The weeks after the holiday break were the most intense of Edmund's academic life.
He had set a new goal for himself: complete the third-year curriculum by the end of December, then finish the fourth-year curriculum by the end of the school year. That would put him on track to sit for his O.W.L.s in fourth year—a full year earlier than usual. The system had not objected. In fact, it had encouraged him.
**System Notification: Accelerated Timeline Approved**
*Third-year curriculum completion target: December 31 of current year.*
*Fourth-year curriculum completion target: May 31 of following year.*
*O.W.L. examination sitting: Fourth year (early).*
*Note: This timeline is aggressive but achievable. Maintain current study habits. Do not neglect rest.*
Edmund threw himself into the work.
He woke at five each morning, studying in the library until breakfast. He attended his classes, took meticulous notes, asked questions that made even his professors pause. He spent his afternoons in the Room of Requirement, practicing spells from the fourth-year curriculum, brewing potions that were not taught until fifth year, reading texts on warding and healing that most students never touched.
His friends noticed the change.
"You're different," Cassius said one evening, watching Edmund practice a Shield Charm that shimmered with a pale blue light—a fourth-year variation. "You're not just studying anymore. You're... hunting."
Edmund lowered his wand. "I have a timeline."
"What timeline?"
"I want to take my O.W.L.s next year."
Cassius stared at him. "Next year? We're third years. O.W.L.s are for fifth years."
"I'm not waiting."
Cassius shook his head. "You're mad. Completely mad."
"Probably."
But he did not slow down.
---
By the middle of December, Edmund had mastered the third-year curriculum in Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions. The system confirmed it with a soft chime.
**System Notification: Third Year Mastery Achieved**
*Congratulations, Edmund Prince. You have mastered the third-year curriculum in Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions.*
*Time to achieve: 3 months (third year, December).*
*Projected timeline: Ahead of schedule.*
*Reward: +150 XP*
He stood in the Room of Requirement, his wand at his side, and let the satisfaction settle over him. Three months. He had completed in three months what most students took a full year to learn. He was not the best in his year—Abraxas Malfoy still outperformed him in Transfiguration, and Astrid Greengrass had a natural gift for Arithmancy that he could not match. But he was ahead of the roadmap. The system had projected third-year mastery by the end of third year; he had achieved it in December.
He closed the interface and reached for his fourth-year texts.
---
The fourth-year curriculum was harder.
The spells were more complex, the potions more demanding, the theory more abstract. Professor Wainwright's fourth-year Transfiguration text included chapters on human transfiguration—the most dangerous branch of the subject. Professor Marchbanks's Charms text covered the Patronus Charm in detail, along with other advanced defensive magic. Professor Burke's Potions text included the Draught of Living Death and other brews that required weeks of preparation.
Edmund worked through them methodically, one chapter at a time, one spell at a time. He practiced until his wand hand ached. He read until his eyes burned. He slept less and less, and his friends grew more worried.
"You need to rest," Horace said one evening, finding Edmund asleep over his Potions textbook in the common room.
Edmund jerked awake. "I was just resting my eyes."
"You were drooling on page 247."
Edmund wiped his mouth. "Page 247 is about the properties of moonstone. It's important."
"So is sleep." Horace sat down beside him. "You're going to burn out. Professor Burke said the best potioneers know when to step away from the cauldron. The same applies to studying."
Edmund knew Horace was right. But he could not stop. The timeline was tight. Fourth-year curriculum by May. O.W.L.s in fourth year. N.E.W.T.s by fifth. The school he was meant to build was waiting, and he could not afford to slow down.
"I'll rest when the work is done," he said.
"The work is never done."
Edmund had no answer for that.
---
December passed. The holiday break arrived, and the castle emptied. Edmund stayed, as he always stayed. There was too much work to do.
He spent the holidays in the library, the Restricted Section, and the Room of Requirement. He read the fourth-year texts cover to cover. He practiced the spells until they became second nature. He brewed potions until his cauldron was stained with the residue of a dozen different brews.
The system tracked his progress.
**Progress – End of December**
*Fourth Year Curriculum (Self-Study):*
- Charms: 35%
- Transfiguration: 28%
- Potions: 32%
- Defence Against the Dark Arts: 25%
- Herbology: 20%
- Ancient Runes: 22%
- Care of Magical Creatures: 18%
- Arithmancy: 15%
- Alchemy: 12%
*Healing Fundamentals: 52%*
He was not where he wanted to be. But he was moving.
---
The second half of third year began in January with a blizzard that buried the grounds in snow and kept the students indoors for a week. Edmund used the time to push further into the fourth-year curriculum.
He focused on Charms first. Marchbanks's fourth-year text included a chapter on the Patronus Charm, and Edmund threw himself into it with a desperation that surprised even himself. He wanted to cast it. He needed to cast it. The Patronus was a symbol of hope, of joy, of everything he was fighting for.
But the charm eluded him.
He stood in the Room of Requirement, his wand raised, and focused on his happiest memory. He thought of the day he had healed the kneazle, the warmth of the ring on his finger, the creature's trust. The silver mist that emerged from his wand was thin, formless, barely there.
He tried again. The same result.
He tried a different memory—the day he had received his second-year results, the pride in his professors' eyes, the satisfaction of a job well done. The mist was still thin.
He tried the memory of the Uagadou delegation, the wandless magic, the flame that danced in Asha Mwangi's palm. The mist flickered but did not form.
He was missing something. Joy. Not satisfaction, not pride, not wonder. Joy.
He did not know if he had ever felt it.
---
Professor Marchbanks found him in the library one evening, hunched over the Patronus chapter, his notes spread across the table.
"You're still struggling," she said, sitting down across from him.
"Yes, Professor."
"The Patronus is not a spell you can force. It requires a memory of pure happiness. Not accomplishment. Not relief. Happiness."
Edmund looked up. "What if I don't have a memory like that?"
Marchbanks studied him for a long moment. "Everyone has happiness, Mr. Prince. Sometimes it is buried under layers of ambition and fear. But it is there." She paused. "Perhaps you are looking in the wrong place. The Patronus does not require a grand memory. It requires an honest one."
She rose and walked away. Edmund sat in the library, her words echoing in his mind.
*An honest one.*
He closed his eyes and searched his memory. Not for the grand moments—the achievements, the milestones, the victories. For the small moments. The quiet moments. The moments when he had not been trying to be anything other than himself.
He thought of the first time he had held his wand, the warmth that had bloomed up his arm. He thought of Perseus, the barn owl, nipping his finger gently and leaning into his hand. He thought of the evening in the common room with his friends, the fire crackling, the lake shifting beyond the windows, the easy laughter.
He thought of Arthur's grin, Cassius's competitive streak, Horace's earnestness, Astrid's quiet presence.
He thought of the Prince manor, cold and crumbling, but his. His home.
He opened his eyes. The silver mist that emerged from his wand was still thin, still formless, but it was warmer. It pulsed with a light that had not been there before.
He was getting closer.
---