Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter; all of it belongs to J.K. Rowling, and I'm just a high schooler in her Harry Potter era. But I do own the OCs. And English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical mistakes.

Give me feedback and suggestions. It will really help! It's my first fanfiction, after all, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Chapter 3

Asphodel

Sebastian moved slowly through the dimly lit hallway, the soft carpet beneath his feet muffling every step. The house, usually full of warmth and comfort, now felt stifling. The familiar walls seemed to press in on him, the very air thick with an unspoken tension that had settled over everything. In the past few days, something had shifted. His parents had become distant—forced smiles, absent eyes. They spoke in hushed tones, and though they tried to hide it, Sebastian could feel it.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

His heart drummed steadily in his chest as he approached his parents' bedroom. The door, always left slightly ajar, was closed tight. He reached for the handle, testing it gently, but it didn't budge. Locked. His brow furrowed. His parents never locked their door. Even when he was small, they left it open for him to crawl into their bed when the dark or his nightmares became too much.

*Badump... Badump...* His heartbeat echoed in the silence.

Standing on his toes, he pressed his eye to the keyhole, squinting to catch a glimpse beyond. Shadows danced on the other side, twisting and merging into a blur of darkness. Then, a voice—cold, menacing, and unforgiving—whispered words that chilled him to the bone.

"Avada Kedavra."

A blinding flash of green light filled his vision, burning it into his memory before everything went black.

Sebastian Ravenwood sat bolt upright in bed, his breath ragged and his skin damp with sweat. The early morning light filtered through the curtains of the dormitory, casting faint shadows across the room. His heart still raced, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to him like a suffocating fog. He ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair and glanced around. His dorm mates were fast asleep, undisturbed by his restlessness.

He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. There was still time before breakfast—plenty of time to gather himself.

With slow, deliberate movements, Sebastian packed his bag, slipping in a few books and his wand. He pulled on his robes, pausing for a moment as his fingers brushed against the locket tucked under his shirt. His grip tightened on it for just a second before he let go.

He heard Anthony Goldstein shifted and groaned.

Quietly, he left the dormitory, the door closing softly behind him. As he descended the spiral staircase into the Ravenclaw common room, the castle felt unusually serene. The sky outside the enchanted windows was a soft gradient of dawn hues, casting a peaceful glow over the room. Hogwarts in the early hours was different—quiet, alive with a kind of magic that felt ancient, waiting to be discovered.

Sebastian wandered the empty corridors, his footsteps echoing faintly off the stone walls. His mind wandered back to the dream, the flash of green light, and the curse. He couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just a product of his imagination—that it was something deeper. The night his father died had left scars, scars that often resurfaced in the strangest ways.

He sighed, forcing himself to focus on the present. He had only been at Hogwarts for a day, but already the castle felt like a maze of mysteries. Every turn held the promise of discovery, and despite the lingering weight of the nightmare, there was something about the ancient walls that made him feel more alive than ever.

Before long, he found himself outside the Great Hall. The smell of breakfast wafted through the air, warm and inviting. Stepping inside, he saw that only a few students had arrived. The enchanted ceiling above reflected the morning sky, casting a soft, golden light over the long tables.

At the Ravenclaw table, Hermione sat alone, her head buried in a thick book. A small smile tugged at the corner of Sebastian's mouth as he slid onto the bench beside her.

"Morning," he greeted, reaching for some toast.

"Morning," she mumbled, her eyes still glued to the pages. "I'm going over our Transfiguration material. I have no idea what to expect. It seems complicated, doesn't it?"

Sebastian nodded, though his mind was still half-distracted by the night's events. "Yeah. I hear McGonagall's supposed to be brilliant, though."

At that moment, Anthony, one of their dorm mates, slumped down on the bench across from them, yawning widely. "I've heard she's alright, but crazy strict. Just make sure you don't mess around in her class, and you'll be fine."

Sebastian smiled faintly, turning his attention to Anthony. "What's going on with your hair?" he asked, pointing out the odd mix of smooth patches and electrocuted strands sticking up at odd angles.

Anthony groaned, running his hands through the disaster. "I tried a new gel. My mum bought it, but I think it's a scam. Look at this mess."

Hermione chuckled lightly, finally looking up from her book. "So... Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and then a free period at the end. That doesn't sound too bad." She smiled, rolled up her schedule, and took a final sip of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, should be alright," Sebastian replied, distracted once again as his fingers subconsciously reached for the locket under his robes. He felt its cool surface against his skin but made no move to reveal it.

"Come on, we don't want to be late," Hermione said brightly, standing and gathering her things.

Sebastian and Anthony followed suit, and the trio made their way out of the Great Hall, ready to face their first real day at Hogwarts.

Transfiguration classroom

The Transfiguration classroom was larger and more imposing than Sebastian had imagined. Tall windows let in beams of soft light, casting shadows across rows of desks. At the front of the room, Professor McGonagall stood tall and straight, her eyes sharp as she watched each student take their seat.

Sebastian sat sandwiched between Hermione and Anthony who forsome reason stay with them .

Her mere presence commanded respect. Once everyone was settled, she wasted no time.

"Before we start with any spell, you need to learn the basics—the dos and don'ts and the be or not to be." A piece of chalk obediently flew to the board and began scribbling key points as she spoke.

"First things first, what is Transfiguration? Anyone?" Hermione's hand shot up immediately. McGonagall didn't hesitate.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Transfiguration is the magical art of changing the form or appearance of an object or being into something else," Hermione replied crisply.

McGonagall smiled approvingly. "Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw. However, that's merely what your textbook tells you—and believe me, it barely scratches the surface of what Transfiguration truly is." Her eyes swept across the class, taking in their eager but apprehensive faces.

"Transfiguration is one of the most noble and complex areas of magic. Many are unable to master more than the basics. Even the simplest transfiguration spell requires complete concentration. A slight mistake can lead to dangerous, sometimes catastrophic results."

Sebastian leaned forward in his seat, listening intently. The words "catastrophic results" echoed in his mind like a warning. McGonagall's tone sharpened.

This is just a word of warning before any of you get bright ideas and decide to skip over the basics to try your hand at more advanced spells: don't. The chalkboard filled with bulleted points, but Sebastian barely registered them.

His focus was on McGonagall. There was a gravity in her words that made him sit up straighter.

It is absolutely vital to understand the fundamentals of magic, especially in Transfiguration. Attempting anything beyond your understanding will only lead you to St. Mungo's, if you're lucky.

A few nervous chuckles rippled through the room, but McGonagall silenced them with a glance. "If you'd like a true example, turn to page four of your textbook."

Sebastian opened his book, and his stomach churned at the grotesque images that filled the page. Photographs of witches and wizards with extra limbs, gaping holes in their bodies, and decaying heads stared back at him. The worst part? The images moved. Blood gushed out, limbs twitched. Sebastian quickly flipped the page down to cover the worst of it, feeling a wave of nausea. Magic, at times, could be horrifying.

Around him, students reacted similarly. Several held their mouths, and Lisa Turpin gagged.

McGonagall's voice broke through the collective unease. "This is what happens when you experiment recklessly with Transfiguration."

She turned to Anthony Goldstein. "Mr. Goldstein."

Anthony straightened in his seat, looking anxious. "Yes, Professor?"

"In your opinion, what is the most important thing in learning Transfiguration?" Anthony scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Transfiguration requires wand work, spell casting ability, and... the knowledge of the object you're transfiguring?" McGonagall nodded, though there was a glint in her eye. "True enough. But there's something more elusive at play. Transfiguration is not a simple matter of waving your wand and muttering the right words. Pointing and flapping your arms will get you nowhere."

With a flick of her wand, she gestured toward the statue of a lion at the back of the classroom.

The students collectively held their breath, waiting for something dramatic to happen—but nothing did. McGonagall turned back to the class, her lips pressed in a thin line of amusement.

"Transfiguration is more than just incantations." Then, with a subtle, graceful flick, the lion statue shimmered. Slowly, as if awakening from a long slumber, the stone lion moved. Its mane rippled like a living creature's, and its eyes glowed molten gold.

The class gasped as the lion let out a low, majestic growl before McGonagall flicked her wand again, turning it back into lifeless stone.

Hermione's eyes sparkled with admiration. Sebastian, though impressed, felt a deeper unease stirring within him. Transfiguration wasn't just about magic; it was about control.

One wrong move could twist something beautiful into something monstrous. "Now, turn to page seven," McGonagall continued. "We'll begin with the basics." As they did, tiny matchsticks appeared in front of each student.

Sebastian felt the tension in the room rise. This was their first practical attempt at Transfiguration, and the stakes were clear. Hermione, seated beside him, leaned in with barely contained excitement.

"Wow, this is so exciting," she whispered, her eyes bright with anticipation. Anthony gave her a half-smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Exciting, or terrifying?"

"Both," she grinned. "But we'll be fine. Just focus." Anthony and Sebastian nodded, though Sebastian couldn't shake the slight nervousness gnawing at him. He flexed his fingers over his wand, taking a deep breath. No mistakes.

McGonagall's voice rang out again, firm but encouraging. "Your journey in Transfiguration will not be easy, but with effort and precision, you will master it."

As they walked down the corridor, heading to their next class, Hermione was the first to break the silence.

"That was incredible," she said, her eyes still wide with awe.

"Couldn't agree more" Anthony who had managed to turn his matchstick into a malformed needle smiled.

"Yeah," Sebastian agreed, his mind still reeling from the display. "Incredible... "

Hermione laughed softly, her excitement palpable. "I've read about Transfiguration before, but it's so much more complicated than I imagined."

"Definitely not something you can learn just from reading," Sebastian said, glancing over at her. "But we did all right."

"Hmm.." Anthony said cooly. As Hrmoine rolled her eyes.

"I Hope so." Hermione smiled, her nerves from earlier seeming to fade. "I guess we just need to be ready for whatever comes next."

Sebastian nodded but then gave her a sidelong glance. "I heard we've got Potions with Gryffindor next. I wonder what they're like."

Hermione's eyebrows raised slightly. "I've read about Gryffindor," she said thoughtfully. "They're supposed to be brave, daring... I hope they're not too reckless."

"Don't worry, my great aunt had a Gryffindor friend and she said they are the most hot-headed but kind ones." Anthony said calmly.

Sebastian's jaw tightened slightly. "I wouldn't worry about Gryffindor," he said in a lower tone. "It's Snape we'll have to deal with. I'm not looking forward to it."

Hermione glanced at him, surprised by his sharpness. "Why not?" Sebastian shrugged, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable. "Just a bad feeling about him, that's all."

Hermione didn't push further, though she looked thoughtful. "I suppose we'll see soon enough."

They fell into silence, though the weight of the conversation lingered. As they made their way to the Potions classroom, the cold, stone corridors seemed to echo Sebastian's unease. He couldn't shake the sense that meeting Snape would stir something unpleasant deep within him.

The atmosphere in the dungeon was oppressive, the low, flickering light of torches casting long shadows against the cold, stone walls. Professor Snape moved like a dark specter, his black robes trailing behind him like ominous storm clouds. His gaze swept across the room with predatory precision, landing on each student with a cold disdain that made everyone sit a little straighter, hearts pounding in their chests. Snape wasn't a professor to be trifled with, and the students knew it.

"Here, there will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations, Each year little brats like all of you comes with more dissapointment than the last, that I can hardly believe this is the most prestigious magical school in Britain ," he began, his voice smooth and dangerous, filling the dungeon.

"I can teach you to 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... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

His dark eyes flicked sharply to Harry Potter, the tension in the room rising instantly. "Hmmm?" His head tilted like a lion ready to hunt it's prey. "Harry Potter, our new celebrity...Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry blinked, clearly bewildered. The silence in the dungeon was palpable, everyone waiting for Harry's inevitable humiliation. But before he could stammer out a reply, a calm, measured voice broke through the tense stillness.

"Asphodel and wormwood create the Draught of Living Death," Sebastian said smoothly, his voice unwavering. Every head in the room turned toward him.

Snape's expression darkened as his gaze snapped to Sebastian. The silence thickened, anticipation hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

"Correct," Snape said softly, though his voice was laced with cold venom. "But I wasn't asking you, Mr..." His eyes scanned through the attendance paper. "Ravenwood."

Sebastian met Snape's gaze without flinching. "I thought it might help move the lesson along, Professor."

A muscle in Snape's jaw twitched. His lips curled into a sneer. "How very efficient of you. Ten points from Ravenclaw for your insolence."

Several Ravenclaws shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Some exchanged uneasy glances, a few whispering complaints under their breath. The Ravenclaws had already begun to feel the weight of Sebastian's defiance.

But Snape wasn't finished. He returned his sharp gaze to Harry. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

Before Harry could speak, Sebastian answered again, his voice steady, almost provocative. "A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat. But I prefer to get it from an apothecary."

Snape's eyes flashed with irritation, and his sneer deepened into something darker. "Twenty points from Ravenclaw for your persistent interruptions, Ravenwood," Snape said icily. He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the cold air before adding, "I suppose your father's arrogance didn't teach you much about respect."

The room grew deadly quiet. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees. The students, especially the Ravenclaws, froze, eyes flicking to Sebastian, expecting an eruption of anger. But there was no outburst, no heated retort. Sebastian remained perfectly composed, his expression calm. Only his fingers, clenched ever so slightly around his quill, betrayed the ripple of controlled anger beneath his cool exterior.

' Don't punch him in the face, Don't punch him in the face, Don't punch him in the face,Don't punch him in the face'

Sebastian held Snape's gaze, his eyes calm but slightly narrowed, a subtle spark of something dangerous flickering in their depths. The anger was there, but it was contained, masked so expertly that most wouldn't notice. But Snape did.

"Ten more points for your lack of humility," Snape added, his voice a cold hiss. "It seems you share more with your father than just his name." The last words dripped with malice, and though Snape's satisfaction was evident, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze, as if testing how far he could push.

The Ravenclaws around Sebastian exchanged nervous looks, some of them visibly agitated. "Stop, Sebastian," Anthony whispered urgently. "By the end of this, we won't even have a chance to place third this year."

Sebastian, however, ignored the murmurs of his housemates. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, and his fingers finally relaxed their grip on the quill. He breathed deeply, his eyes never leaving Snape.

Snape, seemingly annoyed by Sebastian's unflinching demeanor, turned to Harry again. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Sebastian answered once more before Harry could even process the question. "They're the same plant, also known as aconite."

The tension in the dungeon was almost suffocating now, every student on edge. Snape's sneer widened, frustration briefly flashing across his face. "Another ten points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Ravenwood. It seems you're determined to drag your house down with you."

The Ravenclaws winced collectively, now visibly upset by the rapid loss of points. "He's ruining our chances," someone muttered, while others glanced nervously at Sebastian, unsure of what was driving his defiance.

Snape's gaze flicked to the murmuring Ravenclaws, then back to Sebastian. "Perhaps you think you're too clever for your own good, Ravenwood," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "But I would advise you to remember that cleverness without wisdom often leads to... unfortunate ends. As I'm sure your family would know all too well."

The jab lingered in the air, malicious and sharp. But Sebastian, once again, didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed just a fraction, his calm exterior unwavering, though the intensity behind his gaze seemed to harden.

Snape smirked, his eyes glinting with cold satisfaction as he turned away, directing the class to continue brewing their potions. Yet, every so often, his gaze flicked back to Sebastian, the tension between them unspoken but palpable.

The rest of the class passed in tense silence, though everyone could feel it—this wasn't over.

The stone corridors of Hogwarts felt colder than usual as Sebastian, Anthony and Hermione walked side by side after Potions class. Hermione's steps were quick and her expression sharp, clearly still fuming over what had just transpired with Snape. Sebastian, however, seemed detached, his hand absentmindedly toying with a silver locket hidden in his pocket.

"That...was quite unnecessary man." Anthony akwardly said as he saw the burning anger of a lion in Hermione's eyes. "I guess I'll leave it to you Hermione." He smiled "Good luck man... but I'm not about to be burned by female anger on my fist day." and dashed away in such a hurry you would think he drank some speed potion or something beforehand.

"Sebastian," Hermione started, her voice tight with frustration. "You can't keep doing that! Snape took fifty points from Ravenclaw. Fifty! We're barely holding onto third place now, all because of you!"

Sebastian remained silent, his fingers tracing the cool, smooth surface of the locket in his pocket. He didn't meet her gaze, instead focusing on the ground ahead of him, his mind elsewhere.

"Are you even listening to me?" Hermione's voice rose slightly, her eyes searching his face for any sign of a reaction. "I get that you don't like him, but you can't keep talking back! It's not just about you. It affects all of us."

He still said nothing, though his grip on the locket tightened briefly before loosening again, the chain slipping through his fingers. His expression stayed calm, composed, as though her words hadn't registered at all.

Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, boys. You always do this. Avoid the real issue, pretend nothing's wrong." She glanced sideways at him, waiting for some form of acknowledgment, but when he remained quiet, she just sighed. "What's the point of arguing if you're not even going to respond?"

Sebastian finally looked at her, his lips curling into a soft, faint smile. "It wasn't that serious," he said, voice light, almost dismissive, as if Snape's insults and the loss of house points were just trivial annoyances.

"Not that serious?" Hermione repeated, incredulous. "You can get in so much trouble just because you can't lower your ego just a bit!, and you think it's not serious?"

He shrugged. "We'll win them back," he said casually, his hand still fidgeting with the locket in his pocket. He didn't offer more, avoiding the weight of the conversation as effortlessly as he always did.

Hermione narrowed her eyes but stopped short of pushing him further. "You could've let Harry answer. You didn't need to jump in and make things worse."

Sebastian's gaze flicked away, his thumb still idly tracing the edge of the locket, feeling its weight in his hand. "Maybe," he murmured, clearly uninterested in continuing the argument. His tone was calm, devoid of the frustration that Hermione clearly felt.

She threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine, whatever. I'm not going to get through to you, am I?" She muttered something under her breath, then added, "You boys always think you can handle everything on your own."

He didn't respond, his fingers gently rolling the locket between them, his focus entirely on the smooth metal in his hand. Hermione sighed again, more resigned this time, and glanced at him.

"Next time, at least try not to start a war with a professor," she said, her voice softening. "Just... keep your cool, okay? Don't drag yourself into trouble."

Sebastian gave a small nod, still quiet, but this time the smile that tugged at his lips seemed a little more genuine.

Hermione looked at him, studying his face for a moment longer before shrugging. "Boys," she muttered, rolling her eyes, "It's our first day and I already have a feeling that I'll never understand you."

As they continued walking, Hermione's frustration slowly faded, her focus shifting to their next class. Sebastian, however, remained distant, his hand still wrapped around the locket in his pocket. The metal was cool against his palm, a quiet presence, grounding him even as he avoided the conversation altogether.

Hermione, oblivious to the significance of the object in his hand, simply shrugged off his behavior as a "boy thing," and the two of them walked on, the tension easing with each step.

Though the conversation had ended, Sebastian's fingers stayed wrapped around the locket, the weight of it offering a silent comfort only he understood.

Sebastian leaned against the cold stone wall of the corridor, watching as Hermione disappeared around the corner. Her lecture had been firm but well-meaning, reminding him that picking battles with Snape on day one wasn't worth it—especially at the cost of so many house points or even worse detention. Her words still echoed in his mind, though Sebastian had chosen to remain silent, simply nodding as she walked away.

He exhaled quietly, his fingers instinctively reaching under his robes, where they found the familiar weight of the locket he always carried. His thumb traced the smooth edges, a subtle habit he found oddly comforting, though no one else ever seemed to notice.

Sebastian leaned against the cold stone wall of the corridor, watching as Hermione disappeared around the corner. Her lecture had been firm but well-meaning, reminding him that picking battles with Snape on day one wasn't worth it—especially at the cost of so many house points. Her words still echoed in his mind, though Sebastian had chosen to remain silent, simply nodding as she walked away.

Just as he was about to lose himself in thought, a voice interrupted the quiet of the hallway.

"Hey, uh, Sebastian, right?"

Sebastian glanced up to see a messy-haired boy standing a few feet away, his glasses slightly askew and his expression uncertain. It was Harry Potter—he'd recognize him anywhere, even if they'd barely exchanged a word all day.

"Yes?" Sebastian replied, his tone calm but guarded, his fingers still toying with the hidden locket.

"I, uh… saw what happened back there in Potions," Harry began, shuffling awkwardly as if unsure of how to proceed. "That was… pretty rough. Snape's got it out for you already, huh?"

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle, though there was little humor in it. "Yeah, seems like it."

Harry fidgeted for a moment, then took a tentative step closer. "I just wanted to say thanks. You, uh, kind of saved me back there. I had no idea what Snape was asking."

Sebastian gave a small, tired smile. "It's no problem. You were in a pickle back there so I just jumped in."

Harry looked relieved, though still slightly unsure of himself. "Yeah, well, I appreciate it. I probably would've made a fool of myself if you hadn't spoken up."

"Don't mention it," Sebastian replied, his fingers still lightly brushing against the hidden locket beneath his robes. He didn't explain why he had answered Snape's questions, nor did he offer any reason for keeping his emotions in check afterward. That wasn't something he was ready to share with anyone, especially not someone he barely knew.

There was a brief silence, and Harry hesitated before speaking again. "So… that girl back there, the one who gave you a lecture—Is she your sister or something?"

Sebastian glanced down the corridor where Hermione had disappeared moments earlier. "Hermione, we're in the same house. I met her at the train. She's… intense, but smart. I think she means well."

Harry nodded, though his expression showed a mix of curiosity and confusion. "She seems really into… well, everything."

Sebastian smiled faintly. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was clear that Harry wasn't quite sure what to say next, and Sebastian wasn't in the mood to offer any more insight into the strange day they'd just had. But still, there was something comforting in the simplicity of Harry's presence—no expectations, no deep analysis, just a quiet moment between two people who'd been thrown into the same whirlwind of magic and mystery.

"Okay," Harry finally said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess I'll see you around, then?"

Sebastian nodded, his fingers brushing against the locket one last time before letting it go. "Yeah. See you around, Harry."

Harry gave a small smile before turning to head down the hall, his awkwardness fading as he hurried to catch up with the other Gryffindors. Sebastian watched him go, feeling a little lighter, even though the weight of the day still lingered.

As the corridor quieted again, Sebastian let his hand drop to his side, the locket now hidden once more beneath his robes. He wasn't ready to explain why he held onto it so tightly, or what it meant to him. Not yet.

For now, it was just another secret he'd keep to himself.

Dinnertime

The Great Hall buzzed with the vibrant energy of students finishing their first day at Hogwarts. Laughter echoed off the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored the twilight sky, and the tables overflowed with food, a feast fit for young witches and wizards.

Sebastian Ravenwood sat at the Ravenclaw table, picking at his dinner, his thoughts lingering on the earlier confrontation with Snape. The tension in the Potions classroom had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he could still feel Hermione's disappointment echoing in his mind. He scanned the table, searching for her familiar figure.

Antony Goldstein, seated beside him, was animatedly recounting a story about a particularly disastrous attempt at a spell in Charms class. "And then, just as I thought I'd nailed it, I ended up with a feather duster instead of a wand! Can you imagine?"

Sebastian forced a smile, but his heart wasn't in it. His gaze drifted back to the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hermione. She had been avoiding him since their argument, and it gnawed at him.

Just then, Hermione appeared, her head held high, a stack of books clutched against her chest. She made her way toward them, her gaze focused, but for a moment, their eyes met, and Sebastian felt a flicker of hope.

"Hey, Hermione!" Antony greeted cheerfully, gesturing for her to join them.

"Hi, Antony," she replied, her voice steady as she took a seat across from them. Her eyes briefly met Sebastian's, and he held his breath.

"I'm really sorry about earlier," Sebastian started, his heart racing. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," she interrupted gently, her expression softening. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

The warmth in her gaze made his chest tighten with relief. "I'm fine, really. But I'm sorry for causing you any worry."

Hermione smiled, a soft, forgiving smile that lit up her face. "I forgive you, Sebastian. Just be careful next time, alright?"

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "I'll be more cautious."

Antony, who had been quietly observing, leaned forward. "I'm sorry, too. I should have stuck by you when Hermione was about to have a go at you. I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Antony. "You could have at least pretended to be supportive!"

"Hey, I thought it would be best to let you handle it," Antony replied, grinning. "But I guess I could have been more useful."

Sebastian chuckled, the tension between them easing. "It's okay, Antony. Next time, just be ready to jump in if things get hairy."

"Deal!" Antony laughed, and soon the three of them fell into an easy rhythm, sharing stories and jokes that filled the air with laughter.

As dinner continued, Sebastian felt grateful for the friendship they shared- even if it has only be a day. The earlier conflict felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of camaraderie. He caught Hermione's eye across the table, and in that moment, he knew they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

Tuesday September 3rd

Sebastian Ravenwood stood frozen in the courtyard, the soft murmur of students swirling around him as the early morning mist curled along the cobblestones. His gaze lingered on the castle's distant spires, bathed in the pale light of dawn. Yet beneath the serenity, a subtle tension thrummed through him, like an instrument string pulled too tight. For days now, strange flashes had broken through his thoughts—images, feelings, moments not yet lived but felt with an unsettling certainty. They were quick, disorienting, and left him with a nagging sense that something was shifting just out of reach.

"Ravenwood! You off in the clouds again?"

Sebastian blinked, Antony Goldstein's voice cutting through the fog in his mind. Antony strolled toward him, his lips curled into a playful smirk, eyes gleaming with mischief. Behind him, Hermione Granger approached, her arms stacked with books, already absorbed in today's lessons.

"You should get your head out of the stars," Antony continued, falling into step beside him, "unless you're planning on living up there."

Sebastian chuckled softly, shaking off the lingering unease. Antony's carefree demeanor was contagious. He had a way of pulling them all into his whirlwind, lightening any situation with a wink or a joke. Hermione, with her focus and intensity, balanced Antony's irreverence, but the dynamic between the three of them felt natural—effortless. Despite their differences, they'd found each other quickly amidst the vastness of Hogwarts, their trio becoming a source of quiet strength.

"At least I'm not nearly late for every class like you," Sebastian quipped, casting a side glance at Antony.

"Nearly late means not late at all," Antony replied, his grin widening. "Besides, it keeps things exciting."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh but didn't lift her gaze from her books. "I swear, you're going to be late to your own exams at this rate."

"I perform best under pressure," Antony replied with mock seriousness. "Or didn't you know that about me by now, Granger?"

Despite herself, Hermione's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Performing best would imply you're actually studying."

Sebastian smirked as Antony feigned a wounded look, clutching his chest dramatically. Yet beneath the surface banter, the tension from earlier still tugged at him, a thread pulling at the edges of his mind.

As they crossed the courtyard, heading towards their next class, that nagging feeling returned, more insistent this time. He could almost hear it—like a pulse, a heartbeat echoing in his ears. And then, just as he stepped through the archway, it hit him again.

A flash. The world tilted. The courtyard was suddenly empty. The broomstick, spinning out of control. Hermione on the ground, cradling her arm in pain. Antony laughing—then the laughter stopped. The world shattered.

Sebastian gasped, his breath catching in his throat as reality snapped back into place. He stumbled, his hand reaching out for the stone wall to steady himself.

"Sebastian?" Hermione's voice was sharp, laced with concern. She had stopped a few steps ahead, turning back toward him. "Are you alright?"

He forced a smile, though the remnants of the vision still clung to him like a shadow. "I'm fine," he muttered, trying to shake the feeling.

But he wasn't. What was that? It felt too real, too vivid to be just a fleeting thought. His heart raced as the image of Hermione hurt flashed again in his mind. He could still feel the cold dread it had left behind, as if he'd glimpsed a future he wasn't meant to see.

Antony, ever oblivious to the shift in mood, clapped Sebastian on the shoulder, steering him forward. "Come on, mate, you'll be late at this rate."

They continued onward, but Sebastian's thoughts remained distant, swirling around the strange flashes that had haunted him since he arrived at Hogwarts. Were they warnings? Or was he just unraveling from the intensity of everything—the magic, the expectations, the history that seemed to weigh on his very name?

The morning passed in a blur of lessons and hallways, the trio weaving through Hogwarts' ever-shifting passages with the ease of those quickly growing accustomed to the castle's quirks. In Charms, Professor Flitwick's tiny frame bobbed excitedly as he demonstrated the proper wand movements for their latest lesson. The classroom buzzed with the energy of students eager to make their feathers float.

Sebastian's mind was elsewhere, still clouded by the morning's strange vision, but Antony, ever the opportunist, seized the chance for mischief.

"Alright, Ravenwood," Antony whispered, leaning across the desk with a glint in his eye. "Bet I can get my feather higher than yours. Loser carries Hermione's books for the next week."

Hermione, whose feather was already hovering gracefully in the air, shot them both a sharp look. "I don't need anyone to carry my books, thank you very much."

"I'll take that as a vote of confidence," Antony said, winking at her.

Sebastian smirked. "You're on."

With a flick of his wand, Sebastian muttered, Wingardium Leviosa, watching as his feather lifted gently from the desk, hovering a few inches off the surface. Antony's feather, however, wobbled erratically before shooting up with an impressive, if unstable, height.

"Not bad," Sebastian conceded, though his focus was already waning.

And then it happened again.

Another flash. The classroom disappeared, replaced by an instant—a flicker of the future. A mistake. Someone miscasting a spell. A feather catching fire. Panic. A rush of students.

Sebastian gasped, his concentration shattering. His feather dropped, drifting back onto the desk as the vision dissipated, leaving him breathless.

"Looks like I win," Antony's voice was triumphant, but Sebastian barely heard him.

His heart pounded. These visions—they were growing more frequent, more intense. He could no longer dismiss them as fleeting dreams or stress-induced illusions. They felt real. Tangible. But why him? And what did they mean?

Hermione glanced over, her eyes narrowing in concern. "Sebastian?"

He shook his head quickly, trying to shake off the lingering unease. "I'm fine," he repeated, though the weight of the day pressed heavier on his chest with each passing moment.

By the end of the day, the three of them found themselves seated in a quiet corner of the library, books spread before them, though the rhythm of study felt more relaxed, their banter filling the gaps between assignments.

Antony leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly twirling his wand. "We should practice more charms in the common room later. Maybe we can lift Filch's cat just for fun."

"You are going to get us all in serious trouble," Hermione warned, though the faint smile on her lips betrayed her amusement.

"Trouble's half the fun," Antony replied with a wink. "Besides, it's not like Sebastian would let us get caught. Right, Seb?"

Sebastian offered a distracted chuckle, though his mind wasn't fully with them. The flashes—the glimpses of a future yet to come—they weighed heavily on his thoughts, like dark clouds gathering on the horizon. He had no words to explain it, not even to himself. The power that stirred within him was like a secret waiting to unfold, and he wasn't sure whether to embrace it or fear it.

As Sebastian sat in the library, watching the soft glow of candlelight dance over the worn pages of an ancient tome, a quiet restlessness churned within him. It wasn't the usual nervous energy of a young wizard adjusting to the rhythm of life at Hogwarts. No, this was something else. Something deeper, older, and more disconcerting.

He'd felt it from the moment he first stepped into the castle's towering gates—like an unseen force had taken notice of him, stirring just beneath the surface of the castle's stone walls. The air here, charged with centuries of magic, seemed to hum softly around him, resonating with a part of himself he had barely been aware of before.

Back at home, at Ravenwood Manor, magic had always been part of life. His family's legacy ran deep, with spells and enchantments woven into the very fabric of the estate. But the power he felt here—within himself—was different. It was raw, elusive, and unsettlingly unpredictable. And since his arrival at Hogwarts, it had only grown stronger.

It wasn't just the flashes, those fleeting glimpses of moments yet to come, but a constant thrumming in his veins, like an untapped wellspring of energy waiting to break free. He could feel it, lurking beneath his skin, at the edge of his consciousness.

The castle, with its winding corridors and secret chambers, seemed to whisper to him, as if it knew something he didn't. The very air seemed to shift around him when he passed through certain hallways, or when he stood beneath the high, vaulted ceilings of the Great Hall. The feeling was strongest in places steeped in history, where ancient magic lingered like a memory etched into the stone.

Every now and then, he would catch it—the faintest flicker of something not quite right. Time itself seemed to bend, just for a second. A shimmer in the air. A fleeting thought that became reality the next moment. At first, he had chalked it up to nerves, to the overwhelming excitement of attending Hogwarts, but it was becoming impossible to ignore. These weren't coincidences. Something was awakening inside him, and Hogwarts was at the heart of it.

He'd tried to brush it off, to focus on his studies, to let Antony's jokes and Hermione's relentless pursuit of knowledge distract him. But no matter how hard he tried, the feeling persisted. It was as if the very magic of the castle was pulling at him, coaxing this strange power to the surface, piece by piece.

He thought back to the Sorting Hat's words—the warning it had given him, barely audible to anyone else. It had seen something in him, something dangerous, something others would try to exploit. He hadn't understood it then, but now, as the days passed and the flashes came more frequently, He's starting to think that the hat is on to something.

Whatever this power was, it was tied to the core of who he was. And the more time he spent in Hogwarts, the closer it came to breaking free.

A soft rustle broke his thoughts, and he looked up to see Hermione flipping through yet another thick volume, her brows furrowed in concentration. Antony, on the other hand, had abandoned all pretense of studying, balancing his chair on two legs as he idly conjured sparks from the tip of his wand.

Sebastian sighed, his mind heavy with questions that had no answers. What was this power? And why now, here in this ancient, sprawling castle, did it feel as though something—or someone—was trying to stir it awake?

There was no one to ask. No one who could understand. He didn't even know how to explain it to himself, let alone anyone else.

Antony suddenly leaned over, breaking the silence, his voice a low whisper. "You alright, Ravenwood? You've been quiet today. Even quieter than usual."

Sebastian blinked, realizing he'd been lost in thought for longer than he intended. He forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Antony raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You don't look fine. Maybe all that thinking is starting to fry your brain. You need to lighten up, mate. How about a little break? We could sneak into the kitchens—"

"Not now, Antony," Hermione cut in, though her eyes flickered toward Sebastian with the same concern. "Maybe we should call it a day. We've been studying for hours."

Sebastian's smile faltered, but he nodded again. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

But as they gathered their things and prepared to head back to the common room, the weight of the power inside him remained. The flashes, the strange feelings, the visions—they were all leading to something. He could feel it in his bones.

And as the trio made their way through the quiet corridors, the stone walls whispering secrets older than any of them could fathom, Sebastian knew one thing for certain: whatever was awakening it scares him.

But for now, in the quiet company of his friends, he pushed the unease aside, allowing himself to enjoy the stillness of the moment, the comfort of their laughter, and the solace of not being alone in this vast, magical world.

Sorry! I posted the wrong document here's the complete chapter

Whew... It's Been a looong time. Too long even. Sorry to keep you guys waiting. School have been BRUTAL, like seriously I couldn't even have a single weekend without dozens of pesentation or homework.

It's also have been hard to find time to write and this story is still progressing with all the plot and everything. So I hope you guys like it.

P.S: If any of you is already in college "How?!". Oh and Please Like and Comment if you like this story.