When Robert stepped onto the stage, the Hufflepuff students erupted into the most enthusiastic applause of the day.
They hadn't forgotten.
It was Robert's outstanding performance in the last Lumos challenge that had kept Hufflepuff in the lead for the House Cup over the past few weeks.
Whether he won this time or not didn't matter as much.
What mattered was that Robert's performance would certainly be memorable.
Professor Sprout clapped vigorously as well, her eyes filled with anticipation.
Some of the other professors exchanged puzzled glances.
True, they'd heard Robert had placed first in the previous Lumos competition, but at the time, most of the other young wizards hadn't taken the event seriously. With some effort, it wasn't unthinkable that Robert could have surpassed them back then.
But now, things were different. The other students had started putting in genuine effort. At this stage, raw magical talent was becoming the determining factor.
And in terms of talent, they weren't exactly optimistic about Robert's prospects.
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin section, Malfoy eyed Robert with smug confidence.
He was sure of his impending victory.
With his natural talent, weeks of focused effort, and the boost from the Phosphorescence Potion, Malfoy believed there was no way he could lose to someone like Robert—especially since Robert had also been spending quite a bit of time on Quidditch practice.
This was his chance.
Malfoy clenched his fists, eyes glittering with anticipation.
He was ready to crush Robert on this stage.
And in doing so, he would lead Slytherin to snatch the House Cup lead away from Hufflepuff.
Only then would he feel truly vindicated.
His gaze was locked onto the stage.
He didn't want to miss a single moment—especially not the ones he could use to mock Robert later.
Robert, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by the eyes on him.
Casting Lumos had become second nature to him. Hundreds of thousands of repetitions had turned it into instinct.
And now, he raised his wand with serene composure.
"Lumos."
His voice was calm and steady.
The spell traced a flawless arc through the air.
A radiant light burst forth, filling the room and casting an almost holy glow.
Something extraordinary happened.
Those students who had just stumbled through their own spells—nervous, discouraged, and disappointed—felt an unexpected sense of comfort from Robert's Lumos.
Their regret softened.
Their fear lessened.
A quiet strength welled up in them—the courage to face failure.
On the judging panel, Professor Quirrell, who had been largely forgettable during the session, suddenly trembled when Robert's Lumos lit the room.
He looked startled.
Thankfully, all eyes were fixed on the dazzling spellwork, so no one noticed—except for Dumbledore, who quickly glanced at Quirrell, then looked away.
By the time the other professors turned their attention toward Quirrell, he had already composed himself.
A quiet murmur rippled across the panel.
"Didn't they say his magical talent was below average?"
"How did he reach this level with Lumos?"
Their astonishment was understandable.
Most wizards only ever learned Lumos because it was one of the first spells taught. For most, it remained just that—a basic light spell.
Few ever took it further.
This group of young wizards would likely forget Lumos altogether in the coming weeks as they moved on to more advanced spells.
Why invest time and effort into refining something so elementary?
And yet, here stood Robert, turning an ordinary spell into something extraordinary.
Such mastery of Lumos was virtually unheard of, especially from a student believed to lack magical aptitude.
The professors couldn't help but glance over at Professor Sprout, suspicion in their eyes.
Had she given him some magical aid—perhaps a special plant with similar effects to the Phosphorescence Potion?
But then they saw the tears welling in her eyes.
She looked at them, voice trembling with emotion.
"You think I helped him?"
"No… This is all because of his effort."
"He practiced Lumos thousands of times each night. Day after day. Night after night."
"That's it."
Silence fell.
Even Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly, touched by the sincerity of her words.
Professor Sprout wasn't one to lie—especially not about something like this.
So it had really been all Robert.
His own perseverance.
What kind of relentless determination must he have had to reach this level, despite his limited talent?
Dumbledore sighed inwardly.
If Robert had just a little more magical talent—just enough to be considered slightly below average—his potential would have been limitless.
What a shame.
Still, the regret that had started to stir in Dumbledore's heart was soon overtaken by admiration.
He rose from his seat and began to clap.
"An almost perfect Lumos."
"Robert, your level of mastery surpasses all other students in your year."
"Even many older students would be hard-pressed to match this."
"You must have trained incredibly hard to get here."
"So, I hereby announce: you are the first-place winner."
"Hufflepuff will receive 25 points for your performance. In addition, Professor Flitwick will create a personalized spell just for you."
"And… my Extinguisher is now yours."
Dumbledore paused, then smiled.
"Also, I would like to personally award you an extra 20 points for the House Cup."
"To thank you… for setting an example."
The room exploded into cheers.
The Charms classroom, once tense and quiet, now roared with excitement.
Earlier, the students had been anxiously calculating the House Cup standings.
If Malfoy had placed higher and the results stood unchanged, Slytherin would have surged ahead with a commanding lead.
But Robert had taken first place.
And on top of that, Dumbledore had granted him 20 bonus points.
The gap between Hufflepuff and Slytherin had not just closed—it had widened again!
Slytherin students were stunned, some even groaning aloud.
They had studied hard. Practiced relentlessly. Even relied on magical potions.
And still… they had lost.
In contrast, the Hufflepuffs were radiant with joy.
They had held the House Cup lead for five weeks straight—and now, their advantage looked more secure than ever.
This could be it.
The first time in decades that Hufflepuff might win the House Cup!
"The Daily Prophet might report on this," someone whispered excitedly.
"My mum will be thrilled. She always regretted never winning the Cup when she was here."
At that moment, Dumbledore walked up to Robert.
"It's time for the awards ceremony."
He handed Robert the shimmering, enchanted Extinguisher—a magical item rarely given to students.
"Take it, child," Dumbledore said softly.
"It's yours."
Then, placing a hand gently on Robert's shoulder, he added:
"May it light your way when you are lost."
Robert could feel the warmth and encouragement in Dumbledore's voice.
He accepted the gift with a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore."
"I'm sure it will help me greatly."
Just then, Professor Flitwick approached with a cheerful grin.
"Well then, Robert," he said, beaming.
"It's time to tell me what kind of personalized spell you'd like."
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