Professor Flitwick, a master educator with decades of experience, knew the limits of a first-year student's attention span. After dedicating enough time to the dry theory of incantations and wand composition, he smartly transitioned to practical magic. The first spell the freshmen would attempt was the Lumos Charm (The Lighting Charm).
"The Lumos Charm is one of the most magnificent, yet simple, pieces of magic invented in the eighteenth century," the tiny professor squeaked, his voice amplified to fill the large classroom. "It is perhaps the most practical and straightforward of all introductory Charms. A fundamental piece of a wizard's arsenal."
Flitwick positioned himself on his pile of books, grasping his wand with expert precision. "Now, I need you all to repeat the incantation after me. Listen closely to the exact sound and cadence. Are we ready? Lumos!" he articulated, drawing out the vowel sound.
"Lumos!" the class dutifully chanted back, the room filling with the earnest, slightly chaotic sounds of eighty-odd voices.
"Excellent!" Flitwick clapped his hands excitedly. "Now, this is the wand movement: a simple, neat, circular twist of the wrist, followed by a light tap on the object—in this case, your desk—and then you project the incantation with focus!" He demonstrated the action flawlessly, and the tip of his wand glowed with a steady, brilliant white light that illuminated his cheerful face. "Remember, the wand movement, the correct pronunciation, and the magical intent. They must all be perfectly synchronized. Now, why not give it a try?"
The classroom immediately erupted into a cacophony of muttered incantations and flailing wands.
Albert, having mastered this spell months ago, adopted the look of intense concentration typical of a highly motivated student. He focused on ensuring his motions were slightly clumsy and his light was fleeting, pretending to grapple with the challenge.
"Lee! A sharper snap of the wrist, not a gentle wave! You're not saying goodbye!" Professor Flitwick called out encouragingly.
Albert gave his wand a careful, deliberate tap, whispered "Lumos," and allowed the tip to glow for a second before letting it fade naturally. He was attempting to blend in, but he was instantly betrayed.
"Look, everyone, Mr. Anderson has done it! He's mastered the spell!" Professor Flitwick shouted, beaming with pride. "Splendid work, five points to Gryffindor!"
Albert felt a sudden, profound discomfort under the collective gaze of the entire class. He turned his head and gave Lee Jordan, who was enthusiastically smacking his shoulder and nodding vigorously, a severe, silent glare.
Many students managed to produce a faint glow—a feeble, brief spark—but few could sustain it.
The twins and Lee Jordan were all still struggling mightily. Lee's wand emitted a dull pop and a few sparks that immediately died, leaving him looking dejected. The twins merely looked like they were trying to conduct an invisible, frustrating orchestra. Even Cedric Diggory, the earnest Hufflepuff, only managed a fleeting glimmer before his wand went dark.
The class, however, was not without minor disaster. A particularly clumsy Hufflepuff boy in the middle row, rather than tapping his desk, swung his wand hard and dramatically. Instead of light, a small, sudden burst of yellow flame shot out, licking the backside of the robe belonging to the unlucky student sitting directly in front of him.
"Flicker! Reducto!" Flitwick squeaked, the fire instantly dissipating with a wave of his wand. The smell of slightly singed wool hung in the air.
The boy was given a stern look and assigned a punitive task: to copy the line, "I am a wizard, not a baboon waving a stick," one hundred times on a sheet of parchment.
Shanna Wilson, the Muggle-born girl Albert had walked with, was also struggling. She tried several times with increasing desperation, only to have her wand emit thick, acrid black smoke that smelled of burnt matches. Professor Flitwick had to use a specific charm to whisk the choking cloud out of the open window.
"I can't seem to learn it at all," Shanna murmured to a neighbor, looking utterly disheartened.
"Don't worry, my dear," Professor Flitwick said, floating over to comfort the frustrated students. "Everyone still has plenty of time to master this magic. You simply need to maintain your composure, relax the mind, and focus your intent."
Before the end of the lesson, Flitwick assigned their first homework. "Your task for the week is simple: practice the Lumos Charm. Next class, we will review this spell, and then move on to its counter-charm, Nox."
For Albert, of course, the homework was already complete.
As the class began to file out, Albert deliberately lagged behind. He wanted to use the opportunity of the empty classroom to discuss a piece of practical magic that had been on his mind for days: how to conjure an umbrella.
"Mr. Anderson," Professor Flitwick greeted him warmly, already tidying the desk with a flick of his wrist. "Your casting spell was remarkably strong for a first attempt. You have a great aptitude for Charms."
"Thank you, Professor Flitwick," Albert accepted the compliment gracefully. "But I actually wanted to ask you about a different kind of magic, if you have a moment."
"Certainly! What is it?"
"How would I go about making an umbrella appear from my wand?" Albert posed the question, his gaze earnest.
Professor Flitwick blinked, adjusting his tiny glasses. "Conjure an umbrella?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "Why, specifically, an umbrella?"
"Ahem, well, it's been raining so much these past two days," Albert explained with an air of practical gravity. "I was thinking at the time that if I could simply conjure an umbrella on demand, I would never have to worry about getting wet or losing it in the changing rooms!"
Flitwick burst into a peel of surprising, high-pitched laughter. Some wizards truly sought magic only to solve the most mundane inconveniences, and Mr. Anderson clearly fell into this category.
"A wonderfully practical idea, Mr. Anderson," Flitwick acknowledged. "But tell me, what is a Charm?"
"A charm," Albert recited, pulling from his newly-minted notes, "is a spell that adds specific properties to an object or creature, or temporarily alters an object's appearance or behavior without fundamentally changing it."
"Precisely!" Flitwick beamed. "And what does the magic you're asking about do?"
"It would make the umbrella appear out of my wand, seemingly from nowhere," Albert concluded, realizing his own mistake. "Which means... it's not a Charm, because I'm creating or moving a fundamental object."
"Correct. What you're describing—conjuring an umbrella from a wand—is a branch of magic called Transfiguration," Flitwick explained. "Specifically, it falls under the concept of Summoning."
Flitwick raised his wand again and, with a complex swish and a gentle incantation Albert didn't quite catch, conjured a perfect, vibrant red rose out of thin air onto the desk.
"This is Summoning magic," Flitwick said, handing the flower to Albert. "A common misconception is that this spell creates something from nothing. It does not. No one can truly create something out of nothing. I simply used a spell to summon this rose from a distance, perhaps from the Head Gardener's shed, or a nearby greenhouse."
"Ah, I think I understand," Albert said, examining the velvety petals. "It's like the Banishing Charm—it doesn't truly vanish the object; it just moves it away, out of our sight."
"Yes! It seems you've studied your textbook diligently, Mr. Anderson. Very good," Flitwick said happily. "Summoning Charms (Accio) are OWL-level knowledge, and the full Transfiguration Conjuration, like this rose, is far more advanced. If you wish to pursue this, I suggest you consult Professor McGonagall. She is the Head of Transfiguration and will be delighted by your curiosity." He then gestured towards the door. "Now, I see your friends waiting. You all have History of Magic next, don't be late."
"Professor, I have just one more question," Albert pressed quickly.
Flitwick paused, resting his hands on the desk. "Go on, Mr. Anderson."
"Can we store the light source of the Lumos Charm?" Albert asked, suddenly hitting on the core concept. "I mean, can we charge a small container with the light, and then use it when we're not actively casting the spell or holding the wand?"
Flitwick was visibly taken aback. He rubbed his small chin thoughtfully. "That is a profoundly interesting idea. From a theoretical standpoint, yes, it should be possible. The concentration of magical light energy into a non-magical, or passively enchanted, vessel..." He trailed off. "But it would be very difficult for a first-year. It involves advanced containment and release Charms."
"I was curious because in the Muggle world, we have something called a 'flashlight,'" Albert explained. "It's like a perpetual Glowing Charm you can turn on or off at will."
As he spoke the word 'flashlight,' a familiar, quiet pulse vibrated through his perception, a private, instantaneous alert that only he could feel. He momentarily lost his train of thought as the Panel updated.
New Quest Received
Inventor of the Magic Lamp
As a young mind bridging the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, you have accidentally conceived of a revolutionary magical item: a sustainable, non-wand activated light source.
Objective: Research and create a stable, reliable Magic Lamp (a device capable of storing and releasing the light of the Lumos Charm at will).
Reward: 3000 Experience Points, Skill Level Lumos Charm +1, Skill Level Nox Charm +1, Title: Inventor of Magic Lamp.
Albert quickly regained his composure, nodding as if the interruption were just a brief moment of thought.
"I'm curious, Mr. Anderson, what inspired this line of thought?" Flitwick asked, clearly intrigued by the connection to Muggle technology.
"Just efficiency, Professor. Carrying a wand and a lit hand is less efficient than carrying a simple, compact item," Albert finished, his mind already racing with the implications of the new quest. The reward was substantial, particularly the experience points and the skill bumps.
"Well, keep thinking like that, Mr. Anderson," Flitwick said with a final, encouraging smile. "That kind of curiosity is the key to magical progress. Now, off you go."
Albert hurried out of the classroom, where the twins and Lee Jordan pounced on him immediately.
"What did you ask Flitwick?" George demanded, clutching his textbook to his chest.
"What was the burning question? How to conjure an umbrella, of course."
"And the result?"
"Professor Flitwick said that's an OWL-level Transfiguration problem, not a Charms problem." Albert sighed dramatically. "It looks like I won't be conjuring an umbrella anytime soon."
"Ha!" Fred couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you'll have to keep carrying the Muggle one, won't you?"
Ignoring the twins' teasing, Albert subtly focused on his internal Panel, rereading the quest details. He had accidentally stumbled into a lucrative field of magical invention. His next destination was the History of Magic classroom, but his mind was already miles away, designing the schematics for the world's first Magic Lamp. The tedious lecture ahead was now a perfect opportunity for deep, uninterrupted thought.
The four of them turned the corner and headed down towards the History of Magic classroom on the second floor.