The walk from the center of the Slytherin table to the Ravenclaw table had never felt so long.
Twelve meters. Alister counted every single one of them.
Astra looked up from her bowl of oatmeal as he approached, her face lighting up with immediate, guileless delight. "Morning, Alister!"
"Morning, Astra," he replied, his voice perfectly smooth. His eyes, however, were locked entirely on the girl sitting rigidly to his sister's left. He stepped over the bench with deliberate calm and settled into the empty seat directly across from Cho Chang.
"Cho," he greeted quietly.
"Potter," Cho replied.
Her voice was so pleasant that the temperature in Alister's immediate vicinity dropped by approximately ten degrees.
Right, he thought. We're doing surnames.
Astra's spoon paused halfway to her mouth. Her eyes began their slow, delighted migration between her brother and Cho. A grin started to spread across her face — the kind that meant she was going to enjoy every second of whatever was about to happen and feel absolutely no guilt about it.
"Did you sleep well?" Alister tried his second chance, resting his arms on the table.
"Wonderfully," Cho said, finally lifting her dark eyes to his. "And you? You were up very early this morning. Such dedication of your is truly admirable."
"I have a morning routine—"
"I'm sure you do." She took a delicate sip of her tea. "How hospitable of you, by the way, to make the new student feel so welcome. The House of Snakes, extending its warmth to a Grindelwald at sunrise. Truly, Alister... how heartwarming."
"She was the one invited who me," he said. she didn't, but that's a nuance I'm choosing not to address right now.
"I'm sure she did." Cho set her teacup down with a soft, precise clink. "Did you know half the girls in our dormitory were talking about her last night? They say she might be part-Veela."
"I hadn't noticed."
Cho raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You hadn't noticed?"
"No." He really didn't like the direction this conversation was heading to.
"Uh huh." She picked up her teacup again. "Your observational skills must really be slipping. Perhaps you're not getting enough sleep."
Astra couldn't contain it anymore. A snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it. She slapped her hand over her mouth, but the damage was done — her shoulders were shaking helplessly.
Alister turned to look at her.
"Traitor," he said flatly.
"I'm not doing anything," Astra wheezed from behind her hand. "I'm just eating breakfast."
"You're laughing at me."
"I'm laughing near you. There's a difference." She waved her spoon vaguely. "It's a very small one, but it exists."
He turned back to Cho.
"Cho, it's me," he said quietly, holding her gaze. "It was first time i found someone worth talking to in sytherin."
Cho held his gaze for a long, agonizing moment. The tense line of her shoulders finally relaxed.
"I know. I am also glad that there's finally someone you can have conversation within your own house," she sighed, putting her spoon down. "But Alister... she's a Grindelwald. If you get tangled up with her, the Ministry will be watching your every move. More than they already do after you created memory metal."
"Let them watch," Alister said, a hint of his usual arrogance returning.
"Just... be careful," Cho warned, reaching across the table to lightly flick him on the forehead.
"Ow—"
"And if you're meeting some girl for first time, do it without looking like you're sharing a romantic breakfast, you idiot. It looked like a romantic subplot of a novel"
Alister rubbed his forehead, a reluctant smile pulling at his mouth. "Noted. Next time I'll scowl the entire time and sit two tables away."
"See that you do." She stood, gathering her bag as the Great Hall began filling with the usual morning surge of students. "Now leave before you ruin the Ravenclaw table's reputation. We have Defense Against the Dark Arts together during second period. I'll see you then."
"See you then," Alister agreed.
Astra waved cheerfully at his retreating back. "Bye, Alister! Try not to cause any incidents before lunch!"
"No promises," he called back, without turning around.
The moment he was clear of the Ravenclaw table, his rigid posture collapsed entirely. He made it approximately four steps before stopping, pressing his forehead against the cool stone of the nearest pillar, and standing there for a moment in absolute silence.
"I'm already tired," he told the pillar.
The pillar did not respond, and he certainly hadn't expected it to.
He straightened up, adjusted his tie, rolled his shoulders back into their usual confident set, and walked toward Transfiguration class.
Because of his early morning routine, the corridors were still relatively sparse. When he pushed open the heavy door to the Transfiguration classroom, he found it completely empty of students.
At the front of the room, sitting perfectly still on the teacher's podium, was a stiff-backed tabby cat with distinct, square-shaped markings around its eyes.
"Morning, Professor," Alister greeted lightly, his voice echoing slightly in the empty stone room.
The cat gave a single, perfunctory nod of acknowledgment.
Alister moved to his usual seat near the middle of the room and set down. As he pulled out his parchment and quills, he glanced back up at the podium.
The cat was staring straight ahead, but its eyes were slightly glazed. Her focus was entirely somewhere else.
Alister sat in silence, leaning back in his chair and waiting. Ten minutes passed before the tabby cat suddenly blinked, shook its head, and fluidly expanded. In a seamless blur of motion, the fur melted into the crisp, tartan-patterned robes of Professor McGonagall.
She stood behind the podium, adjusting her square spectacles with a small sigh.
"Sorry, Alister," McGonagall said, her voice carrying a rare note of distraction. "I was checking the forums."
Alister raised an eyebrow. The Arcane Network was certainly changing the landscape of Hogwarts faster than he had anticipated if even the Deputy Headmistress was scrolling through it before class.
"My workload has increased exponentially since the summer," McGonagall continued, organizing a stack of parchment on her desk with sharp, precise movements. "I need to constantly participate in the international Transfiguration discussions and study the new concepts being uploaded daily by masters from all over the world. The theoretical models alone are staggering."
She paused, looking out over the empty desks with a weary but intense expression. "It will be hard to keep my position as a professor here if I don't improve myself to match this new standard."
Alister listened to her complain, but his eyes caught the subtle shift in her expression. The tight, stern lines around her mouth had softened, and there was a distinct, undeniable spark of excitement in her eyes.
Alister looked at her for a long moment. Her posture was impeccable, her expression was stern, and her eyes were absolutely alive in a way he'd rarely seen in a Hogwarts classroom.
"Although you're complaining, Professor," Alister said, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you must be really enjoying this."
McGonagall stopped shuffling her papers. She looked up at Alister, and the strict, no-nonsense disciplinarian melted away for a brief moment. A genuine, warm smile broke across her usually stern face.
"Yes," she admitted softly. "I suppose I am. I have always loved and welcomed new knowledge with open arms. It is a rare gift to feel like a student again at my age."
She walked around the side of the podium, leaning against it slightly as she met his gaze.
"Remember this, Alister," McGonagall said, her tone ringing with absolute conviction. "You cannot become a truly powerful wizard if you do not cherish knowledge as much as your own life. Magic is not just about power."
Before Alister could respond, the heavy oak door creaked open, and the first wave of sleepy, chattering Gryffindors and Slytherins began to spill into the classroom.
McGonagall's expression snapped back to its usual form.
The rest of the class proceeded with the usual rigorous atmosphere McGonagall commanded. Chalk scratched against the blackboard, outlining the intricate wand movements required for cross-species transfiguration. Alister took minimal notes; he already understood the theory perfectly, but he respected the solid foundation she was laying down for the rest of the class.
As the grandfather clock in the corner ticked toward the final five minutes, McGonagall tapped her wand sharply against her desk.
"Wands and parchment away, please." She waited for the rustle and shuffle to settle. "Before you are dismissed, I have an announcement regarding this year's curriculum."
She paused, looking over the sea of expectant Gryffindor and Slytherin faces. She adjusted her square spectacles.
"By decree of the Headmaster and the collective agreement of the staff," she said clearly, "traditional weekly homework for all core subjects has been officially canceled."
For three entire seconds, the classroom was trapped in a state of stunned disbelief. A collective failure to process the words. Then, the whole class erupted in cheers many students looked like they might cry tears of joy.
McGonagall didn't silence them immediately. She simply stood there, her hands clasped gracefully in front of her. And from his vantage point, Alister saw a slight, unmistakable upward curve of her lips.
"However," McGonagall's voice suddenly sliced through the celebration, amplified just enough to rattle the windowpanes.
The cheers died instantly.
"You are not absolved of independent study," she continued, her tone dropping into a dangerous, silken register. "Instead, at the beginning of each month, every student will be assigned a unique, highly specific topic from the Arcane Network forums for each of your subjects."
She stepped out from behind the podium, her eyes sweeping over the suddenly terrified faces of her students.
"You are required to conduct a detailed, comprehensive study on your assigned topic. You will research the evolving theories, analyze the spell structures, and submit a full, extensive thesis at the end of the month. And because every single student will receive a fundamentally different topic... copying from a classmate will be entirely impossible."
The collective mood in the room plummeted so fast it was practically tangible. The descent from absolute heaven to the depths of academic hell was accompanied by a wave of horrified, despairing groans.
"Your first monthly topics will be posted to your dormitory notice boards this evening," McGonagall concluded, the hint of a smirk still playing at the edges of her mouth. "Class dismissed."
As the students began to pack their bags with the lethargic, defeated energy of the condemned, Alister slung his bag over his shoulder and let out a low chuckle.
"Yup," Alister muttered to himself, shaking his head. "She totally did it on purpose."
But as he walked out of the classroom, joining the flow of shell-shocked students in the corridor, his internal thoughts were racing in a completely different direction.
This is genuinely brilliant
The old system was stagnant—memorize a textbook, write twelve inches on a goblin rebellion, and repeat.
But this? Assign each student a dynamic, evolving topic from a globally active academic forum, force them onto the Network, make them engage with living magical theory rather than dead textbook pages it isn't some homework anymore.
The physical classes would now exist solely to build the absolute foundation, teaching the fundamental laws, safety, and core mechanics of using magic.
They weren't producing students who could recite spells anymore.
They were teaching the students how to study. They were forcing them to take the basics learned in class and apply them to cutting-edge magical theory.
They were actively breeding innovators.
Hogwarts, he thought. You keep surprising me.
(END OF CHAPTER)
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