No matter what school Skyl attended, he was always a free spirit.
At the College of Winterhold, mages each went their own way and rarely talked to one another. At Hogwarts, Skyl was a special case all the same.
As a transfer student his timetable was extremely loose. He was allowed to sit in on any class from first to fifth year, so his schedule could be crammed full if he wanted it to be—but even if he skipped classes all day, not a single professor would really blame him.
A week after term began at Hogwarts, Skyl had already lost interest in most subjects and only turned up to the ones he personally found entertaining.
Herbology was far too basic compared to what he could study on his own in The Tower of Tomes, so he only went once.
History of Magic felt pointless; Skyl was far more interested in the ghost who taught it than in the subject itself, and again, he went only once.
Defence Against the Dark Arts was famous at Hogwarts for being a disaster of a course, and Skyl skipped even the very first lesson.
Astronomy held little research value for him, and Flying simply failed to spark his enthusiasm. The rest of the optional subjects were nice to have, but hardly necessary.
Fifth-years were supposed to spend this year preparing for their O.W.L.s. Skyl's plan was to cram a week before the exams and not bother attending class the rest of the time.
So in the end, Skyl only went to Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration—taught by Professors Flitwick, Snape, and McGonagall—three teachers whose classes were at least high-level enough not to put him to sleep.
In the very first Charms lesson for first-years, Professor Flitwick stood on top of a pile of books—his goblin heritage had left him very short—and the first spell he taught the class was "Lumos."
Even for this simplest of charms, Professor Flitwick still painstakingly explained all sorts of points to watch out for. He even brought up the textbook example every Harry Potter fanfic just had to mention: the unfortunate wizard who mispronounced an incantation and ended up conjuring a bull.
It was only after they started learning real magic that Harry and the others truly realized just how unfathomable Skyl's level was. He didn't need to speak incantations, didn't need to swing a wand—casting for him was like breathing, an instinct that went without saying.
Professor Flitwick let everyone try for themselves. Skyl remembered how, when he had just arrived in the world of The Elder Scrolls, he had relied on Lumos every night in that little hut in the wilderness. It was probably the spell he had used the most in his life.
Hermione was the first to succeed. This little witch from a Muggle family had a stubborn streak that refused to lose; she had to come first in everything. When a warm white star lit up at the tip of her wand, Professor Flitwick immediately awarded Gryffindor five points in praise.
Harry followed soon after. He looked excitedly at Skyl, emerald eyes full of expectation.
"Not bad," the transfer student said with a smile. That alone was enough to make Harry glow with happiness. At this stage of his life he was like a house-elf toward any scrap of kindness, treating it as a priceless treasure.
Lights began to appear one after another around the classroom. A boy named Seamus tried several times, then suddenly a small spray of sparks burst from his wand tip, giving the students nearby a scare.
Neville managed it too, though he lagged behind most of the others.
The last to succeed was Ron. He glared resentfully at his battered old wand; clearly he'd decided it was this wretched thing that was holding him back.
Professor Flitwick noticed Skyl hadn't moved at all, and hadn't even taken out his wand.
"Mr. De Lin, why aren't you trying the charm with everyone else? Are you having some difficulty?"
Skyl simply raised his index finger. A ball of light rose at its tip.
"Splendid non-verbal, wandless casting! Ten points to Gryffindor!" Professor Flitwick cried in delight. "Your standard is far beyond first-year level, Mr. De Lin. I strongly recommend you attend higher-year classes."
Harry clapped enthusiastically, and the other young witches and wizards, not quite sure what was going on, followed suit and applauded as well.
Once the clapping died down, Professor Flitwick briefly explained to the new students just how difficult wandless and non-verbal casting was. In short, even for a simple lighting charm, only a tiny number of witches and wizards could reach Skyl's level. Lumos might be simple, but those two techniques formed a huge barrier. Every single spell's wandless, non-verbal casting required dedicated, grueling training, and could never be mastered overnight.
Hermione remembered how Skyl had left glowing footprints on the floor and called it a special technique, so she hurriedly leaned over to ask him about it.
Skyl answered her, "That's spell-transfiguration."
"What's spell-transfiguration?" Harry was curious too.
"When you've mastered a spell thoroughly enough, and you have a deep understanding of Transfiguration, you can start trying to modify a spell's effect to achieve what you want. Like this."
The light at Skyl's fingertip suddenly dimmed. The bright white glow shifted to a crystal-like glimmer, then it began to swell from a grain of rice to the size of his palm. Its shape started to change as well, breaking apart into a cloud of mist that took on the forms of various animals.
His spellcasting drew the attention of the students around him.
Professor Flitwick also paused to watch his demonstration.
Skyl dispersed the light and apologized for disturbing the class.
"There's no need to apologize. That was an excellent demonstration," said Flitwick. "Your level is far beyond what someone your age should be able to do. Have you studied at another school before, Mr. De Lin?"
"Something like that," Skyl replied without elaborating.
Professor Flitwick was delighted. "If you have time after lessons, you're welcome to come and discuss magic with me. We have a little Charms club—may I have the honor of inviting you to become a full member?"
"I'd be happy to discuss magic with you, Professor, but joining a club wouldn't be my first choice. I'd rather found a society of my own."
"Ah, a born leader. Very well—have it your way, Mr. De Lin."
After class, a crowd of young witches and wizards gathered around Skyl to ask about the society he had mentioned.
"My society was already founded back at the College of Winterhold," Skyl said as he strolled across the lawn with them, walking along a path washed in sunlight. "Only those truly gifted at spellcasting are qualified to join."
"What kind of gift?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Oh, Harry, what do you think counts as being gifted?" Skyl stopped and looked around him at all those young faces.
"Is it sensitivity to magic?" His gaze came to rest on Hermione, whose cheeks flushed bright red.
"Is it courage in the face of evil?" Skyl's eyes swept casually over the group, and the children all straightened their backs.
"Or is it a stubborn, unshakable drive toward your goal, whether for good or ill?" His eyes returned to Harry.
"I don't know, sir."
"Of course you don't. Because, in truth, I don't really believe in talent either. Most of the time, that's just something people say to fool the masses. So I only judge prospective members by their actions. Pass my trials, and you can join my society. I'll share real knowledge—knowledge that lets a spellcaster wield the power of destruction, toy with opponents, bend the world to their will, and even challenge the gods themselves: the true principles of magic."
The little witches and wizards held their breath. They could hardly believe what Skyl was saying, yet somewhere deep inside, a faint longing began to stir.
"Can I take the test?" Harry didn't hesitate for a second. Hermione immediately followed, then Neville, Ron, and the other children all scrambled to sign up.
"Anyone can take part," Skyl said. "I've already left clues hidden around the castle. Those who observe carefully will notice what's out of place in the ordinary, and follow it, step by step, all the way to that door."
"That door?"
"That's right," Skyl said calmly. "The narrow gate to the hidden vault."