Chapter 46 – Spells, Schemes, and Sparks of Friendship
After Fred handed him the three sickles with a mischievous grin, and George gave him a nudge of appreciation, Thomas sat still for a moment. The laughter around the Gryffindor common room faded into the background as he watched the silver coins in his palm catch the firelight. The twins' generosity—rarely seen behind their constant antics—stirred something warm in his chest.
But there was something else on his mind now.
He slipped the coins into his pocket and excused himself. "I'll be back later," he murmured.
The library was quiet at this hour, though not entirely deserted. Madam Pince gave him a sharp glance as he entered, but said nothing. Thomas walked with purpose toward a shadowy corner where he had noticed a shelf filled with older, weathered books—non-curriculum material, according to their worn bindings and tiny tags. He had spotted something interesting the day before, and now he pulled it from the shelf: Practical Household Charms for the Organized Witch.
He flipped through the yellowing pages until a familiar word caught his eye.
Geminio – The Doubling Charm
"Used to duplicate non-magical objects with varying accuracy. Requires concentration, a stable wand motion, and a clear mental image of the item being copied. Commonly used for paper, utensils, and laundry tags. Copies may fade or become unstable if the spell is poorly executed."
Perfect.
He tucked the book under his arm and crept back to Gryffindor Tower as quietly as he could, avoiding both the portraits and the occasional prefects still wandering the halls.
By the time he returned, the common room was mostly empty. The fire had burned down to red coals, and a few snores drifted from the staircases. He crouched near a low table, dragging it closer to the fireplace to get some light. Then he spread out several sheets of parchment, inked with the original version of the Hogwarts map he and the twins had worked on.
No Muffliato. He hadn't learned that yet.
So he worked in silence, with only the occasional creak of the floor above him to remind him he wasn't alone.
He raised his wand and tried his first cast.
"Geminio."
A jolt of warmth ran through his wrist—but nothing happened. The parchment remained as it was.
Frowning, he steadied his hand. Maybe his image wasn't clear enough. He closed his eyes and focused. The weight of the map, the feel of the parchment, the exact lines of ink.
"Geminio."
This time, a pale shimmer ran across the page. The parchment trembled—but no copy appeared.
Third time.
"Geminio."
With a sputter of white light, a second sheet blinked into existence beside the original. Thomas leaned forward. The lines were faint. Ink blurred. A section of the Grand Staircase was missing entirely.
But it was a start.
He rubbed his eyes and tried again.
Over the next hour, he cast the spell dozens of times. Some results faded after minutes. Others misaligned, duplicated backwards, or created ghostly echoes of the original. His arm ached, his fingers cramped.
But gradually, the results improved.
By the time the clock struck midnight, thirty serviceable copies of the map were stacked in a neat pile. Not perfect—but readable, detailed, and practical.
He exhaled, smiling in quiet triumph. Then, gathering the stack, he tiptoed up to his dorm and collapsed into bed.
Morning came swiftly, and with it the usual routine—washing, dressing, and a quick round of private space magic exercises in a quiet hallway niche.
At eight o'clock, he entered the Great Hall with the parchment bundle tucked under his arm. The room was buzzing with chatter and clinking cutlery, and he found Fred and George already deep in discussion over toast.
"Morning," he greeted, sliding into the seat beside them.
"Morning, Captain Map," George replied, noticing the bundle. "You brought presents?"
Thomas placed the thick stack of parchment onto the table. "Thirty copies. I added the other dormitories too, so you can spread this to more than just Gryffindors." He grinned. "Just don't call it the Space Edition."
Fred flipped through a sheet, eyebrows rising. "You labeled Slytherin's secret basement pantry?"
"That's not a pantry," Thomas said dryly. "It's a troll shelter. But sure, call it what you want."
George gave a low whistle. "You're brilliant."
"Don't get used to it."
Fred and George leapt from the table with copies in hand, vanishing into the crowds. Thomas watched them, chewing his toast, the corners of his mouth twitching.
They've got the instincts, he thought. In another life, we could've built a kingdom together.
Maybe here, they still could.
Charms class with the Hufflepuffs began at half-past eight. The classroom, with its tall windows and enchanted ceiling fans, felt more alive than any he'd entered so far.
Professor Flitwick greeted them with a cheery wave from his raised platform. "Welcome! I hope you're ready for some fun!"
Without further introduction, he flicked his wand. A nearby goblet sprouted legs, jogged in place, then broke into a jittery dance. Laughter echoed.
Then—another flick—and the goblet took to the air, twirling like a ballerina. It shattered into pieces mid-spin.
"Reparo!" he called, and the shards zipped back into place.
The students clapped, wide-eyed.
Flitwick chuckled. "Today, we begin with something much simpler—Lumos, the wand-lighting charm. Don't be fooled, though. Even the smallest spell teaches the most important lesson: control."
He paced the front of the room, eyes twinkling. "Charms differ from Transfiguration in one key way: we don't change the object's nature. We add attributes. Think of it as gifting your object a new talent."
Thomas nodded. That made sense—more than most explanations he'd read in books.
"Now then," Flitwick said. "Let's try. Everyone: Lumos!"
Wands raised. A flurry of attempts followed.
Thomas flicked his wand. "Lumos." His wand lit with a soft glow.
Around him, sparks burst, some students overpowered the spell, while others produced mere flickers. Brenda from Hufflepuff nearly blinded herself with an accidental flare.
Still, by the end of class, nearly everyone succeeded.
Flitwick beamed. "A marvelous first day!"
As the class dispersed, Fred and George cornered Thomas near the door. George handed him a small pouch that clinked when it moved.
"Your cut," Fred said proudly.
Thomas blinked. "Already?"
"Nine sickles," George said. "And that's just the first half of the first batch."
Fred grinned. "Turns out Ravenclaws love maps. Who knew?"
Thomas opened the pouch, then looked up. "You two are dangerous."
"We know," they chorused.
He chuckled. "Keep it up. Just don't blow anything up before Halloween."
"No promises," Fred said, and they vanished into the crowd once more.
Thomas tucked the pouch into his robe pocket, heart lighter than it had been all week.
Maybe Hogwarts wasn't going to be so bad after all.