Soon.
Rain poured down.
It stread down the towering turrets and winding walls of the castle. The night sky seed to be torn apart by an invisible hand, with dazzling streaks of lightning slicing through the darkness.
Accompanied by deafening thunder, the flashes intermittently illuminated the entire castle, while a peculiar creature remained hidden beneath the eaves, sheltering from the heavy rain.
It fixed its gaze on Ian in the dormitory.
Restless.
Poised to strike.
The fragile windows of the Ravenclaw dormitory clearly wouldn't be enough to keep it out.
However.
At that mont.
"Screech!"
A sharp, piercing cry echoed through the storm. A fiery red figure burst into view, cutting through the darkness like the first rays of dawn. The peculiar creature, sensing danger, suddenly unfurled its wings.
It undulated in the air like a spectral manta ray, but the crimson figure gave chase. In the blink of an eye, both magical creatures vanished into the night.
Everything returned to stillness.
As though nothing had happened.
The rain continued to fall.
Until the next morning.
As the long night and raging storm receded, the sky slowly lifted its heavy, black curtain.
The once-relentless rain softened to a re drizzle before ceasing altogether, leaving only droplets trickling from the eaves and leaves, their gentle rhythm filling the quiet morning air.
On the horizon, a soft blue-violet hue quietly spread, signaling the arrival of a new day.
"Why are you still asleep!"
William had been the last to bed and was now the first to wake. He even managed to rise earlier than Ian's typically disciplined internal clock.
"It's the first day of term! Do you want to be late? I heard Hogwarts bans tardy students from the library!"
William's voice failed to rouse Ian, but his insistent shaking did. As Ian groggily erged from sleep, the first thing he saw was a head full of vibrant green hair.
"What in rlin's na... did the Forbidden Forest migrate indoors?"
Ian pushed William's head away.
Still half-asleep, he sat up.
"It's my hair! My hair!"
William huffed, turning to shake Michael awake, but his efforts were in vain. The burly boy's ability to sleep through anything was looking legendary.
"Maybe try slapping him." Ian yawned as he perched on the edge of his bed.
His gaze drifted back to William's hair, thoughtful.
Considering that green pignts don't naturally occur in mammals and that ultraviolet light doesn't favor the color, it seed highly improbable for humans to have naturally green hair.
Therefore.
Clearly, William's ancestors, much like a certain noseless Dark Lord, must have undergone so rather extre magical alterations— perhaps even blending with a non-mammalian bloodline.
Reptilian, most likely. Possibly amphibian with Egg-laying ability.
"That's a brilliant idea!"
Oblivious to Ian's genetic speculations, William took his advice at face value and slapped Michael's chest with full force.
"Thud!"
Michael shot up, wide-eyed.
"I ant his face, not his ribs!" Ian exclaid, montarily stunned. He was beginning to think William belonged more in Gryffindor than in Ravenclaw.
"I figured this was more effective— and maybe even more polite," William offered sheepishly, reaching out as if to rub the sore spot.
"Forget politeness, I want to live!" Michael yelped, scrambling away. If nothing else, he was now fully awake.
Adrenaline did the trick every ti.
"Sorry."
William's apology was at least earnest, which helped... sowhat.
"Next ti, just slap my face. My mum does it all the ti. Don't worry about manners."
Watching Ian dart into the bathroom to claim first rights, Michael sighed and rubbed his sore chest. He made a ntal note to sleep with a Shield Charm.
With that minor ordeal over.
The three wizards quickly washed up and made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Oatal, bread rolls, orange juice, kippers, eggs and bacon, toast with butter and jam, cornflakes— Hogwarts' classic breakfast spread.
Nutritious.
And delicious.
Most importantly, Ian's favorite wake-up lemonade was there. A single glass of the sharp, citrusy drink jolted him fully awake, setting the stage for a competition with his roommates to see who could eat the most.
Unsurprisingly.
Michael, robust as ever, erged victorious. Ian took second place, while William trailed behind, blaming his loss on last night's roast chicken.
"Mate, the chicken's done nothing wrong." Michael, still savoring last night's feast, smirked.
With their stomachs full and spirits high.
Ian and his roommates dashed toward the seventh floor— today's first class was Transfiguration with Professor Minerva McGonagall, shared with Hufflepuff.
Each lesson paired two Houses together, but the pairings varied.
This system encouraged competition, strengthened House pride, and subtly reinforced the fact that Hogwarts admitted only a modest number of new students each year.
Despite the classroom's chatter, even with two Houses combined, there were only about thirty students.
"There's a cat on the desk!"
The mont they entered, they spotted a tabby curled up on the professor's desk.
Ian had been anticipating this mont for over a week. Seeing the legendary scene before him, he swiftly reached for the pouch of freeze-dried at he had prepared.
However.
He was too slow.
"Here, kitty! Soft and fluffy! Must be the professor's pet!"
Michael, relying on so mysterious reflex, darted ahead, his hand stretching toward the tabby's head before Ian could react.
"Good morning, Professor McGonagall."
Realizing what was about to happen, Ian quickly made a tactical decision.
He bowed slightly to the cat, subtly slipping the freeze-dried at back into his robes.
"What—"
Before Michael's fingers could make contact.
Professor McGonagall transford.
In the blink of an eye, the tabby vanished, replaced by the stern yet dignified Transfiguration professor.
Michael's hand hovered mid-air, caught in the act, his expression one of pure horror.
"Good instincts, Mr. Prince."
Professor McGonagall ignored the now deeply mortified Michael, instead giving Ian a curious look. She hesitated for a mont before offering a word of advice.
"While eating in class isn't strictly forbidden, carrying old food in your robes isn't exactly advisable. Spoiled snacks can be quite hazardous to one's health."
As she spoke.
Her expression beca even more peculiar.
Sohow, she had the distinct impression that Ian hadn't been planning to eat the at himself.
You can read ahead up to 60 chapters on my P*treon: spatreon/darkshadow6395
User Comments
0 comments from readers