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On Friday evening, Aiden arrived at Professor Flitwick's office, just as they had arranged.
"Welcome, Mr Prewett. You've brought a lot of points to Ravenclaw this week. Pumpkin juice or tea?" Professor Flitwick greeted him with a cheerful smile.
"Tea, Professor. Thank you for taking the time to guide me," Aiden replied, settling into the chair across from Flitwick's desk.
"Alright, let's skip the pleasantries, Aiden. I have a general understanding of your level. Regarding the creation of spells, I'd like to hear your own thoughts."
"Okay, Professor. I plan to start with dispelling spells. Compared to offensive spells that cause harm and defensive spells that create protective shields, dispelling spells are safer."
"Finite or Finite Incantatem?" Professor Flitwick asked, peering over his spectacles.
"Both, Professor. I think these two spells have strong development prospects. Clearly, Finite can directly act on the spell itself, but Finite Incantatem manifests as energy. I want to try to integrate the advantages of the two spells."
"Good idea, Aiden. Finite originates from the Latin finitus, meaning 'limited, restricted'. Incant means to cast a spell. While Finite Incantatem is Finite."
"Now, try using the spellcasting gesture of Finite with the incantation of Finite Incantatem," Professor Flitwick said, a mischievous smile flashing across his face.
Aiden noticed the glint in Flitwick's eyes and couldn't help but smile bitterly to himself. The Dean's going to make me suffer, isn't he?
He raised his wand and cast the spell as instructed.
"Finite Incantatem."
A flash of fire erupted from the tip of his wand with a loud bang, and Aiden was blown backwards by the force.
"Amazing magic, Aiden. It seems the magic you can channel is already comparable to that of an adult wizard. I believe you, who have completed the magical transformation of your organs, understand what I'm saying."
Professor Flitwick waved his wand and helped Aiden up from the floor.
"Yes, Professor."
"How do you feel?" Flitwick asked.
"It's a conflict, Professor. The casting action is the key to guiding magic to the target, but the incantation doesn't match this process."
Aiden shook his head, looking to Flitwick for further guidance.
"Sharp perception, Aiden. You, who can already cast some spells without a wand, have some understanding of the spellcasting process, don't you? Tell me your opinion."
Aiden nodded. "Yes, Professor. I can only cast spells without a wand if I'm very familiar with them. During the casting process, although I don't use a wand, I do simulate the complete casting process in my mind."
"That's right, Aiden. The secret of wandless magic lies in this. We don't omit the casting process; we just hide it in our consciousness. However, the speed of consciousness is so fast that it always makes those wizards who don't understand think we've omitted the casting process."
Professor Flitwick's eyes sparkled as he continued, "The mismatch between the casting action and the incantation is the key to your failure to integrate. And the missing link for the spell you want to create lies in the knowledge of incantations."
"So, should I learn Runes next?" Aiden asked.
"It seems you already have a clear direction, so let's end today's teaching here," Professor Flitwick said, giving Aiden a satisfied nod.
"Professor, you could have just told me directly, but you had to make me get blown up once," Aiden muttered, feeling more familiar with Flitwick's teaching style.
"You have to let geniuses run into walls; it's one of the few hobbies of educators," Professor Flitwick replied with a wink.
Hmph, are you Dumbledore? Aiden thought, folding his arms.
He bid Flitwick farewell and left the office, a little sore but more determined than ever.
*****
The next day, Aiden made his way to the Hogwarts Library in search of books on Runes. As he walked, he overheard groups of young wizards excitedly discussing the news about the youngest seeker in Gryffindor's history.
On his way, he ran into his dormitory friends.
"Aiden, you're here!" Edmund called, waving him over.
"Have you heard, Aiden? Harry Potter's become the Gryffindor seeker. He's the youngest seeker in the history of Hogwarts!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Oh? Why are you lot so interested in Quidditch?" Aiden asked, genuinely curious.
"We have similar sports in the Muggle world, but flying and hitting the ball—well, and each other—is so much more exciting," Oliver said, his eyes shining.
"That's right. Quidditch is brilliant, Aiden. Is it because you can't fly well that you don't like it?" Ethan teased, nudging him.
"Mind your own business. Anyway, I'm off to the library to find some information," Aiden replied, shaking his head and ending the conversation.
*****
After the four parted ways, Aiden entered the Hogwarts Library. Madam Pince glanced at him over her glasses, but as Aiden was a regular, she quickly looked away.
Luckily, books on runes weren't kept in the Restricted Section. It didn't take long for Aiden to find what he needed.
'Runes: From Entry to Burial'
The title alone caught his attention. "Whose work is this? I have to read it carefully," he murmured, intrigued.
He took the book to a desk and began to read. As he turned the pages, the author's preface drew him in:
'Runes are magical; there is no doubt about it. Many modern wizards simply regard them as an ancient script. I don't know if their brains have been invaded by trolls.
It is regrettable that the inheritance of runes has encountered a problem, namely, the difficulty of preserving paper materials. The correct writing method is magical and will turn the textbook itself into a bomb.
The wrong writing method, although it can teach these characters, is just as those trolls think—reduced to ordinary written symbols, losing their meaning as magic.
So the real inheritance of runes can only be passed down from master to disciple with the magical writing method. This book aims to introduce various characters and their meanings and does not involve the magical writing method. It is recommended that those without talent give up the research of runes.'
Oh, it seems this big shot is still a real character. The preface is basically telling people to give up, Aiden thought, finishing the preface and turning to see who had written it.
Looking closely: 'Nicolas Flamel, 1644.'
"Alright, so this guy was also a hot-tempered person when he was young—though I'm not sure if three hundred years old counts as young," Aiden mused, tucking the book under his arm and going to Madam Pince to check it out.
On the other side of the castle, Harry, who had just joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team, seemed to be in trouble...
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