Chapter 19

"Thank you, Mrs. Gray."

Wizard Sean sincerely thanked her.

The bewildered young witches and wizards behind them saw the ghost drift away and the staircase settle into place,

then surged forward like a rising tide.

"Wizard Sean, how did you do that?"

Amid the chatter, Michael’s voice sounded in Wizard Sean’s ear,

and Anthony and Terry both leaned in to listen.

"Hogwarts Castle was built in the tenth century; its rotating staircases were designed by Lady Rowena Ravenclaw..."

As Wizard Sean said this,

all three understood.

But in such a rush, who would think of that!

More importantly, asking a ghost for help—

Michael had thought it was just a prefect’s joke.

"But how did you know Mrs. Gray could influence the rotating stairs?"

Michael whispered.

"I didn’t know. But trying is better than doing nothing."

Wizard Sean replied.

They still made it to the Charms classroom just as the bell rang after they entered.

The young witches and wizards all sat down, faces flushed.

The seating arrangement in the Charms classroom was distinctive:

a central aisle ran down the middle, with four rows of connected seats on either side.

Wizard Sean found the nearest seat and sat down, beside Hermione, whose head was buried in a book.

Her side had been empty until Wizard Sean sat down,

then came Michael, Terry, and Anthony.

"You almost missed class."

Hermione’s voice muffled from inside her book.

Wizard Sean nodded and turned his gaze toward the pile of books at the end of the aisle.

The Charms professor was a remarkably tiny wizard, Professor Flitwick,

who had just appeared from behind the first row of seats and immediately captured every student’s attention.

Everyone stared curiously at the professor, barely a meter tall, with fluffy white hair and beard.

He turned, stepped slowly, and climbed to the very top of the book pile.

Eyes dropped in astonishment.

Once he steadied himself, the students couldn’t help but laugh.

"Alright, alright, laughing isn’t bad, is it?"

Professor Flitwick didn’t seem to mind at all; he adjusted his collar and continued in a light tone,

"Charms are a skill every wizard must learn.

If a wizard cannot cast charms, what right does he have to call himself a wizard?"

As he spoke, he waved his wand,

without uttering a spell, the books rose into the air,

swaying as if guided by his wand,

now swelling to the size of desks, now shrinking to the size of fingernails,

with a gentle flick, they multiplied into dozens of copies,

then transformed into animals that scampered and jumped.

Hermione watched curiously as a rabbit ran up to the desk.

Then—*pop!*—all the animals vanished into fireworks.

"Cool!"

"Whoa!"

Excited, astonished cries rose from the students below.

Professor Flitwick smiled and nodded.

Charms class began with this burst of excitement.

Just as Wizard Sean remembered, Professor Flitwick explained charm theory clearly and simply,

then began teaching the simplest charm—Lumos.

"The key to Lumos lies in the flick of the wrist—the pause must be decisive..."

Professor Flitwick’s voice echoed through the classroom.

Everyone strained to try, and most succeeded.

【You practiced Lumos at beginner level, proficiency +3】

【You practiced Lumos at beginner level, proficiency +3】

Wizard Sean’s wand tip glowed steadily.

"Got it!"

Michael tried three times, and his wand tip finally flickered with light;

he turned excitedly and saw Terry’s wand tip glowing too.

As for Anthony, he seemed to have practiced before—he succeeded on the first try.

"Alright,"

Michael grumbled and went to find another student.

"Wizard Sean?"

【You practiced Lumos at beginner level, proficiency +3】

"Wizard Sean?"

【You practiced Lumos at expert level, proficiency +10】

"Huh? Wizard Sean, didn’t you hear me?"

Michael tilted his head and leaned over.

But Wizard Sean’s mind was filled only with Professor Flitwick’s voice—

"If you still cannot produce Lumos, try this: imagine yourself in complete darkness, yearning for light—ah, you crave light so desperately..."

That is imagining yourself in darkness, yearning for light, ah, you yearn for light so deeply…

Wizard Sean murmured. He remembered the nights at the orphanage, where the power cut early and not even a candle burned,

when London still hid fugitives, and snow and wind battered the drafty windows with sharp cracks.

Wizard Sean lay on his bed, unafraid—but the longing for light never left him.

"I have a wand now,"

Wizard Sean said,

"Lumos!"

【You practiced Lumos at master level, proficiency +300】

"Merlin’s beard! Look at Wizard Sean Green!"

Professor Flitwick scrambled down from the book pile, excited.

The entire classroom was bathed in a soft glow,

the students held their breath, staring at the light—ten times larger than normal—and the young wizard holding his wand, his hair shimmering silver.

"Perfect Lumos! Ten points to Ravenclaw!"

The students heard Professor Flitwick say.

The young wizards heard Professor Flitwick say.

"Wizard Sean, Wizard Sean, how did you do that? Teach me—I really want to learn this."

Michael chattered in his ear.

"It’s emotion,"

Wizard Sean said seriously,

"Magic is inherent in a wizard. Its strength depends on the wizard’s emotion or mental power."

“Magic is inherent in the wizard. Its strength depends on the wizard’s emotions or spiritual power.”

Michael repeated. Behind him, Anthony, Terry, and Hermione listened thoughtfully.

In that moment of silence, Wizard Sean had already turned into the Great Hall.

Jia Jia Siting sat beside him as if he’d had a radar—

he always found Wizard Sean.

He always finds Wizard Sean.

Wizard Sean was curiously prodding the steak and kidney pudding, wondering what mindset British wizards had when they invented this dish.

He ate while thinking.

“The Theory of Magic” repeatedly emphasized spiritual power and emotion,

such as:

“When you master a spell, to unleash its full power,

you also need sufficient spiritual power.” These lines appeared over and over in the book.

Wizard Sean thought spiritual power was probably a composite, encompassing a wizard’s spiritual level and emotion.

Spiritual level was likely something like willpower.

Emotion was easy to understand.

Together, these two formed the key to advancing “I-think-it-so” power.

Emotion’s influence on magic was profound—this was probably magic’s most idealistic aspect.

Lady Molly Weasley, who had lost a child and was protecting another,

was provoked by Bellatrix during the final battle, reminded of Fred’s death,

and screamed in furious rage:

“Never—again—will—you—touch—my—child!”

Instantly, five silent spells turned the tide, killing Bellatrix.

Harry, by the Black Lake in the Forbidden Forest, to protect Sirius’s life,

roared:

“Ex—pec—to—Pa—tro—num!”

The next moment, he unleashed an immensely powerful Patronus Charm, driving away over a hundred Dementors.

These examples made Wizard Sean realize

how powerful emotion was in magic.

“If the emotion behind Lumos is longing, then what is the emotion behind Scourgify?”

As Wizard Sean thought this, he unconsciously bid Jia Jia Siting farewell and headed for the greenhouse.

Huh?

Jia Jia Siting?

Wizard Sean turned back to look at Jia Jia Siting again.