The Ravenclaw dormitory was quiet at dawn. Most students were still asleep, but Ethan was already awake, wand in hand, Cipher perched silently on the windowsill. The sky outside was pale blue, streaked with mist.
He stood in the center of the room, practicing wand movements with deliberate precision.
Lumos. Nox. Wingardium Leviosa.
Each spell was repeated until the motion felt natural, the incantation smooth. He wasn't chasing power—he was refining control. Every flick, every syllable, was a variable in a system he was determined to master.
By breakfast, Ethan had already logged an hour of practice. He joined Terry Boot at the Ravenclaw table, where students chatted over porridge and pumpkin juice.
"You're up early," Terry said, biting into toast.
"Habit," Ethan replied. "I like quiet hours."
Terry nodded. "I tried Leviosa last night. Got my ink bottle halfway up before it exploded."
Ethan smiled. "Try shifting your wrist angle. Slightly clockwise. It stabilizes the lift."
Terry blinked. "You tested that?"
"Repeatedly."
Hermione, seated nearby, overheard. "You're already experimenting with wand physics?"
Ethan glanced at her. "I prefer structure. Magic responds better when you understand its mechanics."
Hermione looked intrigued. "I've been reading about magical theory, but I haven't tested much yet."
"Want to try together?" Terry offered.
Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. After Charms?"
Ethan didn't say it aloud, but he was already planning the session—variables, repetitions, feedback loops. He wasn't just learning spells. He was building a system.
Charms class was held in a sunlit room with floating desks and enchanted chalkboards. Professor Flitwick stood atop a stack of books, cheerful and sharp-eyed.
"Today," he squeaked, "we begin with Wingardium Leviosa. A classic levitation charm. Remember: swish and flick!"
Ethan watched carefully. Flitwick's wand movements were subtle—more rhythm than force. He didn't copy blindly. He internalized the rhythm, adjusted for his own grip, and waited.
When it was his turn, he raised his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The feather rose smoothly, hovered, then settled.
Flitwick clapped. "Excellent, Mr. Blackwood! Very precise."
Ethan nodded politely. He wasn't aiming for praise. He was testing control.
After class, Hermione, Terry, and Ethan gathered in the library. They claimed a quiet corner near the Restricted Section, surrounded by dusty tomes and floating candles.
Terry opened his notebook. "I've been tracking wand angles and spell outcomes. There's a pattern."
Hermione leaned in. "Show me."
Ethan studied the sketches—arcs, symbols, notes on emotional state. "You're onto something. But you need more data."
"I was hoping we could run trials," Terry said. "Different spells. Different moods."
Hermione smiled. "I'll log emotional variables. Ethan can handle motion tracking."
Ethan nodded. "And we'll need a control group. Same spell, same conditions, different casters."
They spent the next hour testing Lumos under different conditions—calm, excited, distracted. Hermione recorded reactions. Terry adjusted wand angles. Ethan tracked consistency.
By the end, they had a chart of success rates and movement tolerances.
"This is brilliant," Hermione said. "We're building magical analytics."
Ethan smiled. "It's just the beginning."
Over the next week, Ethan's routine solidified.
Early morning drills in the dormitory
Focused note-taking during lectures
Collaborative experiments with Terry and Hermione
Quiet evenings reviewing spell theory and magical history
He didn't rush. He didn't show off. But word spread.
"Blackwood's precise," one student whispered. "He doesn't miss," said another. "His wand work is clean. Like he's rehearsed it a hundred times."
Ethan didn't respond to the attention. He logged it. Measured it. Watched how it shifted classroom dynamics.
He wasn't trying to stand out. He was trying to understand.
One evening, while reviewing Transfiguration theory, Terry asked, "Do you ever get tired of being so exact?"
Ethan looked up. "Precision isn't tiring. It's stabilizing."
Terry nodded slowly. "I admire that. I get distracted. I chase ideas."
"That's valuable too," Ethan said. "You see connections I miss."
Hermione joined them, arms full of books. "I found a reference to wand harmonics. It suggests that magical resonance can be tuned like music."
Ethan's interest sharpened. "Show me."
They pored over the text, debating implications. Could wand cores be attuned? Could spells be layered like chords?
They weren't just learning magic.
They were decoding it.