Even for wizards, uncovering the laws that govern magic is no simple feat. It demands a painstaking process of reverse deduction—experimenting, observing, and gradually piecing together patterns from countless trials, magical or otherwise.
Sometimes, this journey stretches on for years, requiring endless rounds of induction before any meaningful rule emerges.
Wyzett had come to appreciate this arduous process all the more through Professor Snape's private lessons. He now understood just how difficult it was to reach genuine breakthroughs.
But the Oculus Magicae—the Eye of Magic—changed everything. With it, he could see the patterns themselves, laid bare before his mind's eye.
Instead of working backwards, Wyzett could now reason forward from the rules themselves, exploring what new possibilities they might unlock. It was, without question, an extraordinary ability.
Yet, this gift was inextricably linked to his own knowledge. If he were ignorant of magical theory, even the clearest patterns would mean nothing—he wouldn't know how to interpret them, let alone use them as stepping stones for new insights.
After all, most wizarding methods are built on reverse deduction. To reason forward, he needed to draw on everything he'd learned from that backward process.
This unique property of the Oculus Magicae suited Wyzett's nature perfectly. In a world brimming with magical wonders, there was always something new to study, to master, to marvel at.
He drew a slow breath, savoring the taste of Mandrake leaf as it slid down his throat, its essence mingling with his body and mind.
"So that's it… That's why Mandrake leaves are used!"
"It seems our work here is done," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile, tucking away his wand. The night sky and castle seemed to rush back toward them as reality snapped into place.
Seeing Dumbledore's cue, Flitwick and Professor McGonagall also lowered their wands. Soft moonlight returned, bathing the Scottish Highlands in its silvery glow.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Headmaster Dumbledore!" Wyzett offered a deep, sincere bow.
He spoke with a touch of embarrassment, "I honestly didn't expect to trouble you all so much."
"It's no trouble at all!" Flitwick beamed. "Helping a student from my own House—well, that makes me very, very happy indeed!"
He put special emphasis on "my own House," shooting a playful wink at Dumbledore and McGonagall.
The two professors exchanged a look, then shook their heads in unison, sighing with theatrical resignation.
"Filius, Wyzett is, without a doubt, a Ravenclaw," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye.
"Wyzett, why not share with us—in true Ravenclaw fashion—what you've discovered?"
A cold wind whipped around them as Wyzett glanced about. Nights on the Scottish Highlands were always chilly, but with autumn deepening, the air was especially biting.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, could we go somewhere warmer? I'll need to use a Pensieve."
"A Pensieve?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "It seems you've mastered some mental magic after all. There's one in my office—shall we?"
On their way back to the headmaster's office, the group crossed paths with the ever-mischievous Weasley twins in the eighth-floor corridor.
Fred and George had just slipped out of a portrait when they nearly collided with Professor McGonagall, who stood there with lips pressed tight and a formidable air.
Even in late autumn, the twins were sweating bullets.
George managed a sheepish grin. "Ah—good evening, Professor McGonagall…"
"And Headmaster Dumbledore… Professor Flitwick… Wyzett!" Fred rubbed his eyes. "Did you get caught too?"
"Good evening," Dumbledore said with a conspiratorial wink. "No one's been caught—just a bit of business. We'll be on our way shortly."
"Oh, right, right!" The twins nodded vigorously, clearly catching Dumbledore's drift.
They patted the portrait frame and called out the Gryffindor common room password: "Honeybird!"
The Fat Lady in the portrait looked thoroughly displeased. She'd just donned a flamboyant feathered hat, clearly planning a social visit to another painting.
"Oh, honestly! Back again? Don't you two usually stay out until—"
"Hahaha! Fat Lady, you're hilarious!"
Fred and George drowned out her protests with raucous laughter, doing their best to smooth the deepening lines in McGonagall's brow.
Dumbledore chuckled, shrugging at the twins. "Minerva, shall we?"
The twins sighed in relief, waving frantically. "Good night! Good night!"
With that, they darted back into the Gryffindor common room.
In the headmaster's office, the ancient phoenix Fawkes let out a low, resonant trill from his perch.
This was, in fact, why Dumbledore had chosen to walk—Fawkes, in his current state, would struggle to Apparate even a single person.
Wyzett greeted the phoenix with respect, then produced a Dirigible Plum and placed it gently in front of him.
Fawkes nuzzled Wyzett's palm with his beak before picking up the plum and eating it with slow, deliberate dignity.
"He'll be right as rain after his next rebirth," Dumbledore said, moving to a cabinet and retrieving an ornate stone basin.
The Pensieve was carved with countless ancient runes, each one worn by time.
"Sorting through and categorizing memories is no easy task," he remarked, glancing at Wyzett. "Don't push yourself too hard."
Wyzett nodded solemnly. "I've mastered a memory extraction spell, and I learned the use of the Memory Charm from Professor Lockhart."
"These types of mental magic seem to overlap in places… Even Occlumency shares some similarities. So I'm not overexerting myself."
"Lockhart…" Flitwick massaged his temples. "Seems he does something useful on occasion."
"Indeed," McGonagall agreed, "though if only he'd put on fewer theatrics during lessons."
She shot a look at Dumbledore, who responded with a knowing blink. Everything was going smoothly.
Wyzett raised his wand to his temple. "Memoria Exhaurire!"
He moved with deliberate care, as if sorting through a mental archive, before finally drawing out a single, silvery strand.
The shimmering thread drifted down, dissolving into the Pensieve.
"A deft touch," Dumbledore praised. "Shall we take a look?"
As they plunged into the memory, Dumbledore and the others were immediately struck by the uncanny sensation—suspended somewhere between reality and thought.
Dumbledore couldn't help but marvel again, "More masterful than I imagined! To create a memory so vivid, yet so free from personal bias—truly remarkable!"
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