Hogwarts Raven (Harry Potter)

First came the time loop.

Then followed several days of exhilarating mischief where Ian did whatever he wanted.

Ian relished the return to a quieter pace at Hogwarts, even though it was still the Christmas holidays. He swiftly resumed his daily routine of spellwork and study.

The atmosphere around the castle was unusually quiet; even the usual rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had momentarily cooled. Holidays, after all, brought a certain cheer that allowed old grudges to be temporarily set aside.

Though there was the ever-irritating pile of holiday homework looming over them, young witches and wizards always found inventive ways to dodge its clutches. Take the Gryffindors, for example; many of them simply chose to forget it existed.

Some shamelessly copied off friends the night before term resumed; others had made grand plans to be punished collectively, as if it were a badge of house pride.

Anyone caught secretly doing their homework was deemed a coward.

Gryffindors were, without doubt, the bane of the professors' existence.

In contrast, the rest of the houses were far more orderly. Ian, for instance, had already arranged for someone to take care of his assignments before the break even began. William had nobly taken on nearly all of Ian's coursework for the term.

He even replicated Ian's handwriting with such uncanny precision that no one could tell the difference. He'd gone as far as to intentionally add a few mistakes and alternative spell solutions in his own submissions to avoid raising suspicion.

No professor ever suspected a thing. And really, if William wasn't destined for a future in Magical Records or Enchanted Document Crafting, then who was? That sort of cunning was perfect for helping the boss prepare official scrolls and mass communication.

Still, not everyone was fortunate enough to have a roommate like Ian. So other students found different ways to manage the workload. The Slytherins, for instance, delighted in paying Ravenclaw students handsomely to do their assignments, and the Ravenclaws rarely turned down the opportunity.

After all, what better way to solidify one's knowledge and earn a pouch of Galleons? Most Ravenclaws had already finished their homework on the first day of the break. Professors never worried about Ravenclaws; everyone knew they were the most academically competitive lot in the castle.

But this Christmas, it was undoubtedly the Hufflepuffs who topped the charts for sheer industriousness. They'd taken on so much outsourced work that their common room practically became a scribbling sanctuary of ink and parchment.

You see, once the Ravenclaws had their fill, or simply didn't fancy the work, they'd pass on the tasks to the Hufflepuffs at a markdown. The humble badgers, ever reliable, took them all.

Many might not realise it, but quite a number of the wizarding world's brightest entrepreneurs came from Ravenclaw. Like Ian, they had the minds of savvy businessmen.

After all, they took a hefty commission as the middlemen, doing none of the work themselves.

And they didn't need to worry about the professors spotting duplicated parchments either. The Hufflepuffs were too earnest to turn in copied answers. No, they insisted on crafting entirely new solutions; anything less, and they'd feel guilty accepting the few Sickles they earned.

"Yes," Ian mused to himself, "Perhaps that's why Hufflepuff alumni, though sometimes overlooked, rarely turn out mediocre. Even if they end up running a modest bookshop, they do it with unflinching dedication."

"And let's not forget, Hufflepuff has produced more than its fair share of brilliant witches and wizards."

The thought left Ian rather moved.

He'd initially wanted to join the holiday homework racket, but after observing the Hufflepuffs' serious work ethic and the meagre rewards that would make even the goblins at Gringotts weep, he gave up on the idea. Taking on dozens of students' assignments simply didn't compare to the effort it had taken him to invent the Auto-Scribing Quill.

"I even enchanted it properly... I ought to slap a 'Slytherin Exclusive' sticker on it and sell it for a fortune," He muttered, setting aside the invention that had once again hit a snag and turning his attention back to holiday leisure.

Sleeping until the sun nudged him awake was the very height of comfort.

Apart from sneaking into the Restricted Section after hours to read, he hadn't done anything particularly mischievous this break, or at least nothing that bent the rules too far.

That may have been due, in part, to Professor McGonagall keeping a rather hawkish watch on him. Ian had a sneaking suspicion she, too, had dreamt about the bizarre loops and knew precisely how reckless he'd been during them.

Even the guardian statues scattered across Hogwarts had been discreetly tucked away by the Deputy Headmistress, no doubt because, in one particular loop, Ian had teamed up with Peeves to stage a "defence drill" for the students that spiralled into absolute mayhem.

"Hide the wee ones, I've still got the four big ones!" Ian grinned to himself. No matter how hard Professor McGonagall tried to contain him, she'd never guess he still had control of the enchanted likenesses of the four founders in terms of large status.

Still, he figured the younger students' shared memories didn't warrant another round of chaos. Besides, he was starting to crave a reputation. The younger years already referred to him in hushed tones as the "Small Dark Lord." Had he known that Slytherin House would take that moniker seriously, he might've thought twice before causing such havoc during the loops.

"Professor... Do you think our dreams are real prophecies?"

"Someone claimed Ian tampered with our memories; that must mean it's something that's already happened."

"That blasted dark prince… Even the stars are warning us to be wary of him. I reckon our dreams are a message from above, a proper nudge from fate itself."

…

It wasn't difficult to guess that the last remark came from a Slytherin student. Even though they were thoroughly intimidated by Ian, it didn't stop them from whispering about him behind closed doors.

Rumor had it there was a "Prince Resistance Alliance" within Slytherin House, made up of young witches and wizards of all ages who'd fallen victim to Ian's various escapades.

Curious after catching wind of this, Ian asked Aurora about it, only to discover that a certain Daphne Greengrass had somehow become the group's unofficial leader.

Apparently, most of the alliance believed she'd borne the brunt of Ian's "oppression" and thus had the most right to lead. What Ian found mildly disappointing, though, was that Daphne herself had never actually badmouthed him in the alliance; she hardly spoke about him at all.

"That's a remarkably shrewd strategy."

Aurora's perspective on it left Ian frowning in confusion.

"Is that shrewd? Shouldn't it mean I'm just exceptionally forgiving for not holding a grudge against her?" Ian muttered, suspecting that Daphne might still harbour a touch of rebellious defiance.

But Aurora had quite the opposite take on this whole situation.

"She only joined that little group to siphon off the participation fees. Daphne and her best friend are dead broke at the moment, they're conning the alliance with leftover pastries from the kitchen elves."

Aurora laid out the full picture while Ian casually nicked some of the rare treats from her plate. The German girl didn't appear to mind.

(To Be Continued…)

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