Charms Classroom
"This lesson, we'll be learning the Levitation Charm," Professor Flitwick announced, perched atop a stack of books, his high-pitched voice guiding the class with precision. "The incantation is Wingardium Leviosa. One swish, one flick—make sure you don't mispronounce it, or…"
Hermione was paired with Ron, though she wasn't thrilled about it. She was a stickler for rules, always following them to the letter. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, were a pair of troublemakers who'd broken more than their fair share of school rules, costing Gryffindor who-knows-how-many points since the term started. Ever since Harry got that broom from Professor McGonagall, the two of them had grown even more reckless about the rules. As a result, Hermione found herself talking to them less and less.
Her gaze drifted toward Lucien. Now there was a student who loved learning and followed the rules—a far cry from the chaos of his peers.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron said, waving his wand with a rushed incantation. The feather in front of him twitched slightly but didn't budge much.
At least his wand wasn't the tattered mess it used to be, with unicorn hair poking out. A few days ago, Lucien had fixed it for him, though he'd mentioned Ron should get a wand better suited to him. Someone else's wand, Lucien had said, would never quite measure up.
Hearing Ron's repeated, loud attempts at the spell, Hermione's patience wore thin. "It's Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa. You need to draw out the 'gar'—you're saying it too short and slurring it."
Ron didn't appreciate her bossy tone but gave it another try. This time, the feather lifted a few centimeters off the desk before flopping back down. He went quiet, practicing without another word to Hermione.
As he practiced, Ron's eyes wandered to Lucien. Compared to Hermione's strict "teaching," Lucien's rigorous lessons, hefty homework, and tough exams made her seem like a walk in the park. Just thinking about Lucien's high standards and the mountain of assignments made Ron want to cry. But, as Lucien always said, hard work paid off. Ron could now create simple alchemical contraptions—like a hopping frog or a swimming turtle.
He'd already decided to show his creations to Percy, who could tell their mum that Ron was learning properly from Lucien and actually picking up useful skills from his friend.
Seeing Ron stay silent, Hermione didn't care. She focused on her own attempt at the Levitation Charm and soon had her feather floating steadily in the air.
But there was no praise or points from Professor Flitwick. Why? Because…
Hermione glanced at Lucien, already used to—or rather, numb to—what she saw. Two feathers in front of him were dancing a tango in perfect rhythm! Professor Flitwick, chuckling, even waved his wand to add a musical accompaniment.
Whenever Ravenclaw shared a class with another house, Lucien was always the first to complete the professor's task, earning points for his house. Every. Single. Subject.
Hermione was used to it by now. She worked hard, studying diligently in private to catch up, but she could never match Lucien's pace.
She often checked the house points hourglass. Gryffindor's score was a rollercoaster—up, down, up again, like a dive in Quidditch. Slytherin held a steady lead at the top, Hufflepuff consistently lingered at the bottom (though the Badgers didn't seem to mind, taking it in stride), and Ravenclaw's points grew steadily. Hermione figured it was partly because Ravenclaw had the fewest students, most of whom were studious and rarely lost points.
But the real reason? Lucien, the ruthless point-grinding machine, racking up points like it was his job.
BOOM!
A loud explosion jolted Hermione out of her thoughts, echoing through the classroom. All eyes turned to the source: a small boy with a soot-covered face and hair standing on end.
The class stared in shock, though many were fighting back laughter.
Lucien, however, remained unfazed.
Oh, it's the explosion prodigy at it again.
Seamus Finnigan, a natural at blowing things up—or at least, very experienced in it. Turning a Levitation Charm into a Blasting Curse? That took some kind of talent.
Startled, Professor Flitwick hopped off his book stack to check if Seamus was hurt.
Ding-a-ling!
The bell rang, signaling the end of class.
The young witches and wizards gathered in small groups, heading to the Great Hall.
It was Halloween Eve, after all!
---
Great Hall
Hollowed-out pumpkins, carved into grinning jack-o'-lanterns, lined the hall. Each had one or more candles glowing inside, casting flickering light. The pumpkins floated in the air, bobbing up and down, slowly spinning as if making faces at the students below. Magically conjured clouds drifted across the ceiling, with black bats of all sizes swooping out from them.
Lucien sat at the long table, glancing at the bats. Transfiguration, huh? Definitely Professor McGonagall's work. If Dumbledore had done it, the bats would probably be carrying candy jars or made entirely of sweets.
Hoot!
A plain brown owl landed in front of Lucien, delivering a letter. It nuzzled his hair, and after he fed it a pumpkin pasty, it flew off reluctantly.
He opened the letter and began reading.
As expected, it was from Newt Scamander, about caring for Nifflers. The letter warned to watch out for them stealing household or others' valuables and advised offering a variety of precious items, not just one type of metal, to keep them happy.
Lucien had been exchanging letters with Newt for a while. If he wanted to study magical creature transfiguration in the future, he'd need plenty of creatures to observe. And Newt was the best person in the world to help with that. He'd already sent tips on raising Nifflers and other magical creatures.
Lucien planned to borrow some creatures from Newt later for observation and study.
Across the table, Harry slumped over, looking exhausted. "Quidditch practice three nights a week, plus all this homework…" he muttered, his face practically screaming life is pain.
He didn't mention the extra tasks from studying Potions with Lucien—practical work, memorization, exercises, exams. Harry had never been this busy in his life.
Next to him, Ron munched on a fried chicken wing, tinkering with a shiny green mechanical frog on the table. With a tap of his wand, the frog came to life with a burst of magic, croaking and hopping—though it moved oddly, one side higher than the other.
"If you're so tired, we can swap," Ron said through a mouthful of chicken. "I'll play Quidditch, and you can do my diagrams."
Harry shot him a deadpan look. "Yeah, right."
Hermione watched the two, baffled. Over the past month, she'd noticed clear improvements in Harry's Potions skills and Ron's Transfiguration techniques. Ron was even making little gadgets like that frog.
She didn't think either of them was the type to study hard on their own or pester professors with questions. Yet, she often saw them trailing after Lucien, sometimes excited, sometimes miserable.
Her gaze settled on Lucien, the quiet, handsome boy reading his letter. Curiosity and confusion flickered in her eyes.