Professor Slughorn, still flushed with the success of his student's impeccable work, was effusive in his generosity. He personally prepared several pristine glass vials for Anduin, corking the deep azure Calming Draught with a flourish.
"An exemplary start, my boy, truly exemplary! A remarkable flair for the precise timing required," the Professor boomed, tucking the vials into a small, padded bag and adding a hearty ten points to the Slytherin House tally. The special treatment, a clear reflection of his immediate and proprietary favour for a potential house prodigy, was noted by every student.
The official lesson over, Anduin collected his five perfectly brewed vials. He immediately offered two to Vivian, the minimal price of partnership.
"No, truly, Anduin, I can't take these," Vivian protested, a slight flush rising on her cheeks as she stepped away from the outstretched potions. "This product is entirely your achievement. I felt more like a disruptive, authoritarian onlooker than a helper. If anything, I nearly sabotaged the Sun Orchid."
"Take one, at least," Anduin insisted, pressing a single vial into her hand with unyielding calm. "You were my required partner, and by commandeering the entire process, I prevented you from attempting to brew your own. Consider it compensation for a missed learning opportunity, or perhaps just a peace offering." He offered an excuse designed to deflect her sense of indebtedness, appealing to pragmatism over courtesy.
Vivian rolled the bottle over in her palm, a wry smile touching her lips. "Ah, the ever-resourceful Anduin Wilson. You really know how to rationalize a gift." The sarcasm was light, but entirely present.
As they left the dungeon, Vivian hesitated, her expression shifting to one of mild conspiratorial appeal.
"The weekend is almost upon us. On a completely unrelated note… do you think I could borrow that Mahjong set of yours? I've taught a few of the other girls the basics, and the older Slytherins are utterly fascinated by the tiles. It promises to be a very lucrative social gathering."
She made a quick, tactile motion with her hands, mimicking the rapid, satisfying click of tiles being drawn, her eyes sparkling with competitive anticipation.
Anduin regarded her with an almost clinical assessment. A remarkably swift study in the acquisition of minor vices. His cultural export had clearly taken root, instantly becoming a fashionable, novel game among the Slytherin contingent.
He had been so consumed by his solitary magical training—holed up in his room, relentlessly practicing complex spell vectors—that the Mahjong set had been forgotten. It was an object of cultural nostalgia to him, but to Vivian, it was clearly becoming a tool for social engineering and harmless, competitive amusement.
He nodded, conceding the point with a small sigh. "I'll leave it out for you in the common room. Try not to let the game degenerate into outright wagering."
"No promises," Vivian chirped, her earlier embarrassment forgotten, already plotting tile strategy.
Returning to the relative sanctuary of his private quarters, Anduin retrieved the long-dormant set, handed it off to a waiting Vivian, and then immediately plunged back into his true focus: accelerated magical development and strategic self-analysis.
Anduin began his post-class routine by synthesizing his first week of Hogwarts instruction, meticulously categorizing each subject based on its strategic value and time investment required.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts class, run by a frail, elderly professor, was, as forewarned by the ubiquitous rumours, utterly useless. The classes were dull recitations from a decaying textbook, entirely devoid of practical application.
The historical curse laid upon the position by Voldemort created a palpable, low-level anxiety in the room—a constant reminder that their instructor was essentially designated as cannon fodder. Anduin felt a sharp, cold dread, not for the professor's safety, but for the inherent, strategic vulnerability of a school with such a laughably compromised defensive education.
It reinforced his conviction that his only reliable protection would come from self-reliance and hyper-competence.
His analysis of Transfiguration was markedly different. He had discovered a prodigious, almost innate talent for the discipline. In the very first lesson, Professor McGonagall had assigned the classic task of transforming a simple match into a complex steel needle.
Anduin had executed the transformation perfectly in just under thirty minutes, a feat that had earned Slytherin five additional house points and a rare, almost imperceptible nod of approval from the famously austere Professor.
Despite his keen interest and evident aptitude, Anduin made a difficult but necessary strategic choice: deferment. Transfiguration spells, with their highly intricate conceptual requirements and demanding physical manifestations, necessitated long, focused blocks of practice time.
He could not afford that time now. He filed Transfiguration under "Future Development," planning to dedicate himself fully to it only after achieving critical mass in his current priority discipline: Charms and Tactical Implementation.
Today's Potions lesson, however, had been an unexpected revelation. The subject married his core skillset—precision, discipline, meticulous adherence to protocol, and an acute ability to compensate for material variances—with a magical outcome. He could master potion-making at an accelerated pace, converting a mandatory class into a practical, necessary skill.
This newfound aptitude immediately dovetailed with a critical strategic imperative: financial independence.
Gringotts, the only gateway to the wider magical economy, imposed a rigid currency exchange quota: a total lifetime exchange of only 100 Galleons. This was not an annual allowance, but a hard, permanent ceiling on his access to the vast fortune Sirius had transferred to his Muggle accounts.
Relying purely on the remaining liquid funds and Sirius's generous, but finite, gift was anathema to his survival ethos. The money he had been given was already tainted; it was money that had inadvertently provoked two high-ranking Death Eaters and bought him unwanted attention from the highest echelons of the Dark Faction. He would not live off an allowance.
Therefore, Anduin resolved to transform his Potions skill into a sustainable, internal income stream. By mastering a wide array of recipes, particularly those that were practical, desirable, or difficult to brew—such as advanced health restoratives, stability draughts, or even highly precise cosmetic enhancements—he could generate the necessary Galleons to fund his increasingly demanding self-training without touching his limited exchange quota. His plan was now set: accelerate Potions mastery and establish a small, quiet enterprise.
For the rest of his curriculum—Herbology, History of Magic, and Astronomy—his goal was purely maintenance. He would dedicate the minimum necessary effort to secure passing marks, ensuring his attention remained overwhelmingly focused on his primary objectives.
Anduin's focus now concentrated almost entirely on Charms and the systematic study of Lily's Amulet—an alchemical artifact of enormous and mysterious power. He organized his training into phases, all feeding into the creation of a definitive personal tactical combat system.
Phase 1: Acquisition of Knowledge. The immediate goal was to utilize the old, heavily annotated textbooks he had acquired from the upper-year classrooms. He sought to learn and internalize the structure of every common spell from the first through seventh year curriculum.
This stage was not about perfection; it was about achieving functional casting—the ability to fully deploy the magic without systemic failure.
He would, however, judiciously skip the extremely difficult or inherently dangerous spells, such as the Spectral Spell (a cutting curse that could potentially sever the caster's own limb upon a miscast), until his foundational control reached a verifiable threshold of safety.
Phase 2: Tactical System Development. Once he had a broad lexicon of functioning spells, he would select a core group based on their utility and synergy—for offense, defense, and mobility—and train them relentlessly, engineering them into a seamless, instinctive tactical system.
To structure this development, Anduin had formulated a Four-Tiered System of Magical Mastery:
Initiatory (Beginner Level): Defined by the simple ability to cast the relevant spell successfully and reliably using incantation and wand movement. Anduin's current, initial objective for most spells was to reach this foundational level.
Adept (Mastery Level): Characterized by casting with expert precision, speed, and accuracy, even under duress. The caster must be able to instantly and correctly recite the incantation and execute the complex wand flourish without hesitation or error in difficult, high-pressure environments. This was the level of most top students in the upper years.
Instinctive (Silent and Wandless Magic): This domain was defined by the complete decoupling of the spell's execution from the physical constraints of voice and tool. Spells at this level were cast purely through mental command, focus, and magical energy projection. Anduin's innate Levitation Charm and his highly developed Obstacle Jinx were already operating at this coveted tier.
Transcendent (Unique Techniques and Superseding Power): This represented the pinnacle of Anduin's vision. A Transcendent spell was no longer a simple classroom charm; it was a unique magical technique, developed through a comprehensive, almost scientific understanding of the spell's core magical mechanics. It could unleash a level of power or an effect far surpassing the original spell's defined limitations.
Anduin used Vanessa Greengrass's unique Escape Spell—a highly modified version of a standard Disillusionment Charm—as a prime example. While Vanessa's technique was currently hovering just above the Adept level, its potential for further, unique development placed it firmly on the path to Transcendent power.
Anduin theorized he could push his own Levitation and Blocking Charms to this level by integrating physical combat maneuvers with the magical forces, but the specific methodologies remained elusive.
His parallel research goal was the continuous study of Lily's Amulet and the creation of other advanced alchemical items. He desperately needed to compensate for his current lack of raw firepower.
Creating practical, force-multiplying artifacts—such as a Duplication Amulet (capable of briefly replicating a thrown object or a small magical effect) or a highly-tuned passive defensive charm—was essential to the rapid establishment of his tactical system.
The ever-present fear of being strategically outmatched and the deep-seated loathing of surrendering control over his personal safety drove his relentless, round-the-clock training regimen.
The research topics assigned by Professor Flitwick in the Magic Club—complex analysis of magical sensitivity and advanced silent/wandless casting theory—were strategically placed on the backburner.
They were the capstone projects of his plan. He recognized that intense, focused training in a single spell would naturally lead to the Instinctive level of silent and wandless casting, making dedicated study redundant. He would only formally engage with the Club's academic research after his fundamental spell vocabulary was robustly established.
Finally, Anduin isolated the three elemental components of all magic, which must be continuously optimized: Magic Reserves, Magic Power, and Magic Precision.
His Potions plan was designed to indirectly support Reserves through improved health and focus; his relentless spell practice was aimed at maximizing Power output and minimizing energy cost; but most critically, his military training was focused entirely on achieving Precision—the surgical application of the minimum necessary force to achieve the desired, high-value tactical outcome.
This three-pronged optimization was the bedrock of his long-term plan to ensure not only survival, but dominance. He closed his notebook, the detailed roadmap for his future laid out with the stark, cold clarity of a battle plan.
The meticulous nature of Anduin's planning suggests he's prioritizing efficiency over everything. Does this hyper-focused approach risk blindsiding him to opportunities that fall outside of his rigid plan?