James worked through five of the books, including the three on ancient magic. The theories were fascinating but ultimately frustrating. Each author presented a different perspective, none of them agreeing on fundamental principles. Vossmere emphasized ritual geometry and blood anchoring. Argrave focused on ley lines and natural magical currents. Quentis argued for magic as a semi-sentient force that required negotiation rather than command.
They couldn't all be right. Or perhaps they were all partially correct, describing different aspects of the same phenomenon from limited viewpoints.
After the ancient magic texts, James moved on to two books about spatial magic theory. The Folding of Space and Spell by Halrix Moorvale and Beyond the Measured Room by Talyn Brookesby both dealt with how magical fields bent physical space, but from different mathematical frameworks. Moorvale approached it through topological theory, while Brookesby focused on non-Euclidean geometry.
James made extensive notes, his eidetic memory capturing every diagram and formula, but his mind kept drifting back to the ancient magic problem. How could he detect magic that operated on entirely different principles than modern spellwork?
He glanced at his watch and swore softly. It was well past dinner, nearly eight o'clock. The library would close in thirty minutes.
James gathered the restricted section books and returned them to their designated desk, keeping only two to check out as Madam Pince had specified. Then he made his way to a section he'd never had reason to visit before.
Practical crafting. Leatherworking, woodworking, metalsmithing. This area of the library was practically deserted, dust coating some of the shelves. Most students had no interest in manual crafts when transfiguration could accomplish the same tasks more easily.
But James remembered Professor Flitwick's advice. If he wanted to create a properly enchanted bag or chest of drawers, he needed to craft the object himself, with intention woven into every step. That required understanding the materials and techniques.
He selected The Art of Magical Leatherworking by Griswald Havelock and Woodcraft for Wizards by Elmira Blackthorn. Both books looked old but well-maintained, their spines uncracked from lack of use.
At Madam Pince's desk, James returned the fifteen restricted books keeping his two permitted checkouts separate along with the crafting texts. He will borrow the remaining restricted section books once he was done with these two.
Madam Pince inspected each returned book with deliberate attention, running her wand over them to check for damage, examining the spines and pages with hawkish scrutiny. She humphed occasionally but found nothing to complain about.
Finally, she processed his checkouts, making careful notes in her ledger. "Two weeks, Mr. Acton. Not a day longer."
"Thank you, Madam Pince, you'll have them sooner."
James left the library with his books carefully packed in his bag. His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd skipped dinner entirely in his research frenzy.
The Great Hall would be empty by now, the food vanished. But James knew another option.
He made his way through the castle toward the kitchens, navigating corridors lit by torches. A few students hurried past, rushing to reach their common rooms before curfew. James kept his pace casual, not wanting to draw attention.
The painting of the fruit bowl appeared, and James approached the pear. The sensation was still strange, tickling painted fruit, but the pear giggled and transformed into a door handle as expected.
The kitchen was bustling with activity despite the late hour. House-elves swarmed around the four long tables, cleaning plates and utensils with impressive speed and efficiency. Others were preparing what looked like meal prep for tomorrow's breakfast, kneading dough and chopping vegetables.
Several elves turned as James entered, their large eyes brightening with recognition.
"Master James!" Tipsy hurried over, his expression caught between delight and concern. "Master James is not eating dinner again?"
"I was studying in the library and lost track of time," James admitted. "I'm sorry to bother you so late."
Tipsy made a disapproving sound, his ears drooping slightly. "Young master must take care of his health! Tipsy is always telling students, studies is important but eating is more important!"
"You're absolutely right. I'll try to be more careful."
"Tipsy will make something for Master James right away! Please, sit, sit!" The elf guided James to the nearest table, where several other elves were already clearing a space and setting out cutlery.
Within minutes, food appeared before him. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, fresh bread, and even a slice of treacle tart for dessert. All still warm, clearly saved from dinner service.
James ate quickly but gratefully, the food settling his empty stomach. The other elves went about their work but kept glancing over, clearly pleased to see him eating properly.
When he finished, James stood and gathered his plates. "Thank you, Tipsy. The food was excellent as always."
"Master James is most welcome! Tipsy is always happy to feed hungry students!"
James was heading toward the door when Tipsy called out again. "Master James, wait please!"
The elf hurried over with a small wrapped package. "Tipsy is making snacks for Master James, so he doesn't go hungry when studying. Master James forgets to eat too much."
James accepted the package, genuinely touched. "Tipsy, that's incredibly kind of you. Thank you."
"Master James is good student. Takes care of books, and is polite to elves."
"I really appreciate it. I promise I'll eat more regularly."
James left the kitchen with his package of snacks. The house-elves' genuine care for students was something he hadn't expected but found deeply comforting.
The corridor outside was empty and dark. James checked his watch. Nearly nine o'clock, well past curfew for first years.
Since I'm already out past curfew, James thought, why not make a trip of it?
He pulled out his wand and began layering his concealment spells. Silencing Charm first, then the Notice-Me-Not, then the advanced invisibility spell from the Chinese text, and finally the Unplottable charm. Within moments, he was as close to completely undetectable as possible.
James made his way down to the dungeons, descending stone staircases that grew progressively colder and damper. The torches here burned with a dimmer flame, casting long shadows across ancient stone.
He'd been to the Potions classroom, of course, but the rest of the dungeons remained unexplored. Time to remedy that.
The dungeons were extensive, James discovered. Just as many rooms as the upper levels, but far less utilized. Apart from Potions classes and Professor Snape's office, most teaching happened above ground. The professors likely had chambers in the upper levels as well, closer to their respective common rooms.
Though Snape probably stayed down here, James thought, near his private potion labs.
He found several such labs as he explored, each one set up for student use. Older years practicing advanced potions, clearly. The rooms were locked but not heavily warded, suggesting they were approved spaces rather than secret hideaways.
Many empty classrooms had been converted to storage, filled with old desks, broken equipment, and dusty teaching materials that hadn't been used in decades.
And then there were the locked rooms. Several of them, scattered throughout the dungeons, each one protected by concealment charms and locking spells that were clearly student work rather than professional enchantments. Hidden spaces and personal sanctuaries for students who wanted privacy.
James understood the appeal. Other houses had to share dormitories, two or more students per room in most cases. Ravenclaw's private rooms were a luxury not everyone enjoyed. It made sense that enterprising students would create their own spaces, and equally sensible that professors turned a blind eye.
The castle could afford it with so much unused space. And if James could detect these hidden rooms, the professors certainly could as well. They simply chose not to interfere.
James walked through the corridors with his hand trailing along the wall, his fingers brushing cold stone. He desperately wanted to know what magic had created these walls, what principles the Founders had used to make Hogwarts what it was.
The books had given him theories but no answers. Ritual geometry, ley lines, semi-sentient magic, none of it explained how to actually detect ancient magic or how to work with it.
He stopped suddenly, struck by a thought.
The books had mentioned that wanded magic was weaker than ancient techniques. What if he tried casting detection spells wandlessly? Would that make a difference?
James focused on the wall before him and raised his hand. No wand, just his will and his magic. He'd been doing wandless magic for years, treating it like telekinesis before he'd known better.
"Detectum Magicae," he whispered, pushing magic through the incantation without his wand's focus.
The spell formed, slower and requiring more concentration than with his wand, but it worked. The result was identical to the wanded version. Nothing. The wall remained stubbornly non-magical according to the detection charm.
James tried several more spells, working through his arsenal of detection magic. Some succeeded on the first attempt. Others required multiple tries to cast wandlessly. But in the end, every spell produced the same result.
No difference.
"Of course not," James muttered. "Even wandlessly, I'm casting the same magic, built upon the same modern spellcasting framework. The method doesn't matter if the fundamental approach is wrong."
He leaned against the wall, thinking. What if he tried something more basic? Before he'd learned proper spells, when he'd thought his magic was telekinesis, he'd used raw power and will to accomplish tasks. No incantations, no wand movements, just intent and force.
Maybe that would work?
James placed both hands flat against the stone wall and pushed magic into it. Not a spell, just raw magical energy, trying to force a connection or a reaction. Nothing happened.
He tried pulling at the magic in the wall, attempting to sense what was there the same way he could feel his own magic. Still nothing.
He tried visualizing the wall's magical structure, imagining he could see the enchantments that must be woven through it. Nothing.
The wall remained stubbornly inert under his magical probing, as mundane as if it had been built by Muggle masons with no magic involved.
James was so focused on his attempts that he almost missed the soft padding of feet around the corner. He froze, his heart suddenly racing.
Mrs. Norris appeared first, the skeletal cat moving with predatory grace through the shadows. And behind her, carrying a lantern and muttering to himself, came Argus Filch.
James held his breath, pressing himself against the wall and staying absolutely still. His concealment spells should hide him completely. Should. But Mrs. Norris had a reputation for uncanny perception.
The cat paused, her lamp-like eyes scanning the corridor. For a terrible moment, James thought she'd spotted him. Her gaze seemed to linger on exactly where he stood.
Then Filch's grumbling voice echoed through the stone corridor. "Come on, Mrs. Norris. No students down here. Let's check the third floor. Caught two Gryffindors there last week."
Mrs. Norris gave the corridor one last suspicious look before following her owner back the way they'd come. Their footsteps and the lantern light faded gradually, leaving James alone in the dark.
He released his breath slowly, his heart still pounding. That had been closer than he liked. If it had been a professor instead of Filch, he might have been detected despite his spells.
Time to return to Ravenclaw Tower before his luck ran out.
James made his way carefully back through the dungeons, up staircases, through corridors, navigating by memory and magical light that only he could see. The castle was quiet now, most students asleep, only the occasional prefect patrol or teacher to avoid.
He reached Ravenclaw Tower without incident, answered the eagle knocker's riddle, and slipped into the common room. It was empty at this hour, the fire burning low, the enchanted ceiling showing a peaceful night sky.
James climbed to his dormitory floor and entered his room, finally allowing his concealment spells to drop. Exhaustion hit him immediately, the combined weight of a full day of classes, hours of intensive reading, and nighttime exploration.
He went through his nightly routine on autopilot. Bathroom, teeth brushed, face washed, changed into pajamas. His mind was still churning with theories and questions about ancient magic, but his body demanded rest.
James climbed into bed and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
His last conscious thought was frustration mixed with excitement. The mystery remained unsolved, but at least now he understood why it was a mystery. Ancient magic operated on completely different principles than modern spellwork, and detecting it would require thinking outside the frameworks he'd been taught.
Tomorrow he'd continue his research.
Tomorrow he'd find new approaches to try.
But tonight, he needed to sleep.