Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

After the drama that started on Halloween — with laughter echoing through the halls, one student losing their dignity, and another receiving that unforgettable, howling love letter — life at Hogwarts slowly returned to its usual rhythm. Students bustled to their classes, still smiling, still laughing.

But among them, one student walked with more focus than amusement, her mind already on the lesson ahead. Hermione Granger wasn't thinking about gossip or pranks; she was thinking about Charms class. Today, Professor Flitwick was teaching them a new spell — one she had studied again and again but couldn't quite master on her own. She had been waiting for this chance to finally get it right.

Hermione entered the classroom, found her seat, and greeted Professor Flitwick with a polite, "Good morning, Professor." A few minutes later, the room filled with chattering students. She sighed inwardly when she saw who she'd be sitting next to — Ron Weasley. Of all people.

She had never liked him much. Loud, lazy, annoying, and without a shred of the quiet intelligence or manners his siblings seemed to have. He talked with his mouth full, crumbs flying everywhere like it was normal, and acted like everything was one big joke.

Shaking her head, Hermione straightened her posture and turned her attention to Professor Flitwick as he climbed onto his usual stack of books. The tiny Charms professor barely reached the lectern's height, but his cheerful energy filled the room.

"Settle down, everyone! Wands ready!" he called out, his voice bright with excitement. Behind him, the chalk floated into place, neatly spelling the lesson title across the board:

Lesson 5: The Wingardium Leviosa Levitation Charm

"Now," Flitwick continued, pacing along the books with practiced ease, "Levitation isn't just about making objects float. It's about control, grace, and precision. The incantation is: Wingardium Leviosa — emphasis on the gar and o-sa, not Leviosar, mind you."

His eyes twinkled knowingly, clearly having corrected that mistake more times than he could count.

Hermione mouthed the words to herself. Wingardium Leviosa. She had practiced in the common room at least a dozen times, determined to get it right.

Flitwick raised his wand. "Watch carefully — the wand movement is just as important. A smooth swish upward, followed by a light flick at the tip."

With a graceful motion, he demonstrated — swish and flick — then aimed his wand at the feather on his desk.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather lifted gently into the air, hovering effortlessly before drifting softly back down.

A few students clapped quietly. Even Harry leaned forward, looking impressed.

"Your turn!" Flitwick announced, clapping his small hands together. "Feathers ready, everyone! Clear pronunciation, steady wrist!"

Hermione placed her feather on the desk, her hand steady, her wand poised.

Ron fumbled beside her, already muttering under his breath, but she blocked him out, focusing only on the task at hand.

Swish and flick…

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Her feather trembled, then slowly rose into the air, floating upward with perfect control.

Hermione's heart lifted with it. She had done it. Finally — after all her practice, frustration, and determination — she could cast the spell properly. Thanks to Professor Flitwick's help, she had learned it at last.

But it wasn't so easy for everyone.

Across the room, students groaned with frustration. Feathers flopped onto desks or sparked at the edges. Beside her, Ron's feather lay stubbornly still, while Seamus's quill singed slightly at the tips.

But Hermione barely noticed. She was too focused, too pleased, watching her feather drift gracefully down.

"Wonderful, Miss Granger!" Professor Flitwick called. "Five points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione beamed, pride humming through her. She was finally doing real magic — and loving every second of it.

Before she could fully enjoy her small victory, Ron let out an exasperated huff beside her.

"This is impossible," he muttered, gripping his wand like a club. His feather sat on the desk, unmoving.

Hermione, remembering her own earlier frustration, couldn't help but notice his mistake.

"You're doing it wrong," she said, glancing at him. Her voice was calm but firm. "It's Wingardium Levi-o-sa, not Leviosar."

Ron scowled. "Yeah, yeah — easy for you to say, Miss Know-It-All."

Hermione ignored his tone, turning her attention back to the motion. Swish and flick, graceful and light. Clear, precise, controlled.

Ron jabbed his wand again, his wrist stiff as a broomstick.

"Vingarjum Leviosa!"

Nothing happened — except a few aggressive sparks that popped from his wand's tip, singeing the edges of the feather and startling Seamus in the next row.

A faint wisp of smoke curled upward.

"Brilliant," Ron groaned, fanning at the smoke.

Hermione rolled her eyes but held back from scolding him properly. She glanced at Professor Flitwick, who was busy helping Neville at the front, unaware of Ron's failed attempt.

"It's all in the wrist," Hermione whispered, demonstrating the graceful motion again. "And pronunciation matters. Honestly."

Ron mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "bossy," but Hermione didn't care. Her feather floated perfectly — proof enough she was right.

Ron's smouldering mess? Well, some people clearly needed the extra practice.

When the class ended, students packed up their things and hurried off to lunch. Hermione followed, her stomach rumbling. She hadn't eaten properly at breakfast — too distracted by the drama — but now she was determined to have a good meal.

As she stepped out of the classroom, she spotted Ron and Harry ahead, deep in conversation. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but as she got closer, their voices carried toward her — and what she heard made her freeze in place.

"Seriously, I don't know what's with her," Ron was saying, his voice filled with irritation. "Several times I told her, you told her, others told her — stop sticking her nose in other people's business. But she's so infuriating, she doesn't listen. No wonder they got her beaten and dumped outside. I say she deserved it."

Hermione's chest tightened. The words hit her like a curse. The night she was attacked… left alone, hurt, and terrified… The fear, the pain, the poisonous words from her roommates… it all came rushing back, stronger than ever.

Harry's voice followed, softer, but no comfort.

"Yeah, she's annoying… but let's not say that. Whatever she is, she's still a Gryffindor."

But the damage was done.

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she fought to hold them back. For two months, she had bottled up every awful feeling — the loneliness, the bullying, the ache of missing her parents — but now, the cracks split wide open.

She hurried past them, head down, heart aching, and ran to the only place she could think of — somewhere she could be alone.