Bondrewd stirred from slumber at precisely half-past seven, the muffled chorus of snores drifting through the dormitory like background static. He rose silently, already dressed in mind before his feet touched the floor.
Down the spiral staircase and into the circular common room, he found it — to his mild disappointment — empty. Ravenclaws might be seekers of knowledge, but not all rose early to find it.
Drawn to the towering shelves, he perused the titles methodically before selecting a third-year's annotated study notes, a worn copy of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 3, and a slim, hand-bound volume titled Hogwarts Map — a whimsical, unofficial guide compiled by a past upper-year student.
He sat in a high-backed chair, the early morning breeze brushing through the arched windows, and read.
Thirty minutes later, with the sky brightening to a pale blue, he rose, slipping two of the books under his arm and heading down toward the Great Hall. Along the way, he nodded cordially to passing upper-years, many of whom were only just beginning to stir.
"Morning..." Padma Patil mumbled sleepily from where she slouched on a cushioned bench.
"Good morning, Miss Patil," Bondrewd responded, a small nod accompanying the greeting as he stepped through the doorway.
He retraced his route through the corridors, mapping the path from memory. Upon reaching the Great Hall, he found it sparsely populated. Most students were still waking — only the most punctual first-years had arrived.
He took a seat, his breakfast appearing before him: a traditional British spread and a strong cup of coffee. Without fanfare, he reopened his books.
Though he'd practiced a great many spells in advance, the material he'd acquired in Diagon Alley's limited library was varied and shallow. His aim had never been to dabble — he wanted mastery.
The Book of Spells was expectedly redundant in places, overlapping with content he'd read elsewhere, yet a few spells stood out — notably the Memory Charm, subtle in theory and powerful in practice.
The third-year notes, on the other hand, were disappointingly self-indulgent. Pages filled with grand theories and dramatic flair revealed more about the writer's ego than spellwork. He skimmed efficiently, mentally filtering the usable fragments and discarding the fluff.
One element from the textbook stood out — marginalia scrawled by older students. Diagrams of wand movements, annotated refinements to incantations, and crucially, tips on maximizing magical output through precise technique.
For all his raw ability, Bondrewd knew his casting power was still a fraction of that of an adult wizard. Technique would be the bridge.
He was mid-sentence in a comparison between incantation pronunciation and wand angle efficiency when a light tap brushed his shoulder.
"Um, we have class," Padma's voice came hesitantly.
Bondrewd looked up, blinking. "Ah. I appear to have lost track of time. Thank you, Padma."
He stood gracefully, closing the book with care and tucking it beneath his arm. With his other hand, he unfurled the handmade map.
"If you'd follow me, I believe I can guide us to Charms."
"Ah—yes!" she replied, slightly breathless, falling into step beside him.
They spoke quietly as they walked, Bondrewd leading the way through stairwells and corridors until they arrived at a moderately sized classroom.
Rows of desks led up to a raised lectern, books and parchment scattered like forgotten relics. A blackboard flanked each side, covered in faint chalk marks. A few eager Hufflepuffs were already seated near the front.
Bondrewd took his place beside a fellow Ravenclaw. Padma settled beside him. He reopened his notes, eyes flicking across pages even as more students filed in.
At exactly nine o'clock, the door swung open and in bounced Professor Flitwick — a small man with an exuberant presence. He scaled a stack of thick books behind the lectern, balancing precariously.
Roll call began. His enthusiasm was palpable.
"Is he always like this?" Terry whispered, leaning over.
"He can't be," Padma murmured, eyes wide as Flitwick nearly toppled his tower.
Bondrewd didn't comment. A dueling champion rarely broadcasted their threat. He simply watched.
Flitwick cleared his throat. "Today, we begin with the Levitation Charm — Wingardium Leviosa!"
He demonstrated, wand swishing and flicking theatrically.
At his command, a dozen books rose above him like startled birds before shooting toward the far wall with a thunderous slam.
"A simple spell... yet deadly when applied correctly," he said with a mischievous twinkle.
Some students clapped nervously.
"Now, let's begin!"
The class mimicked his exaggerated wand movements.
Bondrewd followed along, measuring the precision. His previous practice had yielded results, but the formal technique added clarity — and power.
"Swish and flick — Wingardium Leviosa," Flitwick repeated.
Most students struggled. Feathers twitched or sat inert.
Bondrewd's own feather rose gently, floating with calm grace before him.
"Look! Lambeth has done it! Five points to Ravenclaw for excellent spellcasting!"
Bondrewd inclined his head. "Thank you, Professor."
Terry gawked. "How did you—?"
Bondrewd leaned over, subtly adjusting Terry's grip and motion.
Moments later, Terry's feather rose clumsily into the air.
"Five more points to Ravenclaw! Helping your peers already — marvellous!"
The Hufflepuff side, meanwhile, remained mostly grounded.
From Terry's difficulty, Bondrewd deduced the problem — magical reserves. Not everyone had the same supply.
"So even magic has an exchange rate," he mused aloud.
"Professor?"
Flitwick beamed. "Yes, my boy?"
"If we were to quantify it, what is the exchange rate of magical power? How efficient is casting, on average?"
The professor rubbed his chin. "Well! It depends, of course. On focus, technique, control... Theoretically, a spell could be cast with 100% efficiency. But most students average around 60%."
"Talented individuals might reach 80%. Specialists in a spell — perhaps 90%."
Bondrewd absorbed the answer, nodding. "Thank you, Professor."
Ten percent.
A small margin by appearance, yet massive in effect.
In combat, in study, in practice — efficiency determined longevity. Precision gave power.
It was not enough to learn magic. He had to perfect it.
"One last question, sir," he asked again.
"Yes?"
"Does mastery of one spell — through technique or repetition — aid in learning others of similar nature?"
Flitwick paused. "Mmm... I suppose. Familiarity helps. But the effect is modest."
"I see. Thank you again."
Not good enough.
Uncertainty was unacceptable. He would test it himself.
As a novice, he had an advantage — the learning curve.
He could measure the rate of improvement between spells.
But for accurate testing, he needed two constants: Mastery of base technique. Emotional equilibrium.
Both, he could manage.
Spellcasting was only a matter of time. And emotion? With Legilimency and Occlumency, even the self could be silenced.
Bondrewd returned to his notes.