Regarding the number of spells we study, Flitwick promised he would teach us more than the standard curriculum for our year. Only 12 spells per year for Charms… for context, the same textbook — The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 — contained about 20 distinct spells, and if you counted subtypes, it came out to around 30. Studying them independently was difficult and dangerous; Flitwick himself strictly forbade attempting to learn them until we had covered the basics of safe spellcasting.
You'd think you could just take it and study it, but it's not that simple. Besides the dangers of self-study — fraught with injuries and other unpleasant consequences — they were also difficult to learn from the textbook.
First, each spell was given two or three pages, detailing the spell's creation history, a brief biography of the creator, situations for its use, recommendations, and so on.
Plus, the non-verbal formula, with a breakdown of each movement, and an equally, if not more, detailed breakdown of the verbal formula. But writing down and properly explaining what to do on a piece of paper was difficult. The non-verbal formula (wand movements) was generally denoted by a sequence of numbered movements listed separately at the end of the textbook. For example:
Assume 'Wand Position No. N3', flick sharply downward, change from 'Wand Position No. N3' to 'Wand Position No. N2', smoothly trace 'Symbol No. N2' in the air with the wand tip, change to 'Wand Position No. N3' with a sharp flick.
So, literally every gesture, every movement was allocated about a page explaining in which cases the gesture was used and even providing examples of spells using these movement elements. And this was for first-year spells; I'm afraid to imagine what it's like for older students.
Because of this, it was unrealistic to memorize spells without rote learning, precisely without a teacher. So I diligently crammed all this to immediately understand which movements to make, rather than flipping back and forth, wasting extra time. Thus, my current spell arsenal had only increased by a couple, but the point isn't about quantity.
There's a reason schools don't teach hundreds of spells. It's simply pointless. The average person has enough with the standard curriculum… well, maybe they lack a few household spells, but the Ministry is diligently trying to cut the program.
Yes, I accidentally overheard another conversation — this time between teachers. Although you don't need to be a genius to figure it out. My father has significant influence in the Ministry; I hope he's not involved in this, otherwise I'll have to find a way to influence this matter. I understand it all — they don't want to give the masses the chance to become strong and smart… a classic tactic, but it's a one-way street…
Meanwhile, with my wand, I guided the chair higher. Lifted it to eye level, moved it a bit farther away, and… letting go, I instantly cast the next spell.
"Flipendo!"
A soft clot of energy shot from the wand and almost hit the falling chair, but only almost. Gravity was faster, and the spell once again hit the wall. A characteristic snap and that was it, while the chair crashed to the floor with a thud. At least it didn't need repairing… almost…
Screw it that spell chains aren't working yet. I just need to eliminate the verbal formula, which I haven't managed in a whole month.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The table rose about ten centimeters. It wobbled in the air. The heavier the object, the harder it is to keep it airborne. I slowly raised it higher, maintaining balance.
It wasn't easy. Levitation required constant control; the magic flowed steadily, but if I got distracted, the table would immediately start swaying from side to side, threatening to fall.
I concentrated, leveling the table. It rose a little higher, straining, and then crashed to the floor. Oh well, that's what I planned anyway. Honestly…
Alright, another attempt, and now for proper training. I continued casting Flipendo, or as it's commonly known — the Banishing Charm. A simple but effective spell. The name "Banishing Charm" is just a general term for a group of spells with similar effects but different power levels and sometimes principles of operation. I aimed at the wall, controlling every movement. Faint impact marks, small dents were left on it — okay, I'm lying. It just blew off the years of accumulated dust….
I tried to cast as many spells as possible in the shortest amount of time. Why was I repeating the same spell dozens and hundreds of times? Well, besides hoping to eliminate the verbal formula and make the spell automatic… so that even if I were woken at three in the morning, I could instantly grab my wand and hit the idiot who didn't realize that waking a sleeping person in the middle of the night is a bad idea with the spell! And then preferably manage to repeat it a couple more times to really get my point across.
Besides, with each repetition, I gained better control over the spell; with each repeat, the efficiency seemed to increase. Gradually, the spell became faster, less costly, and easier.
Soon, I switched to Lumos, which I used constantly just for the sake of it, and then extinguished with Nox. This was the spell I managed to transition into the non-verbal and wand-movement-free category without much trouble. Although, when I first started, I only eliminated the verbal formula and kept the wand movement for reliability — meaning I didn't immediately try to create the spell without both components.
Essentially, in my mind, the stages of mastery were as follows:
All components → Everything except gestures (i.e., word + intent + mental image) → Everything except the verbal formula → Intent + Mental Image → Everything, but without the wand.
Then, the same stages, but accounting for casting without a wand. Well, that's just my hypothesis. In theory, this should be the easiest way to transition from one stage to another. It's a pity that wandless magic requires a different non-verbal formula. At least the verbal one remains the same.
Of course, during these thoughts, I kept firing at the wall. Time flowed unnoticed — about half an hour in the silence of the abandoned classroom, filled only by the sounds of my spells and my breathing. Each new spellcast became easier in terms of execution but harder because my hands were already trembling and I was tired.
I cycled through spells, training what I'd conditionally call combat spells, aiming them. Although I'd call Flipendo simply a self-defense spell. Besides it, practicing Incendio would have been useful, but I didn't need a fire, especially since I don't know the counter-charm Glacius, which cools everything down and could extinguish the results of Incendio.
Regarding fire spells, I knew a spell that could ignite small objects — Lacarnum Inflamarae. For example, to light a campfire, or a fireplace, or someone's clothes. A useful thing overall.
Of course, I had a simpler version of a fire spell that worked like Lumos, but I had long since mastered it to the stage of being non-verbal and wand-movement-free.
I also repeated Colloportus and Alohomora a couple of times. Colloportus — the Locking Spell, used to lock doors, locks, and other objects, making them impossible to open without magic.
Alohomora, its counter-charm. The Unlocking Spell, capable of unlocking doors and locks not protected by strong magic, and also removing certain magical locks like Colloportus.
Another interesting one I practiced was Levicorpus — not to be confused with Wingardium Leviosa. Simple Levicorpus worked by touching the object with the wand. And if its advanced version, Wingardium, allowed levitating objects from a distance, this variant simply made the touched object levitate. Also, the spell didn't lift things very high, but without further intervention, it could work for exactly 15 minutes, during which the object would levitate without the wizard. The heavier the object, the lower it levitates.
You might think there's no point in learning it if there's an advanced and much more useful version, but this extremely old spell had extensive applications where you needed to keep an object in the air without constant wizard intervention and where more convenient items weren't available; this unpretentious and easy variant could come in handy.
So I practiced, spell after spell. I tried to repeat secondary spells about 10 times, while the most important ones, in my opinion, I repeated until I dropped. For example, the same Flipendo, with which I ended my training.
I also didn't forget to switch my primary hand, so that in emergencies, or Merlin forbid, if I lost a hand, I could still cast spells. I also changed stances and hand positions along the way. I don't know how useful it was, but I'll ask my father to hire someone this summer to teach me dueling arts, or ideally, hire a tutor to teach me how to fight with magic, not just duel on a platform. In short, I need a combat mage.
When I felt the muscles in my arm beginning to ache slightly due to poor blood flow, and my magical pulse weakened and was no longer as smooth as at the beginning, I stopped. A slight depletion of the magical system. And depletion is a wizard's worst enemy. Our former Auror and current DADA teacher often tells us that.
Professor Kember was a highly respected Dark wizard catcher who recently turned 80, but despite this, he was a robust-looking and still healthy man with colossal experience.
After retiring about 20 years ago, he became an instructor at the Auror training school, but now he decided to take a short break and teach us kids at the request of his old friend Albus Dumbledore.
That was almost a direct quote from the first lesson. There's still a whole day ahead, but it's fine. It's unlikely someone will try to kill me in the corridor, and I can definitely handle a couple of spells in DADA — I'm not that tired. And before that, there's still double Potions and an hour of boring sitting in Binns' class, which will be more than enough to partially restore my magical strength and completely drain my mental fortitude. I swear — he's not a ghost, he's an energy vampire.
Taking a deep breath, I ran my palm over my face, wiping away droplets of sweat, then headed for the door. Good thing I brought my textbooks; I can go straight to the Great Hall. In the first days, I used to go back to the common room. Sometimes my genius amazes me, in other situations my stupidity kills me…
The Great Hall greeted me, half-empty and with yawning students. I took my usual place at the table. There were no tables behind me anymore; from here, I could observe the other tables, and it was calm behind me. The perfect spot.
However, there were still about 20 minutes until the start, and since only upper-years were sitting at our table for now, I decided to take out my DADA textbook and refresh my knowledge on werewolves. We have a test on that topic today. The former Auror pays a lot of attention to this topic, apparently he doesn't get along with the fleabags.
But I couldn't focus on reading. Thoughts crept into my head, so I just put the textbook aside and started listening to my own thoughts, which flowed smoothly, like magic, one after another. In that other world, I would have just turned on music and told the thoughts that troubled my mind to get lost, but now I've learned not to be afraid of my thoughts. Surprisingly, this way, no regrets arose, and questions that kept me awake at night didn't pop into my head.
The first month passed quickly. During this time, I solidified the spells I learned at home and literally hammered them into my reflexes. I even managed to independently learn a couple of new spells, like Levicorpus.
I also finally delved into Transfiguration and Potions. In these areas, I was almost a novice in terms of practical skills. After all, homeschooling was quite superficial and aimed at broadening horizons and understanding basic principles. Well, if you ignore the non-magical disciplines and history, which was labeled 'magical' in school, but in fact, magical and non-magical history are so intertwined that magical history is almost a carbon copy of events, just without mentioning wizards.
After all, all events before the Statute didn't happen without wizards, and what happened after often reflected the wizarding world. Like World War II, which wouldn't have happened without Grindelwald.
So, what's the verdict after the first month of studying at one of the 11 best magical schools? I was satisfied, even despite the number of spells we would be studying. We mustn't forget that the curriculum is designed for 11-year-old children without exceptional genius. Right now, I could afford to learn more and study further, but that's only because I was clearly above average and because I have the experience of a 22-year-old student from a semi-mathematical field — which, I'll tell you, is like hard labor.
Sane people either don't go there, or go by accident hoping for slightly different subjects, like I did. Mathematics is only loved by either truly intelligent people — bordering on genius — or masochists.
And again, I remember that life… sometimes memories intrude right in the middle of a thought, and it's annoying. So, for now, we were more focused on the basics, which might not be necessary for basic spells right now, but according to Flitwick, they will definitely be needed in the future.
As for Transfiguration, I'll say that despite not studying this discipline much at home, I was doing quite well. In general, I began to notice that I have a certain talent for applied magic. I managed to turn a match into a needle literally on the second attempt. In Transfiguration, having a good imagination and faith in what you're doing is especially important. The mental image here was even more critical than in Charms.
DADA was also an interesting subject, and Kember, although he didn't have much experience teaching children, managed thanks to his real experience fighting dark forces and training slightly older "kids" at the Auror training school.
Only two subjects gave me trouble: Herbology and Potions. And although I almost always managed an 'Exceeds Expectations' or 'Outstanding', it was harder for me than in other disciplines where I only had 'Outstanding' grades.
As for my surroundings…
From the very beginning, I stood out among the first-years only due to my family's status, and since I wasn't a fool myself, I managed to earn some respect up to this day. I was gradually becoming a kind of leader in the Slytherin year.
From the first day, I showed that I was the best — I know, I can, I'm able. But at the same time, I wasn't a know-it-all who had to be involved in everything. Those who understood what it meant to be friends with a Malfoy tried to establish contact with me. Those who wanted to show that they were also worth something tried to argue, make sarcastic remarks, or even demonstrate their strength. But I was somewhat indifferent to it, and because of that, they were also drawn to me. Sometimes I felt stupid competing with children, but considering that in ten or twenty years these people would be leading magical Britain? Right, not so stupid anymore.
Those who sensed confidence in me were simply drawn to me. They're children, but you can still feel this natural adaptability and innate cunning. They weren't friends, more like acquaintances. But if you don't push them away, over time they can become good support. And although in case of extreme need, I would be ready to sacrifice my best pieces — the ones like friends — without a twinge of conscience, chess is a cruel game.
However, it wasn't just around me that people gathered; it was the same in other houses, not to mention other years. And among the Slytherin first-years, some clustered into separate groups with obvious or not-so-obvious leaders. But this is a normal situation in any closed group; the same thing happens in kindergarten, regular school, university, the army, and at work. Everywhere, a person emerges who can speak for those who don't particularly strive for it or cannot strive for it. For example, Yaxley, who gathered a few easily-led guys around himself, or Blackmore, who didn't actively gather people himself, but others were drawn to him because of his character and firm stance. And the girls, as expected, were gathered around Amanda Rosier and her friends, but they had their own separate thing going on, and there were no open conflicts.
Although, I'm lying. Knox was trying to compete with her, and she was doing quite well. So, the situation was one where several people were purposefully gathering people around themselves and simultaneously trying to undermine the reputation of their rivals in this endeavor. And separate from all this were small groups like Blackmore's.
Of course, the others did this more intuitively, not planning several steps ahead, but this was precisely what hindered me on the path to absolute dominance in my year. This would change soon, and in the end, there would be one clear leader among the boys and one among the girls. And then, over the subsequent 7 years, leaders would be challenged, or people would accept it — which is unlikely.