Cassandra's Task, That's All

When Harry opened the notebook in the dim hallway light, he gasped.

It's filled with ancient Runes analyses, spell variations and applications, and even some basic anti-spell principles that you'd only encounter in third or fourth grade.

Five times----

Harry muttered to himself, feeling a throbbing pain in his wrist.

But as he continued to peruse the notebook, he found that the ideas recorded there were exceptionally clear.

Cassandra used different colors of ink to mark the key points: red for essential core concepts that must be mastered, blue for extended knowledge, and green for content that "can be learned if time permits."

At the end of each chapter, there are also concise self-test questions.

This is not punishment; rather, it should be a carefully designed learning plan.

But Harry didn't see that; he just thought Miss Malfoy was punishing him on purpose.

These notes became his nightmare in the days that followed.

Every night by the fireplace in the Common Room, Harry would bury himself in copying those complex Charms theories, his wrists aching and his fingers even turning black with ink.

"Oh, blood, hell! How could Malfoy be so mean!" Gareth complained indignantly. "How could she treat you like this?"

But then he changed the subject.

"Of course, don't expect me to help you. I wouldn't dare mess with the Malfoy family— "

Harry rolled his eyes and gave Gareth the middle finger, while Gareth grinned at him.

During Thursday's Charms Class, Professor Ronan announced a special project.

"From today until Christmas, we will work in groups to complete a practical project to improve an existing Charms."

Excited chatter erupted in the classroom. Gareth nudged Harry with his elbow. "We can team up! I want to try improving the Lumos so it can change color!"

Harry was about to nod when he felt a gaze fall upon him.

He turned his head and saw Cassandra casually tidying up her Quill, but she was sitting with her back clearly facing him.

"Uh, Gareth— " Harry said hesitantly, "I might need to team up with Malfoy. We've always teamed up in Potions Class, and—"

"And you're her follower, I know." Gareth patted him on the shoulder understandingly. "It's okay, I'll team up with Randall. He said he wanted to try making the Softening Charm work faster."

After the group work was completed, Professor Ronan asked each group to come to the front to collect their project record sheets.

As Harry and Cassandra approached, he noticed the complex looks from several Slytherin students—curiosity and confusion, but no hostility.

Or rather, in this era, Gryffindor and Slytherin had a pretty good relationship.

"What are your project ideas?" Professor Ronan asked.

Cassandra replied gracefully, "We plan to study optimizing the casting speed of the Disarming Charm. The existing Disarming Charm takes too long to fully recite, and we want to try to find an improved solution to shorten the casting time."

Professor Ronan raised an eyebrow. "A very relevant topic, Miss Malfoy. But the Disarming Charm is one of the more complex defensive Charms. Are you sure you can finish it before the end of the semester?"

"If my henchman can meet the basic standards," Cassandra glanced at Harry, "I'll make sure he keeps up."

Back in his seat, Harry asked in a low voice, "Are we really going to study the Disarming Charm? That sounds much harder than the Levitation Charm."

"That's why it's worth studying," Cassandra, flipping through her notebook. "And it's a practical Charms you'll need to master sooner or later."

Starting tonight, practice time will be increased by half an hour if you don't want to perform poorly during your project presentation.

Harry sighed, but was actually quite excited. Creating a Charms variant—it sounded like something a real wizard would do.

On Friday afternoon, as Harry finished the last paragraph of his History of Magic essay, Gareth poked his head in from his dormitory door. "Harry! Come quick, it's snowing!"

Harry put down his Quill and walked to the window of the Gryffindor Tower.

It really snowed—not the sleet and haze typical of London, but large, heavy snowflakes that drifted slowly down from the leaden sky, covering the castle, the courtyard, and the Forbidden Forest in the distance.

The surface of Black Lake began to freeze, reflecting the pale light of winter.

"It's so beautiful, Hogwarts," Harry said softly.

"Let's look at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, family," Quisida said from a distance behind.

"It's beautiful, but it's freezing cold." Randall walked over, wrapped in a thick scarf. "My mother sent some warm socks, do you want them? I have a few extra pairs."

"Yes!" Gareth exclaimed immediately. "My feet are freezing! Hogwarts winters truly live up to their reputation."

That evening, Cassandra was unusually five minutes late for the Astronomy Tower practice.

When she appeared, her cheeks were slightly red from the cold, and a few unmelted snowflakes clung to her long golden hair.

Harry noticed that her gloves were thicker than usual, and she wasn't as agile.

"We can practice another day if you feel cold," he said with concern.

Cassandra immediately straightened her back, but her face was still somewhat pale.

Young Harry didn't know what an aunt was; he just thought Cassandra felt cold.

"I don't feel cold. Let's begin. Tonight, we'll analyze the basic magical structure of the Disarming Charm."

She drew a semi-transparent diagram of magical flow in the air with her wand. "The essence of the Disarming Charm is to disrupt the connection between the target and the wand through magic. The key is not the amount of power, but the precision and timing of the Charms."

She pointed to several nodes in the diagram. "Most students' problem is that they try to break the connection by brute force, but the correct approach is to find the weakest point of the connection and achieve the greatest effect with the least amount of magic."

Harry listened intently, occasionally asking questions. He noticed a rare passion in Cassandra's voice as she explained the principles of magic—a pure love for magic itself.

"So if I adjust the angle of the magic here," Harry pointed to an area on the map, "I can achieve the same effect with less magic?"

"Theoretically yes," Cassandra nodded, "But it requires extremely precise control. Now try the basic version."

Harry raised his wand and aimed it at a dummy that Cassandra had prepared. "Disarm your weapon!"

A beam of red light shot out from the tip of the staff, striking the wooden stick in the dummy's hand; the stick merely trembled slightly.

"Unstable magic output, and the spellcasting time is too long," Cassandra calmly commented. "Let's try again."

But her expression turned serious—for a first-year student, especially one from the Muggle Family who had never been exposed to magic, to be able to use the Disarming Charm successfully on the first try, and even to do so perfectly, was already a prodigy.

Could it be that...

Is this guy a born master of Disarming Charm?

Harry tried a few more times, improving each time, but he was still far from Cassandra's standard.

"Now try my improved version." Cassandra raised her wand with movements as fluid as a dance. "Watch my movements, and the unnecessary phrase I removed—Epelliarmus (Disarming Charm)!"

A thinner but more focused beam of red light struck the dummy, and the wooden stick flew up with a thud.

"See? The unnecessary phrases have been omitted, making the magic more focused," Cassandra said. "Now try it."

Harry took a deep breath, recalling Cassandra's movements and rhythm. "Disarming Charm!"

This time, the red light was faster and more accurate, and the stick flew higher than ever before.

"You've improved," Cassandra nodded, "But it's not enough. Keep practicing until you can consistently achieve this level."

For the next half hour, Harry practiced repeatedly.

He gradually found a wonderful sense of rhythm, and by the end of the practice, he was able to successfully execute the modified version every time.

"Barely passable." Cassandra put away the mannequin. "Starting tomorrow, practice basic hand gestures for ten minutes every morning before breakfast in your dorm room."

"Before breakfast?" Harry groaned.

"There's no room for negotiation," Cassandra interrupted him. "If you don't want to embarrass yourself too much during the project presentation—tell me how far you're on taking notes."

Harry took out his notebook; he had already copied down a third of it.

"At this rate, it should be finished before Christmas."

Cassandra took the document for inspection, her brow furrowing slightly. "The handwriting is illegible. There's a magic node diagram copied incorrectly on the second page. Recopy this page, ten more times."

Harry sighed, but nodded in acceptance.

He had learned not to argue with Cassandra's strict demands, because if he dared to object, Cassandra would really teach him a lesson.

"And," Cassandra said, her tone softening slightly as she handed the notebook back to him, "I noticed you were practicing Charms with the other Gryffindor students on Saturday morning."

Harry looked up in surprise. He had indeed arranged to practice with Gareth and Randall every Saturday morning in the Common Room, but how did Cassandra know?

"It's good to keep this practice going," Cassandra said, turning to look at the snowy night. "But remember, different teaching methods are suited to different goals. The methods your Gryffindor friends use are good for solidifying the basics, but not good enough for my lackeys."

She paused for a moment, then turned to look at Harry.

"Don't be satisfied with low standards just because things are easy. Potter, as my follower, you need to learn to be strict with yourself!"

"I understand, Miss Malfoy," Harry said dejectedly.

"Go back now," Cassandra said. "Don't be late for next practice, or I'll hang you from the ceiling."

She didn't say much, but Harry knew it wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

"I'll be ready, Miss Malfoy."

After she left, Harry stood on the Astronomy Tower for a while longer, gazing at Hogwarts in the snowy night.

Warm yellow light shone through the castle windows, contrasting with the gleam reflected from the white snow.

He thought of the Dursley family —it should be winter at Number 4 Privet Drive now, Dudley watching TV in the warm Living Room, Aunt Petunia complaining about how cold it was, Uncle Vernon loudly discussing how the damn weather forecast was never accurate.

But here, in this world from over a hundred years ago, he found his place.

Although I was just a "follower," although I was always scolded by Cassandra, and although I had to copy thick notes five times—this was much better than life in the cubicle under the stairs.

On Saturday morning, Harry was awakened by Gareth's cheers.

"Get up! The snow has stopped, everything is perfect outside!"

Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up, seeing that the world outside the window had completely transformed into a silver-clad wonderland.

The sunlight shone on the snow, reflecting a dazzling light.

"Let's go have a snowball fight!" Gareth excitedly, putting on his thick coat. "Randall has already gone downstairs; he said he's going to build a snow castle in the yard!"

Harry had long since forgotten about Cassandra's mission; he quickly washed up, dressed, and rushed downstairs with Gareth.

A large number of students had already gathered in the Gryffindor courtyard, with students from various houses mingling together, eager to compete.

"Harry! Over here!" Randall waved from behind a snowdrift half his height. "Help me reinforce the walls! Those Hufflepuff guys say they're going to attack!"

Harry joined in with a cheerful laugh, building a snow wall with several Gryffindor classmates.

Soon, a simple but fully functional snow castle was built, complete with walls, crenellations, and even a crooked snow tower.

And that damn bastion, it's absolutely outrageous.

"Attack!" came the shout from the distance from Sweeting, the lively young girl from Hufflepuff.

A group of Hufflepuff students rushed over, and the snowballs rained down like raindrops.

"Defense!" Gareth commanded. "Quisida, flank from the left! Harry, you're good with magic, use the Levitation Charm to send the snowball back!"

Harry raised his wand and tried to control the snowball with Levitation Charm.

It didn't go smoothly at first; the snowball either broke apart in mid-air or went completely in the wrong direction.

But after several attempts, he found the trick: not controlling the whole snowball, but controlling its trajectory.

"Winguardium Leviosa!"

A snowball flew precisely towards Hufflepuff's team, hitting Miss Sweeting squarely on the shoulder.

She looked up in surprise, then laughed and threw back an even bigger snowball.

The battle lasted for nearly an hour until Professor Weasley appeared at the courtyard gate.

"Children!" she called out, but with a smile in her eyes, "Brunch time! It's here! And I think some of you are already dressed and need to change."

The students scattered, laughing and joking, brushing the snow off their clothes.

Harry was panting, his cheeks red from the cold, but his heart was filled with joy.

This pure and carefree play was something he had never experienced at the Dursley family.

On the way back to the castle, Gareth put his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Are you there yet? Your Levitation Charm is getting better and better! Next time we can try making snow sculptures with magic!"

"Then I'll have to learn Transfiguration first," Harry said with a laugh. "Right now, I can't even perfectly turn a match into a needle."

"Take it slow," Gareth said optimistically. "We have a whole winter ahead of us!"

On Monday morning, when Harry arrived at the Great Hall, he heard a commotion coming from the Slater table.

He went over and found many students whispering among themselves.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked Gareth.

Gareth lowered his voice. "Haven't you heard? The Ferguson family is determined to transfer him to Durmstrang. The official notification came this morning from the hawk."