The castle shifted. You could feel it.

  Not in the stones. Not in the staircases. But in the students. The collective hum of tension. Eyes darted across textbooks like they could eat answers. Whispers about “Did you revise everything?” or “What if it’s the Switching Spell again?” haunted hallways like poltergeists. Even Peeves kept his mischief to whispers and eerie giggles from the rafters.

  Exams had begun.

  And today was the twin crucible: Charms and Transfiguration.

  Practical Exam: Charms – Professor Flitwick’s ArenaThe Charms cssroom had been rearranged into a small obstacle field. Tables, levitating hoops, and floating targets. At the front, a rge board listed the spells we were being tested on:

  Lumos / Nox – Wandlight control.

  Wingardium Leviosa – Object levitation and manipution.

  Aparecium – Revealing hidden texts.

  Incendio – Basic fire conjuration.

  Finite Incantatem – Spell-canceltion.

  Professor Flitwick, all of three feet and boundless enthusiasm, beamed as we entered. “Let’s see what you’ve learned, my bright sparks!”

  “Desmond Yarrow,” he called.

  Desmond, always a bit too self-conscious, walked up stiffly. His robes were wrinkled like he’d been pacing all night. He pointed at a parchment and cast, “Aparecium!”

  The script glowed. Perfect. Then, “Incendio!”

  A tiny fireball sputtered from his wand... and singed his sleeve.

  Flitwick cpped anyway. “Controlled burn! Not bad, not bad!”

  “Nathaniel Whitcross.”

  Nathaniel walked up with the grim calm of a knight entering a battlefield. He was methodical. Each spell—precise. His levitation was a bit sluggish, but his Finite Incantatem cleanly dispersed a floating charm gone haywire from a student before him.

  “Impressive reactionary thinking!” Flitwick chirped.

  Nathaniel gave a tight nod, already calcuting where he’d lost points.

  Then came Jake Dawson.

  He marched up like he was about to perform at a concert. With a dramatic flick, he shouted, “LUMOS!”

  Nothing.

  Jake blinked. “Er—LUMOS!”

  His wand burst into light so blinding half the room winced.

  “Okay, okay—NOX!”

  The wand refused.

  “NOX, I SAID!”

  It finally extinguished, leaving the room in awkward silence.

  “...Got fir,” Flitwick said gently. “Needs timing.”

  Jake grinned and walked off like he’d just won a trophy.

  Then came Evie Lockhart.

  She strode forward with smooth, practiced elegance. Her wand movements—graceful. Wingardium Leviosa? She floated the test rock through all hoops without a nudge. Aparecium? Revealed a hidden riddle on the parchment and solved it aloud.

  Even Flitwick leaned forward. “Outstanding control. Charms come naturally to you, Miss Lockhart.”

  Jake whispered behind me, “She’s going to marry me.”

  I stared ahead. “If she doesn’t hex you first.”

  “Caelum Rosier.”

  I walked forward in silence, wand at my side, eyes low—not from shame. Focus.

  I stood before the test items. Floating stones. Scrolls. Targets.

  My eyes… shifted.The moment I blinked, they awakened—not the full crimson bloom of war, but a subtle flicker, faint and buried beneath my usual gaze.

  They didn’t call it chakra here. But I could feel it: that same sense. The pulse of energy. Of will. Of structure.

  To cast a spell… was to understand it.

  “Wingardium Leviosa,” I whispered.

  I watched the tendrils of magic snake from wand tip, wrapping the rock with faint, silver threads of controlled force. Not just movement—intent. With a finger's tilt, I could navigate its course with perfect sharpness.

  “Aparecium.”

  I saw the ink before the words appeared.

  “Incendio.” A controlled fme, no wider than a candle, flickered up—blue at the base. No fre. No noise.

  “Finite Incantatem.”

  And all was still.

  Flitwick was staring at me.

  His usual bubbly demeanor had shifted into something else—curiosity, yes. But underneath it, that faint spark of watchfulness.

  “Excellent precision, Mr. Rosier,” he said slowly. “As if you’ve cast these spells a hundred times.”

  I met his eyes. “I prefer to learn thoroughly.”

  “Indeed,” he murmured. “That you do.”

  As I stepped back, I saw Professor McGonagall in the doorway.

  Watching.

  Transfiguration Trial – McGonagall’s DomainThe cssroom was austere. Quiet. There were desks spaced evenly apart. On each one: a matchstick. And on the board, in bold script:

  Objective: Transform your matchstick into a needle. Bonus marks for material crity and structural fidelity.

  McGonagall paced slowly between rows, her robes whispering with silent judgment.

  Desmond muttered a charm, and his matchstick warped—into something halfway between a spoon and an angry fishhook.

  Nathaniel nailed the form but left the tip dull.

  Jake… transfigured his matchstick into a shiny toothpick.

  “I could stab someone with it, technically,” he offered.

  Evie’s needle gleamed like silver. “Miss Lockhart,” McGonagall said, “consistent as ever.”

  When I sat down, I didn’t even blink.

  I just looked.

  The matchstick blurred slightly—then I flicked my wand, softly, almost zily. I whispered the word, but my mind had already seen the shape it must become. The intent behind form. The shift in reality.

  The matchstick dissolved in structure, atom by atom. It wanted to be something more.

  It reformed in seconds.

  Perfect. Surgical. A precise, glinting needle with mirrored edges.

  McGonagall leaned down beside me. “Mr. Rosier.”

  “Yes, Professor?”

  She studied my face with something colder than suspicion, warmer than fear. “How long have you been able to see magic?”

  I paused. “I see what’s necessary.”

  Her lips twitched. “Careful with riddles. Hogwarts has a few of its own.”

  Announcement in the Great HallAfter dinner, Headmaster Dumbldore stood at the front table. Professor Flitwick and Slughorn at her side. She raised her hand.

  “Students of first year, you have completed the first half of your final evaluations. Well done.”

  A collective groan and scattered appuse followed.

  Dumbldore continued, “Your written exams in Magical Theory, Potions, Herbology, and Magical Creatures will begin next week. Study sessions are encouraged. Duels in the corridors, are not.”

  “Oops,” whispered Jake.

  Aurelia leaned over to me. “Do you think you aced both?”

  “No such thing as perfection,” I said quietly.

  She smirked. “Only you would say that after conjuring a surgical needle in six seconds.”

  As the night deepened, the fires dimmed and the castle breathed gently in the dark.

  Something moved in me—not dread. Not yet.

  But something deeper.

  The exams were merely the beginning.

  And something was watching me.

  Even through the stone.

  Even through the calm.

  My eyes burned slightly behind my lids when I closed them.

  And I could still see the fire.

  [End of Chapter 24]