Hogwarts classes were remarkably light for first-years—never more than three periods a day.
On Thursdays, Ravenclaw had a different trio: Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration.
For a spell with such immediate, rewarding feedback as magic,
The young wizards showed stark differences after just a few days.
Most had mastered Lumos, but only managed a faint flicker.
Some were still waving their wands haltingly, chanting loudly,
Yet their wand tips stayed stubbornly dark.
And Sean?
His Lumos practice had hit Proficient level.
The light it cast was not only brighter than the others' but steadier too.
Magic's learning logic boiled down to this:
First, understanding.
Without grasping a spell, you couldn't cast it.
So, all else equal, the more spells a wizard knew, the stronger they were.
Once understood, constant practice honed it to proficiency—
The second pillar: the more fluid your spells, the mightier the wizard.
Plenty of examples bore this out—like Gilderoy Lockhart, arriving next year,
Whose specialty, the Memory Charm, could topple even wizards fearless of vampires, werewolves, or trolls in the blink of an eye.
Practice was the unerring path to magic's essence.
After reaching basic with Lumos, Sean clearly felt his deeper grasp:
Once-stiff gestures flowed smoothly now, his pronunciation sharp and resonant.
He suspected that at peak proficiency,
He might skip voicing the incantation altogether—
Just think it silently.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 mentioned as much: the silent spells favored by advanced witches and wizards.
As for the why,
M agical Theory laid it out plainly:
**[Since incantations are specific words or phrases to trigger or invoke magic,
Silent recitation works just as well—allowing use without a sound.]**
Snape would touch on this in sixth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"Very good! Very good indeed! Remarkable progress—many of you have learned Lumos,
For those who've just got it, nonstop practice is key.
But for a few extra bright sparks..."
Professor Flitwick's reedy voice carried a wink toward Sean, Hermione, and a handful of others.
"I'll teach you the next one ahead. Come on, those who nailed Lumos last time—gather round.
The rest, don't fret: remember, a swish and flick... and crave the light..."
Flitwick was easy to underestimate, but his incantations rang crisp and true.
The standout few, under his guidance, dove into another charm:
Wingardium Leviosa.
By lesson's end, Sean's Levitation Charm had gained a full 30 proficiency under the professor's tips.
Up to (34/300).
Satisfied, Sean stepped from the long corridor of the Charms classroom. Ten minutes to Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Not much time, so the young wizards hustled along in a rush.
Until an uninvited guest crashed the party.
"Aha! Fresh firsties!"
As they reached for a door, a ghost burst through it, startling the lot.
...
It jammed a wastebasket over Seamus's head; he yelped,
"My head! Oh no—my eyes! Is it dark out?"
But the poltergeist's mischief didn't stop there. It yanked the rug from under their feet,
Sending even Michael tumbling. As he scrambled up, his nose pinched tight—the ghost had it,
Yanking and screeching,
"Got your conk!"
Anthony and Terry instinctively backed off, then edged toward Michael, steeling themselves.
Sean reacted fastest: "Peeves! Blood Bloke's coming!"
The poltergeist shrieked and bolted.
Sean and the others hauled a shaken Michael to his feet.
The surrounding young wizards stared at Sean in awe.
"Oh, thanks, Sean—big help. You lot too..."
Michael flushed, scanning to confirm Peeves gone.
He scooted closer to Sean on the sly.
"How'd you know Peeves fears the Bloody Baron?"
"Percy—we Gryffindor's prefect—mentioned it."
Sean didn't fib; Percy had said it. How Sean knew? That was another story.
On the spiraling stairs, the spooked students quickened their pace to flee.
Only when torchlight flickered in the corridor did they exhale.
Peeves lived up to his name: a mischief-maker who whooshed through Hogwarts' halls shrieking, pulling endless pranks.
Though bodiless, able to phase through walls and semi-transparent like a ghost,
He wasn't one.
Sean had gleaned that from The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection during Defence.
**[At Hogwarts, Peeves is notoriously noisy, but he's no ghost—he's a poltergeist, or prankster spirit.
Poltergeists stem from psychic energy, not echoes of the dead.
Hogwarts' ghosts disavow him entirely.
Theorists hold that poltergeists arise from subconscious acts—especially those of the oppressed.
Given the pressures Hogwarts students face over centuries, Peeves' emergence is hardly surprising.]**
Sean pondered the explanation, flipping ahead thoughtfully:
**[I advocate that young witches and wizards master at least these charms to counter magic's darkest facets.
Green Sparks;
Red Sparks;
Knockback Jinx;
Smokescreen Spell;
Wand-Lighting Charm (Lumos)]**
Sean read intently, committing the first four to memory.
Master those, and his Defence grade should hit Outstanding.
As for learning them... he glanced at Quirrell, stuttering and mumbling through his lecture.
Sean sighed deeply, jotting the plan in his notebook for now.
He had to face the dilemma that thrilled and daunted him—
Practicing potion-brewing
In the dungeon storerooms, dubbed forbidden ground under Snape's watch.