Lily, her hand hovering over the shimmering runic projections, prepared for the demonstration. "This specific array—a precise, complex arrangement composed of the Aether-Path and runes of Uplift and Direction—is the blueprint for the Levitation Spell, Wingardium Leviosa."
She then touched the glowing projection with the tip of her wand. The runes surged with energy, pulsating with silver light. Instead of uttering an incantation, she simply channeled a steady stream of her own magical power into her wand, directing it through the array manifested on the workbench.
The magic flowed, not as a charm cast by voice, but as a pure, focused torrent of energy passing through the structured array. This energy then shot toward a heavy, nearby antique quill. Immediately, the quill rose into the air, hovering with the smooth, controlled stability of a perfect Levitation Charm.
Anduin watched, utterly captivated. Lily hadn't cast the spell; the runes had acted as a magical formula, converting raw, unstructured magical input into a specific, structured magical effect. It was far more intuitive and analytically clear than merely memorizing wand movements and incantations. He was witnessing the very foundation of Charms theory in action.
"The true power of the workbench is twofold," Lily continued, letting the quill drift gently to the desk. "It allows us to combine and test these arrays. But what happens if the magical array we create is unstable, too complex, or too dangerous to test immediately, or if the wizard crafting it isn't a master of Silent Spell-casting?"
She pulled what looked like a small, highly polished crystal sphere from a recessed holder on the side of the workbench. It glowed faintly, emitting a low, rhythmic pulse. She held it close to the silvery rune array hovering in the air. The array shimmered violently for a second, then was instantly absorbed into the crystal, which now glowed with a brighter, constant silver light.
Anduin realized the purpose of the rows of crystalline spheres lining the periphery of the workbench—they were not mere decoration, but highly advanced magical storage units for complex arrays.
"This is how we serialize the runes," Lily explained, handing the sphere to Anduin. It felt warm and vibrated slightly with the latent power of the stored Levitation array.
"Now, this array is contained and portable. We can test it safely elsewhere, or, most importantly for an alchemist, we can use this charged sphere to imprint the array onto a physical object, permanently creating a magical item."
Anduin's eyes widened, a deep fascination taking hold. This tool was essential. It offered a route to consistent, repeatable, and safe magical engineering.
Lily smiled, seeing the pure intellectual excitement in his expression. "You are welcome to use this workbench for the entire duration of your stay. It's linked to the entire Potter Runic library, which you can navigate by cross-referencing your rune dictionary. I will personally explain the most common and powerful combinations, including the Protection Rune and the Stress-Dispersion Array that form the core of the amulet I gave you."
"Really? Thank you so much, Lily!" Anduin exclaimed, his excitement barely contained.
Lily laughed softly, genuinely happy to find a student who shared her passion. She spent the next hour walking him through the proper use and safety protocols of the magnificent Rune Workbench, setting him up with introductory texts on Runic Etching and Alchemical Imprinting.
Later that afternoon, a flurry of owls arrived, bringing the Christmas gifts that had been delayed by Anduin's unexpected, dramatic change of address. He sat in the warm, quiet living room, opening the parcels one by one.
Vivian's gift, despite her dramatic complaint about his direct demand for presents, was predictably practical and thoughtful. It was a complete set of the "Collection of Magic Symbols", a highly valuable reference guide containing meticulous diagrams and conceptual breakdowns of nearly 500 of the most stable and useful Rune Symbols in existence.
It was exactly what he needed to begin his self-study on the Workbench. A perfect and efficient gift, he thought, slightly softening his cold appraisal of her.
Charles gifted him a worn, slightly crumpled poster of Ludo Bagman, the famous star Beater for the Wimbledon Hornets. Charles's accompanying card excitedly reported that the Mahjong tiles Anduin had gifted him had been an enormous hit, and that he'd spent the holidays successfully teaching his entire extended family how to play.
The poster, he explained, was his most prized possession, a true testament to their newfound friendship. Anduin, having zero interest in Quidditch, folded the poster neatly, appreciating the sentiment more than the object itself.
Professor McGonagall's gift was similarly Quidditch-centric: a thick, knitted scarf in light blue with a silver arrow motif—the colors of the Appleby Arrows, her favorite team. As a Slytherin, Anduin didn't expect much personalization, but he was intrigued by the card's note about the team's history.
He later conducted a brief query in the Potter library and found the astonishing history of the Appleby Arrows. Their most famous victory, the defeat of the reigning European champions, the Flazar Eagles, in 1932, had not been an afternoon match but an epic, marathon battle that lasted a full sixteen days.
He cross-referenced the archives twice. Sixteen days? That's not a sport; that's a siege, he concluded, his analytical mind boggling at the logistics of such an endurance match. The strange priorities of the magical world continued to baffle him.
Professor Flitwick, however, proved his most insightful academic ally. His gift was a pristine copy of "The Fifth Element: Discovery of the Sixth Grade Charms," accompanied by a personalized note.
The note explained that while this was technically a required text for sixth-year students, Professor Flitwick believed Anduin's dedication to advanced Charms and his recent achievements warranted starting it early. This was his second favorite gift, a validation of his fast-paced learning.
Professor Slughorn's gift, predictably, was a small, ornate bottle of Elixir to Induce Euphoria. Anduin was both amused and slightly annoyed. He suspected the Head of Slytherin had purchased these potions in massive wholesale batches to distribute in bulk every holiday. A nice gesture, but entirely impersonal.
Finally, Hagrid's gift was the most simple and yet the most immediately useful: a thick, warm leather cushion made from the fur of some unidentified, but incredibly soft, magical creature. It was luxuriously comfortable and radiating a subtle, cozy warmth. Anduin immediately placed it down and decided to use it for his next endeavor.
Having secured his academic goals with the Rune Workbench, Anduin turned his attention to his other critical pursuit: Occlumency. He sat cross-legged on Hagrid's fur cushion, grounding himself.
Occlumency, the practice of magically sealing the mind against intrusion, was detailed in two books he had acquired: "The Theory of Magical Defense" and "The Secret of Mental Resistance." The texts universally agreed that the spell, which requires no spoken incantation or wand movement, demands immense willpower and unwavering psychological discipline.
The process involves clearing the mind of all chaos, achieving a perfectly calm and peaceful state, and then circulating one's magical power with focused intent. This magical energy, unified with the wizard's powerful will, creates a mental envelope—a psychic shield—that protects the brain against Legilimency and other forms of mental intrusion.
For most wizards, this was incredibly difficult due to the required self-control. The books outlined three methods of learning:
Passive Practice: The most common method, involving a Legilimency Master repeatedly invading the student's mind, forcing them to passively experience the defense process until they learned to instinctively "shut down" their thoughts.
Anduin immediately rejected this. He would not expose his deepest secrets and private thoughts—especially those concerning his future plans and knowledge of future events—to anyone.
Potion Practice: A less common but effective method, where the student takes a powerful Sedative Draught to chemically suppress mental activity and achieve the requisite calm before attempting the magical shielding. Anduin had the necessary potions but preferred to avoid chemical dependence.
Self-Imagery or Visualization: The most difficult and least-attempted method. It requires the learner to achieve a complete state of mental emptiness before actively constructing a psychological defense structure—a mental landscape or an imagined defense mechanism, using pure thought and controlled magical flow. This method demands total cognitive and magical precision.
Anduin, with his immense magical control and his years of dedicated, rigorous meditation—a practice which had already honed his ability to organize and suppress stray thoughts—felt this last method was the most viable, despite its difficulty. It relied on his strengths: self-control and magical precision.
He recalled a specific technique mentioned in "Defense Against Magic": visualizing the self as an unyielding, powerful entity, such as a dragon or a mountain, and using the circulating magic to give substance to this mental image, filling the conscious mind entirely with the identity of the shield.
Closing his eyes, Anduin began. He cleared his mind, not merely by forcing thoughts away, but by systematically categorizing and filing every memory and plan into mental compartments, leaving his active consciousness an echoing, silent void. He drew his magical power from his core, circulating it in slow, controlled loops around his chest and up into his brain.
He focused his intent. He would not imagine a shield or a wall, for those were passive structures easily broken. He would imagine the architect of the defense itself.
Anduin began to visualize. He imagined a vast, cold, crystalline ocean, utterly silent and perfectly still. At the center of this ocean, standing on an island of black, unbreakable rock, was a figure. This figure was himself, but transformed.
Clad in black, silent armor, with eyes that glowed with the cold, silver light of pure magical law, he was the Sentinel—a watchful, unmoving presence, defined only by Logic and Control. This Sentinel's sole function was to regulate the flow of thought and annihilate any intrusive psychic force that did not belong.
The magic coursed, responding instantly to the disciplined visualization. It wasn't a sudden surge, but a slow, deliberate application of force, wrapping his mind in the nascent shell of his mental fortress. This was the only way to build a defense that was both impenetrable and uniquely his own.