Snow had draped itself across the castle like a heavy quilt by the time Christmas arrived. The towers and turrets of Hogwarts were brushed in white, icicles hanging like glass teeth from the eaves, and the lake had frozen over so perfectly that it mirrored the grey sky like polished silver. Inside, the warmth of the enchanted fires and the soft golden glow of floating candles in every corridor dulled the bitter cold, and wreaths of holly and pine had found their way onto every door, arch, and banister.
Christmas at Hogwarts had always been something Ethan imagined fondly, but living it, experiencing it in real time, was something else entirely.
It was quiet.
Not empty, but still.
Many students had gone home to spend the holidays with their families. The common room wasn't crowded with chatter or the clatter of chess pieces. The corridors were no longer clogged with hurrying feet. Even the Great Hall, with its grand Christmas trees and snow drifting lazily down from the bewitched ceiling, felt less like a gathering place and more like a cathedral, something sacred and hushed.
Ethan had decided to stay.
It wasn't a difficult decision, really. His mother had surprised him by choosing to remain at Hogwarts herself. He'd assumed she'd be gone the moment the term ended, some Ministry business or personal reason drawing her back into the world beyond the castle. Like the problem which had occurred with Lucius Malfoy. But when he'd asked, casually, as if it didn't matter, she'd smiled and simply said, "I want to stay"
He didn't press her for details. Not yet. There were too many questions already lingering in the back of his mind. And besides, the silence of the castle gave him something he hadn't had for a while, space.
Luna had gone home, which meant no shadow at his heels. No small, quiet voice speaking about oddities and riddles beside him.
And so, Ethan returned to the Room of Requirement.
It was late when he stepped into the seventh-floor corridor, his footsteps echoing gently on the stone floor. He passed the tapestry of the dancing trolls once, then again, and a third time, thinking, focusing.
I need a place to practice. A place to study. A place where I can be alone.
The door appeared without a sound, the stone wall rippling as if taking a breath. Ethan pushed it open.
Inside, the Room had changed again.
It was longer this time, shaped like an old dueling hall with worn flagstones and faint scorch marks lining the ground. One side was filled with shelves of magical theory, thick volumes bound in leather and enchanted parchment. The other side housed a simple practice area with magically conjured dummies, some floating target charms, and a row of spell diagrams that flickered in and out of visibility as if inviting him to decipher them.
Ethan closed the door behind him and took a deep breath.
This was what he needed.
He reached into his satchel and pulled out the small, carefully labeled notebook he'd been filling over the past few weeks. It wasn't like the other students'—no sprawling paragraphs or untidy scribbles. Ethan's notes were precise, methodical, color-coded and categorized by school of magic, risk, and difficulty. He flipped through it, stopping at the page marked: Investigative Charms & Sensory Enchantments (Beginner Level).
Three spells. That was his goal.
He took out his wand, and then began with the simplest.
Revelio Privata
A charm designed to highlight hidden objects, notes tucked into robes, secret compartments in books, thungs hidden by other spells. Its light was faint and brief, but its useful was obvious.
Ethan traced the motion, speaking clearly.
"Revelio Privata."
A shimmer rippled over the shelf nearest him. One book flickered gold, then returned to normal. Curious, he walked over, pulled it free. A thin slip of paper had been pressed inside, a hand-drawn rune sketch and a few notes written in French. A student's forgotten study sheet?
He set it aside and smiled faintly.
The charm worked.
Runes were things he hadnt studied much about, so he might as well keep this paper for when he does.
Perhaps next year he would take a class for that, or maybe another year.
Byt the next spell, Sententia Perceptum.
A charm that temporarily enhanced the caster's ability to perceive magical disturbances. Soundless. Visualless. Just a feeling, like a breath down the neck or a faint pull in the stomach.
Ethan stood still, wand pointed down, eyes closed.
"Sententia Perceptum."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then… a flutter. A tug. He turned slightly, instinct guiding him, and opened his eyes.
The wall across the room seemed… warped. Faintly. Not visibly, not to the eye, but to the sense of it. He walked toward it slowly, wand still lowered.
There, beneath the third stone from the right, was a subtle enchantment. He didn't know what it was exactly, but it had been embedded long ago. Likely by the Room itself.
He let out a breath, both exhilarated and cautious.
That one would be useful later. Especially if his suspicions about his mother deepened.
He spent the next hour cycling through the spells again and again. Adjusting the wand movements. Modulating his tone. Learning to spot the failures and correct them. He was efficient. Not the strongest caster, but consistent. Repetition turned into habit, and habit turned into competence.
It wasn't flashy magic. But it was useful. Practical. Ethan didn't need spells that dazzled. He needed tools.
But there were some spells he would like to become proficient in, just in case he would need to harm something, or someone. A spell like Sectumsempra.
By the time he left the Room of Requirement, the candles in the hallway had begun to dim to their nighttime low, and the halls were utterly silent. Snow was still falling outside the tall windows, but the castle seemed still, asleep.
He returned to the Ravenclaw common room without seeing another soul.
As he stepped inside, the fire still burned low in the hearth, casting shadows across the room. He paused for a moment, expecting to see Luna curled on one of the chairs with a strange book in her lap, but of course, she wasn't there.
The silence pressed in again.
Ethan climbed the stairs to his dormitory, stowing his wand with the care of a habit well-formed. As he pulled the covers over himself and stared up at the dark canopy of his bed, his thoughts drifted to his mother once more.
She hadn't seemed tired last he checked. She hadn't looked worn or frayed. She had been animated even, her voice louder, her posture more confident. Her hair in constant new styles.
But something about her choosing to stay for the holidays, it nagged at him.
The next time he saw her, he'd look again.
Not just at her. Through her, if he had to.
Because even in the quiet, even in the snow, even with the castle asleep, something still lingered in the back of his mind.