Ted raised his wand, taking a deep breath before chanting, "Protego!"
A thin, shimmering barrier formed in front of him, flickered for a second, and then vanished into thin air.
"Yes! Finally!" he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. His Shield Charm had successfully materialized!
The notification in his mind confirmed it—
[Protego: Level 1]
—which meant the system had recognized his effort. As an added bonus, he gained 65 experience points.
However, when he put his new spell to the test, things didn't go as smoothly as he hoped.
First, he used magic to send a small ball flying toward himself. The shield barely shimmered before the ball went straight through, bouncing harmlessly off his chest.
"Okay… maybe that was too much?"
Next, he tried a floating piece of parchment.
Same result—the shield did nothing.
"Seriously?!" Ted groaned. "At this point, a stiff breeze would be a threat."
Now he understood why the Shield Charm was considered a difficult spell—most wizards at the Ministry of Magic couldn't even cast it properly.
Having the spell wasn't enough; making it strong enough to be useful was the real challenge.
With a sigh, he made peace with the fact that magic was all about practice and refinement. Learning a spell was just the first step. Mastery required time and effort.
During his training, he also picked up another spell, the mischievous "Leg-Locker Curse".
It made the target's legs snap together, effectively gluing them in place, which wasn't particularly effective in a wizard duel—unless, of course, he could use it on someone's arms instead.
Now that would be interesting.
After hours of studying, Ted needed a break.
He grabbed his old guitar and headed to an empty terrace.
With the setting sun casting golden light over the castle, he started strumming a tune—"Down By The Salley Gardens."
The melody drifted through the castle halls, a soft and melancholic tune that carried a sense of mystery and longing.
As Ted played, he felt himself getting lost in the rhythm, his mind wandering in a peaceful state he rarely experienced amidst the chaos of Hogwarts life.
A rustling sound snapped him back to reality.
A small paper crane fluttered toward him, landing gently in his hand before unfolding into a note.
It was from Hermione.
"Where are you? I swear I hear a guitar playing somewhere. Are you playing? Also, why does Hogwarts have no musical instruments? It's absurd!"
Ted chuckled. Leave it to Hermione to get worked up over something like that. He picked up his guitar and headed to their usual meeting spot.
As he left, he glanced at a nearby wall. A faint shimmer flickered on the wall that immediately disappeared like it was never there. Ted shrugged and continued on his walk.
Unbeknownst to him, it was the Gray Lady—Helena Ravenclaw, the house ghost of Ravenclaw who had been there.
She had been hiding in the wall, listening the entire time.
...
When Ted arrived at the abandoned classroom they used as their gathering spot, he found his friends already there, chatting animatedly.
"…At Hogwarts, I can finally eat all the cheese I want! Long live Hogwarts!" Jerry exclaimed with a grin.
Since his Gryffindor nickname was "Mouse," he had fully embraced it—down to his obsession with cheese.
Ted plopped down next to them. "What's got you all so excited?"
Turns out, they had all been reminiscing about how much their lives had changed since coming to Hogwarts.
For Hermione, it was like stepping into an entirely new world. Every book, every lesson, every discovery was a source of excitement for her.
She thrived on knowledge—not just for the grades, but for the sheer joy of learning magic.
Even subjects that others found boring, like History of Magic, fascinated her like a fairy tale brought to life.
Although Ron and Harley came from wizarding families and had been around magic since childhood, the wizarding world seemed to believe that young children shouldn't practice magic too early, fearing they might lose control.
As a result, neither of them knew much about spellcasting before coming to Hogwarts.
Harley had learned bits and pieces from Sirius, but never in a structured way. Ron, on the other hand, had never cast a spell before setting foot in school.
Most wizarding families lived in secluded areas, sometimes miles away from their nearest neighbors, which meant young witches and wizards rarely had playmates growing up.
Ironically, the only wizard Harley had frequent contact with as a child was none other than Draco Malfoy. Hard to believe, right?
And yet, it was true.
Thinking about it, it made sense.
Lucius Malfoy must have been in a difficult position after Voldemort's fall.
At that time, the Black family—ancient, wealthy, and influential—was still a valuable connection, especially since they were distant relatives.
Even though Sirius despised the Malfoys and never missed a chance to mock them, Lucius still tried to maintain ties.
So, in a twist of fate, young Malfoy had been forced to spend time around Harley. And, well… let's just say Harley made sure to humble him whenever he could.
That was the price of being Gryffindor's champion!
Ron, on the other hand, had the opposite problem.
He came from a massive family—seven kids in total—and he was the sixth. Not the eldest, not the youngest, not the only girl. Just… the sixth.
Who pays attention to the sixth kid?
Sure, his parents loved him, but with so many children, there simply wasn't enough time and energy to go around.
Bill, the eldest, was the family's golden boy—brilliant, successful, and highly respected.
Peggy, the third child, was also a star student and ambitious to a fault.
Ginny, the youngest, naturally received extra attention.
And in a household where hand-me-downs were a way of life, by the time things trickled down to Ron, they were either broken or too outdated to be of much use.
It wasn't that his family ignored him entirely, but he definitely felt overlooked.
His older brothers were too much older to relate to. Ginny, being a little sister, had completely different interests.
The twins? Well, their idea of brotherly affection involved turning him into the subject of their latest prank.
Only Peggy, showed him consistent kindness.
She was the only one who checked in on him and made sure he was okay.
But then he came to Hogwarts.
And here, everything changed.
He finally had close friends—real ones.
Neville, the quiet but dependable boy who carried more burdens than he let on.
Jerry, the sharp, quick-witted Gryffindor who always had a joke ready.
Harley, the bold and confident leader who never hesitated to take charge.
Ted, the brainiac who helped him with homework and grumbled about their lack of effort.
And, of course, Hermione, who constantly scolded them yet always looked out for them.
Ron didn't say it out loud, but he cherished these friendships more than anything.
Still… was he the only one who felt so ordinary among them?
Neville had his own struggles, but his connection to Hogwarts ran deep.
His life at home had been one long battle against expectations.
Every morning, he woke up with the crushing weight of responsibility—living up to his grandmother's hopes, honoring his parents' sacrifice, and carrying the expectations of those who believed the Boy-Who-Lived would grow up to be some grand hero.
The fact that Neville hadn't crumbled under that pressure was proof of his strength. And now that he was at Hogwarts, he could finally breathe.
No one here treated him like some prophesied savior.
No one judged him when he made mistakes in Potions class or struggled with spells.
If he needed help, his friends were there.
If he was bullied by Slytherins, his friends were the first to jump in and defend him.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't alone.
And Jerry? His situation was even more complicated.
His mother had accidentally arrived in this world after the second Conjunction,
That's when she discovered she was pregnant.
She had once lived a happy life, but now she was a single mother in an unfamiliar world.
At the time, the wizarding world was still unsure how to handle intelligent beings from other realms.
Many wizards were openly hostile.
Dark wizards saw them as potential test subjects for experiments or materials for dark magic artifacts.
Even when the Ministry of Magic officially recognized them as humans, discrimination remained common.
Growing up, Jerry's life had been tough.
But then he got his Hogwarts letter.
Becoming a wizard meant more than just learning magic—it meant freedom.
He was no longer just an outsider.
Here, he belonged.
Here, he could finally eat all the cheese he wanted, joke around, and, for once, not worry about what others thought of him.
As Ted listened to his friends talk about their lives, he couldn't help but smile.
He recalled his own excitement when he received his Hogwarts letter, the thrill of stepping into Diagon Alley for the first time, and the realization that he was part of something bigger than himself.
That night, they didn't play games or get into mischief.
Instead, they sat together, sharing their experiences, their struggles, and their dreams.
It was a simple moment, but it made their bond even stronger.
There was something pure about this kind of friendship—one without ulterior motives, without politics or expectations.
Because once you grow up, you realize how rare it truly is.
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