Chapter 26: Nothing Happened Tonight
"We're near the unicorn clearing now," Hagrid said, standing on a small hill and pointing towards a winding forest stream in the distance. In the moonlit glade, a herd of beautiful, ethereal creatures grazed and played.
Dumbledore gently tapped the air in front of them with his wand. The space where the four of them stood began to shift and fold like a turning kaleidoscope, the colors bleeding and swirling until, from the outside, they had completely vanished.
"Is this… a Disillusionment Charm?" Ryan asked, awestruck. He had never seen one that could conceal such a large area.
"When one's understanding of magic reaches a certain level," Professor Flitwick explained, "one can cast aside the rigid form of a spell and use its essence at will."
"It's like multi-casting," Dumbledore added. "When you become exceptionally skilled with a spell, you can cast it multiple times at once. This is, in essence, an alteration of the spell's form. The same principle applies to altering the spell's effect." He turned to Ryan. "Tell me, Ryan, what is magic?"
What is magic?
It was a question Ryan had pondered countless times, filling pages of his Inquiries notebook with various theories. Along with "what is magical power?", he considered it to be one of the fundamental questions of wizarding existence. Dumbledore wasn't asking for a definitive answer; he was asking for Ryan's personal understanding.
Ryan spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words. "Headmaster, I believe that magic is… the use of power to fulfill a wish."
"An excellent answer. Ten points to Ravenclaw," Dumbledore said, looking pleased. "And if magic is the use of power to fulfill a wish, then is the form of the spell itself truly important?"
The words hit Ryan with the force of a revelation. He finally understood the true nature of spells. Just as Muggles had created mathematics as a tool to measure, understand, and ultimately manipulate the world, wizards had created spells as tools to channel their power and reshape reality. A slight deviation in a mathematical formula could lead to catastrophic failure. Similarly, a minor mistake in a spell could land a wizard in St. Mungo's, or worse. And yet, just as a master mathematician could use entirely different systems to arrive at the same correct answer, a master wizard could use a variety of different methods to achieve the same magical effect.
"Let me tell you about my own journey, Ryan," Professor Flitwick said, a nostalgic look on his face. "When I first learned the Levitation Charm, I believed one had to follow the instructions with absolute precision. When I had learned ten spells, I realized that a slight mispronunciation didn't seem to affect the result."
Ryan had to suppress a weary smile. For most wizards, learning ten spells was first-year level work. For Professor Flitwick, "learning" a spell probably meant he could multi-cast it flawlessly.
Flitwick continued, "When I had learned a hundred spells, I felt that creating and modifying spells was not so difficult after all."
Right, right, you're the professor, of course you're right, Ryan thought, his mind reeling. Is this what it's like in the world of true geniuses? I guess a pay-to-win player like me really can't compete.
"And then, one day," the Charms master finished, "I'm not sure when it was, perhaps after I had learned a thousand spells, or more… I realized that there had never been any 'spells' at all."
To have a sword and then forget the sword; to use a flower as a sword; to have a sword in your hand but no sword in your heart... The concepts from his past life flooded Ryan's mind. He could only manage an awkward smile. There was absolutely nothing he could take away from Flitwick's "intuitive" learning style.
He tried his best to grasp the professor's meaning. "Professor, are you saying that you found the common thread that runs through all spells—the core concept of using power to fulfill a wish?"
"By extracting that core concept, you can now cast magic without the need for formal spells?"
"Precisely!" Flitwick exclaimed. "Ten points to Ravenclaw! Though, your last statement is slightly incorrect. It is not that I cast magic without spells. It is that every time I cast magic in a way that is not in any spellbook, I am, in fact, creating a new spell."
"Filius is quite right," Dumbledore chimed in, starting to reminisce himself. "Creating and modifying spells is a simple matter. I believe I modified my first spell when I was in my third year." As he spoke, he waved his wand, and a ring of fire appeared around the four of them.
"Is that Incendio?" Hagrid finally found an opportunity to speak.
"It is, Hagrid. I'm glad to see you've been paying attention in class," Dumbledore said with a smile.
Seeing the basic fire-making spell transformed into a protective ring, Ryan, who had yet to invent a single spell of his own, felt a crushing blow to his ego. He glanced over at Hagrid's equally bewildered face and felt a small sense of comfort. At least I'm not the only dunce here.
As they were talking, a loud crashing sound echoed through the forest, growing steadily closer. The ground began to tremble, and they could see dust and leaves being kicked up in the distance.
Hagrid's bewildered expression vanished. He raised his crossbow and took aim. Ryan also gripped his wand, ready to cast another round of shields.
But after a long moment, no one appeared. The crashing sounds grew more and more distant, until they faded away completely.
"Headmaster… did he turn back?" The anti-climax was baffling. Had Voldemort had a sudden crisis of conscience and decided not to make Quirrell drink unicorn blood after all?
Hagrid stood there, unsure whether to keep his crossbow raised or lower it. "Dumbledore, should we… follow?"
Dumbledore and Flitwick exchanged a look, both equally puzzled.
"Hagrid, can you communicate with the unicorns?" Ryan asked. "I want to know if any of them were separated from the herd tonight."
"I can try," Hagrid said, shaking his head, "but it'll be difficult. Unicorns are proud, pure creatures. Only those with the purest of hearts can earn their trust."
Hearing this, Ryan—a student officially certified by the Sorting Hat for a dual-degree program at Azkaban and Nurmengard—wisely abandoned any thoughts of charming the unicorns with his sheer force of personality.
Hagrid lumbered off towards the herd, with Professor Flitwick trailing curiously behind him.
Ryan and Dumbledore were left alone, a strange, unreadable expression on both their faces.
A few minutes later, Hagrid and Flitwick returned with good news. "The lead stallion says that none o' the little 'uns snuck out to play tonight. Two of the adults are still out, but they haven't come back yet."
"Where are they?" Ryan asked.
"This way," Hagrid said, and charged off into the trees.
The group followed close behind, half-expecting to find a gruesome scene of silver blood and a unicorn's corpse.
"Just up ahead," Hagrid said, tearing apart a thicket of tangled branches with his bare hands. The four of them rushed through the opening.
The two unicorns, who had been lying on top of each other, sprang to their feet, their pure, innocent eyes filled with a mixture of shock and mortification.
"Sorry, excuse us, my apologies, please forgive us," Ryan rattled off in a single breath, grabbing Dumbledore and Flitwick and dragging them back through the opening. Hagrid, looking more confused than ever, was promptly kicked out by one of the unicorns.
Finally, in an atmosphere of unbearable awkwardness, Dumbledore broke the silence. "Thank you, Hagrid, for your assistance tonight."
"Fortunately," he added, his voice full of forced cheerfulness, "nothing happened tonight."