"Adrian, your flying's incredible—you actually pulled off a Wronski Feint! But why didn't they let you try out as Seeker? You spotted the Snitch faster than Cho Chang! Is it just because she's… pretty?" Michael Corner, a fellow first-year Ravenclaw, had clearly been observing Adrian's training closely. His voice faltered toward the end, his envy giving way to a sheepish grin. "Though… she is really beautiful."
"Honestly, we don't need that kind of risky move for school matches. The Transylvanian Tackle is much more practical," Adrian replied calmly, not sounding disappointed. Between sky-high dives and blind-seeking, he actually preferred the raw strategy of chasing, dodging Bludgers, and driving the Quaffle through goal hoops.
The Wronski Feint, named after the famous Polish Seeker Josef Wronski, was an advanced Quidditch tactic where a Seeker would fake a sighting of the Golden Snitch and plummet toward the ground, hoping to trick the opposing Seeker into following and crashing. Viewed through Omnioculars, it was often flagged as a "classified dangerous feint." While flashy, it was only really effective at the professional level. For the average Hogwarts match, few student Seekers had the nerve—or skill—to follow such a dive and pull up in time.
"Adrian, were you flying a Nimbus 2001 in practice?" Edward Clearwater asked from across the pitch as he approached. His tone was curious but slightly anxious. Unlike Michael, who was Muggle-born, Edward came from a half-blood family and had at least grown up hearing about Quidditch. He knew that gear could mean everything in a match.
"Definitely not. Professor Flitwick actually offered to sponsor me a Nimbus 2000, in private," Adrian said with a small chuckle. "But I turned him down. No secrets stay secret for long at Hogwarts—someone would find out. Besides, I've got Neptune."
"Neptune?" Michael echoed in awe. "Isn't that still a prototype broom?"
Adrian noticed Edward raise an eyebrow at the mention and decided to reassure them. "Don't worry, I didn't steal it from a Department of Magical Games prototype lab or anything. I just got lucky. Didn't you read the Daily Prophet before term started? They wrote a whole article about it when I was featured."
Seeing their curious stares, Adrian quickly summarized the story of how he'd acquired Neptune, the experimental broom rumored to rival the Thunderbolt Series in early speed tests. Edward was visibly impressed.
"This could be our year," Michael said, growing more animated. "With you on the team, and Ravenclaw already way ahead on points, we could finally break Slytherin's hold on the House Cup! They've won it what, six years straight now?"
Adrian didn't share the same optimism, but he smiled nonetheless. Inwardly, he was calculating. His academic scores were already racking up steady House points, but he remembered how, in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Dumbledore had famously handed out last-minute points to Gryffindor for bravery—changing the final results of the House Cup. Unless Ravenclaw could lead by a margin even the Headmaster would feel guilty cheating past, Adrian feared all his efforts might still fall short.
As someone who craved mastery in everything, Adrian couldn't help but care deeply about the Cup. Slytherin had reigned long enough. And with the advantages he had—access to advanced magical theory, wandless spell potential, high-end equipment—it would feel like a personal failure if he didn't at least try to win the Cup for Ravenclaw. Besides, the prestige could help his career prospects post-graduation, especially when paired with O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. distinctions. It was all part of the long game.
He also couldn't ignore the irony of how the House Cup had played out before: Dumbledore, as headmaster, had banned students from entering restricted zones, yet had later awarded Gryffindor extra points for breaking those exact rules. Meanwhile, law-abiding Houses like Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff suffered for their compliance. Even Professor McGonagall—who preached fairness and discipline—hadn't objected.
Adrian shrugged it off for now. Talking and laughing with his dormmates, he entered the Charms classroom with a focused calm.
"Susanna said we're learning the Suspension Charm today," Edward whispered. "Her toad died yesterday and she was so down that Professor Flitwick let her visit his office. Apparently, he conjured a bunch of levitating pastries to cheer her up. She even got a hint about today's lesson."
Adrian smiled. A spell that could suspend objects—or people—midair? Now that was practical.
"If you're feeling down, Professor Flitwick always knows how to cheer you up," Adrian Blackwood said dryly. "Remember when he caught you copying my homework and Professor McGonagall gave you a lecture?" He smirked, nudging Edward playfully. "Flitwick offered me one of those cakes from his drawer after a long tutoring session. I don't know how long they'd been enchanted in there, but I swear they tasted better than anything from the Hogwarts kitchens."
Professor Filius Flitwick, a master of Charms, was known throughout Ravenclaw for his encyclopedic magical knowledge, kind-hearted demeanor, and deep sense of fairness. Though diminutive in stature, he was once a champion duelist in his youth. A few bitter Slytherins liked to imply that the reason Flitwick avoided confrontation was because he made a hard target as Ravenclaw's Head of House—but whenever that remark surfaced, Ravenclaws swiftly put the offenders in their place.
As Susanna had hinted earlier, Professor Flitwick began the class by cheerfully announcing that it was time to begin learning one of the most iconic spells in all of Hogwarts: the Levitation Charm, Wingardium Leviosa. He stood on his usual pile of spellbooks to be seen over the desks and delivered a detailed explanation of the precise wand movement—a swish and a flick—and the proper pronunciation.
"Focus on pronunciation and wand technique. Magic responds to intention, clarity, and confidence!" he reminded them as he divided the classroom into paired groups for hands-on practice.
With a casual wave of his wand, dozens of snowy white feathers soared gently through the air, each drifting down to land at a different desk. The class buzzed with excitement—but the spell, deceptively simple, proved to be more elusive than it looked.
Adrian, however, had practiced this charm in advance using the Room of Requirement. For him, levitating a feather felt as easy as breathing.
He drew his wand with quiet confidence, pointed it toward the feather, and said clearly, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The feather rose immediately, lifting gracefully over their heads, floating exactly four feet above their desks.
"Oh, splendid work, Mr. Blackwood!" Professor Flitwick called with delight. "Although for someone who once levitated Miss Lisa Dupin clean off the moving staircase, I suppose a feather offers little challenge."
At that moment, someone whispered something in Lisa's group. Her face turned a vivid red.
"Adrian, help me out!" Edward groaned, glaring at his feather. "It won't even twitch. Back in the Muggle world, I was top of my class. Here? Nothing works."
Adrian released his charm, and the feather floated gently back to the desk.
"You've got to get the movement right. Swish and flick, and say Wingardium Leviosa — with a long, clear 'gar' and 'sa'. Don't rush it. Let your wrist move naturally; tension ruins the motion." He demonstrated slowly, exaggerating the graceful flick of his wand.
Edward mimicked him a few times—and on the fourth try, his feather rose shakily into the air. His eyes widened in amazement.
"Excellent teaching, Mr. Blackwood!" Professor Flitwick beamed. "The charm itself may not earn House points, but your assistance did. Five points to Ravenclaw for helping a classmate."
Edward gawked. "But I was the one who finally cast it! Why are you getting the credit?" he said in mock outrage. "Professor, I feel very overlooked!"
"Now, now," Flitwick chuckled. "Let's not forget what we've practiced—focus on those wrist movements! Swish and flick!" He raised his voice theatrically, mimicking a perfect flourish. "And don't forget your pronunciation! Remember poor Baruffio, who mispronounced f as s and ended up flat on the floor with a buffalo on his chest!"
Laughter rippled through the room. The lesson progressed, and before long, the bright Ravenclaws—true to their house's reputation—were collectively getting the hang of the charm. Feather after feather floated gently upward, and Flitwick's smile grew wider with every successful attempt.
By the end of the class, so many students had succeeded in levitating their feathers that Professor Flitwick declared that there would be no written homework—just continued spell practice. The students couldn't believe their luck; with essays piling up in other classes, this reprieve felt like a gift.
When class ended, they quickly descended the marble staircase toward the Great Hall, stomachs growling after a long afternoon. The scent of roasted pumpkin and cinnamon filled the corridors, whetting their appetites.
As they entered the Great Hall, gasps of delight escaped their lips.
The hall had been transformed into a Halloween spectacle—thousands of fluttering black bats swirled around the high ceiling, darting past floating jack-o'-lanterns that flickered with enchanted flames. A second swarm of bats swooped low over the tables, causing candlelight to shimmer and dance. Plates gleamed golden as heaping portions of roast, pies, and puddings materialized across the tables. The whole place looked like a dream.
Adrian and Edward grabbed seats and eagerly tucked into savory beef pies, still steaming hot.
"So. Good," Edward mumbled between mouthfuls, eyes scanning the decorations. "Only Hogwarts could make Halloween feel like something out of a fairy tale… or a haunted one."
Adrian nodded in agreement, eyes drawn upward to the candlelit pumpkins bobbing near the enchanted ceiling. For now, everything—lessons, spells, Quidditch, even points—could wait. Tonight, they feasted like kings.