The next day, after the morning lesson with McGonagall, Blake decided to ask the old woman a question that he'd been wondering about since yesterday.
"How did people even make spells to begin with?"
McGonagall smiled at the question. By now, it was obvious to her that the boy was very intelligent, and unafraid to ask questions too. They'd successfully already covered and consolidated second year content, and were now on third year, and even that, the boy was picking up remarkably quickly.
Not only that either - McGonagall, being the strict but caring Professor that she was, wanted to ensure that boy wasn't slacking off in any of his other subjects because of the extra lessons, so she had asked around casually for the boy's progress in other subjects. Unsurprisingly, she learnt that Blake wasn't just doing okay in all his classes - no, the boy was excelling.
Professor Binns, although slightly upset by the regular naps in his class from Blake, enthusiastically (for him) asserted that his essays were among the best in the year. Sinistra was generous in complimenting the boy's natural ability at Astronomy, and Flitwick positively gushed over his Charms work. Even Professor Snape begrudgingly admitted that Blake was talented at Potions. The only two professors that didn't absolutely adore him were Quirrell, who was a nervous, stuttering and in McGonagall's humble opinion useless teacher, and Professor Sprout, who seemed slightly miffed that her subject appeared to be the only one that Blake wasn't very good at - but even she said that he was doing just above average in it, and as for Transfiguration - well, although McGonagall would never admit it to him, the boy might genuinely be the best first year she'd ever taught.
There's no mistake - this boy is a prodigy. And I'm his mentor! she thought with disguised glee.
"That's an interesting question, Mr Renshaw. Why don't you tell me what you think?"
Blake paused for a moment, as if thinking.
"Well, so far, every spell has an incantation and wand movement, right? And with all magic, intent is really important - that's why wandless and wordless magic is possible but rare - it's because it's difficult to channel the intent and magic within oneself at the same time to produce such a specific, desired result."
He looked at McGonagall for confirmation, and after she nodded, he continued.
"So that means, as long as you have the intent - a strong enough intent - I'm assuming that a relevant incantation and some sort of wand movement that fits the spell should be alright to make a spell?"
"That's correct, Mr Renshaw," McGonagall responded, unable to hide her smile.
"The only thing I'd add is that it often takes much trial and error to come up with new spells - the flow of magic isn't always something readable, even for the most talented wizards and witches. But I do hope," she continued with her eyebrows raised, "that you aren't planning on making any dangerous spells?"
Blake laughed. "Of course not, Professor."
"Then may I ask what exactly you're trying to accomplish? Perhaps I can be of some help?" McGonagall was being earnest and genuine, Blake deduced, but she would certainly realise or at least suspect him of something if he told her. Can't exactly say that I was just curious, can I? She'd never believe it. Well, in that case, I'll just say…
"It's a secret," he said, smiling. McGonagall shook her hand in response, hiding a small smile. Good, Blake thought as he headed out of McGonagall's office, slightly relieved, she probably thinks it's for a prank or something.
He went straight to the library, and was unsurprised to find Hermione Granger there, among a bunch of older students - probably OWL and NEWT students. Luckily, the girl was so immersed in whatever book she was reading that she didn't notice his presence.
Blake spent a fair bit of time scanning through the library books, until he finally came across a relevant book - 'Memories in Magic'. The boy's heart rate started to increase rapidly, as he sat down at a desk and took out a scroll and a quill.
Reading through the book, he couldn't contain his smile. Pensieves… memory extraction… memory embedding… Yes - this is perfect, Blake thought, as he scribbled away on his scroll.
Next, he tried to look for spells about correcting grammar, spelling and punctuation, but it appeared that he was out of luck - aside from the often faulty Spell-Checker Quill, there were no spells about that.
It doesn't matter, Blake thought, his good mood undeterred. Right now, I have what I need - now all I need to do is execute.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Blake was alone in his dorm room. He'd rapidly wolfed down his lunch and left the Great Hall, leaving Zabini by himself with the girls, much to the halfblood's chagrin. Tracey's probably winding him up right now, Blake thought, grinning. I was the first in and the first out. So I probably have 30 minutes, maybe 40 if I'm lucky.
Displayed on the desk before him were 4 simple things: 2 scrolsl, a quill and an ink bottle - nothing special, nothing magical - yet.
Remembering what he'd learnt Blake took in a deep breath, and held his wand to his temple, remembering McGonagall's words.
"It's all about intentionality, Mr Renshaw."
He thought about everything that he had learnt in the past 2 weeks, in his lessons and outside of them too - all his writing up until now, muggle and magical. His style of writing, the tone, and even his spelling, grammar and punctuation too.
"Extractum Memoriae!"
Slowly, he moved his wand away from his temple, and to his delight - it worked! A silvery, almost blue, shimmering strand followed the tip of his wand - the memory.
Blake took another deep breath - the first step was complete. Next, he carefully dropped the strand - which was quite long - into the ink bottle, and pointed his wand to the ink bottle, then carefully waved it.
"Memoria Infundere!"
The silvery strand and the ink both glowed for the briefest of moments, before swirling around each other, mixing, until eventually, the strand disappeared. Yes! Blake's confidence grew against, and he said the next spell, placing the quill tip into the ink bottle with one hand, and waving the wand with the other.
"Memoria Vincula!" Again, the components glowed slightly, but this time, there was no other physical change, and Blake didn't know if it worked or not. It should've, he reasoned. The spells aren't particularly hard to do - they're complex, yes, but these spells are more about focus and intention than raw magical power. Either way, the only way I'll know if it worked is if I complete the whole thing.
Blake drew in another deep breath, preparing for the final known spell - technically the easiest spell so far, but this one required the highest level of intentionality yet.
"Locomotor Quill!"
The quill didn't move, but Blake felt that familiar rush of air all the same - perfect. If I messed up the spell, the quill probably would have moved - it's enchanted now.
Now all the known spells are done - time for that spell.
Blake had done his research. It took quite a long time to come with it. The Latin, the exact intent and purpose, the interaction between caster, spell, and quill, and more.
He looked at his notes again.
CLASS OF MAGIC: CHARM
TARGET: QUILL
DURATION: PERMANENT
CONDITION: VOICE COMMAND
NATURE: PHYSICAL AND MENTAL
Given the highly specific and individual nature of the spell, it's not going to be easy - and I'm only 12, and this is my first time.
Roughly 5 or 10 minutes have passed. That might just be enough time.
Blake inhaled.
"Scriptum Exordia!"
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