Chapter 6: The Final Year

The 1991-1992 school year at Hogwarts rolled on like a steady drumbeat for Evan Grayson, now seventeen and in his seventh year. The castle hummed with its usual rhythm as staircases shifted, portraits chattered, and the Great Hall filled with the clatter of plates at every meal. Yet the world outside its walls buzzed with a new, unsteady energy ever since the Wizards' Towers rose in the summer, spilling magic into every corner of the planet. Evan felt it in the air, a faint crackle that lingered even here, though Hogwarts held firm as a bubble of order. His charmed Galleon glowed in his pocket, each pulse a sale from the 250 spells he'd dumped into the Towers' global network, turning him into a billionaire before he'd even taken his N.E.W.T.s. Ravenclaw Tower remained his sanctuary, its riddle-guarded door a comfort, and his broom still leaned by his bed, ready for Quidditch matches that kept his blood pumping.

Harry Potter, the scrawny first-year with the lightning scar, popped up in whispers across the school. Evan caught glimpses of him in the corridors, trailing two friends, a redhead and a bushy-haired girl, always tripping into some mess. Stories swirled by Easter about a troll in the dungeons, a three-headed dog guarding something in a locked corridor, and Harry's knack for dodging trouble. Evan smirked over breakfast one morning while Lila Patel flipped through a Daily Prophet chock-full of Tower chaos, muttering, "Kid's got a knack for drama, doesn't he?" Theo Finch, nose deep in a rune book, snorted and added, "He'll either save us all or burn the place down, no in-between." Evan didn't care much either way since Harry's antics were background noise to his own plans, but the kid's name stuck like a burr, a reminder that history was churning even here.

Seventh year was a grind with N.E.W.T.s looming like a storm cloud. Evan aced Transfiguration by turning a desk into a prancing deer, nailed Ancient Runes with a flawless translation of a third-century ward, and breezed through Arithmancy with equations that danced like old college calculus. Potions still nipped at him when his Strengthening Solution turned a sickly green, but he scraped an Exceeds Expectations, good enough to dodge Snape's venom. Quidditch kept him sane as he captained Ravenclaw's team in his final season, weaving through Slytherin's dirty plays to score a tight win in March, rain soaking the pitch and the crowd roaring. Nights blurred with study in the Tower, parchment piling high, Lila charming quills to take notes while Theo debated spell theory until the fire dimmed.

June brought the end. Exams wrapped under a blazing sun, and Evan stood on the Quidditch pitch one last time, broom in hand, tracing the castle's spires against the sky. Graduation hit the Great Hall with cheers, blue and bronze banners fluttering as he shook Flitwick's hand and pocketed his diploma. That night, the trio sprawled by the lake, skipping stones across the glassy water, the weight of seven years settling in. Lila stretched out on the grass, dark braid fanning behind her, and asked, "So, what's next? We're free now, no more riddles to get supper." Theo tossed a pebble and grinned, "Auror work, or whatever they're calling it since the Queen scrapped the Ministry. Government's forming a Magical Enforcement Squad, reckon I'll chase dark wizards for them." Lila nodded and added, "Cursebreaking for me. Gringotts is hiring, and I want to crack ancient wards, see the world." Evan leaned back, Galleon warm in his pocket, and said, "Spellmaking. I'll travel, sell to the Towers, make something new. They've got a tier system now, one to ten, and I'm aiming high."

Lila raised an eyebrow while Theo chuckled, "Tiers? What's that mean?" Evan shrugged and explained, "Towers classify spells by power and complexity. Lumos is Tier 1, basic stuff. Patronus sits around Tier 5, maybe 6. Top tiers are rare, like ancient wards or battle magic, and they pay more. World's wide open now, everyone's got magic, so innovation's gold. Spellmakers will be in demand." Lila whistled low and said, "You'll be richer than you already are, then." Evan grinned but didn't argue since the Galleon's glow told its own story. They sat until dusk, plotting futures under a sky streaked with pink, the castle a silhouette behind them. Hogwarts was done, and the world waited.