Learning magic has always seemed to lean on talent more than effort.
Wizards usually explain the Levitation Charm as: say the incantation, then "a swish and flick." Anything beyond that turns as fuzzy as the glug-glug of a cauldron.
Even Professor Flitwick mostly drills clear pronunciation, then the same old "swish and flick."
After memorizing The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, Sean still couldn't find a more detailed explanation. He had reason to suspect that charms simply follow old, experience-based rules.
And once it's an "art of experience," precision drifts: How far should the swish travel? How big should the flick be? These are hard to define and usually get dumped on a young wizard's "talent" to solve.
Of course, Sean also suspected that those with enough talent never have this problem at all—they just succeed.
Which leaves a problem:
Talented wizards don't have this headache; talentless ones can't solve it. They burn mountains of time "practicing" purely on luck.
In the end, these issues get left behind—just like the ones Sean ran into with potions.
Sean didn't think magic overlapped much with science, but whether his proficiency ticked up or not told him at least this: there is a way to cast more easily.
"Yes—the arm swing should be a bit bigger. And in the incantation, the stress lands on the sa. A small detail: the vi after that is also stressed…"
Under the glow of a lantern, Sean coached Justin carefully, laying out everything he understood about Levitation.
When Justin followed his standards to the letter, the feather that had never stayed aloft five seconds drifted for ten.
"Merlin! Sean—we did it!" Justin whispered, eyes fixed as the feather slowly settled. "Sean, this is all you. Thank you."
Sean nodded to show he'd heard.
"I think a slightly bigger swing would be even better… but—after the stressed vi, is the Le still stressed?" Hermione had been peeking from behind her book for a while. She suddenly spoke up—still a touch high-and-mighty—but the other two ignored the tone entirely.
"Mm, I think it should be even heavier. As for the swing… try it. But—" Sean glanced at the feather. He was about to say his magic hadn't recovered yet—
—and before he could, Justin was already casting.
Are all Hufflepuffs this attentive? Sean blinked.
All three watched the feather—this time it bobbed and floated for fifteen seconds. The instant it dropped, Justin breathed, "Wow! Hermione, your hunch was spot on!"
Hermione lifted her slightly flushed face; she basked in the praise.
They ran a whole string of experiments after that, happily tinkering until Sean's magic recovered, he pushed Levitation up to Adept, and then… drained himself again.
Time slipped like fine sand. The lantern swayed as it followed them out of the hidden room.
Sean was satisfied—+45 proficiency. Hermione was satisfied—her bright ideas had found a partner on the same wavelength (and maybe "smarter") in Sean, plus a tireless test subject in Justin. Justin was thrilled—he'd found a new world.
By evening, Hogwarts was already drifting into dreams.
At the far end of a third-floor corridor, a wall subtly shifted, revealing a cracked, yellowed oil painting: a snow-white owl in a velvet waistcoat with tiny pince-nez, pushing up its slipping glasses with a fluffy talon—so human it was almost comical, even a little peevish.
"Little wizards! Nasty little wizards!" it squealed as Justin and Hermione left the room. But when Sean passed, it stopped short and muttered, "Little wizard—clever little wizard…"
While they waited for the stairs to swing in, Hermione's voice rose over the rumble: "I think we'll be using this room regularly… so we should tell a professor. Professor Flitwick will definitely let us practice Charms here."
Justin chimed in, awed: "Trust you to think of that—so thorough, Hermione!"
She colored a bit and glanced at Sean. When he nodded, she quickly said goodbye and vanished at the corridor's end, leaving Sean and Justin to walk through the warm-lit halls.
"Um, Sean—today you didn't even touch the Yorkshire pudding… Was the potion brewing not going well?" Justin asked quietly, catching Sean off guard. Could he connect those two things that fast?
Sean gave a small nod.
"Was it Professor Snape? I've heard he never allows first-years to brew on their own—but he's indulgent with some upper-year Slytherins… I doubt you failed the brew, so—need help? Snape's scary, but I've got the courage to go to his office."
Justin's words left Sean more silent. He looked up; the little badger's eyes shone with gentle resolve.
"Remember? We're friends. If you're in trouble and I don't reach out, what kind of friend would I be?"
…
Night. Pale-blue curtains stirred; the wind at the window always soothed Sean. The fire crackled. He recalled Justin's parting words:
"Even if I'm scared, I'll grit my teeth and go… The prefect says there's no school rule at Hogwarts that forbids first-years from brewing."
Ravenclaw had only one Herbology class on Friday. Sean had a whole Friday to wait for Snape to clear out of the dungeon.
He watched the picture-book moonlight and let his thoughts churn:
Hogwarts—a thousand-year-old school of magic.
Hufflepuff—a warm and wonderful house.
Together they raise wizards with life in them. They might not be dazzling, might not be easy to remember—but as Helga Hufflepuff said:
Hard work, loyalty, and kindness are great virtues too.
A complicated, gentle feeling stirred in Sean's chest. Advanced Potion-Making lay open on the sill; the whisper of pages made him picture Justin's notes splayed out in the library:
"The prefect says Hufflepuffs are loyal and trustworthy. We don't pick fights, but we aren't pushovers either. Like our badger crest, we'll protect ourselves from anyone who means us harm—and we'll help our friends and family. There's nothing we're afraid of."
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 50 Chapters Ahead of Others!