The new day dawned with the promise of more practical magic. Alister woke early, the lingering mental fatigue from his night of intense rune practice a familiar ache he easily ignored. He and Enzo Nott were silent roommates; their interactions remained strictly transactional, which suited Alister perfectly.
He made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The morning light streamed through the high windows, illuminating the rising steam from the platters of eggs, sausages, and toast. He ate quickly, his gaze sweeping the room. He briefly considered sitting with Cho at the Ravenclaw table, but he was too lazy to move places now.
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After breakfast, Alister consulted his schedule. His next class was Flying Lessons, held on the grounds outside the castle. He gathered his things and followed the streams of students out onto the sprawling lawns.
The class was held in a wide, flat, grassy area near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the damp, earthy scent of the woods. Lines of brand-new, regulation broomsticks were laid out neatly on the ground.
The group was a mix of Slytherin and Gryffindor first-years. Alister immediately felt the tension between the two Houses—a subtle, competitive energy that was already ingrained in the students. He took his place in the line.
The class was being led by a stern-looking witch with short, grey hair and eyes like a hawk, Madam Hooch. She had a short, sharp whistle, which she immediately used to command silence.
Madam Hooch stood before the lines of nervous first-years. "Now, all of you stand by your broomstick," she commanded, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Stick your right hand over your broom, and say, 'Up!'"
Alister followed the instruction, placing his hand above the rough wooden handle. Unlike the awkward, hesitant students around him, he didn't need to shout or think about the simple spell. He focused his will, not on the word, but on the concept of upward motion and the target object.
He gave a small, almost imperceptible spread of his fingers. The magical energy, under the System's perfect control, flowed out of him. The broomstick didn't jump or wobble; it rose cleanly, immediately, and settled perfectly into his outstretched palm with a gentle thwack.
He glanced around. The vast majority of the students were still shouting "Up!" and watching their brooms wiggle or roll around on the grass. Only a few managed a successful, if wobbly, lift.
Madam Hooch, who had been sweeping her gaze down the line, stopped abruptly when she saw Alister. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the perfectly achieved spell. She was used to chaos and clumsy effort on the first day. This quiet, instantaneous success was unusual.
"Well done, Mr... Potter," she said, confirming his name with a sharp glance. "Five points to Slytherin. A clean lift. That's the first step to true mastery."
Alister's focus immediately shifted to the object itself. As he gripped the handle, he directed a sliver of his attention—guided by the Ascension System—to analyze its construction.
It wasn't just wood. It was a complex, stable piece of magical engineering. He could feel the interwoven strands of enchantment within the wood grain, a subtle yet powerful structure of Alchemy. Deeper within the structure, his mind identified the core mechanism: a single, repeating Rune.
This rune was a masterful piece of practical magic, a highly specialized symbol that wasn't for carving onto objects for passive effects. Instead, it acted as a conduit. Its entire function was to continually draw a small, steady amount of the wizard's ambient magical energy and convert it into a repulsive force—a direct counter to the force of gravity.
The brilliance of the design was its efficiency and safety. The broom itself was merely a perfectly enchanted shell, and the wizard's own magic served as the fuel. It wasn't a question of raw power, but of maintaining a subtle, constant connection to the rune.
This rune can be used to create spell which can make caster fly without using any object, it was elegant, powerful, and a clear example of the kind of lost knowledge that needed to be documented and restored. He had just identified a high-tier product of applied Runes technology.
He mounted the broom, feeling the rune immediately begin to siphon energy from his core. The faint pull of magic was barely noticeable, but it gave him a light, buoyant feeling. His weight was already partially neutralized, a constant magical assist holding him steady.
Around him, the first-years slowly managed to get their brooms airborne, though none with the effortless grace Alister had displayed. Shouts of triumph mixed with yelps of frustration as wobbly brooms either leaped too high or refused to leave the ground entirely. After a few minutes of chaos, every student had their broom secured between their legs.
Madam Hooch, mounted on her own sturdy broom, flew to the center of the lines. "Now, I want you to kick off from the ground hard! Keep your brooms steady, and hover for a moment! On my whistle—three, two, one, kick!"
The sharp blast of her silver whistle cut through the air.
Alister pushed off with his feet. He didn't just kick; he channeled his Tier 1 Physique strength and his understanding of the Rune's magical structure. He found the perfect point of leverage, simultaneously pushing with his body and using his mind to feed just the right amount of energy to the broom.
Instead of shooting upward or lurching sideways, Alister's broom rose smoothly and steadily, stopping exactly six feet above the grass. He was perfectly balanced, his position stable and controlled.
Below him, the chaos was immediate. A few students shot up like rockets, only to start flailing. Others, barely managed to get off the ground, wobbling precariously. The air was filled with shouts of terror and Madam Hooch's sharp, corrective commands. Alister, however, was already analyzing the movement, breaking down the complex three-dimensional flow of energy and air resistance.
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Two weeks passed in a blur of intense, solitary focus. For Alister, life at Hogwarts was not a social experience, but a rigorous, self-imposed curriculum. He maintained his routine: flawless performance in classes to earn House points and avoid scrutiny, quick, observed meals, and then deep immersion in his work.
The library had become his sanctuary. In the quiet hours of the day, and sometimes late into the night under the cloak of his invisibility charm, he systematically devoured every book the castle held on Ancient Runes. His perfect memory and the Ascension System's processing power allowed him to memorize and analyze every known rune, from simple symbols of energy flow to complex glyphs of elemental control. He had not only learned their meanings but also their practical applications and theoretical limitations.
His nightly practice sessions in the abandoned room transformed his small blocks of wood. The floor of the chamber was now littered with hundreds of simple carvings, each one a perfect, silent testament to his control. He had mastered the basic language of the ancient craft.
Now, it was time to move on to the hard part.
Alister sat at his desk one evening, ignoring the faint snoring coming from Theodore Nott's bed. He placed a fresh, larger piece of wood before him. Mastering individual runes was merely learning the alphabet; the true power of the discipline lay in creating complex rune arrays—combining multiple symbols to produce intricate, layered, and unique magical effects.
He opened a brittle, old tome he'd found tucked away, a book detailing the fundamental principles of Runic Synthesis. The theories were incredibly dense, describing how the overlapping fields of two or more runes could either amplify their combined effect or, if the alignment was wrong, result in catastrophic magical backlash.
His immediate goal was to combine the simple Fehu (power/energy) rune with Algiz (protection) to create a layered, self-sustaining Protection Glyph that drew power directly from the ambient environment. This wasn't just simple enchanting; this was foundational Runic Alchemy.
Alister closed his eyes, his wand laid out on the desk. He didn't need it, but it was a perfect physical focus. He began the work, the faint, internal hum of his Tier 3 magic power preparing for the precise, meticulous application of his will. The air in the room grew cold as he started to channel the energy, ready to enter the next, dangerous phase of his ascension.
Initially, the simple wooden block absorbed the dual-rune inscription smoothly. The combined glyph pulsed with a faint, steady light, successfully drawing energy from the ambient air to sustain the protective ward. It was a success.
Encouraged, Alister immediately attempted a more complex array: a triple layer designed for sustained concealment and silence. This required interweaving the protection glyph with the Ansuz (communication) rune, inverting its common function to block signals. The goal was an advanced magical ward for his room.
However, as the complexity of the array increased, the problems began. The moment Alister reached the final line of the third rune, the wood began to hiss faintly. Instead of the clean, smooth absorption of energy, the magical currents became choppy and erratic. The wood itself, unable to contain the sophisticated, conflicting magical fields, began to scorch and smoke at the incision points.
Alister immediately cut the magical flow, his perfect control preventing a catastrophic explosion, but the piece of wood was ruined—charred and split.
He tried again with a fresh piece, simplifying the array slightly, but the result was the same. The raw, mundane wood was the bottleneck. It could handle a single, simple magical input, but the subtle, layered energies of complex runes were too much for its structure. The material lacked the intrinsic magical density needed to stabilize the highly compressed, overlapping enchantments.
He stopped, realizing the futility of using common materials. His progress in Runes was now limited not by his knowledge or power, but by basic supplies. The System's inherent logic confirmed his suspicion: advanced magical applications demanded advanced magical materials.
He needed wood from ancient, magically-infused trees, metals alloyed with enchanted ore, or materials like phoenix feathers or dragon hide—substances that could naturally channel and stabilize powerful enchantments.
The thought of acquiring such rare, expensive materials usually meant high-risk transactions in Diagon Alley.
He remembered Hagrid, the giant, friendly man who had introduced him to the magical world.
"I'm the Caretaker of Magical Beasts at Hogwarts, so if ye need any materials, I'm your man... I can get ye some high-quality Hippogriff feathers, or maybe some Phoenix down," Hagrid had boasted at Madam Malkin's.
A plan immediately began to form in Alister's mind. Hagrid didn't just have access to these materials; his entire job revolved around them. He was an unofficial, unregulated source, and his connection to Dumbledore meant he likely had access to some of the highest-grade magical components in the country. More importantly, Hagrid was a man of simple, genuine affection. He wouldn't sell the materials; he would likely give them away to a student he favored.
Alister realized this was his first major task outside of classwork: cultivating a relationship with the Hagrid to acquire high-value resources.
He swiftly gathered his books and the charred remnants of his experiments. His rune practice was on hold until he could secure the right supplies. Now he could get some rest.
(END OF CHAPTER)
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Bonus chapter when power stones reach 500