HP: The Boy who saw Magic

The air on the eighth floor seemed thicker than on the other floors, carrying a scent of old spices that wafted from a nearby classroom. When Kevin stepped onto the last spiral staircase, his gray-blue eyes immediately caught sight of the open classroom. Countless golden instruments hung from the ceiling: sun and moon dials, astrolabes, and various peculiarly shaped divination tools swayed slightly in the dim light, casting shifting patterns on the walls.

"Is this the Divination classroom?" Wesley lowered his voice, his reddish-brown curly hair gleaming coppery in the light filtering through the stained-glass windows. "It looks like… uh… my grandma's attic, with lots of old things in it."

Fabian pushed his glasses up, a curious look on his bronze face. "The book says that divination is the least accurate subject in magic."

"My uncle said that the Divination classes at Hogwarts are all scams," Ernesto crossed his arms, his grey eyes full of suspicion, "but it is said that the centaurs can really tell the stars."

Kevin did not respond immediately, but subtly expanded the power of the Eye of Truth. In his field of vision, the entire eighth floor was filled with a special kind of magical fluctuation—not the clear structure of a spell, but an erratic energy like mist. This was completely different from the condensed magic he had felt in the underground Potions classroom before.

"Professor Trelawney is not here," Kevin looked around and saw only a few shelves full of crystal balls and a small round table. "Maybe… she is resting in her office."

In fact, he guessed that the professor was probably hiding in a corner sipping sherry. According to the original book, Sybil Trelawney only showed her talent when she was actually predicting something, and the rest of the time she was mostly immersed in her own tragic prophecies. But Kevin couldn't help but wonder, what would she see if she triggered her predictive ability now?

"I heard she made a real prophecy," Fabian whispered, "about… you know… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Someone whose name cannot be mentioned? Who is that?" Wesley asked curiously.

Ernesto's expression suddenly became serious. "It was the Dark Lord. My father mentioned that when the Dark Lord was at the height of his power, there was a prophecy… that was why he died at the hands of that baby Harry Potter."

"Who is Harry Potter? Is he famous?" Wesley was confused by the sudden unfamiliar name.

"He is the hero of the wizarding world and defeated the evil Dark Lord!" Ernesto explained to Wesley with light in his eyes.

Kevin's fingers unconsciously stroked his wand. He knew the entire content of the prophecy—about Harry and Voldemort, about the fate of "must die at each other's hands." And now, the prophecy has existed for ten years, and Harry Potter will enter school next year…

"Let's go," Kevin said finally, "It looks like we won't be seeing Professor Trelawney today."

After leaving the Divination classroom, they continued to explore along the corridor on the eighth floor. The portraits here were older than those on other floors, and some of the characters in the paintings had been sleeping for many years and did not respond to the students passing by.

Turning a corner, they suddenly came to a familiar area—the Fat Lady's Corridor. The portrait of the Fat Lady in a pink silk dress was humming a little tune and raised an eyebrow when she saw them.

"Are you Ravenclaw kids lost?" she asked cheerfully. "The password is 'Dragon's Blood,' but it won't work for you!"

Wesley grinned. "We were just exploring the castle, ma'am. I heard the Gryffindor common room is behind your portrait?"

"Smart little fellow!" said the Fat Lady admiringly. "But you are not Gryffindor students, so don't even think about setting foot in there." She added sternly, but with a hint of mockery in her eyes.

Kevin smiled and nodded, but his eyes were drawn to the scene on the other side of the corridor, where a huge tapestry was hung, depicting several trolls beating a stupid wizard named Barnabas with sticks.

"The troll beats Barnabas with a stick…" Kevin muttered, his heartbeat slightly faster. He knew that behind the blank wall opposite the tapestry was the most magical room in Hogwarts—the Room of Requirement.

"What?" Fabian followed his gaze. "Oh, the tapestry. An odd subject, isn't it?"

"I suppose Barnabas did something particularly stupid," Wesley commented, "like trying to comb the troll's hair?"

Ernesto snorted. "More like trying to teach a troll ballet."

Kevin didn't join in the joke, but carefully observed the blank wall opposite the tapestry. Under his True Eyes, that area seemed to be more… active than the other walls? The flow of magic showed a strange ripple, as if responding to the needs of the observer. But now is not the time to try; I will come back when I have a chance.

"We should go eat," Kevin said finally, "We've done exploring the castle."

The four boys turned and walked downstairs. Kevin silently memorized the location and resolved to try it again when needed.

When they reached the stairs, a familiar voice called out to them: "Mr. Hawthorne! Mr. Cruz! And Mr. Griffith and Mr. Bryan! So nice to meet you!"

Professor Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw, jumped out from behind the door of the headmaster's office. There was some ink on his pointed hat, and it was obvious that he had just come back from work.

"Good afternoon, professor!" the four of them greeted in unison.

Professor Flitwick's eyes lingered on Kevin for a moment, flashing with admiration: "I've heard from Professor McGonagall about your performance in Transfiguration class, Mr. Hawthorne!"

Ernesto straightened his back, because the professor immediately said: "And you, Mr. Griffith, you deserve praise for defending your classmates. Ten points to Ravenclaw for you!"

"Thank you, Professor." There was a hint of genuine humility in Ernesto's voice that Kevin had never heard before.

"Are you going to the Great Hall? I'm going there too," said Professor Flitwick cheerfully. "Come along so we can chat. Mr. Hawthorne, I'd particularly like to know about your progress in Charms."

"Of course, Professor, and you can just call me Kevin," Kevin responded.

The other three also asked Professor Flitwick to change his address.

On the way to the Great Hall, Professor Flitwick hopped forward like a happy little bird, turning back from time to time to talk to Kevin and the others. Kevin cautiously shared the fact that he had mastered all the spells for the first year, and expressed his interest in more advanced spells.

"Great!" Professor Flitwick clapped his hands and almost jumped up. "I knew you had extraordinary talent! You know, when I learned that you also performed exceptionally well in Transfiguration, I knew that Ravenclaw had welcomed a true magical genius, a genius like Albus."

Kevin quickly responded modestly, "Thank you for the compliment, but I am far from being able to compare with the principal."

"Kevin, I already know what happened between you and those Slytherin students in Transfiguration class."

"Remember, Kevin! Bloodline has never been a factor in determining a wizard's ability," Professor Flitwick suddenly became serious, his voice lower than usual, "Look at me, a goblin half-blood wizard, but Hogwarts thinks I'm good enough to teach young wizards. And those pure-blood-first fools…" He shook his head.

Kevin felt a warm sensation. He knew that Professor Flitwick was responding to the provocations of the Slytherin students and was also speaking out against blood discrimination more generally.

"I completely agree, Professor," Kevin said sincerely, "Magic is about knowledge and practice. Talent may be important, but bloodline obviously does not determine the quality of talent."

"Well said!" Professor Flitwick's eyes lit up again. "Speaking of practice… you may need a suitable place. Professor McGonagall told me that you have a talent for Transfiguration, and Charms also requires practice."

Hearing this, Kevin and the other three looked at each other. Apparently, they all thought of the place they had explored before. "In fact, Professor, we found an abandoned classroom on the fifth floor during our exploration. If the school allows, perhaps we can…"

"Convert it into a practice room?" Professor Flitwick continued, rubbing his hands excitedly. "What a great idea! By the way, do you know the Dissipation Charm? How about this, in the Charms class the day after tomorrow, I will change the original Illumination Charm to the Dissipation Charm. Then you can learn the Dissipation Charm while tidying up the space. I will apply to McGonagall for the right to use that classroom for you!"

When they entered the Great Hall, dinner had already begun. The long table was filled with a variety of delicacies, the ceiling reflected the darkening sky outside, and floating candles cast a warm glow.

"Come on, children," Professor Flitwick led them to the Ravenclaw table, "and sit next to me. I have many tricks on Charms I'd like to share with you!"

During the meal, Kevin noticed that Ernesto was much quieter than usual. When Professor Flitwick was temporarily called away by other teachers, Ernesto suddenly whispered: "My father…he always said that half-bloods and Muggle-born wizards are not as powerful as pure-bloods."

Kevin didn't respond immediately, leaving Ernesto to think.

"But Professor Flitwick…he's a duelling champion," Ernesto said slowly, "and you…you're better than any pureblood student your age that I've ever met."

"Magic doesn't care about bloodline," Kevin looked at Ernesto seriously and said, "Just like a wand chooses a wizard, magic itself will choose those who truly understand it."

Fabian smiled and joined in, "My dad is a Muggle dentist. But he can fix people's most painful dental problems with just a few gadgets. Isn't that a kind of magic?"

Wesley added, through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "My uncle can't even change a lightbulb, but he can recite the list of World Cup scorers since 1960. Is that magic?"

Ernesto finally smiled, though he quickly returned to his usual arrogant expression: "Humph, your metaphors are so muggle… but… maybe there is some truth to them."

After Professor Flitwick came back, they discussed more plans for the abandoned classroom. Kevin had already begun to plan how to use this space, not only to practice spells, but also to try some simple alchemy experiments. After all, as a time traveler, he had many ideas that needed a safe place to practice, which were not convenient to perform at home before.

When dinner was over and the four boys returned to Ravenclaw Tower, Kevin felt an unprecedented sense of belonging. The corridors of Hogwarts were no longer just descriptions in books, but a part of his real life; those magical theories were no longer just words, but miracles that he could witness and practice with his own hands.

In front of the blue fire in the common room, Kevin took out his notebook and began to record today's discoveries. The eyes on the eighth floor, the clues in the Room of Requirement, and the encouragement of Professor Flitwick. There is still a year before Harry Potter enters school, and he, Kevin Hawthorne, is preparing for himself—and perhaps one day for the entire wizarding world.

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