"The most important parts of the Levitation Charm are the incantation and the wand motion?"
"Remember to put a little thought into it."
The most important parts... are the incantation and the wand motion?
Put a little thought into it...
Richie chewed on Professor Flitwick's words.
If the incantation and the wand motion were that important, did that mean they couldn't just be substituted out?
Was it possible that consciousness, emotion, the incantation, and the wand motion were all essential elements for casting magic? They weren't mutually exclusive or interchangeable—they were meant to coexist.
It was just that under certain conditions, you could sort of "fake" a substitution or omit them. But the tradeoff was an incomplete manifestation of the spell.
Take the Levitation Charm, for example.
Using only the incantation and the wand motion, the feather could only float upward. But when he used only his active consciousness and emotion, the feather could float and orbit, but it couldn't spin in place.
So, following the process of elimination... what if he put them all together?
"Richie... Richie?"
Terry stared in confusion at his roommate, who had suddenly frozen mid-sentence. He was just debating whether to give him a shove when Richie suddenly snapped back to life.
Looking dead serious, Richie raised his wand, executed a textbook-perfect swish and flick, and clearly enunciated:
"Wingardium Leviosa."
At the exact same time, he focused his intent.
Under Terry's watchful eyes, the feather on the desk slowly lifted into the air. But it didn't stop there. The feather began to steadily spin in place, and then—while still spinning—it started tracing wide circles through the air!
"Merlin's beard. Richie, you're literally possessed by Madam Ravenclaw..." Terry muttered, totally dumbfounded.
"Oh, what do we have here?!" Professor Flitwick squeaked from the front of the room. "A feather performing Swan Lake! Take three points for Ravenclaw! Beautifully done, Mr. Harland!"
Hearing the praise, Richie smiled faintly.
So that was it. He'd been stuck in a massive mental blind spot!
You couldn't just treat the incantation and wand movements as simple, interchangeable variables. They served multiple purposes—far more than he'd originally given them credit for. That was exactly why the textbooks started with them.
And the presence of consciousness and emotion? Their underlying depth and importance were probably far greater than he had imagined, too.
You couldn't just casually discard or swap these elements around. Even though he felt a bit like he'd taken the long, painful way around just because he was rushing for results, he had finally figured it out.
The thrill of uncovering the mechanics of magic was absolutely incredible.
The dancing feather reflected brightly in Richie's eyes.
So... what about the brain-flick?
By the end of the first Charms class, five out of the twenty first-years had successfully cast the Levitation Charm. Three were from Ravenclaw, and two were from Hufflepuff.
After urging the students to practice diligently outside of class, Professor Flitwick dismissed them. The young wizards filed out of the room, chattering excitedly as they headed for Transfiguration.
They had a fifteen-minute passing period between their first and second classes. By the time they navigated the castle to their new classroom, most of that time was gone. Hogwarts was suddenly bustling, the corridors packed with students rushing to their next lessons.
Richie and his crew arrived at the Transfiguration classroom on the ground floor. Ravenclaw was paired up with Hufflepuff again for this block.
When the bell rang, the group of Ravenclaw kids who had clustered around Richie finally scattered back to their own desks.
Kids had a very simple way of showing they liked someone: they just crowded around and talked to them. Between last night and this morning, Richie had easily proven himself as the most prominent and talented first-year in Ravenclaw. Naturally, everyone wanted to rub elbows with him.
Not long after everyone settled down, the tabby cat sitting on the teacher's desk suddenly leaped forward. Mid-air, to the collective gasps of the first-years, it shifted seamlessly into human form.
"Professor McGonagall?!"
"Oh my god, that's unbelievable!"
"I almost went up and pet it just a second ago!"
Professor McGonagall swept her gaze across the room. Seeing that all the seats were filled, she gave a curt, satisfied nod.
"Excellent. No one is late, and it appears everyone has brought their textbooks. Before we officially begin, I have a few warnings for you all."
Her expression was deadly serious.
"There will be absolutely no foolishness or disruptions in my classroom. Anyone caught doing anything unrelated to the lesson will be immediately expelled from my class!"
"Furthermore, I want you all to understand that Transfiguration is not some simple parlor trick. It is complex—complex enough to be an entire academic discipline. And it is dangerous. It is the number one reason students end up in the hospital wing!"
"People have vanished their own arms. They've turned themselves into half-fish and nearly suffocated. Someone once conjured a rhinoceros and almost crushed their classmates to death..."
"Therefore!" McGonagall rapped her knuckles against the chalkboard. "I expect you to avoid making such idiotic mistakes!"
"Class begins now. The first half will be theory, the second half practical application. Please open your books to Chapter One, Section One: The Three Fundamental Laws of Transfiguration! Pick up your quills and take notes. This will directly impact your practical exercises and your homework!"
Professor McGonagall was clearly a lot stricter than Professor Flitwick. The first-years didn't even dare to breathe too loudly. They flipped their books open and frantically started scribbling notes.
"Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration: You cannot conjure good food, gold, or true love out of thin air!"
"..."
The rules and caveats of Transfiguration were incredibly dense. By the time McGonagall wrapped up the theory portion, Richie had filled two entire pages with notes.
And he had already studied this material at home. The fact that there was still this much to write down was honestly mind-numbing.
But it also made Richie respect McGonagall even more. You really needed a professional to teach the hard stuff. Listening to her lecture, he immediately realized how many things he had misunderstood or completely overlooked during his self-study. She highlighted several crucial concepts that he had totally brushed past.
Any lingering arrogance Richie might have felt completely evaporated. He knuckled down and focused harder.
"We will now move on to practical application."
"Each of you will receive a single matchstick. Your task is to turn it into a silver needle."
As soon as the matches were handed out, the kids eagerly got to work.
"Vera Verto!"
"Turn into a needle!"
"Change, change, change!"
Various incantations (and desperate pleas) echoed around the room.
Richie stared at the match in front of him and smiled confidently. Transfiguration was the branch of magic that relied most heavily on consciousness and imagination. For the other kids, it was going to be a nightmare to learn. Their minds were too scattered, too full of random thoughts. They couldn't focus their intent sharply enough.
But for Richie? It was basically a walk in the park.
"Vera Verto!"
Richie raised his wand and pointed it squarely at the match.
A second later, the matchstick's shape began to warp. The round wooden head flattened out into the eye of a needle, while the opposite end stretched and sharpened into a fine point. The dull, woody yellow smoothly shifted into a brilliant metallic silver.
Richie lowered his wand, picked up the silver needle, and gave it a light flick with his fingernail.
Ping~
Yep. The match had completely turned into a silver needle.
Richie smiled.
"Whoa, Richie, you did it again!" Terry blurted out in amazement, instantly drawing the attention of the surrounding kids.
"Ah, classic Richie!"
"That's insane. It's only been five minutes!"
"Why hasn't mine changed at all...?"
Hearing the commotion, Professor McGonagall strode over to Richie's desk.
"May I see that, Mr. Harland?"
Richie obediently handed over the silver needle.
"Excellent Transfiguration work. Take two points for Ravenclaw." McGonagall nodded approvingly.
However, as her eyes landed on Richie's fluffy, buttery-blonde hair, a strange, instinctual itch flared up inside her. It was almost like some feline impulse was begging her to reach out and pet it.
She actually started to reach her hand out, but caught herself midway. Her expression shifted slightly, and she quickly pulled her hand back, averting her eyes.
"Ahem. Mr. Harland, you may now attempt to add some intricate patterns to your needle. Or, if you feel comfortable doing so, you may offer some guidance to your classmates."
With that, Professor McGonagall practically power-walked back to the podium.
"Richie~"
"Please help me!"
Before Richie could even process what had just happened, Terry had already leaned over. The rest of the nearby kids immediately craned their necks, desperate for his advice.
"Alright, alright."
"But you guys should really try it yourselves a bit longer first. If it really isn't working, then I'll..."