Skofot ignored the protest.
Emotions—especially useless sympathy like this—were things that had to be discarded.
What he needed was efficiency. Results.
In the first year, he immersed himself in an ocean of theory.
The books on those shelves were no ordinary reading material. They encompassed nearly every known—and some lost—body of knowledge in the wizarding world.
—The The Standard Book of Spells series, from beginner levels to grades beyond imagination; in-depth analyses of Magical Theory; the expanded edition of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi; the forbidden sections of Advanced Potion-Making, and even rare handwritten manuscripts on the nature of magic and ancient magical rituals.
Like a dry sponge, he absorbed knowledge with mad desperation.
Not merely memorizing, but understanding, dismantling, and reconstructing it.
He systematically reviewed every spell a first-year Hogwarts student was expected to master, then went far beyond that scope.
The Levitation Charm, the Lumos Charm, the Unlocking Charm, the Repairing Charm...
He did not seek mere usability. He sought mastery—an understanding of every node in the flow of magic, reaching the threshold of silent, wandless casting.
He could feel that within this strange space, his magical power was slowly but steadily growing alongside his uninterrupted studies and small-scale practice, like streams converging into a river.
Yet this growth brought not fulfillment, but a craving for even greater power.
In the second year, he turned toward more profound fields.
Runes—ancient symbols imbued with magic. He not only learned to recognize and write them, but also delved deeply into the various effects produced by their combinations and arrangements.
—Protection, curses, seals, energy guidance.
This was no longer the difficulty level of a Hogwarts elective. It was approaching the inheritance of ancient runic masters.
At the same time, he began studying spells marked "dangerous" or "advanced."
Some spells with