Chapter 5: Tell Me Where I Belong

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Lined up in front of a stool in the great hall, I stared at the hat perched atop the aged wooden seat with a healthy amount of trepidation. Was it something that looked into the deepest recesses of your mind, or only surface thoughts?

I didn't get to think about it for long, because Professor Archimedes began reading out our names from a roll of parchment. And since I had the unfortunate fate of having a surname beginning with the letter 'A', I was one of the first few kids to be called up.

"Azar, Cyrus."

Stumbling forward slightly, I frowned and turned back to Sirius who just so happened to be standing behind me. He winked and pointed at the stool. Not that I could raise a fuss in the middle of my sorting so I forged onwards.

Because realistically, what else could I do?

The filthy hat was placed on my head, falling well over my brow and then my eyes.

"I'll have you know that I've brought up the issue of my cleanliness to Headmaster Dumbledore— several times!" an aged voice sounded in my head. "It's not my fault that he hasn't cleaned me before. Yet his predecessor and fast friend, Headmaster Dippet, made sure to clean me before and after every sorting…"

I frowned. I didn't remember the hat being so talkative.

"Well excuse me for having a personality, then!"

Unsure of how to reply to that, I briefly wondered how much of my mind the hat could peer into. I hoped it wasn't everything, but the Sorting Hat's next words were like a splash of ice-cold water to me.

"Oh everything!" the hat said, quite cheerfully too. "But I'm here to sort you and nothing else. Now… Let's see…"

I gripped my knees tightly as the hat grew silent. Minutes seem to stretch on forever before the hat's voice sounded in my head once more.

"You're an odd one indeed." it hummed. "Wise beyond your years, for obvious reasons, but not one for hoarding knowledge like Rowena did. Always a means to an end for you. Salazar would be proud. Ambitious too! Quite the pickle you've put me in. Alas, Slytherin is not for you."

I released a grateful sigh at that and relaxed a little as I waited for the hat to continue.

This conversation alone was enough to tell me that Hogwarts sorted way too early. Unlike me, everyone else in my year were children in both body and mind. Children who had no real grasp of who they were or what they wanted to be and do in life. And for them to be told that being one way was bad and that they should instead be another was one of the most moronic things I'd ever heard.

"Well, excuse me," the hat huffed. "But I have to do the best with what I've been given. Or as you children say nowadays, I've simply played the hand I've been dealt— and superbly well for the most part, I'd say. Though I do concede that we sort a tad too early here."

I froze. The last thing I expected was the hat to agree with me.

The Sorting Hat ignored me and carried on. "Hard work seems to be something you have in spades, and whilst friendship is important, it seems that you have no problems with being alone. You are a funny one! Loyalty is something you believe is earned, not given. I see… — Quite true, quite true. And though you would settle in well with Godric's lot, the place for you is— HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat was ripped off my head in an instant, the sudden exposure to light causing my eyes to prickle. I stood up, slightly disoriented, and made my way towards the roaring applause of the Hufflepuff table where I was pulled down onto the bench by a wiry looking fellow.

He took my hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Good to have you! My name is Aaron Cooper, a fourth-year." he smiled, abruptly letting my arm go mid-shake as the next name was called up to be sorted.

There was a momentary pause before the hat screamed, "RAVENCLAW" and the girl seated on the stool skipped towards the Ravenclaw table, her robes showing her affiliation to the house as she did so.

"Black, Sirius!"

A smattering of soft mutters swept across the hall and the same boy from moments earlier began to whisper to me. "That's Sirius Black, the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. They usually get sorted into Slytherin."

Though he was shocked into silence when the hat yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Sirius swaggered over towards the lions, as happy as a clam.

I turned to him, unable to stop my smile and raised an eyebrow. "You were saying?"

He sputtered, promising me that it was true, and that all the other members of his family went to Slytherin.

I snorted, and stared at the figure of a newly-minted Hufflepuff rushing towards us. He was a plump boy, with stubborn baby fat clinging to his cheeks and a mop of brown hair. He took a seat on the other side of the wiry boy and watched the rest of the sorting. There wasn't much more opportunity for conversation as I stared at the starry sky above, tuning out the rest of the sorting. That was until I heard something that made my eyes goggle.

"Evans, Lily!"

And almost as soon as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head, it yelled out, "RAVENCLAW!"

Lily removed the hat and placed it back on the stool. Grinning, she sped off towards the eagles and into the arms of her beaming sister.

Just another thing that was different in this damned world.

The rest of the sorting flew by much faster. Quite a few people I didn't recognise were shuffled between the four houses. The rest of the Marauders ended up in Gryffindor barring Remus who ended up going to Ravenclaw— something I'd expected, but still surprised me regardless.

Would the Marauders even end up banding together? The remaining three certainly wouldn't become Animagi with Remus having ended up in Ravenclaw.

I cursed under my breath. Even more changes. At this point, I may as well have been running blind. So many things were different that I didn't even know if the future I remembered would end up playing out. Leaning backwards, I craned my neck and swept my gaze over the remaining first years. There were a few familiar faces left like Pettigrew and Snape, but the rest were a sea of unfamiliar figures.

The boy I'd seen on the train earlier—Stebbins—had also been sorted into Ravenclaw. Snape went to Slytherin, followed by a few more students who were quickly sorted into all four houses, bringing an end to the sorting.

For all my knowledge, I found myself at a loss for the most part. It seemed I'd have to get as strong as possible— so strong that any differences wouldn't matter. All I could do was hope that the main events—like where Voldemort put all of his horcruxes—remained untouched.

The hall grew silent as Dumbledore stood up to announce the start of the feast.

"Students, both new and old," his cobalt eyes swept around the hall. He smiled at us, his eyes promising that there was nowhere else he wanted to be but here. "I welcome you, once more, to another year at Hogwarts. Whilst I could go on for hours about how dearly I have missed you all in your absence,"

There was a round of laughter at this, though it quietened as Dumbledore began to speak. "I will not. I hope your summer was enjoyable and that you have all returned ready and willing to tackle the next academic year. I must, however, express to the fifth and seventh-years that you have entered a critical juncture in your education. Your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s will, in no uncertain terms, determine the trajectory of your future. It would do well, therefore, for you to take to your studies like you have never done before."

Tuning out the speech, I tugged at the elder Hufflepuff's sleeve wanting to confirm something. "What is it?" he grunted, eyes firmly planted on Dumbledore as the elderly wizard went on with his speech.

"Nothing much. I heard the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor is cursed. Is that true?"

This time, he turned to me. "Where'd you hear that?"

"On the train."

He looked around us before leaning in close. "Well, you're right, or at least, I think you're right. We haven't had a professor stay on for more than a year. Not in the four years I've been here, and definitely not in the years before me."

"Is that so…" I hummed.

It seemed some things remained the same after all. Curious, I stared at the teacher's table at the front of the hall, looking at the people who would be my professors for the foreseeable future— barring Defence Against the Dark Arts for obvious reasons.

I spotted a few familiar, albeit younger figures in the bunch, like Professor McGonagall. I had to admit that she didn't look anything like Maggie Smith. Her dark green eyes were angular and lacked any of the famed sternness that I'd read about and her black hair was pulled back into a… ponytail? What happened to only letting our hair down in celebration?

She looked about the hall, smiling kindly at the few students who met her gaze, something that completely threw me off. Almost as much as the glistening ring on her finger.

Professor Flitwick was also noticeably younger, though his jet-black hair had a few odd grey streaks running through it. The same for his wispy beard. He looked slightly nervous too. None of the nonchalance I remembered him for. Perhaps he'd only been teaching for a couple of years. I grinned at the thought. A Flitwick still fresh from duelling would be a treat to learn under, no doubt.

What surprised me the most was when a slightly younger and less plump looking Sprout laid a comforting hand over his, to which Flitwick responded with a smile. I had no idea the two were ever romantically involved but once again, most things I knew weren't really useful anymore. I'd go as far as to say that some of these assumptions would probably end up hurting me in the long run.

On Sprout's left sat a stern-looking woman sitting ramrod straight. She looked fairly young, but I made no assumptions as to what her age was. With magic, anything was possible. She had straight strawberry-blonde hair, and flinty brown eyes that were staring at the back of Dumbledore's head. Her hand often strayed from the table to the wand holster at her hip. Perhaps she was an auror, or some kind of combatant?

Either way, I was intrigued as to how she'd teach us. Next to her sat an ancient wizard wearing a stereotypical wizard's hat. Woven onto the front of it was a silvery half-moon peeking over a fluffy cloud. Safe to say that he was our Astronomy professor.

I met the gaze of Archimedes, who winked at me before whispering something to Slughorn. He was exactly as I'd imagined him. A bushy golden moustache, balding but equally golden hair, and warm brown eyes. Pretty much you standard portly gentleman— with a penchant for connections.

And lastly, on the end of the table sat Professor Kettleburn. Although his face was pretty scarred, most of his limbs were still attached to him, to my surprise.

As much as I was enjoying amateurishly analysing and predicting the behaviours of all the professors, it was probably a little disrespectful. Both to them, and to Dumbledore who was still giving his speech. Especially if the dirty look from one seventh-year girl sat a few seats away from me was any indication.

"...And to our new arrivals." he looked around the hall, seeming to glance at each of us first years in turn— and there were quite a few of us. "I would like to extend the warmest welcome from me to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I sincerely hope that you will all be absolutely enthralled by all the magic on display here, and will immerse yourself in the knowledge that this castle has to offer to each and every one of you."

Excited murmurs broke out across the hall to which he simply raised a hand, quieting the hall almost instantly. Talk about presence.

"Now, you may know her for her recent successful capture of a cell of African Shamans ensnaring the local populace who if left unchecked, would have subjugated the entire region of West Africa with Juju and Dark Magic. Had she not done so, many innocents would have sadly lost their lives. I ask that you join me in giving a warm welcome to the ICW Hit Wizard, renowned Bounty Hunter, and more recently, Defence Against Dark Arts Professor of Hogwarts: Professor Irena Brezova!"

The strawberry-blonde woman stood up to the roaring applause of the Great Hall and inclined her head before taking a seat.

Impressive; if there was one word I'd use to describe her, it'd be that. Her feats and accolades were one thing, but her gaze was sharp enough to make multiple people sit up straight— myself included. However, the realisation that she would only stay the year soon removed the excited smile from my face.

"With that said, I would also like to make the point that the restricted section of the library, which you will undoubtedly discover soon, is generally off-limits to students. However," he raked his eyes over the hall. "You may obtain explicit permission from your professors to give to the castle's librarian, Madam Pince, if they deem you to be mature enough to do so. Moving on, Mr. Pringle—the castle's caretaker—has also expressed his position on what he deems as 'foolish behaviours' in the corridors. I expect that you will carry yourselves with all the grace and poise that Hogwarts students should."

Dumbledore flourished both his arms to the side, seeming to conjure food onto the numerous golden plates in the hall.

To say that I was blown away by the display of magic—even if he didn't really do it himself—was the understatement of the century. One moment, there was no food, and the next, there was… Alongside the captivating aroma circling around our table.

And sure it wasn't anything impressive on its own—my stomach certainly seemed to think the opposite—but I still thought it was amazing.

Magic was a lifelong wish of every person I'd ever known. Or at least, almost everybody, at some point in their lives, wished to be able to perform magic. So for me not only to witness it, but to be told that I could do so was truly amazing and not something I could accurately put into words.

With a shake of my head, I reached for one of the empty plates and peered around.

As far along the table as I could see were mountains of English food. There were several steak and kidney pies, steaming whole chickens, towering stacks of yorkshire pudding, and piping hot piles of vegetables. I picked and chose anything that caught my fancy, supping in quiet satisfaction for the most part. It was all smooth sailing until I sipped from the golden goblet before me and screwed my eyes shut at the taste.

Whoever thought that pumpkin juice was a good idea clearly had more than a few screws loose.

"God that was gross…" I muttered. The juice vanished from the cup, being replaced by something that tasted pretty fruity—not quite orange, but not anything I could accurately discern either. Regardless, it was miles better than pumpkin juice.

I'd have to ask the House Elves for the recipe. Staring at the liquid. I sloshed it around a little. "I don't know what you are, but I will welcome you with open arms."

OOOO

I woke up the next day feeling more well-rested than I ever had before. I didn't know if Hogwarts' beds were just that much better— or maybe magically enhanced to make sure I slept as best as I could. Eventually, though, I chalked it down to sleeping on that rickety bed at home.

Yawning, I stumbled into the bathroom.

To my utter surprise, the Hufflepuff dormitories gave each student an ensuite room to themselves. I'd expected that Helga would've had students bunk together to foster a sense of family, but I guess even she understood that sometimes, people needed to be alone. And with puberty over the horizon once more, I was happy that I didn't have to sit through the shit-show that was teenage drama— or at least, not more than was necessary.

There were more interesting things to do and discover. The chief of which being magic.

After a quick shower, I swung on my now golden-yellow robes and moved towards the common room through the tunnel-like passages of the Hufflepuff basement. It wasn't too early in the morning, so I shouldn't have been surprised when a couple of older students were scattered across the common room on the comfortable couches and at the few desks positioned around the room.

It was honestly larger than I'd expected. The ceilings were much higher than I thought. Every once in a while, you'd see the ankles of a passerby cut through the grass out of the windows circling the common room. In fact, the windows were positioned closer to the ceiling than they were to the floor, and like the circular design of the common room, the windows were equally spherical in nature.

A plethora of plants had been hung across the golden walls, on top of the coffee tables, and even on the desks. In front of the great fireplace at the common room's centre was a huge still painting of Helga Hufflepuff herself. She sat under the shade of a great tree, toasting her students with her signature two-handled golden cup and a beaming smile on her face, the fire crackling and hissing just beneath the painting of her.

I took a seat on one of the armchairs facing her painting, relaxing into the seat. My bag had been packed for the day and was at the foot of the chair. We hadn't been given our timetables yet, so I brought everything I thought I'd need. Meaning all of my textbooks, and of course, my wand and wand holster. Leaning my neck against the back of the armchair, my feet dangling, I opened up 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1'.

My eyes roamed the pages until I found a familiar spell titled: 'The Levitation Charm'. I pulled my wand out of its holster, grinning at the contact, and aimed it at a pencil I'd pulled out of my stationary case.

Relaxing, I gathered my will to levitate the pencil and flourished my wand. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The pencil rolled over, one side slightly rising from its position on the coffee table before slumping. Was I fucking up somewhere?

Frowning, I stared at it for a few moments and tried again. "Wingardium Leviosa."

This time, it floated a little weakly— barely hovering.

Impatiently, I chewed my lip and stared at the pencil, a little put-out by my lack of success. This was, of course, only logical. I couldn't expect to cast it on my first go. However, after a few more minutes of unsuccessful casting, I'd had enough. I set my wand on the table and grabbed the textbook hoping that I'd find out where I was going wrong.

From what I could tell, the spell enabled the caster to allow objects to float. Not much was really explained besides the incantation and appropriate wand movement. Slightly disappointed, I picked up my wand and did my best to imagine how I could make the pencil fly. Perhaps visualising it being pulled up by a set of strings or imagining it float would work?

Brandishing my wand, I readied myself and tried to picture the image in my mind. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The pencil, at first, stayed completely still. Though the stillness felt different this time. I could feel that something was happening, even whilst the pencil stayed completely still. Curious, I raised my wand, and the pencil rose with it, remaining level with the tip of my wand at all times.

As giddy as I was, I kept my focus on the pencil. Grinning, I moved the pencil left and right, going faster and faster with each wave of my wand. It wasn't a surprise, therefore, when my focus slipped and the pencil went flying off down the common room. I winced, watching the pencil hurtle across the room and hit an older girl hunched over a textbook across the back of the head.

She picked up the pencil and stomped towards me, anger written all over her face.

"Listen here, kid," she hissed, jabbing me with her finger. "I'm trying to study right now. It's my final year here and I can't afford to mess anything up."

I didn't really know what her problem was. It wasn't even the start of the first day yet, but still, I was undoubtedly in the wrong here.

"My bad." I smiled, taking the pencil from her outstretched hand and slipping it into my pocket. "I was just really excited when I got the spell down and then my control slipped. Sorry about that."

Her face softened a little, but she was still frowning. "Just be careful next time. There's a reason why teachers are present when you first-years learn new spells— especially when you first-years learn new spells. What if you screw something up and then end up hurting someone?"

I frowned, but said nothing, watching her stomp off back to the desk. Turning, I sheathed my wand and returned my books to my bag. It seemed that I'd had enough practice for the time being.

Maybe next time I could try visualising in a different way. "A slightly more stable way than strings…"

Sighing contentedly from the armchair once more, I opened up my bookmarked page in 'Magical Theory' and began to read as quietly as I could.

A few minutes into reading, one of the Hufflepuff prefects—a girl named Viola Moss—strode into the common room with the rest of my year in tow. Most looked disgruntled at the early start— I even felt a little bad for them. The first day of term sucked if you weren't used to rising at the buttcrack of dawn.

The other prefect was bringing up the rear, a guiding hand placed on the shoulder of a stumbling child who had his eyes closed. His grey eyes flashed in mirth as he shared an amused glance with Viola. For the life of me, I couldn't remember his first name, but I knew his last was Allen… probably. Though I might've been mixing it up with the boy standing next to him.

She stopped at the door, her eyes roaming over the room. It didn't take her long to reach me.

"I've spent the last fifteen minutes looking for you, you know. First-years are never up this early." she grumbled, folding her arms, her annoyance clear. Though I could tell that she wasn't truly as annoyed as she made herself out to be. She stared at me for a few moments and snorted, helping me out of the chair. "There's always one of you each year. Well, come on then."

I circled around her and took my place amongst the crowd of half-asleep preteens. By then, one of the children spoke up from behind me, somewhat awake. He was tall for an eleven-year-old, with long arms and legs to boot. His straight brown hair hung low over his face, pretty much obscuring his eyes from view.

"Where are we going?" he yawned, brushing his hair aside to rub at his bleary eyes.

Viola smiled and tied back her raven hair into a ponytail, her violet eyes flashing humorously. "Where do you think?" she walked over to the common room's exit.

Curious, the rest of the children followed her.

She opened it and forged on, though not before looking over her shoulder to answer the boy's question. "To breakfast, of course. Make sure to stay in front of Eric at all times please. Wouldn't want to lose one of you now, would we?"

Now I remembered his name. It was Eric. Eric Aldritch. I nodded contentedly and fell in step beside Viola, making note of any useful landmarks for the future.

OOOO

Breakfast was pleasantly uneventful. In fact the most notable thing to happen during the hour was the distribution of our timetables for the year. Getting to our first class of the day—which happened to be Charms—was an adventure all on its own.

It mostly consisted of my housemates following me around like a bunch of ducklings as I annoyed the older students on their way to class. Not that I minded it too much. I actually found it funny when all my housemates' excitement fizzled out upon meeting the disgruntled gaze of the older students— though not all of them were like that. The vast majority were welcoming, but that didn't seem to make any difference to them.

Eventually, we made our way down the Charms Corridor thanks to generous advice of the older years— something I noticed when we walked past a portrait of several drunken monks lazing about in a stone courtyard. They waved at us languidly and continued guzzling down copious amounts of alcohol like there was no tomorrow.

This was not lost on the children, of course.

"Did you see the portrait?" one of the children behind me whispered. His tone was scandalous, as if the monks were committing the greatest sin known to man.

Another was quick to reply, excitement rippling through her voice. "I know right?! They were drinking."

I snorted and peered through the half-open door to our left. Thankfully, I wasn't leaning against it when it opened.

"You made it on time after all." Flitwick said. He raised his eyebrows after spotting me—something I didn't fail to notice—but quickly masked it with a smile and opened the door all the way, inviting us through. "Come in, come in. Good to meet you all. The Ravenclaws are already here courtesy of myself being their Head of House."

True to his word, about a dozen blue-robed kids were scattered around the class. I noticed the familiar figure of Remus tucked away in the back of the class, his face hidden from view. Not missing a beat, I walked over towards him and set my stuff down on the table. A couple other Hufflepuff's followed me, but the rest took seats elsewhere.

"You alright, Remus?" I asked him, taking out my copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1'.

He yawned, and took his head out of his arms. "I'm alright. A bit tired, but alright."

"How's Ravenclaw treating you?" I asked him, placing my wand on the table.

His eyes brightened. "It's honestly amazing. There are so many books on anything and everything. Though one of our prefects is a bit… unpleasant."

"A prick, you mean?"

He blanched at the quite frankly vulgar language, but nodded. "He told us to meet him in the Great Hall and then disappeared. Thing is, we didn't know where the Great Hall was. Thankfully Esmerelda—the other prefect—was there."

I winced. Poor kids. "Well, at least you've got one decent prefect, right?"

He grunted in acceptance as Flitwick began the lesson. Standing atop a stack of books at the front of the class, he raised a hand to silence the class.

"Thank you." he said. "Now, Charms. A branch of magic that, like Transfiguration, pervades every part of life for witches and wizards. Now, what is a charm? Can anybody tell me?"

At first, nobody raised a hand. I waited a little longer to see if anyone would bite, but they didn't.

Flitwick waved towards me. "Yes Mr…?"

"Azar. Cyrus Azar." I supplied. "A charm is a spell that imbues something with an effect. I say something because there doesn't seem to be a limit to what charms can be applied to. People, animals, objects, food. You name it."

Flitwick chuckled. "Quite right, quite right. Well-put Mr. Azar, take five points for Hufflepuff." he said. "Indeed, as Mr. Azar said, a charm is a spell that imbues the target with a desired effect. Charms can be used in almost any sense, but unlike Transfiguration, we are not altering the target of the spell in any way whatsoever." he picked up a quill from his desk. "Take this quill for example. If I were to charm it to jump across the table, it would, at the end, still remain a quill."

He stopped, smiling at the raised hand of a familiar redheaded Ravenclaw girl. "Yes Miss…?"

"Evans, professor. Lily Evans." she said. "So charms don't actually do anything to the object itself?"

"Precisely." he nodded. "Now, talking about charms, it's time for today's spell." Flitwick chuckled at the excited whispers of the class. "Although simple, this charm is perhaps one of the most useful spells you will ever learn. Please turn to chapter one."

He waited for the class to quieten before he continued.

"The Mending Charm is a spell that fixes broken objects. That may sound like a miracle, but the spell does have its caveats. The Mending Charm can only repair things that have been broken up to a certain point." he freed his wand and conjured a strip of cloth. "See this cloth?" he waved his wand and cut it in half before repairing it. "It's completely restored. But when I do this…" he shredded it until the previously unblemished cloth was in tatters at his feet. And no matter how many times he cast the Mending Charm, the pieces of cloth wouldn't move. "It cannot be restored to its original shape."

I was following everything so far. I'd made it through a decent bit of theory thanks to studying at home so I wasn't too worried about noting things down. I'd written enough in advance.

"We'll spend the rest of the allocated class time trying to cast the spell successfully." he instructed, sliding his wand into his own holster. "If you open the drawers beside each of you, you will each find two items: a tattered book and some kind of broken metal trinket. I would like you to place the book in front of you."

Sliding open the drawer, I placed the book on the desk. Flitwick wasn't kidding when he said it was tattered. In fact, the thing was so ancient that the title had long since faded. The only indication of lettering being the tail end of surprisingly stubborn but ultimately dwindling golden S.

"Repeat the incantation after me: reh-PAH-roh. Good, once more. Reh-PAH-roh." Flitwick walked through the necessary wand gestures, making sure we had it down pat before setting us off.

I narrowed my eyes at the decently thick book on the table. The spell's instructions were as concise as always. It went: wand movement, incantation, and what the spell did. No tips on what to think of when casting. Though I reckoned most would obviously follow the titling of each spell.

Staring at it would get me nowhere, so I gripped my wand and trained it on the book. To repair. An ambiguous word to me, since I didn't really know how the book looked prior to being weathered by the passage of time. I sat still for a few moments longer before sticking my hand up. Flitwick noticed it in a heartbeat and made his way towards me— there was no way I'd be able to hear him over the noise.

"Sir, is there any way for me to know what the book looked like well… before?" I asked.

The short man blinked. "Why would you need to?"

Not expecting the question, I stumbled over my words before taking a breath to compose myself. "Well, if I could have an accurate picture of what the book looked like, I could focus on the whole "repairing" part of the spell."

He smiled. "You're thinking too much, Mr. Azar." he said. "The only thing necessary is that you should want to repair the book. Knowing what the book looked like is completely irrelevant. Just be sure to maintain your focus, make the right wand movements, and enunciate the words properly and you should do fine."

I nodded mutely and watched the Charms Master walk away, no doubt to help another stuck student.

To want to repair the book, huh? I placed a hand over the worn cover and traced my finger over the faded letter.

I closed my eyes, my wand held out in front of me. "Reparo."

I opened my eyes. Now, the book looked well-used, instead of a relic of the past. Progress was progress, no matter the form. Once more, I raised my wand, affirming my desire to make sure the book was as fresh as possible— imagining the slightly leathery scent of a newly published book. "Reparo."

I watched the faded lettering slowly come to life, a sleek golden trail curving over the top of the cover eventually forming legible words. The cover's lifeless black grew to a more vibrant navy blue. The book seemed to rejuvenate itself until I sat before a copy of a book titled: 'Everyday Charms for Everyday Wizards'.

"Huh, neat." I smiled, holding the book out in front of me. "Look Remus."

The young werewolf looked up from his own book. "Oh, wow." he blinked. "That was quick."

I snorted. "You look like you're pretty close." I pointed towards his own book. "One more cast should do it, I think."

He nodded, his face serious and brought the tip of his wand closer to the book.

I raised my hand and waited for Flitwick to notice. It didn't take long. The man scurried over to our table from the other side of the class.

"What is it, Mr. Azar?" he asked. I gestured towards the book. "Oh, well done! Well done indeed. Another five points to Hufflepuff. Now, try repairing the watch, I believe you ended up with. Though I will say that there is a reason I asked you to start with the book first. Don't be too disheartened if you're unable to repair the watch."

As he began to walk away, I called out. "Sir?" he stopped and turned back. I lifted up the book. "Can I keep this?"

He smiled at me and his brown eyes gleamed appreciatively. "I don't see why not." he said before turning to the rest of the class and speaking up. "In fact, if you can succeed in repairing your objects, then feel free to take them."

I almost laughed out loud at the furious whispers of the class at his challenge. I slipped the book into my satchel, satisfied, and placed the sharp black and grey wristwatch on the table.

I thumbed the watch's crystal and smiled. "Time to see what makes you tick."

**********

Now, if you want to peek at the next few chapters in advance, you know where to go. Enter the Patréon link at the start of the chapter and navigate to the site-that-shall-not-be-named for your goodies.

If you'd like to become part of a community, get to know me more—who wouldn't, right?— then join the Discord Server. It's linked down below but I'll post both the code itself and the link. ↓↓↓

BW8YWjwMEF

https://discord.gg/BW8YWjwMEF