(Author's note: I am not a writer, just taking my first step into creating fanfiction. I heavily used ChatGPT, so if there's anything wrong or things I should add, inform me so I can fix it.)
The morning light filtered softly through the high windows of the Hogwarts library, scattering pale gold across the worn wooden tables and endless rows of books. The air smelled faintly of parchment and candle wax, mingled with the tang of ink from the open tomes scattered across the desks. Evelyn sat with her notebook open, quill in hand, observing Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they combed through a collection of old magical reference books. Hermione's brow was furrowed in that familiar intense focus she always wore when pursuing an answer; she flipped pages rapidly, muttering Latin words under her breath as she cross-referenced multiple sources. Ron, predictably, had already slumped halfway out of his chair, grumbling about the monotony of sifting through hundreds of pages that seemed to say nothing of real importance. "Honestly," he muttered, dragging his finger down a particularly long page of text, "I don't see how Nicolas Flamel even gets mentioned in here. He's probably hiding under some rock in the middle of nowhere."
Evelyn, while technically a participant in the search, allowed her mind to flit between the trio's conversation and the gnawing concern she had for her own magical progress. She watched as Harry ran his fingers along a row of old alchemical texts, whispering theories about Flamel's methods and whether Dumbledore might have known him personally. She contributed carefully, choosing her words to highlight logical possibilities without revealing too much about her own internal system. "He may not appear in standard records at all," she suggested, voice calm and measured. "Alchemists like him often prefer to obscure themselves intentionally. If he's avoided mainstream attention, we might need to look in specialized journals or even magical periodicals from the early eighteenth century. He could have published anonymously, or under a symbolic mark instead of a name." Hermione's eyes brightened at that insight, and she nodded enthusiastically, scribbling down Evelyn's suggestion. Ron, however, continued to frown skeptically. "Anonymous marks? That's just a fancy way of saying 'we're wasting our time,' isn't it?"
The discussion turned into a debate about the difficulty of tracking a wizard whose influence had been deliberately hidden for centuries. Hermione argued that careful research and attention to historical patterns might yield something concrete, while Harry speculated about alchemical properties and protective enchantments that could hide his identity. Evelyn followed along, occasionally adding small observations about subtle cues in the texts: the way certain runes were repeated, or how certain alchemical formulas had peculiar structural similarities to known Flamel manuscripts. Yet even as she contributed, part of her mind was elsewhere. She thought about the persistent plateau she had encountered with Nox, stuck frustratingly at 19%. She couldn't help but compare the difficulty of understanding Flamel's cryptic work to breaking through the invisible ceiling of her own magic, feeling the parallel between intellectual discovery and the mastery of mystical craft.
Hours passed in that quiet concentration, punctuated by the soft scratching of quills and the occasional flipping of a heavy page. The trio grew increasingly frustrated as each new lead seemed to dissolve into ambiguity, leaving only more questions than answers. Evelyn, meanwhile, made mental notes not only about Flamel's possible whereabouts but also about the way the texts demonstrated subtle patterns of magical reinforcement. She considered how protective wards in the alchemical journals could reflect principles similar to those she had discovered in Shieldum and Lumos Maxima. Though she did not yet fully understand the relationship between these concepts, she recognized that her progress in charms could be informed by the careful analysis she applied to their Flamel research. By the time the group decided to expand their search to even older, more obscure volumes in the restricted section, Evelyn felt the familiar tension of curiosity and capability tugging at her, a mixture of excitement for discovery and quiet frustration at the limits of her own first-year magical core.
Finally, Hermione closed her notebook with a satisfied but anxious sigh, trying to summarize their findings. "We've made some progress," she said, eyes bright with determination. "We might not know exactly where Flamel is, but at least we have leads for tomorrow. Early eighteenth-century journals, obscure alchemical periodicals, and any symbolic publications are our next step." Evelyn nodded, tucking her own notes away carefully. She felt a pang of anticipation for the magical work that awaited her in charms, but she also silently acknowledged the lesson that research had reminded her of: understanding comes from patience, observation, and careful consideration—whether the subject is a hidden alchemist or a spell that refuses to grow beyond its limits.
After the morning's session in the library, Hermione was insistent that Evelyn accompany her and the others to the Gryffindor common room, claiming that a change of scenery might help them think differently about the Flamel research. Evelyn, although a Ravenclaw by house, followed without protest, carrying her notebook and quill carefully tucked under her arm. The corridors were quiet, the occasional echo of footsteps the only sound aside from the distant flutter of tapestries swaying slightly with the draft. Even in this small walk, Evelyn observed the subtle magical protections embedded along the walls, from anti-theft charms on the display cases to wards ensuring that the heavier portraits did not swing too wildly. She made mental notes, aware that observing these everyday applications of magic often revealed more than the rigid structures of a library text.
Once inside the Gryffindor common room, the difference in atmosphere hit immediately. The space was warm, filled with laughter, chatter, and the occasional burst of magical mischief from younger students who had not yet been called to attention by prefects. Percy Weasley, sitting near the fireplace with an attentive air, raised a brow as he noticed Evelyn step in. "A Ravenclaw in the Gryffindor common room," he remarked, voice tinged with both curiosity and mild disapproval. "Not something you see every day, especially during research hours." Hermione practically beamed at him. "She's helping us with something very important," she said, gesturing to Evelyn. "You might learn a thing or two if you listen carefully." Evelyn offered a polite nod, settling into a nearby chair with her notebook on her lap. She was used to being the center of attention in her own house only for her intellect, and here she realized that her presence, even among Gryffindors, carried a different kind of visibility.
The conversation quickly returned to Nicolas Flamel, as Hermione launched into a recapitulation of the leads they had collected in the library. "The journals indicate symbolic signatures, not direct author names," Hermione explained, pointing at a page from one of the alchemical periodicals. "It seems that Flamel often embedded instructions or key points in the artwork accompanying the formulas. Some of these illustrations might actually encode the sequence of steps for creating or reinforcing certain magical substances." Evelyn leaned in, studying the delicate sketches. She noted how certain lines repeated in patterns, how the shapes of mystical flames corresponded with practical applications she had learned in charms class, and how the distribution of color in ink might mirror the principles she had observed in Lumos variants.
Harry and Ron, seated on the opposite side of the room, listened with a mixture of fascination and frustration. "You're saying we have to decode pictures to find Flamel?" Ron asked incredulously. "It's like a scavenger hunt, but with a hundred-year-old wizard hiding the rules." Harry smiled faintly. "It's more than a scavenger hunt," he said, "it's a test of observation and logic. That's why we need her." He gave a subtle nod toward Evelyn, acknowledging the precision with which she could parse the illustrations. Evelyn's cheeks flushed lightly; she was not used to being singled out, yet she did not shy from the responsibility. She carefully traced the illustrations with her fingertip, recognizing the same subtle principles that governed her own spell work: the balance of intent, structure, and reinforcement.
Amid the discussion, Evelyn's mind drifted momentarily to her ongoing struggle with Nox, stuck frustratingly at 19%. She compared it silently to their search for Flamel—both required patience, observation, and creative reasoning to break through a plateau that seemed otherwise insurmountable. She realized that magical mastery was not always about brute force or repetition; it was about noticing subtle cues, reading patterns, and applying principles from one domain to another. This realization only strengthened her resolve, though the moment was brief as Hermione interrupted her reverie. "Evelyn, what do you think? Could the cyan ink in these illustrations indicate reinforcement points?" Hermione asked, eyes alight with curiosity. Evelyn nodded, explaining her observations, carefully translating the patterns into possible practical applications without ever revealing her internal magical system or percentage-based metrics.
The part of the conversation that followed became a mix of excitement and analysis. Evelyn pointed out structural consistencies in the illustrations, noting how certain arcs and lines mimicked reinforcement patterns she had seen in Shieldum Praesidium. Hermione scribbled notes furiously, while Harry and Ron debated the practicality of each proposed lead. Even Percy, observing from the corner, seemed intrigued despite his initial skepticism. By the time the conversation drew to a close, a plan had formed: they would continue the search for Flamel in even older, more obscure tomes the next day, cross-referencing symbolic illustrations with known magical principles. Evelyn tucked her notebook under her arm, feeling both the weight of the task and the excitement of new discoveries. She was reminded once again that magical knowledge often required patience and careful observation, whether the goal was unraveling centuries-old mysteries or finally pushing a spell past its stubborn limits.
Back in the quiet of the Ravenclaw Tower, Evelyn finally had a moment to herself. The sun had dipped lower, painting the room with a muted amber light that streamed through the tall, arched windows. Sitting cross-legged on her bed with her wand laid carefully across her lap, she tried to focus entirely on the stubborn spell that had been resisting her for days: Nox. Despite hours of careful practice, observation, and mental rehearsal, the percentage of mastery had remained stubbornly frozen at 19%. It was a frustrating plateau, one that she had managed to overcome before with Lumos—but Lumos had a clear reference point in Lumos Maxima. Nox had no such counterpart, and the sensation of failure pricked at her mind. She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, attempting to trace the path of her wand movement and the intent she felt, searching for the subtle misalignment that might be holding her back.
Hermione's knock on the door was soft but insistent. "Evelyn, I know you're working, but can we talk for a moment?" she asked, poking her head through the doorway. Evelyn gave a small nod, gesturing for her to come in. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with intense curiosity. "I've been thinking about what you did with Shieldum last night," Hermione began, eyes sparkling with fascination. "The way you structured it… it's unlike anything we've seen in first-year charms. I've been trying to understand the mechanics, but I can't get my head around how the spell… well, functions." Evelyn smiled faintly. "It's mostly a matter of intent and control," she explained carefully, keeping her description to observable elements only. "The movement is deliberate, precise. The wand directs the focus of protective energy outward, and the emotion driving it… well, that shapes the spell itself. But beyond that, it's hard to put into words without practicing it yourself." Hermione leaned back slightly, impressed. "So it's not a standard spell at all. That's… incredible." Evelyn nodded, feeling the quiet satisfaction of recognition, though she could not reveal the system behind her insight.
Turning back to Nox, Evelyn flexed her fingers around her wand. She traced the motion she had practiced countless times, imagining the thread of darkness curling from the tip of her wand and dissipating at will. She tried altering her internal visualization, thinking about density, intensity, and the subtle constraints that had kept her from passing 19%. Yet every time she cast it, the result was the same: dim, controlled light suppression, but no expansion beyond the known limit. She realized she would have to rely on observation and experimentation outside the classroom, analyzing spells like Lumos Maxima for structural cues without directly copying them. Every adjustment she made brought a slight improvement in fluidity or control, but it was incremental. The spell was teaching her patience in ways she hadn't anticipated.
Hermione watched carefully, occasionally asking questions about subtle differences she noticed in Evelyn's hand movements. "It seems like the wrist angle makes a difference," Hermione observed, leaning closer. "Even a slight twist changes the shadow thread's projection." Evelyn nodded, encouraging Hermione to notice the finer points without giving away her internal percentages. "Yes, exactly," she said. "Subtle shifts alter the energy distribution, and intent needs to match that movement. If your focus wavers, the spell won't reach full effect." It was an intricate dance between the wand, the energy, and the mind—one that required as much observation as execution.
By the time the afternoon shadows had lengthened across the Ravenclaw Tower, Evelyn finally leaned back and allowed herself a quiet moment of reflection. She was aware that, while she could not yet advance Nox past 19%, the experience was teaching her far more about magical flow, control, and the interplay of intent than mere raw power could. There was a lesson in patience, in understanding the structure behind a spell, and in recognizing the invisible barriers that had to be navigated before real mastery could occur. She tucked her wand beside her and allowed herself a small, focused smile. Tomorrow, she would return to practice, observing and adjusting, confident that the breakthrough was coming—even if it remained just beyond the threshold for now.
The next morning, the students filed into Charms class with the usual mix of anticipation and weariness, but there was an unusual energy buzzing in the room. Professor Flitwick, normally meticulous and punctual with his lesson plans, appeared unusually animated as he welcomed the first-years. "Today, we are going to deviate slightly from our standard schedule," he announced, twinkling eyes scanning the room. Evelyn, seated near the front alongside Hermione and the others, leaned forward in curiosity. Deviate from Wingardium Leviosa? That was highly irregular, especially in November, when standard exercises should still have them practicing precise feather levitation. A ripple of curiosity passed through the class; even the Gryffindors exchanged intrigued glances, and Evelyn felt the familiar hum of anticipation in her chest.
Flitwick's hands danced in the air as he continued, excitement practically radiating from him. "You may have heard some news—perhaps in the Daily Prophet, or in the whispers of the Hogwarts corridors. A spell recently discovered and framed by the Charms Guild as fourth-year material… has now become the focus of our lesson. Evelyn, perhaps you can assist in demonstrating this particular enchantment?" A soft flush of surprise crossed her face, but she nodded, understanding the delicate balance required. She did not reveal anything about her system, percentages, or shards, but she would show what she knew through motion and practice. The class leaned in, and Evelyn carefully positioned her wand, repeating the precise movements she had used the previous night when the spell—now known formally as Shieldum—had protected her and her friends.
As she demonstrated the spell, Flitwick watched intently, his small frame vibrating with delight. "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed. "Notice the precision, the focused intent, and the outward radiance of protective energy. This is unlike standard first-year charms. It is structured, layered, and driven by emotion—in this case, protectiveness. Observe how even slight deviations in wand movement can weaken or strengthen the barrier." Evelyn mirrored the motions again, explaining in careful terms the observable mechanics: the outward sweeping motion, the precise flicks, and the incantation she had crafted to anchor the intent. She did not discuss her system, percentages, or shards; her description remained accessible to her peers and to Flitwick's expert eye.
Flitwick then demonstrated the two variants recently discovered by the Charms Guild: one amplified for defensive endurance, slightly broader than Shieldum itself, and the other a hybrid merging Shieldum with the principles of Protego, though not as magically sophisticated as Protego itself. He allowed the students to observe closely, explaining how the first variant extended the protective radius slightly, while the hybrid variant prioritized directional strength, capable of deflecting physical projectiles with greater efficiency. Evelyn watched with a keen eye, taking mental notes on each nuance, already thinking about how these variations would influence her own future experimentation. For her, it was another window into understanding structure, intent, and reinforcement, even if her magical core could only register them at 1% for now.
The room was abuzz with discussion as Flitwick fielded questions from curious students. Hermione asked about the emotional resonance necessary for the spell, and Evelyn carefully clarified what she could describe: that the protective intent must be genuine, concentrated, and consistent, and that the wand movement acted as a conduit for that emotion. Harry and Ron looked impressed, though Harry kept his questions pointed toward practical application while Ron's curiosity leaned toward how it might be used in duels. Even the older students craned their necks, fascinated by a first-year spell that was officially recognized by the Charms Guild and now demonstrated by its creator. By the time the lesson concluded, the room was filled with a tangible sense of awe; students had glimpsed something that was normally considered beyond their year, and the implications for magical understanding rippled silently through every observer.
Evelyn, though exhausted from the mental exertion, felt a quiet satisfaction. She had shown the spell's structure, explained its mechanics, and presented the intent without exposing the intricacies of her system. Flitwick clapped his hands delightedly, praising her demonstration and stressing the significance of creative spellwork driven by intent. The lesson ended with a discussion of future exploration, and he reminded them that while mastery was not immediate, observation, experimentation, and precise emotional focus would expand their understanding over time. As the students filed out of the classroom, murmurs of fascination followed her; even without revealing her hidden metrics, Evelyn had managed to convey both the sophistication of her spell and the underlying principles of protective enchantments.
By mid-morning, the commotion from Charms class had not yet settled. News of Shieldum and its variants spread quickly through Hogwarts, carried on whispers, eager students' footsteps, and the occasional owl fluttering through the castle. Evelyn found herself once again sitting in the Gryffindor common room, this time surrounded by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, while the early delivery of letters began. The first to arrive was a crisp, official envelope embossed with the Charms Guild insignia. Evelyn's fingers trembled slightly as she broke the seal. Inside, formal congratulations awaited her: recognition for the discovery of Shieldum, acknowledgment of its efficacy, and instructions for setting up a bank account to manage any future research royalties. She absorbed the information carefully, noting the practicality of the magical bureaucracy. Her Muggle-born status was officially recognized, but it carried no weight in judgment—only a confirmation of her newfound standing in the magical world.
Before she could fully process the implications, another letter arrived, this one from Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Evelyn opened it with growing curiosity, discovering that she now had a secure vault in the goblin-controlled territory, complete with a key encoded to her magical signature. The vault itself was described in exquisite detail, reinforced with both protective enchantments and mechanical intricacy. It was intended to store not only her financial resources but also any magical research, fragments, or artifacts that she might acquire during her studies. The sheer scale of responsibility made her pause for a moment. Unlike anything she had encountered in her Muggle life, this was both a privilege and a weighty obligation.
At that moment, the Daily Prophet arrived, carried in bundles by a flurry of owls. Evelyn carefully unfolded the morning paper, eyes widening at the front-page coverage. Her spell was headline material: a first-year's creation, already officially recognized by the Charms Guild, compared in structure and intent to spells usually reserved for fourth-year study. The article outlined the protective properties of Shieldum, discussing its mechanics and subtle variations without revealing the incantation or execution, and praised the ingenuity behind the emotional focus required to cast it. Whispers erupted throughout the common room as students from different houses caught glimpses, some excited, others astonished. Gryffindors looked inspired; Hufflepuffs were impressed by her initiative; Ravenclaws were quietly proud that one of their own had achieved such recognition. Even the Slytherins murmured disdain, particularly Draco Malfoy, who now found his preconceptions about her challenged in ways he did not like.
The final letter of the morning arrived in the form of the Charms Guild's magazine. This special edition was dedicated entirely to recent discoveries and innovations in magical charms. Evelyn's Shieldum took center stage, discussed in full detail regarding its mechanics, intent, and structural framework. The magazine did not include the casting instructions, but the coverage cemented her status as a remarkable first-year innovator. Students crowded around, flipping pages and debating the implications, while Evelyn, still seated with her friends, quietly absorbed the attention. It was a whirlwind of recognition that she had never experienced before, and though the scrutiny was intense, she felt the thrill of being acknowledged for her work.
The ripple of attention reached the staff as well. Albus Dumbledore observed quietly from the staff table, noting Evelyn's talent and the positive influence she seemed to have on Harry and his friends. Professor McGonagall, ever attentive to house dynamics, recognized Evelyn's brilliance and her growing rapport with Gryffindor students, particularly Hermione, as a bridge across the house divide. Professor Snape's eyes narrowed in the direction of her table, calculating and critical as always; he could see her potential, though he clearly disliked that such a gifted student was so closely associated with Potter and his friends. Even Professor Quirrell, ever preoccupied with his own machinations, glanced at the coverage with an almost bemused interest. The attention was unavoidable and thorough, and Evelyn realized that her carefully constructed effort to remain in the background was now completely obsolete. She was no longer merely a Ravenclaw student quietly excelling—she was a first-year innovator drawing attention from all corners of the school.
Despite the overwhelming response, Evelyn remained composed. She spoke with Harry, Ron, and Hermione about the articles and letters, clarifying what could be discussed in class versus what remained her own observation. She marveled quietly at the careful structure of the magical world: how recognition, documentation, and formal publication of magical innovation were intertwined. The Charms Guild had formalized a process for ensuring proper acknowledgment, reinforcing her understanding that magical discovery was both an art and a regulated practice. The letters, the articles, and the guild coverage were all evidence of that. And while the attention was enormous, Evelyn also sensed the subtle opportunity it offered: not just recognition, but access, influence, and the ability to continue her research with the security of official oversight and acknowledgment.
The following day, Charms class began with an air of expectation that had not been present before. The news of Shieldum's recognition and the attention it had garnered through the Charms Guild had traveled swiftly, and students filed in with a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and quiet envy. Professor Flitwick, ever precise yet visibly thrilled, stood at the front of the classroom with a spark of excitement in his eyes. "Today, we will explore the remarkable innovations of Shieldum," he began, his voice clear and jubilant. "As some of you may know, the Charms Guild has tested several variants of this first-year spell, and I believe there is much we can learn from observing its mechanics firsthand." Evelyn, seated near the front alongside Hermione and Harry, could feel the weight of attention settling over her, though she remained composed, prepared to demonstrate what she could without revealing the inner workings of her system.
Flitwick gestured for Evelyn to demonstrate Shieldum, and she carefully positioned her wand, repeating the movements she had practiced in the Ravenclaw Tower. She spoke aloud the incantation, explaining the observable mechanics as she cast: the outward sweep of the wand, the alignment of her wrist, and the focused intent of protectiveness. The classroom was quiet except for the hum of magical energy as the barrier radiated from her wand, translucent but visibly potent. Flitwick's eyes gleamed, and he clapped his hands together in delight. "Exquisite! Notice the structural integrity, the layered nature of the protection, and the emotion-driven reinforcement. This is not merely a defensive spell; it is a testament to how intent and structure converge to form potent magic." The other students watched in awe, murmuring among themselves as they tried to grasp the implications of a first-year's spell being demonstrated with such efficacy.
Next, Flitwick introduced the two variants recently identified by the Charms Guild. The first variant amplified the radius and durability of the Shieldum barrier, allowing for sustained protection against larger physical impacts. The second variant, a hybrid between Shieldum and Protego, emphasized strength in a localized area, capable of deflecting projectiles and other physical attacks with remarkable precision. Flitwick demonstrated each, allowing the students to observe carefully. Evelyn's heart swelled with quiet pride, even as she realized that her magical core could only register these variants at 1% effectiveness. Yet the observation alone offered invaluable insight: the layering of intent, the subtle adjustments in wand movement, and the interplay of protective energy could all be analyzed, stored mentally, and experimented with once she gained greater mastery.
Discussion in the classroom was lively. Hermione asked insightful questions about the limitations of the variants and how emotional focus shaped the protective barriers. Harry, ever pragmatic, inquired about practical applications in dueling scenarios, while Ron's curiosity centered on whether Shieldum could deflect or resist different forms of physical attacks. Flitwick, patient and animated, explained that while the first variant excelled in radius, the hybrid variant's strength was concentrated, ideal for targeted protection. Evelyn contributed by clarifying observable mechanics and emphasizing consistency of intent, avoiding any mention of her internal system. The students absorbed every detail, and the energy in the room reflected both excitement and awe for a first-year's achievement now formally recognized and explored.
By the end of the lesson, Evelyn had added both variants to her growing mental list of spells, noting that they were, for now, locked at 1% effectiveness, much like any other spell beyond her current capability. Flitwick concluded the class with an encouraging lecture about the importance of innovation, observation, and careful study in magical development. He stressed that while mastery comes with time and practice, the creation and formal recognition of a spell—even by a first-year—demonstrated the limitless possibilities within magical study. Evelyn left the classroom quietly exhilarated, aware that she had witnessed her own creation elevated to the attention of both her peers and the broader magical community, while also understanding that her journey in refining and mastering these protective spells had only just begun.
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