What's it like to teach Dumbledore? Thanks for the invite...

What is it like to tutor Dumbledore? Thanks for the invite.

Two days had passed since that conversation, and Dumbledore had been interacting with He Shenyan almost as an apprentice would.

However, Dumbledore himself felt nothing amiss—the one who arrives first is the teacher, and on this brand-new path, he was indeed an apprentice.

The old man even felt his vitality returning to the days of his youth; he no longer cared about political considerations or the intricate calculations that usually filled his mind, choosing instead to simply learn and experience the rhythm of every bit of magic.

Just like now, he was learning what He Shenyan called the most basic form of meditation.

He sat cross-legged, a soft blanket acting as a cushion beneath him, and a peculiar, faint fragrance allowed his thoughts to drift slowly into the clouds. Dumbledore heard He Shenyan's voice, sounding as if it were right beside his ear, yet simultaneously coming from far away.

"You have always used a wand to cast spells, so this might be somewhat difficult for you, but that is fine. As long as you master the fluid use of magic, you will have one foot through the door. Now, please listen carefully."

"Relax."

Dumbledore followed the instruction, relaxing his body completely, even more so than he would in sleep.

"Very good, you entered the state quickly. But tomorrow, you must try to enter a state of complete emptiness without the aid of potions. Now, imagine that you are floating."

He began to imagine that he was floating.

The moment this thought emerged from the depths of his heart, he felt a strange sense of joy, as if he were in a dream; everything around him drifted away, and the surrounding sounds became increasingly ethereal.

The scenery gradually became filled with fluorescence, and he was shocked to discover that he was floating in a white space containing many glowing orbs.

"Very good, now tell me, what do you see?" He Shenyan asked, his voice equally ethereal.

Next, he heard his own voice, and the vitality and excitement within it made him wonder: Is this my voice?

"There is light everywhere. White points of light. I am in a space of pure white."

"Try to grab a point of light. But do not use your hands; use your 'will'."

Following He Shenyan's instruction, he began to imagine. He imagined the point of light closest to him being grasped in his hand—a few seconds later, even though he had not moved his hand, the point of light flew over on its own.

"I caught it," Dumbledore said, so excited he was nearly at a loss for what to do.

"Open your eyes."

He Shenyan said. Dumbledore opened his eyes, and the ethereal, safe feeling vanished; he was astonished to find a white point of magical energy resting in the palm of his hand.

The old man laughed, his wrinkles smoothing out significantly: "This? Is this magic?"

"It is your magic. That space you just entered—call it whatever you like: Soul Space, Eden, Tree of Kabbalah, a palace. It doesn't matter. That is the storage place for the magic within your body."

He Shenyan explained patiently, tapping his own temple: "Generally speaking, magic is stored in the brain. Its quantity is complementary to the strength of your soul and your willpower. As your magic increases, your physical body will, without you realizing it, become very closely linked to your soul."

"This is also one of the greatest benefits of persistent meditation. Mages no longer need to fear demons, because demons no longer have the ability to take a mage's soul. Our souls belong only to us; we are entirely free."

Having said this, he winked: "Of course, I don't know if you have any demons around here."

Dumbledore looked at the soft orb of light in his hand, feeling the connection between himself and the tiny sphere, and asked: "In the world you come from, are all mages like you?"

"Which aspect are you referring to?"

Dumbledore continued: "No, I mean, are they all as willing to teach knowledge as you are? Even knowledge like this? Without asking for anything in return?"

"Of course. Not."

When this topic came up, He Shenyan perked up and laughed.

"In fact, before the seventh century AD, mages were still hoarding their knowledge and refusing to let anyone see it. Relevant spellcasting knowledge was usually passed down through families, but if a son or daughter lacked talent, they would rather write a book and take it to the grave."

"If someone had the ability to bypass the protective spells and dig it out, and if they happened to have the talent, they might learn it. After the seventeenth century, the situation became different."

"My teacher became the Sorcerer Supreme—a position similar to a guardian of the world. She traveled to many countries and united the scattered mages. After that, we shared knowledge and helped one another. Of course, that is how it is said, but you know how it goes."

He Shenyan smiled and waved his hand, and a thick tome appeared in the air. He let Dumbledore glance at the cover, Foundations and Advanced Applications of Soul Experimentation, before making it vanish.

"In short, if not for her, I would never have seen these precious antiques. And magic would not have progressed. No matter how much of a genius one person is, if they close their doors to build a carriage, they will never compare to a group of people. Don't you think?"

His words left Dumbledore feeling somewhat contemplative. He recalled similar events; perhaps humans share a common language only in this regard. No matter the world, there will always be sectarianism and mutual disdain.

He sighed.

In two days, he had started from the theory of magical construction, moved on to the integration of spirit and will, and finally reached today's meditation and application of magic. In just two short days, he had fully mastered this precious knowledge from another world, which might have taken thousands of years to develop.

A sense of profound weight washed over him.

"Alright, the break is just about over. If you are interested in the magical history of my world, I can give you a few books once this crash course is finished, and you can read them yourself then."

"As for now, get ready, Mr. Dumbledore. I am going to teach you how to use your will to influence the physical world—this might hurt a little."

Hurt?

Dumbledore didn't grasp his meaning at first, not until He Shenyan slapped him on the forehead. A massive surge of magic directly knocked his soul out of his body.

With a sharp pain, he watched in shock as his body remained where it was, still sitting cross-legged and breathing slowly.

"This? Am I dead?"

"How could that be, Mr. Dumbledore? Besides, even if you were truly dead, I have ways to pull you back."

He Shenyan shook his head.

"I just wanted you to view this process from the perspective of the soul; that way, you will see it more clearly. By the way, let me reveal a little piece of knowledge: the eye of the soul can usually see more than the physical eye, in every aspect."

He extended his right hand, and black magic gathered into a sphere in his palm. He Shenyan reminded him: "Watch closely!"

As his voice trailed off, the sphere in his palm gradually twisted and deformed; a minute later, it had become a loaf of bread.

He Shenyan took a bite and nodded in satisfaction.

"Not bad, the taste is decent. This spell is the foundation for a series of Transfiguration spells; you can call it the Bread-Making Spell. Sometimes, when I'm bored on Christmas, I dress up as Jesus and go out to hand out bread to the homeless."

His sudden sense of humor made Dumbledore chuckle.

"As for the key points, you need to fully understand the making, texture, taste, and aroma of bread—though it doesn't matter if you don't know the taste. You just need to think that this thing can fill your stomach, though the final product might end up bland."

"You must drive your magic with spirit and will, using your imagination to turn that magic into bread. Once you've mastered it, you can try transforming other things, too—anything at all."

"As long as you succeed the first time, the operating principle and magical flow of this spell will be etched into your mind. By then, you won't need to imagine it deliberately; a simple wave of your hand will be enough to conjure bread."

"However, more advanced spells require specific memorization of spell models and related arrays. All magic that doesn't require preparation works this way."

After finishing the last bite of bread, he casually sent Dumbledore's soul back into his body and added, "Now, you give it a try. Conjure anything you like to eat."

Dumbledore followed his instructions, looking almost impatient to try. He was just like a student who had just stepped into a driving school car.

The soft white ball of light in his hands only showed signs of change after five minutes, and fine beads of sweat had already appeared on Dumbledore's forehead. He Shenyan did not rush him, nor did he make a sound.

He simply watched his first formal student's efforts with patience—who hadn't had their first time casting a spell? The first time is always incredibly difficult. Encouragement and patience are the right path.

Ten minutes in, the ball of light turned into a small, elongated shape. By fifteen minutes, Dumbledore was sweating profusely. His eyes behind his half-moon spectacles were wide, his teeth gritted. Finally, the ball of light transformed into a small white candy.

"Very good, have a taste."

A smile bloomed on He Shenyan's face; he suddenly felt a sense of accomplishment. Dumbledore caught his breath and tossed the candy into his mouth. The familiar taste made him burst into hearty laughter; the old man's smile was as innocent and unburdened as a child's.

"It seems all those years of eating candy weren't in vain."

He Shenyan pulled him up from the floor and gestured, causing the basement door to swing open.

"Now, go get some rest. Your spirit needs to recover; prolonged spellcasting can lead to some minor issues. Fatigue is one of the most obvious symptoms. Stop when you feel tired; unless absolutely necessary, do not cast spells while exhausted, understand?"

Dumbledore nodded and headed upstairs to bask in the sun in the courtyard. Once he had left the basement, He Shenyan snapped his fingers. He took out a blank book with "Compendium of Novice Spells" written on the cover and began to compile it using his magic.