The magic flowed through him smoothly, responding to his will and visualization. The wooden frame rippled under his direction, the grain of the wood shifting and rearranging. Doors formed, their edges perfectly aligned. Hinges appeared, brass fittings that gleamed in the lamplight. Internal rods for hanging clothes materialized, strong enough to bear weight. Shelves took shape in the lower section, ideal for folded items.
Within minutes, he had a proper wardrobe. Tall and sturdy, with doors that opened smoothly on well-fitted hinges and brass handles that felt solid under his hand. The wood was dark oak, the finish smooth. It looked like quality furniture, not a student project.
James allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, then moved on to the next piece.
The set of drawers came together just as smoothly. Five drawers of varying sizes, perfectly fitted to their frame, each one sliding in and out with satisfying precision. He transfigured the wood to match the wardrobe, creating a cohesive look. The metal pulls were simple but elegant, and the joints were strong enough to last for years.
Next came the chair, and this required more concentration. A Chesterfield chair was complex, with its distinctive deep button tufting and rolled arms. James had to carefully transfigure the wood into the correct frame shape, then work the fabric and cushioning into place. He shaped it carefully, creating the tufted back panel button by button, ensuring each one was perfectly placed and securely fastened.
The result was beautiful. A chair that would have cost hundreds of pounds in the Muggle world, created through transfiguration in less than half an hour. It was comfortable when he tested it, the cushioning firm but yielding, the back support excellent.
He added a small side table to hold books while he read, keeping the design simple and elegant. Dark wood to match the other pieces, a circular top large enough for a few books and a cup of tea, three legs for stability.
Finally, James turned his attention to the desk and chair provided by the school. They were functional but plain, the kind of basic furniture that served its purpose without any thought to aesthetics or comfort. James decided to enhance rather than replace them.
He added drawers to the desk, three on each side, perfect for storing parchment, quills, ink bottles, and study materials. The desktop he expanded slightly, giving himself more work surface. He refined the lines, making the piece more attractive while maintaining its functionality.
The chair he improved by adding cushioning to the seat and back, making it comfortable for long study sessions. He adjusted the height slightly, ensuring it matched the desk properly, and strengthened the joints to prevent wobbling.
James stepped back to admire his work, surveying the transformed room with satisfaction. What had been a sparse, unwelcoming space now looked like a proper chamber.
The wardrobe stood against one wall, the set of drawers beside it. The Chesterfield chair occupied a corner near the window, with its side table perfectly positioned. The desk and chair looked professional, purpose-built for serious academic work.
The room had personality now. It was his space, shaped by his magic, a reflection of his skill and taste.
The furniture was all Muggle-style, without any extension charms or magical enhancements beyond the transfiguration itself. James wasn't ready to attempt spatial magic yet. Too much risk, too little experience with the theoretical frameworks that made such charms safe.
The books he'd read had been clear about the dangers: dimensional instability, spatial collapse, the possibility of creating rifts that couldn't be closed. Extension charms required precise calculations and perfect execution. One mistake could have catastrophic consequences.
But as he looked at the empty drawers in his newly created furniture, he was tempted to attempt extension charms.
He could practice extension charms on those drawers. Small-scale and controlled, with clear boundaries. Each drawer was a separate space, easily contained.
If something went wrong, the worst could be dealt with by the professors. Hogwarts was the perfect testing ground for experimenting with magic.
But expansion was NEWT-level magic, and he would need Professor Flitwick to supervise him, at least in the initial stage. He didn't want to risk life and limb, his or anyone else's.
He doesn't have plot armor. He is only a few years into his second life; he doesn't fancy trying his hand at a third one so soon.
The wardrobe could remain as it was for the time being, a place to hang his robes and store his clothes. But those five drawers he'd just created, they could become something more. Extended spaces, each one capable of holding far more than its apparent volume.
James pulled out one of the few yet unread books he'd bought in Diagon Alley, a thick tome titled Spatial Compression Magic: Theory and Application by Ignatia Wenworth.
He settled into his new Chesterfield chair, adjusting the cushions until he found the perfect position. The leather was smooth under his hands, perfectly comfortable, and the reading light from his wand provided excellent illumination.
He began to read, absorbing theory about dimensional folding, about creating stable pockets of expanded space, about the relationships that governed spatial compression. The author explained how magic could convince space that it was larger than it appeared, creating a dimensional pocket that existed partially outside normal reality. The calculations were complex, involving precise ratios and geometric relationships that had to be maintained throughout the spell's duration.
The book emphasized safety protocols repeatedly. Always start with small extensions, no more than double the original volume. Test the stability before adding items. Monitor for dimensional drift, the tendency of extended spaces to gradually collapse back to normal size.
Never attempt extension charms while tired or distracted.
Always have a backup plan if the magic fails.
James read for hours, his eidetic memory capturing every diagram, every formula, every warning and instruction. The theory was elegant and beautiful, mathematics and magic working in perfect harmony to bend reality in useful ways.
He could see why wizards found spatial magic so appealing, despite its dangers. The practical applications were enormous.
His trunk, the one his parents had bought him in Diagon Alley, used extension charms. So did Hogwarts. Diagon Alley itself was a result of extending space. The Hogwarts library was certainly larger inside than outside. Extension charms were everywhere in the wizarding world, so common that most people didn't even think about them.
But understanding the theory behind them, seeing the complexity involved, gave James a new appreciation and respect for the magic.
This wasn't simple spell work.
This was advanced magical engineering, requiring deep knowledge of both magic and architecture.
By the time exhaustion began to tug at his consciousness, James had read through the whole book and had a solid theoretical foundation. He understood the principles, the calculations, the safety protocols.
He'd attempt the practical application later, after more study and perhaps some guidance from his professor. Flitwick, being a charms master, would definitely know about extension charms, or perhaps Professor McGonagall. Transfiguration and Charms often overlapped in spatial magic, but he doubted Professor McGonagall would be willing to let him attempt such a dangerous spell even under supervision. Better to stick with his head of the house.
He set the book on the side table beside his chair and stretched. His back was slightly stiff from sitting for so long, and his eyes were tired from reading by candlelight.
Time for sleep.
James climbed the ladder to his bed, the new furniture casting interesting shadows in the dim light. The mattress was comfortable and the blankets warm and soft. Through the window, he could see stars twinkling over the vast Hogwarts grounds, the forest a dark mass in the distance, the lake reflecting moonlight.
The Forest. The Lake. So much to explore.
His first full day at Hogwarts was complete. He'd demonstrated his abilities without being too in-your-face flashy, secured advanced study opportunities in Charms with time, earned points for his house, transformed his room into a proper living space, and begun exploring new magical frontiers with spatial theory.
Tomorrow would bring more classes. Herbology and double Potions. More opportunities to assess his skill level and to understand where he stood in each subject. To see if he could get enough of his teachers' regard to have their guidance in advanced studies.
Though he doubted Snape would be of much help.
Even in Ravenclaw, his disregard for anyone not a Slytherin was well known, though the Ravenclaws were grateful they were graced with his disregard instead of the derision he saved for the Gryffindors.
But tonight, exhausted and satisfied, James closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, a small smile on his face.