Harry pushed open the door to the Charms classroom, its brass handle cool against his palm. The room inside was bathed in warm, natural light from the tall arched windows, giving the space a welcoming and vibrant atmosphere compared to the cold, dark dungeons they had just come from. Rows of desks were arranged neatly, each one with an empty spot for a student. The walls were lined with shelves full of various magical trinkets, small objects that Harry assumed would be used for practical lessons later in the year.
Harry glanced around for a moment, assessing where to sit. He noticed that some of his fellow Gryffindors were already gathering closer to the front, but Harry preferred a more discreet spot. He made his way toward the back of the room, sliding into a desk that offered a good view of both the front of the classroom and the students around him.
As he sat down, Harry noticed the door open again, and a group of Ravenclaw students filed in, their blue-and-bronze ties standing out against the bright light in the room. Harry had almost forgotten that the class wasn't just for Gryffindors; it was one of the joint lessons that combined both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students. He scanned the room, seeing several familiar faces from the Ravenclaw table, including Padma Patil, who Harry remembered from the Sorting Ceremony.
Harry could feel a sense of quiet rivalry between the houses already. Gryffindor students were known for their bravery, while Ravenclaws prided themselves on their intellect and cleverness. This was only their first Charms lesson, but Harry knew there would be an unspoken competition between the two houses to perform well in class.
Neville and Hermione sat nearby, though Hermione had chosen a seat closer to the middle, eager to be near the professor for better focus. Ron, on the other hand, slouched into his chair next to Seamus Finnigan, clearly uninterested in the front row.
Harry had barely settled into his seat when the classroom door opened once again. A small figure stepped inside, almost bouncing as he moved, his face beaming with enthusiasm. It was none other than Professor Flitwick, the diminutive Charms professor, who immediately captured everyone's attention with his high-pitched, cheery voice.
"Good morning, class! Welcome to your very first Charms lesson!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement and energy. He carried a large stack of books, which he promptly dropped onto his desk at the front of the room. The impact was so dramatic that Professor Flitwick nearly disappeared behind the towering pile. Harry and the other students stifled smiles as the tiny professor popped his head out from behind the books, completely unfazed by the near mishap.
Harry smiled to himself, recalling the name from the many books he'd read. Professor Flitwick was famous for his expertise in Charms and had even been a champion duelist in his younger years. He was one of the kindest professors at Hogwarts, known for his patience and encouragement toward students of all abilities.
As Professor Flitwick started organizing his materials, Harry took a deep breath and settled into his seat. Despite his interest in Charms, he had already decided to keep a low profile during this class—and throughout the rest of his lessons at Hogwarts, for that matter. He had grown up knowing magic, studying it in secret from the books he found in the mysterious castle he'd stumbled upon long before his letter even arrived. He had become proficient in many spells that far exceeded the skill level of even a typical fifth-year student.
But Harry had also learned an important lesson: knowledge and power should not be flaunted unnecessarily. There was no reason to draw attention to himself, especially when he didn't need to. He was already "The Boy Who Lived," a name that carried weight and expectations beyond his control. And if he ever found himself in a do-or-die situation—whether it be dueling an enemy or escaping a dangerous circumstance—he wanted to have something in reserve, something no one else would expect. For now, he was content to blend in with the other first-years, performing just well enough to avoid suspicion.
As Professor Flitwick began the lesson, he spoke animatedly about the importance of Charms in everyday magic and their versatility in both simple and complex tasks. Harry listened attentively, nodding along as the professor outlined the basics, but he refrained from showing too much enthusiasm. He already knew most of what was being discussed, having practiced spells like Wingardium Leviosa and Alohomora in before coming to Hogwarts. Yet, instead of participating eagerly like Hermione, who had her hand up at nearly every opportunity, Harry remained quiet, taking notes and only answering when directly called upon.
The Ravenclaws, however, were quick to show their natural curiosity. Padma Patil and Michael Corner seemed to be taking vigorous notes, their quills scratching across their parchments as they tried to capture every word Professor Flitwick said. Hermione, not wanting to be outdone, had her hand raised high after nearly every sentence, answering questions with precision and a glint of competitive determination in her eyes.
When Professor Flitwick finally moved on to practical demonstrations, the classroom buzzed with excitement. "Now, today we'll start with something very basic—levitation!" he said, waving his wand with a flourish. "The Levitation Charm, or Wingardium Leviosa, is one of the most fundamental spells every young witch and wizard should know."
He demonstrated the charm with ease, causing a nearby feather to rise gracefully into the air before bringing it back down to his desk. The class let out a collective sound of awe as they watched the feather hover above the desk for a few moments.
"Now, let's give it a try, shall we?" Flitwick beamed, gesturing to the students. "Remember, it's not just about the words but the swish and flick of your wand. Wingardium Leviosa!"
The students eagerly followed his lead, and soon the room was filled with murmured incantations, accompanied by awkward flicks of wands and failed attempts to levitate the feathers placed in front of them. Neville's feather barely moved, and he groaned in frustration. Hermione, on the other hand, was diligently practicing the correct movements, her concentration evident as she worked to perfect the spell.
Harry took his time, watching the others before attempting the spell himself. When he finally raised his wand, he did so with precision, performing the necessary swish-and-flick motion while murmuring, "Wingardium Leviosa." The feather on his desk trembled slightly, hovering a few inches above the surface before floating gently back down.
"Very good, Mr. Potter!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with approval as he passed by Harry's desk. "Excellent control for a first day's attempt!"
Harry nodded politely, grateful that Flitwick hadn't made too much of a fuss over it. He could have made the feather soar high into the air or float around the room effortlessly, but he had no intention of drawing attention. For now, he was content with being seen as just another student learning magic for the first time.
Across the room, Harry noticed some of the Ravenclaws were already succeeding as well. Padma Patil's feather hovered gracefully in midair, while Terry Boot's had shot straight up before he lost control and it tumbled back down to the desk with a soft thud. Despite this, the Ravenclaws seemed to be enjoying the challenge, their natural academic tendencies pushing them to perfect the spell.
Meanwhile, Hermione had finally succeeded in levitating her feather perfectly, and Flitwick praised her as well, much to her delight. Ron, however, was still struggling, muttering under his breath about how difficult it was and how Hermione made it look too easy.
As the lesson came to an end, Harry reflected on the day's events. Charms had always been one of his favorite branches of magic, but today had reinforced his decision to hold back. He could feel the familiar thrill of using magic, of making things happen with just a flick of his wand, but there was a deeper satisfaction in knowing that he had more power than he let on.
As the Charms class ended, Harry joined the steady stream of students heading toward the Great Hall for lunch. The morning had been an odd mix of excitement and self-restraint for him, from navigating Snape's pointed questions in Potions to holding back his true abilities during Charms. But now it was time for a break, and Harry was looking forward to it.
When they reached the Great Hall, the long tables were already laid out with a spread of delicious food. Harry, Neville, and Hermione found seats at the Gryffindor table, piling their plates high with shepherd's pie, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread. The room buzzed with lively chatter as students from all four houses ate and talked about their morning classes.
The lunch break was longer than usual, giving students enough time to socialize, explore the castle, or catch up on any missed notes. As Harry dug into his food, he noticed several pairs of eyes from the Ravenclaw table casting glances in his direction. He felt his stomach tighten slightly. Over the past few days, he'd grown used to the stares, the whispers, and the not-so-subtle curiosity. Being "The Boy Who Lived" came with a level of fame he wasn't entirely comfortable with, but it was clear that people wanted to know more about him.
Soon, a small group of Ravenclaw students made their way over to the Gryffindor table. At the forefront were Padma Patil and Terry Boot, who had been in Charms class with Harry earlier. Behind them were a few other Ravenclaws whose names Harry hadn't yet learned. They approached with smiles, though their eyes were filled with curiosity.
"Harry Potter, right?" Padma said, taking a seat beside him without waiting for an invitation. Her voice was friendly but carried the distinct tone of someone trying to learn more. "I'm Padma, by the way. We were in Charms together."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I remember. Nice to meet you."
Terry Boot sat down on Harry's other side. "You did well in Charms," he remarked, sounding impressed. "I saw how easily you got that feather to levitate. Didn't seem like you struggled at all."
Harry shrugged, trying to deflect the compliment. "I've been practicing a bit before Hogwarts. Got lucky, I guess."
"Oh, come on," Terry replied, grinning. "You don't have to be modest. I'm sure there's a lot more to it than that."
As more Ravenclaws gathered around, the questions began pouring in. They weren't outright rude or invasive at first, just curious. But the more they asked, the more Harry realized they wanted to know personal things—things he wasn't prepared to share.
"How did you defeat You-Know-Who as a baby?" one Ravenclaw boy asked, leaning in with wide eyes.
"Were you raised by wizards?" another girl chimed in. "Or did you only learn about magic when you came here?"
"Is it true you're taught by Dumbledore ?" Terry added, his voice filled with excitement.
Harry's mind spun as the questions kept coming, each one more probing than the last. He wasn't used to this level of attention, and the more personal the questions became, the more guarded he felt. He had no intention of sharing intimate details about his life, his family, or the night Voldemort attacked.
He kept his answers brief, dodging the questions with a practiced ease that he didn't even realize he had developed. "I don't really remember," he said in response to the Voldemort question, which was true enough. "I didn't know I was a wizard until I met my godfather." That was a lie.
As the Ravenclaws pressed for more, Harry felt his guard rising higher. They were friendly enough, but he knew where this was going. The moment he started answering personal questions, there would be no end to it. They'd expect him to keep talking about his life, his history, his every thought. So, Harry decided to shut it down quickly.
"Look," he said, his tone polite but firm. "I don't really talk about personal stuff. I'm just here to learn like everyone else."
Padma looked a little disappointed, but she nodded. "That's fair," she said. "Sorry if we're coming on a bit strong. It's just—you know, people are curious."
"I get that," Harry said, his voice softening. "But I'm just Harry. Nothing more."
Despite the Ravenclaws' curiosity, Harry answered the general questions with ease—about Hogwarts, about lessons, and even about his impressions of some of the teachers. He found that talking about these mundane topics gave him more control over the conversation, allowing him to steer it away from uncomfortable areas.
But as he spoke, a realization began to dawn on him. Everyone expected something from him. Everyone assumed that because he was "The Boy Who Lived," he had something special to offer—insights, advice, leadership. Even though Harry wasn't sure he deserved such attention, it was clear that his name and reputation carried weight. People wanted to hear what he had to say, and whether he liked it or not, he had the ability to influence them.
He remembered back to his earlier thoughts in Charms, where he had decided to keep his talents hidden, to avoid drawing attention. But now he wondered if that was the right approach. What was the point of being famous if you didn't use that influence for good? What was the purpose of having a title if it wasn't going to help people?
In that moment, Harry made a decision. He would embrace the celebrity status thrust upon him, but he wouldn't act like a pompous show-off. Instead, he would use his fame to help others, to guide people toward good causes and make things better. If another war ever broke out—or if danger ever loomed again—Harry wanted as many allies as possible. He didn't want people to turn against him. He wanted them to support him.
This shift in mindset made him rethink his behavior toward certain people, especially Draco Malfoy. He remembered the disdain in Draco's eyes during Potions class, the tension between them. Draco had clearly expected a rivalry, but Harry saw no value in making enemies unnecessarily. Sure, Draco was pompous and rude, but fighting with him wouldn't accomplish anything meaningful.
He decided then that he would stop glaring at Draco and wouldn't be rude to Ron, even if they disagreed at times. Building bridges was more important than burning them. If Harry was going to navigate the complexities of Hogwarts, he needed allies from all houses, not just Gryffindor. He would use his influence wisely—not for vanity, but for the betterment of everyone around him.
Harry looked around the Great Hall, seeing the different houses mingling, each one with its own distinct culture and values. He knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but he felt more determined than ever. He wouldn't let the weight of expectations crush him. Instead, he'd use them to lift others up.