Magic Power Limit

In the blink of an eye, Damon had been studying at Hogwarts for nearly two months, and that meant a certain accumulation had once again reached its peak.

[As the master of the Magic System, every breath you take represents abundant magic power.]

[Every breath grants you 0.085 Magic Points.]

[Current System Level: Level 8]

[Current Magic Level: Level 8]

[Current Magic Points: 62,916]

[Note 1: System level and Magic level are directly correlated. As the system level rises, the host's breath will possess even greater power!]

[Magic required for upgrade: 120,000/180,000]

As early as a month ago, he had already saved up forty thousand Magic Points. After pouring them all in, the Magic System jumped straight from Level 7 to Level 8. Now, it was time to upgrade again.

Damon specifically came to the Room of Requirement before starting to allocate points.

A Magic Level of 9 meant that in terms of total magical power, he would officially rival Dumbledore. Although there was still a world of difference between them in their understanding of spells and Transfiguration, it was hard to say what changes might occur.

As sixty thousand Magic Points were fed into the system, the interface shifted once more.

[Every breath grants you 0.095 Magic Points.]

[Current System Level: Level 9]

[Current Magic Level: Level 9]

[Magic required for upgrade: 180,000/Max]

[Your current magic capacity has reached the host's maximum limit. Until you significantly improve your spellcasting proficiency, you cannot increase your magic further.]

[Note: When your magic rises again, you will become a new legend.]

"Level 9 is the cap for now?" Damon raised an eyebrow slightly. "So the Magic Points from here on can only be used to upgrade talents?"

He calmly accepted this reality and began calculating in his mind—based on his current breathing rate, he could gain 2,736 points per day.

"Hmm, to upgrade an Expert-level talent once would take a year. That's really long."

Looking at the four Expert-level skills that each required a million Magic Points to upgrade one level, Damon decisively closed the system panel and stopped paying attention.

In short, he could just ignore the system for now.

On the morning of Halloween, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, spilling into the room.

Damon was still awake early, washing up unhurriedly amidst the sweet, enticing aroma of baking pumpkin.

Beside him, Harry, Ron, and the others rubbed their sleepy eyes, discussing the upcoming holiday—ever since Ron was late to Potions class and got thoroughly scolded by Snape, no one in the dormitory dared to sleep in anymore.

And as Damon's performance in class grew more and more dazzling, his four roommates, driven by a certain sense of crisis, had also become much more diligent, often moving together with him.

In Charms class, Professor Flitwick began teaching everyone the Levitation Charm, which made Harry's thoughts wander a bit.

The Levitation Charm—wasn't that the spell Damon had cast when he first arrived at school? Back then, he said they'd learn it soon after starting school—but now two months had passed, and that was hardly "soon."

"Now, don't forget that delicate wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick stood on his usual stack of books. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick."

"And pronouncing the spell correctly is very important—don't forget the wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself lying on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

"Damon, would you care to demonstrate for us?"

Ever since Damon had completed Professor Flitwick's extra assignments for a full month, this had become a routine—after each personal demonstration, he would have Damon demonstrate once more.

On this point, the two had once had a serious discussion.

Damon felt this kind of behavior would put unnecessary pressure on the other young witches and wizards, but Professor Flitwick told him earnestly, "Excellence can be contagious. By constantly exposing these young witches and wizards to an outstanding peer, they will unconsciously become better themselves."

"Damon, this isn't about showing off—it's a very important duty. You should light the way for them, let them know what a truly outstanding wizard can achieve at their age."

At the time, Damon had wanted to think while taking a sip of tea, only to find his cup empty.

"Would you like a refill?"

Professor Flitwick used the Levitation Charm to pour Damon another cup of black tea.

"If some young witch or wizard gets so discouraged they want to drop out, I'm not taking responsibility."

"I believe these children aren't that fragile, Damon." Professor Flitwick's smile was warm and bright.

Snapping back to the present.

Now, looking at the group of young witches and wizards before him, Damon recited softly but firmly:

"Wingardium Leviosa."

The feather before him began to rise slowly and steadily, eventually reaching the ceiling under everyone's gaze, then descending back to the ground at an even pace.

"Perfect and precise control—a textbook Levitation Charm!" Professor Flitwick clapped from atop his book stack. "Five points to Gryffindor, for your textbook Levitation Charm!"

"Five points—isn't that a bit generous, Professor?"

"Don't worry, I heard Snape has been docking your points lately?" Professor Flitwick winked at Damon. "I can't let our Duelling Prince get disliked by the other students over the House Cup."

By the time Damon returned to his seat, Ron's face was already flushed red as he started waving his wand—he couldn't wait to see his own feather perform just like Damon's.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, swinging his two long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Hermione said bluntly. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"If you're so clever, you do it, then," Ron snarled, his face reddening.

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, raised her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose from the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick called out, clapping. "Everyone look, Miss Granger has done it!"

"All right, stop staring at others, Neville. Focus on yourself."

"Yes, Damon!"

By the time class was nearly over, Ron's mood had soured completely. Just as Damon was held back again by Professor Flitwick, Ron seized the chance to vent freely to Harry.

"No wonder everyone can't stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed through the crowded corridor. "Honestly, she's like a nightmare."

"Look at Damon—he's way better than her, but he never acts all high and mighty like that!"

Someone bumped into Harry and hurried past.

It was Hermione.

Harry caught a glimpse of her face—and was startled to see tears in her eyes.

"I think she heard you."

"So what?" Ron said, though he looked a bit uneasy. "She must've noticed by now that she hasn't got any friends."

Harry knew Ron was in the wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to scold him, so he only said, "You'd better hope Damon doesn't find out. You know he doesn't like you badmouthing Hermione behind her back."

"I'd say it to her face, so how's that 'behind her back'?"

Ron's voice was even more defensive, but his mouth stayed stubborn.

Hermione didn't show up for the next class, nor for the rest of the afternoon.

Harry and Ron headed downstairs to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, and overheard Pettigrew telling his friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wouldn't let anyone comfort her.

Ron looked even more uncomfortable at that.

But a moment later, when they stepped into the Great Hall and saw the dazzling Halloween decorations, they promptly forgot all about Hermione.