(Author's note: I am not a writer, just taking my first step into creating fanfiction. I heavily used ChatGPT, so if there's anything wrong or things I should add, inform me so I can fix it.)
The morning air in Ravenclaw Tower carried a muted chill, the remnants of the Halloween chaos still clinging to the corridors. Evelyn moved quietly along the familiar hallways, her footsteps soft against the stone floors, as the first hints of sunlight spilled through the tall windows. She had intended to go straight to the Ravenclaw table for breakfast, to slip into the routine of the morning and gather her thoughts before the day began. Yet, even in these early moments, her mind refused to settle. The spell she had created last night—the protective charm born of her own intent, emotion, and the mysterious Nordic ruin fragment—lingered in her thoughts like a faint hum of power. Every flick of the wand she had practiced, every careful pronunciation of the incantation "Shieldum," replayed in her memory, and she couldn't help but feel the weight of the responsibility that came with it. It was more than a spell; it was a declaration of her capabilities, a tangible proof that she could create magic that belonged to the world.
Her contemplative stride was interrupted when Hermione appeared suddenly, stepping into her path with a sense of urgency that barely contained itself. "Evelyn, you can't just go on like this," Hermione whispered, grabbing her arm lightly but firmly. The intensity in her friend's eyes made Evelyn stop, taking a moment to adjust to the abruptness. Hermione's voice lowered as she continued, "That spell… it's not just something ordinary. You have to tell someone about it, and I think Flitwick should see it. Now." Evelyn nodded slowly, understanding the implication, but she was careful not to reveal anything about the inner workings of her system. Instead, she took a measured breath and began explaining what an observer could see: the specific wand movements, the deliberate arcs, the flicks and twists she had refined through practice. She spoke of the incantation itself, her voice steady as she pronounced "Shieldum," and described the focus of the spell, the emotion she had poured into it—protectiveness. She explained its function practically, emphasizing the physical aspect of the shield: it could block objects, cushion impacts, and form a subtle barrier around the body, keeping a person safe from harm without any magical deflection.
Hermione's eyes widened slightly as she listened, her quill moving furiously over her notes in the mind's eye. "Wait," she said, her tone a mixture of awe and urgency. "You're saying it's a new spell, something that doesn't exist in any textbook? This… this isn't just an experiment, Evelyn. This is real magic." Evelyn gave a small, almost shy nod, focusing on the clarity of her explanation. She avoided any reference to her system, instead describing the results that anyone could witness: how the shield pulsed faintly when she cast it, the way it seemed to mold itself naturally to the contours of her body, and how it reacted to external pressure. She spoke in practical terms, demonstrating the precise wand movements as best she could, her fingers tracing invisible arcs in the air as if the motion itself might be felt by those observing. Harry and Ron, trailing behind, watched silently, the usual humor and bravado absent in their faces, replaced by a tentative curiosity that made Evelyn feel the gravity of what they were witnessing.
Hermione's determination did not waver as she interjected again. "We can't just leave this unexamined. Flitwick is the Charms master—he'll know what to do, and he'll make sure it's documented properly." Evelyn felt the gentle tug of her friend's hand, guiding her through the castle corridors, past the familiar classroom doors and portraits, the ambient noise of morning students brushing past them. She allowed herself to be led, focusing instead on articulating every observable aspect of the spell. She described how she had concentrated her protective intent, how the shield seemed to respond more strongly when she imagined the safety of others, and how the Nordic rune fragment had, in some imperceptible way, lent the spell stability she could feel, even if she didn't fully understand why.
By the time they reached the Gryffindor table, the noise of the feast was filling the hall, the smell of fresh bread and pumpkin juice mingling with the low murmur of students laughing and discussing last night's events. Evelyn felt a quiet tension in her chest, a mixture of anticipation and lingering anxiety, knowing that the next step—meeting with Flitwick—would cement her spell's place in the magical canon. Hermione paused for a brief moment, giving Evelyn a look of unwavering support, and whispered, "You're ready. Just show him what you can do, explain it clearly, and let him see it with his own eyes." Evelyn nodded once more, inhaling slowly, centering herself. She could do this. She had to. And with that, the group moved together toward the staircase that would lead them to Flitwick's office, each step bringing her closer to a formal recognition of her own unique magical contribution.
Hermione's energy was nearly kinetic as she practically pulled Evelyn along the corridor, weaving between clusters of students who were still buzzing with the excitement of Halloween morning. Every few steps, she glanced back, making sure Harry and Ron were following, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and mild exasperation. "Evelyn, you don't understand," Hermione said urgently, her voice low but tense, "this isn't just a trick or a fluke. That spell… it's entirely new. There's no record of it anywhere. You've actually created something unique, and we can't let it go undocumented." Evelyn, though calm in demeanor, could feel the weight behind her friend's insistence. Hermione's urgency was not only about the spell itself—it was about procedure, about the preservation of magical knowledge, and perhaps, a need to see that Evelyn's effort and talent were properly recognized.
As they approached the spiral staircase leading up to Flitwick's office, Evelyn carefully began to summarize what could be explained without touching her system. She described the observable mechanics of the spell: the precise arcs and flicks of the wand, the careful hand positioning, the smooth, flowing motion that formed the shield. "The incantation is 'Shieldum,'" she said, her voice deliberate, emphasizing the Latin syllables. "It's tied to a specific intent. I… I focused on protectiveness. The shield responds to that emotion—against physical impacts, against sudden force. It's not meant to block magic, only physical objects or harm." Hermione's eyes brightened as she listened, the tiniest flash of awe appearing amid her determination. She scribbled notes mentally, clearly piecing together what would be vital for explaining the spell to Flitwick.
Ron, trailing a step behind, leaned toward Harry, whispering something indistinctly. Evelyn, sensing his confusion, spared him a glance but chose to remain focused on the practical explanation of the spell. There was no room for argument; right now, clarity was essential. She made sure to demonstrate the wand movement silently in her mind as she described it aloud, miming the arcs in the air to give Hermione a better visual sense of the precise motions. "It forms a barrier that is subtle but resilient," she continued, "it pulses slightly when an object hits it, almost like it senses the impact and adjusts. I've tested it against small physical forces, and it holds without faltering." She paused for a breath, realizing how extraordinary even a basic description of her creation sounded.
Hermione's intensity did not waver. She reached out, gripping Evelyn's arm to slow her pace, her tone lowering into an urgent whisper. "We have to go now. Flitwick will understand its significance instantly. He'll know this is more than first-year magic. You have to show him exactly what it does and how you cast it, before anyone else sees it or… or misinterprets it." Evelyn nodded, understanding completely. This was no time for hesitation. Every movement, every syllable, and every explanation had to be precise, because Flitwick would recognize the structure of the spell immediately, and it needed to be observed in its entirety.
By the time they reached the door to Flitwick's office, Evelyn's heart beat steadily, not from fear but from concentration. She felt a sense of responsibility settle on her shoulders, the full weight of her actions from the previous night now crystallizing in the present moment. Hermione gave her a final, encouraging nod, squeezing her hand gently before stepping aside. "Just explain it as clearly as you can. Show him the wand movement, the incantation, and what the spell does. He'll understand the rest." Evelyn inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of parchment and polished wood of the Charms office filling her senses, and with that, she was ready to demonstrate her first truly unique spell to the master himself.
The moment Evelyn stepped into Flitwick's office, the room seemed to brighten—not from any magic, but from the intensity of anticipation she carried with her. Professor Flitwick looked up from a stack of parchment, his eyes twinkling with curiosity and warmth, immediately sensing that something unusual had arrived at his door. "Good morning, Miss Carmichael," he said, his voice light yet probing. "What brings you here so early?" Evelyn took a steadying breath, glancing at Hermione briefly, and then turned to face the professor fully. "Professor," she began carefully, "I… I've created a spell. It's not in any textbook, and I wanted to show you so you could see what it does." She moved deliberately, setting her wand in her hand as if presenting a tool for inspection.
Flitwick's expression shifted into one of excited interest, the sparkle in his eyes growing sharper. "A new spell, you say?" he asked, leaning forward slightly on the edge of his desk. "Excellent! Let's see it, then. Show me what it does, and tell me everything you can about the casting." Evelyn nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. She started with the basics—the wand movements, each subtle flick and twist she had painstakingly practiced, explaining aloud the purpose behind each motion. "The wand arcs in a sweeping curve, then folds in on itself, ending with a subtle flick to complete the shield," she described, demonstrating with precise gestures. "The incantation is Shieldum, and the intent is protective—it responds to the feeling of protectiveness. It's focused on physical protection, not magical deflection."
Flitwick leaned forward, his hands clasped together, clearly absorbed. "Fascinating," he murmured, his voice betraying the thrill of a teacher seeing genuine innovation. "So it's a physical barrier rather than a magical one? How curious! Very well, cast it for me, if you please." Evelyn's heart thumped in her chest, but she focused, performing the motion she had practiced countless times. As the spell left her wand, a faint, shimmering barrier materialized in front of her—a soft, almost translucent shield that immediately responded to the smallest imaginary force she pressed against it. She described each effect aloud as she cast it, noting the slight pulse of energy, how it conformed naturally to the body, and how it expanded in response to contact.
Flitwick's eyes widened as he observed, stepping forward cautiously. "Ah, yes… I can feel it," he said, waving his own hand through the air to sense the structural flow. "It's structurally similar to Protego, of course, but its properties are quite different. Rather than deflecting magical energy, it reinforces physical integrity. An object or person could withstand impact without injury, yet it doesn't block spells. Remarkable." Evelyn nodded, careful not to interject anything about her system, but internally she felt a swell of pride at his recognition. She continued demonstrating the specific hand motions and the subtleties of the incantation, each element carefully explained, as Flitwick examined the spell from multiple angles.
The professor's enthusiasm grew as he gently took his own wand, mimicking the movements she had shown, and cast the spell himself. The effect was immediate—the shield blossomed into a subtle, tangible dome that reflected the same protective quality Evelyn had observed. "Incredible," Flitwick whispered, barely able to contain his excitement. "It is indeed a proper addition to the magical canon. A defensive charm focused on physical protection… far more specialized than Protego, and yet the intent is evident. I can feel the structure you've woven into it, the careful precision, and the unique intent behind its creation." Evelyn listened, letting him explore the spell's effect, noting that he understood it purely from observation and magical intuition, without any knowledge of her inner system.
Finally, Flitwick pulled back, smiling broadly. "Miss Carmichael, this is extraordinary. You must document everything—the wand movements, the incantation, the intent, the observed effects, and any notes on its creation. This is not merely for Hogwarts; it will need to be sent to the Charms Guild for formal recognition. Once it is published, your name will be attached to the spell, and you will receive any applicable recognition or royalties. A new spell in the magical world is a rare achievement, especially for a first-year. Truly exceptional." Evelyn nodded, her pulse still quick, realizing the magnitude of the moment. The spell she had created last night—born of a combination of protectiveness, the Sowilo rune, and her first Latin shard—was now part of the magical canon, recognized, documented, and validated by a master of Charms.
Flitwick settled back into his chair, the excitement of the demonstration still lingering in the room, but now replaced with a professional focus as he began to explain the next steps. "Miss Carmichael," he said, his voice steady but warm, "creating a spell is only the beginning. To ensure it becomes recognized and accessible to other witches and wizards, it must be properly documented and submitted to the Charms Guild. This is the standard procedure for any new magical discovery. Your work, once published, will become part of the recorded body of magical knowledge, and your authorship will be formally acknowledged." Evelyn listened carefully, nodding, though internally she knew she could not reveal the workings of her system. Every explanation had to remain grounded in observable effects, wand movement, incantation, and intent.
Flitwick leaned forward, placing a stack of parchment on the desk between them. "You will need to include a detailed report of the spell's mechanics," he explained. "Describe the wand motions precisely—every arc, twist, and flick. Outline the incantation clearly, with the correct pronunciation. Note the intent that drives the spell, in your case, protectiveness. Include the observed results and any limitations you've noticed. Even if you cannot fully articulate the deeper magical principles behind it, it is the observable, reproducible effect that the Guild requires. Accuracy and clarity are key." Evelyn took in his words, her mind already organizing how she would write down the motions and incantation, the way the shield formed and responded to contact, and the protective intent she had channeled into it.
Flitwick continued, his hands gesturing animatedly as he elaborated on the process. "Once your report is completed, it will be submitted for review. The Guild examines the structural integrity of the spell, its potential applications, and any risks or limitations. They may provide feedback or require additional notes, but once accepted, the spell is formally published. At that point, you will be credited as the creator, and any use in research, textbooks, or official teaching materials will attribute the spell to you. Any royalties or recognition tied to your discovery will be granted, which, especially as a Muggle-born, ensures your contribution is fully acknowledged within the magical community." Evelyn absorbed every detail, mentally noting how significant this was—not just for her spellwork, but also for her place in the magical world.
Hermione, who had remained closely by her side throughout the demonstration, whispered in awe, "You're going to have your first officially recognized spell… and it's yours. Entirely yours." Evelyn allowed herself a small smile, but she did not let it distract her from the instructions. She asked clarifying questions about the submission process—how to structure the report, what measurements or observations should be emphasized, and how to phrase her description of the protective intent. Flitwick patiently answered each question, emphasizing that precision and clarity were more important than length or literary flourish. The Guild valued reproducibility and proper articulation above all.
Finally, Flitwick paused, resting his hands on the desk. "Remember, Miss Carmichael," he said softly, but with a firm authority, "a spell becomes part of the world the moment it is published. Its mechanics, its intent, and its effects are then accessible to other practitioners. You will have control over how it is used in documentation, and your authorship ensures your contributions are never overlooked. It is a rare achievement, particularly for a first-year, but also a responsibility. Treat it with care." Evelyn nodded, a mixture of pride, awe, and a sudden weight of responsibility settling over her. She realized that her first spell—Shieldum—was no longer just a personal experiment. It was now a tangible addition to the magical world, a bridge between her practice and the broader community, and the beginning of a journey that would intertwine her curiosity, her skill, and her sense of protectiveness into something lasting.
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Ravenclaw Tower, spilling light across the long tables where students were beginning to gather for breakfast. The hall smelled of warm bread, butter, and the faint trace of pumpkin juice, mingling with the excitement and chatter that had already begun to build around the upcoming Halloween feast. Most students were absorbed in conversations about costumes, ghost stories, and the lingering thrill of last night's events. Evelyn, however, sat calmly near the window, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup as she watched the morning unfold. The memory of casting Shieldum the previous night was still vivid in her mind—the way the protective barrier had formed, the rush of energy when it responded to her intent, and the small sense of satisfaction that came from creating something real, something tangible in the magical world.
Hermione arrived almost immediately, practically bouncing with energy as she wove her way through the Ravenclaw tables. She lowered her voice when she reached Evelyn. "Evelyn! I have to know exactly how Shieldum works. How did you cast it? What's the movement? The incantation? Tell me everything you can," she whispered with barely contained excitement. Evelyn nodded, taking a measured breath. She could not reveal the inner workings of her system, but she could describe what was observable—the wand motion, the incantation, the subtle aura that formed around the shield. "It's a protective barrier," she explained slowly, demonstrating the careful, fluid motion of her wand. "It grows stronger when I focus on protecting someone. If I'm distracted or just practicing, it's weaker. That's why it was effective last night with the troll—it responded directly to my intent to protect."
Hermione's eyes widened, and her quill moved rapidly across her notebook, recording every nuance. Evelyn felt a faint thrill at seeing someone so engaged with her creation, someone who understood that it was more than just a simple first-year spell. Behind them, Harry and Ron followed quietly, curious about the sudden commotion, though unsure exactly what to make of it. Evelyn glanced up and gave a small nod of acknowledgment. She then carefully demonstrated the full wand movement again, explaining how the shield formed and expanded in response to her will. "It's not magical defense like Protego," she continued, "but it reacts to physical threats. That's why it functioned against the troll. It's built to anticipate the movement and intent of whatever I am protecting, but only if I'm truly focused on someone else."
Hermione's excitement only increased. "This is incredible! We need to get this documented properly. Professor Flitwick will want to see it, and the Charms Guild must have a formal record. You can't just let this stay experimental—it's revolutionary." Evelyn nodded again, understanding that while she could not show the inner mechanisms of her system, she could present the observable results in a scientific, detailed way. Harry and Ron exchanged uncertain glances, trailing behind as the two girls stepped out of the breakfast hall, Hermione pulling Evelyn slightly ahead as she peppered her with more questions. Evelyn led them through the quiet corridors of Ravenclaw Tower, finally finding a secluded alcove where she could demonstrate the spell without distraction, the sunlight glinting off her wand as the faint shimmer of Shieldum pulsed into view.
For a brief moment, Evelyn allowed herself to take in the magnitude of what she had accomplished. The spell was no longer a private experiment; it had become something recognized and tangible, acknowledged by Flitwick and on the path to official documentation. Every subtle movement, every thought of protectiveness, had contributed to its creation. It was hers, and yet it was now a part of the magical world, ready to influence those who would encounter it next. She could feel the weight of that responsibility, but also the quiet satisfaction of having created something that had real impact.
Once the demonstration was complete, Evelyn led Hermione, Harry, and Ron to a quiet corner near the Ravenclaw common room entrance, away from the morning bustle of students. She set down her notebook and took a moment to breathe, feeling the faint hum of Shieldum still lingering around her wand. Even though the shield had been demonstrated successfully, the power of creating something entirely new—something that reacted so directly to intent—left a residual thrill in her chest. She carefully explained the subtleties again, showing Hermione the exact flick of the wrist, the precise arc of the wand, and the cadence of the incantation. "It responds," she said, "to what you feel, not just what you think. Protectiveness has to be genuine. That's why it worked with Hermione and me last night. I had no time to think—I just acted to protect, and it responded."
Hermione scribbled furiously in her notebook, her excitement barely contained. "You'll have to write a formal report for Professor Flitwick. The Guild will need full documentation," she said, looking up at Evelyn with sparkling eyes. "You need to explain the incantation, the wand movement, the observable effects, and how your intent influences the outcome. Don't worry—you don't need to include the inner workings of your… methods." Evelyn nodded thoughtfully, recognizing that this was exactly what she could do: show what happened and how to replicate it without revealing her system. Harry and Ron lingered nearby, glancing at the shimmer of energy still radiating faintly from her wand, both clearly impressed but unsure what else to add. Evelyn felt a quiet pride at their attention, though she did not dwell on it. She knew the real work was just beginning.
Sitting down in one of the soft window seats of the Ravenclaw common room, Evelyn reflected on the spell and the events of the last twenty-four hours. The room was quiet, the morning light painting soft patterns on the floor and walls, and she could hear the faint murmur of students below, beginning to prepare for classes and the Halloween feast. She traced her wand lightly across the air, watching the shimmer of Shieldum as it responded to her gentle focus. It was no longer just a practical tool for self-defense; it was a creation, a tangible result of her skill, observation, and the careful combination of Latin and Nordic fragments. Every shimmer and pulse reminded her that magic was more than memorized words or movements—it was intention, structure, and connection.
Professor Flitwick's words from yesterday echoed in her mind: once documented, Shieldum would be formally recognized, and the Charms Guild would process it as an official contribution to magical knowledge. As a Muggle-born, this was particularly significant; the recognition was factual, objective, and tied directly to her magical contribution. It was confirmation that her work mattered, that her creations had value beyond the classroom and beyond her personal experiments. Evelyn did not feel a need to react emotionally to the label of Muggle-born—it was simply a fact she could now integrate into her understanding of the magical world, and perhaps even use to navigate her future studies and experiments.
Finally, Evelyn allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction. Shieldum had worked; it had been acknowledged by Professor Flitwick; and she had successfully conveyed its effects to Hermione and the boys without exposing the inner workings of her system. For the first time, she felt the tangible weight of being not just a student, but a creator—someone capable of shaping the world of magic around her. The spell, the Nordic ruin, the shards, and the protective intent were all threads in a tapestry she was only beginning to understand, but it was hers, and it had already made a difference. As the chatter of students below grew louder, Evelyn leaned back against the soft cushion, letting the sunlight warm her face, and allowed herself the quiet certainty that she was on a path where her creations could matter, that her protective magic could have real consequences, and that every shard, every intent, every motion of her wand was part of the beginning of something far greater than herself.
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