Chapter 11: History of Magic

Afternoon class was History of Magic, shared between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Sitting just ahead of Wade was a boy with pale blonde hair, flanked by two plump, sycophantic companions. Wade recognized him immediately—Draco Malfoy, the antagonistic foil to the protagonist for seven long years in the original story. Yet, despite the usual rivalry between the houses, Slytherin and Ravenclaw maintained a surprisingly cordial relationship. Malfoy wasn’t spewing venom at every turn. In fact, aside from a certain haughty tone and the occasional boast about his family’s wealth and status, he was relatively polite in class.

But of course, that changed the moment Harry Potter was mentioned.

As Professor Binns drifted through the wall, his translucent form materializing mid-air, Malfoy was still whispering insults about Harry to his cronies:

"Always showing off that scar on his head like it’s some kind of medal—like it makes him special. Hanging out with that stinky Weasley kid, covered in that cheap, poor-blood smell—"

A ripple of disapproval passed through the Ravenclaw students. Several quietly shifted their seats away from the Slytherins.

—No matter what the future held, Harry Potter was still a legend in the wizarding world. These children had grown up hearing tales of his bravery. Malfoy’s words, though harsh, were a jarring reminder of truths many preferred to forget.

"Did you hear?" Michael murmured, leaning close to Wade. "Malfoy—well, I mean, Draco Malfoy’s father was one of Voldemort’s Death Eaters." He lowered his voice further. "After Voldemort was defeated, he claimed he’d been under the Imperius Curse. And then he donated a fortune to the Ministry—enough to buy his freedom. You can tell, just by looking at Draco, that his father still resents Harry for defeating his master. It’s rubbed off on him."

Wade silently shook his head. He knew Malfoy wasn’t that deep. In fact, from what he remembered, Malfoy had initially tried to befriend Harry—only to be rebuffed by Harry’s cold dismissal of his arrogance. A spoiled boy from a noble house, raised to believe he was superior, couldn’t bear being rejected. So he’d turned his resentment into a lifelong feud.

"Try not to take him seriously," Michael warned. "And don’t get too close. The Malfoys are among the most rigid in the Twenty-Eight Noble Families."

"Twenty-Eight Noble Families?" That was a term Wade hadn’t heard before.

"The old pure-blood families," Michael explained casually. "No Muggle ancestry. No Muggle-born marriages. But honestly, my dad says it’s all nonsense—most of the families on the list have Muggle ancestors, or at least claim to."

…

Truth be told, History of Magic was a soul-crushing class. Professor Binns droned on in a hypnotic monotone, reading from a scroll without pause, without interaction, without even glancing up. His voice was raspy, flat, and slurred—like a ghost reading a textbook in his sleep. Within minutes, half the class had slumped over their desks. The rest were either napping or secretly sketching gameboards on their parchments, playing wizarding chess in silence.

Wade, however, tuned out the professor’s lullaby. He was sketching a timeline on a blank sheet of paper—mapping key dates, major figures, and pivotal events in wizarding history. The upcoming History of Magic exam would test exactly this. His desk also held a borrowed copy of Hogwarts: A History, open beside his timeline. He found himself wondering: what incredible adventures must the four founders have lived through? How had Hogwarts shaped the magical world over the past thousand years?

History itself was fascinating. It was only Binns who made it unbearable.

When the bell rang, the professor’s voice cut off mid-sentence. He floated slowly through the wall and vanished without a word.

Wade nudged Michael awake. “Let’s go to the library. We’ve got that essay—‘Demon Emeryk’s Terrorist Rule’—one foot long.”

"You’re impossible," Michael grumbled as they walked. "No one at Hogwarts is more diligent than you. I bet everyone else is waiting until the last minute to write theirs."

Before he could finish, a wobbling figure passed by—Hermione Granger, arms stacked high with books. She paused when she saw Wade, set the entire pile down on the table with a thud that made the wood groan, and plopped into a chair.

"Hi, Wade," she said cheerfully, already opening a book. "How’s Ravenclaw?"

"Other than the endless stairs, not bad," Wade replied. "Hermione, this is Michael Conner. Michael, this is Hermione Granger—we met on the train."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said, offering her hand with the boldness of a lion. "You’re a Ravenclaw too?"

Michael stared at the towering stack of books, swallowed hard, and shook her hand with hesitation. "I… guess so?"

In her presence, he felt utterly inadequate—like he didn’t even belong in the same house.

"—Guess?" Hermione frowned.

A strange sense of hierarchy settled over him, as if he were being dwarfed by some unseen force. He whispered, barely audible: "Can I ask… why do you have so many books? Are you really going to read them all?"

"Of course!" Hermione said, as if it were obvious. "These are all the ones I plan to finish this week."

Michael’s face turned pale. He shot a desperate look at Wade—What kind of world is this?

Wade gave him a subtle eyebrow raise.

Michael stopped complaining about being dragged into the library. He bent his head and focused on finishing his essay.

Meanwhile, Wade continued refining his timeline.

"Hey, that’s actually a really effective method," Hermione said, peering over his shoulder. "But you might get more out of it if you cross-reference it with Muggle history."

"Good idea," Wade said. "I’m planning to add that later." He pushed his completed section toward her. "You’ve read more than me—take a look. Any corrections?"

Hermione didn’t hesitate. She flipped open one of her books, flipped through pages with practiced ease.

"Here—Wand creation dates are unknown. Melena Sims’ main contribution was identifying eighteen types of wand wood and their magical properties. She also developed the Wand Compatibility Theory and the Simms Formula…" She paused, then pulled out another book. "In 382 BCE, the Ollivander family began crafting wands. To this day, they’re still the finest wandmakers in the world. Definitely a testable fact."

Her feather quill scribbled furiously across the parchment. Madam Pince, the strict librarian, kept casting sharp glances their way, as if ready to shoo them out at the first sign of noise.

Michael, meanwhile, felt himself shrinking with every passing moment. After a while, he quietly pulled out a fresh sheet and began copying Wade’s revised timeline—anything to keep up.

Then, suddenly, he froze. His eyes lit up.

"Hey," he whispered, nudging Wade with his elbow. "Look."

There, at the library door, stood Theo Mancini—just returned from Herbology, his clothes still speckled with greenhouse soil. Madam Pince had barred him from entering, not allowing anyone with dirt on their robes to cross the threshold.

Theo caught their gaze and waved excitedly, motioning for them to come outside.

Wade said goodbye to Hermione and gathered his things. Michael followed, joining Liam and Theo at the door, both Hufflepuffs looking like they’d just escaped a mud bath.

"Anything urgent?" Wade asked.

The two exchanged glances. Liam nodded toward Theo. "You’re the one who asked Professor Sprout."

Theo grinned. "Wade, you said this morning you wanted a quiet place to practice spells, right? I stayed after Herbology to help Professor Sprout. Then—I worked up the nerve to ask her…"

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end