
"Some elves misunderstand this. Especially those bound to private households. They punish themselves… for no reason."
She sniffed softly.
"They are not taught properly. They believe themselves lesser."
I leaned back onto the bed, letting my head rest against the pillow.
"I see," I said quietly.
I did not.
Not really.
There was too much here. Too many implications.
I couldn't afford to get dragged into it—not now.
"So," I said after a moment, "for all intents and purposes—you are my helper."
I turned my head slightly to look at her.
"If something is within your power, you will help me?"
Tweak nodded immediately.
"Yes, Master. To help. To guide. To ease your days so you may focus on magic, not the mundane."
A small, almost hopeful pause.
"In exchange… we are allowed to remain in a place of magic. A house that sustains us. Feeds us mana. Strengthens our being."
She clasped her hands together, a faint, almost shy smile forming.
"And… perhaps, in time… have elf-children."
I stared at the ceiling, weighing whether I even wanted to ask.
Tweak either guessed—or felt it through the bond.
"We can have an elf-child in two ways, Master," she said, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. "Either with another elf… or alone, when we are strong enough and the household is flourishing."
She tilted her head slightly, clearly pleased with herself.
"We elves are beings of mana. With enough gathered within us, we can shape another into being."
A small pause.
"Honestly, Master… what were you thinking?"
I closed my eyes and let out a quiet chuckle.
"Tweak, I'm eleven. How would I know how magical beings reproduce?"
I felt the bed dip as she hopped up beside me.
I glanced at her briefly before pushing myself upright.
"Well—thank you for the… thorough explanation," I muttered, more tired than I wanted to admit. "But let's move on to the near future before I fall asleep."
Tweak nodded, her expression softening.
"I am being groomed to be an elder elf," she said, almost proudly. "So I know a bit more than most. I apologize if I was… lecturing."
I waved a hand dismissively.
"No, it was useful," I said. "Just not urgent. We'll return to the origins of elves later."
She seemed satisfied with that—until her gaze swept the room again.
Then she frowned.
"Master must leave work for me," she said firmly. "This is my duty."
small pause then she added more carefully—
"Master is not leaving enough work for me to feel I belong to this household even if it's just you and this room."
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
That… was not something I hadn't considered.
I wanted to practice. Improve. Push my magic.
But she needed purpose.
"You'll handle cleaning the room and my clothes," I said after a moment. "But only on weekends."
I paused.
Then an idea formed.
"Tweak," I said, turning my head slightly toward her, "you're aware of how Slytherin House operates, yes?"
Her ears perked immediately.
"I need information," I continued. "Accurate information. The kind I can trade when needed."
I met her gaze fully now.
"Everything. Gossip. Rivalries. Alliances. And anything I shouldn't reasonably know, within limits of course"
Tweak lit up.
"Oh yes, Master—I can do that!" she said eagerly. "That sounds… very fun."
She leaned forward slightly, excitement barely contained.
"May I have a small book to record it all? So nothing is forgotten?"
I nodded, faintly amused.
Two problems solved at once.
"Of course, Tweak," I said. "We'll review it after dinner each day before I return to Slytherin House."
A small pause.
"If my Housemates insist on playing their games… I'd prefer to have something to answer with."
My gaze drifted toward the wall and the mirror.
"I have no intention of owing anyone anything."
Tweak brightened—visibly and nodded with a wide smile.
"Yes, Master I will be your best spy elf"
Then, with soft pop, she was gone.
The silence returned.
I rolled my shoulders once, loosening tension I hadn't even noticed, and reached for my wand.
Let's start with something physical to shake off the drowsiness first.
I drew the wand and pointed it at the wall.
A brief pause.
Then returned it to its holster—without looking.
Again.
Draw. Return.
Again.
Each repetition was cleaner than the last. Less wasted motion. Less hesitation.
It had been a month. By now, I rarely missed the holster. The draw had always been the easier part—so I added aim. Soon, I would add spells.
I adjusted the angle slightly. Increased the speed.
Faster.
Again.
The wand slid into my hand as if it belonged there—like it had always been part of him.
Then I stopped.
Mage sight hadn't come from nowhere.
It had come from pressure. From excess. From forcing something beyond what it should have been.
That strain had changed me.
So what would controlled strain do?
I turned toward my books. Not the school ones—they were still in my bag. These were the extra ones I bought from Scribner's Exchange
I went through them methodically.
Not looking for something explosive. Not something that would empty my core in a single attempt.
I needed something sustained.
Something that would push me—constantly.
Something that wouldn't overwhelm me… but wouldn't leave me untouched either.
My fingers paused on a worn volume.
Predatory Stalking Charm
Incantation: Instinctus Venator
Effect:
Enhances the caster's awareness of their own movement and balance, subtly guiding them to move more quietly and efficiently while stalking prey.
The charm does not control the caster's body but nudges posture, breathing, and foot placement toward smoother motion.
Over time, repeated use can help build natural muscle memory and field awareness.
Typical Wand Movement:
A slow spiral drawn over the caster's chest.
Notes:
Experienced hunters claim the charm feels like a quiet instinct guiding their steps.
Warning:
Overreliance may dull natural caution. The charm aids movement but does not replace skill or judgment.
I read it once,then again to make sure I missed nothing.
"Enhances awareness of movement and balance."
Does not control,only nudges and builds over time. If its drain isn't bad..
"This seems perfect," I murmured to myself.
Not just useful but ideal.
I stepped into the center of the room,a wand already in hand.
"Instinctus Venator."
A quiet incantation, a slow spiral with my wand across my chest.
The magic settled over me like a second skin.
At first I felt nothing,then… a shift went through me.
Subtle at first.
I adjusted posture —barely noticeable to an onlooker, but unmistakable for me. My breathing slowed. Deepened. Smoothed.
The way my weight rested on my feet changed, distributing itself more evenly.
I took a step.
It felt… right.
Not forced or controlled. More like a master gently guiding my foot on a right placement.
I frowned a bit since I was walking normally, not stalking around like a thief.
Does it adapt to intent?
I tested it.
I need to cross the room quietly.
The next step landed differently.
Softer. Knees bending just enough to offer more nimble movement.
A subtle pull toward shadow—the curtain, the edge of the bedframe.
I began to notice things.
Shadows I never paid attention to before. The way the light dimmed in certain corners.
Where sound would carry—and where it would vanish.
A slight pressure to correct my right leg to a better position. Similar feeling on the left next.
I shifted my shoulder just enough to avoid brushing the bedpost.
I hadn't even realized I would have brushed against it.
I circled the room.
Once.
Twice.
Every step forward needed less corrections from the spell, Each movement cleaner than the last.
More efficient, less noise. I could feel my muscles burning. I was using my body in a way I have never done before.
I stopped next to my table breathing hard but smiling wide.
This is it, the drain on my magic was negligible when I just walked around.
The physical benefits were obvious. Balance improved,movement smoothed.
Even my endurance shifted—no wasted effort, no unnecessary strain.
Although my muscles need some training in the art of sneaking around before I dare to try it in a real situation. Then there's the extra benefit.
The spell lessened my presence.
"…Interesting."
The charm had nudged me to notice more than movement. More than just the obvious.
It pointed out the lines of sight when I glanced at the mirror. Light in the room and how it reflected. Sounds I made and how it carried in the room and then—Something deeper.
Something to do with magic
It's like I stilled. Completely.
The charm remained active—but now that I wasn't moving. It felt more obvious, I just didn't know what, that IT was.
I listened.
"…What is it?" I whispered to myself
It wasn't external. The spell was doing something, something about me.
Like something extending just beyond my skin it was pulling it closer and holding it still.
My magic? No, not magic.
The charm wasn't just correcting my body movements or senses. Especially now since I wasn't moving.
It was smoothing something else,suppressing it even.
Reducing it.
"An aura." I said to the empty room. Not a question, but a statement.
Of course. All witches and wizards must radiate magic.
How else would spells interact with us so easily? How else would presence be felt?
I inhaled slowly then exhaled. I could feel the aura moving with my movements.
Or perhaps my will?I could possibly see it too, with my mage sight?
Now lets focus and test a few more things,before I start to build the foundation of my mind.
I tried pulling my aura closer to my skin. Drawing it inward, and tightening it.
The charm responded and the pressure shrank slightly. I pushed further and could feel resistance this time.
Not strong—but definitely there. It was like trying to grasp something that wasn't quite solid.
"…So it can be controlled." I let it expand again.
The presence returned. It was still subtle but I could easily imagine being able to hide better while pulling my aura inward. Perhaps exert my will if I pushed it outwards. Who knows what happens when auras clash with one another.
A slow smile spread on my lips.
There wasn't anything about this in the book.
Which meant. It was a learned, not taught kind of magic,or this was an un intended side effect kept secret for its usefulness.
"…Good."
I resumed moving, the charm still active—
Now with a purpose, not just to move quietly.
But to become—
Less noticeable. I could feel the charm pull more from me, it strained my magic. I moved only a few steps completely silently then I just stopped.
Sadly I don't have the energy to play with the spell now,so one more test then I move on.
I cast another spell, while the charm was active.
Just a lumos.
My wand lit effortlessly so I tried a few more cleaning spells and none of them bothered the charm.
Good I don't have to be casting it after every class just once in the morning is enough.
I decided to check for the counter charm from the book on how to end the spell.
As soon as I thought about ending the spell it ended.
Now that's convenient!
I rolled my wrist once, feeling the last traces of the charm fade from my body, and let out a slow breath.
That had gone better than expected.
Much better.
But my muscles disagreed.
A dull ache had settled in my legs and shoulders, the kind that came from using them in ways they weren't used to.
Controlled strain on magic was one thing—apparently the body demanded its share as well.
Noted.
I flicked my wand lightly.
"Scourgify."
A thin layer of dust I hadn't even noticed vanished from the floor near the bed.
Another flick and incantation.
My clothes straightened themselves where they hung, smoothing out the creases I had left behind earlier.
Efficient.
Quiet.
Reliable.
I hesitated for a moment, then added—
"Tergeo."
The faint sheen of sweat on my skin disappeared, replaced by a clean, almost cool sensation. Not quite the same as a proper wash, but close enough.
For now.
A proper shower would have to wait until morning.
I exhaled, letting the last bit of tension drain from my shoulders, and set my wand on the bedside table.
Better not sleep with it unless necessary. War isn't here..yet at least. So it's good to enjoy the peace.
I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
The room started to darken immediately.
Foundation. That was the next step.
If strain could shape magic… then structure could shape the mind.
I closed my eyes.
Darkness deepened.
For a moment, there was nothing. I could feel my magic but nothing else.
No room.
No body.
Just… me. It felt really uncomfortable.
I frowned slightly.
Even if I had no face to frown with, yet I still did.
I felt myself standing. Standing in nothing felt unnatural.
So I changed it. I willed it away
A single point of light appeared in the darkness.
Faint and distant.
A memory of mine, I don't know how exactly I knew but I did.
I focused on it, and it sharpened—just enough to recognize.
The orphanage.
A corner of a room. The smell of old wood,soap and antiseptics.
I didn't step into it, just let it remain where it was.
Then another point appeared and another.
Each one was distant. They looked like stars.
They spread slowly at first, then faster as I allowed them to surface.
Moments, fragments, impressions—each taking its place in the dark around me.
Some brighter than others. Some… colder and better left dim on their own.
I didn't reach for those. My mind actively stayed away from them.
I shifted slightly—testing. I wasn't falling. I wasn't drifting either
I was suspended and center of everything, well it was all me, so that much was obvious.
Good enough starting point I think.
Structure could come later.
Now I needed to know what I had.
I slowed my breathing.
Steady and even.
One memory at a time.
Just… placing them how I felt they should be more by feeling rather than any logic.
Letting them exist where I could see them and try to understand them and myself later on.
Somewhere in the distance, a brighter point flickered.
Recent one, more sharp and vivid.
The Slytherin common room. Flint's eyes.
The girl's voice.
The subtle shift of balance in a conversation that could have gone wrong.
I watched it like an outsider, not judging. Just… learning and trying to understand myself.
A slow breath. In and out.
The stars held. The darkness remained.
And for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts—No, even before that.
My thoughts felt… orderly, focused and mine again like they used to.
First step is done.
The thought barely formed before I drifted into sleep.
I woke up fully rested, like I have done most of my life.
I kept my eyes closed until I felt something warm near my hands.
A faint smell of toasted bread and something sweet, and soft.
There was also an expectant presence that although new was familiar enough that I would have known her, my eyes closed and so I did.
"Tweak?Is this going to be a morning ritual from now on? or do you not trust other elves to feed me in Great Hall." I asked amused as I stretched myself and looked at her.
"Yes master I will make sure to feed you one proper breakfast so you can nibble and socialize in the great hall" came her cheery voice, far too smugly.
She stood beside the bed, balancing a small tray with far more care than seemed necessary. On it sat a modest breakfast—bread, something resembling porridge, and a cup that gave off a faint curl of steam.
For a moment, I just stared at her.
"Yes, Master. You must eat before the day begins. It is important for growing wizards." She paused, then added more carefully,
"Also, this is work and you did not say I can't do "
I huffed out something between a breath and a laugh as I pushed myself upright.
"Touché, you're definitely a Slytherin elf "
Tweak preened at that as she lowered the tray in my lap.
I took the cup first, letting the warmth seep into my fingers as I studied the surface of the liquid.
My thoughts didn't scatter the way they had yesterday.
They moved at my usual alacrity, not perfect but mine.
I took a slow sip.
"Better morning than yesterday" I murmured, more to myself than to her.
Tweak watched me with undisguised satisfaction, as if she had personally arranged the outcome, and yes she kind of did.
I ate in relative silence, letting the food do its work while my mind quietly tested itself in the background.
The stars were still there. Twinkling faintly and distant.
just like I had left them.
Good so I don't have to start from scratch each time.
I finished the last of the bread and set the tray aside.
"Thank you, Tweak. Any news from the night?"
She dipped her head, pleased.
"There are a few things, Master," Tweak said, clearly enjoying herself now.
As she pulled a poison green notebook from her pillowcase, and opened it. I managed to read its cover saying" Sneaky book of sneaky things. DO NOT LOOK"
I suppressed a chuckle, it was kinda funny. Since I knew how sneaky she actually is, it would probably be illegible to anyone but her. So the warning was more of taunt than anything else.
"A third-year and a fifth-year Slytherin argued over potion supplies. The older one did not deny taking them… only that he had the right to, since they were poorly hidden and not at all guarded"
I nodded slightly.
"Miss Greengrass spoke with a Ravenclaw boy before curfew. Quietly in a hallway."
Interesting,perhaps it was Terry?
I filed the thought away.
"And Mr. Malfoy told his story," she added, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Several times. It improved with each telling, but not by much."
I huffed quietly, amused.
Of course he did.
Tweak leaned in just slightly.
"And… a Hufflepuff prefect returned late. Apparently, he got lost in the female dormitory… in Gryffindor House."
She whispered the last part, clearly more delighted about this piece of news.
That made me pause and to look at her for a few seconds.
"…Noted."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding one more—
"The Headmaster was awake late. The kitchen elves were asked for cocoa… that disappeared along with a tin of biscuits. Three elves became quite upset, as they suspected other elves were taking their work."
I studied her for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Good work, Tweak."
She beamed.
"I will continue gathering information, Master," she said, already sounding eager. "There is much happening in Slytherin in the mornings."
I glanced at her.
"I don't doubt it."
With a soft pop, she vanished, leaving the room quiet once more.
I sat there for a moment longer, then reached to my nightstand for my wand.
The day was starting.
Which meant another day of magic for me. This time I intended to be ready for it.
The shower was brief but effective, more a matter of routine than comfort. Hot water loosened the stiffness in my muscles, though it did little to diminish the lingering fatigue from the previous night's exertion. Still, it was enough. By the time I stepped out, my thoughts had already moved ahead to what needed to be done.
A quick flick of my wand and whispered incantation dried me, and another straightened my uniform.
I adjusted the tie by hand out of habit, making sure it sat just right. Appearances mattered here, even the small details, perhaps especially those.
I paused in front of the mirror only long enough to confirm what I already knew.
Presentable. Controlled. Nothing that would draw unnecessary attention.
I picked up my wand again, feeling its familiar weight settle comfortably in my hand, and shouldered my bag—only then realizing I had no idea whether I had been assigned any homework.
Honestly, I wouldn't care much,but detention would take time away from learning magic that might one day keep me alive.
"Instinctus Venator." I intoned and flicked my wand in a spiral.
The charm took hold with noticeably less resistance than before. It settled over me with a quiet ease, like something my body had already begun to accept. I shifted my stance slightly, testing it, and felt the faint corrections guiding my balance and posture. They were still there, but subtler now, less intrusive, as though I had already started adapting to them.
Satisfied, I tapped the mirror and stepped out into the empty dormitory.
I joined the flow of Slytherin students heading toward the upper levels. Before long, I blended into a larger group made up of all houses rather than staying with my own.
Hogwarts was fully awake now. Doors opened and closed along the hall, voices echoed from further down, and students moved with varying degrees of urgency.
By the time I reached the Great Hall, it was already filling. The noise felt louder than yesterday—or perhaps I simply noticed it more clearly today. Conversations overlapped, cutlery clattered, and movement never quite stopped.
I took my place among the Slytherins, not seeking anyone out, but not hiding at the far end of the table either.
Flint was there, exactly where I expected him to be, his presence as steady as his interest in me.
Still undecided whether I was a stain on Slytherin House huh? I suppose they could be pondering something else entirely. Doubt it though.
I hummed quietly to myself as I piled some fruit and crackers onto my plate, more to occupy my hands than out of hunger.
To my left, Malfoy was talking again, surrounded by the same small circle of students—mostly first-years—clearly enjoying the attention.
To my right, near the end of the table, I spotted Ms. Greengrass. She sat with Ms. Davis, the two of them leaning slightly toward each other as they whispered.
I did not stare at any of them for long. I just kept taking small bites and looking around.
I ate, listened, and observed. When I noticed my classmates beginning to leave, I followed without question. I had no idea what classes I had or where they were. Yesterday I had been… occupied enough that I hadn't had the mind to memorize my timetable.
So I relied on the simplest method available and just followed along.
Classes followed in much the same manner.
Charms proved straightforward, at least in theory. I suspected that my familiarity with that branch of magic helped me immensely. Though I still had no idea when I would ever need a color-changing charm, I assumed there would be a reason eventually.
The Teacher, professor Filius Flitwick was a tiny man who looked to be part goblin. He fell down from the pile of books during a name call as he said the name Harry Potter.
I assume the books were just stairs transfigured to look like books.
After all he was a head of house Ravenclaw who held the knowledge precious. Why would he walk over his precious books? Even I wouldn't do that, and my appreciation of books isn't on a Ravenclaw level.
He also kept glancing at me every now and again so I suspect my charms usage wasn't a secret from him at all.
It's no wonder, he is a charms master after all.
Next time he looked at me, I gave him a small smile and nod.
He beamed back at me and scurried to help other students. Next class was potions.
Potions held my attention for a different reason entirely.
Not the brewing itself, though that had its own intricacies. No, the Teacher and my head of house Professor Snape gave quite a speech at the start of the class.
He also made it patently obvious even to a dimmest of students. He had no respect whatsoever for the famous Harry Potter, since he asked him several potion-related questions, and when the boy could answer none of them—
"Clearly fame isn't everything now, is it Mr.Potter?" he remarked with a smooth venom filled voice trying to sound neutral but failing badly.
The boy simply shook his head, his face almost neutral. Like this wasn't his first time getting picked on by a teacher.
Good for him,"never let them see you bleed"as Matr..Mary used to say.
Though she admitted her cousin James had given her that particular line, apparently he also worked for her majesty too, but none of us believed that. The principle still stood.
I studied the famous boy from the corner of my eye as I put on the table all the needed supplies.
Potions themselves seemed straightforward enough. Follow the recipe, and you would produce a working result—even if not a remarkable one.
That, I suspected, was where the "subtle science and exact art" Professor Snape had spoken of came into play.
I kept an eye on him as I worked on my potion and noticed he was single-mindedly focused on the Gryffindors. He berated them for even the smallest infraction, yet Mr. Goyle, a few seats from me, was doing his very best to make his cauldron explode.
Sure enough, it wasn't long before a cauldron melted—though not Goyle's. Longbottom managed to melt through his friend's cauldron and spill some of the bubbling potion onto Goyle, whose hands instantly developed painful-looking pustules and sores.
Through it all, the charm remained active. It never demanded attention, but it was always there, gently correcting, subtly guiding. As the day slipped closer to midday, I could already feel the difference. My movements wasted less energy, produced less noise, and drew less notice. Which meant it was working exactly as intended.
By the time Potions ended, the corridors had begun to thin, though never entirely. Students moved in clusters now, heading toward their next lessons with varying degrees of enthusiasm. I let myself fall slightly behind my classmates, neither lingering nor hurrying, just enough to create a pocket of space around me.
It was then that I felt it.
A familiar presence.
I slowed, just enough that it could be mistaken for adjusting my bag, and let my focus shift inward for a moment.
There.
To the left—and slightly above.
I lifted my gaze casually toward the line of armor suits along the wall.
Nothing.
Of course.
I wasn't keeping my mage sight active at all times. I had no idea how it would interact with the charm, and I had no intention of ending up in the Hospital Wing on my second day from magical exhaustion.
I guided a small trickle of mana into my eyes.
There she was.
Standing atop one of the suits of armor, waving at me in an entirely ridiculous manner and pulling faces, clearly hoping to make me react.
I let my gaze linger for half a second longer than necessary, then looked away as if I had seen nothing at all.
"…Tweak," I said under my breath.
There was a tiny, indignant pop.
I wasn't sure how a popping sound could sound offended, but she managed it.
She appeared in front of me, hands on her hips.
"You did not react, Master," she said, sounding faintly wronged. "I waved."
I looked at her, amused.
"I noticed," I replied. "I simply didn't see you at first. Taking the time to activate my mage sight likely reduced the effect you were aiming for."
She considered that, then nodded.
"That is acceptable. It is probably wise not to attempt too many things at once."
She hopped lightly once or twice, then matched my pace as if she had always been there.
We continued walking until we reached a stretch of corridor that stood momentarily empty. An unused classroom door sat slightly ajar to one side. I pushed it open without breaking stride and stepped inside. Tweak followed, closing the door behind us with a soft click.
The room was unremarkable—desks, a chalkboard, and dust no one had bothered to clean.
I leaned lightly against one of the tables.
"Report," I said quietly.
Tweak brightened immediately and pulled out her notebook again, lowering her voice as she began.
"The fifth-year from earlier hid his supplies better. Not well. But better."
She's oddly invested in that situation.
I gave a small nod.
"Miss Greengrass left the common room earlier than the other first-years this morning. Alone. She did not go anywhere specific."
Interesting.
I nodded once.
"Good. Keep watching."
"Yes, Master."
"Next class?"
"History of Magic," she said promptly, then wrinkled her nose. "The ghost teacher speaks slowly and mostly about goblin wars. Self-study would be more efficient."
I sighed quietly.
"Guide me."
She nodded, moved toward the door, and faded from sight as she opened it.
"Show-off," I muttered, amused, as I followed her back into the corridor.
I heard her giggle somewhere near my shoulder.
That reminded me—
"Tweak, could you teach me that spell later."
"I can try," she replied, sounding far too pleased with herself.
We continued toward the upper halls in companionable silence.
We hadn't gone far before Malfoy fell into step beside me.
Alone.
That, more than anything, made me pay attention to him and to my surroundings.
"Enjoying your classes?" he asked, his tone light, though there was something strained beneath it.
I glanced at him briefly, then forward again.
"They are… informative. Some more than others."
He hummed, as if weighing my words on some internal scale.
"I suppose for some people, that's enough."
I said nothing so he tried again.
"Potions can be difficult," he added, in a tone meant to sound casual. "Especially if you don't have… the right background."
I allowed myself a small, polite smile.
"I imagine they can be," I replied. "Fortunately, the instructions were written quite clearly."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then a faint smirk touched his lips—uncertain whether he had been agreed with or dismissed.
"Of course," he said lightly. "Tell me, Hawthorn—have you done an inheritance test at Gringotts? It can reveal your parents. Your magical lineage."
Ah so that was his goal to sniff out the kid whose last name isn't familiar. Was it his idea or did someone put him up to it? hmm
"No," I said easily. "It is my understanding that those tests are quite expensive. My funds are… nonexistent at the moment. Perhaps later, when my situation changes."
He studied me more closely, as though searching for signs of muggleborn in my features, and once not finding any he gave a polite nod and slipped his hands into his pockets.
We walked in silence for a few steps before he drifted away, rejoining his usual group as if the interaction had never happened.
I watched him go for half a second, then turned my attention forward again.
Only then did I notice the tension I had been holding.
The way his hands had moved…I had half expected a wand.
Most witches and wizards didn't use holsters. They kept their wands in their pockets well all I have noticed thus far do at least.
Insane but I guess it's their own business.
Tweak, invisible and a few steps ahead, made a small, pleased sound.
"That went well," she whispered.
History of Magic was exactly as Tweak had described.
Slow, monotonous and almost entirely ignored by every student in the room.
Professor Binns drifted through the front of the classroom, his voice carrying on in a steady, unbroken stream. He talked about goblin rebellions and treaty disputes that had long since lost whatever urgency they might have once possessed.
Most of the class was already blinking tiredly.
Quills scratched half-heartedly. A few students leaned on their hands, barely pretending to listen. Others didn't bother pretending at all, doing homework from other classes or talking quietly among themselves.
I sat near the middle of the room and stopped trying to listen as well.
My attention shifted inward, carefully this time. Not the way I had done the night before, when I had let myself sink fully into that darkness. That had been deliberate, controlled, and uninterrupted.
This would need to be… lighter.
Yet another experiment.
One part of me remained present, aware of the classroom, the voice, the subtle movements around me.
The other—Moved into my mindscape for lack of a better term.
The darkness came more easily this time.
Just a layer beneath everything else. It felt more like a daydream compared to the deep dive of last time.
The stars were still there.
Faint. Ordered. pulsing slightly, I did not linger on them long.
This was not the time to drift.
Instead, I focused on something simpler.
to make sure all of my memories were there and the darkness hid no surprises.
I located two memories that weren't mine at all.
One—clearer than the other—was a scene of someone speaking to a young boy named Merlin, explaining different classes of wizardry.
Ah this is the one I saw the day I got my letter.
The second was blurred, fragmented. A glimpse of Hogwarts. Of the magical world.
Deliberately vague.
The other me… was holding things back on purpose.
Knowing too much could become a burden.
Would it push me to act? To interfere? To try and stop something I only half understood?
didn't know.
And perhaps it was better that I didn't.
At least this way… the choices would be mine.
A sharp clatter snapped me back to the classroom.
I glanced toward the sound. A Hufflepuff boy had been sleeping, head tilted awkwardly as his friends quietly amused themselves by drawing on his face. One of them had knocked over an inkwell, spilling it across the desk.
I glanced at the Teacher but Professor Binns continued speaking, unaware—or unconcerned—with the state of his audience.
I slid my wand out of my holster.
"Tempus."
Small, faint numbers hovered briefly above my desk.
An hour gone.
Another to endure.
I had picked up the spell toward the end of my stay at the Leaky Cauldron.
Tweak's tricks came to mind as I slid my wand back into its holster.
The way she vanished.
More importantly—the way she sent her voice to me alone.
I turned the idea over in my mind.
So I just sat there like a statue and thought how to do it.
By the time the lesson neared its end, I had learned nothing about goblin treaties.
Instead I had confirmed something far more useful by an accidental enlightenment moment. I was testing my mage sight and how tiring it is to keep up with the Predatory Stalking charm.
The answer was predictably, depending fully how much mana I was pushing to my eyes. that made me think what would happen if I directed mana to my throat and vocal cords while thinking to whisper just that one sleeping Hufflepuff boy.
So I did it on an impulse.
"wake up"
No sound left my lips.
But something did.
The boy jerked upright instantly.
Confused. Disoriented..
The boy looked at his friends.
He looked fairly ridiculous with an ink moustache and monocle drawn on his face. accompanied with a drool on his cheek.
Almost at the same time the bell finally came, the class stirred back to life in uneven motion.
Chairs scraped and voices started to rise to the normal levels. Professor Binns just floated straight through the blackboard.
I gathered my things at an unhurried pace, letting the last traces of that class and its lethargy shake off from my shoulders. Around me, Slytherins were already trading notes—buying, selling, sharing information about the class.
Well it's the Slytherin way.