James joined the flow of students leaving the classroom. He had an hour until Charms class, which meant time to have a look at the library. He'd asked Xavier about its location on their walk to the tower yesterday, and he was eager to explore.
The library was even more magnificent than he'd hoped. The entrance opened into a vast space that seemed to stretch impossibly far in every direction. Shelves towered overhead, some so high they required ladders to reach the upper levels. Thousands upon thousands of books lined every available surface.
The smell was intoxicating: old parchment, leather bindings, the faint mustiness of ancient texts mixed with the sharper scent of newer volumes.
James stood for a moment, simply overwhelmed by the scope of it. Seven years wouldn't be enough to read everything here. Forget seven, even seventeen years wouldn't be enough.
He began to browse, trying to get a sense of the organization. The library was divided into sections by subject: Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Magical Theory, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Divination, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, but also more obscure topics.
And in the back corner, separated by a rope and a sign reading RESTRICTED SECTION, were the books on darker subjects. James approached but didn't attempt to enter. He'd need a signed note from a professor to access those, and he had no intention of drawing that kind of attention to himself in his first week.
Instead, he made his way to the Ancient Runes section, searching for books that might explain the symbols he'd seen in the Ravenclaw common room. He found several promising titles and settled at a nearby table to read.
Time disappeared. James lost himself in the study of runic alphabets, their historical development, and their use in magical inscription. The patterns he'd seen on the common room walls were definitely runes, but modified and combined with other symbols in a way that required knowledge he didn't yet possess.
His stomach growled, jolting him back to awareness. He checked his watch and swore softly. He was late for lunch.
And Charms started immediately after.
James shoved the books back onto their shelves, grabbed his bag, and ran. He made it to the Great Hall, snatched a roll and some cheese, ate as fast as he could without choking, and then ran again toward the Charms classroom.
An older Hufflepuff girl, seeing his panic, called out directions after she saw him asking a portrait, which saved him from getting lost. He arrived at the Charms classroom just as the last few students were entering.
James slid into an empty seat, slightly out of breath. He was pulling out his parchment and quill when Professor Flitwick bounced into the room.
"Good afternoon, everyone!" The tiny professor climbed onto a stack of books behind his desk so he could see over it properly. "Welcome to Charms! I'm Professor Flitwick, though you first-year Ravenclaws already know that. Welcome to the most versatile, most useful, and dare I say most fun branch of magic you'll study at Hogwarts!"
His enthusiasm was infectious. Several students smiled.
"Charms," Flitwick continued, "is about adding properties to objects or creating effects in your environment. While Transfiguration changes what something is, Charms change what something does. Make sense?"
Heads nodded around the classroom.
"Excellent! Now, Charms interacts beautifully with other branches of magic. Advanced Transfiguration work requires an understanding of Charm principles. At the highest levels, Charms and Ancient Runes combine to create permanent enchantments. Even in your Defense against the Dark Arts books, there will be many spells taught that are charms rather than jinxes or curses. Magic," he said, his eyes twinkling, "is not divided into neat little boxes. It's all connected. The more you understand about one branch, the better you'll be at the others."
"Today, we're going to learn the Wand-Lighting Charm. Simple, practical, and essential. The incantation is Lumos. The wand movement is a gentle upward curve, like this."
He demonstrated, his wand tip erupting with bright white light. "Lumos!"
Then he lowered it. "Nox." The light extinguished.
"Your turn! Remember, gentle movement, clear pronunciation. Lumos!"
The classroom was filled with various attempts. Some students' wands flickered weakly. Others produced nothing. A few managed brief sparks.
James, who'd been casting Lumos for years, simply said the word. "Lumos."
His wand tip burst into brilliant white light, steady and strong.
"Oh!" Flitwick squeaked excitedly. "Oh, look! Someone's already managed it! Mr... ?"
"Acton, sir. James Acton."
"Mr. Acton! Excellent work! Five points to Ravenclaw!" Flitwick practically danced over to examine the light more closely. "Very good. Very good indeed. Strong, steady, well-controlled. Now try turning it off. Nox."
James complied. "Nox."
The light extinguished instantly. And when Flitwick asked him to light it again, James did so without hesitation. The fluidity of his casting, the ease with which he controlled the spell, was obvious.
Flitwick's expression grew more thoughtful. "Tell me, Mr. Acton, did your family teach you magic before you came to Hogwarts?"
"No, sir. I'm Muggleborn. But I practiced after I received my letter and got my wand."
"Ah." Flitwick's face fell slightly. "I must warn the class, then. Now that you're at Hogwarts, the Trace has been activated on all of you. The Ministry monitors underage magic performed outside of school. You will not be able to practice magic at home during holidays without the Ministry being notified. It's for your safety and the safety of those around you."
Several students groaned. Hermione looked personally offended by this restriction.
Flitwick returned his attention to James, his expression curious. "How far did you get in your practice, Mr. Acton?"
"I've worked through all the spells in our textbook, sir," James admitted quietly.
"All of them?" Flitwick's eyebrows rose. "My dear boy, that's quite remarkable. Tell you what, after classes today, come find me in my office. I'd like to assess your skill level properly. No sense having you sit through lessons covering spells you've already mastered."
"Yes, sir."
"Wonderful! Now, class, back to work. Everyone should be attempting Lumos. Mr. Acton, you may work on your homework or read ahead if you wish. Just don't disturb the others."
James pulled out his Transfiguration homework and began writing. The essay on principles of material transformation was straightforward, and his eidetic memory provided every detail from the textbook and McGonagall's lecture. He wrote steadily while around him, students struggled to produce even the faintest glow from their wands.
By the end of class, about half the students had managed to create some light, though only Hermione and a few of his housemates were stable enough to match James's. Flitwick dismissed them with homework to practice the charm and write six inches on the practical applications of the Wand-Lighting Charm.
James packed his things and headed to his final class of the day: History of Magic.
The classroom was in one of the castle's deeper sections, down a long corridor lined with portraits of famous historical figures. James found it easily and entered to discover a room full of students already looking bored despite the class already being started.
He understood why when he heard the drone of Professor Binns' voice.
The ghost of Professor Binns was almost translucent, a vague outline of an elderly wizard. His voice was monotonous, droning, utterly devoid of enthusiasm or energy. Without preamble or introduction, he opened a textbook and began reading directly from it.
"The International Warlock Convention of 1289 was a pivotal moment in the establishment of magical governance structures across Europe. The convention, held in what is now modern-day Belgium..."
Within five minutes, half the class was fighting to keep their eyes open. Within ten minutes, several students had given up and were openly napping, heads on desks. Binns droned on, apparently unaware or unconcerned with his students' attention spans.
James pulled out a different book entirely and began reading. Advanced Principles of Transfiguration Theory. Far more interesting than Binns's monotone recitation of dates and treaties.
The torture continued for ninety minutes. Binns didn't ask questions, didn't check for understanding, didn't deviate from reading the textbook in that sleep-inducing voice. He simply read, paused at the end of the chapter, assigned them to read the next chapter for homework, and floated back through the blackboard without another word.
Students stumbled from the classroom looking dazed.
"That was horrible," Mandy Brocklehurst said, rubbing her eyes.
"I fell asleep three times," Terry Boot admitted.
"I don't think he even knows we're there," Anthony Goldstein muttered.
James couldn't disagree. History of Magic was going to be his least favorite subject, not because history was boring, but because Binns had the power to put a pack of rabid werewolves to sleep.
The first day of classes was officially over. Students scattered, some heading to the Great Hall for an early dinner, others to their common rooms, still others outside to enjoy the late afternoon sun.
James was heading back toward Ravenclaw Tower when a loud BOOM echoed through the corridor, followed immediately by the acrid smell of dung.