“I hope you all are ready to learn something new today.”

Minho dropped his wand into his Standard Book of Spells, closed the book, and looked up to find Flitwick walking through the classroom. He held a tray of tea things above his head as he made his way over to his desk. Before he could reach it, however, Flitwick tripped and dropped the tray of china.

The crashing porcelain startled them all. Minho gasped and leaned forward to see if the professor needed any help.

“Professor?”

“Are you all right?”

“Do you nee -- “

Flitwick smiled as he stood, brushing the spilled tea off his knees. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern.” He reached for his wand in his coat pocket and flourished it over the mess of spilled tea and broken china.

There was a tinkling sound as the porcelain shards slid across the floor, reforming into the teacups and teapot that they were before. Minho’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent O. He blinked when he heard a couple of snickers, and glanced over to find a couple of the Gryffindor boys watching him.

Damian Brent, his deskmate, leaned over to his friend Jared O’Henry. He whispered, loud enough for Minho to hear him, “You’d think he’s never seen magic before.” Jared snorted. Damian turned back to watch Flitwick put the repaired tray of tea things on his messy desk. Minho stared at him, confused.

He had been saying little comments like this all year. What had Minho done to him? He didn’t understand. Frowning, he opened his textbook and tried to find where they had left off in the last lesson.

“Today, you’ve gotten to see a first-hand use of the spell we’re learning today. Reparo, the Mending Charm. It was invented by Orabella Nuttley, an employee of the Ministry, in early 1754. She was in Rome at the time -- “

Minho found the page, and read the inscription under the illustration. She stood before the Coliseum, her wand brandished and the broken shards of limestone pillars hovering mid-air. He hummed as he turned the page and glanced over at Damian to see if he noticed.

It looked like he didn’t. Minho let out a tiny sigh of relief.

Flitwick knocked a teacup off the tray and onto the floor again, the crash drawing Minho’s attention. “Now,” he said, hopping off his desk and holding his wand over the pile of shards. “The actual spell is quite simple. It’s Reparo. Say it with me, class?”

“Reparo,” Minho and everyone around him echoed after the professor.

“Good. The wand motion is simple, too. It’s -- “ he drew a blocky, clockwise spiral in the air. Minho grabbed his wand and copied it with smaller motions. “Now you try.” Damian sighed heavily and recreated it along with Minho. “Again? Good job, everyone.”

Minho folded his hands and rested them on his open textbook, nerves fluttering in his stomach as he leaned forward. What he was nervous about, he wasn’t sure...maybe he was excited? Whatever. Flitwick performed the spell over the teacup and made the repaired cup float up into his hand.

“Does anyone have any questions from your reading last night?”

One of his fellow Hufflepuffs raised her hand. The question escaped Minho’s notice since he was searching for the passage that had confused him. He wished he had Kibum about it last night when they were studying. But, they had both been rather caught up in their essay for Transfiguration, so he forgot.

There it was -- page 129.

While the Mending Charm is able to repair any inanimate object, it cannot mend any physical injury on a living creature. Such a use of magic is proscribed as per order of the Ministry of Magic. Serious scarring could occur if the Mending Charm is used on any person or animal to heal their wounds.

When he read that, he remembered the times years ago where he accidentally healed his brother or cousin’s injuries with a brush of his finger. Had he hurt them? Would they be all right? Was there another spell that could be used instead of the Mending Charm for that?

“Anyone else?” Minho raised his hand tentatively. “Yes, Mr. Choi?”

“Um...” The soles of his shoes squeaked on the floor as he stepped out from behind his desk. He cleared his throat and glanced over at the class, who were all watching him -- was he imagining it or was Damian smirking? Minho toyed with the hem of his sweater as he looked up and to find Flitwick watching him. “Well...”

The scrutiny of the everyone made him feel small, so small.

Minho smoothed his sweater and reached for the textbook, his shaking fingers trying to find the passage again. There were a couple giggles behind him, and Minho’s stomach churned. Flitwick said “Quiet, please,” as sternly as possible for him. Minho squinted at the text as it switched between Hangul and English. He tried to make it out, but the random mix of letters and characters made it impossible. Instead, he set the book down on the desk again.

He wished now that he had never raised his hand.

“Um...this, uh, this -- ” his eyes widened and he felt himself go a little numb. What was the right word? It was right on the tip of his tongue, and he looked back down to his deskmate. He was half-way expecting to see Kibum there, ready to help him but...he wasn’t. It was still Damian. Minho cringed and looked down at his book, and saw the word he was searching for written in full English. “ -- spell -- ” he drew the S out a little too long, and he internally cursed his lisp. “ -- help wound?”

“Oh, no, no. If Reparo is used on a living being then extreme scarring will happen. It’s not a pretty sight to see.” The giggles had morphed into muffled laughter now. Flitwick tapped his wand on the desk, quieting the class. He looked back up at Minho, who was still standing. “Good question, Mr. Choi. Do you have another one?”

“Can...” Minho shifted and folded his hands before him as he trained his eyes on the wood grain of his desk. Why did he stand up? He could have asked Kibum later; he should have waited until then. “Other spell...work?”

“Oh yes! There are many other spells -- and even potions -- that can be used to heal physical wounds! My personal favorite is Episkey, but you all won’t be learning any of the Healing Charms until your third year.”

Minho returned to his seat, and Flitwick directed his attention to the Gryffindor boy who raised his hand. His hands trembled as he rubbed them over his thighs as he let out a shaky breath. Damian scooted over and flipped to page 129 in Minho’s textbook. “You know, it does say that right there in the text. Can’t you read?”

His chest tightened and he nodded stiffly.

“You know,” Damian said, clicking his tongue and leaning away. “You should go back to wherever you belong. You’d probably be a lot better off.”

“K...Korea?”

“Sure, whatever.” Minho turned to Damian, but he had lost interest in Minho again. Instead, he watched as Flitwick returned to the podium.

Class passed by in a blur, then. Minho blinked away the tears stinging his eyes. He tried to focus on the presented material but he just couldn’t. Damian’s words kept echoing in his mind. “Where you belong...where you belong.”

Where did he belong?

Here at Hogwarts? Probably not. He struggled so much with the lessons and ate up too much of Kibum’s time getting him to help him pass his classes. Back with his family? The most logical answer, but...He hadn’t heard from them since the day he left, and it was nearing on April. Korea? Sure. It had been his home, until now, after all.

One thing was for sure: as long as he was at Hogwarts, he would never speak up in class again.

Minho sniffed when the bell rang to end class. Flitwick was giving out homework as they all collected their things, but Minho couldn’t hear him. The cacophony of sounds was gibberish to his ears. He’d have to ask Kibum for it later. He was swept up with the crowd on the way to History of Magic.

His and Kibum’s desk was empty and, as usual, Damian and Jared occupied the desk before them. Minho ignored their chatter as he rummaged through his backpack, found his textbook, and set it on his desk. He folded his arms around the book and laid his cheek on the cover of the book with a heavy sigh.

Sunlight streamed weakly through the windows as if there was a cloud moving over it. Little specks of dust glittered as they filtered through the sun-gilded space. It didn’t take long for the clouds to part and allow the sun to brighten up the classroom.

Thud!

Minho started at the sound of a book being dropped on the desk and sat up. He looked behind him to see Kibum sliding into his spot beside him.

“Hey!” He said, his cheeks dimpling as he grinned. The tension in Minho’s chest lessened slightly and he tried to return the smile. Kibum’s smile dimmed as he searched Minho’s face. “Something wrong?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho saw Damian and Jared turn a little in their seats to listen. “No, I’m okay.”

“So,” Kibum scooted closer and lowered his voice, his eyes glittering with excitement. “Jemima forgot her gloves and accidentally touched the aconite leaves we were studying. Sprout taught us how to treat the rash right then and there.”

“Is she okay?”

“Oh yeah, Sprout knows what she’s doing. She was Grandma’s favorite teacher in school and I can understand why. She actually kinda reminds me of Grandma.”

Minho gave Kibum half a smile. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“She’s looking forward to meeting you, too. Hopefully, you can meet her at King’s Cross.”

“Yeah.”

Tears brimmed in Minho’s eyes again and he looked away. He fiddled with the corner of his textbook as Binns materialized behind his desk. He adjusted his silvery glasses as his voice droned, “We’re picking up where we left off last time. Turn to page 203. Chapter 7: Emeric the Evil.”

Pages rustled as they all turned to find their places. Minho sighed and leaned against Kibum as he flipped through his textbook, their shoulders pressed together. The simple touch was enough to calm him, if only a little, and he blinked away the tears.

He ended up falling asleep, which was not unusual in the slightest for this class. When he woke, the classroom was empty, save for Kibum and him. Kibum’s quill stilled when Minho shifted and sat up a little. He continued to write as Minho yawned.

“Feeling any better?” He nodded without lifting his head from Kibum’s shoulder. “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?”

Sighing, Minho sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. “I...well,” he stuttered, cringing at his English as he thought back to Charms. He cleared his throat and switched to Korean. “I think I was just tired.”

“Ah.” Kibum set his quill on the desk and blew on his notes to dry the ink. “I’m glad you got to nap, then. Are you sure that’s all that was wrong?”

He could tell Kibum what Damian said, but what good would come from that? None. He would just be more of a burden to his best friend here and he didn’t want to drive Kibum away or worry him unnecessarily.

Back in Korea, he once told Minseok about a couple of kids making some jokes at his expense. Then, Minseok had gotten in trouble for fighting. When Minseok explained what happened to their parents, they ended up reprimanding Minho for getting his brother in detention instead of going to the proper authorities.

No, he could handle this himself -- even if handling it meant doing his best to ignore whatever Damian and his friends said. They were only words, after all...he could do this.

“Yup!” Minho smiled and stretched his arms over his textbook. He looked back at Kibum after he slipped A History of Magic back into his backpack. “Let’s go to lunch, I’m getting hungry.”

“Me too.” Kibum gathered up his things and followed after Minho as he started to the door.

“Race you there!” Minho grinned and picked up his pace when Kibum laughed, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as they ran.