A Prank War Approaches

Dawn at Hogwarts was always magical, but there was something especially enchanting about these early November mornings. I'd grown accustomed to waking before sunrise, which would have shocked my past self – the one who treated every morning like a personal battle against consciousness. But magic had changed everything, hadn't it? When you could literally make your dreams real, sleep lost some of its appeal.

The stone floor was ice-cold against my bare feet as I padded across my room to where my guitar stood on its custom-built stand. Through the window, I could see frost patterns creeping across the glass like delicate silver ferns, it had started to snow a bit over a week ago.

Christmas break was approaching, bringing with it the promise of home, though I knew I'd miss Hogwarts terribly once I left. The human mind was funny that way – always wanting to be somewhere else, even when 'somewhere else' was a literal castle of magic.

A gentle snow had begun to fall, each flake drifting past my window like tiny stars descending from the heavens. In the distance, smoke curled from Hagrid's chimney, a lone sign of early morning life on the grounds. I really had to go visit him before I left just to meet and study other magical creatures before I left.

I settled myself on the windowsill, one leg dangling precariously over the edge. The pre-dawn air bit at my skin, carrying the crisp scent of pine from the Forbidden Forest and the mineral freshness of the Great Lake.

Below, the grounds stretched out like a charcoal sketch, the moments of night just before sunrise where really the best. Somewhere in the common room, I could hear the rustle of parchment and scratch of quills – my fellow Ravenclaws, already deep in their studies, their dedication almost as predictable as the sunrise itself.

My fingers found their positions on the guitar strings without conscious thought, my peculiar memory doing the work for me. I'd grown obsessed with music almost as much as magic – they weren't so different, really.

Both were about patterns, about making something from nothing, about turning the invisible into the tangible. The tremolo arm bounced as I played a C sharp, the note hanging in the cold morning air like frozen crystal. In moments like this I felt at peace with myself, without my constant questions and wonders buzzing in my mind.

The first rays of sunlight caught my face, heating up my face and pajamas. I opened my eyes to the sun reflecting over the snow and lake making it all the more mesmerizing. Reluctantly, I slid back into my room, trading my guitar for my wand and the piece of parchment that I had borrowed last night.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," I whispered, touching my wand to the worn surface. The incantation was a bit ridiculous – whoever these Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were, they certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

Ink spread across the parchment like spilled coffee, forming the now-familiar map of Hogwarts, I could feel my magic move from my wand and into the map as more and more of the Hogwarts castle showed itself.

Two dots stood outside Ravenclaw Tower, labeled "Fred Weasley" and "George Weasley." I shook my head, admiring their persistence if not their timing. They would most likely keep trying to get it back, not like I was going to make it easy for them.

With a quick "Reducio," I shrunk the map and tucked it safely in my pocket, the enchanted parchment warm against my leg. 

The common room was peaceful at this hour, the blue and bronze hangings almost seeming to move as some light air hit them.

A few seventh years hunched over their books, their faces illuminated by floating orbs of magical light. They barely glanced up as I passed, too engrossed in their studies to care about another early-rising Ravenclaw.

Sure enough, when I opened the common room door, there stood the Weasley twins with wands raised, their ginger hair disheveled, I wondered what punishment Filch had given them, the thought made me smile.

"I Cast Total Tongue Awareness," I said.

Their attempted spells dissolved into meaningless babble, their tongues suddenly too present in their mouths to form proper words.

"Ba, bas-"

"Tru-"

Seems like that wasn't enough.

"I Cast Mass Laxative," I added, perhaps enjoying this more than I should. The spell hit them square in the chest, green sparkles dancing around them before being absorbed into their bodies. Their faces contorted in synchronized discomfort, freckles standing out against suddenly pale skin.

"You lost the map," I reminded them, watching as they struggled to maintain dignity while holding their asses. "I'll give it back when I see fit. Until then, I suggest you guys make it to a bathroom."

The stone walls seemed to amplify their discomfort, the portraits pretending not to watch while clearly enjoying the show.

They managed to force out a garbled threat between them – "We'll get you for this!" – but the effect was somewhat undermined by their urgent shuffle-run toward the nearest toilet. 

"That's what they all say," I called after them, though I was already turning my thoughts to my next destination. History of Magic could survive without me – the ghost teaching it certainly had.

Besides, Professor Binns probably wouldn't notice if the entire class was replaced by enchanted mannequins. Instead, I headed for Professor Flitwick's office, I wanted to ask him a few questions.

The corridor outside Flitwick's office was quiet, the portraits still drowsy in their frames, some quietly snoring in their painted chairs. A suit of armor creaked as I passed, its helmet turning to follow my movement. I

knocked, heard his cheerful "Come in!", and entered to find him conducting an impromptu ballet of cupcakes, one half-eaten in his hand, which honestly could have given the other cupcakes PTSD if they actually knew what had happened to their now half-eaten companion. The frosting had left a small smudge on his mustache that twitched as he smiled.

"Hey, Professor."

"Hello, Felix. Shouldn't you be in class in a few minutes?"

His eyes seemed to smile – we both knew I hadn't attended History of Magic since that first sleep-inducing lecture. Why bother when Bell or Drake could tell me the homework? Besides, self-study was practically a Ravenclaw tradition.

"Let's not think about that, Professor. I was wondering if you could help me with something?"

"You need help?" He raised an eyebrow, the cupcakes pausing mid-pirouette. "I already told you I'm not helping you 'borrow' the Ravenclaw doorknocker."

"It's not that, Professor." I pulled out the map, still active with its moving dots and shifting corridors. Flitwick's eyes lit up with professional interest as he examined it, his small fingers tracing the intricate details with the expertise of a master charm-worker.

"Very interesting, very interesting indeed," he murmured, the forgotten cupcakes slowly descending to his desk.

"It has a charm on it so as to find out the passwords of locked passages."

"It can do that?" He asked now more intrigued with the map. "Hmm, maybe it has a reading charm that could work, though I'm not sure if it actually works."

"A reading charm?"

"Yes, it was a charm developed by a man called Quillian Scrivner. It could read certain objects' magic circuits, though the responsibility of knowing how the magic moved belonged to the caster, meaning that a person had to first understand how a password was chosen."

The name Scrivner sent a jolt through me – another potential connection to whatever a Scribe was. 

"When do we learn the reading charm?"

"We don't have it in the curriculum since, except for mapping like this, it is basically useless, though I could find the book on charms similar to it so you can read through it."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Also, are you sure you don't want me to tell you what mix of charms makes an object sentient?"

I shot him a look that made him smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I guess I'll take that as a no."

Now you may be wondering why I would make it harder for myself. Well, for one, sentience in objects had been the first mystery of magic I had been introduced to.

Besides, where would the fun be in getting told how it worked?

Now it may sound hypocritical since I had asked how the password was shown in the map, that was just because I wanted to build a map better than this for myself. Why did I want to build a map for myself when I already had this one?

Simple - I didn't like having names of other people on my stuff, plus the incantation for it to work was stupid.

"Though Felix, I've heard you play the guitar. Are you sure you don't want to play for the school orchestra? Even your voice would be amazing for the Hogwarts Choir."

Suddenly I felt very embarrassed, heat reaching the top of my neck and crawling it's way to my face. I loved playing or singing but definitely not in front of people; having all of them stare at me was really, really uncomfortable.

"Sorry, Professor, the answer is still no." Flitwick only sighed as he flicked his wand, bringing a book to the desk. "Here it is. Please return it once you're finished."

I nodded at his words before speeding out of the office, map and book in hand.

A/N: If we reach 400 stones in 24 hours, I'll upload an extra chap

If you want to read ten advanced chapters, you can do so at Patreon.com/JoanjudoStories