The next morning, Alvin woke before sunrise.
Not because he was especially hardworking.
Because the Magic Card System was utterly useless when it came to navigation.
It could hand out legendary bloodlines, phoenix companions, and Character Cards from history’s greatest wizards.
Apparently, however, providing a map was where it drew the line.
If Alvin wanted to avoid becoming one of those unfortunate first-years who arrived late to class after being defeated by Hogwarts itself, he would have to learn the castle the old-fashioned way.
By getting lost repeatedly.
Hogwarts was less a school and more a carefully disguised labyrinth.
Staircases moved whenever they pleased.
Hallways seemed to lead to different places depending on the day.
Hidden passages lurked behind tapestries and suits of armor.
The castle occasionally felt alive.
And not entirely friendly.
After several hours of exploration, Alvin finally committed the most important routes to memory.
The Great Hall.
The Ravenclaw Tower.
The Charms classroom.
A handful of useful shortcuts.
Most importantly, he had learned enough to avoid wandering into a broom cupboard and accidentally calling it a successful morning.
Satisfied with his progress, he headed down to breakfast.
The Great Hall was already busy.
Students filled the House tables, chatting over plates piled high with food.
Alvin found an empty seat and helped himself to breakfast.
Beef pie.
Vegetable soup.
Fresh bread still warm from the ovens.
Simple.
Comforting.
Effective.
As he ate, another thought occurred to him.
If memory served, the Hogwarts kitchens were located somewhere near the Hufflepuff common room.
Perhaps he should visit someday.
After eleven years in Britain, he still occasionally missed those breakfasts.
Fresh soy milk.
Youtiao.
Savory tofu pudding.
Real congee.
Surely house-elves could learn.
If they could feed an entire magical castle, teaching them a few breakfast recipes couldn’t be that difficult.
The more Alvin thought about it, the more Hogwarts felt less like a school and more like an all-inclusive luxury resort.
His room cleaned itself.
Laundry disappeared and returned folded.
Meals appeared by magic.
The first-year schedule was surprisingly light.
He even had an entire day without classes later in the week.
Compared to his previous life, this was paradise.
While he was busy planning a culinary revolution, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Looking up, he found Cho standing beside him.
Marietta was with her.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Cho asked.
Her tone carried the faintest hint of reproach.
“You only arrived yesterday.” “You could have gotten lost.” Alvin laughed.
“I woke up early.” “Thought I’d learn my way around before classes started.” He gestured toward the empty seats across from him.
The two girls sat down.
“What classes do you have today?” Cho asked.
She lightly tapped the table with her wand.
Breakfast immediately appeared in front of her.
“Charms this afternoon.” “And Astronomy tonight.” “Professor Flitwick?” Cho nodded approvingly.
“You’re lucky.” “Professor Flitwick is brilliant.” “One of the best Charms Masters in Britain.” Marietta leaned forward.
“I heard he’s part goblin.” Her eyes sparkled with the excitement of someone about to share valuable gossip.
“And apparently he used to be a dueling champion.” “Really?” Alvin asked.
Marietta nodded enthusiastically.
“That’s what everyone says.” The conversation left Alvin even more curious about the upcoming lesson.
The films had never spent much time on Flitwick.
But among actual witches and wizards, his reputation was clearly extraordinary.
After breakfast, Alvin invited Cho for a walk.
Together they left the castle and followed a winding path toward the Black Lake.
Morning mist lingered above the water.
A cool breeze rippled across the lake’s surface.
In the distance, the dark silhouette of the Forbidden Forest stretched across the horizon.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
There was no need.
The quiet itself felt comfortable.
Alvin glanced sideways.
The breeze lifted strands of Cho’s dark hair.
Sunlight broke through the clouds overhead, casting silver reflections across the water.
For a brief moment, the scene felt almost unreal.
Cho noticed him looking.
A faint blush immediately appeared on her cheeks.
Alvin smiled.
Then gently took her hand.
She didn’t pull away.
Together they found an empty bench overlooking the lake.
The castle stood behind them.
The lake stretched endlessly before them.
The Forbidden Forest waited in the distance, mysterious and ancient.
The world seemed remarkably peaceful.
After a while, Cho rested her head against his shoulder.
Alvin slipped an arm around her.
Neither said anything.
Neither needed to.
They were eleven years old.
This was more than enough.
Eventually, Cho had to leave for class.
Reluctantly, they returned to the castle and went their separate ways.
With nothing scheduled until the afternoon, Alvin returned to his room.
Then he enjoyed what he considered one of civilization’s greatest achievements.
A midday nap.
Later that afternoon, Alvin arrived at the Charms classroom.
The lesson was shared with Hufflepuff.
Meaning there was no sign of Harry, Ron, or Hermione.
Several students had already claimed seats near the front.
Alvin preferred the middle rows.
Close enough to pay attention.
Far enough away to avoid becoming an unwilling volunteer.
He slid into a seat beside a familiar face.
“Afternoon, Anthony.” Anthony Goldstein looked up from his textbook.
“Afternoon, Alvin.” The two had spoken several times since arriving at Hogwarts.
Anthony came from a wizarding family and possessed the sort of easygoing intelligence Alvin found pleasant to be around.
Before they could continue their conversation, the classroom door opened.
Professor Flitwick entered.
Or rather, bounced into the room.
The diminutive Charms Master crossed the classroom with surprising energy before climbing onto a stack of books behind his desk.
The sight was oddly charming.
Pulling out the register, Flitwick began taking attendance.
The process triggered an unexpected flashback.
For a brief moment, Alvin was back in a university lecture hall from his previous life.
The memory vanished as quickly as it came.
Fortunately, every student was present.
Once attendance was complete, Flitwick snapped the register shut.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice carried easily throughout the room.
“Charms are among the most important branches of modern magic.” He paced energetically atop his stack of books.
“Through charms, witches and wizards alter the properties and behavior of the world around them.” “Transfiguration may transform objects.” “Defence Against the Dark Arts may protect you from danger.” “But at their foundation, nearly all magical disciplines rely upon spellcraft.” His eyes gleamed.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” Flitwick raised his wand.
A nearby desk rose smoothly into the air.
Gasps spread through the classroom.
The desk floated effortlessly across the room.
Then it spun once.
Twice.
Before beginning a graceful dance above the students’ heads.
“Wingardium Leviosa,” Flitwick announced.
The desk completed a final elegant turn.
Then the professor flicked his wand again.
“Evanesco.” The desk vanished.
Completely.
The classroom immediately erupted into excited whispers.
Exactly as Flitwick intended.
A moment later, another flick of his wand restored the desk to its original position.
“Now then.” “Today’s lesson.” He raised his wand.
“Lumos.” A bright light appeared at its tip.
“The Wand-Lighting Charm.” “The incantation is simple.” “However, proper wand movement, concentration, and pronunciation remain essential.” For the next several minutes, Flitwick carefully explained every detail.
Wand angles.
Hand positioning.
Casting rhythm.
Common mistakes.
Methods of correction.
Only after he was satisfied did he allow the students to begin.
The room immediately filled with attempts.
“Lumos!” “Lumos!” “Lumos!” Nothing happened.
Then a few sparks.
Then another failed attempt.
A handful of students managed weak glows that flickered out almost immediately.
Alvin drew his wand.
He had mastered the spell long ago through the system.
Still, there was no reason to deliberately fail.
“Lumos.” Bright white light blossomed from the tip of his wand.
Unlike the unstable glimmers around the room, his remained perfectly steady.
Then, with a thought, he adjusted the output.
White became blue.
Blue shifted into gold.
Gold flowed into crimson.
The colors changed smoothly, transitioning from one to another like liquid light.
Professor Flitwick froze.
Then he hurried over so quickly that Alvin briefly worried he might fall off a desk along the way.
“Excellent!” The professor looked genuinely delighted.
“Absolutely excellent, Mr.
Gaunt!” Students immediately turned to stare.
“You succeeded on your very first attempt.” “And you’ve already begun experimenting with variations.” Flitwick’s eyes shone.
In fact, Alvin was fairly certain they were becoming suspiciously moist.
“Thank you, Professor.” Alvin did his best to sound modest.
“I read ahead.” “And I practiced a little before arriving.” Flitwick somehow looked even happier.
Meanwhile, Alvin couldn’t help wondering what sort of students the professor usually dealt with.
Because if a stable Lumos and a few color changes were enough to bring him to the verge of tears…
The average first-year must have been setting truly astonishing standards for magical incompetence.