The first week at Hogwarts passed like the turning pages of a captivating book, each day revealing something new and extraordinary. For the little wizards, it was not just about discovering magic, but about understanding its depths, its rules, and its possibilities.
On Tuesday, the second day of the week, the students climbed the stairs to a sunlit classroom where Professor Flitwick, a tiny, cheerful wizard with a shock of white hair and bright eyes, awaited them. The Charms classroom was filled with an airy, vibrant energy. Flitwick stood on a stack of books to see over his desk and greeted each student by name with a warm smile. The first lesson involved the Levitation Charm, Wingardium Leviosa. Louis mastered it quickly, his feather floating with elegant precision above the desk. Professor Flitwick was delighted. "Excellent wand control, Mr. De Versailles! Ten points to Ravenclaw!" he chirped, clapping his small hands.
Wednesday brought the dark, humid dungeons of the Potions classroom, where Professor Snape glided across the cold stone floor like a shadow. His presence was silent but menacing, and his eyes scanned the first-years with barely concealed disdain. "There will be no foolish wand-waving here," he began in a silken, dangerous tone. Louis, ever observant, watched the potion master closely, analyzing each instruction with care. When asked to brew a simple Cure for Boils, Louis's potion turned the exact shade of blue specified in the textbook. Snape paused at his cauldron, peered in, and said only, "Adequate." But Louis could see a flicker of something in his eyes—approval, perhaps.
Thursday's Herbology lesson took place in one of the greenhouses. The air was thick with the scent of earth and magic. Professor Sprout, covered in dirt from head to toe, introduced them to magical plants like Puffapods and Gillyweed. Although Louis appreciated the value of the subject, his interest waned with each passing minute. The soil under his nails and the messiness of the greenhouse did not appeal to his meticulous nature. He performed the tasks well but was clearly disinterested.
Friday was perhaps the most thrilling. In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Professor Allister Moorcroft, a former dueling champion with a stern face and commanding voice, introduced the class to magical threats and their defenses. Louis found himself deeply engaged. When Moorcroft demonstrated a Shield Charm, Louis instinctively analyzed the mana flow and tried it himself after class, replicating the barrier with considerable success. Moorcroft watched him from the corner of the room, taking mental notes.
Yet even this fascinating class carried with it a subtle sense of unease—students whispered about the so-called "curse" that plagued the position. It was said no Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had lasted more than a year in decades. Louis took note, curious, but unfazed. For now, Professor Moorcroft commanded respect.
By the end of the week, Louis's schedule was far fuller than that of any other first-year. He had joined nearly every academic club offered to upper-year students: Advanced Transfiguration, Theoretical Spellwork, Magical Theory Circle, and even Historical Arcana,. The only one he politely declined was the Botanical Club.
On Friday evening, as he returned to the Ravenclaw common room, a parchment arrived bearing the official crest of Hogwarts. He was summoned to the Headmaster's office.
Curious and calm, Louis made his way to the stone gargoyle and whispered the password given in the letter: "Dragonberry Tart"
The gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a spiraling staircase that carried him upward into a circular office filled with silvery instruments, portraits of former headmasters, and the soft rustling of Fawkes, the phoenix, perched near the window.
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Ah, Monsieur De Versailles. Please, come in."
Louis bowed his head respectfully and stepped forward.
"I trust your first week has been... stimulating?" Dumbledore asked.
"Very much so, Headmaster," Louis replied with sincerity. "Hogwarts has exceeded my expectations."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I've noticed you've taken on quite a demanding schedule. Are you sure it's not too much for a first-year?"
Louis smiled faintly. "I find joy in knowledge. The more I learn, the more I feel at home."
"Spoken like a true Ravenclaw," Dumbledore mused. "But I did not summon you only to speak of timetables. I wished to meet you properly, Louis. I am fond of students who seek magic not only for power, but for understanding."
Louis tilted his head. "I seek meaning in magic, sir. Not just utility."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed. "In that case, I have a little mystery to share with you. A legend, passed down quietly through the centuries. It is said that each of Hogwarts' founders created a hidden room, filled with knowledge, tests, or artifacts meant for worthy successors. These rooms have not been found—or if they have, none have spoken of it."
Louis's heart stirred. "Do you believe they exist, Headmaster?"
"I believe Hogwarts is more than stone and enchantment. I believe it responds to those who ask the right questions. And I believe one of those rooms might have belonged to R.S.—the mysterious abbreviation used by scholars who suspect it refers to Rowena, though her full name remains lost in certain magical records."
Louis left the office with a mission burning in his mind. That night, by candlelight, he buried himself in books about the castle's history. For hours he read: Hogwarts: A History, Arcane Architecture, Whispers Between the Stones. Then, in a leather-bound volume titled Mystic Vaults of the Old School, he found a peculiar passage:
"Where the eagle's eye cannot see, yet mind may unravel the knot—there lies the threshold of R.S.'s legacy."
He read it again, lips moving silently. It felt like more than metaphor. It felt like a clue.
Back in the common room, he examined every corner. Evangeline and Cho Chang joined him in the search after he shared the cryptic line. Together, they scoured the nooks and forgotten shelves of the circular chamber. Evangeline's sharp eye spotted ancient dust trails that Louis hadn't noticed, and Cho offered a theory based on the positioning of the stars on an enchanted ceiling mural.