Inside was a wide, circular room framed by soaring arched windows. Blue silk banners edged with bronze quivered faintly under a breath of unseen air, their shadows rippling across the walls like restless ghosts. A deep midnight-blue carpet circled the floor, and at the room's heart stood a marble statue: a serene woman reading, eyes cast eternally downward — a quiet testament to Ravenclaw's creed of endless pursuit.
Bookshelves rose against every wall, crammed to bursting with volumes ancient and new. Textbooks, research papers, treatises of theoretical magic... knowledge poured out of them without order or sentiment, waiting to be devoured by the willing.
This was Ravenclaw.The mind's playground — and battlefield.
Despite the hour, several older students lounged on sapphire-upholstered chairs, voices low but fervent.
"I wonder what would happen if we cast a Shrinking Charm on individual cells?" one boy speculated, his eyes gleaming with dangerous curiosity.
"It would rupture the cell walls. They can't withstand altered internal pressures," another answered coolly.
"But if we expanded them instead, neurons for examp—" the first pressed on, hopeful.
"Human enlargement magic is classified under black magic for good reason. Energy expenditure would increase geometrically. Muggles once hypothesized that size alone could cripple mobility — imagine the strain on the nervous system," the second replied with clinical disdain.
The first muttered something unintelligible and fell silent, hiding behind his book once again.
How amusing.Bondrewd smiled faintly. Ravenclaws flirted with forbidden knowledge like moths circling a flame.But unlike the moth, he had no intention of being burned.
"First-years!" Penelope Clearwater's sharp voice cut across the room.
She held aloft a stack of neat parchments."These are your timetables. Guard them well — I'd hate to see a Ravenclaw who can't even manage that."
The first-years moved hesitantly forward. Bondrewd, his movements smooth and precise, claimed a schedule without needing to jostle.
He read it quickly.Charms, then Transfiguration.
Excellent.Two of the most malleable branches of magic. Areas where creativity mattered more than raw strength.
"You'll meet our Head of House tomorrow," Penelope continued. "First impressions matter."
She took a breath, smoothing her tone."Boys' dormitory to the left. Girls' to the right. Off to bed now — and again, welcome to Ravenclaw."
The group murmured quiet thanks and trickled toward the staircases.
Bondrewd ascended without hurry, taking in the details: the worn edges of the stairs, the faint creaking of wood that no spell had silenced. All information was useful.
He found his assigned bed and opened his trunk. His belongings, meticulously arranged, spilled out into orderly piles.Everything he needed — and nothing he did not.
The trunk itself bore a faded second-hand extension charm from Diagon Alley. Inferior work, but functional enough. For now.
He set about organizing his things, hands deft and practiced.When finished, he sat upon the edge of the mattress, retrieving his battered leather notebook — his true companion.
Tomorrow's subjects interested him greatly.Charms — the art of altering properties without disrupting form. A game of variables and mutable constants.
Transfiguration — more dangerous.It did not merely manipulate — it redefined existence itself. A single transfiguration, handled poorly, could unravel the very core of an object. Or a being.
The two disciplines were commonly taught as separate. Bondrewd knew better.They were halves of a single philosophy: the manipulation of reality.
He sketched a rough diagram, quill scratching faintly.Property versus Identity. Charms adjusted the former; Transfiguration reshaped the latter. Together, they allowed for complete dominance over matter.
And yet... a hole remained in the structure.
Curses. Jinxes. Hexes.Their classification seemed arbitrary. Labels meant for the superstitious.
Is there truly any meaningful difference between a Curse and a Charm like Engorgio Skullus?A simple expansion spell — yet lethal when directed at a human spine.
No difference.Only intent separated light from dark.Magic itself was pure — indifferent to morality.
He tapped the edge of the notebook thoughtfully.
Many claimed that curses damaged the caster's mind over time. That using dark magic would rot the soul.But then — what of the Patronus Charm?It altered the caster's emotions, flooded the mind with an unnatural euphoria, vastly altering the caster's mental state.
The difference was merely that society approved of one and feared the other.
Bondrewd's eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light.
He made another careful note:Patronus: sanctioned emotional alteration. "Positive" result dictates acceptance. No true distinction from Dark magic.
He continued writing, almost methodically.
Emotions.The foundation of spellcasting. The lever through which magic moved.
Control emotions, and you control magic. Control magic, and you control reality.
There were arts to manipulate the mind.To fortify the inner world and shape it anew.
He wrote down a final task:
Study Occlumency. Mastery of self precedes mastery of others.
Bondrewd closed the notebook gently, a quiet finality to the motion.
Sleep could wait.Tomorrow, the real work would begin.
As Bondrewd settled back against the pillow, the shadows of the high-vaulted room stretching long in the moonlight, a final thought curled like smoke through his mind:
"There is no good or evil. Only success... and failure."
A thin smile traced his lips as sleep took him.