Chapter 11
Elwin paused his movements and looked up in surprise.
"That's right,"
he replied, "How did you know?"
Hermione let out a long sigh of relief, as if a puzzle that had been hanging for a long time had finally been solved.
"It really is you,"
her tone brightened, "When I heard the name during the Sorting Ceremony, I had a vague suspicion."
After saying this, she frankly extended her hand, a faint smile of reuniting with an old acquaintance appearing in her eyes.
"My name is Hermione Granger, I was your primary school classmate. Although I was in Class Four back then, I've been familiar with your name for a long time.
I barely saw you at school a few times all year, but for every exam, you got full marks in every subject."
Only then did Elwin realize that he and Hermione had actually attended the same primary school.
In the past, he had been busy making a living and rarely stepped onto campus, so naturally, he hadn't recognized her.
If he had known earlier that they were classmates, perhaps he would have... He shook his head slightly, stopping those untimely thoughts.
Elwin reached out and briefly shook Hermione's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Granger.
It seems there's a strong fate between us."
"Just call me Hermione."
The young girl's gaze was earnest and firm. "In primary school, you were always a step ahead of me. Now that we're at Hogwarts, I won't give up easily—one day, I will surpass you."
She spoke solemnly, as if making a vow.
Elwin couldn't help but smile; this girl was still as serious as ever.
However, this stubbornness was actually quite cute.
"Mr. Gaunt, if I were you, what I should be doing right now is not chatting with classmates, but immediately adding the snake fang powder into the cauldron."
Snape's low, cold voice came from the side, and Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed red.
Elwin, however, remained composed, calmly pouring the powder into the pot and stirring slowly.
Seeing that he wasn't the least bit flustered, Snape didn't dwell on it further, instead drifting toward Harry's side like a silent bat.
He watched Harry's every move intently, as if ready to snap a reprimand at any moment.
An hour later, the young wizards filed out of the Potion Class classroom, most looking exhausted and dejected.
Harry was particularly despondent, looking as if his spirit had been drained, his gaze vacant—just moments ago, because of an operational error, Snape had deducted five points from Gryffindor.
Elwin deliberately stayed behind until the end.
Seeing Harry in such a state, he felt it was necessary to have a talk with Snape.
He didn't fear the Professor's scrutiny, but being watched so closely for a long time would ultimately be a nuisance.
"Mr. Gaunt, I believe it is time for you to leave my classroom.
Or would you prefer I arrange a detention for you?"
A familiar opening; Severus Snape was at it again, that unique sense of pressure as pervasive as always.
Elwin didn't beat around the bush and cut straight to the point.
"Professor, I believe we need to have a talk."
Snape remained silent, his deep, pool-like black eyes resting motionlessly on the boy before him, devoid of any ripples.
Elwin continued.
"I'm sorry, Professor, what happened at the Sorting Ceremony was not my intention.
But you saw it yourself—the Hat's decision was so fast there was no time to react."
"As you know, although I come from the Gaunt Family, I am a half-blood.
From what I understand, Slytherin might not be very friendly to a student like me."
"For me personally, Ravenclaw is a more suitable choice.
It's better for me, and better for the other students of Slytherin."
After finishing, Elwin quietly looked at Snape, waiting for his response.
Snape's face showed no emotion whatsoever.
He just stood there, silently watching Elwin.
For a moment, the classroom fell into complete silence.
Elwin could even clearly hear Snape's slow, soft breathing.
After an unknown amount of time, Snape finally spoke.
"Mr. Gaunt, some things can end here with me.
But the behavior of certain students, even if I am their Dean, may not be entirely within my control."
Elwin secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Things had finally taken a turn.
He had hoped to establish a good relationship with Snapeand consult him more on Potions knowledge.
"Of course, Professor.
I only care about your attitude; as for others, they are not important.
In that case, please allow me to take my leave."
With that, Elwin gave a slight bow and then turned to leave the classroom.
Snape watched Elwin's departing back, remaining motionless for a long time.
His profound gaze seemed to pierce through the wall in front of him, landing on some distant corner.
"If... if the me from back then could have been like him... Lily, would our ending have been different?"
Snape whispered to himself, a barely perceptible moisture vaguely appearing in his eyes.
...
Naturally, Elwin had no way of knowing what Snape was thinking.
At this moment, he was intercepted at a corridor corner by Fred and George, one on each side.
"Ah! Distinguished Young Master Gaunt, good afternoon—"
Fred and George said in unison with exaggerated tones, bowing comically to Elwin.
Elwin rolled his eyes helplessly.
"Stop joking, do you need something from me?"
Fred smiled and put an arm around his shoulder, acting very familiar.
"George and I officially invite you to join tonight's Hogwarts night exploration—this Saturday, midnight, fourth-floor right-hand corridor, be there or be square."
A bit of curiosity rose in Elwin's heart, wondering what The Twins were actually planning.
Since he had nothing to do over the weekend anyway, he might as well go see what they were up to.
So he agreed readily with a nod.
Seeing him agree so quickly, George and Fred put their arms around each other's shoulders and left grinning.
After sending off those two rowdy fellows, Elwin hurried to the Great Hall and hurriedly ate a few bites of lunch—he had History of Magic Class in the afternoon, and time was a bit tight.
In the History of Magic Class, Elwin didn't last long before falling asleep.
The lecturer, Professor Binns, was a ghost whose lecturing tone was as flat as a straight line, without any ups or downs, making it impossible to stop feeling drowsy.
Elwin barely listened for ten minutes before finally giving in, sinking into a dreamland under Hermione's disappointed gaze.
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's Office on the eighth floor, Snape and Dumbledore sat facing each other.
A conversation about Elwin was about to begin.
***
The Headmaster's Office was located on the eighth floor of the Castle.
It was a spacious circular room with soft, bright light.
The surrounding walls were covered with portraits of past Headmasters; they seemed to be resting with their eyes closed, but from time to time, they would quietly lift an eyelid to peek at the movements in the room.
On the high stool behind the desk sat a worn and frayed pointed hat—if Elwin were here, he would surely recognize it as the Sorting Hat.
Snape and Dumbledore sat facing each other.
"So Severus, would you like a drink? Or some tea and snacks?"
Dumbledore asked gently, "Lemon Sherbet? Toffee Fingers? Or Cockroach Clusters?"
Snape frowned slightly and refused coldly: "No need, Headmaster.
I am here to discuss matters related to Elwin Gaunt."
Dumbledore seemed a bit disappointed, but upon hearing the second half, his expression gradually became serious.
He put down the book in his hand, folded his hands on the table, and waited quietly for the other to continue.
Severus Snape stood by the arched window of the Headmaster's Office, his dark robes almost merging into the shadows.
He heard the sound of porcelain tapping the wooden table as the old man behind him put down his teacup.
"Regarding Elwin Gaunt,"
Dumbledore's voice came from the edge of the crystal ball's soft light, "Are you willing to share your observations?"
Snape did not turn around.
He gazed at the silver ripples broken by moonlight on the surface of the Black Lake outside the window, his words as precise as drops of a Potion: "Clear objectives, rare talent, a style of conduct that combines coldness and efficiency."
A pause like a feather falling to the ground, "Additionally, he shows a level of proficiency in emotional relationships inconsistent with his age."
The blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles narrowed slightly.
The old Wizard's knuckles unconsciously tapped the hardcover of "Transfiguration Today"—this detail made Snape realize that his final, almost mocking addition had actually piqued the other's genuine interest.
"I must admit,"
Dumbledore leaned forward in his armchair, "your evaluation is richer than expected.
After all, that little confrontation at the Sorting Ceremony makes it easy to have a preconceived stance."
"Stances are a luxury, Headmaster."
Snape finally turned halfway, his black robes swirling a slight air current, "The dungeons of Hogwarts are piled with lists of ingredients enough to exhaust anyone's sympathy."
His speech was as flat as reading a recipe, "As for the potential risks the name Gaunt might carry—yes, I have considered them.
But history has no record of a Dark Lord who, in his first year, maintains two ambiguous relationships simultaneously while correcting a competitor's wrist angle in Transfiguration Class."
The fire in the fireplace suddenly leaped a few inches, tinting the ends of the old man's beard golden-red.
A very light chuckle melted into the crackling scent of pine wood.
"Bloodlines are indeed worth being wary of."
Dumbledore took a rusted family crest from a drawer, his fingertips brushing over the coiled snake relief on it, "Tom's study of such connections surpassed many Dark Artsscholars over the centuries.
When the shadows spread again, every soul associated with the name Gaunt could become a candle on the altar."
The corners of Snape's mouth tightened into a caustic arc.
He waited for the rest.
"So this August,"
the old Wizard suddenly blinked, and for that moment he looked like a child who had just discovered a new product from Honeydukes, "I conducted some private investigations."
The Potion Professor's face froze.
The portraits of past Headmasters on the office walls simultaneously stopped feigning sleep; at least three frames emitted suppressed coughs.
Snape took a slow, deep breath; the cloying scent of parchment and Lemon Sherbet in the air suddenly became unbearable.
The most respected guardian of the twentieth century actually used resources to spy on an eleven-year-old boy's summer movements.
This realization dissolved at the back of his tongue like some strange Potion—a mixture of absurdity, wariness, and a cold interest in re-evaluating the person before him.
The dark clouds outside happened to cover the moon, and darkness swallowed his profile.
Dumbledore's gaze rested steadily on Snape's face, seemingly unaware of the subtle fluctuations in the other's expression.
He continued in that gentle and certain tone: "I once visited the orphanage where he lived as a child.
The people there always spoke of him with great respect; he donates a considerable sum of money there every year to improve the children's lives."
"More importantly, he is accompanied by a Phoenix.
As you know, such creatures possess the power to dispel the gloom in one's heart and can grant a person extraordinary courage."
"Therefore, he is fundamentally different from Tom.
I ask you to keep an eye on him in the hope that you can provide some guidance at the right time to help him grow faster.
That way, when the future storms arrive, he will be more capable of facing them."
When Snape heard this, his face looked as if he had been forced to swallow something unbearable.
Asking a Slytherin Dean to guide a student who had rejected Slytherin was an arrangement that felt almost like a deliberate provocation.
However, that brief conversation in the Potion classroom suddenly surfaced in his mind, causing a moment of hesitation.
Dumbledore seemed able to pierce through his thoughts and immediately added: "Of course, Filius highly praised this young man's amazing talent in Charms yesterday.
He seems very willing to personally cultivate an outstanding Wizard for Ravenclaw."
"No need."
Snape curtly interrupted the Headmaster's words.
"He is, after all, the last bloodline of Slytherin remaining in Britain.
As the Dean of the House, I have a responsibility to give appropriate care to the founder's descendant."
"I will go and talk to Gaunt."
With that, he abruptly stood up and walked out without looking back, ending the meeting.
Dumbledore watched the black robes disappear behind the door, a barely perceptible curve appearing at the corner of his mouth as he whispered to himself: "Hogwarts seems to have welcomed another special young man, to actually make Severus care so much."
Chapter 12
At this moment, the portraits of past headmasters on the wall, which had remained silent until now, suddenly became active.
An old man in one of the frames looked particularly agitated, saying indignantly, "As a descendant of Slytherin, to actually choose to join Ravenclaw! This is simply a disgrace to pure-bloods!"
"Headmaster Black, Mr. Gaunt is not strictly speaking a pure-blood."
Dumbledore explained unhurriedly, "According to existing records, his mother inherited the bloodline of the Gaunt Family, while his father was just an ordinary Muggle."
These words made Headmaster Black in the portrait even more furious, and a series of intense, emotional sentences burst forth from the frame.
Another hot-tempered past headmaster nearby could no longer stand it. He suddenly stepped out of his own frame, rushed into Black's portrait, and delivered a punch right to the face, knocking the angry old man straight onto the floor within the painting.
The fierce dispute that broke out between the portraits quickly evolved into a free-for-all. Dumbledore merely stood by and watched, while the other portraits shouted and cheered for the hot-tempered old headmaster.
Two more headmasters were itching to try, nearly rushing out of their frames to join the fray.
It seemed that Headmaster Black was not very well-liked here.
Dumbledore turned a blind eye to the chaos between the portraits before him. His gaze was profound, with a hint of starlight swirling in his eyes, as if he were silently planning something.
In the blink of an eye, Elwin's first week at Hogwartsquietly slipped away.
His reputation as a "genius"
spread through the Castle like a gentle breeze.
In almost every class, he earned points for Ravenclaw—except for History of Magic.
Professor Binns never gave points to students.
Even more notably, Professor McGonagall publicly extended an invitation to him, hoping he would join her Transfiguration club.
This was unprecedented: a first-year student receiving such favor.
Soon, Elwin's name spread among the students.
Combined with his handsome features, no matter where he went, he could always sense a few pairs of eyes secretly following him.
Some younger girls would hurriedly look away with blushing cheeks the moment they met his gaze; there were also bolder ones who, instead of avoiding him, would wink at him generously, causing Cho beside him to purse her lips frequently and give him a quiet, light pinch on the waist.
On Friday afternoon, Elwin and Cho sat side-by-side in the Ravenclaw common room, heads down as they wrote on their parchment, with only the rustling sound of quills scratching across the paper echoing softly.
Elwin suddenly remembered the invitation from the Weasley Twins and turned his face to look at Cho beside him.
"George and Fred asked me to meet them at the fourth-floor corridor at midnight tomorrow,"
he lowered his voice, "do you want to come along?"
Cho looked up from her book, her eyelashes trembling slightly.
"Can I really go with you?"
Her tone was hesitant, but an uncontainable excitement flickered in the depths of her eyes.
Elwin couldn't help but laugh.
"Of course.
Though I'm not sure what they're up to, one more person won't hurt—I heard they invited other friends too."
Cho immediately pushed the scroll of parchment aside, tugging at Elwin's sleeve and firing off guesses about tomorrow night's adventure like a rapid-fire cannon, a faint blush on her cheeks.
Homework was already long forgotten; Elwin simply capped his ink bottle and let her pull him along as she talked incessantly.
The firelight from the hearth gradually dimmed within their dancing shadows.
The Saturday night was as thick as ink.
Near twelve o'clock, Elwin quietly walked through the boys' dormitory archway.
In the common room, only Cho remained, curled up alone in an armchair with the book "History of the Irish Quidditch Team" spread across her lap.
Her gaze drifted toward the stairs time and again; the pages hadn't been turned for a full ten minutes.
"Tired of waiting?"
Elwin lightly touched the tips of her hair.
Cho looked up with a blossoming smile, tossed aside her book, and took his outstretched hand.
The two slipped out of the warm doorway, and the chill of the corridor rushed to meet them.
Elwin drew his wand and gave Cho's shoulder a very light tap—her silhouette gradually faded like an ink wash painting submerged in water.
"This is..."
"The Disillusionment Charm."
He also let himself vanish into the air, leaving only the touch of their warm palms, "Hold on tight and don't let go, otherwise even I won't be able to find you."
In her invisibility, Cho curiously waved her other hand, and indeed, she saw only empty sleeves floating.
If George and Fred were to see this scene now, they would probably beat their chests in frustration—when they had pestered him to learn this spell, Elwin had only tossed them a notebook.
But Elwin would likely just raise an eyebrow: after all, you aren't little girls with bright eyes tugging on someone's sleeve.
The night was deep, the long corridor silent, with only the faint echo of footsteps on the stone floor.
Elwin and Cho walked side-by-side, fingers interlaced, making their way quietly all the way to the corner of the fourth-floor right-hand corridor.
In the dimness, three figures stood by the wall—it was The Twins, whose appearances were hard to distinguish, and standing beside them was a tall, dark-skinned boy.
The Disillusionment Charm quietly faded as Elwin raised his hand and gave a light wave in that direction.
"George! Fred!"
The three turned at the same time.
One of The Twins tilted his head, his tone drawn out and teasing:
"Truly worthy of being the heir of the Gaunt Family; even a midnight exploration must be accompanied by a fair lady."
Cho's ears turned slightly warm, and she lowered her gaze.
Although her relationship with Elwin was no longer a secret, hearing such direct teasing still made her feel a bit flustered.
Elwin laughed and gave the other's shoulder a light punch.
"This is Cho, my girlfriend. And this is...?"
His gaze fell upon the unfamiliar Black youth.
Before The Twins could speak, the boy took a half-step forward himself, grinning to reveal a particularly striking row of white teeth.
"I'm Lee Jordan, George and Fred's best mate."
They often mention you, Elwin Gaunt.
That thing you did before was brilliant—it's been a long time since anyone managed to make those two fail at a prank."
As he spoke, he even gave a thumbs-up, his expression frank and lively.
Cho couldn't help but turn her face away, pursing her lips to hold back a smile.
Lee Jordan's appearance was truly a bit adorably straightforward.
Elwin also curled his lips upward, but in his mind, a vague impression surfaced—the voice at the Quidditchcommentary box that always favored his own house and was frequently scolded by Professor McGonagall.
So he was their inseparable partner.
He nodded to Lee Jordan.
"Just call me Elwin."
After the few of them were briefly introduced, Elwin looked toward The Twins.
"So what exactly are we doing tonight? And what's... in that bag Lee is holding?"
George and Fred exchanged a look, mysterious smiles appearing on their faces simultaneously.
The two leaned in close to Elwin and lowered their voices:
"We're taking you to one of Hogwarts' most secret corners.
Guaranteed you'll love it.
As for what's in the bag... you'll find out when the time comes."
Before they had even finished speaking, the two of them each draped an arm over Lee Jordan's shoulders and turned to head down the stairs.
Elwin and Cho shared a look, helpless yet smiling, and silently followed behind them.
In the corridor where night had fallen, their footsteps were as light as feathers landing on the ground.
They didn't encounter the caretaker, nor did they see that vigilant cat.
As the stone steps gradually extended downward and the faint aroma of food drifted into the air, he suddenly understood the destination of this trip.
In a portrait, a silver bowl was filled with plump fruits, glowing with a soft luster in the dimness.
One of The Twins reached out and gently tickled the emerald-green pear with his fingertip.
The pear suddenly squirmed, letting out a silly chuckle, and then protruded and stretched from the flat world, transforming into a smooth doorknob.
Another hand gripped it and pulled inward—the door opened silently.
Behind the door was another world.
The towering ceiling seemed to touch the night sky, and the vast space was nearly equal to the Great Hall above.
Copper pots and silver plates were piled like shimmering hills against the walls, and hundreds of small figures scurried busily among them like a swarm of industrious fireflies.
An older House-elf stepped forward quickly and bowed deeply. "Good evening, esteemed Mr. Weasley and your friends.
My name is Ning'en, and it is an honor to serve you."
His voice was weak and respectful, clearly already familiar with these two visitors.
The Twins smiled and waved their hands, their tone as familiar as if they were in their own living room. "Sorry to bother you, get us something to eat, something hot.
And some dessert, oh, and a pot of Black tea with a few cups."
***
When they walked out of the kitchen, Cho was still immersed in a sort of daze.
It wasn't until they stepped into an abandoned classroom, where the old blackboard and dusty desks pulled her back to reality.
"I never thought... the Castle hid so many House-elves."
She said softly, her eyes still filled with surprise.
Despite having spent a year here, she had never known whose hands prepared the sumptuous dishes on the table every day.
Elwin nodded.
Although he had heard rumors, seeing so many small figures busily working together in the firelight was still a breathtaking sight.
The Twins and Lee Jordan efficiently spread the food out on the table.
The roast lamb glistened with oil, the fried sausages curled into tempting arcs, and the pastry of the pies was slightly puffed.
Beside them sat fluffy puddings, golden pumpkin pies, and a bowl of steaming thick soup.
Finally, Lee opened the cloth bag he had been carrying and took out several glass bottles.
Amber liquid sloshed inside the bottles, flowing with a honey-like luster under the candlelight.
"This is?"
Cho leaned forward, curiosity rising in her eyes.
"butterbeer!"
The brothers raised the bottles in their hands with high spirits.
"How did you buy it? Don't the shopkeepers refuse to sell to minors?"
Lee Jordan shrugged.
"With this face of mine, the fellow at the Three Broomsticks didn't even ask, he just handed it straight to me."
"Pfft—"
Cho couldn't help but burst out laughing.
It was true; his appearance made it difficult to judge his exact age, always looking much more mature than he actually was.
Looking at the wide array of food on the table, Elwin also felt his stomach was empty.
After all, it was late at night, and five or six hours had passed since dinner; hunger was quietly surging up.
He still turned and softly reminded Cho to drink less.
Cho wrinkled her small nose and nodded obediently.
"Come! A toast to the new members of our HogwartsNight Tour Squad!"
George pulled over a chair, planted one foot on the seat, and raised his bottle to everyone.
"Cheers!"
Everyone raised their bottles and clinked them together.
Elwin took a sip and was surprised to find the liquid had a soft texture, and the taste of alcohol was not strong.
He noticed that Cho also seemed to like the taste, having already taken several sips in a row.
He quickly pressed down on her wrist—the party had just begun, she shouldn't get drunk right at the start.
Even though butterbeer didn't taste strongly of alcohol, it did contain it after all.
"Elwin, this is really delicious."
Cho had a faint blush on her cheeks, and her eyes were bright as she looked over, "My parents always say I'm too young and never let me touch it."
With a few sips of alcohol down, tonight's experience made her particularly excited.
Always the well-behaved girl, she had never been so reckless before; by her count, she had broken at least ten school rules and even secretly drank alcohol.
Seeing her innocent and romantic demeanor while slightly tipsy, Elwin couldn't help but find it amusing, and he coaxed her in a soft voice:
"If you like it, I'll bring you here often in the future."
"Ooh—"
The Twins and Lee Jordan beside them chimed in with long, teasing tones in unison.
Elwin took the note handed over by The Twins, which had several secret path entrances marked in slanted handwriting. "The trapdoor to the Honeydukes cellar needs three taps on the second brick from the left,"
Fred lowered his voice, "and for the one by the Whomping Willow... I suggest bringing some pain-relief potion."
George winked from the side: "Of course, we highly recommend the route through the Shrieking Shack—although it'll be covered in cobwebs, it's absolutely safe."
The young Wizard tucked the paper into the inner pocket of his robes and raised his foaming butterbeer mug to lightly clink with the two of them.
The sound of glass clinking created a brief echo in the empty classroom, which was then drowned out by the sound of chewing and the light clatter of cutlery.
The old desks had been temporarily pushed together to form a banquet table, now piled with empty plates and colorful Honeydukes candy wrappers.
Chapter 13
When the last piece of Treacle tart disappeared into Fred's mouth, everyone leaned back in unison.
Elwin's wand traced a smooth arc in the air, and the pile of old classroom chairs in the corner floated over in a line.
With a light tap of the wand tip, the wood began to stretch and transform, the armrests curling and extending like vines, eventually turning into five padded rocking chairs.
"Merlin's beard..."
Cho Chang sighed softly, her fingertips brushing over the delicate wood carvings on the armrest—magical flowers in bloom, their petal edges shimmering with a faint golden light.
The Twins had already buried themselves deep into the rocking chairs.
George sighed contentedly, "This craftsmanship is good enough to open a furniture branch at the joke shop."
Night seeped in through the broken stained-glass windows, and the rocking chairs began to sway at their own different rhythms.
A gear-like "creak"
sound echoed and interlaced between the stone walls, as if the interior of some ancient clock was awakening.
Elwin closed his eyes, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the callus on the back of the girl's hand beside him—a mark left by long-term wand-holding.
"Speaking of which,"
his voice floated up in the gloom, "aren't there two more of your family in the Castle?"
The creaking of the rocking chairs suddenly stopped for a moment.
"Percy?"
Fred poked half a head over the back of the chair, "That 'Mr. Future minister for magic' is probably counting tiles in the Prefect's bathroom right now.
Last week, we just turned the common room tapestry into a singing Troll, and he docked Gryffindor twenty points."
George took over in a tone as light as singing, "As for our dear Little Ronnie—oh, he's a good boy who writes to Mum on time to report that he was 'very obedient today' as well."
He gestured in the air, mimicking his younger brother's childish handwriting, "'Fred and George didn't do their Transfiguration homework again today, but I'm a good boy, I wrote a full three inches.
.'"
The burst of laughter startled the Owls perched on the windowsill.
Cho laughed until she curled up, her silk hair ribbon loosening and sliding off.
Moonlight shifted across the window frame at that moment, illuminating the laughter that had yet to dissipate in the air, and the flickering light and shadow on every young face.
The rocking chairs resumed their swaying, this time with a certain tacit rhythm, as if jointly guarding a secret base that wouldn't appear on any map.
Elwin always felt that someone as ambitious as Percyshould have belonged to Slytherin rather than Gryffindor.
Perhaps it was the family bloodline that made the Sorting Hat assign him there without much hesitation—after all, the Weasleys have been natural Gryffindors for generations.
Afterward, George and Fred enthusiastically recounted their various "feats" over the past two years,
even revealing several unknown secret passages within Hogwarts Castle.
Elwin and Cho listened intently, secretly marveling that The Twins' school life was indeed extraordinary.
Happy times always fly by, and gradually, weariness set in.
Everyone tidied up the classroom, restored everything to its original state, and returned to their respective common rooms.
Having drunk quite a bit of butterbeer, Elwin was worried they might be noticed by Filch on the way, so The Twinsand Lee Jordan cast the Disillusionment Charm together.
Several figures quietly vanished into the shadows of the corridor.
Watching them depart, Elwin turned to Cho beside him.
"We should head back too."
By now, Cho was slightly tipsy, her eyes misty, nodding gently only by instinct.
Seeing her like this, Elwin couldn't help but smile, reaching out to gently hold her.
The girl's body was soft and warm, yet he repeatedly whispered in his heart:
"Too early, too early, wait a few more years."
The two walked slowly toward the Ravenclaw common room.
After walking for a while, Cho's consciousness gradually cleared, yet she still snuggled quietly into that warmth without speaking.
"Thank you, Elwin,"
she suddenly said softly, then plucked up her courage as her cool lips brushed against his cheek like a butterfly's wing.
Before he could react, Cho had turned and hurried toward the dormitory, her steps carrying a hint of frantic lightness.
Elwin stood frozen in place, as if he could still feel that fleeting touch, and couldn't help whispering:
"Why run... I didn't even have time to savor it."
He shook his head and smiled, then turned toward his own dormitory.
That wisp of faint warmth seemed to linger in the night breeze, accompanying him into his dreams.
When the morning light returned, Thursday's Flying Classarrived as scheduled.
The first-year students from Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor gathered on the vast lawn in front of the Castle, waiting for the first chance in their lives to take to the skies.
During the Flying Class, the air was filled with whispers of excitement and unease.
A group of children from wizarding families were vividly recounting their childhood adventures with brooms to their companions, and it was especially noisy on the Slytherinside.
Draco Malfoy held his chin high, telling how he had once skillfully maneuvered a broom to avoid a Mugglehelicopter.
He then raised his voice, complaining about the rule that first-years were forbidden from joining the Quidditch team, considering it extremely unfair.
As he spoke, his gaze drifted seemingly unintentionally over Harry and then toward Elwin, who was talking in low tones with Hermione, his expression as if pitying them for never having been in contact with flying.
Elwin paid no mind to Malfoy's boasting.
His attention was now entirely on the brown-haired girl beside him.
"Relax, Hermione,"
he soothed softly, "Harry and I have never touched a broom either.
Many people are just exaggerating, you don't need to worry so much."
Hermione had been restless since she found out they were having a Flying Class.
According to Harry, she had been murmuring and reciting passages from Quidditch Through the Ages during breakfast.
Neville, beside her, also tried to listen to her mutterings, hoping to learn something useful for the later practice, not even having time to mind the Remembrall in his hand that was faintly glowing.
Soon, their Flying Class Professor, Madam Hooch, arrived.
She waved her wand, making a whole row of brooms hover steadily and follow her to the center of the grounds.
Then, every student was given one.
Elwin looked down at the broom in his hand and suddenly hesitated—this broom was quite old, and the tail twigs were sparse and falling off, making it look unreliable.
"Now, everyone stick out your right hand, hover it over the broomstick,"
Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle, her voice clear and powerful, "and then say firmly: 'Up!'"
"Up!"
Elwin concentrated and issued the command to the broom on the ground.
The broom leaped into his palm at his command.
Harry's also jumped up at almost the same time.
Other students were not so successful.
Hermione's broom only rolled lazily on the ground and then stopped moving.
Malfoy shouted several times before the broom suddenly snapped up, nearly hitting the tip of his nose.
Then, Madam Hooch briefly explained the basic essentials and signaled everyone to prepare to try.
"On my whistle—"
She held the silver whistle to her lips, "Three, two, one—kick off the ground!"
Elwin's toes lightly tapped the ground, and his body rose as light as a feather.
He was somewhat surprised to find that his proficiency in handling the broom was quite high; the effect of that blue Flying guide clearly exceeded expectations.
The broom handle felt as if it were one with his mind; turning, rising, and descending were all within a single thought.
Not far away, Neville's situation was completely different.
Perhaps because he was overly nervous, he used almost all his strength when kicking off the ground.
"Whoosh—"
Neville shot up into the sky at a nearly vertical angle, so fast that even Madam Hooch standing nearby didn't have time to react.
In the blink of an eye, he was over twenty feet off the ground.
Even worse, Neville's hand slipped from the broom handle.
He fell straight toward the grass below like a puppet with its strings cut.
Madam Hooch tried to cast a Levitation Charm to catch him in her panic, but the descent was too fast, and the arc of the spell's light brushed past Neville.
The young wizards around were pale with fright, and several girls had already covered their eyes, as if they were about to witness a tragedy.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
A steady and clear incantation cut through the air, coming from Elwin's direction.
The silver-white magical glow precisely enveloped Nevillein the air, and the momentum of the fall slowed abruptly.
With a light wave of Elwin's wand, Neville descended slowly, his feet touching the ground with almost no sound.
Everyone stared blankly at this scene, and those girls who had covered their eyes also lowered their hands, looking at the unharmed Neville.
"Wow—"
After a brief silence, cheers and applause erupted from the crowd.
"Thank Merlin!"
Madam Hooch only then came to her senses, stepping forward quickly to help Neville up and check him carefully.
Out of caution, she decided to take him to the Hospital Wing immediately.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw House! A superb Levitation Charm, Mr. Gaunt!"
She didn't forget to credit Elwin before leaving.
If this boy hadn't acted in time, today's accident might have been difficult to resolve, and she, as the instructor, would have been held responsible.
...
Once Madam Hooch left, Malfoy immediately began to mock loudly.
He picked up the crystal Remembrall Neville had dropped and tossed it playfully in his hand.
"Give it back, Malfoy,"
Harry said in a low voice, taking a step forward.
Malfoy laughed wantonly and tossed the thing high up. "Just let Longbottom climb a tree to get it, what do you think?"
Before he finished speaking, he had already leaped onto his broom and taken to the air.
Turning back, he shouted loudly at Harry:
"Come and get it if you've got the guts, Scarhead!"
Harry was incensed by these words and immediately straddled his broom, giving chase.
As if inheriting his father's talent from back then, Harrymastered the knack of handling a broom almost instantly, engaging in a fierce chase in the sky with Malfoy.
Elwin watched the scene in mid-air quietly, knowing in his heart—this was probably why Harry was selected for the Quidditch team in his first year.
He was indeed a favored one; since he couldn't dominate in knowledge, he showed his brilliance in sports.
Moreover, here, those good at sports are often more popular than those with excellent grades.
He pondered nonchalantly while looking up at the scene of the two chasing each other in the air.
Just then, a series of panic-stricken screams suddenly rang out beside him—
it was Hermione.
Seeing Harry rush forward, she grew anxious and couldn't help but leap up, completely forgetting she was in a ready-to-fly position on her broom.
Just like that, Hermione, like an arrow from a bow, also shot toward the sky!
Seeing Hermione rush into the high sky, all the young wizards initially cheered excitedly, thinking she was going to stop the fight between the two.
But gradually, everyone noticed something was wrong.
Hermione's screams were continuous, without any sign of stopping.
Elwin was also stunned—these naive children actually thought Hermione was proficient in flying and were still cheering below.
But he had no time for further thought; he squeezed his legs and applied force with his knees, and his whole body suddenly rose from the ground, flying rapidly toward Hermione.
He kept urging the broom to speed up and soon closed in on her.
"Hermione! Don't panic, steady yourself!"
Elwin shouted to her in the air.
However, at this time, Hermione had already lost her head, gripping the broom handle tightly for fear that she would fall if she let go.
Touching something unknown, the broom beneath her suddenly jolted violently, then its speed increased sharply, shooting toward the distant forest.
Elwin's heart tightened, and he immediately leaned low, almost completely pressed against the broom.
The Comet broom, already at its limit, let out an overburdened creak, yet it increased its speed again, in hot pursuit.
Elwin had no time to mind anything else—Hermione's fingers were slipping bit by bit from the broomstick, a scene so clear it stung his eyes.
Sure enough, in just two heartbeats, that small figure completely lost her support, falling straight toward the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
Wind whistled in his ears.
Elwin leaned forward and sprinted, the broomstick almost brushing the tips of the grass.
Just as Hermione was less than a person's height from the ground, he finally rushed beneath her.
Letting go with both hands, the broom slid away with the momentum, and he raised his arms to catch her—
the weight of the fall suddenly crashed into his arms.
The broom let out an overburdened groan, sinking abruptly with its tail twigs nearly scraping the soil.
Elwin squeezed his legs tight and leaned back, using the momentum to slide forward.
Upon landing, that old broom finally completely disintegrated, breaking into several pieces scattered across the grass.
Chapter 14
The girl in his arms stared at him blankly, her lips slightly parted, as if she hadn't yet woken up from the vertigo of weightlessness.
Then, a sob broke through the silence.
The crying was fragmented yet torrential, like river water surging from beneath a suddenly cracked layer of ice.
"Merlin's beard! How dare you—"
Professor McGonagall's exclamation exploded from the edge of the pitch.
Elwin turned his head and saw her approaching with brisk steps, her robes billowing in the wind like angry waves.
Harry followed behind her with his head bowed, looking very much like a fledgling bird soaked through by the rain.
Further away, Professor Flitwick was running hard on his short legs, his figure appearing exceptionally small on the vast meadow.
"Mr. Gaunt! Miss Granger! You actually—"
Professor McGonagall's voice came to an abrupt halt.
She saw the trembling shoulders in Elwin's arms and that face soaked with tears.
The impending eruption of fury suddenly choked in her throat, turning into a heavy sigh.
"Please forgive us, Professor,"
Elwin's voice cut steadily through the frozen air. "Hermione's intention was to help.
She didn't mean to rush into the sky—she simply lost control."
He placed the word "accident"
gently into every sentence, like opening an umbrella in a storm.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips tightly.
She understood the soft protection in those words and saw a student from her own House leaning safely in the other's arms.
Reproachful words rolled on the tip of her tongue before finally being swallowed back down.
"Mr. Gaunt, are you alright?"
When Professor Flitwick arrived panting, this was the scene he saw: the boy standing on the grass holding the sobbing girl, broomstick wreckage scattered at their feet, and Professor McGonagall standing to the side as silent as a statue.
He blinked, unsure for a moment which question to ask first—after all, he had only come to investigate upon hearing a commotion, never expecting to stumble upon such a scene.
Just as Professor McGonagall reached the Castle entrance, she had seen Elwin streak through the air on a broom and steadily catch the rapidly falling small figure.
Her heart nearly skipped a beat; it wasn't until she saw that both children were unharmed that she managed to find her breath again.
"Professor, I'm fine."
Elwin's voice came from mid-air, sounding surprisingly calm. "But Miss Granger might need to rest for a while."
The boy held the brown-haired young Witch in his arms, his posture as composed as if he were merely carrying a stack of textbooks.
Professor McGonagall stared at him for two seconds before finally sighing. "Mr. Gaunt, I'll trouble you to take Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing.
Additionally—thank you for your timely action today. Twenty points to Ravenclaw."
She turned to the pale-faced Harry beside her. "Potter, come with me to my office."
Hermione had stopped crying by now, though she still gave an uncontrollable sob every now and then.
Professor McGonagall looked at her small hand tightly clutching the corner of Elwin's robes and decided to leave the child some dignity. "Go on, take good care of her."
Elwin nodded and, without even asking for Hermione's opinion, turned and carried her toward the depths of the Castle.
His steps were steady, the corners of his robes fluttering slightly in the corridor's breeze.
***
The Hospital Wing was filled with the distinct, bitter scent of disinfectant.
Elwin stood by the hospital bed, looking at Hermione, who still refused to lift her head from his chest. He spoke with some helplessness, "There's no one else here."
The little Witch in his arms gave no reaction.
"If this continues, my robes are really going to be soaked through."
These words finally had an effect.
Hermione slowly raised her head. Her eyes were red and swollen, and tear tracks still hung on her cheeks. Her entire face had turned a faint shade of pink from being buried for so long.
She pursed her lips, tiny droplets of water still clinging to her eyelashes.
Elwin softened his voice. "Today was just an accident. You'll get better with more practice in the future."
"I never want to touch a broomstick again!"
Hermione interrupted him sharply, her voice carrying a lingering tremor.
Elwin didn't argue, simply following her lead with gentle words of comfort.
Gradually, Hermione's tense shoulders relaxed, and her breathing became long and even—she had finally fallen asleep.
The day's experiences had indeed been too heavy for her; sleep was perhaps the best healing.
***
By the time Elwin finally reached Ravenclaw Tower, the sky had turned completely dark.
The bronze door knocker shimmered with a faint luster under the moonlight.
He leaned against the cold stone wall and let out a long breath.
His body wasn't exactly exhausted, but the continuous output of magic to maintain the broom's stability, followed by forcibly pushing for acceleration at the critical moment, had indeed overextended his mental energy.
Elwin did feel mentally fatigued.
He intended to return to the dormitory for a good afternoon nap to recover some energy.
But as he stepped into the common room, he sensed that the atmosphere wasn't quite right.
It was far too quiet—the moment he walked through the door, all the young wizards in the room looked up in unison, their gazes falling entirely on him.
This reception made Elwin feel a slight chill down his back.
"That was so cool, Elwin!"
An upper-year girl was the first to speak, and immediately after, the entire common room seemed to be ignited, becoming noisy in an instant.
"That's right, that scene just now was simply amazing!"
"To be able to do that in your first year, you should really consider joining the Quidditch team!"
The young wizards were all looking excited.
The plot of a hero saving a beauty, combined with the thrilling spectacle of that aerial chase, made the emotions of the girls—who made up the majority in Ravenclaw House—run particularly high.
Elwin stared at this group of excited classmates somewhat blankly, not having fully processed it yet.
Does news travel this fast?
Before he could think further, a familiar figure had already rushed to his side and gently threw herself into his arms.
It was Cho.
Elwin instinctively reached out to steady her, and before he could speak, he heard Cho ask softly:
"Elwin, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Cho nervously held onto Elwin, her eyes carefully scanning him, fearing she might find some injury.
"Don't worry, Cho, I'm perfectly fine."
Elwin gently stroked the girl's long hair; that genuine concern made his heart feel warm and fuzzy.
Confirming that Elwin was indeed unharmed, Cho finally breathed a sigh of relief, then gave a slightly reproachful little pinch to his waist to express her minor dissatisfaction.
Elwin knew—this was the girl being quietly jealous about him stepping forward to save Hermione.
He could only smile, trying to use his expression to muddle through.
Cho looked at the growing crowd of classmates around them and realized now wasn't the time for a detailed talk, so she considerately stepped aside to make space.
Seeing the two finish their conversation, the surrounding 'Eaglets' immediately swarmed forward enthusiastically.
"Elwin, how did you make that Comet fly so fast?"
"Is it really your first time riding a broomstick? That's unbelievable!"
Amidst the chirping discussions, a hand suddenly reached out. When the fingertips were about to touch Elwin's arm, he jerked back.
"Could you really catch that Gryffindor like that? I don't believe it... let me feel your muscles—"
Elwin felt a chill down his spine.
Now he was in trouble.
Just as that hand was about to touch his sleeve, the crowd was forcefully pushed aside.
Roger Davies—the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditchteam, and also the boy who had secretly asked him for advice on how to talk to girls on the first day of school—squeezed to the front.
"Elwin!"
Roger raised his voice and shouted, "Professor Flitwickwants you to go to his office right now!"
These words were like a decree of pardon.
Elwin immediately seized the opportunity and called out to those around him, "Sorry, everyone! I have to go see the Professor—we'll talk about anything else when I get back!"
Hearing Flitwick's name, the gathered Eaglets finally, somewhat reluctantly, cleared a narrow path.
Elwin squeezed out sideways, and it wasn't until he stepped onto the quiet stone floor of the corridor that he quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
If he had stayed any longer, his robes would probably have been pulled and wrinkled.
Meanwhile, that series of accidents in Flying Class had already splashed into the common rooms of other Houses like flying sparks.
First was Neville's Remembrall spiraling out of control into the sky, then Harry's chase with Malfoy, and finally Elwincatching Hermione in mid-air—an entire lesson packed with so many twists naturally became the hottest topic for all the young wizards after dinner.
In Gryffindor Tower, Ron was standing on an armchair, waving his arms as he gestured.
"—Harry just went 'whoosh' and dived down! When he was only this far from the ground, he snatched the ball and then braked hard! He was just like a professional Seeker!"
He spoke with great animation, as if he were the one flying in the sky at the time.
But before he could finish, both his shoulders sank at the same time—George and Fred hooked onto him from left and right.
"Alright, Ronnie, we've heard about Harry's feat for the third time now,"
Fred said with a smile, "How about a change of pace? Tell us about Elwin's part?"
"Exactly,"
Angelina Johnson stood nearby with her arms crossed; she had just been selected as a Gryffindor Chaser this year. "I'm also curious, how on earth did he catch up to Hermione?"
Ron's shoulders slumped, but under the "friendly"
embrace of the two brothers, he had no choice but to speak sullenly: "Fine... it was just that the broom suddenly went crazy and started rushing around. When Hermione was about to hit the wall, Elwin cut in from the side—no idea how he controlled his direction—then he just reached out and scooped her up, bringing her back to the ground."
He curled his lip and added in a low voice, "But it was probably just good luck."
After learning about the events, the young wizards in Hufflepuff House developed quite a bit of goodwill toward Elwin.
This House was already home to many steady and simple students, and they greatly admired Elwin's decisive action to save someone regardless of his own safety.
In Slytherin House, however, everyone's attitude toward Elwin was much more complex.
On one hand, he had caused Slytherin to lose face during the Sorting Ceremony, and now he had once again become the center of attention. Many 'little snakes' were already secretly planning to find an opportunity to teach him a lesson.
But on the other hand, some of the young Slytherinwitches were attracted by Elwin's appearance and temperament.
Coupled with his outstanding performance in class and the amazing agility and courage he showed while flying, this image of being both scholarly and athletic happened to cater to Slytherin's nature of admiring the strong, making it difficult for them to harbor hostility toward him.
Thus, Slytherin actually split into two factions over Elwin, sparking a minor argument among themselves.
Elwin was unaware that his actions had caused such a stir.
At this moment, he was standing outside Professor Flitwick's office, raising his hand to knock lightly on the door.
"Come in."
Flitwick's voice came from inside.
Elwin pushed the door open and entered, looking around—the room's arrangement was no different from his last visit.
He walked steadily to the desk.
"Have a seat, Mr. Gaunt."
As soon as Professor Flitwick saw him, a smile blossomed on his face, and he gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite.
"Mr. Gaunt, your performance today was truly amazing."
Flitwick said, his tone carrying undisguised praise. "To be able to cast a Levitation Charm so precisely under such a rapid descent—even many adult Wizards might not be able to do that."
Clearly, the Professor already knew the whole story and was deeply impressed by that timely and accurate spell.
"You flatter me, Professor.
At the time, I was just doing my best."
Elwin maintained a humble attitude.
Flitwick nodded, didn't continue the praise, and instead inquired: "Mr. Gaunt, do you have any understanding of the sport of Quidditch?"
Elwin's heart stirred slightly.
What did this mean? Was he also going to follow a path similar to Harry's—being recruited into the Quidditch team as an exception?
"Professor, I roughly know the rules, but to be honest, today was my first time actually flying on a broomstick, and I haven't had the chance to actually participate in a match yet."
He answered truthfully.
Elwin was no stranger to the rules of Quidditch, thanks to his girlfriend Cho, who was obsessed with the sport—she not only often dragged him to explain the details of the matches but also never spared any effort in praising the various brilliant performances of the Tornadoes team.
"That's excellent, Mr. Gaunt."
Chapter 15
A gratified smile spread across Professor Flitwick's face, and he leaned forward slightly. "I wonder if you would consider joining the Ravenclaw Quidditch team?"
Elwin was not surprised to hear this.
He recalled that Harry Potter had been recruited into his house team by Professor McGonagall as an exception simply for catching a Remembrall; what he had done today was perhaps even more deserving of such an invitation.
He also thought that Cho would likely join the team this year. If he became a member as well, the two of them would have more time together—after all, they were in different years, and it was rare for them to meet in class during the week.
So he nodded. "Of course, Professor, I would be very happy to.
However, is this in accordance with the rules? I remember that first-years are usually not allowed to join the team."
"Don't worry, Mr. Gaunt, I'll handle that matter."
Having received an affirmative answer, Professor Flitwickappeared exceptionally pleasant. He hopped lightly off his chair, walked to the window, opened a long oak chest against the wall, and took out a slender package, handing it to Elwin.
"Professor, what is this?"
"A Nimbus 2000, this year's latest model.
A gift sent to me by a student of mine who works as a designer at the Nimbus Racing Broom Company."
A flash of pride showed in Professor Flitwick's eyes. "Originally, I intended to give it to Roger Davies to use, but now I believe it will be of greater value in your hands."
Elwin marveled inwardly.
Professor McGonagall had once paid out of her own pocket to buy a broom for Harry, but Professor Flitwickactually had students gifting them to him directly.
Perhaps this was the unique aspect of Ravenclaw House: although there weren't many from Pure-blood Families, they continuously produced technical talents across various fields of the wizarding world.
Once these invisible networks converged, the power they could trigger was not to be underestimated.
No wonder Slytherin House was always at loggerheads with Gryffindor but never directed its spearhead toward Ravenclaw in the slightest.
Elwin did not decline. He reached out and took the Nimbus 2000, cradling it steadily in his arms. "Thank you, Professor, I will cherish it. So, when do I report to the team?"
"Next Wednesday,"
Professor Flitwick replied, "That is the day for the new round of player selections.
Go find Mr. Davies; he will arrange your position according to the situation."
After getting the exact time, Elwin took his leave.
Carrying the broom, he went straight back to the common room.
A group of young wizards saw him return and curiously gathered around him again.
Elwin dealt with them briefly before he was able to get away.
Cho Chang came over then, her gaze falling on the long package in his hands. "What's this?"
"A Nimbus 2000."
"A gift from Professor Flitwick?"
Cho's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"Yes, the Professor invited me to join the House Quidditchteam; the specific position hasn't been determined yet."
Cho was even more astonished. "Aren't first-year students forbidden from joining the team?"
"There are always exceptions to the rules,"
Elwin said dismissively. "Professor McGonagall just called Harry away as well; I expect he'll be a member of the Gryffindor team soon."
He paused, then asked instead, "Professor Flitwick said there are house selections next Wednesday. Are you participating this year?"
"Of course,"
Cho's eyes lit up. "My goal this year is to become the Ravenclaw Seeker."
Seeing her so high-spirited, Elwin suggested, "Since the morning classes are over anyway, why don't we find an open space and try out this broom?"
"Can I ride it too?"
"Of course, it's just a broom."
As he spoke, he naturally took Cho's hand and led her outside. "Let's go to the Great Hall for lunch first, then go to the edge of the Black Lake for a test flight."
After dinner, the two went to the edge of the Black Lake to begin special training.
Cho rode the Nimbus 2000, flying to her heart's content in the sky, occasionally making beautiful dives and spins, her laughter scattering over the lake like wind chimes.
Elwin looked up at her, making a silent decision in his heart—this Christmas, he would give Cho a brand-new Nimbus 2000.
As for the one in his hand, it was a gift personally given by Professor Flitwick after all; it wouldn't be quite right to give it away.
The days passed one by one, and Hogwarts returned to its usual rhythm.
The first-year students gradually figured out the temperament of this ancient Castle, and their schoolwork increased accordingly.
One day in the Library, Elwin saw Harry and Ron from afar surrounding Hermione, their faces full of pleading.
He couldn't hear the specific content, but judging from that thick stack of parchment and words like 'three feet'
'single-spaced'
and the like, it was likely that the Potion Class essay was giving them a headache again.
Elwin didn't think it was difficult at all.
Those essays from his past life hadn't been written for nothing; he had his own ways of dealing with this kind of homework.
He even had time to accompany Cho to the Quidditch team selections, and both of them successfully made it in.
He chose the position of Beater. "This way, I can protect you better."
He said to Cho, "You just focus on finding the Golden Snitch; leave everything else to me."
Cho's face turned slightly red, and she stood on her tiptoes to give him a light peck on the cheek.
Several nearby team members looked away one after another, pretending to study the twigs on their brooms.
Soon, the news of Elwin joining the Ravenclaw Quidditchteam spread through the four houses.
The Gryffindor students weren't too surprised—hadn't their own 'the savior'
also made the team as an exception? Hufflepuff continued their peaceful days as usual, showing no reaction.
Over at Slytherin, Malfoy had muttered sourly that if his own Head of House hadn't insisted on following school rules, he could have joined the team in his first year too.
It was said he actually went to complain to Professor Snape, but after being swept by those cold eyes, he shrunk his neck and slipped away.
The students of Ravenclaw House could hardly hide their joy. Their Quidditch record over the past few years had always been unsatisfactory, and now Elwin's outstanding performance gave them hope of lifting the House Cup.
Several senior girls spontaneously formed a cheering squad, announcing they would cheer for Elwin in the next match.
Many young witches joined the ranks one after another, and even girls from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff participated.
Quidditch captain Roger Davies couldn't help but feel envious looking at this scene—as captain, he had never enjoyed the treatment of an exclusive cheering squad.
Elwin himself didn't take these things to heart; his schedule was always packed.
After daily classes ended, the Library became his regular destination, where he studied books and finished homework with Hermione.
Since the incident in Flying Class, the little Witch had deliberately avoided him for several days, hurrying away every time class ended, unwilling to communicate much with him.
But after a week, her attitude returned to normal, and she seemed to have quietly joined that cheering squad.
A girl's thoughts were always hard to fathom.
Elwin didn't want to look too deeply into these subtle changes; as long as Hermione could interact as usual, it was fine—that way he could continue to reference her homework.
To be honest, Elwin really didn't want to expend energy writing those long essays; every time, he borrowed Hermione's results under the guise of discussing studies.
Hermione never grew suspicious; after all, Elwin's brilliant performance in class was obvious to all, and he had already earned nearly a hundred house points for Ravenclaw.
Elwin invested most of his time into the study of Ancient Runes and had already made significant progress, mastering several basic runes.
Basic symbols such as 'Fire'
, 'Airflow'
, and 'Flowing Water'
, he had already studied quite thoroughly.
Even without relying on a wand, he could perform certain simple wandless magic.
As his research deepened, Elwin believed that one day he would be able to achieve the wandless casting of any magic.
When that time came, if he encountered Lord Voldemort, perhaps just a light whisper of an incantation would be enough to defeat the enemy.
Besides burying himself in the sea of books, Elwin would also accompany Cho for Quidditch training.
He had wanted to lend the Nimbus 2000 to Cho to use—as a Beater, his requirements for speed weren't demanding, while a Seeker clearly needed this broom more.
But after a moment's hesitation, Cho declined, her reasoning coinciding with Elwin's considerations: this was a gift Professor Flitwick had specifically given to Elwin, and it wasn't appropriate for her to use it.
Moreover, she had always held a special fondness for her own Cleansweep Seven.
The days leading up to Christmas passed one by one, and Elwin finally had to accept reality.
By Christmas Day, Cho would be able to receive the Nimbus 2000 he had prepared.
It was just missing one game; it wasn't a big deal.
The October wind blew past the Castle's turrets, and before they knew it, the calendar had turned to late autumn.
At noon this day, Elwin was dining at the long table in the Great Hall with Cho as usual.
Sunlight spilled through the high stained-glass windows, turning the pumpkin pasties on the plates golden.
Suddenly, a pale yellow paper crane flew leisurely through the air and came to a silent rest beside his dinner plate.
Elwin was startled for a moment, then reached out to unfold the paper crane.
On the paper was a line of neat and sharp handwriting:
"Mr. Gaunt: The first meeting of the Transfiguration Clubthis semester will be held this Saturday afternoon in the Staff Room next to my office.
Since it is your first time joining, a brief demonstration of your abilities will be arranged at that time to understand your current level of Transfiguration.
—Minerva McGonagall"
After reading the note, Elwin understood.
So it was a message from Professor McGonagall.
For a moment just now, he had even thought some girl had come up with a novel way to deliver a letter.
Sitting beside him, Cho leaned her head over curiously, her gaze falling on the unfolded paper.
"It really is the Transfiguration Club,"
Cho sighed softly. "We only have two sixth-year seniors from Ravenclaw House in there, and they were only selected last year."
She handed the paper crane back to Elwin, a hint of envy flashing in her eyes.
Her talent in Transfiguration was not prominent; she could only barely keep up with the class progress, though she seemed more adept at Charms.
Therefore, Professor McGonagall's club was out of reach for her, but there might still be a chance to strive for Professor Flitwick's Charms Club.
"Actually, the requirements aren't that high,"
Elwin said in a relaxed tone. "As long as you can make an object take on the appearance of an animal, even if it doesn't move and is just an empty shell."
Cho couldn't help but give him a sidelong glance, her look carrying a bit of mock reproach.
She was currently still stumbling with transformations between inorganic objects, let alone turning something into a lifelike animal form.
But Cho didn't linger on this topic.
The first match of the Quidditch season was coming up next month, and she would practice a bit more on her own after every team practice; she really couldn't spare the extra energy to bicker with Elwin.
Saturday afternoon arrived as scheduled.
Elwin tidied his robes, walked through the corridor, and headed toward the Staff Room Professor McGonagall had mentioned.
His first Transfiguration Club activity was about to begin.
***
On Saturday morning, Elwin arrived at the Staff Room next to Professor McGonagall's office at the appointed time.
When he pushed the door open, there were already several students who had arrived early inside.
Two familiar faces came into view—the sixth-year Ravenclaw girl Prefect, Deborah Bane, with her neat short hair, was talking in low tones with the sixth-year boy beside her, Ian Marshall.
Seeing Elwin enter, both of them looked up at the same time. Deborah flashed a smile and waved at him, patting the empty velvet cushion beside her.
"Good morning, Senior."
Elwin greeted her politely as he took a seat by her side.
The corners of Deborah's eyes crinkled. "How rare, a first-year who knows how to use honorifics."
She turned to Ian, her tone carrying obvious praise. "Our house has really made a name for itself this time—Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Club, so many upperclassmen break their heads trying to get in."
"It's just luck."
Elwin lowered his gaze, his voice soft and slow. "The Professor probably wanted to give me an opportunity to learn ahead of time."
Deborah didn't respond, only giving an understanding smile.
Everyone knew how strict Professor McGonagall was when selecting club members; if one didn't have real skill, they couldn't even get an application form in.
She suddenly leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that only the three of them could hear: "But you'd better be careful—there are two over from Slytherin who aren't too happy, thinking you're not qualified to step into this room."
Her gaze drifted seemingly unintentionally toward the opposite side.
Two boys sat on carved wooden chairs by the window, looking over coldly at this moment.