Simplified Magic Even a Dud Can Use

"What! Nicolas Flamel was our neighbor? I was that close to him!"

"What! He's already moved away!"

Ron threw his head back and howled.

Draco sneered. "Weasley, what are you bragging about? At least you still have Nicolas Flamel's door panel in your fish tank."

Hermione lowered her voice. "Do you want this spread everywhere?"

"Spreading it won't hurt. Their new home is moving up to the clouds," Harry said.

Hogwarts had no secrets—especially not ones known to Hagrid, who had been raised on Veritaserum.

Once Hagrid knew something, it meant the leak was part of the plan.

The only reason Hagrid had kept quiet before was that Dumbledore had deliberately sent him off to build a wall with Professor Kettleburn.

"So that means... I can..."

Ron's brown eyes sparkled with excitement.

After Halloween, November arrived.

The weather turned bitterly cold. The Forbidden Forest and the surrounding mountains were blanketed in snow-white. The Black Lake was covered in thick ice, and the corridors were almost constantly swept by biting winds.

Even the Slytherin common room, at the bottom of the lake, could see ice shards.

Yet despite all this, Ron still shivered as he stubbornly stood at the staircase landing.

He told everyone he met about his encounter with Nicolas Flamel.

And everyone was happy to stop and listen.

Many marveled at what a blessed land Saint Catchpole Village must be. The Weasley family living nearby had been blessed with many children and good fortune. First, Death Eater Peter Pettigrew had preferred to turn into a rat and hide there. Then, the immortal Nicolas Flamel had chosen to live in seclusion there.

But as the story was told over and over, its contents became completely distorted.

A palm-sized Nicolas Flamel had supposedly taken the initiative to run into Ron's room, invited him to tour his home, shrunk under the moonlight, encountered a mysterious ant-man kingdom's attack, turned the tide by pulling the kingdom's holy sword from a stone, saved the entire kingdom, and finally returned home at dusk, gifted with the stone that had once held the kingdom's holy sword.

Something like Arthur and the Minimoys.

Yet there were actually people in the castle who believed Ron's story.

The Patil Twins, one in Ravenclaw and one in Gryffindor, and Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff were among the believers.

"Could that be the legendary Avalon?"

"Maybe Ron pulled out the Sword in the Stone."

"Ron's father is named Arthur. Bloodline inheritance checks out..."

But in the end, the popularity of Ron's story was cut short.

Not because of the Quidditch match, nor the upcoming Christmas holidays.

But because...

Filch had successfully used magic!

At the same time, his status as a Squib was exposed.

A Squib—a firecracker that has gunpowder but won't explode when lit.

In the wizarding world, the term referred to those with wizard blood but no magical ability.

These people could see what Muggles couldn't, just like wizards, but that was where it ended.

There was hardly a Squib who didn't long to become a wizard and cast spells.

"No wonder he hates students so much and always wanted to bring back corporal punishment. Those torture tools in his office are still gleaming. He's jealous."

Ron couldn't even bother complaining about his lost spotlight anymore.

Right now, in the fourth-floor corridor.

Filch, who had conjured cat ears with a Halloween-style spell, knelt directly before Harry.

[Ding ding ding! Quest [Janitor Old Filch's Request] triggered]

[The great Savior brings the dawn of light to Squibs. Please do not hesitate to pour out your wisdom and light the lamp of hope]

[Reward: 50 EXP, Silver-grade Talent Word x1]

—Pour out wisdom my ass, pour out brain fluid?

—Creating magic that even Squibs can cast, and the reward is only Silver?

—You swallowed my reward, didn't you?

The dog-skin book remained silent as always.

"Lord Harry, please agree to my old man's request. (Cat language)" Mrs. Norris meowed, her red cat eyes fixed intently on Harry.

—Your? Old man?

Even after hearing it many times, Harry couldn't help but feel shocked.

His expression remained gentle. "I am indeed planning to further simplify magic. On the basis of incantations, wands, and wand movements, I'm adding materials, gestures, and rituals."

"For now, I'm still stuck on materials. The Halloween makeup magic uses cotton and cloth to lower the casting requirements."

Harry had actually already guessed that the more restrictive the conditions of a spell, the easier it was for a Squib to get started.

That was also why the reward was so low.

He already possessed the relevant magical knowledge; he just needed practice.

"Your next simplification is..." The cat-eared old man Filch twitched his bumpy, warty nose, his eyes filled with longing.

Everyone else couldn't help but look away, repulsed by the sight.

But Harry kept a calm expression and smiled. "The Cleaning Charm. A bar of soap, a wand that recognizes you, plus the cleaning magic from Wagadou, and you can try it yourself."

Not every country uses a wand as a casting medium. The Wagadou School of Magic in Africa teaches magic that uses gestures as a medium.

Faster, more convenient, harder to defend against, but weaker in power than wand magic.

However, combat there is mainly based on a special type of Transfiguration magic, fixed transformations into elephants and cheetahs, switching between the two—not Animagus.

"Yes, I'm going to the library right now!" Filch was extremely excited.

In truth, he also understood that this kind of combined simplified casting wasn't actually more convenient than just using soap to clean.

But at least it was truly driving magic, like a real wizard.

And at least there was a direction to work toward. Maybe through practice, one day a Squib could cast spells with just a wand and an incantation.

After the cat-eared old man and Mrs. Norris disappeared, everyone looked at Harry with reverence.

They all understood what this meant.

They were witnessing history!

Witnessing a living legend! A reincarnated Merlin!

Inventing magic that Squibs could use—magical history would surely dedicate a new page to him, and this achievement would become an eternal monument.

All kinds of honors would come pouring in.

If the Order of Merlin didn't award a medal, everyone wouldn't think Harry was unworthy, but that the Order of Merlin was blind.

Maybe one day, people would no longer say "Merlin's beard," but "Harry's flower-print underpants!"

"'The Order of Merlin Has Gone Blind'—that's a great headline."

In the library, which was packed for the first time, Ron spread out the Daily Prophet and nodded with satisfaction.

"They even considered giving Harry a Second-Class Medal, with the excuse that he's too young. What a joke."

The Order of Merlin was an organization founded by Merlin in the Middle Ages, establishing the rule that wizards should not use magic on Muggles, because Merlin believed wizards and Muggles should coexist peacefully.

But nowadays, the Order was more accurately part of the Wizengamot, and this supreme magical court awarded medals in the Order's name.

Even so, it was still remarkable.

Now almost everyone wanted to be part of this legend, to leave their name in history.

Any magic book with "gesture" or "ritual" in its title was practically borrowed out.

Ravenclaw Tower was also packed with students from other houses for the first time.

"Gilderoy Lockhart." Hermione said the name with disgust. In front of her was also a copy of the Daily Prophet. "'Here, I want to give Harry a word of advice: don't let fame go to your head...'"

"Disgusting. Harry was more famous than him when he was one year old."

"He just knows how to leech off Harry's fame."

"I bet all the experiences in his books are leeched too."

"My mum is his die-hard fan," Ron chimed in. "But I guarantee she isn't anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Draco walked into the library.

Behind him were Neville, Goyle, and Crabbe.

They had just come back from the Trophy Room, having just seen the Honorary Alumni Award the school had given Harry.

"It's really beautiful. You should have seen it—the trophy is carved from moonstone. As soon as someone gets close, it glows and sings," Neville marveled. "Only a trophy like that is worthy of Harry."

"We're reading the paper," Ron said without looking up. "It says Fudge is coming to Hogwarts today, along with people from the Order."