After retreating from the high-energy chaos of the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, Albert made his way to the relative peace of the Gryffindor common room. He ignored the handful of students playing a frantic game of Exploding Snap and instead headed for a quiet corner near the fire. He quickly brewed a strong cup of milk tea, the rich aroma providing a comforting contrast to the stale, cold air of the dungeons he'd just escaped.
He made one last, weary attempt to engage his roommates. "One last chance, gentlemen. Charms essay. Library. Academic productivity."
"No, thank you," Fred declined, not looking up from his game. "The world requires a brief period of spontaneous chaos before it can handle a quill."
"I'm currently engaged in a deep study of the physics of combustion," George added, narrowly avoiding a card explosion. "That can hardly be described as procrastination."
"I'll catch up later," Lee Jordan promised vaguely, already engrossed in sketching what appeared to be a complex strategy for an upcoming Quidditch match—a strategy that involved an improbable amount of hidden Bludgers.
Albert simply shrugged. He packed his bag—not with unnecessary distractions, but with the necessary tools: his cleanest parchment, his best self-inking quill, and his recently acquired compendium of magical history.
The Library, during class hours on a Friday afternoon, was less a place of study and more a tranquil, echoing sanctuary. Albert's footsteps barely registered on the polished stone floor. He spotted Shanna immediately. She was perched at a large, oak table, surrounded by a depressing number of large, intimidating tomes. Her brow was furrowed in concentration—or perhaps, frustration.
Albert gently pulled out a chair and slid into the seat, his voice a low, deferential whisper suitable for the great room. "Am I too late, or have you already located the mythical inventor of Lumos?" he asked, checking his watch. It was precisely two o'clock.
Shanna groaned, pushing a particularly dusty volume away. "You're perfectly on time, Albert, but I've hit a wall. The Charms paper is proving to be a nightmare of obscure facts. I've been here half an hour, and all I've found are conflicting theories on wand wood conductivity. Nothing about the history of the Wand-Lighting Charm."
Albert surveyed the haphazard stack of books she'd gathered—a chaotic mix of advanced Transfiguration theory and ancient rune translation. He shook his head.
"You're searching too broadly," Albert explained calmly, already pinpointing the logical fault in her method. "The Wand-Lighting Charm is a cornerstone first-year spell; it must be recorded in a foundational text, not some obscure journal. We need a compendium of spell achievements, and given it's a basic charm, its invention predates the 19th century."
He didn't search randomly. He rose, walked directly to Area C, Row Five, and pulled out two specific volumes with an unnerving confidence: 'Achievements of Charms' and 'A Selection of Eighteenth-Century Spells.'
He returned, placing the two books in front of Shanna. The young witch stared first at the perfectly titled texts, then at Albert, completely astonished.
"How do you do that?" she demanded, lowering her voice to a furious whisper. "I wasted thirty minutes in the entire historical section, and you just walk up and grab the exact two books we need! It's infuriating!"
Albert allowed a faint smile to cross his face. "It's not magic, Shanna. It's categorization. The 'Achievements of Charms' contains concise histories for nearly every common spell—it's essentially a required study guide for written exams. And since Lumos is elementary, I reasoned it must be an older, foundational spell. We look to the 18th Century selections, not the 19th."
"You should have been a Ravenclaw," Shanna grumbled, but she was already excitedly flipping through the pages.
Once the books were open, the paper practically wrote itself—or, rather, it wrote itself through Albert's practiced hand. The research revealed the key historical data: the Wand-Lighting Charm (Lumos) was indeed invented in the 18th century (1772) by a clever witch named Levina Monkstanley, a Keeper of the Unspoken Order, no less, within the Ministry of Magic's secretive Department of Mysteries.
The official story, which Albert diligently transcribed, was wonderfully absurd: Levina had accidentally lit the end of her wand while frantically searching for a lost quill in a dark, dusty corner, prompting awe and immediate transcription from her colleagues.
"It's just a collection of transcribed nonsense," Shanna commented, reading over his shoulder.
"Nonsense, perhaps, but it's cited nonsense," Albert countered, his quill moving with swift, professional strokes. He felt a sudden, sharp wave of longing for the Muggle world's technology. If only I had a computer right now. A simple 'Ctrl+C' and 'Ctrl+V' would save me an hour of agonizing hand cramps. He even paused for a moment, having written the wrong word while distracted by the thought of digital efficiency, and had to scratch out the error with a frustrated tsk.
He quickly returned to the task. Albert wasn't just copying; he was employing a technique he termed "Academic Synthesis"—a high-level form of reference and quotation. The essay's structure became apparent:
Historical Introduction: The necessary biographical details of Levina Monkstanley (copied from the book).
Practical Application (The Core): A detailed account of his own practice sessions, focusing on the various frustrating problems he encountered (e.g., inconsistent brightness, residual glow, premature extinguishment) and the self-researched solutions he discovered. This section was all original observation.
Theoretical Expansion (The Hook): The ambitious conclusion designed purely to impress Professor Flitwick.
Albert transitioned from detailing the basic Lumos to the complementary Extinguishing Charm (Nox). He found the relevant counter-charm information in a different volume, then began to weave his original ideas into the essay, transforming a mandatory assignment into a subtle research proposal.
He wrote about his exploration into the concept of Volatile Light Storage. If Nox could extinguish the light from a wand, could it be used to contain or control the light generated by Lumos?
This led directly into his bold speculation: the creation of a Magic Lamp.
...This leads to my final, ambitious prospect regarding the utility of the Charms. The common wizard relies on inefficient, dangerous, and smoke-producing oil lamps. Muggle civilization, through the study of electricity, has developed the electric lamp—a light source that is clean, instant, and contained. I submit that the combination of the Wand-Lighting Charm and the Extinguishing Charm, when applied to a permanent, enchanted vessel, possesses the theoretical capability to create an analogous Magic Lamp.
This device would allow a wizard to instantly command a bright, contained, and persistent light source without the need for constant verbal incantations or the hazardous nature of open flame. The Lumos Charm would power the initial charge, and a modified, delayed Nox Charm, built into the device's enchantment framework, would serve as the 'off' switch, responding to non-verbal cues. This endeavor, if successful, would revolutionize illumination within the wizarding world...
By the time he finished, his parchment was covered in neat, dense script, significantly exceeding the minimum length required by Professor Flitwick. It was less a homework paper and more a fully articulated academic argument.
Shanna, who was still trying to structure her own brief notes, stared at Albert's finished work with profound dismay.
"You… you just wrote a formal research proposal," Shanna stammered, pointing at the densely filled parchment. "I haven't even finished the introduction yet, and yours looks like it's ready for a scholarly journal!"
"Would you like to review it?" Albert offered, sliding the parchment across to her. He was already thinking ahead, flipping the book to the Extinguishing Charm section.
Shanna read through his treatise—the concise history, the systematic problem-solving, and the genuinely innovative proposal for the Magic Lamp. A deep sense of inadequacy washed over her, immediately followed by a powerful sense of clarity.
"It turns out that a paper can be written like this," she realized, the frustration melting away into genuine admiration. She finally understood the purpose of "reference and quotation." Albert hadn't just copied; he had used the established facts as the launchpad for his own critical thinking.
The sheer volume of content—the history, the practical solutions, and the speculative conclusion—guaranteed he met the length requirement, but more importantly, it demonstrated a comprehensive, applied understanding of the charms.
Albert glanced at Shanna's overwhelmed expression and took pity on her. He waited for the ink on his parchment to thoroughly dry.
"Here," Albert said. He retrieved his quill and carefully cast a simple, low-level duplicating spell he had recently learned. It was a minor, unapproved charm, but perfectly safe and incredibly efficient for their current need. He created a clean, identical copy of his paper.
"This is a gift," he whispered, handing her the duplicate. "I want you to use this not as a thing to be copied, but as a structural guide. See how I used the history as a one-paragraph introduction, and then dedicated the bulk of the essay to the problems I encountered during practice? Your own paper will be far more effective if you replace my solutions with your own experiences practicing Lumos."
"This… this is more than just helping," Shanna murmured, holding the fresh parchment with reverence.
"It's collaboration," Albert corrected. "By starting with a robust framework, you save yourself the agony of structure. You now have the necessary citations, the format, and the conceptual blueprint. You just need to infuse it with your own efforts."
Shanna looked down at the paper, then back at Albert, a newfound focus in her eyes. It was a profound lesson in how to be an effective student: Research first, structure second, originality third.
"You know," Shanna said thoughtfully, picking up her quill, "I thought writing this paper was just about meeting a three-inch quota. But after reading your structure, and the things you pulled from the books... I feel like I actually understand the Lumos Charm better than I did when I first cast it."
Albert nodded, satisfied. That was the hidden purpose. "The homework isn't the goal, Shanna. The deepened understanding is. And getting an Outstanding grade from Professor Flitwick is just a welcome side effect."
He knew that the Magic Lamp concept—the real innovation hidden within his essay—was the key to catching Professor Flitwick's eye and potentially gaining a mentor in the Charms department. The submission wasn't just homework; it was the next step in his ongoing mission to bridge the gap between Muggle technology and the inherent potential of magic.