HP: Infinite Talent, Ch 16-20

Chapter 16 — A Relaxing School Life

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Ark was already awake.

After washing up in the bathroom, he put on his plain black Hogwarts robes—but skipped the pointed hat.

Hogwarts required all students to wear the school uniform during term. Hats were optional, but robes were mandatory—whether in class, at meals, or studying in the Great Hall. Only in their dormitories or during holidays were students allowed to wear other clothes.

It was already September, and the Scottish Highlands had begun to cool. Wearing robes wasn’t stifling—it was actually a bit chilly.

Ark was used to it by now. At half past seven, he left his dormitory and stepped into the Ravenclaw Common Room.

At this hour, the common room was nearly empty. Most students were still asleep, buried under their blankets.

At Hogwarts, breakfast began around seven-thirty, and the first class didn’t start until nine. For most students—especially the lazy ones—getting up even an hour later was still enough to make it on time. Those awake before eight were a rare breed indeed.

Ark wasn’t particularly fond of early mornings himself, but as someone new to the castle, he didn’t want to risk getting lost and being late. He planned to eat first, then explore the school to get familiar with the grounds.

Carrying his book, he left the Ravenclaw Common Room, descended from Ravenclaw Tower, and made his way through a long corridor toward the Great Hall.

Just like the common room, the hall was almost deserted. Of the four long House tables, one or two were completely empty, and the quiet atmosphere stood in stark contrast to last night’s bustling Welcoming Feast.

Ark looked around and spotted a familiar face at the Gryffindor table—Hermione Granger.

“Byrne!”

She saw him at the same time, her eyes lighting up as she waved.

“Morning, Granger,” Ark greeted as he walked over with a smile. “You’re up early.”

“I wanted to explore the castle a bit,” Hermione said earnestly, hugging a book to her chest. “According to Hogwarts: A History, the staircases move. You never know when one will send you back where you started—or somewhere completely different.”

She sighed dramatically. “A lot of students who don’t understand how the staircases move end up late to class. And the school rules specifically say you can’t use them as an excuse.”

Of course. That was so very Hermione.

“So you woke up early to study the castle?” Ark chuckled. “What a coincidence—I was planning to do the same. Want to look around together?”

“Can I?” Hermione’s eyes widened again, then she asked quickly, “I mean, you’re not meeting anyone else, are you?”

“No,” Ark said, shaking his head. “There’s an odd number of first-years this year. I ended up with a dorm to myself, so I don’t have any set plans with anyone.”

He tactfully left out why she might be alone too.

He already knew that Miss Know-It-All’s personality didn’t always mesh well with her peers—especially in Gryffindor—so she hadn’t made friends yet.

It was no surprise, really. Hermione often kept to herself until she eventually met her famous two companions.

Knowing this, Ark decided to reach out first.

“That’s great!” Hermione said brightly, flashing a wide smile that revealed her front teeth—then she blushed, hastily adding, “I mean, I didn’t have plans either, so I’d love to!”

Clearly, she didn’t want him to realize she’d been left out.

Ark just smiled, pretending not to notice. “See you in a bit, then.”

“Mm! See you soon!”

After they parted, Ark headed to the Ravenclaw table and sat down.

The moment he did, breakfast appeared—porridge, rolls, eggs, bacon, and toast. It wasn’t as grand as the Welcoming Feast, but it was more than enough to fill him up.

He ate his porridge slowly while flipping through his book, reading as he ate. Across the hall, Hermione noticed and, feeling inspired, did the same.

By the time Ark was finishing his meal, a parchment drifted down from midair and landed in front of him—his class schedule.

He picked it up and scanned it.

To his mild surprise, first-year coursework was incredibly light.

There were seven main subjects: Transfiguration class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions, Astronomy, History of Magic, and Herbology.

Each day had three classes—usually two in the morning and one in the afternoon. Occasionally, there’d be an evening lesson or a day with only two. All told, classes rarely exceeded three hours a day. The rest of the time was entirely free until after dinner, when students could study in their common rooms or join clubs.

Since Hogwarts didn’t have a massive student body, most classes were shared between two Houses.

For example, today Ravenclaw had Potions in the morning with Hufflepuff, and History of Magic in the afternoon with Slytherin. Charms, Transfiguration, and Astronomy would be with Gryffindor—but those were scheduled later in the week.

Starting next week, they’d also have Flying lessons—a mandatory first-year course teaching how to fly a Flying Broomstick. It was easily the most anticipated class among new students, though it wouldn’t begin until the second week.

“Not bad,” Ark murmured. “First-year workload’s pretty light. That means plenty of free time to use as I like.”

He began mentally planning how best to spend it.

Of course, first he had to master the castle’s mischievous staircases—those things seemed designed to confuse newcomers.

“I’m ready, Byrne! Can we go now?”

Hermione trotted up to him, clutching her book.

“Sure.” Ark downed the last spoonful of porridge and stood. “Oh, and call me Ark. Using my last name feels a bit formal, doesn’t it?”

“All right.” Hermione hesitated for a second, then said softly, “Then you can call me Hermione. My parents do.”

Ark almost teased, And what do your friends call you?—but wisely swallowed the thought.

After all, the future Minister for Magic didn’t have any friends yet.

He couldn’t help smiling at the thought. I wonder if anyone at school will regret not befriending her someday.

Shaking his head, Ark left the hall alongside Hermione.

……

There were one hundred and forty-two staircases in Hogwarts Castle, and every single one seemed to have a mind of its own.

Some were wide and grand, others narrow and creaky. A few swayed dangerously underfoot, and several changed destinations every Friday. One moment a staircase would be there—then the next, gone entirely. One wrong step could send you tumbling.

Starting from the first floor, Ark and Hermione spent the next hour struggling through them all. Sometimes they were whisked past their intended floor and dumped elsewhere; other times, just as they reached the top, the stairs carried them right back down again. It was enough to make anyone want to kick them.

Hermione, of course, actually did.

Unfortunately, the staircase took offense and promptly vanished beneath her feet.

Luckily, Ark had already mastered the Levitation Charm and caught her easily before she hit the floor. Even so, Hermione went white as a sheet, trembling as though she’d just had a near-death experience. After that, she didn’t dare lose her temper again and moved carefully from step to step.

From before eight until nearly nine, the two of them wandered the moving stairways until they’d finally learned their general layout—at least enough not to get hopelessly lost.

As the clock neared nine, they said their goodbyes, and Ark hurried off toward the Potions classroom for his first lesson of the day.

Chapter 17: The Sharp-Tongued Potions Professor

The Potions classroom was located deep beneath Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—cold, shadowy, and faintly damp.

Along the stone walls stood rows of glass jars filled with preserved creatures—some recognizable, some better left unnamed. The long wooden tables were lined with brass scales and jars of mysterious ingredients. Between them stood more than twenty cauldrons. In the corner, a stone basin rested under a gargoyle-shaped spout, presumably for washing hands and spoons.

Ark hurried in just before nine o’clock. Even so, he wasn’t the last to arrive.

A handful of other Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students rushed in right behind him, sliding into seats with the panicked air of those narrowly escaping disaster. No one had time to greet anyone else before—

Bang!

The classroom door burst open at exactly nine o’clock.

A tall, dark figure swept in—greasy black hair, hooked nose, sallow skin, black robes billowing around him like a giant bat. His cold eyes scanned the room, and a thin, mirthless smile curved his lips.

“So, no one was foolish enough to be late on the first day,” he drawled softly. “Pity.”

A nervous ripple went through the class. Several students stiffened in their seats.

Ark, however, wasn’t one of them. He watched the man with keen interest, studying him the way one might study a particularly dangerous potion.

Severus Snape—Professor of Potions, Head of Slytherin House, and one of the youngest in Hogwarts history to hold that title. A Potions Master respected by both Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort.

A man deeply entangled in the tragic history of Harry Potter’s parents.

While Ark observed him with fascination, Snape dropped the roll of parchment he’d been carrying onto his desk and began to speak in his usual cold, deliberate tone.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making.”

“Since there will be no foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic at all. I do not expect you to truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...”

His black eyes glittered.

“I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death—if you are not as great a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

The room fell silent.

Potions—magic in liquid form. They could heal, harm, or alter body and mind in strange and marvelous ways. It was one of the most vital skills a young wizard or witch could master.

Swish!

With a flick of Snape’s wand, a blackboard slammed down from the wall. Lines of neat white writing appeared across its surface.

“A simple Cure for Boils,” he announced flatly. “Useful for treating pustules, measles, boils, and various lymphatic infections. A single bottle works in seconds.”

His eyes flicked over the class.

“Dried nettles, snake fangs, horned slugs, porcupine quills. Four ingredients. If your brains aren’t still back in your dormitories, you might manage to produce something vaguely drinkable.”

Dozens of students held their breath, frozen under his gaze. Then—

“What are you waiting for?” Snape suddenly barked. “Do I have ingredients written on my face? Move!”

His shout sent a jolt through the class. Everyone scrambled to their feet, rushing to the supply cabinet like startled rats.

“Two to a cauldron,” Snape said icily. “One set of ingredients per pair. Begin. You have plenty of time—today’s lesson is a double period.”

“The process is written on the board. Read it carefully. Memorize it. If anyone ruins the ingredients...” He trailed off, a thin smirk curling his mouth.

The threat hung heavy in the air. Students swallowed hard and hurried to work.

In only a few minutes, Snape had managed to establish himself as one of the most terrifying figures in the hearts of every first-year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff present.

Some of them even wondered if, should they fail, the Professor might actually throw them into a cauldron next.

Merlin forbid.

Soon, a chorus of nervous clinking and bubbling filled the dungeon as tiny witches and wizards lit their fires and began brewing, hands trembling.

Ark turned his attention back to his own workstation.

“Um… Bryne, is there something I can do to help?” came a small, hesitant voice beside him.

His partner was a dark-haired girl with warm brown skin and wide, anxious eyes.

Padma Patil—Ravenclaw, like him. She was of Indian descent and, if Ark remembered correctly, had a twin sister, Parvati Patil, Sorted into Gryffindor.

He remembered the name well. In the original story, the Patil twins were among the prettiest girls in their year. During the Triwizard Tournament, they were Harry’s and Ron’s dates to the Yule Ball, to the envy of many.

For now, though, Padma was still just a nervous first-year with her hair in neat braids and an expression that screamed please don’t let me explode anything.

Ark had no idea how she’d ended up as his partner, but he wasn’t complaining. The rest of the class had paired off at random, desperate to avoid Snape’s attention.

“Alright,” Ark said after a moment’s thought. “You handle the snake fangs—grind them into fine powder. Measure out the dried nettles. I’ll steam the horned slugs and cut the porcupine quills.”

“Got it!” Padma nodded quickly and began working, hands trembling only slightly.

Ark focused on his own task.

He already knew this potion—the Cure for Boils—from reading Magical Drafts and Potions. He’d memorized the recipe but had never brewed it himself. Potions ingredients were expensive, and he’d never had the money for practice materials.

Without proper supervision, self-study could only take him so far. Timing, stirring direction, temperature—all of it required experience and precision.

So this time, he intended to take it seriously.

Just preparing the ingredients took him nearly half an hour. Finally, he arranged them in order, double-checked the steps, and began adding them into the bubbling cauldron.

Soon, a soft glooping sound filled the air, and faint pink smoke began to rise.

“Hmph.”

Ark froze as Snape’s shadow loomed behind him. The Professor had been standing there for a full ten minutes, silent and watchful.

Seeing the pink vapor, Snape gave a curt sniff.

“Careless—but at least it worked. Don’t forget to bottle it.”

Without another word, he swept away, cloak billowing like wings, leaving a trail of scathing remarks in his wake.

“That’s powdered snake fang, not chunks! Hufflepuff, minus two points!”

“The horned slug needs steaming, not rinsing—trying to drown it, are you? Ravenclaw, minus two points!”

“‘A pinch of dried nettles’—do you know what a pinch is? Hufflepuff, minus three points!”

“And you—if you add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire, I’ll personally let you eat lunch with a face full of boils! Ravenclaw, minus five points!”

“You’re the worst batch of students I’ve ever had!”

As the deductions piled up, Ark’s mouth twitched.

With a Head of House like that, it would be a miracle if Slytherin didn’t win the House Cup every single year.

What a bloody snake.

Chapter 18: The Most Precious Treasure

After two full Potions lessons, by the time class ended, nearly every first-year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff looked like they’d been sprayed with a mouthful of Snape’s poison.

Under the sharp tongue of the notoriously venomous Professor, more than a few students completely fell apart. Even simple brews they could’ve succeeded at under normal circumstances ended in failure. By the end of the day, both Houses had lost over a dozen points each—on the very first day of term.

As for duos like Ark and Padma, who actually managed to finish their potion successfully, Snape only tossed out a curt “mediocre” or “barely acceptable” before sweeping off in that infuriating, billowing way of his. He had no intention whatsoever of awarding points.

Ark was practically grinding his teeth. With a Head of House this biased, how was Ravenclaw supposed to outscore Slytherin and win the House Cup?

He refused to believe Snape docked points from his own House this way.

But what could he do? Snape was the Professor; he was just a student. There was no fighting the system. If complaining or reporting actually worked, Slytherin wouldn’t have won the House Cup six years running.

If normal classwork won’t earn points faster than Slytherin can rig the game… then I’ll just have to find another way.

The thought struck him hard, and Ark began turning over possibilities in his mind.

When class ended, most students bolted for the door as if escaping a death sentence. Ark, however, lingered behind, still lost in thought, walking slowly rather than running.

Padma hesitated nearby, clearly wanting to speak to him, but in the end, she decided not to interrupt. With a regretful glance, she joined the other girls and left the dungeon.

Even by lunchtime, Ark hadn’t come up with a solid plan.

“Forget it. I’ll let it rest for now.”

He gave his cheeks a quick slap and exhaled, deciding to shelve the matter.

The year’s just started. There’s no need to rush.

Winning the House Cup was important, sure—but he hadn’t forgotten his true purpose in coming to Hogwarts: to learn magic.

With that in mind, Ark quickened his pace toward the library.

The Hogwarts library was one of the most important places in the entire castle.

Its collection was enormous—tens of thousands of books, at least several thousand shelves, and hundreds of aisles winding through a space so vast it defied imagination. Even the descriptions in the school guide couldn’t do it justice.

The library’s foundation stretched back over a thousand years, its shelves filled with books collected since the founding of Hogwarts itself. It was the living record of a millennium of magical knowledge.

To Ark, this place was without question one of the most essential—and sacred—parts of the school.

If someone were to ask what the most precious treasure in Hogwarts was, some might say the Philosopher’s Stone recently stored within its walls. Others might argue it was one of the four founders’ relics.

But to Ark, the truest treasure was this very library, for within it lay countless tomes of magic waiting to be uncovered.

Dumbledore had once studied here, amassing the wisdom that made him the greatest wizard of his age.

Voldemort had also studied here—and it was from these shelves that he discovered the method of creating Horcruxes, beginning his dark transformation.

Throughout history, countless witches and wizards had risen to greatness thanks to the knowledge found here. Some mastered extraordinary spells. Others learned to craft rare magical items. Still others used what they found to carve their names into legend.

Every Hogwarts student could freely enter the library. With the exception of the Restricted Section, the rest of the collection was open for borrowing.

Some students didn’t appreciate what that meant. They coasted through seven years, learning only what was covered in class. But others understood the privilege and used it to widen the gap between themselves and their peers. That, Ark thought, was why Hogwarts graduates varied so wildly in skill.

There were those who, after graduation, seemed to forget every spell they’d ever learned—wizards in name only, barely able to cast a decent charm. And then there were those who shot to prominence, becoming names everyone in the magical world knew.

The difference was simple: whether they had made good use of the library.

For Ark, the library was one of the main reasons he’d wanted to attend Hogwarts in the first place. He wasn’t about to waste such an opportunity.

Once he left Hogwarts, he knew he’d never again have access to magical knowledge this rich, this open.

That’s why he’d decided early on—the library wasn’t just a place to visit. It was a place to live in, every single day if he could help it.

So while most students were still finishing lunch in the Great Hall, Ark was already striding toward the library’s grand double doors.

“A first-year?”

As soon as he stepped inside, a stern-looking witch in dark robes approached him.

“Good afternoon,” Ark said politely, offering a small bow.

“I’m Madam Irma Pince, the librarian,” she replied briskly.

Her gaze was sharp, and her tone even sharper as she gave her warning:

“Listen carefully, young wizard. You’re free to read and borrow any of the books here—but if you scratch, tear, crease, soil, damage, throw, drop, or in any way whatsoever abuse or disrespect them, I will make certain you face the most dreadful consequences I am permitted to inflict. Understood?”

Ark nodded quickly, choosing not to argue. That seemed to satisfy her; her expression softened—slightly.

“And that,” she continued, pointing toward an area roped off in the back, “is the Restricted Section. The books there often contain The Dark Arts or other materials unfit for students. You’ll need written permission from a Professor to enter. No exceptions.”

The area she indicated was noticeably darker than the rest of the library. Fewer shelves, dimmer light—it radiated an unsettling kind of gravity.

Ark glanced at it briefly before turning away.

“I understand,” he said.

Of course he knew that the real treasures were hidden in that section—books so dangerous they could transform a wizard overnight. Tempting, yes, but deadly too.

For now, he’d focus on the safer tomes. Once he’d absorbed everything he could from the main collection, then he’d think about the Restricted Section.

After Madam Pince moved on, Ark began wandering between the towering shelves, eyes wide with awe.

Major Discoveries in Modern Magic.

A Study on the Development of Modern Wizardry.

Peculiar Magical Puzzles and Their Solutions.

The Mad Wizard’s Experiments.

A Guide to Medieval Witchcraft.

Selected Spells of the Eighteenth Century.

Row upon row of precious volumes stretched before him. Some he recognized from shop windows in Diagon Alley; others he’d never even heard of. His heart raced with excitement.

If it weren’t for Hogwarts, most of these books would’ve been out of reach. Even if he could find them elsewhere, the price would be astronomical.

For a broke young wizard like him, this was paradise. Here, he could read to his heart’s content—free.

After some careful deliberation, Ark finally chose a thick volume titled Ancient and Forgotten Magic and Spells. He carried it to the reading tables and sat down.

The book was a study of long-lost enchantments, far older than the modern spells found in The Standard Book of Spells series.

Naturally, everything written inside was new to him.

Ark took a deep breath, activating his talent—Mind Guidance. His thoughts stilled, his focus sharpened, and his mind sank into calm clarity as he began absorbing every word.

“Ark?”

A soft voice spoke beside him, but he didn’t react. He was too deep in concentration, completely oblivious to the world around him.

The girl who had approached him didn’t seem offended. Watching him read so intently, she smiled, admiration flickering in her eyes. Then she picked a book of her own, sat down next to him, and quietly began to read as well.

At that moment, Ark stopped turning pages. His gaze had fallen on a familiar incantation—one that made his heart skip.

Its name: the Patronus Charm.

Chapter 19 — The Little Witch’s Gratitude

Time slipped by unnoticed.

The library grew gradually busier, but no one made a sound. Under Madam Pince’s hawk-like glare, every student sat properly, reading in total silence.

Ark slowly pulled himself out of his deep focus. It was part of his self-set mental discipline—a signal to disengage once a certain amount of time had passed, so he wouldn’t lose track of the hour and miss his afternoon A History of Magic class.

He exhaled softly and closed the book in his hands, deciding he’d borrow it later.

“You finished reading?”

A familiar girl’s voice spoke beside him. Startled, Ark finally realized there was someone sitting next to him.

“Hermione?” He blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

It was indeed Hermione Granger, holding a copy of Evaluations of Magical Education in Europe. She tilted her head toward him, eyes full of amusement.

“I’ve been here for a while. You didn’t even notice?” she whispered, ducking slightly behind her book after a wary glance toward Madam Pince. “You’re amazing, you know. I’ve never seen anyone so absorbed in a book.”

“Sorry,” Ark said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “That’s a bad habit of mine. Whenever I’m studying Magic or reading about it, I get completely lost in it. I don’t notice anything around me.”

He obviously couldn’t mention his special ability—Mind Guidance—so that was the best excuse he could come up with.

“There’s no need to apologize. I understand,” Hermione said earnestly, nodding in agreement. “Sometimes the things you read are just that fascinating, aren’t they?”

“Exactly.” Ark smiled, then added, “Next time, you can just nudge me. That’ll pull me back to reality, no matter how focused I am.”

After all, he wasn’t nearly advanced enough in Mind Guidance to remain oblivious to physical contact. Maybe one day, when his control improved, he could reach that terrifying level of concentration—utterly detached from pain or distraction.

Like the old tale of the general who played chess calmly while having poison scraped from his bone.

Ark chuckled inwardly. When he reached that level, maybe he’d be strong enough to blow Lord Voldemort into ashes with a single spell.

“I’d never interrupt you,” Hermione said quickly. “I don’t like being interrupted when I’m reading either—it really irritates me.”

“Is that so?” Ark smiled again, then smoothly changed the subject. “What class do you have this afternoon?”

“Herbology. We’ve got it with Hufflepuff.” The all-knowing Miss Granger seemed gentler and more reserved around Ark—none of the pride or bossiness she sometimes showed to others. “I’ve never taken a class about magical plants before. Honestly, I’m kind of excited.”

“Herbology’s worth paying attention to,” Ark replied, lowering his voice as he noticed Madam Pince watching them. “I checked the schedule—Ravenclaw and Gryffindor have Charms and Transfiguration class together tomorrow. We can sit together then.”

“Really?” Hermione’s eyes lit up, just like the last time Ark had invited her to work together. “Are you sure I won’t bother you or your friends?”

“You won’t.” Ark grinned. “Right now, I’d say you’re my best friend at Hogwarts.”

After all, she’d been the first person to really talk to him since school started.

Sure, a few Ravenclaw girls had tried to chat him up—mostly the ones who cared more about looks than books—but he hadn’t gotten close to any of them.

Hermione, though, had talked to him for hours on the train and spent half the day interacting with him since. That alone set her apart.

And Ark knew she was struggling in Gryffindor, already starting to feel isolated. For both practical and personal reasons, he couldn’t just leave her to fend for herself.

“Thank you, Ark.”

Hermione’s eyes shimmered faintly with moisture.

The little witch might not have the most pleasant personality yet, but she was sharp—she could tell he was being kind on purpose.

Even though they’d only been at school a short while, she was already feeling insecure about being Muggle-born.

Her classmates weren’t necessarily smarter than her—in fact, most weren’t—but because they came from wizarding families, they looked down on her, their scorn thinly veiled.

So she overcompensated. She showed off what she knew, tried to prove herself through knowledge. But that only made people impatient with her, widening the distance between her and the others.

That was why she avoided spending time with her roommates or fellow Gryffindors, why she came off as proud—it was a mask to hide the sting of being an outsider.

To a girl like that, Ark’s warmth and gentle tone weren’t just comforting; they were deeply moving.

She was still only eleven, after all—bright but fragile, a child who just needed someone to stand beside her.

“When class is over, let’s read together again,” Ark said softly. Something paternal stirred in him—a calm protectiveness he didn’t often feel. “But for now, we should go. We’ll be late.”

Besides, Madam Pince had been glaring daggers at them for nearly five minutes. If they stayed any longer, she might actually pounce.

“All right.”

Hermione nodded obediently, looking far more at ease than before.

The two packed up their things, returned their chairs neatly, and went to the front desk to check out their books.

Ark borrowed Ancient and Forgotten Magic and Spells, the one he hadn’t finished reading, while Hermione checked out Life and Social Customs of British Muggle Families.

The A History of Magic classroom was located on the second floor of the castle.

Unlike the Potions dungeon, it wasn’t cold and damp—but with a ghost for a teacher, the atmosphere still had a definite chill.

Ark stared at the translucent figure floating near the lectern, his expression somewhere between amazement and disbelief.

Professor Cuthbert Binns, the Hogwarts History of Magic teacher, was a real, bona fide ghost.

He’d been teaching at Hogwarts longer than anyone else—some said since the Founders’ era. One day, after dying in his sleep in the staff room, he’d simply gotten up, left his body behind, and returned to class as if nothing had happened. That had been centuries ago.

A ghost teaching in a school—if this were the Muggle world, the place would’ve been branded a haunted house by morning.

But at Hogwarts, ghosts were nothing unusual. Each House even had its own resident ghost. Ravenclaw’s was said to be a lady named Grey, who often drifted through the common room—though Ark hadn’t met her yet.

“Good thing this class isn’t held at night,” Ark muttered under his breath as he opened his borrowed book.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the lesson. It was just… well, A History of Magic was universally known as the most boring subject at Hogwarts.

Professor Binns’s teaching style was unbelievably dull. He droned on endlessly, reciting dates, names, and events from wizarding history with all the enthusiasm of a tombstone. Most students relied on copied notes before exams to scrape by.

And since everything he said was word-for-word identical to what was printed in the A History of Magic textbook, Ark saw no point in wasting time.

He’d already memorized most of it anyway.

“Patronus Charm…”

His gaze landed on the page he’d marked earlier, the same spell that had caught his attention in the library.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“This spell,” he murmured, “might just be the key.”

Chapter 20: I Come from Nothing

The History of Magic lesson finally ended, much to the relief of the half-asleep students slumped over their desks.

With that, the first-years of Ravenclaw were officially done with classes for the day.

Free time at last.

Many of the new students perked up instantly, shaking off their drowsiness. Some made plans to explore the castle, while others decided to head outside and enjoy the afternoon air. Before long, laughter and chatter filled the halls, and Hogwarts once again buzzed with the bright energy of youth.

Ark, however, went straight to the library—where he’d agreed to meet Hermione.

The moment they saw each other, Hermione launched into an enthusiastic retelling of her Herbology class.

“Professor Sprout taught us how to plant dittany! Do you know what that is? It’s a magical plant used in potion-making with powerful healing properties. You can extract dittany essence from it—it instantly heals cuts and lacerations, and when mixed with silver powder, it even treats werewolf bites! It’s actually a pretty rare potion ingredient.”

Hermione spoke rapidly, face glowing with pride, clearly eager to show off.

She went on to say that Professor Pomona Sprout was gentle and kind, and that she’d even called on Hermione to answer a question—earning Gryffindor five points.

Ark scratched his cheek awkwardly at that. He hadn’t managed to earn a single point all day.

Snape, of course, never gave points to anyone outside Slytherin—he was far more likely to take them away—and Professor Binns didn’t interact with students at all. He simply lectured until the bell rang, then drifted straight through the wall without giving anyone a chance to even try currying favor.

Unfortunately, Ravenclaw first-years had drawn the short straw today, having both of those professors back-to-back. They hadn’t gained a single point. In fact, they’d lost several. It was a disastrous start.

Thankfully, Hermione was only bragging to Ark. If she’d said the same thing to other Ravenclaws, they probably would’ve accused her of rubbing it in on purpose.

It wasn’t hard to see why Miss Granger didn’t have many friends yet.

Ark, though, knew she didn’t mean any harm. He smiled, praised her sincerely, and made sure to give her plenty of the emotional validation she clearly needed. It worked like a charm—Hermione beamed, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

They kept chatting until Madam Pince’s sharp voice threatened to scold them into silence. Then they both buried themselves in their books again, reading quietly until dinnertime.

After eating, the two “book fiends” headed straight back to the library and kept studying until eight o’clock, when the doors finally closed for the night. Only then did they reluctantly part ways and return to their dormitories.

By that time, curfew was about to begin.

Hogwarts had plenty of school rules—students were required to wear the Hogwarts uniform during term; boys weren’t allowed in the girls’ dormitories; no excuses about “moving staircases” for being late to class; first-years couldn’t own or use their own Flying Broomsticks; and no one was permitted to use Magic outside school grounds except under special circumstances.

At the Welcoming Feast, Dumbledore had emphasized the curfew policy in particular: after hours, students were forbidden from leaving their common rooms or dormitories. Anyone caught wandering the halls—or worse, sneaking into the Forbidden Forest—would face punishments ranging from detention and point deductions to parental notification or even expulsion.

He’d also mentioned, in that calm yet mischievous way of his, that students were not to enter the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor. He hadn’t explained why, of course, which only made everyone twice as curious.

Ark, however, knew perfectly well what Dumbledore was hiding there—and he also knew better than to get involved. That wasn’t something someone at his level should be touching.

He had no intention of attracting the old man’s attention just yet.

So he behaved himself, returning to Ravenclaw Tower and stopping before the entrance to the common room—only to find a small crowd of Ravenclaws gathered at the door, talking animatedly.

“Byrne!”

Someone spotted him and waved.

It was Padma Patil—his Potions partner from that morning. She was surrounded by a few other first-year girls, all chatting excitedly. As soon as she saw him, she called out, drawing everyone else’s attention too.

“Good evening, Patil,” Ark greeted, quickly stepping closer when he noticed a few older girls looking ready to approach him.

“Good evening!” Padma smiled brightly. “Finally got a chance to talk to you—it hasn’t been easy!”

Ark chuckled. “What, do I look like Professor Snape or something? You think I’d take points off if you said hi?”

“Ugh, don’t mention Professor Snape,” Padma groaned, shoulders hunching. “If it weren’t for you, I never would’ve finished that boil-curing potion. Merlin, I don’t even want to imagine what he’d have said if I’d messed it up.”

She lowered her voice. “A few girls from our House actually got scolded to tears today.”

Several of the other girls nearby shifted uncomfortably—apparently, they were the ones she meant.

“Then let’s change the subject,” Ark said smoothly. “What are you all doing out here anyway?”

“We’re trying to solve the door knocker’s riddle,” Padma explained. “It’s harder than yesterday’s! None of us have gotten it yet.”

If you couldn’t answer correctly, the entrance to the common room simply stayed shut.

So they were all stuck here, debating answers and hoping someone cleverer would show up.

As soon as Ark arrived, a few girls immediately called out:

“Perfect timing—give it a try!”

“You’re really smart, Byrne, you’ll get it for sure!”

“Please, we’re counting on you!”

“If we can’t get in before curfew, it’s all up to you!”

And before he knew it, a dozen soft hands were pushing him gently toward the door.

“All right, I’ll give it a go.”

Curious, Ark lifted the bronze knocker shaped like an eagle and tapped it twice.

The eagle’s beak opened and spoke:

“I come from nothing.

When alone, I am the smallest.

When with others, I am the largest.

What am I?”

That was what had stumped everyone.

But Ark barely hesitated before answering.

“It’s a number—zero.”

“Correct.”

The door swung open.

For a second, everyone just stared. Then a chorus of voices erupted around him.

“It was zero?!”

“How did I not think of that?”

“He got it right in one go!”

Awe and admiration rippled through the group as they turned their wide eyes on Ark.

“You’re amazing!” Padma said excitedly. “You got it so fast! But—why zero?”

The other girls chimed in one after another.

“Yeah, why zero?”

“The first part makes sense—‘I come from nothing’—but why is it largest with others?”

Ark smiled patiently.

“Because when you put two zeros side by side, you get infinity—∞.”

It wasn’t a particularly difficult riddle; otherwise, no one would’ve made it into the common room that night.

Even so, quite a few students had been stuck outside—at least a dozen of them. It reminded Ark of something Hermione had said in the original story: that many Wizards simply lacked logical reasoning skills.

Perhaps Rowena Ravenclaw had realized the same thing, which was why she’d chosen riddles over passwords to guard the entrance. It encouraged mental sharpness—and made for a much better security system.

Tonight, Ark had to admit Hermione was right.

Once inside, the group dispersed—some to chat in the common room, others to head straight for bed.

Ark said goodnight to the girls and returned to his private dormitory.

But when curfew fell and the castle grew silent, he quietly slipped out of bed… and left his room alone once more.