The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor made me wish for Snape’s cutting remarks. Professor Trocar Sanguini, a vampire, was brought in by Dumbledore himself, under the notion that no one was more qualified to teach students about handling dark creatures than one who was a dark creature himself. Yet this was precisely the issue: if we ever crossed eyes, he would likely know what I truly was.

  Vampires were among my least favorite entities. They existed in an uncanny imitation of life, a misguided sorcerer’s attempt to defy death and attain immortality. The originator of vampirism believed that by existing in a state neither fully alive nor fully dead, he could evade me. But true vampires do eventually succumb, if not by a blade, then by the inevitable degradation of their magical reserves over centuries.

  Still, Trocar was a cut above the typical vampire. Most couldn’t even cast a simple spell without weakening their reserves. Yet here he was, wielding magic as skillfully as any witch or wizard. I quickly checked my senses, half-suspecting he might not be a true vampire at all. But my powers confirmed it: he was very much a vampire and, more troubling, was every bit as aware and self-possessed as he seemed.

  With Trocar around, I’d have to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Unfortunately, I had other concerns as well. I’d recently taken on Draco’s training in archery as a way to hone his accuracy, a skill he’d shown potential for during sparring sessions.

  “Draco,” I asked as we reviewed his progress, “how’s archery coming along?”

  Draco shrugged, giving the faintest hint of a smirk. “It’s all right, I suppose. Hitting targets is satisfying, but I’d rather practice with a wand.”

  “The weapon isn’t the point,” I replied. “It’s about training your hand and eye, not the type of projectile. Think of arrows as a way to measure your consistency.”

  Hermione, who’d overheard our exchange, raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with mock impatience. “What about my ‘training,’ Ben? Any other ‘lame’ exercises planned for me?”

  I smirked. “Honestly, Hermione, your spellcasting is already strong. The only way you could enhance your abilities further would be through…” I hesitated.

  “Through what?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

  “Nothing,” I said, hoping to leave it there. But her sharp eyes told me she wasn’t about to let it drop.

  “Come on, just tell me,” she insisted.

  “Sorcery,” I muttered, hardly loud enough for her to hear.

  “Sorcery?” she repeated. “As in… the Sorcerer’s Stone?”

  “Precisely. The stone’s original name was the Philosopher’s Stone. Abraham the Mage invented it, but its reputation grew so much that sorcery became a term for magic that channels and amplifies power.”

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  Hermione’s eyes sparkled with interest. “What’s the difference between regular spellcasting and sorcery?”

  “Not much if you’re using a wand,” I explained. “But a sorcerer’s body is naturally more magically conductive. It’s what makes someone’s spells inherently more powerful, even without a wand. Take Voldemort, for instance.”

  “He’s a sorcerer?” Her voice lowered as if even speaking the word carried weight.

  I nodded. “He was born with a rare ability for magic conduction. His body and soul are extremely receptive to magic, though that’s due in part to… alterations he made himself. His soul is scarred and split by magic, which makes it even more conductive—but at a heavy cost.”

  “Then…” She paused, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “How would someone become a sorcerer without damaging their soul?”

  “Well, there is one method,” I admitted reluctantly. “The bones conduct magic. They’re what make simple wands, and they can be refined to increase magical conductivity. But it’s excruciating, and there’s no guarantee of survival.”

  Hermione’s eyes lit up. “I’ll do it.”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  “Did you not hear me? It’s risky, Hermione. People have died trying to enhance their bones for sorcery,” I argued, frustration rising.

  But she met my gaze, resolute. “I trust you. You wouldn’t let me die.”

  I groaned, rubbing my temples. “You’re a stubborn one, you know that?”

  She smiled, crossing her arms with a triumphant look. “A witch has to do what a witch has to do.”

  I sighed. “Fine. But you’re not going to like it once we start.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, holding her chin high.

  “Good. Because if you’re so eager to help, I could use a hand with a project,” I added. “I need to make a wand for Neville, and I’ll need a reliable assistant.”

  “Why me?” she asked, her expression softening.

  “Because I trust you,” I answered simply. “I don’t think anyone else is up for the task.”

  For a second, Hermione blinked, looking taken aback. “Careful, Ben. You’ll make a girl blush with words like those.” She gave a wink that I suspected was more out of habit than intent.

  “…” I stared, unsure of how to respond.

  She rolled her eyes, laughing. “I was joking! You’re hopeless sometimes.”

  “Right,” I replied flatly, hoping she’d let the subject drop.

  She gave me a playful whack on the shoulder with her rolled-up parchment. “Come on, let’s head to Diagon Alley. What do we need?”

  I shifted back into focus. “We’ll need materials Snape wouldn’t keep in his inventory—rare ingredients more suited to enchantments than potions. Some components are completely inorganic, things most wizards ignore because they only think of magic as organic.”

  She nodded, intrigued. “I’m all for a supply run with a side of knowledge.”

  “…”

  Smack! Her hand struck my shoulder again. “Stop staring off into space!”

  I rubbed my shoulder, muttering under my breath. “You could try not hitting so hard…”

  “You could try not being so infuriating,” she shot back with a smirk. Her cheeks had a faint flush, though, and she quickly turned, leading the way out.

  As we walked toward the library doors, I couldn’t help but shake my head. For all the mysteries I’d seen in my time, I still hadn’t figured out why humans, especially young ones, acted so unpredictably. Hermione, in particular, seemed to find joy in pushing every one of my boundaries. And now, I’d somehow agreed to turn her into a sorcerer. I only hoped she understood what she was getting into.

  It seemed the recipe for success was turning out to be far more complex than I’d expected, with allies as determined and unpredictable as these. But if Hermione, Ron, Neville, and yes—even Draco—could master their gifts, they might just be ready to face what lay ahead.

  I never understand why females act this way...