Time had a funny way of slipping past you at Hogwarts.
One minute, Cael was struggling to conjure the faintest flicker of Lumos — the next, the castle was frosting over, wreaths of holly creeping along banisters, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts drifting through the halls.
Christmas was coming. ❄️
As the days grew colder, students rushed to send owl orders to Diagon Alley for warmer clothes, enchanted scarves, and steaming mugs of butterbeer mix. The Black Lake had started to freeze, a glittering sheet of ice creeping across its surface, and fewer and fewer dared to venture outside — most choosing the warmth of common rooms over the sting of pre-winter winds.
Cael, however, wasn't exactly free to lounge by the fire.
Not with nightly detentions.
The Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, and Cael had practically made the Forbidden Forest their second home these past weeks. Every evening — like clockwork — they'd trudge into the trees, trailing after Hagrid, grumbling as the cold bit through their robes.
Not that they were completely miserable. In between dodging angry creatures and Hagrid's bizarre survival lectures, Cael had his own mission.
His quest.
The Room of Requirement had become an obsession — his personal, secret haven. By now, the seventh-floor corridor practically recognized his footsteps. The enchanted door shimmered into view after his third week pacing that familiar stretch, opposite Barnabas the Barmy's ridiculous painting of a troll trying to teach ballet.
It started small.
"Lumos. Nox. Alohomora."
Beginner spells — the magical equivalent of tying your shoes. Confidence came fast.
Too fast.
Because the next tier? Nightmares wrapped in Latin.
Levitation charms that wobbled like drunk pixies.
Shield spells that fizzled into pathetic little sparks.
Conjuration that demanded precise wand movements — frustratingly easy to botch, and maddening to master.
Cael learned quickly that it wasn't just about the words. It was timing. Posture. Focus. His hand had to move just right — the flick, the angle, the release of magic — all had to flow together, or the spell fell apart.
Which meant endless repetition.
Again. And again. And again.
It was humbling. Maddening. But… addicting in its own, stubborn way.
The system's snarky commentary didn't help.
[ Look at you. Future dueling champion — can't even lift a cushion properly. Your past self would be so proud. ]😜
"Shut it," Cael muttered under his breath, his wand trembling as his levitation charm fizzled for the seventh time.
Over the weeks, the Room of Requirement evolved with him. What started as bare walls turned into a proper training arena — targets floating in complex patterns, stacks of cushions piled high, and even a mirror in the corner to refine his stance and spell angles.
He did get better. Slowly.
Precision took time. Power took stubbornness. And Cael had both — buried under his usual sarcasm and dark circles from sleepless nights.
Outside the Room? Life didn't stop. Neither did the detentions.
Two weeks of late-night trips to the Forbidden Forest — him, Fred and George Weasley, and Lee Jordan — stomping through the undergrowth behind Hagrid like mildly rebellious ducklings.
Cael still wasn't entirely convinced this was a punishment and not some bizarre magical survival course.
"Merlin's smelly socks," Hagrid muttered one evening, leading them deeper into the forest, his crossbow slung across his back. "The centaurs've gone to war with the Acromantula again. Keep yer wands out — winter's rough, them spiders are huntin', tryin' to store food. Centaurs ain't happy."
Fred elbowed Cael with a grin. "You think we'll see any of the dead ones? Heard Acromantula venom's worth twelve Galleons per milliliter."
"I hope so. I'm broke," Cael deadpanned, nudging a low branch aside.
Lee snorted. "You lot think you'll get rich? You can't even sell that stuff legally. Ministry's all over it. Knockturn Alley? Sure — but you'll get cheated blind. Lucky to get one Galleon per milliliter there."
George raised a brow. "How do you know so much about black market spider bits?"
Lee smirked. "Where do you think I got the illegal materials for those Dunk bombs? I've got contacts."
Fred grinned wickedly. "We should blackmail Snape. Tell him we've got venom — make him pay up."
Cael snorted. "First of all, we don't have venom. Second, that's a horrible idea. We'd get caught, and they'd Whoop our ass ."
Despite their grumbling, Cael noticed how the twins and Lee always kept an eye out — making sure no one lagged behind or made enough noise to get them caught by something worse than Hagrid's lectures.
The forest stayed as eerie as ever — shadows where they shouldn't be, howls echoing in the distance — but after weeks of wandering, Cael could nearly navigate it in his sleep.
Nearly.
⸻
Back at the castle, Christmas took over.
Enchanted snow drifted lazily from the Great Hall ceiling. Fairy lights sparkled along garlands wrapped around pillars. The Gryffindor common room practically exploded with red and gold — banners, ribbons, glowing ornaments in every corner.
Cael found peace in the routine:
Classes. Meals. Detention. Training. Repeat.
The Room of Requirement became his second dormitory — a sanctuary of silent practice and stubborn determination. His spells sharpened. His control improved, inch by frustrating inch.
Levitation stopped wobbling.
Shield charms held firm.
Precision strikes landed true against floating targets.
Outside, professors circulated a parchment asking which students planned to stay over the holidays. Predictably, most signed up to go home — eager for roaring fireplaces and family feasts.
Not Cael.
Not Fred or George, either.
Apparently, "Mum'll skin us alive if we go home after that prank," Fred had explained cheerfully.
Cael didn't mind. He planned to use the quiet castle to his advantage — more time to train, as it's holiday , and order from Hogsmeade some Christmas sweets for the kids back at the orphanage. Mama Linda deserved at least that much.
As Christmas Eve crept closer, the castle emptied.
Snow piled high on windowsills. Portraits along the corridors stood vacant, their painted occupants off visiting family frames elsewhere. The Hogwarts Express carried most students away — trunks clattering, owls hooting, the promise of holidays thick in the air.
And for the first time…
Hogwarts — its endless staircases, secret doors, and ridiculous portraits — felt like it abounded Castle .
A castle full of shadows and opportunity.
And Cael Vale planned to use every quiet, snow-dusted moment of it. ✨