Emotion…

Runes…

One leaned entirely toward idealism, while the other carried a touch of materialist traits.

Dawn pondered Professor Flitwick’s words, feeling as if his head was filled with thoughts that slipped through his grasp.

He suddenly pulled out a piece of parchment and took a bottle of magically-infused dragon blood ink from his leather wallet.

Recalling the rune books he had read, he carefully wrote down the symbol representing “light.” The moment it was complete, the symbol gave off a faint yet undeniably real glow.

He paused.

Then, Dawn took out another sheet of parchment. Using a quill, he sketched the pattern found in the glow of the Lumos charm after it was cast.

He knew there had to be some part of that pattern responsible for the light.

But once drawn, the patterns didn’t emit any glow like the runes had.

Which meant—at least judging by what he’d seen—simply engraving the patterns wasn’t enough. One had to use magic to alter the very symbols on the page.

This was completely different from runes.

Dawn thought for a while, then tapped the parchment with his quill, leaving a trail of tiny black dots.

In short, while his abilities touched upon symbolic expression like runes did, his path was still based on controlling magic through emotion and thought.

Though those patterns, like runes, were interconnected, they merely represented traits—they couldn’t channel magic on their own.

He shook his head.

Dawn tossed all these tangled thoughts out of his mind. ‘Forget it, no need to think so hard about this now!’

Everything had to be done step by step.

His main priority right now was studying Animagus transformations and solving the issue of time limits on pattern shifting.

If necessary, or if he had some spare time later, he could always come back to study the runes in depth.

“Alright, children, that’s the end of today’s class. Before next week, each of you must complete a two-inch essay related to the Levitation Charm.”

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands and smiled from the podium. “Of course, if you’re confident enough to successfully cast the charm next class, you can skip the assignment.”

Cheers instantly erupted from the young witches and wizards below.

Hermione glanced at the redheaded boy beside her whose face was flushed with excitement and said flatly:

“Ron, the professor will check next class. Are you sure you can master the Levitation Charm?”

“Of course! Such an easy spell—I’ll have no problem with it! Right, Harry?” Ron shrugged, full of confidence and indifference.

Harry nodded firmly. “Absolutely!”

He had already decided he wouldn’t play wizard chess tonight—he would focus on mastering the Levitation Charm.

After all, thanks to what happened in flying class, Professor McGonagall had already recommended him for the Quidditch team ahead of time.

Skipping one assignment would mean more time for weekend practice!

“Suit yourselves.”

Hermione began packing her things, though she still spoke with awkward concern. “But if you really can’t get it, don’t forget to tell me!”

“Hmph, don’t worry! I definitely won’t ask you for help!” Ron felt slighted.

Hermione ignored him and turned to look at the classroom door.

There, Dawn was walking out with Neville by his side.

Hmm…

An arrogant child walking ahead, followed by a chubby, head-down boy… Why did this give her the same vibe as Draco and his little followers?

“D-Dawn… Can I… call you that?” Neville nervously tugged at his robes and asked in a small voice.

“Of course.” Dawn paused and looked back. “It’s completely normal for friends to call each other by name.”

“B-But… why would you want to be friends with me?” Neville looked confused.

But as soon as he said it, he panicked, afraid Dawn would think he was rejecting the idea. He quickly explained, “I-I mean, I’m clumsy, and forgetful, and I’m not talented with magic…”

“Even my gran says she’d be satisfied as long as I can stay alive… And you know Hermione—she’s smart and gifted… but me, I…”

Neville’s words grew more jumbled as he spoke.

Dawn scratched his head helplessly as he looked at the shrinking, self-conscious boy.

Maybe…

Maybe this is what happens to children who haven’t received enough love. Even the smallest kindness can be so overwhelming that they don’t know how to move forward.

Dawn sighed.

He never thought he’d be the one giving emotional support to someone else.

“Come on, Neville. How could you possibly be talentless?”

Dawn leaned against the wall.

“No one is useless. Even the most barren moss can still sustain life for fish. You just haven’t found your path yet.”

“But there’s no rush.” He smiled gently at the chubby boy.

“For an eleven-year-old, time is the gentlest thing of all. So even if you’re a little clumsy, it doesn’t matter. You’ve got all the time in the world to grow.”

Neville was stunned.

Even if I’m clumsy, it’s okay… no one had ever said that to him before.

He asked timidly, “I… really can?”

“Of course,” Dawn nodded.

He thought for a moment, recalling Neville’s fate in the original story, and said:

“How about this—Professor Sprout gave me a pot of Starleaf recently, but I haven’t had the time to take care of it. Could I trouble you to look after it for me?”

“I’d love to!” Neville replied instinctively.

But then he hesitated and looked discouraged again. “But… I’ll probably mess it up. I can’t do anything right…”

“Why not just give it a try?” Dawn was starting to feel tired. He kept his face stern to encourage him. “I believe in you. You won’t lose to anyone!”

Neville bit his lip, dazed for a moment.

He looked at Dawn, then nodded again.

But this time, he looked a bit more determined, “I’ll take care of it. I promise!”

“Great. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

Dawn sighed in relief and waved goodbye to Neville. As he watched the chubby boy walk away, his expression instantly collapsed.

So troublesome!

Another problem child.

Dawn let out a deep breath.

But then again…

If he had to keep up the “friendship” act under Dumbledore’s watchful eye, then his performance just now should make Neville more willing to listen to him, right?

Dawn shook his head, dropping the thought. He made his way to the fifth floor of the castle and pushed open the library doors.

“Madam Pince, could you tell me where the books on Transfiguration are?” he asked the lady who was quietly reading.

“Walk to your right. Left side, shelves ten through twenty-seven.”

Madam Pince looked up and reminded him out of habit. “No loud noises. No damaging the books. No scribbling on them.”

“Of course.”

Dawn nodded and headed toward the area she pointed to.

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