Languages he knew: modern English, obviously. Early Modern English, he could read. Latin from his studies. Sanskrit and Arabic from his recent tutoring. That gave him access to a significant portion of the library's holdings.
Languages he needed to learn: Middle English would be useful. Old English for the oldest texts. Gaelic for the Celtic magical traditions. Maybe Norse for the Viking magical practices.
His mind was already cataloguing, planning, organizing. So much knowledge, so much to learn. He'd need years just to work through the texts he could already read, let alone master new languages to access the rest.
James checked his watch and was startled to see it was nearly six o'clock. Dinner would be starting soon, and he'd skipped lunch entirely. His stomach growled in agreement.
But first, he wanted to check out some books.
He selected carefully. A fifth-century transfiguration textbook in Latin. An Early Modern English charms compendium from the 1600s. And most interestingly, a defense text from the 1400s, back when the subject was actually called "Dark Arts" rather than "Defense Against the Dark Arts."
James carried his selections to the front desk, where Madam Pince sat like a guardian dragon protecting her hoard. She was a thin, severe-looking witch with prominent cheekbones and a perpetually suspicious expression. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her robes were practical and unadorned.
She looked up as James approached, her eyes narrowing as she saw the ancient books he carried.
"Can you even understand these?" she asked, her voice sharp with skepticism.
"Yes, ma'am," James said politely. "I can read Latin and Early Modern English. I find it interesting to compare historical magical curriculum with the modern one."
Madam Pince's expression suggested she didn't quite believe him, but she couldn't deny a student access to non-restricted materials. She checked the books out with obvious reluctance, making careful notes in her ledger.
"These books are irreplaceable," she said sternly. "Any damage will result in severe consequences. You understand?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll be extremely careful."
"See that you are." She handed the books over with the air of someone parting with precious children. "Due back in two weeks. Not a day later."
James packed the books carefully in his bag and left the library. It was just past six, and the Great Hall was filling with students for dinner.
He found a seat at the Ravenclaw table and caught Professor Flitwick's eye across the hall at the High Table. They nodded to each other, a brief acknowledgment.
Food appeared, and James filled his plate. The usual bland fare, but he was hungry enough not to care. He ate quickly, washing everything down with water, then excused himself and headed back to the library.
The library closed at eight, and James intended to use every minute.
He found a quiet corner table far from other students and opened the Early Modern English charms text first. The language was accessible enough, though the spelling was wildly inconsistent, and some of the vocabulary was archaic.
As he read, James began to notice something fascinating. The magical theory underlying the spells was essentially the same as modern charms, but the approach was different. Where modern charms teaching emphasized standardization and simplified casting, the historical text presented multiple variations of each spell.
For a simple water-making charm, the modern textbook taught one spell: Aguamenti. But this historical text listed a dozen different water charms, each with slightly different effects. One created pure drinking water. Another produced water hot enough for tea. A third generated salt water. A fourth made sparkling water. Others varied in the volume produced, the temperature, the purity.
The same pattern held for fire-making charms. Modern students learned Incendio. This text offered variations that produced different colors of flame, different intensities, different durations, and different fuel requirements.
It was like comparing mass-produced goods to artisan craftsmanship. Modern magic was efficient and standardized. Historical magic was diverse and specialized.
James made extensive notes; his eidetic memory capturing every spell variation, every subtle difference in wand movement or pronunciation.
Then he opened the defense text, and his interest intensified dramatically.
The book was titled The Darke Arts, written in 1432 by a wizard named Godfrey Thornwood. But unlike modern Defense Against the Dark Arts texts, this one didn't shy away from teaching actual combat magic.
Spells that would be sixth or seventh-year material in modern Hogwarts were presented as first-year content. Stunning spells, binding curses, defensive spells, and even some borderline dark magic for "educational purposes only."
The dumbing down of the defense curriculum was immediately obvious. Over centuries, dangerous spells had been systematically removed, pushed to higher years or eliminated entirely. The modern first-year defense curriculum was a pale shadow of what students once learned.
James could understand the reasoning. In a world where everyone was armed with a weapon capable of mass destruction, the Ministry had a vested interest in keeping the population dependent. If every witch and wizard were capable of powerful combat magic, what need did they have for Aurors? For Ministry protection?
Better to keep most wizards only moderately skilled, reliant on trained professionals for serious threats. Better to control access to dangerous knowledge, ensuring most people never learned how truly powerful they could become.
It was insidious and brilliant in equal measure.
James made notes on the most interesting spells, particularly the ones that had no modern equivalent. He'd practice them later, in his secret classroom where no one would see.
"The library is closing in five minutes," Madam Pince announced, her voice cutting through the quiet. "Please return all books to their shelves or check them out at the desk."
James gathered his things. He'd already checked out these books, so he packed them carefully and left the library.
It was nearly eight-thirty. Curfew started at nine for first years, giving him just enough time to wash up and change.
The bathroom was crowded this time, filled with students completing their evening routines. James hurried through his shower, brushed his teeth quickly, and returned to his room with damp hair and clean pajamas.
He locked the door with Colloportus, then settled at his desk with his practice materials.
He'd finished the fourth-year charms textbook today during his free period practice. Now he opened the Early Modern English charms compendium and began working through the spell variations systematically.
Different water-making charms first. Aqua Pura for pure drinking water. Aqua Calida for hot water. Each one required slightly different wand movements, different pronunciation, and different visualization.
Then fire charms. Ignis Caeruleus for blue flames. Ignis Perpetuus for a flame that burned without fuel. Ignis Globus for a fireball that could be thrown.
The fireball charm was particularly fascinating. James practiced the wand movement carefully, visualizing the sphere of flame, speaking the incantation clearly.
"Ignis Globus!"
A ball of fire erupted from his wand tip, about the size of his fist, and shot across the room directly at his desk.
"Shit!" James reacted on instinct, casting Aguamenti to douse the flames before they could catch. Water sprayed across his desk, soaking his parchments and books.
Heart pounding, James stared at the scorched wood where the fireball had impacted. Another few seconds and his entire desk would have been ablaze. And the library books...
He checked them frantically. Thankfully, they were fine, protected by his bag. But it had been close. Too close.
James cleaned up the water with Tergeo, repaired the scorch marks with Reparo, and made a firm decision: dangerous spells would be practiced in the empty classroom from now on. His room contained too many things he didn't want to accidentally destroy.
He checked his watch. Nearly eleven. He needed sleep, especially since he'd planned to wake at five tomorrow to explore the castle before classes.
James set his alarm, climbed into bed, and tried to settle. But his mind was too active, still processing everything he'd learned today. The spell variations, the historical defense curriculum, and the implications of magical knowledge being systematically restricted.
He pulled out one of his theory books and read by wand light, letting the familiar rhythm of study calm his racing thoughts.
Finally, exhaustion won. James closed the book, extinguished his wand, and let sleep claim him.
Tomorrow would bring more classes, more practice, and more discoveries. The castle held countless secrets, and James intended to uncover as many as possible.
But tonight, he dreamed of ancient spells and forbidden knowledge, of fireballs and water charms, of the vast library stretching endlessly into shadows filled with books waiting to be read.