"The magic of a Prismari Sorcerer springs from the surging, chaotic tides of elemental power. They excel at conjuring magic on a grand scale. With elemental magic as their brush, and the world itself as their canvas, what they bring forth are magnificent spectacles of elemental wonder."
Ivy softly recited the class description of a Prismari Sorcerer.
In the D&D cosmology, sorcerers are innate spellcasters. This means their magic is not learned through study but is something they are born with, woven into their very blood and soul.
Unlike wizards, who require many conditions and preparation before casting spells, sorcerers unleash magic almost as if by instinct—an impulse bursting forth. While this grants them greater flexibility in casting, it also limits them: the types of spells they can wield are bound by the magic inherent in their bloodline.
But for Ivy, who possessed the Perfect Multiclass trait, such limitations barely mattered. Long before stepping into the path of a Prismari Sorcerer, he was already a qualified wizard.
And what's the standard for a "qualified wizard"?
Why, of course—whether you can cast Fireball! What else could it be?
Unlike Wizards of Quandrix, a Prismari Sorcerer gains a series of class features from level 1.
The first was Primordial Speaker.
The arcane magic they channeled was infused with elemental essence, allowing them to speak, read, and write Primordial. Mastering this tongue also enabled mutual understanding with dialects such as Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran.
In practice, this meant Ivy could communicate with elemental beings. Elementals usually resided in their own planes, but with the right summoning spells, casters could draw them into the material world as allies. Knowing Primordial would let Ivy give them far more precise and nuanced commands.
The second feature was Wild Magic Surge of the Elements.
Because of the restless elemental energy pulsing in their core, every elemental spell cast by a Prismari Sorcerer expanded in scale. The effect range increased by 2d6 feet, and with each additional spell slot level, that bonus grew by +1d6 feet.
It was an impressively powerful ability—perfectly aligned with the class description of "creating large-scale magical effects." And in terms of raw strength, it was frightening. Sorcerers could cast up to 9th-level spells, meaning the maximum enhancement was +10d6 feet, up to 60 feet in radius.
Sixty feet—nearly 20 meters. That was an enormous boost. For comparison, the classic 9th-level spell Meteor Swarm had an explosion radius of just 40 feet. Statistically, a +10d6 bonus averaged around 35 feet—meaning this ability alone could nearly double Meteor Swarm's blast radius.
And doubling the radius didn't just mean doubling the area. The area of a circle grows with the square of the radius, so the destructive coverage would multiply several times over. And since most elemental spells created effects closer to spheres rather than flat circles, when factoring in three dimensions, the devastation became even more terrifying.
Of course, there was a downside. In tight quarters, casting such an amplified spell could be disastrous—collapsing corridors, caving in rooms, or worse, burying the caster themselves. Friendly fire was one thing—but accidentally entombing yourself in rubble was the kind of "fun" nobody wanted.
Despite the class being so dazzling, Ivy couldn't afford to invest even a single experience point into it yet. Every scrap of his remaining EXP had already gone into his latest creation—the little fire dragon sculpture flying circles around him.
And worse still, since this draconic figurine wasn't a true perfected Elemental Golem, Ivy couldn't contract it as a familiar. At best, it was merely a finely crafted magical construct capable of independent action.
But thanks to Ivy's careful craftsmanship, the tiny metallic-gloss dragon held undeniable artistic value.
When he brought it back to the Slytherin common room, every gaze instantly turned his way again.
And none stared harder than young heir Draco Malfoy. His eyes were wide as saucers, locked unblinking on the miniature fire dragon circling Ivy. He followed it round and round, nearly dizzy from tracking it. When the little dragon landed on Ivy's head, raised its snout, and let out a proud "Gaoooh!" before spitting a burst of flame, Draco visibly shuddered, almost forgetting to breathe.
The name Draco—Latin for "Dragon," and the constellation Draco in the heavens—was no coincidence. His love for dragons ran bone-deep. And so, in front of the watching crowd, Draco stepped forward, his gaze still flicking up toward the tiny dragon above Ivy.
"Ivy," Draco swallowed hard, his voice uncertain and hesitant. "Christmas is coming soon… I remember you said on the train that your parents are—well, anyway… would you like to spend the Christmas holidays at my home as my guest?"
Unlike Muggle schools in the Northern Hemisphere, Hogwarts had three main holidays: summer break, the Christmas holidays, and the Easter holidays.
Summer vacation lasted about nine weeks—the longest break of the year. Christmas and Easter were shorter, and students could either stay at school or go home.
Easter break was usually right before final exams, so professors buried students under mountains of homework, making it anything but pleasant.
But the Christmas holidays, coming in the middle of the school year, were different. Professors rarely assigned extra work, so students had every reason to truly enjoy themselves.
For Ivy, Christmas break had originally promised to be a rare stretch of leisure—no more torturing the Quidditch team "trolls," and no piles of homework from professors. He had planned to shut himself away and dive into magical research.
But seeing Ivy hesitate, Draco pressed on nervously:
"You know, I write to my parents often. They always send back sweets and treats. And I've mentioned you in my letters… quite a lot, actually." Draco sneaked another glance at the little fire dragon. "They say you're destined for greatness—that I should learn from you. If you came, they'd be absolutely delighted."
Then Draco leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper:
"And besides… I still owe you a few Dark artifacts. The school censors all owl posts, so I can't send them directly. But if you came to Malfoy Manor… well, you'd be able to browse our family's collection yourself."