Sorcerer in the world of magic

Finally, the long-awaited Christmas holidays arrived, and Hogwarts, usually bustling with life, instantly became deserted. Most students, anticipating the warmth of home and presents, had gone back, leaving the castle to the care of a small handful of remaining students and, of course, the professors. The corridors grew unusually quiet, the Great Hall, once filled with laughter and the clatter of cutlery, now seemed vast and empty. Even the ghosts, it seemed, had taken a vacation, only occasionally drifting by like lost souls, searching for someone to scare but finding no one. The school had become quite boring, transforming from a noisy beehive into a hushed monastery.

The students who remained at Hogwarts entertained themselves as best they could, but it must be admitted, despite all its wonders, there weren't many amusements for bored teenagers in the magical world. Among them, Wizard Chess stood out.

However, in the Ravenclaw common room, where the brightest and most inventive students gathered, they found a much more sophisticated way to amuse themselves: a quiz. And not just any quiz, but a challenging one, covering all subjects, with questions that even professors might ponder. When Stephen joined them on the first day of the holidays, he initially just observed, then he was persuaded to play. From the moment he engaged, everything changed. He answered questions faster than anyone else, his replies precise and concise, as if he were reading them from a textbook no one else had seen. There were only isolated instances when he didn't know the answers, but even then, his reasoning was logical and close to the truth.

"Stephen, that's not fair!" exclaimed one of the students, Lisa Turpin, leaning back on the sofa after another defeat. "You know absolutely everything! You must be reading the question setters' minds!"

"Or you just reread the entire library in the first two months," added Terry Boot, another Ravenclaw.

Stephen simply smiled slightly. "I just remember information well," he replied modestly, though in reality, he possessed a photographic memory.

Soon, he was unanimously, almost forcibly, appointed the host. Now Stephen stood before the board, where questions magically appeared, reciting them with an unperturbed expression that sometimes bordered on mild boredom.

"Alright, next question for the 'Blue Ink' team," Stephen announced, his voice dry but clear. "In what year was the Decree on the Introduction of Pets to Hogwarts issued, and what types of animals were forbidden?"

The 'Blue Ink' team whispered amongst themselves.

"Was it... uh... the seventeenth century?" one of the participants ventured uncertainly.

"Incorrect. Terry?" Stephen turned to Terry Boot, who represented the 'Flying Scrolls' team.

"1637, and only werewolves and giant spiders were forbidden," Terry answered confidently, pleased with himself.

"Correct," Stephen nodded, marking the points. "Next question for the 'Green Slimes': What is the main difference between the 'Petrificus Totalus' and 'Rictusempra' spells? What is their fundamental difference, beyond the obvious effect?"

"Petrificus is full petrification, and Rictusempra is a tickling charm!" exclaimed Padma Patil, one of the twins, from whom such straightforwardness might be expected.

Stephen sighed heavily. "Correct on the effect, Miss Patil, but incorrect on the essence. I asked about the fundamental difference. Anyone else?"

Silence fell. Stephen raised an eyebrow. "No one? Alright. Petrificus Totalus is an immobilizing spell, completely paralyzing the muscles. Rictusempra is a provocation spell, causing uncontrollable laughter by affecting nerve endings, which does not lead to complete paralysis, but only temporary discomfort. Thus, one is offensive, the other is distracting. Using the first on an innocent person would be considered assault. Using the second would be considered a prank. The difference lies in the level of impact and legal consequences. No points for anyone."

Each day passed in a similar vein. Quizzes were followed by discussions, and discussions by attempts to solve some particularly complex riddle that Stephen sometimes invented himself for amusement. Although he was the host, he still actively participated, correcting answers, elaborating on them, and sometimes even inadvertently providing too much information, which elicited envious groans from his classmates.

The days of the Christmas holidays flowed steadily, filled with this unusual routine for Stephen. He even began to get used to the presence of other students, their innocent jokes, and being constantly asked to explain something "in simple terms."

And then, one Christmas morning, Hogwarts suddenly transformed. The first snow fell outside the window. It descended in large, fluffy flakes, instantly covering the dark battlements of the towers and the green fields with a thick, sparkling white blanket. The entire castle, so empty until then, seemed to come alive. As if by magic, every student who had remained for the holidays felt an irresistible urge to go outside.

Stephen, who woke up, as usual, closer to noon, to the sound of cheerful chatter coming from downstairs, also decided to take a stroll. He wasn't a fan of snow, but curiosity got the better of him. Pulling on a warm robe and gloves, he stepped out of the castle.

What he saw was not just a walk; it was utter chaos, a carnival of madness and genuine childish joy. The Hogwarts courtyard had transformed into a battleground. Someone was throwing snowballs, laughter and shouts echoing across the space. Someone was making a "snow angel," lying flat on their back in the fresh snow. Several groups of students were already building snowmen, giving them the most whimsical shapes: from classic three-ball figures to huge snow trolls and even miniature copies of professors. Everyone was busy with something, absorbed in carefree fun.

Stephen took a few steps when a barrage of snowballs suddenly struck him. Dozens of cold, soft projectiles landed on his robe and hit his face.

A group of boys, standing a little distance away, throwing snowballs at each other, noticed Stephen and decided it was a perfect opportunity to get revenge on him for his arrogant remarks during the quiz, for always being right, and for being so... Stephen.

"Go on, hit him!" yelled one of them, apparently some seventh-year Hufflepuff who was always in the shadows of others. "Show him what fun means!"

"Let's get even for the brainiac!" added another, and several more students joined them, mostly those who didn't excel in class and whom Stephen inadvertently embarrassed with his answers. They didn't realize what a huge mistake they were making.

Stephen, seeing this hail of snowballs, was not at all frightened. On the contrary, a small, almost menacing smile appeared on his lips, which usually boded ill for his opponents. Without taking his hands out of his pockets, he first cast a light protective spell that simply made the snowballs bounce off him without leaving a trace. Then, concentrating, he made a slight movement of his hand.

In that very second, all the snowballs that had flown past him, those that had been thrown but hadn't yet fallen to the ground, and even those that were already lying at his attackers' feet, rose into the air. They began to swirl around him, like a tiny snowstorm, gathering into a dense, threatening mass.

"Well then," Stephen said quietly, his voice barely audible amidst the battle's din, but with a steely edge to it. "Let's play."

And then, with all the power he could muster, Stephen rained them down on his attackers in a bombardment. It wasn't just a hail of snowballs; it was a true snowstorm, controlled by one person. The snowballs flew with speed and force, like projectiles, striking the unfortunate students relentlessly, burying them from head to toe. The boys tried to hide, to run, but the snowy projectiles pursued them relentlessly. They fell to the ground, trying to swat them away, but the onslaught didn't stop.

The bombardment continued until all the instigators of the snow battle were literally buried under the snow, transformed into shapeless, trembling drifts. Hoarse moans and pleas emanated from beneath the snowy mounds.

"We give up! Stop! Please, just stop!" they cried, gasping and trying to shake off the cold mass.

Only then did Stephen stop. The same small, slightly sinister smile still played on his face. He looked down at his snow-covered opponents, who now resembled comical snowmen.

"So," he said, his voice calm but with a hint of superiority. "Who else wants to play?"

No one answered. Only soft moans and the trembling of the snowy humps.

Stephen nodded with satisfaction. The lesson had been learned. With the same smile, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he turned away from his defeated "enemies" and walked towards a group of students who, frozen in astonishment, had been watching the entire spectacle. They were building a snowman that, by this point, had taken on the features of a rather plump Professor Snape, complete with a carrot nose and twigs for arms. Approaching closer, Stephen paused for a moment, evaluating their work. Then, to their utter surprise, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The Snape snowman, grunting and puffing, suddenly began to slowly and majestically rotate on its axis, as if showcasing itself in all its glory. A small snowball shot out of its carrot nose, narrowly missing a girl standing nearby.

"Now it's perfect," Stephen said with a hint of sarcasm, his eyes glinting mischievously. "This is my little revenge for him making me work on Saturdays, when all normal people are resting," he added under his breath, just loud enough for the students closest to him to hear. The students, recovering from their shock, began to laugh, realizing that Stephen, too, could have fun, albeit in his own way. Satisfied with the effect he had produced, he simply walked on, leaving behind the rotating snowman and the cheering students, who now looked with admiration at the brilliant Ravenclaw. Perhaps Christmas at Hogwarts wasn't so boring after all.