Classes at Hogwarts were remarkably light; first-years rarely had more than three lessons per day.
For Ravenclaw, Thursday consisted of Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration.
With Charms being a branch of magic that offered immediate, tangible feedback, the differences in progress among students appeared within just a few days.
Most first-years had mastered the Lumos charm well enough to produce a faint, trembling glow.
Some were still waving their wands awkwardly—jerky movements, loud incantations—yet unable to produce even the smallest spark of light.
And Sean?
His Lumos practice had already reached Adept level.
The light from his wand was not only significantly brighter but astonishingly stable.
Magic followed a very simple logic—
first comes understanding.
If you do not understand a spell, you cannot cast it.
Therefore, ignoring other conditions, the more spells a wizard can wield, the stronger that wizard becomes.
But once you do understand a spell, you must practice continuously, polishing it until mastery.
That is the second logic of magical growth:
The more proficient the spell, the stronger the wizard.
There were countless famous examples—
such as Gilderoy Lockhart, arriving next year.
Though a fraud in many ways, he specialized in the Memory Charm, and his mastery was so deep that even seasoned wizards—hunters of vampires, werewolves, and trolls—could fall helplessly to a single flick of his wand.
Practice was the only path toward the core of magic.
After reaching the beginner level in Lumos, Sean could clearly feel his understanding deepen.
Movements that used to be stiff had become fluid; pronunciation that once stumbled now rang crisp and steady.
Sean suspected that once his proficiency reached a high enough level, he wouldn't even need to speak the incantation aloud—
silent casting, the hallmark of advanced wizards.
As Standard Book of Spells, Grade One stated:
Silent magic becomes possible when the caster fully understands the meaning of the incantation and the magical mechanism behind it.
Magical Theory explained the principle even more clearly:
Incantations are triggers—specific words or phrases used to call upon magical forces.
If the caster fully understands the magical mechanism, internal recitation is sufficient, provided proper mental discipline is achieved.
Professor Snape would later cover this in sixth-year Defence classes.
"Excellent! Excellent progress! Many of you have successfully cast Lumos.
For those who just learned it—keep practicing regularly!
But for certain promising young witches and wizards…"
Professor Flitwick's sharp little voice rose enthusiastically.
As he spoke, he winked at Sean, Hermione, and a few others.
"I'll teach you something new ahead of schedule. Come closer, those who mastered Lumos last time.
The rest—don't worry! Remember: controlled movement, clear intention, and a desire for light!"
Despite his tiny size, Flitwick spoke incantations with impeccable precision.
The select group gathered around him and began practicing their new spell:
Wingardium Leviosa — the Levitation Charm.
Under Flitwick's careful guidance, Sean practiced until class ended, gaining 30 proficiency points, bringing his total to 34/300.
Satisfied, Sean stepped out into the long corridor. First-years had only ten minutes to travel to Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Not much time—so the hallway filled with students hurrying along.
Until they encountered an unexpected obstacle.
"A-ha! First-year brats!"
A ghost suddenly burst from behind a door the students were opening, nearly scaring them senseless.
He jammed a waste-paper basket over Seamus's head.
"My head! Oh—my eyes! Is it night already?!"
And the prank was only just beginning.
With a gleeful shriek, the ghost whipped the rug out from under their feet.
Even Michael went flying, landing hard. Just as he lifted himself up, the ghost seized his nose and screeched:
"Got your nose!!"
Anthony and Terry instinctively stepped backward—then forced themselves forward, terrified but determined.
Sean moved the fastest.
"Peeves! The Bloody Baron is coming!"
The ghost shrieked like a banshee and vanished in an instant.
Sean and the others hurried to lift Michael upright.
Around them, wide-eyed classmates stared at Sean with stunned admiration.
"Th-thanks, Sean. You really saved us. And you two as well…"
Michael's cheeks flushed pink. He scanned the corridor—confirming Peeves was gone—then scooted a little closer to Sean.
"Sean, how did you know Peeves is afraid of the Bloody Baron?"
"Percy Weasley told me."
Sean spoke honestly—Percy had mentioned it.
Though how Sean came to hear it… was another story entirely.
The first-years practically sprinted up the rotating staircase, terrified Peeves might return.
Only when torch-light filled the hall did they breathe again.
Peeves was appropriately named.
He loved chaos, lived for pranks, and screeched his way through Hogwarts daily.
Though he looked like a ghost, half-transparent and able to fly through walls—
he was not an actual ghost.
Sean had discovered the truth in The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection:
Peeves is a poltergeist, not a ghost—an embodiment of psychic energy rather than a lingering soul.
Hogwarts' ghosts all agree he is not one of them.
Scholars believe poltergeists are born from subconscious emotional pressure—
especially from the repressed frustrations of students.
Considering that Hogwarts has housed stressed students for a thousand years,
Peeves's existence is hardly surprising.
Sean found the explanation fascinating and continued reading:
Every young witch or wizard should master the following defensive spells:
Green Sparks, Red Sparks, Knockback Jinx, Smokescreen Spell, and the Wand-Lighting Charm (Lumos).
Sean memorized the first four mentally.
If he learned those, his Defence Against the Dark Arts performance would definitely earn an Outstanding.
As for how to learn them…
Sean glanced at Professor Quirrell, who was currently stuttering so badly his words were nearly incomprehensible.
Sean sighed deeply and set that plan aside in his notebook for later.
He had to face the issue that filled him with both excitement and dread—
practicing potion-brewing,
inside the infamous dungeons ruled by Professor Snape.
The place students whispered about as a forbidden zone.
He tightened his grip on his notes.
Sooner or later, he would have to go there.
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