Chapter 3: Ravenclaw’s Tower

Hogwarts loomed from the lake as a castle of jagged spires and glowing windows when Evan stepped off the boats in September 1984, eleven and buzzing. The Great Hall dazzled with candles floating and a ceiling a starry sea while the Sorting Hat rasped over his head: "Sharp mind, eager soul, Ravenclaw!" The blue-and-bronze table roared, and he joined Lila and Theo, the train trio, who grinned as they clapped him in. First year was a whirlwind since magic was real, and Evan dove in. He pored over A History of Magic by firelight and traced wizard wars he'd once read as fiction while he practiced Lumos until his wand glowed steady to dazzle Lila in their tower dorm. Lessons awed him with brooms lifting in Flying and potions bubbling in Snape's dank dungeon, so he soaked it up by scribbling notes and asking questions Flitwick answered with glee. Nights in Ravenclaw Tower cemented the trio as Lila charmed snacks to float, Theo debated spell theory, and Evan marveled at it all.

Second year, 1985, tightened their knot. By twelve, they were inseparable as Lila sneaked them into the library's restricted stacks, Theo sketched runes by the common room fire, and Evan traded quips over breakfast. He signed up for Quidditch and craved every slice of magic, so Chaser tryouts were a mess of wobbly dives, but he scored against Hufflepuff with wind whipping his face and the crowd's roar a jolt of pure thrill. Flying was freedom with the broom's hum a song, and he practiced loops over the pitch to dodge Theo's mock jeers. Classes grew sharper as Incendio singed his robes once to earn Snape's sneer, but he thrived with his wand an extension and his mind racing with possibilities he'd once only dreamed in Ohio.

Third year, 1986, brought swagger. At thirteen, Evan mastered Wingardium Leviosa and levitated desks to Lila's delight while he roamed the castle with secret tunnels behind portraits and a ghost-haunted shortcut to Charms. The trio stirred mischief and got caught by Filch sneaking pumpkin pasties from the kitchens, yet they laughed under a tapestry as he huffed off. Evan's wand flowed smoother when Aguamenti doused Theo's singed notes after a spell misfire, and he loved it with the library's dusty stacks, the scent of parchment, and the hum of magic in every stone. Quidditch sharpened too with a near-miss from a Bludger that left him bruised but grinning and the Quaffle a red blur he chased with glee.

Fourth year, 1987, honed his edge. Transfiguration clicked with pins to needles and teacups to mice to earn McGonagall's curt "Adequate," and he took Ancient Runes to decode symbols that sang in his college-trained brain as a puzzle he adored. He spotted patterns like Flitwick's Charm quirks and Snape's potion traps, then predicted lessons to earn "the Oracle" from Lila and Theo over a shared treacle tart. Quidditch stayed wild as he dodged rain-soaked Bludgers and scored against Slytherin while thunder rolled, and a twisted ankle once benched him, but he limped back with determination. Nights blurred with study while the trio sprawled by the fire with ink staining their fingers.

Fifth year, 1988, was O.W.L.s, a relentless grind. Evan aced Transfiguration with mice scampering perfectly, Runes, and Arithmancy as numbers bent like old calculus friends. Potions faltered when his Draught of Peace turned sludge to earn Snape's lip curl, but he scraped an Exceeds Expectations. Quidditch vented the strain as he looped the pitch with the Quaffle tucked tight and the Snitch a gleam he left to Seekers. Study sessions stretched late while the trio sat bleary-eyed over books and passed coffee mugs charmed warm by Lila. He emerged with Outstandings as a quiet pride settled and his wand a trusted partner after years of grip.

Sixth year, 1989, was N.E.W.T.s prep, a marathon of focus at fifteen. Evan refined spells like Protego shields solid as rock and Patronus misting silver, a stag, to Theo's awe, then balanced Quidditch with dives tighter and scores crisp against Gryffindor. Runes etched with precision and Arithmancy danced with logic, so he skipped basics since his college mind yawned at them and chased magic's why instead. Professors saw it as Flitwick beamed and McGonagall's "Well done" became a rare gem, but Evan stayed low and was happiest in Ravenclaw's hush while the trio debated theory over chess. Summers dragged at St. Agnes' with damp walls, stale air, and the radio's drone, but he counted days to September when Apparition lessons from a sixth-year tutor let him pop to Hogsmeade once, dizzy but triumphant.

July 1990 rolled in, humid and heavy at sixteen. Evan Flooed to Diagon Alley from St. Agnes' fireplace, a skill he'd honed, to grab seventh-year gear. His trunk brimmed with robes, books, and Galleons from chores like polishing trophies and stacking shelves. The alley buzzed with witches bartering bat wings, kids ogling brooms, and air thick with potion steam, so he moved with purpose and a list in hand: dragon scales, lacewing flies, ink. Hogwarts was his pulse after six years of growth, friends, and flight, and he'd wring every drop from his last.