What was once a shapeless mass slowly compacted into a sphere, sprouting more and more fine “hairs” on its surface.

This was a pattern related to toxins—one he had discovered during his attempts to brew a potion for curing boils.

Just as he had hoped!

His theory worked!

Joy welled up within Dawn.

But soon enough, he ran into the first issue in his research—The time limit of magical alterations.

He had assumed that altering a single pattern might last longer than transforming the entire creature through Transfiguration.

But the result proved otherwise.

The modified pattern reverted in less than a second—faster than even full Transfiguration—and didn’t even give him time to study what changes had occurred.

Dawn clicked his tongue in frustration.

He still hadn’t figured out why a single-pattern transformation would be even less stable. But the issue of time limits wasn’t unexpected— Transfiguration wasn’t permanent either, after all.

And as for that, Dawn now had two potential approaches.

As far as he knew, there were only two ways to achieve permanent transformation in the magical world: the Philosopher’s Stone and Animagus transformation.

The Philosopher’s Stone option was off the table. Dumbledore was highly unlikely to entrust it to him.

Even if he wanted to seek an opportunity through the original plot, he had only just seen the Mirror of Erised the day before. The Stone clearly hadn’t been hidden in Hogwarts yet.

So—Dawn decided to focus on studying the transformation principles behind Animagus and apply them to his own research.

Which meant he would need a large number of books and some proper guidance.

Having set his next goal, Dawn glanced at the time, picked up the toad, and left the Room of Requirement.

But he didn’t go to the library.

Because the first class of the afternoon was his own house’s Charms lesson.

……..

Charms Classroom.

Professor Flitwick stood on a pile of books so that he could peek over the top of the podium.

Rumor had it he had goblin blood, which made him unusually short—even when standing, he barely reached Dawn’s knees.

However, he was nothing like the greedy, cunning goblins from Gringotts.

Professor Flitwick was witty and passionate, and without a doubt, a master duelist.

He also had a remarkable ability to break down complex charms into simple steps. Just in terms of teaching ability, he was an exceptional professor.

“Remember: it’s a gentle swish and flick. And it’s Wingardium LeviOsa, not Wingardium Levio-SA!”

During class Professor Flitwick demonstrated how to make a feather float in the air, then allowed the eager students to try it for themselves.

“You’re doing it wrong, Neville.”

Dawn reached out to stop the chubby boy from awkwardly swinging his wand.

Yes, this Charms lesson was shared with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. And Dawn had made a point of sitting next to Neville.

“Trying to mimic others won’t help. What you need is a firm belief and to follow the feeling in your heart.”

Neville looked hesitant and confused. “The feeling… in my heart?”

“That’s right.”

Dawn nodded. “Do you know about nonverbal and wandless magic? In my view, all spells and wand movements aren’t truly necessary for casting. They’re more like psychological cues.”

“By mimicking specific words and actions, you’re reinforcing your own belief that you can cast the spell.”

Dawn pulled out his wand. “So forget about those for a moment, Neville. You just want the feather to float. Believe you can do it—and that’s enough!”

As he spoke, he gave a casual flick of his wand—ignoring the proper movements and skipping the incantation entirely.

*Swish!* Yet in the next second, the feather on the desk floated effortlessly into the air and danced at his command.

“Oh! A beautiful casting! Three points to Ravenclaw,” Professor Flitwick exclaimed excitedly.

It wasn’t just his appreciation for gifted students.

More importantly— He saw that Dawn was earnestly helping his classmates. Such warmth convinced him that Professor McGonagall’s concerns were clearly unfounded.

This was definitely a good child.

Nearby, Hermione huffed in frustration. “Wingardium LeviOsa!”

“Oh, very good! Three points to Gryffindor as well!”

Flitwick clapped again, not showing any favoritism. He stepped down from the podium and walked among the students to monitor their progress.

But when he passed Dawn, he stopped.

“My boy.”

Professor Flitwick looked up with a kind smile. “I heard your explanation just now—it was insightful. But there’s one thing you got wrong.”

“I was wrong?” Dawn asked curiously.

“Yes.”

Flitwick nodded.

It had been a long time since he’d met such a talented young wizard. Intrigued, he didn’t mind chatting a bit outside the lesson.

“Do you know what wizards used to manipulate magic before widespread use of incantations?”

Dawn thought for a moment. “Runes?”

“Exactly. Runes.”

Professor Flitwick nodded. “No one knows exactly when or by whom they were discovered.”

“But early wizards found that by combining different runes in certain structures, they could produce all sorts of wondrous effects.”

“And this method was far more stable than using magic driven purely by emotion.” Flitwick raised a finger. “However, there was one big issue with it.”

“And that was the difficulty of mastering it!”

“For example, at Hogwarts today, students don’t study runes until third year—and even then, only as an elective.”

“So to make spellcasting more accessible, over generations, people simplified the sounds of the runes into incantations.”

“And when wands were invented, the structured components of rune-based magic were further simplified into wand movements.”

He demonstrated again with his wand, swishing and flicking as he said:

“Wingardium LeviOsa,” making a feather rise into the air.

“So you see, incantations and gestures aren’t just psychological tricks. They’re real tools that help young witches and wizards grasp magic more easily.”

Then, changing tone slightly, he added, “Of course, your view is also correct. After all, emotion and will are indeed the core of all magic.”

Dawn frowned. He had always believed that spells and wand movements helped him cast magic only because they reinforced his belief.

But now… how were runes connected to all of this?

But… what did that have to do with runes? Dawn cast the Levitation Charm again, this time using the standard incantation and wand movement.

“Wait a second, Professor!”

A sudden realization struck him, and he blurted out, “If magic is fundamentally based on emotion and thought, then how do runes work?! What do they have to do with emotions?”

“No idea!”

Professor Flitwick spread his hands without hesitation. “Honestly, the relationship between runes and emotion is still an unsolved debate in the wizarding world.”

“To tell the truth, they seem like two entirely different systems—both influencing magic, but in completely separate ways.”

*Bang—!*

Dawn was about to press for more when a sudden noise interrupted their conversation.

They turned instinctively toward the sound.

A Gryffindor student stood at his desk, face covered in soot, with a half-burnt feather still smoldering in front of him.

Seamus Finnigan.

The explosive maniac of the original story, a peculiar genius whose every attempt at magic seemed to end in some sort of blast.

“Oh dear!”

Professor Flitwick quickly rushed over to assess the situation.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too serious. He let out a breath of relief, but still sent Seamus and the nearby students who’d been caught in the blast off to the infirmary.

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