He almost shouted it out, nearly forgetting that it was already late at night.
"So, should we go to the greenhouse right now and 'borrow' a few pots of Echo Grass?"
"Not yet."
Alan's calm voice cut through Fred's enthusiasm like a knife. He shook his head, and his deep gaze swept across their flushed faces, dousing their unrealistic fantasies like a bucket of cold water.
He pointed out the most critical—and fatal—technical problem in their plan.
"To realize my 'cat meows, dog barks' scheme, we'll need one indispensable tool: a way to activate the plant with precise accuracy."
Alan paused deliberately, making sure every word etched itself clearly into their minds.
"In other words, you must first learn a very basic, though obscure, spell—
the Sonic Charm.
A variant of Sonorus."
"Sonic Charm?"
The word was completely foreign to the twins and Lee Jordan. They exchanged blank looks, confusion written all over their faces.
"Simply put, it lets you emit a short burst of sound at a specific frequency—one inaudible to the human ear."
Alan explained with the tone of someone stating a scientific principle, not a magical theory.
"This will serve as the 'remote control' for the Echo Grass. Once you master it, we'll be able to trigger our prank from outside Filch's office, anytime, anywhere."
That very night, the Gryffindor boys' dormitory once again transformed into Alan's private classroom.
Alan carefully explained the principle and casting method of the Sonic Charm. The incantation and wand movements were not complicated—any first-year could imitate them.
The true difficulty lay in one maddeningly abstract concept:
"Frequency."
Fred volunteered first. He raised his wand high, mimicking Alan's stance, concentrated, and muttered the incantation under his breath.
The wand tip glowed faintly.
Bzzz.
A barely audible sound, like a mosquito flying by, flickered into existence—then vanished instantly.
Nothing happened.
"Keep the tip steady," Alan instructed. "Focus your mind. Imagine the sound you want to produce—not with your throat, but with your magic. Make it vibrate."
George went next. He drew a deep breath, clenched his lips, and turned red from the effort. His wand trembled slightly from overexertion.
Bzzz… bzzz… bzzz…
This time the sound lasted a little longer, but it was still nothing but meaningless noise. It sounded more like a bee trapped inside a glass bottle.
Lee Jordan's attempt ended no better.
The practice continued for an entire evening. Their discarded, sweat-soaked robes lay scattered across the floor. Sweat streamed down their faces, their arms sore from raising wands again and again.
Yet the sounds they produced remained nothing more than faint, useless buzzing. Chaotic and inconsistent, rising and falling, but never once striking the precise frequency Alan demanded.
"Why… why doesn't it work?"
Fred finally broke down. He flung his wand onto the bed in frustration. It bounced twice on the velvet quilt and lay still. His chest heaved, his eyes filled with defeat and confusion.
"Because your understanding is wrong from the very foundation."
Alan's voice came at just the right moment. He had been waiting for this: for them to burn out all their enthusiasm and patience, to crash into the wall of so-called "common sense." Only then could new knowledge truly sink in.
He seized the chance to explain a deeper layer of magical theory.
Alan picked up his own wand. The holly fit perfectly in his hand.
"You believe that casting a spell only requires sufficient magic and the correct incantation.
But in truth, there's another, even more crucial factor—
Frequency."
Seeing the puzzlement on their faces, he elaborated.
"Every spell has its own unique resonant frequency.
Think of it this way: the world is like a Muggle radio. The air is filled with countless signals, all at once. But your radio can only tune into the station you want if you adjust it to the correct frequency.
Magic works the same way. Your mental power is the tuner. You must adjust the flow of your magic, modulate it to the correct frequency, before the Sonic Charm can actually work."
To make the lesson more vivid, Alan decided to give them a demonstration.
He raised his wand, movements calm and deliberate.
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
In that instant, his entire presence shifted. The noise of the room, the burning stares of his roommates—all of it vanished behind an invisible barrier. In his mind palace, the precise model of a dog's bark was instantly retrieved.
It was not a vague idea, but a complete data structure, accurate down to every millisecond and hertz.
His mental power—an invisible, intangible force of immense strength—reached into the river of magic flowing within him. Like a master craftsman, he began to modulate the current.
Then he opened his eyes.
The wand tip flicked forward.
"Woof!"
A crisp, powerful bark exploded into the dormitory.
It came from nowhere, not from any throat. It materialized directly in the air—real to the point of terror. The sound was deep and commanding, laced with the authority unique to a large hound. It even stirred a faint echo off the stone walls.
Fred, George, and Lee Jordan froze.
Mouths agape. Eyes wide. Staring at Alan as if he were a monster wearing human skin.
They had sweated and struggled for hours, producing nothing but mosquito-buzzing. And Alan? He simply closed his eyes, opened them, and conjured a perfect, lifelike bark.
As they gawked in horror, Alan calmly lowered his wand.
The magic dissipated, and silence reclaimed the dormitory.
Only then did the three finally understand the crushing truth:
The gulf between themselves and Alan wasn't merely one of magical strength or knowledge.
It was a gulf in understanding—
in how deeply he grasped the very essence of magic.
~~----------------------
Patreon Advance Chapters:
[email protected] / Dreamer20