13 XIII. Ethica Nicomachea

🙞 1 September 1991 | Hogwarts, Scotland 🙜

Ravenclaw's Common Room was akin to a library. Its walls were made of bookshelves, filled to the brim with magical tomes and parchment. Magic lamps lit the room, their flames shining an ethereal blue.

There were two levels to the Common Room, both having different libraries. On the first floor, Harry could see cushions and tables for students to use. The smell of inkwell drifted off in the air, a sign of past research done there.

On the second floor, along with the bookshelves, arched windows adorned the walls. From them, one could see almost all of Hogwarts' grounds. Harry could observe the mountains surrounding the castle, the Black Lake, and even the Forbidden Forest.

The last one reminded him of Dumbledore's warning about the forest. Harry thought it wise to heed the man's words. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a niggling curiosity about the forbidden area. It made him remember the days he spent exploring Britain.

He glanced around once more, surveying the spacious room. The moonlight came streaming from above, intermixing with the blue flames in the room. Looking up, Harry couldn't help but admire the ceiling. It was a dome made of stained glass, like a Gothic church.

It reminded him of illustrations he had seen in books. The church of Notre-Dame had similar stained glasses and tall pointed arches. Of course, the Common Room wasn't brooding in its design, sacred like Gothic architecture was.

Instead, it was brighter, tones of blue and bronze colouring the room. It wasn't a place meant for religious worship. If anything, the only sacred thing in there was magic. And Rowena was its priestess.

Her marble sculpture embellished the room's centre, carved to perfection. Robes embraced her figure, a book held against her bosom, and her expression was that of quiet contemplation. Harry couldn't help but lock his eyes on the book she carried.

Since he'd started reinforcing his memories with Occlumency, he only found it easier to recall the past. And he could swear he had seen the book somewhere before. The memory was hazy, but he knew it to be there.

'Ethica Nicomachea' was the book's name. 'I can research it later,' he thought, eyeing the sculpture in wonder.

"Students!" Harry almost jumped at the voice, "Welcome to Ravenclaw! I am most delighted to have you."

The man who spoke was short, not reaching Harry's torso even at the tip of his toes. His robes were navy blue, similar to the room's colour theme, and a thick black moustache twirled up his nose.

Adjusting his round glasses, the man introduced himself, "My name is Filius Flitwick, and I am the Head of Ravenclaw's House. During your stay, should anything trouble you, look for me. I will be more than happy to guide you in your academic journey!"

Flitwick's perky voice matched the man's enthusiasm, "Older students can also help you. Exam preparation, doubts, anything! All you need is but to ask."

"Now, as you have seen earlier, to enter Ravenclaw's Common Room, you must first answer the door's riddle." He then smiled, "Unlike the other Houses, anyone is welcomed to enter, so long as they can answer.

"For the sake of practicality, however, there is a password you may use to enter. It changes every week. And, don't forget, only use it if you fail to answer the riddle. Otherwise, the door won't accept it!"

"Tomorrow," he pointed at a board of notices to the side, "You may take your timetable for classes there. Not only that, but I will personally offer book recommendations. While they are not mandatory, I still highly suggest you give them a read. Tomorrow, wake up at eight o' clock, at most."

He then took a short breath, smile still resplendent, "I believe that will be all. Your rooms have plaques bewitched to have your names in them. And the house-elves have already delivered your luggage."

"Good night, First-Years!"

🙞 🙞 🙜 🙜

The wind outside whistled. It embraced Ravenclaw's tower, running across its stones. Alongside it, Harry could also feel currents of magic. They sifted through the ancient cobblestones, carrying whispers from untold centuries.

'Expanding enchantment?' He eyed his dorm room, awestruck. If all chambers were the same size as his, then the tower wouldn't have enough space. Not without magic, that is.

He glanced at the arched window beside his bed. It gave a perfect view of the Black Lake, which reflected the immaculate night sky. It was one beautiful sight to witness.

'Scourgify,' He cast, and his body was cleaned of every blemish it had, 'I could get used to this.'

🙞 2 September 1991 | Hogwarts, Scotland 🙜

He wasted very little, if any, time in his room. As soon as he woke up, he put his clothes on and cast Scourgify. Then, he promptly left.

Outside, not many students from his year were up yet. The same couldn't be said for the older students, however. Most already occupied the Common Room.

Some sat by the cushions, reading books of their choice, while others socialized in small groups. Regardless, not one of them wasted time, and everyone walked with purpose in their step.

"Hey," A male voice startled him, "you're also a First-Year, right?"

Turning around, Harry stared at the boy. He had dark curly hair, and his eyes curved up even though he did not smile.

"What's your name? I couldn't get it yesterday," he offered a handshake, "Michael Corner."

"Konrad," Harry shook his hand.

"..." Both boys stared at each other.

"So..." A stifling silence ensued, "See you around."

Harry nodded, keeping his grimace hidden. It was much easier talking with Omen than with other people his age. So far, his social skills hadn't presented him with any problems.

Aldrik, his teacher, kept to himself mostly, never saying more than necessary. And Omen didn't require Harry to speak. Memories and emotions were much more effective than words, and Harry found himself lacking in the latter.

'Nothing I can solve now,' He shrugged, then walked towards the notice's board.

He ignored the timetable for the time being. What he was interested instead was the list of recommended books. Hopefully, he could find something pertaining to magical control and spell finesse, as they were his main concerns.

Unlike in the past, he couldn't spend months on end mastering a single spell. He was against the clock in Hogwarts. The other students had the inherent advantage of wands, while he had not.

Spells that took months for him to master, they could learn with ease using incantations and wand movements. All he had as a tool to learn was the theory behind each spell. Magical finesse would, in theory, reduce the time it took him to grasp new concepts.

Eyeing the list of recommended materials, however, brought him disappointment. Not to mistake him, the list was quite in-depth. Potion-Making, Charms, Transfiguration, and even History, were included.

'Though that seems interesting,' He thought, reading the book's title.

'Hogwarts, A History: The Library', by Bathilda Bagshot.

If there existed anything that could aid Harry in his quest, he would probably find it in the library. The trend hadn't changed since his first foray into magic, and he did not see why it would do so now.

"Excuse me," He tapped on the shoulder of an older student.

Immediately, she spun around, blond locks of hair whirling like a whip. They almost flogged Harry on his cheek, and he couldn't help but gulp at the near hit.

"Yes?" She asked in a gentle voice.

"Where can I find this?" He pointed at the book he wanted.

A smile graced her face, "The libraries here are sorted in the alphabetical order. Books from 'A' to 'M' are down here, and 'N' to 'Z' upstairs, on the second floor."

"Thank you." And he was away in a heartbeat, not a single second wasted.

The boy disappeared like dust, and the words - 'You're welcome' - died in her mouth. She blinked, appaled, and couldn't help but think, 'What a brat.'