For Avada, the debate Professor Flitwick raised about the nature of magic was hardly an issue at all—he had known the answer from the very beginning. Essentialism was correct.
But that certainty came from a talent unique to him, something he could never prove to others. After all, if someone asked, "How did you verify essentialism?" he couldn't very well reply, "Oh, I saw it with my own eyes," could he?
If he really dared to say that, he'd probably be beaten half to death.
So during the Charms lesson that followed, even though he had already more or less mastered the material over the summer, Avada still listened attentively. When Flitwick handed out feathers and told everyone to practice, Avada hesitated, wondering whether he should show off by casting a flawless Levitation Charm right away.
Before he could decide, Baron—after failing several times—finally succeeded in lifting his feather, earning Slytherin five points.
Avada immediately followed suit, becoming the second student to succeed and earning Hufflepuff two points.
"Wait—didn't you succeed on your first try just now?"
Baron suddenly turned his head, staring at him in astonishment.
"Ahem—luck, just luck," Avada said quickly, realizing he had misjudged things and hurriedly laughed it off. Baron didn't dwell on it, instead continuing to wave his wand at the feather, growing more and more proficient with the Levitation Charm.
After watching for a moment, Avada spoke up. "You can try turning your wrist slightly outward when you flick your wand—not too much, just enough."
Baron raised an eyebrow. "The book and Professor Flitwick didn't say to do that."
"Just try it. There's no danger," Avada replied. He demonstrated, adding a subtle twist of the wrist. The feather floated steadily into the air. Seeing this, Baron nodded slightly and followed Avada's advice, gently rotating his wrist as he recited the incantation.
"—Huh?!"
As the spell took effect and the feather rose, a flash of surprise crossed Baron's eyes.
"What's going on? It suddenly feels way easier to maintain the spell!" he whispered in amazement. "How did you figure this out?"
"I just experimented a bit during the holidays," Avada replied without batting an eye.
In truth, this was the effect of his Magical Perception. He could observe how Baron's magic disturbed the surrounding magical flow when casting the Levitation Charm, then calculate and optimize the most efficient casting method. The only drawback was that his mind simply wasn't fast enough—optimizing even a simple spell like this required extensive observation, let alone anything more complex.
"I want to ask Professor Flitwick about this," Baron said, eyes sparkling as he looked at Avada.
"Sure."
Avada nodded. Baron immediately raised his hand and called Professor Flitwick over during his rounds, demonstrated the optimized version of the Levitation Charm, and asked for an explanation.
Flitwick, however, didn't seem surprised. "You've been rather lucky to discover an optimization technique on your own."
"The spells in textbooks are the most standard, most universally applicable templates. As a witch or wizard's skill grows and their understanding of magic deepens, they naturally develop optimizations suited to their personal style. Take the Levitation Charm, for instance—'slightly turning the wrist' reduces the cost of maintaining the spell. And if you let the wand tip droop a little during the motion, while stressing the 'di' sound in the incantation, the spell's effect can be greatly enhanced…"
He paused, then added gently, "That said, don't become obsessed with optimization. Right now, laying a solid foundation and practicing the fundamentals thoroughly is what matters most at your stage."
"Understood, Professor," Avada and Baron replied in unison, nodding.
When the bell rang, Professor Flitwick hopped back onto the stack of books he'd been standing on and clapped his hands, signaling the students to stop talking and practicing. "That'll be all for today. Those of you who haven't mastered the Levitation Charm yet, remember to keep practicing after class. If everyone can learn it within a week, I'll show you something a bit interesting as a bonus."
"There's no homework for this lesson. Class dismissed."
With that, he lightly hopped down from the platform and left the classroom first. Some students followed him out, while others stayed behind, frowning as they continued to wave their wands at unwilling feathers.
"Our next class is Herbology, with Ravenclaw," Baron said after checking his timetable. He stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and bid Avada farewell.
"Our next class is History of Magic," Avada sighed. "They say it's the most boring class of all. And can you believe it? We Hufflepuffs still have to wait until tomorrow to attend our own Head of House's lesson."
"Haha—see you later."
"Yeah, see you."
…
Professor Binns was an elderly-looking ghost, and Hogwarts' only ghost professor. Legend had it that one day, he rose from his armchair by the staffroom fire to go teach a class, accidentally leaving his body behind—and never realized he'd died.
Thanks to the nature of ghosthood, he became the only professor in the entire school capable of maintaining an inhuman, seven-days-a-week workload. His knowledge was vast and unforgetting, making him an ideal History of Magic teacher. Unfortunately, his lectures were unbearably monotonous, with an unrivaled ability to induce sleep.
Like right now.
"Very few people are able to feel the unique charm of the vast sweep of history. Most merely treat it as a collection of ordinary stories, paying attention only to the gossip and anecdotes of famous figures…"
In the first History of Magic lesson shared by Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, Professor Binns was following his usual opening routine, earnestly praising the wonders of history in an attempt to spark interest. Sadly, his flat, droning tone had exactly the opposite effect.
"Countless ordinary people together push the wheels of history forward, shaping its course and driving its changes. Now and then, a flash of genius illuminates an entirely new path… You, I, and everything around us are all part of history. To study history is to study ourselves and society, to draw lessons from the past and predict the tides of the future…"
Soft snoring began to sound around the classroom.
"Strictly speaking, our History of Magic can be divided into two parts: Wizarding History and Magical History. Wizarding History examines changes in wizarding status, the establishment and refinement of magical society, relations and conflicts with other beings, and its deep connections to Muggle history…"
The snoring blended together, rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
"Magical History, on the other hand, recounts the emergence of various spells and alchemical creations, analyzing how they drove historical progress. For instance, the first broomstick, the first Portkey, the invention of spells such as Apparition, Aguamenti, and the Shield Charm—all of these had enormous and far-reaching impacts on the development of magical society…"
In the midst of it all, Avada forced himself to stay mentally alert, the only student in the entire classroom still listening attentively. He hadn't slept well the night before, and combined with Professor Binns's hypnotic tone, staying awake felt like sheer torture.
The only consolation was that the subject itself was genuinely fascinating. Compared with what he remembered from the original books, it deepened his understanding of the wizarding world considerably.
After surviving History of Magic came Flying class with Ravenclaw. As expected, Cho Chang displayed outstanding talent, earning high praise from Madam Hooch. What surprised Avada, however, was that his roommate, Xavier Nott, also showed impressive flying skill, prompting Madam Hooch to comment that he had the potential to become a professional Quidditch player.
Avada's own flying, on the other hand, was utterly unremarkable. With the help of his Magical Perception, a single shout of "Up!" was enough to bring the broomstick into his hand—but balance, spatial awareness, and coordination, all essential elements of flight, were not his strong suit at all.
The afternoon brought Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. After she demonstrated a dazzling array of advanced techniques—turning herself into a cat and transforming the lectern into a lion, enough to make Avada dizzy just watching—the students were immediately fired up, proclaiming their determination to master Transfiguration. Moments later, they were all staring gloomily at matchsticks that stubbornly refused to become needles.
After waiting impatiently for twenty minutes, Avada finally lost patience. With a flick of his wand, he became the first student in the classroom to successfully transform a matchstick into a needle, earning Hufflepuff five points.
(End of Chapter)