Hogwarts had transformed for Christmas.
The already enchanting castle had taken on a new kind of magic, quieter, softer, as though the very stones had relaxed under the weight of snow and silence. The Great Hall was nearly unrecognizable, its towering ceilings adorned with enchanted icicles that never melted, and twelve magnificent Christmas trees, each uniquely decorated, filled the space with rich pine scent and warm candlelight. Some shimmered with floating golden stars, others were wrapped in silver ribbons that gently fluttered despite the absence of wind. Garlands of holly and ivy curled around the pillars like living serpents, and snowflakes which drifted lazily from the bewitched ceiling before vanishing a moment before touching the ground.
It was beautiful. Calmer, too. With most students gone home for the holidays, the castle no longer echoed with footsteps and chatter. The corridors were hushed, the common rooms nearly empty, and even the staircases seemed to creak a little more gently in the absence of the usual chaos. Some could find the stillness eerie.
Ethan found it peaceful.
He had declined his mother's offer to return home for the break. He hadn't lied when he said he was too invested in his studies to leave now. Hogwarts, even in its silence, offered something different than home ever could. The library was open, the grounds blanketed in quiet snow, and most importantly, he had uninterrupted time to pursue what really interested him.
After the nights feast, where he enjoyed his fill of roast turkey, cranberry sauce, and a particularly good treacle tart, Ethan slipped away from the Great Hall. The other few students who had remained for the holidays lingered to pull crackers and sing carols.
Hermione, sitting with Ron and Harry, abruply brought up a book, telling the two boys about something. He wondered if it was about the Philosopher's Stone. Well, it certainly wasn't his problem.
Obtaining the stone for himself would be nice. It was an immense magical artifact, but it was inside the mirror of Erised. Since he wanted it, the mirror wouldn't give it to him, that is how Dumbledore enchanted it. Trying to get past Dumbledore and his set up felt impossible for him as a first year. The design was for Harry Potter. He wouldn't let Ethan get the stone anyway.
No, he wouldn't go for it, but wondered if it truly was destroyed as Dumbledore says later to Harry Potter. He doesn't quite remember the what became of it after Harry's first year.
He left them behind to their own devices, winding through the empty corridors with a purpose he'd been waiting weeks to fulfill.
Tonight, he would find it.
The Room of Requirement.
He had looked by himself for ages, trying to blindly remember from the books where it was described to be. Finally, after giving in and asking the portraits on the seventh floor, he might have finally found it. The painting he couldn't remeber.
He climbed the quiet staircases with his hands in his robes, breath fogging in the chill air. As he reached the seventh floor, he slowed, eyes scanning the walls. He didn't need to search long. There, directly across from the infamous tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach ballet to trolls, was a blank stretch of wall.
He stopped in front of it.
'Alright, This should be it.'
The key was intent. Not vague wishing, but specific, focused need. He would have to walk past three times, concentrating on exactly what he wanted.
So he began.
'I need a room where I can train. A place to practice magic, without interruption or supervision.'
He turned.
'I need a space that can contain magical energy. Targets, dummies, maybe some protective enchantments. I need to test myself.'
Another turn.
'I need a place where I can learn the real nature of spells, not just reciting them, but reshaping them. Understanding them.'
As he completed the third pass, the blank wall rippled, like a puddle touched by wind. A door emerged from the stone as if rising from the wall itself, ornate and wooden, with an iron handle shaped like a phoenix.
Ethan stopped, lips parting in quiet awe. He stepped forward and placed his hand on the door, pausing only a moment before pushing it open.
The Room of Requirement had answered.
It was more than he'd hoped for.
The chamber was vast and circular, its domed ceiling glowing with soft torchlight. Smooth, polished stone stretched out beneath his feet, warm despite the cold air outside. Around the edges of the room were racks of practice dummies, wooden figures with hinged limbs and faint enchantment runes carved into their torsos. There were targets mounted at varying heights on the far wall, and even a raised platform to simulate dueling scenarios. Shelves nearby held chalk, scrolls, and practice wands.
He stepped inside slowly, letting the door close behind him. The air within buzzed faintly, not with sound, but with potential.
This was his.
With practiced ease, he pulled out his wand and approached the nearest dummy. His breathing slowed, his thoughts sharpened. No professors watching, no classmates muttering. Just him, his magic, and a space built entirely around the act of improving.
He pointed his wand at the dummy and spoke clearly: "Flipendo!"
A pale burst of blue light shot from the tip and struck the wooden chest. The dummy rocked slightly, creaking on its base, but didn't fall.
Not enough force.
He frowned slightly, adjusted his grip, and cast again.
"Flipendo!"
This time, the impact was stronger. The dummy jolted back with a more satisfying thud, but remained upright.
Better.
Over the next hour, he worked through every spell he'd learned that term. 'Expelliarmus' sent the dummy's arm swinging backward like it had dropped something. 'Stupefy' caused it to seize briefly before slumping. 'Petrificus Totalus' locked its limbs in place with a wooden clack.
Each incantation was paired with small changes, shorter syllables, longer flicks, changes in tempo and tone. Ethan was experimenting, not just practicing. Seeing how intent affected outcome. What changed when he whispered versus when he shouted. What happened when he added emotion, frustration, excitement, curiosity.
Magic responded. It was subtle, but there. A slightly stronger push. A deeper color in the spell light. A sharper recoil.
Eventually, he returned to 'Flipendo' again. He wasn't satisfied with the standard version. He wanted something stronger. More refined.
'What if I imagined not just knocking it back, but truly blasting it away? Like a wave of force, not just a push.'
He shifted his stance, letting the image grow clearer in his mind. The wand movement came instinctively, less a jab, more of a sweep, as if swatting away something invisible.
"Flipendo Maxima!"
The energy burst from his wand in a wide arc, brilliant and blue. The dummy was flung backward, hitting the floor with a loud THUD and skidding across the stone.
Ethan stared, blinking in surprise. Then, a slow grin spread across his face.
'That's more like it.'
His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. He could feel the warmth of magical exertion in his fingers, his shoulders, his chest. It wasn't exhaustion exactly, more like the satisfied fatigue after a job well done.
He turned slowly, looking around the chamber once more. This room, this place that appeared only when needed, it had given him more than a practice ground. It had given him the freedom to learn his way, not the textbook way. Not the professor's version. But his own. At his own pace
Here, there were no house points. No expectations. No distractions.
Just knowledge waiting to be earned.
He sheathed his wand and walked slowly back toward the door, taking one last glance over his shoulder at the dummies still standing, some tilted, some locked, one flat on its back.
He would be back. Again and again. Until he was satisfied.