Potions class usually lasted for two consecutive periods, making it the longest class of the day.
That was simply due to its nature.
Processing ingredients was tedious, and many potions required one to two hours—or even longer—to brew.
So even a double period sometimes wasn't enough.
If you messed up one batch—
there was no time to try again.
Aside from Potions, there was another troublesome class that day—
Astronomy.
To properly observe the stars, the class was held late at night.
Which seriously disrupted Lewis's sleep schedule.
The lesson took place atop the Astronomy Tower, the highest point in the castle.
The professor was Aurora Sinistra—
a dark-skinned witch who looked to be in her thirties.
Much like her subject, she had very little presence in the original story.
At first glance, Astronomy didn't seem particularly important.
But after attending the class—
Lewis realized otherwise.
Celestial bodies—
contained immense magical power.
Every star visible to the naked eye—
was a distant sun, shining across light-years.
Their energy traveled alongside starlight—
reaching Earth.
Reaching wizards.
Of course—
this power was extremely faint.
Barely enough to be sensed.
At most, it could light a candle.
But that wasn't its true purpose.
The starlight served as a connection.
A link between wizard and cosmos.
Once the connection was established—
through proper rituals—
one could draw upon the true power of the stars.
Ritual magic.
Ancient.
Powerful.
And definitely not taught at Hogwarts.
With it, even a small amount of magic—
could produce miracles.
To use celestial power—
Astronomy was essential.
Many rituals required specific conditions:
Solar eclipses.
Full moons.
Planetary alignments.
Comets.
Meteor showers.
The most typical example—
Divination.
For Lewis—
who sought to become a powerful mage—
Astronomy was indispensable.
As he observed the stars—
insight struck.
[You have comprehended the fundamentals of stargazing.]
[Your Divination specialization has improved.]
[You have learned new spells:]
Appraisal
Micro-Meteor
Appraisal allowed the user to identify all magical properties of an item—
including activation methods and remaining charges.
For pawn shops and second-hand dealers—
this ability was priceless.
Magical items were unpredictable.
Some held hidden power.
Others—
dangerous curses.
Even Dumbledore had once been injured by a cursed necklace.
With this skill—
Lewis could easily set up a stall in Diagon Alley and make a fortune.
Then—
there was Micro-Meteor.
A spell that created a tiny flaming meteor in the caster's hand.
A magical construct—
treated as a supernatural weapon.
In other worlds—
it was known as Melf's Minute Meteors.
A legendary low-tier god-slaying spell.
But here—
there was no Melf.
So if it needed a name—
it should be:
Lewis's Micro-Meteor.
On the surface—
it seemed unimpressive.
In raw damage, it couldn't compare to Fireball—
or even an Explosion Curse.
But it had one unique trait:
It could not be fully negated.
Because it was treated as a supernatural weapon—
even divine avatars couldn't completely ignore its damage.
In high-level combat—
damage numbers weren't everything.
The real challenge was overcoming defenses:
Magic immunity.
Elemental immunity.
Alignment immunity.
At that level—
battle became a contest of rules.
And Micro-Meteor broke those rules.
Even if it dealt only one point of damage—
it would always deal something.
And over time—
even gods could fall.
All in all—
the night had been fruitful.
Lewis's irritation at losing sleep faded away.
That said—
he could probably afford to sleep in the next morning.
Because the next class was—
Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Just hearing the name—
was enough to excite first-years.
Looking back at the week:
Transfiguration—too difficult.
Charms—too basic.
Herbology—interesting but exhausting.
History of Magic—perfect for naps.
Potions—universally disliked.
Which left only two exciting subjects:
Flying.
And Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Flying was basically PE.
Naturally popular.
Defense Against the Dark Arts—
was different.
It promised power.
And combat.
Children naturally longed for strength.
For victory.
But Lewis knew better.
This year's Defense class—
would be disappointing.
"Don't get your hopes up," Stephen whispered on the way.
"I heard from Hufflepuff that Professor Quirrell is barely better than Binns."
That made several students suck in a breath.
Binns—
was already rock bottom.
If Quirrell was only slightly better—
then how bad was he?
Even the least critical Hufflepuffs thought so.
That said everything.
If you want to read 60 chapters ahead of the public release, head over to: Patreon.com/RedString