“Don’t worry,” Adam said calmly.
“Nothing will happen.” Seamus Finnigan still looked unconvinced.
After all, every spell he attempted recently had somehow ended in an explosion.
Whether it was the Levitation Charm, basic Transfiguration, or even simple classroom exercises, disaster followed him everywhere.
At this point, Seamus himself had started developing psychological trauma toward magic.
Adam noticed his hesitation and added reassuringly: “Besides, Professor Flitwick is standing right here.
Even if something goes wrong, the Professor can handle it immediately.” Standing atop his familiar stack of books near the front of the classroom, Professor Flitwick nodded proudly.
“That’s right!” he said cheerfully.
“You may practice freely while I am here.” The tiny professor clearly trusted Adam completely.
Hearing even Professor Flitwick support the idea, Seamus finally relaxed slightly.
“…Alright then.” He took a deep breath.
The entire classroom watched nervously.
Even Dean Thomas quietly shifted his chair farther away from Seamus’ desk out of pure survival instinct.
Seamus pointed his wand toward the feather lying on the table.
“Wingardium Leviosa~~~” Nothing exploded.
That alone already counted as progress.
Unfortunately… The feather also failed to float.
It remained completely motionless.
Adam watched quietly.
Over the past week, he had already observed Seamus attempt the Levitation Charm dozens of times.
The results were remarkably consistent.
Failure.
Occasional sparks.
Minor explosions.
More failure.
“Was that the same way you used the spell earlier?” Adam asked.
Seamus nodded immediately.
“Yeah.
Professor Flitwick said ‘swish and flick,’ right?” Adam slowly raised his own wand.
Then he deliberately copied Seamus’ exact movements.
The same exaggerated motion.
The same wand angle.
The same pronunciation speed.
Even the emphasis on the incantation sounded identical.
“Wingardium Leviosa~~~” Whoosh.
The feather rose smoothly into the air.
Gasps immediately echoed around the classroom.
Several students looked stunned.
Seamus himself looked deeply confused.
Adam calmly observed the floating feather without any excitement.
Then he lowered it gently back onto the table.
“I see,” he murmured thoughtfully.
Professor Flitwick’s eyes brightened immediately.
Clearly, he realized Adam was analyzing the casting process itself.
Adam turned toward Seamus.
“The problem is your wand movement.” “My movement?” “Yes,” Adam explained patiently.
“Professor Flitwick said ‘swish and flick,’ but your motion range is far too large.” He demonstrated briefly.
“When you cast earlier, it looked less like a charm and more like you were trying to hit someone with your wand.” Several nearby students laughed quietly.
Even Seamus looked embarrassed.
“And that’s not the only issue,” Adam continued.
“Your spellcasting speed is also wrong.” Seamus blinked in confusion.
“But… I copied your speed.” Adam paused briefly.
Then he realized something important.
Because his proficiency with the Levitation Charm had already reached an extremely high level, he unconsciously cast it much faster than ordinary first-year students could manage.
For Adam, rapid casting felt natural.
For beginners like Seamus… It was disastrous.
“You’re trying to run before learning how to walk,” Adam explained calmly.
“If you haven’t mastered the basics yet, forcing advanced casting speed will only destabilize the spell.” Professor Flitwick nodded approvingly nearby.
Honestly, Adam’s teaching ability surprised even him.
Not only could Adam cast spells flawlessly— He also understood why others failed.
That level of insight was extremely rare.
“Try again,” Adam instructed.
“Reduce the movement range and slow down your pronunciation.” Seamus swallowed nervously.
“…Alright.” This time, he focused carefully.
Smaller movement.
Steadier motion.
Slower pronunciation.
“Wingardium… Leviosa…” The feather trembled.
Just slightly.
Then it stopped moving entirely.
But Seamus’ eyes widened immediately.
“It moved!” His voice filled with disbelief and excitement.
“It actually moved!” Several nearby Gryffindors also looked shocked.
Even this tiny improvement already surpassed Seamus’ previous results completely.
Meanwhile, Adam quietly heard a familiar notification within his mind.
You guided Seamus Finnigan and granted him deep insight.
Reward obtained: 50 Insight Points.
Adam’s eyes flickered slightly.
So that was how it worked.
Small bits of guidance only granted minor rewards.
But helping someone achieve genuine understanding produced far greater gains.
‘Interesting…’ At first, Adam assumed Harry, Hermione, and Ron would naturally become his primary sources of Insight Points due to their future importance.
But now… Perhaps his approach needed adjustment.
His gaze slowly drifted toward another unfortunate student nearby.
Neville Longbottom.
At the moment, Neville struggled desperately with his feather while looking on the verge of tears.
Adam narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
‘If I successfully teach Neville…’ ‘Would the reward be even higher?’ Neville suddenly felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine.
He looked around nervously without understanding why.
By the time Charms class finally ended, many students still remained excited about Adam’s demonstration.
Several first-years even began copying his teaching methods while practicing among themselves.
Professor Flitwick looked especially delighted.
“Mr.
Ambrosius,” he called happily.
“Would you accompany me to my office?” “Of course, Professor.” Adam gathered his books and followed Flitwick out of the classroom.
The Charms professor’s office was warm and cozy, filled with stacks of books, floating quills, and countless strange magical trinkets.
Professor Flitwick climbed onto his chair before gesturing politely toward another seat.
“Please, sit.” Adam obeyed calmly.
For several moments, Flitwick simply observed him thoughtfully.
Over the past week, the professor had gradually reached a shocking conclusion.
Adam Ambrosius might genuinely be the most talented student he had encountered in his entire teaching career.
Not merely talented in spellcasting.
But talented in understanding magic itself.
That distinction mattered enormously.
Finally, Flitwick spoke.
“Adam,” he said gently, “why did you intentionally imitate Mr.
Finnigan’s incorrect casting method earlier?” “You understand very well how dangerous reckless experimentation with magic can be.” Adam immediately realized the professor wasn’t criticizing him.
He was worried.
“Professor,” Adam explained honestly, “I wanted to test a theory.” “A theory?” “I wanted to see whether I could eventually create a new spell.” Silence filled the office.
Professor Flitwick’s expression changed instantly.
“…Create a spell?” Unlike ordinary students, Flitwick fully understood the significance of those words.
Spell creation was one of the highest achievements in magical theory.
Many adult wizards spent decades researching magic without ever creating a single original spell.
And now— A first-year student sat before him discussing it calmly.
Adam nodded.
“Yes.” Then he continued explaining his thoughts carefully.
“As far as I’ve observed, Mr.
Finnigan produces explosive magical reactions regardless of the spell being cast.” “Levitation Charm.” “Transfiguration.” “Elemental alteration.” “Even basic water-to-rum conversion exercises.” “Every spell somehow develops explosive properties.” Professor Flitwick listened carefully.
Adam’s silver eyes remained calm as he continued.
“So I began wondering…” “Is the phenomenon connected to his bloodline?” “Does his magical core possess explosive affinity naturally?” “Or perhaps his casting process unconsciously activates magical runes associated with combustion?” Adam paused briefly.
“I want to discover the underlying connection.” “And then attempt to create a spell specifically related to controlled explosive magic.” The office became completely silent.
Professor Flitwick stared at Adam for a long time.
Most first-year students struggled merely to cast simple charms successfully.
Meanwhile, Adam was already analyzing magical theory deeply enough to consider spell creation.
Eventually, Flitwick slowly nodded.
“I understand now.” Then he sighed softly.
“Adam… do you realize how difficult creating a new spell truly is?” “Yes.” “And you still intend to pursue it?” “I’ve prepared myself mentally.” Adam’s answer came without hesitation.
Professor Flitwick quietly met his gaze.
Within Adam’s eyes, he saw something unusual.
Determination.
Curiosity.
And perhaps most importantly— Confidence.
Not arrogance.
Not childish overconfidence.
But the quiet certainty of someone who genuinely believed he could eventually succeed.
After several seconds, Professor Flitwick smiled.
“Then follow your own path.” Adam looked slightly surprised.
Flitwick chuckled softly.
“Magic advances because people continue exploring beyond existing limits.” “If nobody attempted impossible things,” he continued, “our magical world would never progress.” The professor leaned forward slightly.
“If you encounter difficulties, you may come to me anytime.” Adam immediately stood and bowed respectfully.
“Thank you, Professor.” Flitwick waved his tiny hand dismissively.
“It’s nothing.” Then his eyes sparkled with excitement.
“To be honest…” he admitted quietly, “…I’m rather curious myself.” “If you truly succeed in creating a new spell…” He smiled faintly.
“Your name may not necessarily appear in ordinary history books.” “But it will certainly be remembered within Hogwarts.” Adam fell silent briefly.
For a moment, he imagined something impossible.
A spell created entirely by himself.
A piece of magic carrying his own understanding and will.
Not inherited knowledge.
Not ancient family teachings.
But something uniquely his.
Strangely enough— That thought excited him far more than he expected.
Give me more motivation!