Harry Potter: House Magus

The final weeks of the year swept by in a blur, the castle alive with restless energy. Exams devoured the days, each classroom thick with the smell of ink and tension. Parchment filled with frantic scribbles, quills snapping under pressure, and spells backfired with alarming frequency as nerves overcame preparation. Students crammed late into the night under the dim glow of floating candles, whispering answers back and forth, while others stumbled out of classrooms with pale faces and muttered curses.

Richard moved through it all with the same attitude he always carried. He entered exams calmly, his answers written in clean strokes, his wandwork precise without wasted movement. While others sweated under pressure, he seemed to absorb the tension and turn it into a source of focus. Professors noticed as well, approving glances from Dumbledore during Transfiguration, the satisfied smile from Slughorn during Potions, but none drew attention to him directly.

By spring, the professors had formed their own quiet opinions of Richard, though few spoke them aloud. Their words came in passing, almost casual, but each one carried weight.

Professor Weasley was the first to break her usual sternness. After seeing Richard help a student who was lost, she stopped him before he could get going.

"You've settled in well, Mr. Magus," she said with a rare, approving nod. "Most students take a year to find their footing. You seem to have skipped that part."

Richard only smiled faintly. "Thank you, Professor Weasley. I just feel like this place has become a second home."

Weasley's lips quirked, just slightly. "Keep it that way then, Mr. Magus."

Professor Dumbledore was subtler. After another Transfiguration lesson that showcased Richard's talent and dedication, he paused by Richard's desk.

"You are very talented," he said quietly, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. "You've got so much potential, Mr. Magus. I look forward to what you show in the future."

Richard met his gaze evenly. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, I couldn't have done it without a teacher like you."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled faintly, though there was a shadow behind the light. "Well, thank you for the compliment," he said in reply.

Professor Slughorn was never one for subtlety. After a fourth perfectly brewed potion in a row, he all but beamed as he patted Richard on the back.

"My boy, you've outdone yourself again! You know, I see an invitation to one of my Christmas parties in your future. You'd fit in perfectly, yes, yes…"

Richard offered a polite smile. "Thank you, Professor, I'd be glad to join you."

Slughorn chuckled, delighted, already mentally adding Richard to his list.

Outside the classroom, Hogwarts pulsed with the last rush of the year. The final Quidditch matches turned the grounds into roaring arenas, students shouting themselves hoarse as house banners whipped in the wind.

The Quidditch season that year unfolded like a series of battles, each match building the tension between the houses. Even though Richard never joined the team, he observed every game from the stands. He was never really interested in the Wizard sport, but he wouldn't be opposed to joining in. His quiet analyses of each match quickly became something the Slytherin players valued; Arjun often sat beside him, soaking in his observations and passing them on to the team.

The first match of the season, Slytherin versus Hufflepuff, set the tone. The air was crisp, the sky clear, and the stands alive with chants. Hufflepuff fought hard, their Keeper saving shot after shot with admirable tenacity, but Slytherin's Chasers moved with ruthless coordination. The final score, 220 to 60, was a decisive victory. The emerald-and-silver stands erupted in cheers, banners whipping in the wind.

The second match, Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, brought an entirely different energy. The Ravenclaws were quick and clever, their passing strategies intricate, but Gryffindor's Seeker flew like a streak of gold lightning. It was an aggressive game, fouls called more than once, but in the end, Gryffindor snatched the Snitch with a daring dive that drew roars from their side. The victory tilted the early standings in favour of the Lions.

The third match, between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, was a display of precision versus perseverance. Hufflepuff pushed hard, their Beaters landing solid hits, but Ravenclaw's calculated tactics outmanoeuvred them at every turn. The Snitch was caught almost effortlessly, sealing Ravenclaw's win. Their cheers loudly shot through the air.

The fourth game was the most anticipated: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The rivalry burned hot that day, the sky thick with tension as much as clouds. The match was brutal. Gryffindor's Chasers broke through Slytherin's defence again and again, their Seeker hovering like a hawk waiting for the kill. But Slytherin countered with ruthless tactics, their Beaters targeting with precision, their Chasers weaving plays that left the crowd breathless. The score was neck-and-neck until the very end, when the Slytherin Seeker snatched the Snitch a heartbeat before Gryffindor's could. The stands exploded. Gryffindor roared their frustration while Slytherin's cheers rolled like thunder.

The fifth match, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, saw Gryffindor dominate from the start. Their aggressive style overwhelmed the Hufflepuff team, who, despite their best efforts, couldn't break through the relentless offence. Gryffindor's victory was loud and proud, their supporters chanting so hard the echoes followed Richard back to the dungeons that evening.

The sixth and final game, Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, decided the season. The stakes were high; this match would determine the winner of the Quidditch Cup. Slytherin were behind the leading team, Gryffindor, by 180 points, and Ravenclaw were just 260 behind, so this game would decide it all. Ravenclaw played smart, anticipating moves and countering with precision, but Slytherin's tactics had evolved. The match was fierce, with the score climbing steadily on both sides, but in the end, the Slytherin Seeker caught the Snitch in a daring swoop that silenced the Ravenclaw cheers. Green banners erupted across the pitch, the serpent roaring in the wind.

By the end of the season, Slytherin stood undefeated. Their victories were not just wins; they were statements. They won the Quidditch Cup, coming in first place. Ravenclaw came second, Gryffindor came third, and Hufflepuff came fourth.

The Great Hall glimmered beneath an enchanted night sky, the ceiling alive with stars that shone brighter than usual, as if they too waited for the verdict. Candles floated higher, their flames steady, casting a golden glow that mixed with the silver light of the moon filtering through the tall windows. The four hourglasses stood tall at the front, their gemstones catching the light and gleaming like treasure. Each house watched with bated breath, their voices stilled under the weight of anticipation. Even the ghosts had stopped gliding through the walls. Nearby, Headless Nick hovered silently above the Gryffindor table, while the Bloody Baron's pale face was unreadable as he stood at the far end of Slytherin's.

Dippet rose slowly from his seat, and the murmurs cut off as if a spell had silenced the room. His mere presence demanded quiet, his gaze sweeping over the hall with a warmth that carried command.

"Another year has passed at Hogwarts," he began, his voice low but carrying effortlessly to every corner. "One filled with challenges met, lessons learned, and friendships forged. Tonight, we honour the house that has earned the most points, and with it, the House Cup."

"But before that, we must congratulate House Slytherin for winning the Inter-House Quidditch Cup."

Applause erupted throughout the hall, mostly from Slytherin's table; the others were slower in their applause.

"Now to the House Cup."

The tension tightened like a coiled spring. The first announcement dropped into the silence like a stone into still water.

"Coming in fourth place, a house that, although they came in last, has shown remarkable effort, Hufflepuff."

The Hufflepuff table clapped warmly despite their loss, yellow and black scarves flashing as they congratulated one another. Their pride remained unbroken; they celebrated effort over victory, as they had always done.

"Coming in third place, a house that has consistently earned points, Ravenclaw."

Quick, sharp cheers rose from the Ravenclaw table, the sound almost like the flutter of wings. Their blue-and-bronze banners fluttered faintly in the enchanted breeze, and some students exchanged smug smiles; third was still respectable.

"And coming in second place, a House that wears their hearts on their sleeves, Gryffindor."

The Gryffindor table erupted in a roar that nearly shook the hall, a defiant cheer that said they were proud regardless. Red and gold streamed high in the air as students pounded the tables, chanting loudly even in defeat.

Then came the pause. A long, deliberate pause, heavy with electricity. Every eye turned toward the emerald hourglass.

"And first place," Dippet said, and his eyes glinted knowingly as they passed over the Slytherin table, "a House that has upheld its values with meticulous precision with 482 points… Slytherin!"

The hall exploded. The Slytherin hourglass blazed, emerald light spilling from the gemstones as they tumbled down in a glittering rush. Green and silver banners burst into existence above, a massive serpent unfurling across the enchanted ceiling, coiling majestically through the air as though alive. The Slytherin table erupted with unrestrained triumph, cheers, shouts, and fists pounding the table in perfect rhythm.

Colin nearly knocked his goblet to the floor in his excitement, clapping Richard hard on the back, laughing so loud he almost drowned out the rest of the hall. Elliot grinned widely, pride shining in his usually quiet eyes. Malcolm shouted until his voice cracked, waving a banner someone had thrust into his hands. Even the older Slytherins raised their glasses high, acknowledging both the victory and the role everyone had played in achieving it.

Richard allowed himself a small smile, calm amid the chaos, his hands resting loosely on the table. Across the hall, Orion Black stood tall at the edge of the table, his expression composed. Still, his slight nod toward Richard was unmistakable, an acknowledgement of the points he had earned them throughout the year. 

Abraxas Malfoy, lounging with the air of someone who had expected this outcome all along, smirked knowingly, a hint of challenge curling at the edge of his lips. 

At the Ravenclaw table, Caroline Davis caught Richard's eye across the hall. Her smile was different, warm, quiet, and full of pride meant for him alone.

The feast began with a flourish, golden plates filling themselves with roasted meats, steaming bread, and puddings fragrant with spice. The hall filled with the sounds of victory: chants rolling like thunder, laughter breaking into the air, and the endless clatter of cutlery against plates. Green light shimmered from the enchanted serpent, bathing the hall in Slytherin's colours.

The noise in the Great Hall was overwhelming, cheers rolled like thunder, the green banners draped above shimmered with magic, and the massive serpent coiled through the enchanted ceiling as if alive. Caroline sat among the Ravenclaws, clapping with the rest, but her eyes weren't on the sparkling bronze banners of her own house.

They were on him.

Richard Magus sat calmly at the Slytherin table amid the chaos, his expression unchanged while everyone around him celebrated like mad.

Caroline felt something twist in her chest, admiration, pride, maybe something else she couldn't name. He had helped her when no one else would have, taught her things no book ever could. She thought of the way he had said about Muggle-borns not being any different to pure-bloods. That had stayed with her, pushing her to work harder, to stand straighter.

Around her, Ravenclaws were already talking about next year, about strategies to beat Slytherin. But Caroline barely heard them. She just watched Richard, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

When he leaned back slightly and his eyes swept across the hall, they met hers, just for a moment. But it was enough.

She smiled, not shyly, not cautiously this time, but with quiet pride.

He gave a slight nod in return before looking away, already somewhere else in his mind.

Richard leaned back slightly, letting the celebration wash over him. He felt the energy, the triumph, the roar of his house, yet his thoughts were elsewhere, just beyond the reach of the noise. The serpent overhead glided through the candlelight, an emblem of what they were and what they would become.

The House Cup was theirs. This year was won.

But for Richard Magus, the House Cup had little actual significance. It was just a children's tournament, but it still held value.

And next year, he would cash in that value.

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