Chapter 15: First Classes

The morning after the Sorting Ceremony, Kael woke before his dormmates, the gentle blue light of dawn filtering through the tall windows of Ravenclaw Tower. For a moment, he lay still, relishing the faint scent of parchment and ink that permeated the air—a fragrance distinctly Ravenclaw, he imagined, smiling to himself.

The Sorting Hat's words still echoed in his mind. "Courage of Gryffindor, mind of Ravenclaw, ambition of Slytherin... where to put a Stormbane?" After nearly five minutes of deliberation—making him a true "hatstall"—the Hat had finally settled on Ravenclaw. Kael had no complaints; the house of knowledge and wit seemed a natural fit for his insatiable curiosity.

He rose silently, careful not to disturb the other boys. The dormitory was circular, with five four-poster beds draped in blue and bronze silks arranged around a warming stove in the center. Elegantly arched windows punctuated the walls, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains. Above, the domed ceiling was painted with stars that subtly shifted to mirror the actual night sky.

Kael dressed quickly in his new Ravenclaw robes, admiring how the blue trim complemented his luminescent eyes. The faint lightning-shaped birthmark visible on his forearm seemed to pulse with a subtle energy beneath the sleeve of his robe—a reminder of his lineage.

"Early riser, I see," came a voice from one of the beds. Terry Boot sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Excited for classes?"

"Curious is more like it," Kael replied with an easy smile. "I've been waiting years to see how Hogwarts teaches magic compared to what I've learned at home."

"Must be strange for you," Terry said, climbing out of bed. "Most of us are just excited to learn magic at all, but you've already published books about it."

Kael shrugged, his smile turning self-deprecating. "Books don't teach experience. I'm looking forward to learning from proper masters."

As they made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Kael felt the familiar weight of stares following him. Whispers trailed in his wake—"That's him, the Stormbane boy," "Youngest Order of Merlin ever," "Cured lycanthropy before even coming to Hogwarts"—but he'd grown accustomed to it over the past couple of years.

In the Great Hall, he spotted Hermione at the Gryffindor table and offered her a friendly wave. She brightened immediately and waved back enthusiastically. Near her sat Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the former glancing at Kael with curious green eyes. Kael nodded politely in their direction before taking a seat at the Ravenclaw table.

Professor Flitwick, the diminutive Head of Ravenclaw, bustled along the table distributing schedules. When he reached Kael, he positively beamed.

"Mr. Stormbane! Such an honor to have you in Ravenclaw," the tiny professor squeaked excitedly. "I've read your Grimoire of Arcane Mastery three times. Absolutely brilliant spell theory in chapter seven regarding the modulation of intent through nonverbal casting!"

"Thank you, Professor," Kael replied warmly. "I'm particularly looking forward to your class. My mother speaks highly of your dueling expertise."

"Ah, Selena was one of my finest students!" Flitwick exclaimed. "I still use her lightning ward demonstration for my NEWT students. And your father—well, Azrael's shadow-infused tempests were quite something to behold. I expect great things from you, Mr. Stormbane, though I daresay you've already accomplished more than most wizards twice your age!"

As Flitwick moved along, Terry and the other first-year Ravenclaws stared at Kael with renewed awe.

"You didn't mention your parents were famous too," said Michael Corner, leaning across the table.

Kael took a sip of pumpkin juice before responding. "They prefer their privacy these days. They taught me everything I know about practical applications of magic."

"So what's our schedule look like?" asked Anthony Goldstein, peering at the parchment Flitwick had handed them.

"Double Charms with Hufflepuff this morning," Kael said. "Then Transfiguration with the Slytherins after lunch."

Excitement bubbled through him. Finally, after years of reading about Hogwarts, hearing his parents' stories, and dreaming of walking its hallowed halls, he would experience the magic of formal education within these ancient walls.

The Charms classroom on the third floor was bright and cheerful, with large windows allowing sunlight to stream across the rows of desks. Professor Flitwick stood atop a stack of books to address the class, his enthusiasm infectious as he took roll call.

When he reached Kael's name, he gave an excited squeak before continuing. Once finished, he clapped his tiny hands together.

"Welcome to Charms! This subject is essential to your magical education. The precise wand movements and proper incantations you'll learn here will serve as the foundation for nearly every magical discipline you pursue!"

He proceeded to demonstrate the basic Levitation Charm, Wingardium Leviosa, making a feather float gracefully around the classroom.

"Now, let's pair up and practice! Remember—swish and flick!"

Kael found himself paired with Susan Bones, a friendly Hufflepuff with reddish hair who regarded him with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

"I've read about you," she said nervously as they each took a feather. "My aunt Amelia was on the Wizengamot panel that awarded you the Order of Merlin."

"Your aunt is Amelia Bones?" Kael asked, genuinely interested. "She asked insightful questions about the practical applications of my spellwork. I was impressed by her thoroughness."

Susan smiled, visibly relaxing. "That sounds like Auntie. She said you were remarkably poised for someone so young."

"You first?" Kael offered, gesturing to the feather between them.

Susan nodded, taking a deep breath before pointing her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The feather twitched but remained on the desk. She frowned in disappointment.

"Your wand movement is a bit rigid," Kael suggested gently. "May I?" When she nodded, he lightly guided her hand through the motion. "Like this—a smooth swish, then a sharp flick. And try emphasizing the 'gar' in Wingardium."

Susan tried again, following his advice. The feather wobbled, then rose shakily a few inches above the desk.

"I did it!" she exclaimed, beaming at him.

"Well done!" Kael praised sincerely.

"Your turn," Susan said, letting her feather drift back down.

Kael smiled, raising his wand with fluid grace. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said casually, barely audible. The feather didn't simply rise—it shot upward, then glided in complex patterns, weaving figure-eights and spirals near the ceiling.

Professor Flitwick's delighted gasp drew everyone's attention. "Oh my! Exceptional control, Mr. Stormbane! Simply exceptional! Look here, everyone—see how Mr. Stormbane maintains precise control over both elevation and directional movement!"

Kael guided the feather back down gently, feeling slightly embarrassed by the attention but pleased by the professor's praise.

"Could you demonstrate the wand movement for the class, please?" Flitwick asked.

Standing, Kael showed the precise swish and flick, explaining, "The swish gathers the magical energy, while the flick directs it with purpose. The key is maintaining the connection between your intent and the object."

"Ten points to Ravenclaw for outstanding charm work and excellent explanation!" Flitwick declared. "This is exactly the kind of precise control all of you should aspire to develop!"

When class ended, Susan approached Kael before he could leave. "Thanks for your help," she said sincerely. "Most people with your... reputation... wouldn't bother."

"We're all here to learn," Kael replied with a warm smile. "Besides, teaching others helps clarify concepts in my own mind." He gave a playful wink. "And Ravenclaws are always after more clarity, aren't we?"

Her laughter followed him into the corridor, where he found Hermione waiting, clutching her books to her chest.

"That was incredible," she said, falling into step beside him. "I managed to levitate my feather too, but not with that kind of precision."

"You're being modest," Kael replied, having noticed her success during class. "You got it on your third try—faster than almost everyone else."

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure at his praise. "I've been practicing wand movements with a pencil since I got my books. But I'd love to know how you maintained such fine control."

"It's about the relationship between your magic and the object," Kael explained as they walked toward the Great Hall for lunch. "Most wizards treat a spell as a command given to an object, but I find it more effective to envision it as a conversation."

"A conversation?" Hermione repeated, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Your magic doesn't just tell the feather to rise; it persuades it, guides it. The wand movement initiates the dialogue, the incantation clarifies your intent, but it's your will and magical signature that maintain the connection." Kael's eyes lit up as he spoke, passion evident in his animated gestures.

"That's... not in any of the textbooks," Hermione said slowly.

"It's chapter three of my grimoire," Kael admitted with a slightly mischievous smile. "But don't tell Professor Flitwick I'm already teaching from it."

Hermione laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "Your secret's safe with me. Though I'd love to borrow your book sometime."

"I'll find you a copy," he promised. They had reached the entrance to the Great Hall where they would need to separate to their respective tables. "Save me a seat in the library later? I have a feeling you already know where all the best study spots are."

Her smile was radiant. "Absolutely! After dinner?"

"It's a date," Kael replied with a playful wink that made her blush again before they parted ways.

After lunch, Kael made his way to Transfiguration with the other Ravenclaws. They shared this class with the Slytherins, and as they entered the classroom, Kael spotted Draco Malfoy sitting rigidly among his housemates. The blonde boy's eyes widened slightly when he saw Kael, and he offered a stiff nod of acknowledgment.

Kael smiled easily in return and, making a split-second decision, walked over to the empty seat beside Draco.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, ignoring the surprised looks from both Ravenclaws and Slytherins alike.

Draco seemed momentarily startled before composing himself. "Not at all," he replied, his voice carrying a practiced aristocratic drawl, though Kael detected a hint of genuine pleasure beneath it.

As Kael sat down, he noticed Draco's companions—Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle—shifting uncomfortably. Across the aisle, a dark-haired girl with a rather severe expression watched him with undisguised curiosity.

"Pansy Parkinson," she introduced herself, extending a hand. "Your reputation precedes you, Stormbane."

"Just Kael, please," he replied, shaking her hand with a charming smile. "And I've found reputations rarely tell the whole story."

Before she could respond, Professor McGonagall swept into the room. Tall, severe, and dressed in emerald green robes, she surveyed the class with sharp eyes behind square spectacles.

"Transfiguration," she began without preamble, "is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts." With a fluid motion of her wand, her desk transformed into a pig and back again. A ripple of appreciative murmurs swept through the classroom.

"Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back," she warned. "You have been advised."

She set them to turning matches into needles after taking copious notes on the theory behind the transformation. Kael found himself explaining quiet asides to Draco when the Slytherin struggled with the conceptual framework.

"Think of it as persuading the match that it wants to be a needle," Kael suggested in a whisper. "You're not forcing the change; you're guiding the object toward a different state of being."

Draco frowned. "That sounds suspiciously like you're suggesting the match has consciousness."

"Not consciousness," Kael corrected. "Essence. Everything has a magical essence that responds to our intent. The purer your intent, the cleaner the transformation."

After a few attempts following Kael's advice, Draco's match developed a silvery sheen and pointed tip, though it retained its wooden middle. Still, it was better progress than most of the class had achieved.

"How did you figure all this out?" Draco asked, genuinely curious. "Most purebloods I know just follow the textbook methods."

"My mother always said magic is more art than science," Kael replied. "Rules help beginners, but true mastery comes from understanding the underlying principles and then... playing with them." His eyes sparkled with mischief.

When McGonagall came around to inspect their progress, she paused at their desk. Kael had transformed his match not just into a perfect needle, but one with an ornate eye and a delicate pattern etched along its length.

The professor picked it up, examining it closely through her spectacles. "Impressive detail work, Mr. Stormbane. Most first-years struggle with the basic transformation, let alone decorative elements."

"Thank you, Professor," Kael replied respectfully.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, and Kael sensed she was measuring him up—not just his abilities, but his character.

"Your mother showed similar aptitude for detail," she finally said. "Though she preferred practical applications over artistic flourishes. Five points to Ravenclaw for exceptional work."

As she moved away, Draco muttered, "She doesn't give praise easily. My father says she's particularly hard on Slytherins."

"I think she's hard on everyone," Kael observed. "But fair. She didn't have to mention my mother's work—that was her way of acknowledging the family connection without treating me differently."

When class ended, McGonagall called out, "Mr. Stormbane, a moment please."

Kael nodded to Draco. "Save me a spot at dinner if I'm late?" The Slytherin looked surprised but nodded before leaving with his housemates.

Once the classroom had emptied, McGonagall regarded Kael with an inscrutable expression. "I wondered if you might find the first-year curriculum... less than challenging, given your background."

"Every teacher has something valuable to offer," Kael replied diplomatically. "And there's a difference between theoretical knowledge and classroom experience."

A hint of approval flickered across her stern features. "Well put. Nevertheless, I would be remiss as an educator if I didn't provide appropriate challenges for students of all levels." She reached into her desk and withdrew a slim volume. "This contains more advanced transfiguration exercises. You might find them stimulating when you've completed the regular assignments."

Kael accepted the book with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate the consideration."

"Your achievements have not gone unnoticed, Mr. Stormbane," McGonagall continued, her tone measured. "But here at Hogwarts, you will be evaluated not just on your magical abilities, but on how you use them. Power without wisdom can be dangerous."

"My father says the same thing," Kael acknowledged. "That a Stormbane's greatest responsibility is not mastering magic, but mastering ourselves."

Something in his response seemed to satisfy her. "Your father is a wise man. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish here. You are dismissed."

Kael's last class of the day was Potions in the dungeons. The Ravenclaws shared this class with the Hufflepuffs again, and the atmosphere in the classroom was markedly different from his previous experiences. The dungeon walls were lined with glass jars containing various preserved specimens floating in colored liquids. The air was cool and damp, permeated with the smells of herbs and chemicals.

Professor Snape entered with billowing black robes, his expression severe and his dark eyes scanning the room coldly. He, like Flitwick, began with roll call, but when he reached Kael's name, he paused, his gaze lifting to study the young Ravenclaw.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying throughout the silent classroom. "Mr. Stormbane. Our newest... celebrity."

A few nervous chuckles sounded from the Hufflepuffs, quickly silenced by Snape's glacial stare. He finished the roll call and faced the class, his dark eyes glittering.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began, speaking in barely more than a whisper. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..."

Kael found himself leaning forward slightly, captivated not just by the words but by the evident passion behind them. Snape clearly loved his subject, even if he seemed to hold his students in considerably less regard.

"Stormbane!" Snape said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The question was clearly meant to catch him off guard, but Kael answered without hesitation. "The Draught of Living Death, sir. A sleeping potion so powerful it simulates death."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, Professor. It's a stone that acts as an antidote to most poisons."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Kael met Snape's gaze steadily. "They're the same plant, sir, also known as aconite. I used a modified extract in my Lykathos Draught to neutralize the lunar sensitivity in the werewolf's blood without compromising the regenerative properties."

A hush fell over the classroom. Snape's expression remained impassive, but something shifted in his eyes—a flicker of what might have been surprise, or perhaps reluctant respect.

"Indeed," he said finally. "It appears that fame isn't everything, in your case." Coming from Snape, this seemed almost like high praise. "For your information," he continued, addressing the class, "asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." He surveyed the room with a critical eye. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape added, "And a point to Ravenclaw for Mr. Stormbane's... adequate answers."

Kael kept his expression neutral, though inwardly he smiled. From what he'd heard about Snape, that single point was more significant than Flitwick's ten.

They were set to work in pairs, mixing a simple potion to cure boils. Kael found himself partnered with Susan Bones again, who seemed relieved by the familiar face after Snape's intimidating introduction.

"He's terrifying," she whispered as they began weighing dried nettles.

"He's exacting," Kael corrected quietly. "Potions can be dangerous if brewed incorrectly. His approach might seem harsh, but it ensures people pay attention."

As they worked, Kael guided Susan through the process with the same patience he'd shown in Charms. When Snape swept by their cauldron, he paused, examining the perfect shade of their potion and the precise way Kael was crushing the snake fangs rather than powdering them.

"Interesting technique, Mr. Stormbane," Snape commented. "Not in the instructions."

"Crushing rather than grinding preserves the venom properties while allowing for better integration with the horned slugs, sir," Kael explained. "It produces a more stable reaction during the heating phase."

Snape's lip curled—not in derision, Kael realized, but in something approaching intellectual interest. "And where did you learn this variation?"

"It's one of my mother's modifications," Kael replied. "She found it improved efficacy by approximately twelve percent."

"Selena always did have an instinct for practical improvements," Snape said, almost to himself, before moving on without further comment.

Susan stared at Kael. "Did he just... have a normal conversation with you?"

"I think he's testing me," Kael replied thoughtfully. "To see if I've actually earned my reputation or if it's just family name and publicity."

By the end of class, their potion was perfect—a fact Snape acknowledged with a curt nod but no verbal praise. As they packed up their supplies, he called out, "Stormbane. A word."

Susan gave him a sympathetic look before hurrying out with the other students.

Snape waited until the dungeon was empty before speaking. "Your modification to the Wolfsbane Potion to create the Lykathos Draught was... unconventional."

Kael recognized this for the opening it was. "The conventional approach treated the symptoms rather than the curse itself. By targeting the magical binding mechanism instead of trying to suppress the transformation, I could break the curse permanently."

"Yet the existing literature on curse-breaking potions suggested such an approach would be fatal to the subject," Snape countered, his voice silky.

"That's because they tried to sever the curse completely in a single administration," Kael explained, warming to the technical discussion. "My approach uses incremental phase-shifting of the lunar resonance within the victim's magical core, gradually neutralizing the curse over seven treatments aligned with the lunar cycle. The risk of magical shock is minimized while still achieving permanent results."

Snape's dark eyes studied him with new intensity. "You sound like your mother. She also had little regard for established limitations when they interfered with her objectives."

Kael couldn't quite tell if this was criticism or compliment. "My mother always says that limitations in magical theory often exist only because no one has yet found the right question to ask."

A ghost of something that might have been amusement flickered across Snape's face. "Indeed. Your potion work today was... acceptable. Unlike some of your classmates, you seem to understand the importance of precision."

Coming from Snape, Kael understood this to be significant praise. "Thank you, sir."

"Do not expect special treatment in my class because of your... prior accomplishments," Snape warned, his tone cooling. "Here, you will be judged solely on the merit of your work."

"I would prefer nothing else, Professor," Kael replied honestly.

Snape dismissed him with a curt nod, and Kael left the dungeons feeling oddly satisfied. The Potions Master was challenging, certainly, but Kael sensed in him a genuine dedication to his craft that he could respect.

By the time Kael reached the Great Hall for dinner, word of his first-day performances had spread throughout the school. As he entered, he noticed more heads turning, more whispers following him than even that morning. He spotted Draco at the Slytherin table, who, surprisingly, had indeed saved him a seat, though it remained empty as house separation was strictly observed during meals.

The Slytherin caught his eye and gave a slight nod, which Kael returned with a smile before making his way to the Ravenclaw table. He was halfway there when a pair of identical redheads intercepted him.

"Well, well, well," said one of the Weasley twins—Fred, Kael guessed, noting the slightly more mischievous glint in his eye. "If it isn't the famous Kael Stormbane."

"Heard you've been showing off in classes all day," said the other—George, by process of elimination.

"Making professors swoon—" continued Fred.

"—students gawk—" added George.

"—and Snape almost crack a smile!" they finished in unison, looking scandalized at the very thought.

Kael laughed, genuinely amused by their theatrics. "I think 'almost' is being generous. And I wouldn't call it showing off—just trying not to disappoint after all the buildup."

"Modest too," George said with a dramatic sigh.

"Ruining our fun," Fred agreed, shaking his head.

"We had plans, you know," George informed him.

"Big plans," Fred emphasized.

"For the illustrious Stormbane heir."

"Expected you to be all serious and proper—"

"—maybe a bit stuck-up—"

"—definitely too important to be pranked—"

"—but now we're not so sure," they concluded together, studying him with identical speculative looks.

Kael raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. "Sounds like I've disrupted your carefully laid plans. How inconsiderate of me. Perhaps I should develop a superiority complex right away to get things back on track?"

The twins exchanged delighted glances.

"Oh, I like him," Fred declared.

"A right proper sense of humor," George agreed.

"We might have to reconsider our approach."

"Perhaps an alliance instead of a target?"

"Precisely what I was thinking, brother mine."

They turned back to Kael with matching grins that promised mischief. "We'll be in touch, Stormbane," Fred said with a mock salute before they sauntered off toward the Gryffindor table.

Still smiling, Kael finally reached the Ravenclaw table and took a seat beside Terry Boot, who immediately bombarded him with questions about his experience in Snape's class. The meal passed pleasantly, with Kael dividing his attention between his housemates' conversation and observing the dynamics in the Great Hall. He noticed Harry Potter watching him curiously several times from the Gryffindor table, and Hermione animatedly telling him something—probably about their earlier conversation, Kael surmised.

After dinner, true to his word, Kael met Hermione in the library. She had claimed a secluded table near a window overlooking the lake, already surrounded by a formidable stack of books.

"I saved you a seat," she said brightly as he approached, moving her bag from the chair beside her. "And I've been researching your theory about magic as a conversation. It's fascinating! I found references in some advanced theory texts that seem to support your ideas, though none of them phrase it quite the way you do."

Kael smiled, setting down his own books. "The phrasing helps with visualization, which strengthens intent. Different wizards conceptualize magic in different ways—what works for me might not work for everyone."

"That makes sense," Hermione agreed. "It's like different learning styles in non-magical education."

They spent the next hour discussing magical theory, their conversation flowing easily from one topic to the next. Kael found himself genuinely impressed by Hermione's intellect and meticulous approach to learning.

"You know," he said as they packed up to leave before curfew, "most people just want to talk about my publications or family name. It's refreshing to have a conversation about magical concepts without all that baggage."

Hermione blushed slightly. "Well, I am curious about those things too," she admitted. "But the magic itself is more interesting. Besides, you don't treat me like I'm annoying when I ask too many questions. Most people do."

"There's no such thing as too many questions," Kael replied seriously. "How else do we learn? Besides, your questions are thoughtful. They make me reconsider my own assumptions."

Her smile lit up her entire face, and Kael felt a pang of sympathy. He recognized in her something of himself before his System had awakened—a brilliant mind hungry for knowledge but often isolated because of it.

"We should do this again," he suggested as they reached the point where they would need to separate. "Same time tomorrow?"

"I'd like that," she replied, beaming.

As the week progressed, Kael continued to impress in his classes. In Herbology, Professor Sprout was delighted by his gentle handling of the plants and his extensive knowledge of their magical properties. History of Magic, taught by the ghostly Professor Binns, was less engaging, but Kael used the time to take detailed notes, occasionally passing amusing observations to Terry Boot to keep him awake.

Defense Against the Dark Arts proved disappointing. Professor Quirrell, with his pronounced stutter and nervous demeanor, seemed barely capable of teaching the subject. The classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which Quirrell claimed was to ward off a vampire he'd encountered in Romania. During their first lesson, Kael experienced an odd sensation—a faint pressure behind his eyes whenever Quirrell turned his back to write on the blackboard. By the end of class, he had developed a mild headache.

Friday brought double Potions with the Hufflepuffs again. This time, Snape set them to brewing a Forgetfulness Potion—slightly more complex than their previous assignment. Kael worked methodically, his movements precise and efficient. When Snape passed by his cauldron, he paused longer than necessary, examining the perfect consistency of the potion.

"Your technique demonstrates adequate attention to detail," Snape commented, which from him was high praise indeed. "Though I note you've adjusted the stirring pattern from the textbook instructions."

"Nine clockwise stirs instead of ten, with a quarter-turn counterclockwise after the sixth, sir," Kael confirmed. "It prevents the Lethe River water from binding too strongly with the mistletoe berries before the valerian can properly integrate."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "That modification is not documented in standard texts."

"It's something I developed while working on memory-related potions for my research," Kael explained. "The standard formula works, but this method produces a more stable result with fifteen percent increased efficacy."

For a moment, Snape seemed to be weighing something in his mind. Finally, he said, "After class, you will provide me with the precise methodology and your testing results for verification."

"Of course, Professor."

After class, Kael stayed behind as instructed, presenting Snape with his notes on the modification. The Potions Master reviewed them with critical attention, occasionally asking pointed questions about Kael's testing procedures and control mechanisms.

"Your documentation is... thorough," Snape finally acknowledged. "Though your sample size is limited."

"I had restricted access to testing resources," Kael admitted. "I'd welcome more rigorous validation."

Snape studied him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. "Your mother exhibited similar innovative tendencies. She was never content to follow instructions without understanding the underlying principles."

"She taught me that innovation without understanding is merely reckless experimentation," Kael replied.

"A lesson many would do well to learn," Snape said with a slight incline of his head. "You may go, Stormbane. And... bring any future modifications to my attention before implementing them in class."

"Yes, sir," Kael agreed, recognizing the implicit permission to continue experimenting, provided he kept Snape informed.

As he left the dungeons, Kael reflected on his first week at Hogwarts. Despite his prior achievements, he had gained valuable insights from each professor. Flitwick's enthusiasm and detailed knowledge of charm work, McGonagall's precision and disciplined approach to transfiguration, Sprout's nurturing expertise with magical plants, and even Snape's exacting standards and deep understanding of potion-making—each offered perspectives that books alone couldn't provide.

Moreover, he had begun forming connections: Hermione's intellectual friendship, the tentative respect from Draco, Susan's growing confidence under his guidance, and the promising mischief of a potential alliance with the Weasley twins. Even his fellow Ravenclaws had moved beyond their initial awe to treat him as one of their own.

As he climbed the spiral staircase to Ravenclaw Tower, Kael smiled to himself. For the first time in his life, he wasn't just the prodigy, the Stormbane heir, or the youngest Order of Merlin recipient. Here, he could be just Kael—brilliant and powerful, certainly, but also a student among students, learning and growing alongside his peers.

The bronze eagle-shaped knocker on the Ravenclaw door posed its riddle: "I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?"

"An echo," Kael answered without hesitation.

As the door swung open, he felt a sense of belonging wash over him. Regardless of the prophecies, the expectations, or the legacy of his name, Hogwarts offered him something precious—a place to be himself, to forge his own path.