Chapter Thirteen: The Silent Feat
The Charms classroom was filled with the sound of hesitant incantations and frantic wand-waving. On every desk, a single white feather lay waiting to defy gravity. Professor Filius Flitwick, standing on a stack of books to see over his desk, chirped instructions with infectious enthusiasm.
"Swish and flick, now! Don't forget the wrist! 'Wingardium Leviosa'! The 'gar' is nice and long!"
Elian watched his feather with mild curiosity. The magic of this world felt so… prescribed. A specific motion, specific words, to achieve a specific effect. His mind drifted to the more fluid, will-based exercises he attempted each night. He absently waved his sandalwood wand, not bothering with the incantation, and imagined the feather lifting.
It twitched.
At that moment, a gentle chime sounded in the depths of his mind. The dormant [Bonus Objectives] panel in his Supreme Mage system shimmered and activated.
[A true master's brilliance cannot be hidden. Let your talent shine and earn respect.]
[Bonus Mission: Demonstrate exceptional magical prowess. Earn 20 House Points for Gryffindor.]
[Reward upon Success: Astral Projection.]
Elian's breath hitched. Astral Projection. The ability to separate spirit from body, to move unseen, to learn and observe without limits of fatigue or physics. It was a cornerstone ability for a mystic. But twenty points? That was a tall order for a single act.
His eyes scanned the room. The easiest way to earn points was through classroom excellence, but professors rarely awarded more than five at a time…
"Oh, Mr. Throne!" Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice broke his concentration. The tiny professor was peering at him over a student's shoulder. "Is everything quite alright? You must vocalize the incantation! In time, you may learn non-verbal spells, but for now, the words are your guide!"
Non-verbal spells. Silent casting.
That was it.
Professor Flitwick, satisfied he had Elian's attention, turned to help another student. Elian focused. He wasn't going to cast Wingardium Leviosa. He was going to lift the feather. He pointed his wand, not with the prescribed swish and flick, but with a simple, deliberate gesture. He poured his will into the motion, the energy humming from his core, down his arm, through the unique Zouwu-core wand, and out towards the feather. He did not speak.
The feather on his desk trembbled. Then, cleanly and smoothly, it rose into the air, hovering a foot above the polished wood. It didn't bob or waver. It hung there, perfectly still, as if it had always been meant to be in that spot.
Elian guided his will, and the feather drifted in a slow, graceful circle around his head.
A gasp, then silence, fell over the section of the classroom near him. One by one, students stopped their own efforts to stare.
"Merlin's beard!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, his voice climbing several octaves. He hopped down from his book pile so quickly he almost toppled over. "Oh! Oh, my! Mr. Throne! Non-verbal casting! A perfect silent Levitation Charm! On your very first attempt!"
He bustled over, his magnified eyes wide with astonishment behind his spectacles. "Have you had prior tuition, Mr. Throne? Are you from an old wizarding family?"
Elian let the feather settle gently back to the desk. "No, Professor. I'm Muggle-born. I suppose I… just forgot to say the words. I didn't know it would work."
"Forgot to—! Oh, this is wonderful! Instinctive magical control of this caliber… Why, it's exceptional! Simply exceptional!" Flitwick was practically vibrating with delight. "For exemplary instinct and skill, Gryffindor earns three points!"
A murmur of awe and envy spread through the first-years. Three points was a fantastic start. Elian smiled inwardly. Three down, seventeen to go.
By lunchtime, the news had spread like Fiendfyre through dry grass: the sixteen-year-old first-year had performed a non-verbal charm in his very first lesson. Elian felt the weight of stares and heard his name in whispers all through the corridors.
He was on his way to Defence Against the Dark Arts when a familiar, bushy-haired figure nearly barrelled into him, her arms laden with books.
"Elian! There you are!" Hermione gasped, her eyes alight with frantic curiosity. "Is it true? You cast a non-verbal Levitation Charm? In Charms? But that's advanced magic! You must have had private lessons! You must have!"
Elian held up his hands. "I really didn't, Hermione. Professor Flitwick said it was instinct."
"Instinct doesn't bypass linguistic magical theory!" she insisted, shifting the heavy books. "Non-verbal casting requires immense concentration and magical maturity! The book Quintessential Magic: From Incantation to Intention clearly states—"
"Maybe the book hasn't met everyone," Elian said gently, cutting off what promised to be a lengthy quotation. "I just… didn't say the words out loud."
Hermione stared at him, her expression a war between disbelief and an insatiable hunger to understand. Finally, she seemed to wrestle her curiosity into a request. She bit her lip, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "Could you… show me? Tonight? I'd like to understand the feeling of it."
Elian's mind went blank. Show her? He hadn't used a silent spell; he'd used telekinesis disguised as one. How could he teach that?
His hesitation lasted a second too long. Hermione's face fell, a flash of hurt crossing her features before it was replaced by stiff pride. "Never mind. It was a silly idea." She turned to leave.
"Wait!" Elian called out, the thought of losing her helpful friendship—and the chance to spend an evening with her—spurring him on. "I'll try. Meet me in the library after dinner? The theory section should be quiet."
Hermione paused. She didn't turn around, but he saw her shoulders relax. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before hurrying away, her books clutched tightly.
Elian let out a long breath. What have I gotten myself into? He'd have to figure something out, and fast.
His distraction cost him. By the time he reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the door was shut. He pushed it open quietly.
Every head turned. At the front of the room, Dolores Umbridge stood in a cloud of pink, a simpering smile frozen on her toad-like face. The smile didn't reach her small, hard eyes.
(End of Chapter)
✨✨I will release an extra chapter for every 5 reviews !!! ✨✨
Or
For every 50 power stones 🥳🥳