After a while, Charles began to feel a deep sense of vertigo, his head spinning as he asked again, "Is it not time yet? It feels like an eternity has passed."
"Thirty more seconds. I've been watching the clock; don't lose your nerve at the finish line." By now, thirteen minutes had passed. Alan could see that Charles had reached his absolute limit.
Charles gritted his teeth for another minute, but the strain was too much; his knees began to buckle and he swayed dangerously.
Alan continued to drive him forward. "Last ten seconds, give me everything you have!"
Hearing this, Charles squeezed the final dregs of magic from his core. He counted the ten seconds in his head, his vision blurring, until his magic finally ran dry. His body went limp, and as he began to collapse, the heavy basin of water started to tip. It looked as though Charles was about to be thoroughly drenched.
In a smooth motion, Alan flicked his hand. The basin was instantly stabilized by a silent charm, and Alan stepped forward to catch Charles before he hit the floor.
"Alright, sit down and have some water." Alan helped him into a chair and handed him a glass.
Charles felt hollow. Since starting at Hogwarts, he had never experienced the total exhaustion of his magical reserves. Right now, he didn't even have the strength to lift his wand. He downed the water in several gulps, letting out a long, ragged sigh. He felt as though life were slowly returning to his limbs, even if he still felt weak.
"Focus on how your body feels right now. This state is crucial," Alan instructed. "I'll get you something to eat. When you replenish your energy after a total drain, your body works harder to restore your reserves, gradually increasing your overall capacity."
Charles nodded, trying to analyze the sensation. It felt as if he were a balloon that had been entirely deflated. However, he could feel his body beginning to slowly "secrete" a strange warmth—his magic returning.
When a pipe is full of water, it feels like a solid unit; you can't distinguish the liquid from the container. But when the pipe is empty and water begins to trickle back in, you can feel the exact path of the flow. Charles was experiencing this heightened awareness now. This forced depletion was training his magical perception—his sensitivity—far more effectively than any lecture.
*If I can help Charles improve his sensitivity through this method,* Alan thought, *the Charms Club research will finally have its first set of valuable data.*
He suspected Professor Flitwick had been hinting at this kind of experimentation from the beginning. The Professor was likely eager for a breakthrough in sensitivity training, and Charles might just be the unwitting key to that discovery.
Alan brought over a blueberry pie Hagrid had baked earlier. "How is it? Do you notice any difference?"
Charles took a large bite, his body craving the sugar after the exertion. "It's working," he mumbled around a mouthful of pie. "I can actually feel the magic slowly coming back."
"Remember that feeling; you'll be experiencing it often," Alan said with a teasing smirk.
Charles swallowed hard. The sensation of being completely drained was unnerving. "Do you actually put yourself through this?"
"I've been doing this since I was seven. I still do it every night before bed. It's most effective at the start; eventually, you just learn exactly where your limits are," Alan replied.
"Seven? Merlin's beard, Alan. How did you survive that kind of pain as a kid?" Charles stared at him in disbelief.
"To gain something, you have to give something up, right?" Alan said indifferently.
Alan let Charles recover in the cabin for a while, and they eventually shared dinner with Hagrid. The half-giant took an immediate liking to the Gryffindor boy, and Charles, in turn, was full of praise for Alan's cooking. After the meal, Alan walked Charles back to the castle, as he had his own evening lesson with Professor Bones.
"Today, I'll introduce you to some alchemical materials," Professor Bones said as Alan entered his office. The large table was covered in various specimens, organized into wood, metal, and leather.
Alan scanned the array of items, touching them to gauge their textures. He stopped at one particular metal that felt remarkably familiar—it was strikingly similar to the amulet Lily had given him.
Bones noticed him lingering over the copper-colored material. "Since that caught your eye, we'll start with the metals."
"That is Paracelsus brass," he explained. "Named after the legendary alchemist Paracelsus, it's a staple in the craft. Beginners use it for practice because it's exceptionally stable, has a decent capacity for energy storage, and isn't prohibitively expensive."
So, it was a practice material. It made sense; Lily hadn't been exaggerating when she said she'd made his amulet as a casual project.
"Invented?" Alan asked, catching her choice of words.
"Exactly. In both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, there are only so many naturally occurring elements. There are no 'natural' magical metals. Alchemical metals are alloys—wizards take base metals and fuse them with others, infusing them with magic during the process or adding components from magical creatures."
he continued, "The properties change based on the formula. While the base metals might be common, the specific alloy recipes are often guarded secrets. Paracelsus brass has a public formula, which is why it's so widely available."
Bones then picked up a silver candelabra and showed it to him. "This is Iser mithril, or 'Goblin mithril.' The formula is a secret guarded fiercely by the goblins. Most of their famous silverwork is made from this. It has incredible conductivity and stability. However, it's quite soft. Alchemists usually use it for delicate accessories or mix it with other alloys to improve their magical flow."
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