Days at Hogwarts

Loren spent some time reading through the list of books Snape had given him. Maybe it wasn't absolutely necessary to improve Snape's opinion of him—but after reading so much already, he felt he'd be missing out if he didn't finish.

The theory behind potion-making was a patchwork of different disciplines. Much of it involved isolating specific ingredients from magical materials—remarkably similar to Muggle chemistry, which held that certain herbs were activated by particular compounds.

Squeezing juice from beans, soaking plant stems in alcohol, distilling active ingredients from liquids... it all echoed the chemistry Loren had studied before.

Some things, however, were rooted more in symbolism—day and night, waxing and waning moons, dew collected under the sun versus dew gathered under moonlight.

When stirring a boiling cauldron, if the instructions said "clockwise," then you only stirred clockwise. Stirring up-and-down or left-to-right might cause an explosion.

Magic obeyed some objective laws—and broke others. Loren didn't plan on getting to the bottom of it. He might never find a definitive answer in his lifetime.

...

That evening, Harry, Ron, and Neville returned to the dormitory together, clearly in high spirits.

Loren smiled slyly, like a ghost appearing behind them. "Harry, how was the afternoon training? Did Wood let you handle the Quaffle?"

Harry blushed slightly. He had flaked on practice that morning. "It went fine. The other players were really friendly."

In reality, Wood had been furious. But thanks to Angelina's comforting and the jokes from George and Fred, his anger had faded. In the end, Wood still let Harry join in and begin proper training.

Feeling guilty, Harry had worked extra hard to prove himself. He flew loops around the pitch on his broom—accidentally disrupting his teammates' positions.

Wood quickly realized that while Harry had incredible talent in the air, he knew absolutely nothing about Quidditch.

Harry's cluelessness earned him a few scoldings and more than one teammate's frustration, but in the end, Wood found it both maddening and hilarious. He offered Harry clear guidance, and after that, things began to run smoothly.

The team's mood improved dramatically. Wood even started to believe that, with Harry as their secret weapon, Gryffindor might just win the Quidditch Cup this year.

Meanwhile, Neville, egged on—or more accurately, provoked—by Ron, had gotten on a broom and tried flying for a while. His feet barely left the ground, and his speed wasn't much faster than Ron walking beside him.

Now, lying in bed, Neville excitedly recounted the experience. "I… I flew past Ron! Oh, you should've seen it! I almost crashed right into him!"

The boys changed into their pajamas, all except for Harry, who was still wearing his coat and hadn't gotten into bed.

Ron glanced over and gasped in disbelief. "You're not going out again to stare at that mirror, are you?!"

"Take me with you!" Seamus, already lying down, suddenly shot upright.

When Seamus had heard that the others had gone on a nighttime adventure the night before, his first reaction wasn't concern about getting caught—it was bitter regret at missing out on a story worth bragging about. How could he show off to Dean now?

He was still resentful. Why?! Why had four out of five people in the dorm gone while he had been asleep?

No way. He had to go tonight. No matter what.

Loren casually picked up his pillow and lobbed it at Seamus. "Don't start."

Then he turned to Harry, his tone gentler. "Harry, remember what the mirror says?"

The green in Harry's eyes dimmed slightly, and he nodded. "It shows not your face, but your desire."

"There are no parents or relatives in that mirror. They're illusions, Harry. Do you understand?"

"But..." Harry didn't know what to say. He just wanted to see his parents a little more.

"Did you enjoy your Quidditch training this afternoon?"

Harry nodded.

"You could've enjoyed the whole day. You were supposed to start in the morning."

Harry looked down, the lesson hitting home. He began to understand: the ghostly images in the mirror had wasted his time.

"No matter how many times you look into that mirror, your parents won't know you gave your love for them to a reflection."

Ron and Neville sat silently, listening. They'd known Harry needed to stop, but hadn't known how to say it. Loren's words made it clear.

Only Seamus remained utterly indignant.

'And me! What about me?! You all saw it—I haven't! This dorm's abandoning me!'

Seamus cried silently inside. He hated himself. Why had he gone to bed so early last night? Couldn't he have stayed up, just this once?

Harry still didn't respond. He was reluctant.

Seeing this, Loren played his trump card. "Tomorrow morning's Transfiguration class. Have you done the homework Professor McGonagall assigned?"

The ultimate move hit too hard. Even Ron, who'd just been watching, was instantly slain. Both he and Harry turned pale with horror.

"Help!!"

Seamus and Neville exchanged glances. This was déjà vu. These two looked exactly the same last week.

...

Later that night, Loren pulled Nico's fantasy book from beneath his covers, gently pressed the first icon with his finger, and entered the library.

The bookshelves stood neatly in rows, the lighting was bright, and every table and chair was in order.

"Good evening, Flamel!" Loren greeted the floating figure.

"Good evening, Loren. Let's start with Hebrew today," Flamel said with a warm smile.

The Book of Abraham wasn't written in a single language, but Hebrew was its core.

Nico didn't want Loren to rely on a translated version. Translations could distort meaning—and different readers could interpret the same line differently.

He believed Loren shouldn't follow the same path he had. Their lives would not be identical. In a world just as turbulent as his had been, if Loren leaned on Nico's translation, he might never even grasp the incomplete Philosopher's Stone.

Besides Hebrew, there were Latin inscriptions, magic runes from alchemical traditions, and even some ancient Chinese characters among the books.

According to Flamel, Loren wouldn't be using the other rooms for a while.

In the duel room, as a first-year student, Loren only had a bit of power behind [Alohomora]. The rest of his spells were basic and nearly useless in combat. Flamel couldn't exactly spar with him like they were schoolchildren play-fighting with sticks.

Looking over Snape's reading list, Flamel nodded in approval. The Hogwarts Potions Master had a sharp eye—these books would be excellent for building foundational knowledge. For now, Loren just needed to follow the school curriculum closely.

As for alchemy, if things progressed quickly, Loren might be able to get started before Christmas and begin dabbling in some simple principles.

So Loren spent the night memorizing bizarre syllables and decoding strange, ancient texts.

Outside the fantasy book, Harry and Ron were frantically copying the Transfiguration homework from Loren, Neville, and Seamus.