In the bustling Great Hall of Hogwarts, Adam finally managed to break free from the crowd.
It hadn't even been thirty minutes since the end of that Potions class, but the news had already spread like wildfire through the entire hall. Snape had nearly been arrested by the Ministry of Magic, and a phoenix had appeared in the dungeon classroom. Adam could only marvel at how quickly the Hufflepuffs spread gossip—honestly, their efficiency could put any underground intelligence network to shame.
As he passed through the corridors, even the portraits seemed to recognize him, waving cheerfully at the boy with the blue-and-white scarf.
"Honestly, Adam, you shouldn't have gotten involved in that mess," Fred said, clutching a roasted potato, his tone tinged with regret. George, sitting beside him, let out a similar sigh.
"If Snape had actually been carted off by the Ministry, Gryffindor might've had a real shot at the House Cup this year."
Adam's knife paused mid-slice through his veal chop. He glanced toward the entrance hall, where the hourglasses tracking the four houses' points stood. It was only the second day of term, and Gryffindor's rubies were already dwindling, noticeably lower than the other houses.
"Even if Snape were gone, you two would still find ways to give Professor McGonagall new headaches," Adam said. "And besides, I'm a Hufflepuff."
Fred and George exchanged a glance, then eyed Adam's discarded blue-and-white scarf, letting out a pair of mischievous chuckles.
"Speaking of which," Adam said, "more and more people have been buying quills from me—especially Gryffindors. Don't tell me you lot still haven't finished your summer homework?"
"Nah, it's not that," George replied. "It's because of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"Professor Hogg's classes are actually pretty interesting," Fred chimed in. "Especially when he showed off that Erkling in the classroom. Nearly jumped out of my skin when it popped up."
George raised an eyebrow, animatedly recounting the moment to Adam. "The only downside is he's making us go to the library to research and write a report on Erklings. Next week, he's picking the best one for some mysterious reward. I'm already itching to find out what it is."
Adam set his plate down, frowning. "You're sure it was an Erkling? Those are 4X-level magical creatures."
"Letting one loose in a classroom full of young wizards? That's basically serving it a buffet."
"We know, we know," Fred said, waving a hand dismissively. "Professor Hogg mentioned how dangerous they are, but it was locked in a cage. And if it was really that risky, Dumbledore wouldn't let it anywhere near the castle, right?"
Adam swatted George's hand away from the last fried chicken leg on his plate. "That's not what's bothering me," he said, grabbing the drumstick. "Erklings mostly live in the Black Forest in Germany. After a string of nasty attacks last century, the German Ministry started strictly controlling their population. You can hardly find them in Germany anymore. So how did he get his hands on one?"
Before anyone could answer, the three of them dove for the last plate of maple pudding on the table. In the chaos, a passing Hufflepuff prefect swooped in and nabbed it.
"Ugh, next time I'm eating at the Gryffindor table," George groaned.
Fred, unbothered, waved it off and leaned in toward Adam, lowering his voice. "I know something about that. My dad was out drinking with some colleagues the other day and mentioned a Hogwarts professor who came to the Ministry to sort out paperwork for a bunch of magical creatures."
"That's got to be Professor Hogg," George added. "And if the Ministry approved it, the source must be legit."
Adam's eyelid twitched. That sounded suspiciously like the night the Weasleys and the Diggorys had their little get-together. He nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly looked up at Fred and George.
"I need to borrow something from you two."
"What?"
"The Marauder's Map."
"No way," they said in unison, like they'd rehearsed it.
"Unless…" they drawled, each slinging an arm over Adam's shoulders, their eyes glinting mischievously. "You take us with you!"
…
"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous forms of magic you'll encounter at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "Let me warn you now: anyone who dares disrupt my class will be asked to leave and never return."
Her gaze landed on Adam in the back row, her expression shifting slightly. "Some of you may have already dabbled in Transfiguration, but I must stress one thing: Transfiguration has limits. This is why we study Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Take out your quills…"
The young witches and wizards, still buzzing from McGonagall's recent Animagus demonstration, were brimming with enthusiasm. They scribbled furiously, hanging on to every word, even the drier bits about definitions. The Ravenclaw first-years, in particular, were laser-focused, frequently raising their hands to ask questions.
Adam, sitting quietly in the back, held a quill like the others, but his writing pace was… different. During a moment when McGonagall turned away, Shirley leaned over and noticed a yellowed piece of parchment next to his notebook. The notebook itself was filled with strange, intricate symbols—chaotic at first glance, like random doodles, but clearly conveying some deeper meaning.
"What are you writing?" Shirley whispered.
"Just some runes," Adam replied casually.
McGonagall turned back, tapping her wand on a matchbox. Matches flew out, hovering in the air before landing in front of each student. As a seasoned Transfiguration master, McGonagall used a single match to illustrate the subject's complexity.
"Mr. Lucas Gobel," she said sharply, "I believe I mentioned that casting any spell requires focus and patience. We're turning matches into silver needles, not setting them on fire."
She handed the red-faced Hufflepuff a fresh match. Compared to the chaotic Potions class with Slytherin earlier that morning, this shared lesson with Ravenclaw was orderly. The Hufflepuffs, known for their gentle nature, sat quietly, their quills scratching softly or murmuring incantations under their breath. The Ravenclaws, meanwhile, buzzed with low discussions, a contrast McGonagall seemed used to.
When she reached the back row, her eyelid twitched. On Adam's desk, a match, wrapped in a glow of magic, was twisting and reshaping. The tail transformed first, sprouting tiny scales that crept upward, forming a tightly knit pattern. The match morphed into a miniature fire dragon, wings intricately detailed, pearl-white eyes gleaming, and a faint orange flicker of dragon flame in its mouth.
Adam, wiping sweat from his brow, caught McGonagall's gaze. He quickly waved his wand, turning the dragon back into a match, then into a plain silver needle.
McGonagall gave an approving nod. "Five points to Hufflepuff!" she said, moving on to the Ravenclaw desks.
Adam exhaled in relief, slipping the yellowed parchment out from under the dragon model. Shirley, who had managed to turn one end of her match into a needle tip while the other remained wooden, glanced at him.
"Is that parchment really that special?" she asked.
"To every student, it's priceless," Adam said. "But I just need it to confirm something."
"Confirm what?"
Adam tapped his wand on the other parchment, the one he'd been scribbling on. The dense runes faded, blending into the page, then reformed as black lines sketching the castle's layout, complete with dotted paths marking secret passages.
His eyes locked onto a passage on the fourth floor, the only one stretching beyond the castle's walls. "About those Beaters," he said softly. "And why they're suddenly showing up at Hogwarts."