Chapter 19: Fluorescent Improvement, Exclusive Spell

As the standard incantation was recited, Shire did his utmost to maintain the stability of his magic output.

A soft light appeared at the tip of his ashwood wand.

It wasn't especially bright, but it was remarkably stable.

Professor Flitwick's expression showed surprise.

Then, after a moment of stunned silence, he began to applaud.

"Beautiful Lumos!"

"Hufflepuff earns three points!"

The Ravenclaws were visibly startled.

Even their top students could typically only earn a single point from Professor Flitwick—who was, after all, their own Head of House.

Why would he award three points to a Hufflepuff?

They turned to look at Shire's Lumos, then fell silent.

...Alright. It did look a little stronger than theirs.

But soon, confidence replaced their initial shock.

It wouldn't take long for them to catch up.

Meanwhile, the Hufflepuffs burst into applause for Shire.

Only Professor Flitwick's expression remained subtly complex.

He had actually paid attention to Shire during the last class. Back then, Shire's performance had been much less impressive.

Clearly, the boy had not only practiced outside of class, but had done so extensively.

Otherwise, there was no way his control over magic would have improved this much in such a short time.

This child isn't simple, thought Flitwick.

But alongside admiration, the professor also felt a trace of pity.

Talent can be cruel.

Hard work alone can only get one so far.

With effort, perhaps Lumos could be improved.

But more powerful Charms—say, the Patronus Charm...

No, that one was too advanced. Let's take the Shield Charm instead.

It seemed like a basic spell, but in reality, 90% of wizards throughout the magical world could never cast it successfully, not even those employed at the Ministry of Magic.

Even with Shire's diligence, bridging the gap that talent creates would be incredibly difficult.

The thought left Flitwick feeling uncomfortable.

As a professor, it pained him to see a hardworking student go unrewarded.

But talent—unless one came across the legendary potion that enhanced it—was out of his hands.

After a brief pause, however, Professor Flitwick made a decision.

While he couldn't change someone's innate gifts, he could still fulfill his role as a professor—to encourage and support students.

With a warm smile, he addressed the class.

"How about this?" he proposed. "In four weeks, we'll hold a small test focused on Lumos. The four young wizards who perform the best, or show the greatest improvement, or even demonstrate unique insights—each will receive a small Charm of their own, tailored by me."

The classroom erupted with excitement.

Lumos was already a fun and magical spell. But the idea of an exclusive Charm? That was irresistible to young wizards.

Even the Hufflepuffs buzzed with excitement.

A personalized Charm from Professor Flitwick?

That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Immediately, the classroom's energy surged. Every student became determined to master Lumos.

Shire, too, was deeply moved—but for a different reason.

When Professor Flitwick made the announcement, his eyes had lingered on Shire.

Shire understood.

Was it because of his lack of talent? Was this a gesture of encouragement?

Whether it stemmed from Flitwick's friendship with Professor Sprout, or a genuine desire to motivate a student, Shire felt deeply touched.

The warmth of this kindness reached his heart.

Hogwarts professors—aside from a few who preferred sarcasm and discouragement—were, for the most part, truly devoted to their students.

As for the reward Professor Flitwick offered, Shire pondered its potential.

A customized Charm from a Charms Master wasn't something easily obtained.

Only at Hogwarts—this so-called "Novice Village"—could young wizards be given such precious chances.

Sure, Professor Flitwick might agree to help if Shire asked directly, especially out of respect for Professor Sprout.

But that would be a favor.

This was different.

Winning the reward through his own ability would make it his.

That thought alone filled Shire with anticipation.

He didn't desire a personalized Charm just for the sake of it.

He knew that the spell Flitwick would design as a reward wouldn't be especially powerful. Nothing too flashy.

But that didn't mean it wouldn't be useful.

Take Lumos, for instance.

Aside from providing gentle illumination, most wizards saw it as useless.

But Shire knew better.

Magical illumination was actually ideal for growing certain magical plants.

Including the Goldfish Vine.

Extended exposure to Lumos could accelerate its growth.

This wasn't idle speculation—it was something Professor Sprout had already taught them.

Moreover, Shire had studied agriculture in his previous life.

He remembered how different light frequencies affected plant growth.

Some crops thrived under specific wavelengths of light.

He couldn't help but wonder: could magical plants have similar preferences?

Could Lumos, modified to emit a particular frequency of magical light, promote growth more efficiently?

Even if theories from the non-magical world didn't translate perfectly to the magical one, it was worth exploring.

If successful, he could boost the growth rate of Goldfish Vines even further—and in doing so, accelerate the improvement of his Magic Perception.

That would allow him to move on to cultivating stronger magical plants even sooner.

But for now, his magical skill was far too limited to alter even a simple spell like Lumos.

However, with Professor Flitwick's help, modifying it might actually be possible.

That was why Shire cared so much about the upcoming test.

"Four weeks, huh…" he murmured to himself.

"By then, the first batch of Goldfish Vines should have matured."

"My Magic Perception will improve significantly."

"And my casting of Lumos will also see a marked boost."

Still, Shire didn't assume he'd win.

Hogwarts had no shortage of prodigies and eccentric geniuses.

But that didn't mean he was underestimating himself, either.

Besides the benefits from the Goldfish Vines, Shire had another advantage: his unusually strong physical constitution.

Wand-waving was surprisingly tiring.

Most wizards' wands were at least ten inches long—not exactly light.

Young wizards, with their developing strength, could only swing their wands so many times before fatigue set in.

Practicing too much in a day could leave their arms sore and unresponsive.

But Shire was different.

To him, waving his wand felt like swinging through air.

There was no weight, no resistance.

As long as he didn't literally train himself to death, he could practice endlessly.

And that's exactly what he did.

From that day forward, Shire poured all his energy into practicing Lumos.

"Lumos!"

"Lumos!"

Over and over again.

Each time, Shire approached the spell with full concentration and serious intent.

At first, the Ravenclaws—known for their pride and dedication—tried to match him.

They practiced Lumos repeatedly, eager to compete.

But soon, their arms ached too much to continue.

They paused, breathing heavily, waiting for Shire to stop too.

But he didn't.

Shire kept going, never showing a hint of fatigue or boredom.

Wand after wand wave, the gentle light at the tip became brighter, steadier, more refined.

The Ravenclaws could only watch, stunned.

They stared, wide-eyed, with a single thought echoing in their minds:

"Is he… not tired?!"

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