Chapter 40: Homecoming

After a full year at Hogwarts, the quiet stillness of Ravenclaw Manor felt both comforting and strange.

The familiar scent of aged parchment and polished wood greeted Nero as his eyes adjusted to the dim, warm glow of enchanted chandeliers.

Banners bearing the Ravenclaw crest hung from the high walls, and the soft hum of protective wards filled the air like a comforting melody.

Witty tugged him toward an armchair near the grand fireplace. "Master Nero will sit! Witty has prepared tea and snacks!"

Before Nero could protest, a tray appeared on the low table, laden with steaming tea, scones, and a selection of jams. He gave in, sinking into the chair with a sigh.

"It's good to be home," he admitted, taking a sip of the fragrant tea.

Witty perched on the edge of a nearby ottoman, his large eyes fixed on Nero.

"Master Nero is different. Witty can feel it. Stronger, but..." The house-elf tilted his head. "Tired, maybe?"

"A lot's happened this year," Nero said, setting the cup down. "I've learned so much, but I still feel like I'm just getting started."

Witty nodded sagely. "Master Nero always pushes himself too hard. But Witty is proud. Master has grown into a true Ravenclaw."

Nero smiled. "Thanks, Witty."

The warmth of the fire crackled in the silence that followed.

Yet, despite the comfort, an odd weight settled in Nero's chest.

His gaze drifted toward the grand staircase leading to the upper floors, the rooms that had once belonged to his ancestors. He hesitated before standing, drawn by an old longing he rarely indulged.

He ascended the steps, his fingers tracing the smooth banister, and soon found himself before a grand set of double doors. With a deep breath, he pushed them open.

The room was just as he remembered.

His grandmother's study.

Stacks of books, alchemical equipment, and delicate artifacts lined the shelves.

The scent of old ink and lavender still lingered in the air, untouched by time.

A portrait of Melina Ravenclaw sat above the fireplace, her kind yet sharp eyes watching over the room. The woman who had sacrificed her life to protect him.

Nero stepped forward, his hands clenching at his sides. He had always felt her presence here, not in a ghostly way, but as a constant reminder of what had been lost.

"I made it through my first year, Grandmother," he said softly. "I'm growing stronger. But it's not enough. Not yet."

He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. He had spent his first year laying the foundation, sharpening his skills, pushing himself beyond limits, yet the road ahead was long.

His past life's knowledge had given him an edge, but if he wanted to reach the true apex of magic, he needed more.

More knowledge. More experience. More power.

He strode toward the center of the room. 

With a simple thought, several books lifted from the shelves, floating in the air. Wandless magic. A year ago, it had required far more focus, now, the weight of objects barely registered. With a flick of his wrist, the books began shifting positions, weaving around each other in controlled patterns. The movements were smooth, precise.

Taking a steady breath, Nero called upon his barrier magic.

Instantly, shimmering walls of force sprang into existence around him, interlocking with precision. With another motion, he layered a second, thinner barrier inside the first, a technique he had refined through countless hours of practice.

Then, he reached into his robes and drew his wand, Liss. Holding it in his right hand while still controlling the books with his mind and the barriers with his left hand, he focused. 

A flicker of magic ignited from his wand's tip. Glacius. He fired an ice spell at the barrier at point-blank range. The moment the frost touched the outer wall, the barrier's counter-mechanism activated, transforming the ice into steam before it could penetrate.

He reinforced the barrier and unleashed a barrage of cutting curses, their sharp arcs bouncing harmlessly off. Better. Faster. Stronger than before.

His mind could manage 3 different processes at the same time.

Nero took a deep breath, stopping his attacks, dispersing the shields and setting the books down gently.

Nero settled into a cross-legged position on the floor, placing his wand on his lap.

He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, sinking into meditation. The moment he let go of external distractions, he felt it. Magic, pulsing around him, within him. It was stronger now, clearer. A year at Hogwarts had sharpened his awareness of it.

He extended his senses, feeling the wards surrounding Ravenclaw Manor. They were ancient, layered with centuries of protective enchantments. He felt Witty's presence, a unique magical signature warm and steady. He even sensed the lingering traces of spells cast long ago, woven into the fabric of the house.

Finally, he opened his eyes, activating his Raven Eyes. The world shifted, threads of magic revealing themselves in golden hues. He studied the patterns of magic in the room, tracing the protective runes embedded in the walls, the gentle flickers of enchantments that preserved the books, the faint glimmers of residual spells left behind by past generations.

His gaze turned to his own hands. The magic within him wasn't just something he wielded, it was part of him. Stronger, more refined than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

As he deactivated his Raven Eyes, he exhaled, feeling invigorated.

His wandless control had improved. His spellcasting speed had increased.

But beyond that, something else had changed, his very connection to magic itself.

This was only the beginning.

Nero rose to his feet, gripping his wand tightly.

He took one last glance at Melina's portrait. The woman who had given her life for him. The least he could do was make that sacrifice worth it.

"I'll reach it, Grandmother," he whispered. "The peak of magic. No matter what."

With renewed determination, he turned on his heel and left the study.

Tomorrow, Gringotts could wait. Tonight, he would prepare for the future.

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