The first class of the morning was Charms, taught by Professor Filius Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw.
He was very short and had to stand on a stack of books as he began calling the students’ names.
After calling the final name, Professor Flitwick put down the attendance list.
In his high-pitched yet remarkably penetrating voice, he announced, “Today, we shall illuminate the first light of Hogwarts—learning the illumination charm: Lumos! This is the foundation of all practical magic. It tests not brute force, but the delicate control required to maintain a stable flow of magic.”
Professor Flitwick carefully explained the pronunciation and division of the spell’s syllables, the degree of wrist rotation, and, most importantly, one crucial point.
“Remember, your pronunciation must be precise. In your mind, clearly and firmly visualize a stable, pure light bursting from the tip of your wand, rather than a blinding flash or a weak spark.”
Henry was paired with Theodore.
He regulated his breathing, followed the professor’s instructions, gently rotated his wrist, and clearly said:
“Lumos!”
A stable, soft white glow immediately gathered at the tip of his wand, like a candle flame enclosed within an invisible lampshade, illuminating one corner of the book in front of him.
The light was steady and completely free of flickering.
Perfectly executed.
“Beautiful! Absolutely textbook, Mr. Wales!”
Professor Flitwick had somehow bounced over to their desk.
His eyes narrowed appreciatively.
“Stable magical output, perfect control! Five points to Slytherin!”
Professor McGonagall’s classroom required no disciplinary intervention whatsoever before falling completely silent.
Her opening words were direct and stern.
“Transfiguration is the most rigorous and one of the most dangerous subjects you will study. Any lack of concentration may result in irreversible consequences.”
“If anyone misbehaves in my classroom, I will ask them to leave and never allow them back. Consider yourselves warned.”
She then transformed her lectern into a pig before transforming it back.
Every student was captivated.
They all wished they could immediately perform magic like Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall, however, clearly had no intention of having them attempt such advanced magic on their first lesson.
Instead, she explained the fundamental principles of Transfiguration.
After taking down a huge amount of difficult and complicated notes, Professor McGonagall handed each student a matchstick and instructed them to try turning it into a needle.
Henry’s first attempt already produced some changes in the matchstick.
Although the tip was not yet particularly pronounced, the basic shape of a needle had already begun to emerge.
By the end of the lesson, he had successfully transformed the matchstick into a slender sewing needle, even engraving a tiny snake pattern along it. This chapter is updated first at novelping dot com.
“Excellent Transfiguration, Mr. Wales.”
Professor McGonagall picked up his needle and displayed it to the class.
“An exceptionally precise transformation. Ten points to Slytherin!”
Professor McGonagall then gave Henry a rare smile.
It was obvious that this stern and somewhat old-fashioned witch quite liked him.
Other than Henry, only Hermione from Gryffindor managed to transform her matchstick into a needle.
Because Henry had set such a high standard beforehand, Hermione’s successful transformation earned Gryffindor only five points.
“You’re amazing.”
After class, Draco looked at Henry enviously.
“That’s only two classes, and you’ve already earned fifteen points for Slytherin!”
“Practice makes perfect.”
Henry’s tone was calm.
He neither boasted nor went out of his way to be modest.
“You’ll be able to do it soon too, Draco. Once you find the right feeling, you’ll realize that it’s actually not that difficult.”
The class everyone was truly looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Unfortunately, Professor Quirrell’s lesson had almost become a joke.
His classroom was filled with the smell of garlic.
Everyone said it was meant to ward off a vampire he had encountered in Romania, afraid that the vampire might return to hunt him down.
He told them that his enormous turban had been given to him by an African prince as thanks for helping him escape the harassment of a reanimated zombie.
But no one could say whether they actually believed his story.
When Pansy curiously asked how he had defeated the reanimated zombie, the professor’s face turned bright red.
He mumbled incoherently before changing the subject to the weather.
They also discovered that his enormous turban gave off a strange smell of its own.
“I bet it’s garlic.”
After class, Millicent Bulstrode said sharply, “I’ve heard vampires are extremely afraid of garlic. He probably stuffed his turban full of it. That way, he has some pathetic excuse for protection against being hunted down by vampires.”
“That’s certainly possible, Millicent.”
Pansy joined in gleefully.
No Slytherin liked this stammering professor.
Henry, however, remembered that Quirrell had stuffed his turban with garlic to cover up the smell of Voldemort attached to the back of his head.
That was Mr.
Potter’s private end-of-year tutoring arrangement with his star teacher.
After class came afternoon tea once again.
The location was still the cleverly arranged empty classroom on the second floor, with its dark green tablecloth, bone-china tea set, and exquisitely prepared three-tiered dessert stand.
Draco and Pansy were already regular guests.
This time, Pansy’s friend Daphne Greengrass had also joined them.
She was a pretty little blonde girl from a traditional pure-blood family.
It was her first time participating in such a gathering, and she looked both excited and determined to maintain proper decorum.
Henry intended to let afternoon tea culture begin circulating within Slytherin.
The atmosphere was much more familiar than during their first gathering.
Draco began deliberately mentioning some accounts of wizards associating with Muggles that his father had referred to in his letter, though naturally he took care to omit anything concerning the Malfoy family’s own history.
Pansy shared various strange and interesting stories about wizards that she had heard during family conversations.
Daphne was initially somewhat reserved, but under Henry’s gentle guidance, she eventually began talking about the Greengrass family’s traditions concerning the cultivation of certain rare magical plants.
After the tea gathering ended, Henry watched Draco, Pansy, and Daphne head toward the Great Hall but did not follow them.
Instead, he turned and walked toward the upper levels of the castle.
His destination was clear.
He soon found the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet.
Opposite it was a bare stretch of wall.
Henry concentrated and clearly visualized what he wanted in his mind:
A private room where I can safely practice spells without interruption and test their effects.
He walked back and forth in front of the wall three times.
A smooth doorway quietly appeared.
Henry pushed it open.
The room was even more practical than he had expected.
It was spacious and empty.
The walls and floor seemed to be made of some dull material capable of absorbing magical force, while only a few fixed magical lamps provided illumination.
In one corner stood a rack containing several practice dummies and targets.
It was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing.
His connection to the outside world seemed to have been completely severed.