By this time, the entire castle had fallen silent.
Ark had taken a short nap, and when he woke, he was ready to head out.
Click—
The door to the dormitory opened, and as Ark stepped through, his figure rippled like water—and vanished completely.
He had drawn his wand and cast a spell of concealment on himself—the Disillusionment Charm.
This charm allowed a person or object to blend seamlessly with their surroundings, much like a chameleon, effectively rendering them invisible.
In the wizarding world, there existed a magical item known as an Invisibility Cloak. One of the ways to create such a cloak was by enchanting an ordinary travel cloak with this very charm, though the spell's effect would gradually weaken over time.
Ordinarily, the Disillusionment Charm only changed one's colors, and a careful observer could still spot the person if they looked closely. But if the caster's magical control was strong enough, the charm could achieve true invisibility.
Knowing this, Ark had deliberately practiced the spell before coming to Hogwarts. With the help of his unique gift—Mind Guidance—he'd trained relentlessly until he could barely manage complete invisibility before the school year began.
After casting the Disillusionment Charm, Ark added a Silencing Charm to erase the sound of his footsteps and even his breathing.
Only after making sure everything was perfect did he step out of the dormitory, moving quietly toward the common room.
By now, the Ravenclaw common room was almost deserted.
Almost—but not quite.
In one shadowed corner, a boy and a girl were making out rather enthusiastically.
Ark glanced their way and, for a split second, seriously considered tossing a high-powered Lumos Flash their way—just so those two pimple-faced lovebirds could find out what it felt like to go blind.
In the end, he restrained himself, silently slipping past them and out of the common room. He descended from Ravenclaw Tower and entered the castle proper.
He had to admit—Hogwarts at night had a distinctly eerie atmosphere, like stepping into a medieval fortress swallowed by darkness.
The corridor lights flickered. Every so often, a candle illuminated the stone walls, casting long, twitching shadows over the suits of armor lining the passage. The whole scene sent a chill crawling up his spine.
Portraits hung everywhere along the walls, their inhabitants wide awake and active. Some sang, some read, some chatted or played pranks—and some even wandered into neighboring frames. The effect was less "magical" and more "haunting." At least, that was how Hogwarts felt at night.
"…And there are actually students who like sneaking out after curfew," Ark muttered under his breath. "They must have nerves of steel."
He tightened his grip on his wand.
Just then, two ghosts drifted out of the wall right beside him. Ark nearly jumped out of his skin and almost fired off a spell in reflex.
"The Bloody Baron was howling again up in the Astronomy Tower," one ghost complained. "So annoying. I swear I'm reporting him to Dumbledore tomorrow."
"What good would that do? You think Dumbledore can throw the Slytherin House ghost out of the castle?"
"Then I'll complain to the Grey Lady. Maybe she can talk some sense into him."
"I'll support you—so long as you don't drag me along. I'd rather not find out what dying a second time feels like."
The two ghosts floated past him, bickering loudly. Ark stood frozen, feeling like a complete idiot.
"…If complaints actually worked," he muttered, "I'd report the two of you first."
He decided he'd had enough of the corridors and picked up his pace toward the upper floors.
His destination was the eighth floor.
Up there were the office of the Head of Ravenclaw House, the classroom and office for Divination—an elective starting in third year—and even the entrances to the Gryffindor common room and the Headmaster's office.
But none of those were what Ark was looking for.
Once he reached the floor, he grew extra cautious, worried he might run into an elderly wizard sneaking out for a midnight bathroom trip.
His Disillusionment Charm might fool Argus Filch, or even a patrolling professor or Prefect, but there was no fooling Albus Dumbledore. Just being on this floor made Ark a little anxious.
"It shouldn't be too hard to find…" he whispered.
Using Mind Guidance to steady his nerves, he made several rounds of the eighth floor corridor, carefully observing the portraits and decorations on the walls.
At last, his patience was rewarded.
There it was—the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls.
Barnabas had tried to teach a group of trolls to dance ballet. The trolls, not quite grasping the concept, responded by repeatedly beating him with their clubs, leaving him swollen and bruised.
"Finally."
Ark smiled, taking a moment to enjoy the absurd scene before turning to face the wall opposite the tapestry.
He began to pace back and forth.
"I need a place to practice magic… I need a place to practice magic…"
He muttered the phrase as he walked past the spot three times.
And then, before his eyes, the once-blank wall began to shift.
Patterns emerged across the stone, and within seconds, an ornate door outlined itself in the surface.
Ark grinned.
"Found you—the Room of Requirement."
How could he possibly come to Hogwarts and not visit it at least once?
This magical room appeared only to those who truly needed it, providing whatever space they desired—so long as they followed the proper steps to summon it. It was secret, convenient, and in the original story, had served as the protagonists' secret base—and later, a crucial turning point.
At present, the only ones who knew of it were Dumbledore, who'd once stumbled upon it while looking for a chamber pot, and a few House-elves—none of whom had any reason to wander here tonight.
For Ark, who wanted a private place to train, this was the perfect choice.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The moment he entered, the door behind him vanished. Candles flared to life, filling the room with warm, flickering light.
What spread before him was a vast chamber with a high ceiling and solid walls. Various tools and targets for magical training were neatly arranged throughout.
Ark nodded in satisfaction. Here, no matter what kind of spell he practiced, no one would hear a thing.
"From now on," he said quietly, "this'll be my secret base."
He circled the room once, then stopped at the center and raised his wand.
Activating Mind Guidance, he steadied his thoughts. His emotions grew calm—bright, positive, and joyful.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A happy memory—the brightest moment of his life—flashed through his mind as he traced a circle through the air and spoke the incantation with force.
A silver-white mist burst from the tip of his wand, swirling rapidly before him.
The Patronus Charm—one of the most famous spells known to wizards, and among the most powerful defensive magic ever devised.
It was considered ancient and profoundly advanced—far beyond the reach of ordinary wizards. Casting it successfully was extremely difficult.
Its most renowned ability was driving away Dementors and Lethifolds, two terrifying dark creatures that fed on human happiness. Aside from the Patronus Charm, no other known magic could repel them, making this spell uniquely significant.
Because it was so difficult to master, very few wizards could perform it. Those who could were regarded as exceptionally gifted. Any student capable of producing one before graduation often attracted the attention of the Ministry of Magic—and those who could conjure a corporeal Patronus were frequently nominated for high-ranking positions in the Wizengamot or the Ministry itself.
Even among successful casters, there was a vast difference between an incorporeal and a corporeal Patronus, the latter being far more powerful—and far harder to achieve.
Yet Ark's Patronus was already beginning to take solid form. The silver mist was gathering quickly, its shape almost complete.
But instead of joy, a frown creased Ark's brow. He abruptly cut the spell short.
"No," he muttered, shaking his head. "That's not the Patronus I imagined."
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200 p.s for extra chapter
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