The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the Ravenclaw common room as Ezekiel Cassian Malverne leaned over a thick tome, the parchment beneath his fingers worn from centuries of age. The words within spoke of lost magical techniques, but the complexity of the spells made them difficult to decipher. The grimoire had been one of many hidden deep within his family vaults, untouched for generations. Now, it was his to study, to master.
But tonight, no matter how many times he reread the passage, something felt off.
"Why won't this spellwork align?" he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in.
Across from him, Elena lazily flipped through a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, sparing him a glance. "Maybe because you've been at it for hours? You're trying to reconstruct an entire lost branch of magic overnight, Ez."
Adrian chuckled, setting his quill down. "You act like you're on some kind of time limit. We still have months left in the year."
Ezekiel sighed and leaned back, rubbing his temples. "It's not about time, it's about control. This spell is part of my family's inheritance magic, but I can't shape it properly. Every time I try, it just—"
He flicked his fingers toward an empty goblet on the table. A thin layer of frost formed over the metal, creeping along the surface before violently shattering into tiny shards.
Elena whistled. "Impressive, but also kind of terrifying."
Adrian smirked. "At least we know you're not secretly part Veela or something. Would be funny if it turned out all this time your magic just hated you."
Ezekiel rolled his eyes but couldn't deny the growing concern in his mind. His ice affinity was strong—too strong. If he didn't figure out a way to control it, it could become a liability.
---
The next morning, Ezekiel found himself in the Dueling Room, his wand firmly gripped in his right hand as he faced Professor Flitwick.
"Control, Mr. Malverne, is not about suppression," the tiny professor said, his keen eyes twinkling. "Magic is alive. If you resist it, it resists you in turn. You must learn to guide it, not force it."
Ezekiel nodded, adjusting his stance. Across from him, a dueling dummy enchanted to react like a real opponent stood in waiting.
"Again," Flitwick instructed.
Ezekiel took a breath and flicked his wand. A stream of cold air shot forward, forming sharp ice shards midair. This time, he focused on restraint, keeping the magic tightly controlled—but at the last moment, the spell overloaded, sending a blast of frost across the room.
Flitwick raised a shield, blocking the icy wave. "Better, but not quite there yet."
Ezekiel clenched his jaw. "I need to master this before it becomes dangerous."
Flitwick smiled knowingly. "Then let's try something different."
---
Later that evening, as Ezekiel walked into the Great Hall, he couldn't ignore the way students whispered when he passed. His first Quidditch match had already elevated his reputation, but now word of his magical abilities was spreading.
He took his usual seat with Adrian and Elena, but before they could start eating, a group of older Ravenclaws approached.
"Malverne," one of them greeted with a nod. A sixth-year prefect, Marcus Avery. "Impressive work in both Quidditch and academics. It's rare to see someone balance both so well."
Ezekiel remained neutral. "I do what I can."
Avery exchanged looks with the others before continuing. "There's been talk among some of the more traditional families about you. You're gaining influence quickly, and not just among students. Some think you could be… important, politically speaking."
Ezekiel studied him carefully. "And what do you think?"
The older student smirked. "I think we should talk sometime. Hogwarts is more than just a school—it's the perfect place to start shaping the future."
As Avery walked away, Adrian leaned in. "That wasn't ominous at all."
Elena frowned. "They're testing the waters. You're making waves, Ez. They want to see if you'll play along."
Ezekiel exhaled slowly. He had always known that power attracted attention. Now, it seemed, Hogwarts was no exception.
---
That night, Ezekiel returned to the hidden chamber in Ravenclaw Tower, determined to make progress.
Placing his hand against the ancient door, he felt the familiar pulse of magic as it scanned his bloodline. The entrance shimmered open, revealing the forgotten sanctum of Rowena Ravenclaw herself.
Tonight, he wasn't just here to explore. He had a goal.
Taking a deep breath, he extended his hand and called upon his inheritance magic. The room responded—frost crawling along the walls, books trembling on their shelves. The magic recognized him.
And then, something unexpected happened.
A voice, faint but unmistakable, whispered through the chamber.
"You have returned… at last."
Ezekiel's breath hitched. Was it a memory? A spirit? Or something else entirely?
Either way, it was clear—he was only beginning to unlock the true legacy of House Ravenclaw.
---