THE SILVER STAR
CHAPTER 25: THE SILVER STAR
In case anyone’s curious, no, I don’t spend every waking moment outside of class holed up in the Room of Requirement. That’s where the Time-Turner comes in handy—I literally can’t be in the same place at the same time as myself. Besides, I need that extra time to catch up on a few “normal” things an eleven-year-old might do at a boarding school, like hanging out with friends and enjoying an occasional snack in the common room.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, I’m not exactly the most approachable person around here. My height doesn’t help; most boys my age take one look at me and back off, and the girls? They practically scatter like I’m a Bludger headed their way. But surprisingly, I’ve found a friend in James, a fellow Ravenclaw, who’s been my study partner and lunchtime companion. We’ve bonded through our shared first-year struggles—like Potions with Snape, who would sooner turn a student into a toad than offer a word of encouragement.
James, despite being somewhat hopeless in Herbology, is brilliant in Charms and not too shabby at Transfiguration either. "Turns out you've got a bit of a knack for Charms," I joked during one of our study sessions, watching him levitate his quill with impressive control.
"Professor Flitwick’s already invited me to join the Charms Club," he replied, eyes gleaming with excitement. "He mentioned it to you too, didn’t he?"
"Yeah," I nodded, "but I turned him down. I need to prioritize my own studies first. Too much on my plate." Still, seeing James that thrilled was infectious, and soon enough, we were both sharing bits and pieces of our lives, trading stories like we’d known each other far longer than just a few weeks.
James lit up talking about life before Hogwarts—he told me about his time in Muggle schools, the shows he loved, comics he read, and all the small, ordinary details of Muggle life. He made it sound like another world, one I’d never known but could picture through his stories. I, in turn, told him about Aunt Amelia, Susan, and Tilly, our house-elf. I mentioned how I’d started my own magical garden in the backyard and even experimented with a few beginner-level potions.
James seemed especially curious about Tilly, though. “Wait, so she lives with you and just…does everything you ask?”
“Kind of, but not exactly. Tilly’s been with the Bones family for generations, but we treat her like family, as much as she denies it. It’s not like she’s forced to work for us—house-elves need the magic from a home or a wizarding family to survive, so she’s bonded to us. Without that bond, she’d grow weaker over time and eventually…well, it wouldn’t end well.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Wow, that’s…strange. I mean, I always thought it was kind of, you know, slavery or something.”
I shrugged, trying to put it in simpler terms. “It’s just part of how they’re, I guess, evolved. They can’t really do much on their own without that magical connection. Believe it or not, Hogwarts has the largest number of house-elves in the UK because it’s the biggest magical residence. The school provides enough magic to sustain them, so they do all the cleaning, cooking, and behind-the-scenes work.”
James’s eyes widened with intrigue, and I could practically see his curiosity bubbling over. “Alright, I’ve gotta see this. Where’s the kitchen? Think we could pop down for a quick visit?”
Smiling at his enthusiasm, I motioned for him to follow. “It’s not far. Come on—I’ll show you.”
Once we slipped into the basement corridor, I led him to the entrance. I reached out and tickled the pear on the painting. It transformed into a handle, and I pushed it open, gesturing for James to go first.
As we stepped into the kitchen, the air was filled with the aroma of fresh bread, roasted meats, and a dozen other delicious scents. The house-elves spotted us immediately, and suddenly, we were surrounded by dozens of little figures, offering trays of treats, bowls of soup, even a plate of steaming shepherd’s pie. I watched as a pair of wide-eyed elves handed James a pastry piled high with cream and strawberries.
“H-here, sir, fresh from the ovens just for you!” one squeaked, beaming.
James stammered, glancing back at me as he held the dessert. “Uh, thanks! But—there’s really no need to—oh! Alright, thanks—yes, I’ve got it—thanks again—”
The elves couldn’t help but fawn over us, and I could tell James was both amused and overwhelmed. “Blimey, they’re enthusiastic!” he whispered, accepting a cup of hot chocolate from yet another elf.
“They don’t get many visitors here,” I said with a small laugh. “They’re thrilled whenever someone shows up.”
James looked down at the food in his hands, shaking his head in amazement. “You’d think they hadn’t seen a wizard in ages. And they…they just live here? Cooking and cleaning and everything?”
I nodded, accepting a tray with a selection of pastries, and took a bite of one, the buttery crust melting on my tongue. “They love what they do—it’s more than just a job for them. House-elves see it as their way of keeping Hogwarts running, keeping the magic alive, you know?”
James took a hesitant bite of his pastry and let out a surprised hum of delight. “This is amazing. Can’t believe we haven’t been down here sooner.” He looked around, giving the elves a grateful nod, though he seemed a bit uncomfortable with the intensity of their hospitality.
Just then, a small group of elves approached with yet another tray piled high with fruit, bread, and more pastries, beaming up at us. “Oh, thank you, thank you, but we’re, uh, stuffed!” he said, his hands held up as a polite refusal.
But the elves looked so crushed that I leaned over, chuckling, “We’d better just grab what we can and head out before they keep piling more on us.”
“Yeah,” James muttered, clearly overwhelmed by the level of enthusiasm. We exchanged a look, then bolted for the door, our arms loaded with treats.
As we walked back toward the Ravenclaw common room, laughing and munching on pastries, James turned to me with a look of wonder. “You know, I never thought I’d actually enjoy having a friend who’s so…different.”
I arched an eyebrow, smirking. “Different, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” he replied, grinning. “You’re teaching me loads about this place. I’d still be lost without you.”
I felt a warmth in my chest that I hadn’t expected. “Well, just wait—there’s still loads more to discover. You stick with me, and I’ll show you the ropes.”
Making friends in Hufflepuff House had been an unexpected perk of my time at Hogwarts, especially with Tonks. She was feisty, a bit of a mischief-maker, and always full of surprises—especially the day she almost jinxed me for teasing her with her full name.
“I swear, one more time, and you’ll be hexed six ways to Sunday,” she’d said, her wand aimed at my nose, but with a glint in her eye. “It’s Tonks. Just Tonks.”
But she’d been taken aback when I actually managed to hold my own in her conversation about class troubles. She’d been stressing about some tricky spells, and when I offered advice on improving her wand movements and tweaking her technique, her mouth literally dropped open. Her hair even shifted back to its natural dark color in pure shock.
“Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies,” I’d teased, stifling a laugh.
“That…that was actually good advice!” she stammered, her usually expressive hair a still, dark brown for once.
“Believe it or not,” I said, grinning, “Ravenclaws are useful for more than just homework answers.”
Our friendship only grew from there. I helped her practice her spells and potions, and in return, she’d share some of her more creative prank recipes. It was amusing watching her brew up mischief for bullies who pestered younger students; one potion had made a Slytherin’s hair sprout feathers, and his squawking had echoed through the corridors for days. She started calling me the “Raven-est Ravenclaw” she’d ever met, which was apparently the highest praise coming from her. All in all, my unlikely friendship with Tonks kept things lively, and I found myself looking forward to our conversations.
Then there was Christian Ward, another first-year Ravenclaw who was into Herbology and Flying. He was a little on the shorter side and had this wild, adventurous spark in his blue eyes. He often vanished outdoors, preferring the fresh air to the common room, and we only crossed paths occasionally at first. But one blustery afternoon near the start of winter, I decided to join him by the lake, curious about his fascination with the great outdoors.
I found him staring out at the Black Lake, looking so intently at the water it was as if he was waiting for something to rise up out of it. I approached quietly, not wanting to break his concentration, but he noticed me anyway.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Without taking his eyes off the water, he shrugged. “Trying to spot creatures in the lake.”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You’re curious about the squid, aren’t you?”
He shook his head, finally looking up with a slight grin. “A bit. But I heard there were merpeople here. I wanted to see if I could, I dunno…meet them.”
“Merpeople?” I asked, a bit impressed. “You know, I’ve read they like music. If you want to draw them out, maybe try playing some?”
Christian’s head whipped toward me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Wait. You actually know about them?” He sounded almost disbelieving.
I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Well, I did a bit of research. Merpeople are supposed to be pretty reclusive, but they might show up if they’re curious enough.”
“Do you think it would work?” he asked, his excitement barely contained. “I’ve been trying to talk to them for weeks!”
I smirked. “There’s only one way to find out. What’s the worst that could happen?”
The idea of playing music by the lake to lure in merpeople wasn’t exactly in any Hogwarts guidebook. Then again, neither was sneaking around for late-night snacks with Tonks or bonding over a fascination with magical creatures. As Christian and I chatted by the water’s edge, tossing out wild ideas of what to try next, it struck me that Hogwarts was becoming more than just a school. It was starting to feel like a place where I could finally find my own circle of friends—a place to belong.
Christian skipped a stone across the lake, watching as it created ripples on the still surface before he turned to me, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "So, any bright ideas on how we can actually call a merperson to the surface?"
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I scratched my head, half-joking. "Two problems with that. First off, the language. Unless you somehow know Mermish, we're not getting very far there. And then there's the fact that merpeople don’t usually come up when people are around—especially wizards. Like most intelligent magical beings, they aren't exactly fond of us."
Christian tilted his head, considering my words. "Huh. Didn’t think about the language thing. Also didn’t peg you for someone interested in magical creatures and… you know, crazy ideas like this. Especially the famous 'Silver Star' of our house," he said with a playful chuckle.
"The what?" I asked, feeling a flicker of confusion. I must’ve looked pretty baffled, judging by Christian’s reaction.
He grinned, clearly enjoying my cluelessness. "What, you didn't know? It's what people call you in our house—well, mostly the girls. And word has it the nickname’s starting to spread."
I blinked, staring at him. "How in Merlin’s name did that happen?!"
Christian burst out laughing, and it took him a minute or two to recover. Finally, he managed to explain. "Well, you’re kind of the best in our year, aren't you? Not that it’s really a contest at this point."
I nodded slowly. It was true, I had a knack for my studies, and I did enjoy lending a hand to those who needed it. Christian continued, "You’re always finishing assignments way ahead of everyone else, and then you go around helping people. And, not to ignore the obvious, you’ve got the looks, mate. Hence, 'the Silver Star.' You know, like you’re this unreachable, shining thing."
I rolled my eyes, feeling heat creeping up my neck. "And here I thought my life was simple." I huffed, incredulous. "But how come I’ve never heard about this… ridiculous title?”
Christian snickered. "Well, no offense, but you don’t really spend a ton of time with people. Not outside classes, anyway. Actually, I’m pretty surprised you’re here talking to me right now.”
He had a point, and I felt a little pang of guilt, realizing he was right. I sighed. "Alright, I can’t argue with that. But there’s a reason I wanted to talk to you.”
Christian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh yeah? What’s the reason?"
"I saw how you were during Herbology and Flying classes," I said, leaning back and looking at the clouds drifting over the lake. "You seemed to actually enjoy them—like, genuinely enjoy them. And it got me thinking you’d be a good friend."
He blinked, momentarily stunned, and his expression softened as he took that in. “Wow,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me since we got here. Guess I’ve just never been the ‘good friend’ type before.”
"Maybe it’s about time then," I said, smiling. "And besides, everyone needs friends in a place like this.”
“Alright,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “If the Silver Star wants to be friends, who am I to turn down the offer?” He reached out to shake my hand, his grip firm and sincere. "So, what’s our next big idea?"
I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than I had in a while. "Well, luring in a merperson is still high on my list. Maybe we can try using enchanted stones to play some music underwater. Who knows? They might be curious enough to come check it out."
Christian’s eyes lit up. "Let’s do it. And if that doesn’t work, maybe we’ll just keep tossing out ideas until something sticks. Just don’t let the ‘Silver Star’ get us in trouble.”
“Not unless you get us into more trouble first,” I shot back, laughing. Sitting by the lake, dreaming up wild schemes under the warm afternoon sun, it felt like Hogwarts was bound to hold a few more adventures for us—and right now, we had all the time in the world.
Christian glanced at me, his expression somewhere between curiosity and disbelief. "You want to be friends with me?” he asked, sounding a bit incredulous.
“Well, yeah, obviously.” I gave him a bemused look. “Why else would I have come over to talk to you in the first place?”
Christian looked down, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncertain. “I dunno. It’s just… everyone in the house looks down on me, you know? They think I’m a bit odd for not being ‘Ravenclaw enough’ and for spending all my free time out here in the fields with plants and animals.”
“That’s exactly why I want to be friends with you,” I said, my voice firm. “You’re different from most people around here. Ravenclaw’s turned into a house of bookworms more interested in memorizing facts than in exploring the unknown, where researchers are supposed to be born. They’re more interested in worshipping what’s already written than in trying to look beyond it, and that’s why most of them don’t really go anywhere with their talents beyond academic success. But you? You’re already doing something different, forging your own path.”
Christian looked back at me, the surprise softening into a smile. “So you’re saying you’d pick me, Christian Ward, over any of those boring, book-loving stick-in-the-muds?”
“Any day.” I grinned, folding my arms. “In fact, I’d do it twice if I had to.”
He chuckled, his grin widening. “So, you think I’m weird, too?”
“Honestly? I think there’s nothing weird about immersing yourself in something you’re passionate about. If our house thinks that’s strange, then they’ve missed the point of what Rowena Ravenclaw envisioned entirely.” I extended my hand toward him. “So, will you be my friend?”
Christian’s grin grew as he shook my hand. “Nice to meet you properly, Ares Bones. And here’s hoping you don’t end up regretting this.”
“Oh, I’m willing to take my chances,” I replied, laughing.
We spent the next hour or so talking about everything from our favorite classes to Hogwarts gossip, and I discovered just how deep Christian’s love for nature really went. Not only was he a natural in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, but he was passionate about anything that involved the natural world. Even Astronomy, which made sense in a way. I could see how mapping the stars might appeal to him, linking him to something vast and mysterious.
When I brought up how Muggles viewed Astronomy, his eyes went wide. “Wait… Muggles actually study the stars like we do?”
“Yeah, and a lot more than you’d think,” I said, nodding. “They’ve got all kinds of tools, telescopes that can see galaxies light-years away. I’ll lend you a book on it sometime if you want.”
He looked at me as if I’d handed him the key to some great secret. “I’d… actually love that.”
From that day on, Christian and I became inseparable. Between my studies and wild ideas, and his down-to-earth understanding of nature, we made an odd but perfect pair. And with James joining us for most of our daily adventures, we felt like a real trio of friends.
Tonks, who was a fourth-year, joined us whenever she could, but her own schedule kept her busy. Yet, knowing she was out there—even if we didn’t see each other as often—was reassuring. It felt like I had found my own little family within these castle walls, each of us bringing something unique to the group.
Hogwarts was proving to be more than just a school. It was becoming a place to belong.
And so, that’s how the first few months at the castle passed: studying, training, and experimenting, with Christian, James, and I bouncing ideas, stories, and wild plans off each other like we’d known one another for years. We settled into a steady rhythm—James adapting to magic with our help, Christian sharing his knowledge of plants and animals, and me showing them the latest spells I’d been learning, or occasionally, the best-hidden sections of the library.
James, who was a natural explorer, led us to secret nooks and crannies around the grounds that he’d discovered while sneaking out after hours. One of his favorite spots was an old greenhouse, where we would gather to experiment with plants and spells that no one else seemed to care about. There, Christian would point out magical flora, and I’d try casting little charms on them to see how they’d react. Some of my charms would make a plant shimmer and glow, while others would make it coil in on itself, which made James laugh every time.
“Guess they don’t appreciate the help, Ares,” he’d chuckle, watching the leaves curl away from my wand with an amused look.
But between the fun, I found myself helping them with bits of knowledge in their own areas of interest too. Christian’s curiosity about magical creatures extended to even obscure topics like how Hippogriffs' dietary habits affected their magical properties, which I’d read about in one of my Arithmancy essays. I showed him how certain runes could be combined with charms to calm creatures, a trick he promised to try on his family’s stubborn old barn owl over the holidays.
James, though he was always quick to pick up charms, struggled with the more complex spells. “I don’t see why I have to get every movement so precise,” he’d groan as I corrected his wrist flicks.
“Because that’s how magic works, James,” I’d reply, laughing at his impatience. “It’s like, you have to practice until it becomes natural.”
“Magic should be natural,” he’d counter with a grin. “Like, I don’t know, poetry.”
And so we practiced spells, talked about magical creatures, and traded bits of knowledge from books, the forest, and the grounds until, one morning, snow began to fall around the castle, blanketing the world outside. The frost-covered windows, the shimmering grounds—all of it announced the arrival of winter holidays.
It felt like time had flown by, but at the same time, it felt like Hogwarts had already become home.