Auditing a Class

Charms Class continued for about another twenty minutes before Professor Flitwick had the students practice in pairs. One cast the spell while the other observed their wrist movements and incantation rhythm, then they switched roles.

The classroom was soon filled with overlapping chants.

Harry sat in the back, watching the first-years practice in pairs.

The young girl with a ponytail could already make a feather rise steadily to a height of one and a half feet and keep it there for nearly ten seconds.

Her partner was a boy with glasses. His first two attempts failed, but on the third, the feather finally rose. It only reached a few inches and fell after a moment, but it had risen nonetheless.

The young girl quietly reminded him to pay attention to the angle of his wrist turn. The boy adjusted his posture and tried again. This time, the feather rose a little higher.

Harry noticed something: these first-years used more precise language when correcting each other than his own class had back then.

They could say things like the wrist rotation was insufficient, the incantation rhythm was a little too fast, or the magical output was not smooth enough.

When they had been first-years, most people could only say vague things like, "I think I did it wrong," or, "Why does it never work?"

The difference showed that they had a clearer awareness of their own casting process. They could sense the direction of their magic's flow and distinguish the subtle differences between success and failure.

That clarity of perception was most likely brought about by the improved Ley Lines environment.

Of course, each generation being stronger than the last was a good thing. Better that than every generation being worse than the one before.

Professor Flitwick made a round of