As the bell echoed through the classroom, Charms class came to an end. Professor Flitwick awarded Ravenclaw ten points on the spot, moved by Alex Gunter's dazzling performance.
Students began filing out in pairs and small clusters, their chatter trailing into the corridors beyond. But Alex stayed behind.
He had questions.
When the classroom was finally empty, Flitwick turned with mild surprise.
"Mr. Gunter, is there something I can help you with?"
"Yes, Professor," Alex replied. "I had a few questions about Charms that I hoped you could help me with."
"Of course! Come with me to my office."
...
Flitwick's office was larger than expected. The walls were completely hidden behind towering bookshelves, stacked floor to ceiling. Each shelf was crammed with books — and not the kind you'd find in Flourish and Blotts. Many of them bore no publisher's mark at all.
Alex could sense it immediately: this was a library built by a true master of the craft.
The professor settled into his cushioned chair and gestured to the seat across from him. Alex took it without hesitation.
"Tea, Mr. Gunter?"
"Red tea, no sugar. Thank you."
Alex had always had a fondness for tea. But English tea doused in sugar? That was an abomination. Did these people have to sweeten everything?
"An excellent choice," Flitwick nodded with a knowing smile.
With a flick of his wand, a beautiful porcelain tea set materialized mid-air. The cups and teapot floated on their own, pouring and serving with delicate precision.
"Wonderful application of the Levitation Charm, Professor."
"Why thank you," Flitwick said, chuckling softly. "Now then, Mr. Gunter — your question?"
Alex nodded, straightening his back.
"Professor, I think I have some natural aptitude for Charms. Before term started, I already studied most of the spells in The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One."
He paused, then continued, a little more cautiously.
"But I've hit a wall. I've been trying to master silent casting and wandless casting… and I haven't made much progress. I thought with enough practice, I'd get somewhere, but—"
He shook his head. "Silent casting works sometimes. Wandless? Not even once."
Flitwick leaned forward, intrigued. "Would you mind giving me a little demonstration of your current capabilities, Mr. Gunter?"
Without a word, Alex raised his wand.
With a smooth flourish, he levitated the teapot, refilled the professor's cup with perfect control, then made the pot vanish into thin air with a soft pop.
A moment later, he cast the counterspell — and the teapot returned to the table, untouched, steaming faintly.
Clap clap clap.
Applause broke out across the desk. Flitwick was practically beaming.
"Marvelous! Absolutely splendid, Mr. Gunter! If you had done that during class, I would've given you twenty points—no, fifty! Ravenclaw hasn't seen talent like yours in a long, long time!"
The professor dabbed at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief, misty-eyed once again. Alex tried not to squirm.
After a few quiet moments, Flitwick regained his composure. His fingers drummed lightly on the table.
Then he looked up.
"Mr. Gunter, tell me — why do you think wizards need wands and incantations to cast spells?"
Alex blinked.
He hadn't expected that.
Still, he leaned back in his chair and considered the question carefully. After some thought, he answered.
"I think… spells require focus. Reciting an incantation channels our concentration. The wand, combined with the right gestures, activates and directs the magic inside us. When we align those elements, the magic flows properly."
Flitwick nodded, pleased.
"A very good answer. You're already thinking at the level of someone preparing for their O.W.L.s."
He paused again — then smiled gently.
"But you're missing something. Something that many witches and wizards never think to consider."
He tapped a finger to his temple.
"Willpower."
Alex blinked. "Willpower?"
"Yes," Flitwick said. "When you speak an incantation, you aren't just focusing your mind. You're embedding your will into the words. That's what makes magic real. That's why we are wizards. We believe something can be done — and through magic, it becomes so."
He sipped his tea slowly, letting the thought sink in.
"When you attempt silent casting, your intent must be even more concentrated. You are replacing spoken command with pure willpower. If your intent wavers, the spell will fail."
He set his cup down.
"The trade-off is this: silent spells are subtler, but slightly weaker. You give up a measure of force for the sake of stealth or speed."
Alex mulled that over.
The gears in his head were turning now.
He didn't speak, just raised his wand again — and focused.
He pointed to the quill resting on the desk. With a flash of intention — not words — the feather lifted gently into the air.
But the second his focus slipped, it drifted back down again.
Still, Flitwick was already grinning.
"Marvelous, Mr. Gunter! You've already begun to grasp the concept. For someone your age, that's remarkable."
He leaned back, pride gleaming in his eyes.
"For six years, Slytherin has claimed the House Cup. Ravenclaw, while we prize knowledge, has always treated such competitions as secondary."
"But I'll admit it — I've longed to see us win, even once. And with you here, I think we just might."
Alex met his gaze and offered a small smile. "Thank you, Professor. I wouldn't have gotten this far without your help."
He hesitated for a moment, then pressed forward.
"And wandless casting? Is that just… even stronger willpower?"
"Indeed," Flitwick replied. "But more than that, you must understand magic on a deeper level. Magic without a wand requires a true resonance with the forces you're commanding."
He steepled his fingers.
"In your third year, I highly recommend you take Ancient Runes. It will help you understand the foundational logic behind spells — and the languages of power that shaped them."
"Ancient Runes… got it," Alex said, already making a mental note.
He stood up and bowed slightly. "Thank you for everything today."
Flitwick smiled kindly and gave a slight nod in return.
"My door is always open to you, Mr. Gunter."
With that, Alex turned and left the office, his thoughts full of fire.
...And somewhere deep inside, that fire began to shift — to shape — to awaken.
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