I don't own Harry Potter

Advanced Classes

The warm glow of the candles flickered gently around Dumbledore's office as the professors gathered for their follow-up meeting. Albus Dumbledore, seated calmly behind his grand desk, folded his hands and looked at each of them in turn.

"Now that everyone has had a chance to test young Mr. Cross," Dumbledore began, "what are your impressions?"

Minerva McGonagall spoke first, adjusting her glasses. "He has no trouble with the practical aspects. In terms of skill, he's easily at a fourth-year level. However, in his theoretical knowledge, he aligns closely with third to fourth-year material."

Professor Flitwick nodded. "I'd say the same. His spellwork is precise and creative. There's a natural spark in him—a way of thinking outside the box that I find quite refreshing."

Severus Snape's expression was unreadable as usual, but there was a flicker of acknowledgment in his tone. "His potion work reflects fourth-year standards, but what stands out is his willingness to experiment. He doesn't simply follow instructions—he questions and refines them. I see significant potential in him, particularly given his fondness for pushing the boundaries of conventional methods."

Pomona Sprout chimed in with a warm smile. "I agree. The way he perceives the relationship between plants and potions is remarkable for someone so young. He handled advanced Herbology tasks with the ease of someone two or three years ahead."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he listened. "It seems we are in agreement then. Sal possesses both talent and an eagerness to learn that surpasses his peers."

"What do you propose, Albus?" McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. "I believe Mr. Cross would benefit from a tailored curriculum. Let him remain with his year for camaraderie, but allow him access to more advanced material in subjects where he excels. Encourage his curiosity."

The professors exchanged nods of approval.

"Very well," Dumbledore concluded, smiling softly. "Let's give young Mr. Cross the space to grow. I believe he may surprise us yet."

After learning that he would be taking advanced classes, Sal decided to pursue a subject he had always been curious about—magical theory. It was a branch of study that fascinated him, delving into the mechanics behind spellwork and the essence of magical energy. He already knew the basics, which was why he had been able to cast magic without a wand from a young age.

However, to go deeper, he needed more advanced texts. Most of those books were back in Albion secured in his family's study. Fortunately, there was a way to retrieve them.

Sal sat down at a desk in the Hufflepuff common room, pulling out a small piece of parchment and his quill. He quickly drafted a message to his mother, asking her to retrieve his magical theory books and send them through the Eluvian gateway—a magical portal connecting their family's home in Albion to the magical realms. The ancient gateway allowed their household to stay connected across worlds.

Sealing the letter, Sal attached it to his owl, Archimedes. "Take this home, boy. Make sure it gets to Mum quickly."

Archimedes hooted softly and soared out of the window, disappearing into the evening sky.

Now all Sal had to do was wait. In the meantime, he planned to visit the Hogwarts library to see if they had any rare books on magical theory. After all, knowledge could come from many places, and Sal wasn't one to sit idle when there was magic to be learned.

While Sal couldn't gain access to the Restricted Section, he managed to find several books on magical theory in the general collection of the Hogwarts library. He settled into a quiet corner, flipping through the aged pages by the soft glow of candlelight.

As he read, however, frustration began to creep in. It seemed that every text followed the same line of thinking—strict, rigid frameworks that didn't account for alternative approaches. Most scholars described magic as something external, drawn from wands and rituals, without considering the possibility that it could flow from within naturally.

Sal scribbled notes in his journal as he mulled over the material.

"The building blocks of magic are water, fire, earth, and air. The key is perception, followed by intent. If I consider magic an extension of myself, it becomes as instinctive as walking. Spells, on the other hand, are intent-based and can be studied. For example, the Banishing Charm—by its nature—is rejection-based."

He paused, tapping his quill thoughtfully against the parchment. "Yes, these are good starting points. But it feels like there's more to uncover."

As he continued his research, Sal noticed a recurring theme—old references to ancient magical traditions that predated wand use. These fragments spoke of mages who manipulated the elements directly through mental focus and emotional clarity, bypassing the need for incantations entirely.

Sal's eyes narrowed in concentration as he jotted down one such passage:

"Magic, in its rawest form, bends to the will of those who harmonize with nature's flow. The separation between self and magic dissolves, allowing for seamless manifestation."

This idea resonated with him deeply. His own experiences with wandless magic had always felt more fluid than structured spellcasting. The idea that intent and perception were key building blocks made perfect sense, but this new perspective hinted at something greater—symbiosis with magic itself.

Experimenting, Sal placed the book aside and focused on the quill in his hand. Instead of commanding it verbally, he concentrated on the desire for it to move. Slowly, it lifted, hovering a few inches above the table before gently rotating in the air.

A grin tugged at his lips. "It's all about connection, not control."

Sal dove back into the books, searching for more references to this older school of thought. One text mentioned elemental affinity—how different wizards seemed to naturally align with one of the four classical elements. Sal found himself wondering if his abilities leaned toward one element more than the others.

Testing the theory, he held his palm over a candle resting nearby. With a focused breath, he envisioned the flame stretching upward. The candle flickered, then grew taller, responding to his will.

Sal had been practicing his magic diligently. While fire appeared to be his primary affinity, he soon discovered that he could wield all the elements with surprising ease. The realization excited him—few wizards had such versatility.

One morning at breakfast, Sal's owl swooped down, dropping a package onto his lap along with the rest of the mail. As he tore open the wrapping, two letters fell out—one from his mother and the other from his tutors in Albion.

Curious, Sal opened the letter from his mother first.

Dear Sal,
I'm so proud of you and everything you've accomplished. I made a quick trip home and found several of your books, along with some new ones I thought you'd find interesting. I can't wait to hear more about your experiences at Hogwarts.
Love, Mom

A warm smile spread across Sal's face as he set the letter aside and opened the second one.

My studious pupil,
I'm delighted to hear that you've chosen to continue your studies in magical theory. Enclosed are books from my personal collection to aid your development as my successor. I trust you'll find them invaluable.
—Julius, Wizard King

Sal's heart raced with excitement. Julius had been his mentor for years, and the thought of inheriting knowledge from someone of his stature filled him with pride. Among the books Julius sent was one on spell crafting—a subject that had fascinated Sal for some time. The very idea of breaking down and reconstructing spells intrigued him, and he was eager to dive in.

"Hey, Sal, what's that?" Tonks asked, glancing up from her paper.

Sal glanced at the stack of books. "Just some books on magical theory I asked my mom to send."

Tonks grinned. "Books? Are you sure you're not secretly a Ravenclaw?"

Sal laughed. "Nah, I'm happy right where I am. But it never hurts to learn a little more."

Tonks leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "Alright, but you've got to explain something to me. You're really into this theory stuff, but you're great at practical magic too. How do you balance both?"

Sal set one of the books on the table and tapped the cover thoughtfully. "I think it's because magical theory gives me more control. If I know how the magic works at its core, I don't have to rely on the wand as much. It's like... understanding the why behind the spell."

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "That sounds way too deep for before breakfast."

He grinned. "It's not so bad. I could show you sometime."

"Deal," Tonks said, smiling. "But if I start dozing off, you owe me a chocolate frog."

Sal chuckled. "Fair enough."

As they finished their meal, Tonks nudged his arm. "Seriously though, you're kind of brilliant, Sal. You ever think about teaching?"

Sal shrugged. "Maybe someday. For now, I just want to learn as much as I can."

"Well, just don't forget to drag the rest of us along when you unlock the secrets of the universe," Tonks teased as they left the Great Hall together.

Sal smiled. With friends like Tonks, his time at Hogwarts was bound to be memorable.

Sal learned from his professors that while he would continue attending regular classes with his friends, he would follow a fourth-year level curriculum. It was a compromise that allowed him to stay with his peers while still advancing his studies.

When Sal wasn't in his secret room—a space he had discovered and shared with Tonks and Tulip—he spent his time in the library or practicing magic. Today, however, Sal and Tonks were dueling, providing Sal a chance to refine his magic and Tonks an opportunity to practice spells she wouldn't normally attempt.

"Expelliarmus!" Tonks called out, her wand flicking forward. Sal raised a barrier, fueled by rejection intent—a personal twist on defensive magic. It wasn't a formal spell, but it worked as a starting point.

"You're getting better, Tonks. That was faster than last time," Sal complimented.

Tonks grinned. "Thanks! My wand movements are still clumsy, but your advice seems to help."

"I think you're both doing great," Tulip chimed in, flipping through a cookbook. She had been applying Sal's advice, treating potions like cooking, and the approach had improved her skills.

"Thanks, Tulip. Speaking of cooking, I asked the house elves if they'd help me set up a cooking class for us to practice. They said we could use the kitchen Friday after class. What do you think?" Sal asked.

"Sounds fun," Tulip replied.

"I'm in," Tonks added, attempting another Expelliarmus.

That Friday, the three friends made their way to the Hogwarts kitchen. The house elves had prepared a space for them, and to their surprise, a small audience of elves gathered to watch.

Mindy, the head house elf in charge of the kitchen, stepped forward. "We'll start with something simple—chocolate chip cookies. Ingredients and recipes have been provided. Let's begin."

Though the recipe was standard, the process of making the dough and baking left room for personal interpretation.

A short while later, Mindy evaluated their work. "Miss Tulip, your cookies are undercooked—but some people like the taste of cookie dough. Miss Nymphadora, yours are too crispy. You can tell by the color."

Sal noticed how Tonks' hair darkened slightly at the mention of her full name. She clearly disliked it.

When Mindy tried Sal's cookies, she raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Slytherin, you weren't being honest. You've made cookies before."

Sal froze for a moment, nearly dropping his spatula. "I suppose I never technically said I didn't know how to cook," he replied with a sheepish grin.

Mindy's eyes twinkled. "I'll have to keep an eye on you. I didn't realize the young master was so sneaky."

After the class, the three friends left the kitchen, but Sal could tell his friends had questions. "Alright," he said, leading them back to the secret room. "Let's go, and you can ask away."

Once they were inside, Tonks crossed her arms. "Okay—spill. How are you the heir of Slytherin?"

Tulip chimed in. "I thought your last name was Cross."

Sal sighed. "Cross is just a cover. I'm not just the heir of Slytherin. I'm the heir of all four founders."

Tulip's eyes widened. "That would make you the lord of Hogwarts. The founders built the castle and turned it into a school."

"Exactly. Now you see why I have to keep it a secret. If people found out, it would be a media circus."

Tonks let out a low whistle, running her hand through her hair as it shifted to a lighter shade. "A media circus? Try the entire wizarding world losing their minds. You're basically the heir to Hogwarts itself. How do you even keep something like that quiet?"

Sal shrugged. "Dumbledore helps. So do the professors. They've kept my identity under wraps for years."

Tulip stared at him for a long moment before grinning. "So, you're telling me I've been hanging out with Hogwarts royalty this entire time?"

Tonks laughed, though there was still a hint of disbelief in her eyes. "And here I thought you were just a bookworm with a knack for magic. This is next level, Sal."

Sal chuckled. "I prefer to keep things low-key. Besides, it's not like being the heir comes with any special privileges."

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but if you ever decide to start wearing a crown, let me know. I'd like to be there for the grand reveal."

Tulip nudged Sal playfully. "Yeah, and if you need royal advisors, you know where to find us."

Sal grinned, grateful for their lighthearted reactions. "I'll keep that in mind. But for now, let's stick to cookies and dueling."