When the classroom was empty, I approached the professor.
"Professor Flitwick, you said you had an additional task for me. By the way, your office turned out to be the most festive, though it was the opposite an hour ago. Thank you for such an interesting lesson!"
I said this sincerely, looking around in admiration.
"Pleasant to hear, Mr. Malfoy. But you didn't need all this; you already knew that charm, and knew it well," said Flitwick with a smile, looking at me intently. "Over the entire semester, I have observed your progress for a long time and cannot help but notice your thirst for mastering my discipline. Slytherin's colors truly suit you, but I must admit, you would have fit in Ravenclaw as well. I even wanted to give you five points for your sparkling joke on the Sorting day!"
"Thank you, but that joke was a spur-of-the-moment thing," I said, feigning a slight embarrassment, though — I was lying, I was glad they remembered an offhand joke. "You know, the Hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw, but I needed to be in Slytherin... though I sometimes dream of peacefully pursuing magical science somewhere where no one disturbs me."
"Ho-ho, a worthy answer, young Slytherin. But all that is unimportant now. I would like to ask you a question: how were you able to cast a non-verbal Lumos? Of course, you need not answer, but perhaps I can assist you on your further path," the professor spoke softly with a kind smile, without a trace of sternness. It was clear he simply wanted to help a student who wished to comprehend this science.
"I think it's no secret that I was taught magic at home, including the basic Lumos. But when I came to Hogwarts and realized I was ahead of the curriculum for now, instead of learning a large number of spells, I decided to consolidate my knowledge and focus on quality."
"Very wise. I have often met young wizards who strove to learn everything at once, but it yielded little benefit."
'I fear not the man who has practiced ten thousand different spells once, but I fear the man who has practiced one spell ten thousand times,' I repeated, paraphrasing the quote from an unusual man. "It is according to this principle that I have been proceeding. First, I removed the wand movements, and after achieving that goal, I moved on to non-verbal magic, but with the movements to make it easier. And only after that did I remove both components simultaneously."
"A competent approach, I admire your cleverness," the half-goblin said enthusiastically, even standing on his chair. "And how many have you managed to learn in this manner?"
"Only four spells so far, but the further I go, the easier it becomes."
"Commendable, to achieve such results at such a young age! But I noticed that when learning a new spell, you spend significantly more time than you potentially could. You are talented and intelligent, yet you spend about the same amount of time learning a new spell as other students. But I see that, unlike many, you are learning the spell consciously."
"Is that a problem, since I'm not falling behind?"
"Of course not," Flitwick paused and smiled gently. "I merely wish to draw your attention to one detail. A young wizard may only know the approximate effect of a charm, but thanks to a clear incantation and movements, can perform it perfectly. Spells are wonderful precisely because the words allow one not to focus so intensely on the mental image. Mr. Malfoy, do you understand what I'm getting at?"
"I see... I understand," I said, a realization dawning. "When learning spells, I start concentrating on the mental form from the outset, thereby complicating the simple repetition of movements and words. But in doing so, I facilitate the future possibility of removing some of the spell's components."
"Oh, yes! Exactly correct. You, Mr. Malfoy, think a great deal, and consequently, even while learning the spell, you are partially and subconsciously beginning to eliminate the first two components."
"Is that bad?"
"Not in the slightest! It's magnificent. Specifically in your case, a different approach would only hold you back. Many students cannot yet create such strong intent, and moreover, their mental image is blurry. That is why words and movements exist. But you, if you relied solely on them, would not be able to unlock your potential — because you are not merely repeating a spell, you are comprehending its essence and truly studying it."
"I see... thank you, Professor. Now I understand…"
"And that is good. You are a rare type of student, one who understands what they are creating. Many wizards do not grasp the principle behind spells, even by the end of their lives. Keep up the good work. And your small task will be this: study the additional charms I recommended today. One of them will give you food for thought and further progress. If you have questions — feel free to come to me; I will gladly help such a dedicated student."
"Professor, thank you. And I do have one small question at the moment, if it's not too much trouble…"
"I'm listening, Mr. Malfoy?" the half-goblin asked with interest.
"How can one achieve wandless magic? I understand it's the domain of only very powerful wizards, but I have been trying for a long time to discover the secret and how to attain it."
Professor Flitwick fell silent for a moment, looking at me intently over his small nose. A spark of genuine interest flashed in his eyes.
"Ah, so that's what you're asking about, Mr. Malfoy…" he drawled, shaking his head slightly as if debating with himself. "That is a question not usually asked even by seventh-years. And that speaks volumes about you."
He clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing the room with small steps.
"Wandless magic… It has always been a special field. Most wizards rely on a wand as a focusing tool. Not because they are weaker, but because it's simpler and more reliable. A wand is like a conductor's baton in the hands of a maestro — it directs the orchestra of your magic. But if you remove the conductor… what happens to the music? It will play, but not harmoniously. Chaotically."
"So without a wand, magic is chaotic?" I clarified.
"Precisely!" Flitwick exclaimed, bouncing on the spot. "Wandless casting requires from a wizard incredible concentration, magical potential, power, and control. Not just a clear mental image, but absolute mastery over one's own magical flow. And that is why it is rare. Muggle-born children sometimes exhibit such bursts — from strong emotions, when magic breaks out without any intermediary. But to control it — that is another matter entirely. I'm not even talking about replicating ordinary spells without a wand."
He looked at me appraisingly again, and his voice took on its familiar kindness:
"I'll be honest: at your age, attempting to master this is far too early. Usually, such skills only develop in those who have trained their concentration and willpower for years. But!" — Flitwick raised a finger, marking a key point — "Your approach to spells is already laying the correct foundation. You are learning to remove the auxiliary elements and rely on the mental image itself. That is the first step towards one day letting go of the wand…"
"But it will take time?" I asked calmly.
"Years," the professor replied softly but firmly. "And patience. And for now, Mr. Malfoy, do not rush. Let your thoughts remain so clear and your control so strong. If you maintain this discipline, I am sure: when the time comes, you will achieve what many cannot even dream of."
He smiled even more warmly, as if encouraging me, and added:
"And now, off you go, the holidays have already begun. Even such serious young wizards need to rest sometimes. Perhaps I can advise you on your question, but not before your second year."
"Thank you, Professor!"
I bowed my head respectfully, in a sign of respect and gratitude, accepting his words, and headed for the exit, pondering this conversation.
***
"Do you remember how we sat in a compartment just like this six months ago, waiting for the Sorting, lessons, and wonders?" I said with slight nostalgia, addressing Avery sitting across from me.
"Yes… those were the days when we hadn't yet heard Binns lecture…" he drawled, rolling his eyes.
"Speak of the devil, and Avery speaks of Binns," Cassius snorted, lounging beside him.
"Seriously though, this time we're not traveling alone," Avery noted, raising an eyebrow slightly and glancing around at Cassius and William Graham
"The main thing is, there's no one extra," I replied with a heavy sigh.
"Heh, are you talking about Rosier?" Cassius smirked but fell silent when Avery nudged him lightly with an elbow.
"Actually, she helped me a great deal," I said calmly. "My final Potions grade is 'Outstanding'."
"Mine too," Avery added lazily, though a hint of pride still seeped into his voice. Cassius and Graham nodded respectfully.
"That's good, Avery. Potions is an extremely useful subject," I remarked.
"By the way, Arcturus," Cassius began cautiously, which was uncharacteristic of him, "how did you manage the non-verbal Lumos? Will you tell us, if it's not a secret?"
I smirked, understanding the delicacy of the question: asking about another's spellcasting was considered polite only within a close circle. It was extremely unusual for his character; after all, questions about magic were a very intimate topic for wizards. And regarding unfamiliar spells, one generally doesn't ask in polite society — what if it's a family spell passed down through generations, and here you are, curious, wanting to know others' secrets.
"It's simple," I answered. "I consolidated the spells I had learned, practiced, brought them to automaticity. Practical magic has always come easily to me, so two factors helped me achieve this result. You probably thought I managed it on the first try. I'll give you one piece of advice, as I see it's appropriate — practice more often. Magic loves repetition."
The guys nodded respectfully, and soon we began discussing spells, while the train continued to pick up speed. Snowy landscapes, white fields, and rows of bare trees flashed by outside the window. The weather was tolerable, but I was still grateful for the warm clothes and the heated compartment.
Back at the castle, I hadn't caught a cold, thanks only to the Warming Charms I'd learned after Halloween. A very useful thing and further proof that household charms are the pinnacle of convenience. An extremely important thing, without which a wizard's daily life is hard to imagine.
Time flew by with good conversation and the consumption of sweets, which I provided as the chief sweet-tooth… Although, no — Avery could contest that title. But I still love sweets, and I had plenty of pocket money. Let's forget that some sweets in the magical world tried to run away or fight back — the craving for glucose was stronger!
Heck, I even had a childhood vault with 10,000 Galleons, from which I could take up to 1,000 Galleons a year for anything I wanted. Part of that money also went towards school purchases, but overall, all school supplies for a year cost no more than 15-20 Galleons, and that was me buying the best and newest. But if funds were low, a child could be provided with all the necessities for 4-5 Galleons for the school year. Of course, I'm not counting the main expense, the school uniform, which cost as much as everything else put together.
My own uniform, made from Wampus wool and Acromantula silk, cost a couple of hundred Galleons for the entire set. By the way, the exchange rate was like this: A Galleon was worth 12 pounds, not 5, as in the books or films.
Tuition at Hogwarts itself was paid for by the Ministry, the Board of Governors, and the school's land revenues. The entire territory of Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest belonged to Hogwarts, and land leases provided a stable income. They couldn't be sold; all buildings in Hogsmeade were built on leased land, usually taken for long terms.
But these funds covered only a small part of the expenses, which is why the Ministry and the Board of Governors had the right to interfere in the educational process.
In the end, the picture is one where everything is paid for from three sources. Unfortunately for the school, the school's own holdings provided the smallest part, which is why the Ministry and the Governors could influence the educational process, and the former especially had great power over a school that was previously completely free from state control.
It was the Ministry that often provided the standard textbooks and sometimes even decided what to teach the children, interfering in many aspects of the educational process. The less money the other two sources provided, the greater the Ministry's power over Hogwarts would be. Fortunately, for now, the Governors contributed about as much as the Ministry.
When we reached the station and disembarked, many students were met by their parents. I was met by Dobby.
"Master Arcturus, welcome home!" he squeaked and, snapping his fingers, transported me directly to Malfoy Manor.
I breathed in: the Manor's scent hadn't changed. The faint smell of the fireplace, roses, and citrus, mixed with the light aromas of noble wood, mostly the coniferous scent of yew. The air, filled with not overpowering but pleasant smells, was always as fresh as after the rain.
My whole family was already waiting for me: Lucius, my father, stood by the staircase like a statue, finding it easier to drill into me with his gaze than to show joy or feeling. Mother was holding Draco by the shoulders; he had grown during my absence.
"Welcome back, son," Father's voice cut the air evenly and without tremor.
"I'm glad to be home. Father, Mother, glad to see you in good health. You've grown, Draco."
I ruffled my brother's white-blond hair, and a smile finally spread across my face. I was home.
"Dobby, take my things to my rooms."
"As you command, Master!" squeaked the elf and, bowing clumsily, disappeared along with the satchel and Dart's cage.
"Stop that!" Draco snorted, "I'm not a child! And it's stupid…"
My younger brother was already snapping back, demonstrating his future character, but as I knew from hindsight, it wouldn't be quite the same. Draco wasn't the only son now, and it showed, as he wasn't pampered and indulged as much, though it still happened. Besides, I had no intention of letting my brother become a weakling and a coward. For now, though, he was still a child.
"Brother, what's Hogwarts like? Do the staircases really move? Are there many ghosts?" Questions tumbled out one after another.
Yes, yes, I didn't care about his malicious character towards others; towards me, he looked up to me as an authority. That meant I had to make a competent wizard and manager out of him, so he could be my support in the family business.
Mother, however, finally came closer, gently cupped my face with both hands, and made me look at her. She was happy, but kept a straight face. I could feel it.
"Son, you look better than I expected. You've matured… grown taller," she whispered with a smile on her face.
Before I could find the right words, she pulled me into a tight, motherly hug...
"And now let's have tea, for I expect to learn more about what you wrote to me in your letters. Besides my interest, it's a good reason to recall wonderful school times."
After the firm hug, I somewhat satisfied my family's curiosity, and we all went to the small dining room, where our second house-elf, Binny, had prepared everything for a classic English tea. Actually, such a tea was called "five-o-clock," but contrary to the name, we drank tea at different times and often more than once a day. It was considered proper to drink about two cups at a time.
I loved tea, I love tea, and I will love tea. And with the desserts and light snacks that accompany any tea time… well, it's a good tradition, one that existed even at Hogwarts.
In the Great Hall from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM, one could drink tea and have a snack, and many did their homework there during that time. Sometimes I did too, but mostly I tried to just relax there, sipping tea and having a bite to eat, as sometimes you just want a nibble before dinner.
"The first semester is behind you, and it is gratifying that you have not disgraced our name," Father began suddenly, looking at me as if reading a ledger of future benefits.
His cold tone was accompanied by haughtiness in every word, but he didn't communicate any other way. He loved his family, but he found it difficult and alien to show feelings.
"How could I cause reputational damage to our family! Father, I hope it wasn't too costly to support the Blackmores?"
"I had to apply a little pressure. I hope it was meaningful. However, for me it was; I have already received enough from the Blackmores for this small service."
Draco sat quietly and didn't fidget. He had a promise from me. Now I had to answer any questions about Hogwarts. Actually, he had gotten a scolding from Mother, but I hadn't had much chance to interact with my brother after the ritual, so this was a good opportunity.
"Can I look at your textbooks?"
"You may," I said shortly. "But we agreed that first, I would talk with our parents, alright?"
"Understood," the small face was full of defiance and admiration simultaneously. And so, the tea time passed with conversations and a slight interrogation.
A ritualistic silence fell over the table, the kind that only happens in a house where holidays are not just about feasting.
My parents moved on to the topic of celebrating the holiday. Yule for us is a magical date, a day when magic pulses more strongly, a special day when magic is stronger than usual. So we had to prepare for it, and also go buy presents.
I intended to buy a veritable mountain of gifts — so that each of my acquaintances would get at least something. Not necessarily useful, but it would be a clear sign of attention. And it would foster a favorable disposition towards me in everyone.