Anduin's contemplative silence, as he gazed across the snowy quad, was not born of reflection, but of an intense, internal focus on his next steps. The threat of Travers was neutralized, and the intelligence from Rozier regarding the Christmas attack required careful, quiet action.
He dared not act carelessly until his own magical power reached a level where he could effectively challenge a coordinated group of adult dark wizards. He was gathering strength, and patience was his sword.
Orianna, however, mistook his distant, focused expression for vacant inattention. She saw a boy utterly lost in thought, and a mischievous, almost childlike impulse overcame her Ravenclaw reserve. A quick, sly smile crossed her face.
She bent swiftly, scooping a handful of fresh, damp snow, molding it expertly into a small, hard snowball. With a playful grin aimed at his oblivious profile, she aimed directly for the back of Anduin's head and launched the projectile.
But just as the snowball entered the precise three-foot radius around Anduin, it didn't just slow down—it experienced an instantaneous, perfect inversion of kinetic energy.
The ball froze in a silent, suspended moment mid-air, its forward momentum violently arrested. Anduin, still looking at the distant landscape, had registered the initial movement only with a fractional, internal magical reflex.
Without shifting his gaze or making any external gesture, the subconscious magical impulse that had arrested the snowball did not merely dissipate; it rebounded. The trapped kinetic energy snapped back along its original trajectory, accelerating the snowball with precisely the same speed and force Orianna had imparted.
The projectile hammered Orianna squarely in the face with a soft thwump and surprising impact. The force, augmented by the hard center of the compact snow, was enough to send the much lighter girl stumbling two clumsy steps backward.
Orianna, momentarily stunned by the shock and the sudden icy chill, didn't immediately register the cold. She stood there, wide-eyed, wiping the snow from her cheeks, staring blankly at Anduin's unwavering back. She was utterly bewildered, unable to reconcile the sudden, violent feedback with the fact that Anduin had neither moved nor cast a visible spell.
Anduin finally turned his head, his focus drawn by the sound of her stumbling. He assessed the situation with the detached logic of a scientist observing a failed experiment. "Your control is weak, Orianna. The failure to maintain the trajectory of the projectile, resulting in its unexpected reversal, suggests a lack of understanding of the forces involved."
He offered no apology, no acknowledgment of the playful context, only a cold, blunt assessment of her magical technique. He then gave her a final, indifferent glance, turned his back on the Clock Square, and walked away, heading toward the edges of the grounds.
Orianna remained frozen for a long moment. Finally, a furious blush crept up her neck and face. Her initial confusion gave way to profound indignation. She stomped her foot into the snow. "How utterly mad!" she hissed, unable to articulate the chauvinistic arrogance of his response, which was rooted not in cruelty, but in an utter inability to understand social play.
Anduin, meanwhile, was oblivious to the feminine rage he had just sparked. He maintained a deep frown, still contemplating the reflexive magical action. He hadn't consciously cast the spell; the moment the snowball entered his personal boundary, the Levitation Charm, a spell he now internalized and practiced constantly, had simply reacted. It was a perfect, wordless, and wandless deflection.
As he wandered, deep in thought, toward the isolated perimeter of the Forbidden Forest, he ceased paying attention to his physical surroundings, sinking deeper into a state of profound magical enlightenment. He was surrounded by the ethereal beauty of the falling snowflakes, each unique crystal descending on the cold currents of air.
The swirling snowflakes began to behave strangely. As Anduin walked, the crystals immediately around him seemed to slow down, entering his personal, invisible sphere of influence. They stopped falling and began to drift, rotating in slow, intricate orbits, creating a miniature nebula of spiraling ice around his body.
Anduin felt a deep, seismic shift within his core understanding of the Levitation Charm. It was as if the boundary of the spell had been forcibly broken. Previously, Wingardium Leviosa had been about mass and weight, requiring focused intent and a verbal command to defy gravity.
Now, however, the concept had expanded, bleeding out into the very fabric of his awareness. He wasn't merely defying the pull of the earth; he was subtly influencing the kinetic and gravimetric state of the air, the water vapor, and the ice crystals around him.
The spell had transcended its simple schoolyard application. It was no longer about lifting a feather; it was about controlling micro-elements within a specific range, a radius of pervasive influence that extended around his body like a magical field.
I have crossed a significant threshold, he realized, a slow, predatory smile finally replacing his thoughtful frown. His control was no longer dependent on brute force or verbal precision, but on ambient magical resonance. Any object within this zone, susceptible to the Levitation Charm—solids, low-density liquids, air, and, critically, his own body—could be manipulated by his intent alone.
As this realization solidified into a coherent thought, the miniature storm around him reacted violently. The rotating snowflakes ceased their gentle dance and, as if caught in a sudden, powerful updraft, began to spiral rapidly upward, a vortex of white crystal shooting toward the grey sky.
"My control over the Levitation Charm," he whispered, feeling the smooth, effortless way he could now affect the falling snow. "It seems to have broken its limits and integrated into my magical perception."
A practical thought immediately struck him. If he could influence ambient mass, and if his body, being composed of mass, was the primary target of the Levitation Charm's focus, could he... bypass the limitations of the broomstick entirely?
A powerful, silent surge of magical energy rose around him, distinct from the swirling snow. Without an incantation, without a wand gesture, his feet slowly, almost tentatively, lifted from the soft, snowy ground.
He felt a deep, uncomfortable pressure in his core, the concentrated strain of his magic trying to defy the massive weight of his own body, but the effort was successful. His body slowly rose, achieving a stable altitude of about two feet above the untouched snow.
"It works! The internalized Levitation Charm grants me flight!" Anduin exclaimed, the sheer exhilaration of the discovery momentarily overriding his stoic exterior.
He experimented cautiously, bouncing up and down, surging forward two meters and then backing up again, maneuvering with subtle shifts of his weight and concentration. The feeling was profoundly different from riding a broom; there was no vibration, no sound of rushing wind, only the sensation of being buoyed by an invisible force field.
After a few minutes of intense testing, he landed softly, the snow untouched beneath his feet. He mentally cataloged the results.
Altitude: Limited to perhaps five or six meters with this level of effort. Trying to go higher created a sharp, painful strain in his magical core.
Speed: Pathetically slow compared to a proper racing broom. It was a tool for evasion or discreet movement, not travel.
Utility: Excellent for stealth, surprising an opponent, or cushioning a fall. It required constant, subtle concentration, making complex wandwork difficult while flying.
"Further training can undoubtedly increase the altitude and perhaps the speed," he thought, acknowledging the immediate limitations. "But the true victory today is the ambient control—the subconscious ability to detect and manipulate low-level kinetics within my perimeter. This improves my magical perception immeasurably."
He took one final, deep breath, centered his thoughts, and turned away from the Forbidden Forest. His heightened magical senses felt sharp, alive, and intensely aware of the cold, the moisture, and the life around him.
He had found a new direction for his studies, a path toward true, wandless, elemental mastery rooted in the most basic of school spells. He would need to incorporate this newfound perception into his daily routines.
He started walking briskly toward Hagrid's cabin, eager for a distraction and the comforting presence of the groundskeeper.
From that day forward, Anduin no longer maintained his relentless seclusion. He occasionally forced himself to take walks across the snowy grounds, admiring the stark, white landscape and chatting briefly with Vivian, allowing his subtle magical perimeter to train and expand its influence.
But the Christmas holidays were fast approaching, signaling the end of term. Anduin, having packed his essential books and potions ingredients, boarded the Hogwarts Express.
Inside a quiet carriage, he and Vivian sat across from each other, watching the picturesque, snow-covered Scottish landscape slide past the window. Charles, as a prefect, was elsewhere, likely mingling with his older housemates.
"Anduin, what are you meticulously writing in that journal? Are you already mapping out your plans for the new term? My father is taking me to France for the holiday. I heard their perfumeries in Paris are legendary. Do you think my father might actually buy me a bottle?" Vivian chattered, leaning forward, her curiosity piqued by his intense focus.
Anduin looked up, nodding in confirmation. "France sounds... culturally rich. You should certainly document the experience with photographs." He appreciated that Vivian, having been raised in Muggle society before being integrated into her pureblood family, possessed a contemporary, grounded view that made their conversations easy and natural.
"As for the journal, I am finalizing my Christmas plans, which currently involves strategizing the optimal gifts for my few associates."
He then looked at her with startling, direct earnestness. "Speaking of which, you will undoubtedly be acquiring presents. To simplify my task, would you mind telling me precisely what gift you desire? It would maximize efficiency."
Vivian rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "I wouldn't be surprised if I told you what I wanted! The point of a gift, Anduin, is the thoughtful anticipation and the surprise!"
"A surprise only introduces the risk of acquiring an undesired or impractical item, thus wasting capital and effort," Anduin countered, completely missing the social nuance. He leaned forward, his eyes bright with pure, uncomplicated longing.
"If you are truly interested in giving me a valuable gift, I would enthusiastically accept a complete, deluxe set of the 'Spell Symbol Collection'. I have been monitoring that set for months, but it's excessively expensive. Alternatively, a box containing two hundred standard potion vials wouldn't be bad either. Excellent quality materials are difficult to source in bulk."
Vivian stared at him, aghast at the nakedly transactional request. Her cheeks flushed not with shyness, but with the sudden, overwhelming realization of his complete social ineptitude. She felt a familiar mix of frustration and affection for the man who treated human interaction like a complex algebraic equation.
"Well," she huffed, turning her head angrily to stare out at the passing trees. "I suppose I won't be gifting you anything practical, then. I shall find something utterly, completely sentimental."
Anduin, however, was already moving on, oblivious to her pique. He uncapped his ink bottle and consulted her on a new entry.
"Excellent. Now, perhaps you can assist me with a genuinely complex problem. I need a gift for a family that has just welcomed a newborn baby. My initial thoughts centered on providing children's toys, perhaps a complete set of interlocking wooden blocks. What is your assessment of that choice?"
Vivian, despite her annoyance, was helpless against his methodical nature. She sighed, accepting her role as his unofficial social consultant.
"Anduin, what use are blocks to a newborn? They can't even focus their eyes properly. The parents have likely already acquired every necessity. If it were me, I would choose something less material and more atmospheric—perhaps a collection of simple, rhyming bedtime storybooks, or a charming music box that plays gentle lullabies. Something for the parents to use to bond, rather than the child to manipulate."
Anduin immediately agreed, nodding decisively. "Excellent input. Less material, more experiential value for the end-user. Superior analysis." He crossed out his previous notes and began scribbling her suggestions down.
He truly was a consummate heterosexual in the most baffling way—a man who meticulously observed social etiquette and understood power dynamics, yet remained completely and utterly confused when attempting to decipher the simplest emotional logic of women.
He looked back at her, ready with his next query. "And now, I need to select an appropriate item for a young witch who is emotionally invested in literature and the historical value of artifacts..."