"Roger, casting without a wand requires both exceptional talent and a very high level of proficiency with the spell," Professor Flitwick reminded him gently. His voice carried no mockery, only concern, because he did not want a first-year to humiliate himself in front of the whole class.
"Professor, I can do it," Roger Williams answered firmly.
Flitwick studied him for a moment, then nodded and allowed him to begin. Roger placed his wand on the desk, and under everyone's watchful eyes, he whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The incantation was clean, precise, and perfectly controlled. The feather lying on the table rose steadily into the air, light as breath, then drifted in a smooth circle above the classroom before returning neatly to the desk.
"Wow…"
A wave of astonished exclamations swept through the room. For the first time, many of the young witches and wizards had seen what wandless casting looked like, and the sight left them staring with wide eyes.
If the difficulty of casting with a wand was one, then casting without a wand was at least ten. Roger's ability to control an almost weightless feather so precisely demonstrated an even higher level of magical finesse, and even the students who disliked him could not deny what they had just seen.
Professor Flitwick was deeply impressed by the performance. His eyes shone with delight, and he began clapping before anyone else could react.
"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!" Flitwick exclaimed.
Ron clapped twice with great reluctance, his face twisted as though the applause physically hurt him. The Slytherins, however, needed no encouragement.
"Five points to Slytherin for an outstanding display of spellwork," Professor Flitwick announced.
"Yeah!"
The young snakes cheered especially loudly. As long as Roger was willing to cooperate, he could pull points from nearly any professor, though flying lessons clearly remained the exception.
Roger bowed politely to Professor Flitwick in thanks. Five points was far from Snape's impossible demand, but at least it might make his Head of House's expression slightly less murderous.
Hermione followed immediately after him, casting the Levitation Charm with effortless precision. Her feather rose beautifully, earning Flitwick's praise as well, though she seemed more pleased that Roger had succeeded than that she had done it herself.
"Hermione, did you already know he could do that?" Ron demanded, staring at her suspiciously.
"Hmph. Mind your own business," Hermione said.
She disliked how often Weasley cost Gryffindor points, and his habit of assuming the worst about Roger only made him more irritating. She lowered her head and focused on practising her spell again, refusing to give Ron the argument he clearly wanted.
After class, Roger made a point of walking over to her. "Thank you, Hermione."
"You're welcome," Hermione said with a smile. "But Professor Flitwick awarded you points because of your wandless casting, not because of me."
"Even so, without your help, the professor certainly wouldn't have given me the chance so easily," Roger said. Then he gave her a solemn little bow. "To express my gratitude, Miss Granger, would you mind accompanying me to the library?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I think you're the one who needs to go."
"Oh dear. I've been seen through," Roger said, nodding with false sorrow. "I'm definitely not going to earn Snape's fifty points in time, so I'd better start thinking about how to breathe underwater."
He remembered that someone had used a special plant during the Triwizard Tournament in the future. Unfortunately, memory alone did not provide a name, and he would have to find it in a library book.
"You brought this many books?" Hermione asked, eyes widening.
The stack in Roger's arms was so high it almost blocked his face. Several of the volumes were thick enough to qualify as building materials.
"There's nothing I can do. I can't become a fish," Roger said.
He dropped the books onto the table with a heavy thud. Madam Pince immediately turned toward him with a glare full of murderous intent, and Roger quickly lowered his head in apology.
"Be careful," Hermione whispered, helping him divide the books into two piles. "Madam Pince treasures these books terribly. I think she believes we're damaging them just by reading them, and if the books belonged to her personally, she would definitely throw us all out."
She pulled a borrowing slip from one of her own books and showed it to him. "Last time I borrowed A History of Ancient Magic, she lectured me forever. Look at this warning."
Roger leaned closer and read the long line written across the slip. If you cut, tear, fold, stain, throw, drop, or otherwise mistreat this book, I will make you suffer the most terrible consequences within my power.
Hermione picked up one of the books she had found. The top volume was titled Forgotten Ancient Magic and Spells, and a smaller line beneath the title read: They could not possibly design an impossible task.
"I've always been able to find answers in the library," Hermione said encouragingly. "I think you can too."
"A potion for underwater breathing," Roger murmured, opening the first book.
They searched through Strange Magical Plants, Potions and Materials, The Range of Spells: From Simple to Complex, and A Spell Dictionary, 1732–1960. One by one, the books moved from the unread pile to the finished pile, but the answer refused to appear.
Time passed quietly between turning pages. The library grew colder and emptier, and the shadows between the shelves stretched longer beneath the candlelight.
"How can there be nothing?" Roger muttered, propping his head on one hand. His eyes ached from reading, and the words on the page were starting to blur together.
It was Halloween, so the library would close two hours earlier than usual. Besides Roger and Hermione, only Madam Pince remained, watching them from a distance with the resentful intensity of someone guarding a beloved treasure from thieves.
"Hermione, let's return the books first," Roger said at last.
He could no longer stand Madam Pince's stare. It was full of such accusation that he felt as if he had stolen her daughter away instead of borrowing several library books.
"Roger, have we been going about this the wrong way?" Hermione asked as she placed the last book back on the shelf. Her eyes moved thoughtfully across the spines. "Professor Snape may be eccentric, but he wouldn't set you an impossible task without a solution."
"You're right. That's why I've been looking for potions or magical plants," Roger said. "He's our Potions professor, so it should be something like that."
"Children, it is time to go to the Great Hall for Halloween," Madam Pince said suddenly.
She appeared beside the shelves without warning, her thin figure casting a long, narrow shadow in the candlelight. Both children started slightly, and Roger instinctively glanced at his pocket watch.
"Madam, there are still five minutes before closing," he said, raising the watch as evidence.
Hermione quickly pulled him away before he could continue. "Come on."
"What's wrong?" Roger asked.
"Did you see the feather duster in Madam Pince's hand?" Hermione whispered. "Last time, a student accidentally dropped a book, and she chased him out with it."
"Well, to be honest, she reminds me of someone," Roger said, glancing back at Madam Pince's black robes. "Strict and ruthless."
"His attitude toward work isn't just serious. It's obsessive and demanding," Hermione added, clearly understanding who he meant.
"And the other similarity is that we don't like them," Roger said.
Hermione exchanged a knowing smile with him. The more they thought about it, the more Madam Pince and Professor Snape seemed like a perfect match in the strangest possible way.
"I've thought of a funny prank," Roger said suddenly.
Since he was going to be forced into the Black Lake to gather plants, he decided Snape deserved a little revenge. A punishment from the old bat could not be allowed to pass without interest.
"What are you planning?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Impersonate Madam Pince and write a letter to Snape," Roger said, gesturing with a wicked grin.
Hermione's eyes widened at once. "If they found out, oh my goodness. The consequences would be terrible."
She sounded horrified, and with good reason. This was Snape, the professor most students feared above all others, and Roger's audacity was practically unbelievable.
"Don't worry. I'll tell you a secret," Roger whispered near Hermione's ear. "Our Head of House is single because he was deeply in love with a former classmate."
"What? Really?" Hermione stared at him in shock.
She had always thought Snape was a research-obsessed fanatic who probably did not even understand what liking someone meant. Imagining him in love felt stranger than imagining Madam Pince laughing.
"Of course. Unfortunately, her child is already in school," Roger sighed. "Just like us, he's a first-year this year."
Hermione blinked. "Roger, was that a proverb in another language?"
"Don't worry about the details," Roger said. "In any case, it's his fault for punishing me by sending me to the bottom of the lake."
He stopped suddenly and grabbed Hermione. At the same moment, both of them smelled something foul, a horrible mixture of dirty socks and dead rats.
Then came a thunderous thud like an elephant stomping down the corridor. A colossal figure appeared at the far end of the passage, its shadow stretched by the candlelight into a black curtain that quickly filled the entire hallway.
"It's a troll," Roger whispered.
He pulled Hermione behind a statue and shielded her with his body. The twelve-foot creature wandered aimlessly toward them, and if they tried to run now, it would definitely spot them.
Its grey skin had a stony sheen, and it clutched a thick wooden club in one huge hand. Its tiny head contrasted absurdly with its enormous body, making it look almost like a little chocolate bean set on top of a mountain of muscle.
The troll dragged its club across the floor, producing a harsh, grating sound that scraped through the corridor. Hermione clung tightly to Roger's arm, her legs trembling as she stared at the terrifying creature, and if Roger had not covered her mouth, she probably would have screamed.
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