The Charms classroom buzzed with nervous energy as first-years filed in, faces pinched with exam anxiety, parchment rustling as students made desperate last-minute revisions. Chris entered with deliberate calm, his expression betraying none of the amusement he felt at seeing classmates fretting over spells he could perform in his sleep. He settled into a desk near the center of the room, neither hiding in the back nor showing off in the front, and arranged his quill and wand on the desk while his mind wandered to far weightier matters than levitation charms.
Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws filled the desks around him, Hannah's blond hair visible three rows ahead, her head bent close to her textbook as she whispered incantations under her breath. Susan slid into the seat beside him, her red-blonde ponytail swinging as she turned to offer a nervous smile.
"Ready?" she whispered, twirling her wand between her fingers.
Chris nodded, returning her smile with a reassuring one of his own. "You'll do fine," he said, meaning it. Susan had improved considerably since their study sessions began, her confidence growing alongside her magical skill.
Professor Flitwick climbed onto his familiar stack of books at the front of the classroom, raising his hands for quiet. The diminutive professor's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm despite the sober occasion of year-end examinations.
"Welcome, welcome!" he squeaked, bouncing slightly on his toes. "Your Charms examination will consist of two sections today. First, a written portion covering theory, history, and practical applications." He waved his wand, and stacks of parchment distributed themselves to each desk with perfect precision. "And second, the practical demonstration of five essential charms we've covered this year."
Flitwick clasped his hands together, his enthusiasm almost palpable. "For the practical portion, you will each demonstrate: Reparo, to mend a broken object; Wingardium Leviosa, to levitate a feather to a specific height and hold it steady; Incendio, to light a candle; Lumos, to produce light from your wand; and Locomotor, to move an object across the desk. You will be graded on precision, control, and magical execution."
Chris completed the written portion in half the allotted time, his quill moving smoothly across the parchment as he articulated theories and historical contexts far beyond first-year curriculum. Since Mother Magic's gift, his understanding of magical theory had deepened exponentially, revealing connections and principles he'd never fully grasped before. He found himself having to deliberately simplify his answers, removing references to advanced concepts that a first-year shouldn't reasonably know.
For the practical examination, students were called alphabetically to Flitwick's desk at the front of the classroom. Chris watched as classmates performed with varying degrees of success. Hannah's charms executed with textbook precision though lacking power, a Ravenclaw boy's feather shooting to the ceiling rather than hovering as instructed.
"Christopher Emrys," Flitwick called eventually, his voice carrying through the classroom.
Chris approached the professor's desk, aware of the eyes following him. His reputation for exceptional spell work had grown throughout the year, and he sensed the mixture of curiosity and competitive interest from his classmates.
Before him lay a broken teacup, a white feather, an unlit candle, and a small wooden box. Chris took a measured breath, centering himself. The challenge wasn't performing the spells but restraining his power to appropriate first-year levels, impressive but not supernatural.
"Reparo," he said clearly, directing his Yggdrasil wand at the shattered teacup. The fragments swirled together, reconnecting seamlessly without a visible crack or seam. The wood of his wand warmed against his palm, channeling magic with effortless precision.
"Excellent!" Flitwick chirped. "Now, the feather, if you please."
"Wingardium Leviosa," Chris pronounced, executing the swish-and-flick movement perfectly. The feather rose steadily to precisely one meter above the desk and remained unnaturally still, as though pinned to invisible board. Chris maintained the spell without visible effort, his wand steady while most students would be trembling with concentration by now.
The candle ignited with a controlled "Incendio," the flame burning at an even height rather than flickering. "Lumos" caused the tip of his wand to glow with bright, steady light, neither too harsh nor too dim. Finally, "Locomotor" sent the wooden box gliding in a perfect figure-eight pattern across the desks' surface, stopping precisely where it had begun.
Professor Flitwick could barely contain himself, bouncing on his toes with undisguised delight. "Magnificent control, Mr. Emrys! Absolutely exemplary execution of each charm!" The diminutive professor's face had flushed with excitement. "Ten points to Hufflepuff for the finest display of first-year charmwork I've seen in many years!"
Chris returned to his seat amid approving murmurs and a few envious glances. Susan squeezed his arm as he sat down, her eyes bright with vicarious pride.
The Transfiguration exam the following day presented a similar challenge of restrained excellence. In the first-floor classroom, Professor McGonagall distributed thick packets of parchment for the written portion, her stern expression brooking no anxiety as she announced they had precisely ninety minutes to complete their answers.
Chris's quill moved steadily across the parchment as he detailed the four branches of transfiguration: transformation, vanishment, conjuration, and untransfiguration. He explained their principles with carefully measured expertise, drawing enough connections to demonstrate insight but stopping short of the advanced theory he truly understood. When describing the factors affecting transfiguration difficulty, bodyweight, viciousness, wand power, concentration, and a transfigurer's skill, he deliberately included a minor mistake about wand movements that a dedicated first-year might reasonably make.
For the practical portion, McGonagall called them forward individually, her sharp eyes missing nothing as each student attempted the assigned transfigurations. When Chris's turn came, he approached her desk with composed confidence, noting the slight arch of her eyebrow, a signal of heightened attention from the normally impassive professor.
The switching spell came first, exchanging the patterns on two cushions with flawless precision. Next, a simple conjuration of water into a goblet, performed with controlled ease. Finally, the mouse-to-teacup transfiguration that had challenged his classmates throughout the term.
Chris focused on the small white mouse, its whiskers twitching nervously. He raised his wand, establishing clear intent in his mind, and performed the transfiguration with deliberate grace. The mouse shifted smoothly, its form flowing like liquid into a delicate porcelain teacup with hand-painted blue flowers and gold trim around the lip.
McGonagall picked up the cup, examining it with critical expertise. "Perfect transfiguration, Mr. Emrys," she said, her tone measured but carrying an undercurrent of genuine approval. "The detailing is particularly impressive. Five points to Hufflepuff."
The remaining exams of the week presented little challenge. Potions, despite Snape's intimidating presence, resulted in a flawless Forgetfulness Potion that even the biased professor couldn't criticize. Herbology under Professor Sprout's watchful eye involved identifying and caring for various magical plants, which Chris handled with practiced ease. Even History of Magic, tedious though it was, yielded to his encyclopedic knowledge of goblin rebellions and international wizarding conventions.
By Friday afternoon, as he completed his final exam and stepped into the corridor amid chattering classmates comparing answers, Chris felt a quiet satisfaction. He had positioned himself exactly as intended: top of his year academically, displaying exceptional talent without going overboard. Classmates whispered as he passed, speculation about his final marks following him as he headed toward the Hufflepuff common room.
The Great Hall shimmered with golden light as Chris entered with Susan and Hannah, the enchanted ceiling reflecting a magnificent sunset that painted the long tables in warm amber hues. Hundreds of candles floated above, their flames steady in the windless air, casting soft shadows across faces bright with end-of-term excitement. Chris paused momentarily at the threshold, savoring the scene, his first Hogwarts year concluding exactly as planned, with every major objective achieved and his reputation as an exceptional student firmly established.
"Come on," Susan urged, tugging at his sleeve. "Let's get seats together before they're all taken."
The three Hufflepuffs made their way to their house table, where yellow and black banners hung proudly alongside the dominant Gryffindor red and gold that festooned the majority of the hall. Hufflepuff had placed second in the house championship, a respectable showing, especially compared to their usual standings in recent years.
They settled onto the bench, Chris positioning himself with a clear view of both the staff table and the Gryffindor table where Harry Potter sat surrounded by his housemates. The Boy Who Lived looked healthier now that the Horcrux had been removed, his complexion better, the shadows beneath his eyes less pronounced. The invisible connection that had been slowly draining his magic had been severed, though Harry himself remained unaware of the gift he'd been given.
"Can you believe the year's already over?" Hannah sighed, arranging her napkin in her lap. "It feels like just yesterday we were being sorted."
"Quite a year," Chris agreed, his tone deliberately casual. "Between Professor Quirrell's mysterious disappearance, and that business with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew..."
"Not to mention those articles about You-Know-Who actually being a half-blood," Susan added, lowering her voice despite the general noise that would have made eavesdropping impossible. "My aunt says the Ministry's still in chaos over it. Several prominent families have withdrawn financial support from initiatives they previously championed."
Chris nodded, satisfied with the ripple effects of his anonymous revelations. The dismantling of Voldemort's power base was proceeding even more effectively than he'd anticipated.
The ambient chatter died down as Dumbledore rose from the center of the staff table, his midnight blue robes embroidered with silver stars that caught the light as he moved. He spread his arms wide in welcome, his silver beard gleaming in the candlelight, his face arranged in its customary expression of benevolent wisdom that Chris now recognized as a carefully crafted mask.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore announced, his voice carrying effortlessly to every corner of the hall. "And what a year it has been. Your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts..."
Polite laughter rippled through the hall, students relaxing into the Headmaster's familiar whimsical tone. Chris maintained his pleasant expression while observing the subtle lines of tension around Dumbledore's eyes, the slight stiffness in his posture. The old wizard was troubled, unsettled by recent events he couldn't explain. Missing artifacts, disappearing suspects, revelations about Voldemort that should have remained secret.
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding," Dumbledore continued. "The points stand thus: In fourth place, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and fifty-two points; in third, Slytherin, with three hundred and ninety-six points; Hufflepuff has four hundred and twenty-six points; and Gryffindor, four hundred and seventy-two."
A storm of cheering broke out from the Gryffindor table, red and gold ties waving as students stamped and shouted. Chris applauded politely, noting with amusement how Dumbledore had once again managed to ensure his favorite house came out on top. Across the hall, the Slytherin table remained notably subdued, many students still processing the revelations about their house's most infamous alumnus.
"Yes, yes, well done, Gryffindor," said Dumbledore, beaming. "However, recent events compel me to acknowledge certain individual achievements before we begin our feast."
An expectant hush fell over the hall. This deviation from the usual proceedings caught everyone's attention, Chris's included. His muscles tensed imperceptibly as he considered what the Headmaster might be about to announce.
"First," Dumbledore said, "to Mr. Harry Potter, for becoming the youngest Seeker in a century and showing remarkable dedication to his house team, I award Gryffindor ten points."
The Gryffindors cheered again, though less enthusiastically, they had already won the cup, after all. Harry ducked his head, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
"Second," Dumbledore continued, his gaze sweeping across the hall until it settled on the Hufflepuff table, "to Mr. Christopher Emrys, for achieving the highest academic standing across all first-year examinations, demonstrating exceptional magical aptitude, and contributing significantly to Hufflepuff house's impressive standing this year, I award a special mention and fifteen points."
Susan squeezed Chris's arm excitedly as the Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, several older students leaning across to clap him on the shoulder or back. The recognition was unexpected, though not unwelcome.
Chris allowed himself a modest smile, inclining his head in acknowledgment. When he looked up, his eyes met Dumbledore's across the hall. The Headmaster's blue gaze held his for a moment longer than casual recognition warranted, a subtle intensity beneath the twinkle that confirmed Chris's suspicions: he was being watched more closely now. The chaos of recent months, the unicorns, the missing Philosopher's Stone, Quirrell's disappearance, Pettigrew's capture, the Voldemort revelations, had placed all unusual students under heightened scrutiny.
Dumbledore clapped his hands once, breaking the connection. "And now, before we all become too befuddled, let the end-of-year banquet begin!"
The golden plates and goblets suddenly filled with food and drink, roast beef and chicken, pork chops and lamb, potatoes in every form, peas and carrots, gravy boats and mint sauce. The momentary tension dissolved as students turned their attention to the feast, conversations resuming at elevated volumes.
"Highest academic standing across all examinations!" Hannah repeated, serving herself roast potatoes. "That's incredible, Chris. I knew you were doing well, but..."
"Aunt Amelia will be thrilled when I tell her," Susan added, her eyes bright with genuine pleasure at his success. "She's always saying we need more academic excellence in magical Britain."
Chris served himself a modest portion of roast beef, savoring the rich aroma. "I had excellent study partners," he said, nodding to both girls. "Besides, the material this year was fairly straightforward."
As conversation flowed around him, summer plans, hopes for next year's classes, speculation about who might replace Quirrell as Defense professor, Chris allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. Beyond the academic achievements Dumbledore had recognized lay his true accomplishments of the year: saving the unicorns from Quirrell's predation, securing the Philosopher's Stone before it could become a temptation, extracting the Horcrux from Harry Potter, completely destroying Voldemort through the Soul Execution Ritual, orchestrating Pettigrew's capture and Black's exoneration, and exposing Voldemort's half-blood origins to dismantle his support base.
Not bad for a first year, he thought, taking a sip of pumpkin juice to hide his smile.
The Hufflepuff common room would be raucous tonight, celebrating their second-place finish and the various individual achievements of their members. Tomorrow, they would board the Hogwarts Express back to London. And then, with the relative freedom of summer, he could begin laying groundwork for his second year, a year that, if all went according to plan, would be considerably less eventful than what canonical history suggested.
Hogsmeade Station swarmed with students dragging trunks and owl cages across the platform, their end of year excitement expressed in overlapping conversations and spontaneous laughter. Chris maneuvered through the crowd with practiced ease, his trunk floating obediently behind him thanks to a subtle levitation charm. Susan and Hannah flanked him, their own luggage handled more conventionally, as they searched for an empty compartment on the scarlet steam engine that would carry them back to London and the summer that stretched invitingly before them.
"There's one," Hannah called, pointing toward the middle of the train where a compartment door stood open, revealing empty seats inside. They quickened their pace, reaching it just before a group of Ravenclaw second-years with the same intention.
Chris gestured for Susan and Hannah to enter first, then guided his floating trunk into the overhead rack with a subtle flick of his fingers before anyone could notice the wandless magic. He settled onto the cushioned seat beside the window, the familiar weight of the Marauder's Map secure in his pocket and his miniaturized trunk hanging around his neck beneath his shirt.
"I can't believe it's over already," Susan sighed, tucking a strand of red-blonde hair behind her ear. "First year gone, just like that."
Hannah nodded, already extracting a small planner from her bag. "I've color-coded my summer revision schedule. If we start our essays early, we'll have more free time in August."
"Ever the optimist," Chris teased, earning a good-natured eye-roll from Hannah.
The train whistle sounded, a long, piercing note that signaled imminent departure. Outside their window, last-minute students scrambled aboard as parents and younger siblings waved from the platform. With a lurch and the rhythmic chugging of its engine, the Hogwarts Express began its journey south, Hogsmeade Station sliding away behind them.
The Scottish countryside unfurled beyond the window, rolling green hills and distant mountains bathed in summer sunlight. Inside the compartment, the three friends settled into the comfortable familiarity that had developed over their first year together.
"Do you think things will be different next year?" Susan asked suddenly, her gaze still fixed on the passing landscape. "After everything that happened, I mean."
"Which part?" Hannah replied. "The missing professor? The Dark Lord being exposed as a half-blood? The innocent man freed from Azkaban?"
Chris smiled faintly, watching their reflections in the window glass. How satisfying it was to hear his handiwork discussed so casually, the ripples of his actions spreading through the wizarding world like stones cast in still water.
"All of it," Susan said thoughtfully. "Aunt Amelia says the Ministry's in complete disarray. Half the department heads are calling for investigations into old Death Eater trials, especially since they found Pettigrew alive after all this time."
"Your aunt must be quite busy these days," Chris observed, knowing that Amelia Bones would indeed be at the center of the political storm he had engineered.
Susan nodded, her expression brightening with pride. "She's been named to head a special commission reviewing all cases connected to You-Know-Who's followers. Aunty says she barely comes home these days, just works and sleeps at the Ministry."
"And what about the Voldemort revelation?" Chris asked, deliberately using the name and noting how both girls still flinched slightly. "Has that caused as much chaos as it seemed at Hogwarts?"
"Worse," Susan confirmed, leaning forward as though sharing a secret. "Aunt Amelia says several prominent families have withdrawn from the Wizengamot entirely. The Malfoys haven't been seen in public for weeks. And the Prophet reports that St. Mungo's has a special ward full of former Death Eaters suffering from magical depletion."
Hannah shuddered. "It's creepy to think he was stealing their magic all along. Using them while pretending to be some pureblood champion."
"The perfect con," Chris agreed, allowing a note of satisfaction to color his voice. "They gave him everything, money, political support, their children as followers, all while he secretly despised them for the very blood purity they prized."
The conversation paused as the trolley witch arrived at their compartment, offering sweets from her cart. Chris purchased chocolate frogs for all three of them, plus a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans to share. As they sorted through the colorful jellybeans, daring each other to try suspicious colours, the conversation shifted to summer plans.
"We're visiting my grandmother in Cornwall for two weeks," Hannah said, carefully inspecting a pale green bean before risking a nibble. "Then it's back home to work on the greenhouse with Father. He's breeding a new variety of Self-Fertilizing Shrub."
Susan wrinkled her nose. "That sounds... smelly."
"What about you?" Chris asked Susan, selecting a promising blue bean from the box. "Will you be at Bones Manor all summer?"
"Mostly," she confirmed. "Though Aunt Amelia promised to take me to the Ministry for a tour once things settle down a bit. What about you, Chris? Back to Emrys Manor?"
He nodded, savoring the blueberry flavor of his fortunate selection. "For a while. I might visit a few properties my family owns in France and Italy as well."
"When do you think we'll get our book lists?" Hannah asked, already thinking of the next school year's preparations.
"Usually late July," Susan replied. "We should coordinate our Diagon Alley trips. Maybe meet for ice cream at Fortescue's?"
Their fingers brushed as they both reached for the candy box, and they felt a spark, static from the dry air, but it jolted them nonetheless. Susan's cheeks colored slightly as she quickly withdrew her hand, allowing Chris to take the box.
"That sounds perfect," Chris agreed, pretending not to notice her reaction. "I'll send an owl with dates that work for me once I know my summer schedule."
The journey continued pleasantly, the three friends sharing stories and speculating about their second year at Hogwarts. Outside, the landscape gradually transformed from the wild Scottish highlands to the more cultivated fields of northern England, then the increasingly dense settlements as they approached London.
As afternoon faded toward evening, the Hogwarts Express finally began to slow, the outskirts of London visible through windows now speckled with rain. Students throughout the train stirred with renewed energy, changing out of school robes, gathering belongings, calling farewells to friends they wouldn't see until September.
"Here we are," Hannah said as the train pulled into Platform 9¾, steam billowing past their window. "Back to the real world."
They disembarked amid the controlled chaos of departing students and waiting families. Chris helped both girls with their trunks, placing them on trolleys with gentlemanly care. The platform hummed with activity, tearful reunions, excited chatter, parents examining report cards with varying expressions of pride or concern.
"There's my father," Hannah pointed toward a round-faced man with a kind smile, waving eagerly from near the barrier. "I'd better go. I'll write to you both, I've scheduled correspondence days in my planner!"
With quick hugs, she hurried off toward her waiting parent, her blonde plait bouncing as she pushed her trolley through the crowd.
"I see Aunt Amelia," Susan said, nodding toward a stern-looking witch in formal robes standing near the far end of the platform. "She must have taken time away from the Ministry specially."
"Don't forget to tell her hello from me," Chris said with a smile. "I look forward to seeing you soon."
Susan hesitated, then impulsively hugged him, her arms warm around his shoulders. "Have a good summer, Chris. Thank you for... well, everything this year."
He returned the embrace, allowing genuine warmth to show. "You too, Susan. It's been quite a year, hasn't it?"
They parted with promises to write, and Chris watched her join her aunt, noting the respectful nods Amelia Bones received from passing witches and wizards. The woman's political capital had increased significantly since the Pettigrew revelation.
Standing alone on the platform, Chris took a moment to appreciate what he had accomplished in his first year: Voldemort destroyed completely, Harry freed from his Horcrux, Sirius Black exonerated, and the pureblood power structure fundamentally destabilized. Not to mention excellent exam results, genuine friendships, and a summer ahead to continue his research and planning.
With a satisfied smile, he turned toward the public Floo that would take him back to Ambrosia Manor, his determination renewed for the challenges that still lay ahead. The wizarding world was already changing for the better, and Christopher Emrys Ambrosia, last descendant of Merlin, reincarnated wizard with a second chance, had only just begun.