Alister lost himself in the study of runes. The hours melted away, a silent passage of time marked only by the turning of pages. He didn't notice the library emptying, or the afternoon sun giving way to twilight gloom. He only looked up when a low, rumbling sensation of hunger reminded him that his body still had basic needs.
He left the library and made his way to the Great Hall, which was now filled with the low hum of dinner. The hall was a symphony of sounds: the clatter of silverware, the murmur of conversation, the roar of laughter from the Gryffindor table.
He walked through the hall, his gaze fixed ahead. He saw the Slytherin table—Enzo Nott and the other students from his house, a sea of green and silver. But he didn't stop. He continued walking, his steps measured and confident, past his own table and toward the Ravenclaw table.
The hall fell into a low, quiet murmur. Heads turned. Eyes filled with shock, confusion, and a hint of contempt followed his every step. A Slytherin walking past his own house to sit with the Ravenclaws—it was a social transgression, a violation of the unspoken rules of the castle. But Alister, a man who had faced death and wielded true power, had no regard for irrelevant rules set by others.
He reached the Ravenclaw table and sat down in the empty seat next to Cho, his mind still processing the runes he had just read. Cho looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Alister! What are you doing?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. He simply began to eat, his gaze fixed on his food, completely ignoring the stares and whispers that followed him.
The hurried whispers and curious gazes of students and professors washed over him like a distant tide. He finished his meal—a quiet, deliberate act—and then stood up. The scraping of his chair against the stone floor seemed to echo in the sudden hush that had fallen over the Great Hall.
He walked past the Slytherin table, his own housemates' faces a mixture of confusion and contempt. He walked past the other tables—past the bewildered Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and past the still-whispering Ravenclaws.
As long as his magic, his true power, remained secret, he wouldn't care about social conventions. He just needed to become stronger fast enough that he wouldn't even have to deliberately hide his magical talent.
Alister returned to the Slytherin common room, the echoes of the feast still a faint hum in his ears. He entered his dorm—a spartan chamber with two beds and a single window looking out onto the bottom of the lake. He walked to his desk and pulled out the book on runes, his mind returning to his work.
Time passed. The glow of the runes on the page was his only light as he absorbed the information, the symbols, and the intricate theories of their application.
He only looked up when a sudden, loud creak from the bed next to him reminded him he wasn't alone. Enzo was asleep, his breathing a slow, even rhythm. Alister packed his things with quiet haste. Now was the time to explore. He had to find a private space—a place to conduct his research and experiments without prying eyes.
He walked out of the dorm, passing Enzo, who remained peacefully asleep. He moved through the common room and out into the empty corridors. The castle at night was a different beast—a silent, vast, echoing labyrinth.
He raised a hand and, with a simple act of will, cast a spell he had learned from a library book. His body shimmered, and then he was gone. The Disillusionment Charm had rendered him nearly invisible. He continued his walk, his steps silent and precise.
He walked past Filch, the castle's caretaker, who was patrolling with his cat, Mrs. Norris. The cat's eyes glowed faintly in the dark, and its ears twitched as if sensing something, but the squib and his familiar passed without incident.
Alister continued his search for an abandoned room.
He walked for a long time, exploring empty corridors and deserted classrooms. The castle was simply too vast to be fully utilized. Many of its rooms were empty, abandoned, and forgotten by time. He finally found one—a small, dusty chamber that seemed to have been forgotten for decades.
The air was thick with dust and the smell of old wood. He walked in and, with waves of his hand, levitated the debris and cleaned the room with silent efficiency. The dust and cobwebs, the debris and dirt, all swirled into a single compact ball and vanished—a perfect, flawless act of magic. The room was clean, a blank canvas for his work.
Alister took out the things he had acquired on his shopping trip. From his expandable pocket, he pulled out a small worn bag filled with gold and a few pieces of plain, untreated wood. The wood was simple, but for what he was about to do, it was all he needed. He also took out his books—a tome on runes and an old, leather-bound volume on magical theory. He laid them on the floor, the pages silent guides for his work.
He sat down on the floor, his back against the cold, damp stone wall. He held a small piece of wood in his hand—a blank canvas for his work. He had learned the runes, memorized them, but now he had to make them part of him, part of his magic. He had to make them a physical, tangible force.
The magical energy within him, under his perfect control, obeyed. It moved through his body, down his arm, and into his hand. The wood began to glow with a faint white light.
He began to carve. The runes he had learned were simple, but their application was complex. He started with Fehu, the rune of wealth and power, its simple two-lined form a testament to its meaning. He didn't need a carving tool. The magic flowed from his fingertips, a razor-thin beam of light that carved the rune into the wood with perfect, clean precision. The wood did not splinter or crack.
He moved on to the next rune, Algiz, the rune of protection. Its intricate, trident-like form was a test of his control, but his hands were a perfect reflection of his will. The rune was a flawless representation of its meaning. He worked for hours, his mind processing the runes, their meanings, and their applications. He was not just carving; he was learning a language, making it part of himself.
He only looked up when a faint chime from the castle's bell tower told him it was midnight. He had been working for hours, and the floor around him was littered with wood pieces, each one bearing a perfect, flawless rune that glowed faintly with residual magic.
Alister gathered his belongings—the books and the carved wood pieces—and walked out of the room. He made his way back to the Slytherin common room. Enzo Nott was still asleep, peaceful and undisturbed. Alister walked to his bed and fell asleep with a feeling of satisfaction for the progress he had made.
The Next Day
The next day, Alister had only one class: Charms, held in a bright, airy classroom on the fourth floor. The room was a stark contrast to the cold, damp dungeons of the previous day. The walls were lined with shelves filled with strange objects, and gentle light from the windows bathed the room in a soft, golden glow.
Alister took a seat in the back of the classroom, his gaze fixed on the teacher—a short, diminutive man with a kind, friendly face, standing on a stack of books, his tiny body a silhouette against the light. Professor Flitwick.
"Welcome, class!" Professor Flitwick said, his voice high and enthusiastic. "Today, we will be learning a very simple charm, a charm that will be the foundation for all your future spells. The Levitation Charm, or Wingardium Leviosa!"
He demonstrated the charm, his wand a blur of motion as he chanted the incantation. A small feather on his desk began to float in the air in a silent, graceful dance.
Soon, Professor Flitwick distributed a feather to each student.
Alister simply took out his wand and pointed it at the feather on his desk. He chanted the incantation, his voice a low murmur, and flicked his wrist. The feather began to float in the air, perfectly controlled and graceful.
Professor Flitwick looked from the floating feather to Alister, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "A perfect casting, Mr. Potter! Five points to Slytherin!"
The rest of the class, however, was no longer surprised by Alister's prowess and continued their own attempts after a brief glance.
Having completed the task in a matter of seconds, Alister now had the rest of the hour to spare. His mind turned to his own deeper purpose.
His gaze drifted from his own feather to the other students. He watched as they struggled, their faces a mixture of concentration and frustration, their wands twitching and their incantations whispered with varying degrees of confidence. He saw a boy's feather fly a few inches before crashing back down. He saw a girl's feather simply refuse to move.
But as he watched, he noticed something else—something he had glimpsed before in the Potions classroom but had dismissed as a simple side effect of magical exertion. This time, however, he saw it with newfound clarity. He could see the magic itself: a faint, golden light flowing from the surrounding air into their bodies.
For everyone around him, magic was being attracted to them and flowing into their bodies as they practiced. He looked at Cho, who was still struggling with her feather, her face a mixture of concentration and frustration. The magic—a faint, golden current—was flowing into her body and being absorbed, thereby increasing her magic power incrementally. But it was just a tiny, insignificant trickle. The rest, a vast, swirling sea of power, was simply escaping from her body, dissipating into nothingness.
He then looked at the other students. He could see the same phenomenon happening with them all. He had noticed this happening with himself, but he had dismissed it as a simple limitation of his body. But now, he saw that it was not a personal flaw, but a systemic flaw in the entire magical system.
System, he thought, analyze what I'm observing. Why is magical energy being wasted?
The System's voice was immediate.
[Analysis: Magical energy absorption during spell practice is inefficient in current magical practitioners. Average efficiency: 3-5%. Cause: Lack of proper magical circulation techniques and degraded understanding of energy cultivation. This inefficiency contributes to the world's declining magical state—energy is expended but not properly recycled or retained.]
Alister's eyes widened. This was it. This was part of the problem. The world wasn't just losing magical knowledge—it was losing magical energy itself because wizards couldn't properly absorb and retain it.
The bell for the end of class rang, a loud, clear sound that snapped Alister out of his deep contemplation. He looked up, his gaze unfocused, and saw that the classroom was nearly empty. Cho was standing beside him, a concerned look on her face.
"Are you okay, Alister?" she whispered. "You were completely zoned out."
Alister nodded, a faint smile on his face. "I'm fine. Just... a lot to think about."
He walked out of the classroom, his mind racing. The rest of the day was a blur. He had lunch, but barely tasted it. He walked through the castle, but barely saw it. His mind was elsewhere, in a world of leaking magic, wasted energy, and a fundamental flaw in the very foundation of the wizarding world.
He spent the rest of the day in the library, pouring over books on magical theory. He processed every word, every diagram, every theory. He found nothing. There was no mention of magical leakage, no mention of wasted energy, no mention of the problem he had just discovered. It was as if no one had ever noticed it—or perhaps, the knowledge had been lost.
As the sun set, he made his way to the abandoned room he had claimed as his own, his mind full of ideas. He took out his books on runes and his pieces of wood, his hands working with perfect precision.
He had discovered one of the root causes of the world's decline. Now he just needed to find a solution.
And he would. No matter how long it took.
(END OF CHAPTER)
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