The crisp morning air swept through the castle grounds as Ezekiel "Ez" Cassian Malverne sat by the Ravenclaw Tower window, deep in thought. His fingers absentmindedly traced the frost gathering along the glass—a sign of his increasing magical control. Ever since he had tapped into his cryokinetic abilities, he had been pushing his limits, seeking mastery over the magic that ran through his veins.
But something felt... incomplete.
The recent Quidditch match had brought him fame, but also attention. He could feel Flitwick and McGonagall's watchful eyes on him, as well as the curiosity of his friends, Elena Selwyn and Adrian Selwyn. Even Cedric Diggory, his closest friend outside of Ravenclaw, had begun asking questions about his unusual reflexes and ability to move unnaturally fast during matches.
Ez knew he couldn't avoid their suspicions forever.
Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts aside. Magic first, everything else later.
Tonight, he would test his limits again.
---
The training room hidden behind the Ravenclaw common room's library had become Ez's secret haven.
With no professors or students to distract him, he stood in the center of the room, exhaling a slow breath. His magic responded to his will, swirling around him like a winter storm waiting to be unleashed.
"Cryo-Kinesis."
A gust of frost spiraled from his palms as a blade of pure ice formed in his grasp. He took a deep stance, slashing through the air. The movements were sharp, controlled—until suddenly, the blade shattered.
Damn it.
He tried again, but the ice refused to hold form for long.
Frustration clawed at him. He was getting stronger, but still, his abilities felt raw, untamed. There had to be more—something deeper in his bloodline's magic that he hadn't uncovered yet.
And then, something strange happened.
A deep pulse of magic stirred in his chest, as if guiding him somewhere. It was a pull—a whisper in his very soul.
Ez followed it.
---
The pull led him through the castle's ancient hallways, past unused classrooms, until he stood before an old, forgotten door covered in intricate runes.
His breath hitched.
It was not just any door—this was something special.
Ez reached out, placing his palm against the cold stone. A sharp sting pricked his skin as his blood seeped into the engravings. The runes glowed with an eerie blue light, and with a low rumble, the door slowly unlocked.
Only the heir or lord can open it.
Ez stepped inside, his heart pounding.
Inside was a massive, circular dueling chamber, its walls lined with Ravenclaw symbols. The air was thick with magic long forgotten.
At the center of the chamber, a construct lay dormant—an enchanted warrior of pure flame.
As soon as Ez entered, its eyes flickered open.
---
The construct lunged without hesitation, its body radiating heat intense enough to melt stone.
Ez barely had time to react. He rolled to the side, summoning ice to his hands and hurling a barrage of frost-laced daggers.
They melted instantly upon impact.
"Too fast," he muttered, dodging another fiery strike.
He needed more than just brute force.
Tapping into his instincts, Ez channeled his magic differently—not just forming ice, but layering it on himself.
In an instant, frost crawled up his arms, encasing them in crystalline ice armor.
This time, when the construct attacked, he met fire with ice, blocking the blow with a reinforced gauntlet. The heat burned, but the ice held.
Breakthrough.
The battle raged on, but with every clash, Ez's magic became more refined, his reactions faster. He moved as if he was meant for this—as if his body and magic had finally aligned.
Then, seizing an opening, he unleashed his strongest spell yet.
"Glacial Chains!"
Thick chains of pure ice erupted from the ground, wrapping around the construct, freezing it in place.
With one final burst of magic, Ez shattered the frozen flames.
The construct collapsed.
---
As the battle ended, the chamber responded.
Ancient runes glowed across the walls, revealing long-forgotten knowledge of his ice magic's origins.
Ez stepped closer, reading the inscriptions.
"The blood of the First Winter shall awaken only to those worthy. The storm within must be tamed, lest it consume its wielder."
A shiver—not from the cold, but from something deeper—ran through Ez's spine.
His magic wasn't just a gift.
It was a legacy. A responsibility.
---
The next morning, Ez returned to breakfast in the Great Hall, his body sore from the battle.
His father, Thomas Malverne, and mother, Marissa, had sent letters asking about his studies, reminding him not to overwork himself.
But it was his little sisters, Alys and Celeste, who sent the most amusing letters.
Alys wrote:
"Stop making headlines at Hogwarts. It's annoying. Also, Daphne says hi. (She totally misses you but won't admit it.)"
Celeste, the youngest, simply scribbled:
"Big brother, win every game! And bring me candy!"
Ez smiled. Even here, miles away from home, his family never felt far.
But then, Elena Selwyn leaned across the Ravenclaw table, watching him closely.
"You look exhausted, Ez. What are you up to?"
Adrian, beside her, nodded. "Yeah. And don't try lying. We've known you too long."
Ez hesitated.
For the first time, he realized something important.
His magic was no longer just his secret.
And soon… others would start demanding answers.
---