A low gasp of surprise rippled through the classroom.
Several Slytherin students cast envious glances, Neville from the Gryffindor side gave Herman a thumbs-up, Hugo pushed up her glasses, muttering to herself, "I need to get this up to speed too."
Draco sat diagonally behind Herman, nodding vigorously at him, her face clearly saying, "As expected of the little brother I've got my back."
Herman couldn't help but smirk slightly, but considering that Harry was sitting right next to him, he quickly suppressed his smugness.
He glanced sideways at Harry's desk; her matches were in better condition than before, no longer motionless but now gleaming with a faint silvery-gray sheen, though still shaped like a matchstick.
However, after Harry noticed his gaze, she expressionlessly pushed the matchbox aside an inch, then waved her wand again. The next moment, the match disappeared, and a silver needle lay quietly on the table.
Well, Harry is Harry. No wonder she's the one who keeps watch for Wizard Black; how could she not even be able to turn a needle into a human?
McGonagall clearly noticed this as well, nodded in satisfaction, and spoke again, " Slytherin, another ten points."
Herman withdrew his gaze, looked again at the silver needle in his palm, and then glanced around at the progress of his classmates.
Some people were still chanting incantations over the matches, some burned the matches to charred remains, and some simply gave up, lying on the table staring blankly at their textbooks.
He has already taken that first step.
He gripped the silver needle tightly, and the sense of accomplishment from going from zero to one slowly settled into his heart. At least he really had talent and the right to become stronger, so he would continue to work hard and move towards the absolute power to control his destiny.
The Charms class was on the third floor of the castle, and it was more spacious and brighter than the Transfiguration room.
The window faces south, and the afternoon sun shines in at an angle, casting warm yellow patches of light on the wooden floor.
Professor Flitwick stood on a pile of books, barely managing to peek his head out from the edge of the podium.
He cleared his throat, his voice as clear as a bell. "Good morning, everyone. Today is the first formal lesson of our Charms. Before that, I'd like to take a little time to talk about what Charms are."
Flitwick waved his wand, and a line of flowing cursive script appeared on the blackboard behind him.
"The essence of a spell is to make magical energy flow along a specific path, thereby producing a specific effect on a target; it is the foundation of all magic."
Whether it's Transfiguration, the various spells you learned in Dark Magic Defence Class, or even the hand gestures used when brewing Potions, they are all ways of casting spells.
Flitwick's voice was clear and patient. "Every wizard possesses magic within them, like water flowing through our veins and bones. The process of casting a spell involves using incantations and wand gestures to guide this water, allowing it to flow from within, envelop the object you wish to influence, and achieve the desired effect."
He raised his wand, and a soft light shone from its tip, hovering in mid-air. "It's a simple Lumos. I didn't change the material of this light, nor did I transform it into anything else; I simply released my magic in a specific way, forming light."
The ball of light dissipated, Flitwick picked up a feather from the podium and placed it on the table:
"Today we'll learn a simple spell, the Levitation Charm. Note that this is not Transfiguration Spell; we are not changing the nature of the feather. It is still a feather, still white, and still light."
All we did was use magic to lift it up, temporarily removing it from the table. This is a state-related effect, not a fundamental change. We control the magic, so don't apply the experience from the previous Transfiguration here.
Flitwick paused, his gaze sweeping across the class. "This is one of the core meanings of magic; it teaches you how to precisely control magic, making it flow along the path you desire."
A skilled spellcaster is not defined by the amount of magic power they possess, but by their ability to guide the water to where they desire it. Precision is more important than sheer power.
He leaned slightly forward from the pile of books, his tone becoming more serious. "So, the Levitation Charm you're going to practice today may seem simple, but it's actually the first formal test of your magical control abilities."
Reciting the spell correctly is just the most basic step; the real key is how you synchronize the wand's movements with the syllables of the spell, guiding the magic to envelop the feather at the correct flow.
The sound of rustling notes filled the classroom.
Herman lowered his head and wrote, mentally reviewing Flitwick's words: precision is more important than power.
This statement also applies to Transfiguration. It seems that spells and Transfiguration are fundamentally the same, except that one acts on essence and the other on state.
"Now, everyone pick up your wands, and let's begin our practice." Flitwick clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Remember, keep your wrists flexible and your movements fluid. ' Wingardium Leviosa,' stress on the third syllable."
The classroom began to fill with the buzzing of repeated chanting and the sound of wrists waving robes.
Herman had actually taught himself the Levitation Charm, but the instructions in the book were very vague, and he only managed to master it through repeated trial and error.
This shows that the standardization of education in the magical world is still inadequate; at the very least, the textbooks are poorly compiled, and teachers still have to provide instruction themselves.
Hearing Flitwick's personal explanation, Herman felt that his understanding of the Levitation Charm had deepened.
Recalling Flitwick's teachings, he gripped his wand tightly and tested the arc of his wrist's movement against the pure white feather in front of him, flicking it upwards, shaking it slightly, and then retracting his wrist.
Although I haven't chanted the spell yet, it feels great. The magic flows smoothly between my hand and wand. All that's missing is the incantation for the magic to fly out and complete everything.
Just then, Herman looked up and saw Neville and the others in the Gryffindor seats opposite him also starting their attempt.
Neville frowned at the feather, his lips moving as he repeatedly chanted the incantation. Then, with a gentle flick of his wrist, the feather swayed, floated up about two inches, and landed back on the table.
Although not perfect, it was clearly much better than those classmates who remained completely unchanged.
Hugo followed closely behind, her wrist movements so precise it was as if a ruler had been used to measure the feather. The feather rose steadily to chest height, hovered for about three seconds, and then slowly fell.
Flitwick nodded approvingly as he passed by. "Very standard spellcasting, Mr. Granger. Clean and efficient movements."
Ron sat next to Neville, her wand trembling slightly. After she finished the spell, the feather only twitched slightly, as if blown an inch by the wind. She put the wand away in frustration, her lips pouting slightly.
Neville turned his head and lowered his voice, saying, "Your wrist is too stiff. Relax, imagine it's very, very light, like you could blow it away in one breath."
Ron tried adjusting his grip on the staff and tried again. The feather floated up about a hand's width high, then wobbled back down onto the table.
It's not ideal yet, but it's better than before.
Her eyes lit up. "It really works!"
Neville smiled but didn't say anything more.
Hugo added from the side, "Make the movement a little smaller; you were shaking too much just now."