When the bell rang, Professor Flitwick called Regulus back.
"Mister Black, a mont please."
Students filed out. Avery caught Regulus's eye and mouthed 'I'll wait outside,' then left with the rest.
Soon only Flitwick and Regulus remained.
Flitwick hopped down from his stack of books and walked over to Regulus.
He had to crane his neck to look up at the student who towered over him. The usual buoyant cheer was gone — replaced by sothing serious and earnest.
"Your question just now," Flitwick said, "reminded of the question you asked in your very first class — about the essence of the Levitation Charm, about magical distribution and gravitational lift."
Regulus inclined slightly, listening.
"Back then, you were after the principle — the why." Flitwick continued.
"Today you were asking why as well, but from a different angle.
You weren't asking how this charm works. You were asking what this charm doesn't work on. That represents a deepening of thought — a maturing of understanding."
He gazed up at Regulus, light glinting behind the spectacle lenses.
"Magic is simply there, Mister Black." Flitwick's voice turned soft, as though imparting an ancient secret.
"It has always existed, since the very beginning — like air, like water, like the earth.
Every person understands magic differently. The sa school, the sa professor, the sa book can produce students who go in entirely different directions.
So excel in combat magic. So in healing. So in Transfiguration. So in alchemy. These directions are not better or worse — only different choices."
His bright eyes held Regulus's. "But one thing is universal: you must believe.
Believe in magic's existence. Believe in your own understanding. Believe in the power of the heart.
Because magic sotis blossoms at the most unexpected mont — and responds when you need it most.
That response isn't always rational. It doesn't always follow logic. But it exists."
Regulus stood there. The faint fog of confusion that had clung to him began to lift.
Flitwick had seen it.
This diminutive professor, master of charms, had drawn on decades of research and teaching to spot the subtle shift in Regulus.
From pure rational analysis — to beginning to accept magic's irrational dinsion.
From attempting to explain everything through scientific thinking — to beginning to understand that so things might simply defy explanation.
So he offered these words. No specific instruction. No definitive answer. Sothing more fundantal — an attitude toward magic itself.
Regulus had indeed started as a purely rational thinker.
He was accustod to the scientific thod: observe, summarize, analyze patterns, build models.
Even confronting magic, he instinctively tried to force it into a comprehensible, deconstructable frawork.
Everything had cause and effect. Everything could be explained.
Then, as his exposure to magic widened and the worlds he saw grew vaster, he began to realize: magic could follow patterns, yes — but it could also brim with surprise and miracle.
Transfiguration involved altering the essence of matter. Soul magic touched the core mystery of existence. The Patronus Charm pointed straight to the deepest desires of the heart.
None of these were simply energy conversions to be decoded.
Yet he'd remained partial to rationality — always hunting the logic behind, always trying to build a unified frawork, always trying to slot even the seemingly idealist into a comprehensible category.
Until the Patronus. The Starry Sky Kite.
In that instant, through the most direct experience — standing on the Irish cliff, watching the sun dissolve into the sea, feeling that surge of yearning for freedom, for a vast world, for infinite possibility —
The Patronus appeared. As naturally as though it had grown from his soul.
For the first ti, he had truly touched the power of the heart.
He'd resolved to walk a path where feeling and reason coexisted: reason to chart the direction, feeling to experience the journey, calculation to govern magic, heart to receive it.
Now Flitwick's words felt like the final piece of the puzzle.
Magic is simply there.
No matter what lens he used to view it, which road he chose to approach it, whether he tried to understand it or to feel it — magic was simply there.
Unchanged by his comprehension. Neither increased nor diminished by his path. It existed — as self-evidently as the world existed.
He could study it with scientific thod. Feel it with the heart's power. Grasp it through intuition. Master it through experience.
These approaches didn't contradict or conflict. They were rely different paths — converging on the sa destination.
What mattered was believing in the road he walked, and treating magic with sincerity.
Regulus drew a deep breath, then gave Flitwick a genuine, respectful bow.
"Thank you, Professor." His voice was sincere. "Those words an a great deal to ."
Flitwick bead. The lively spark returned to his small face.
"It's my pleasure to help, Mister Black."
He said brightly: "You're very talented and very thoughtful. Keep questioning. Keep curious. But at the sa ti, stay open. The wizarding world is vast — a great many things are waiting for you to discover."
Regulus thanked him again and left the classroom.
Avery and Alex were waiting in the corridor. Seeing him erge, Avery leaned in at once: "What did the professor want?"
"Sothing about understanding magic." Regulus said.
"Oh." Avery nodded vaguely and didn't press.
The three walked together toward the next class.
Regulus moved in the center, stride steady, expression calm — but inside, the rigid insistence on framing everything in rational terms had truly begun to loosen.
He was grateful to Professor Flitwick.
Not only for the insight in those words, but because this professor could see a student's struggle, could understand the confusion, and was willing to share his own wisdom and experience.
That attentiveness and generosity — that love and respect for the act of teaching itself — made Flitwick a truly admirable person.
Raw power, magical mastery — all important.
But a heart willing to guide students, unstinting in its sharing — that was equally important.
The next class was History of Magic. Professor Binns drifted at the lectern, droning in his flat monotone about dieval European wizard councils.
Most students were drowsing; a few had smuggled extracurricular reading under their textbooks.
Regulus sat by the window, quill in hand, idly sketching aningless lines on parchnt.
Flitwick's words still echoed in his mind.
'Magic is simply there.'
'Every person understands magic differently.'
'Believe in the power of the heart.'
The words were inspiring — but not determinative.
Regulus wouldn't overhaul his path based on one professor's single speech. He wouldn't wholesale adopt soone else's view as his own truth.
His road was his to walk.
Every accomplished wizard had their own understanding, their own path.
Dumbledore. Grindelwald. Newt. Voldemort. Professor McGonagall. Professor Slughorn. Professor Flitwick...
Their paths differed, even clashed — yet each had carried its traveler to considerable heights.
Textbooks alone produced no distinction. One had to have one's own thinking, one's own comprehension, even one's own creation.
Borrowing others' experience was fine. Referencing others' thods, permitted. But wholesale copying was not — because that was their road, not his.
Flitwick's words, rather than pointing a direction, had provided sothing closer to confirmation.
Confirmation that his current line of thinking was correct. That welcoming the irrational face of magic alongside the rational wasn't regression — it was progress.
That made him more resolute.
When the bell rang, Regulus packed his books and rose.
He declined Avery and the others' invitation to lunch in the Great Hall and turned instead toward the library.
......
First day of term — the library was nearly deserted.
Most students were still riding the holiday's afterglow, preferring to stroll the castle grounds, chat with friends, or swap stories in the common room.
Regulus moved through the stacks and found the Charms section.
No particular objective. He simply drifted along the shelves, fingers trailing over spines, eyes scanning titles old and new.
Common Charms and Their Variants.
Advanced Techniques in Magical Control.
Ancient Rune-Script and Modern Spell Correlations.
Finally he drew out a volu titled On the Nature of Magic, by an author he'd never heard of.
Regulus opened the book.
Whatever path one walked, it still ca down to putting one foot in front of the other.
However much thought, however deep the understanding — in the end it had to translate into concrete knowledge acquisition, magical practice, and tangible strength.
Flitwick's words were directional guidance. But how to walk, how fast, and how to solve obstacles along the way — that was all on him.
He sank into the pages. Ti flew.
About half an hour later, the chair across from him scraped back, and soone sat down.
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