Professor Burns watched with a slight, amused smile as Anduin remained standing, utterly mesmerized by the sophisticated equipment in the office.
"Please, Anduin, have a seat," Burns said gently, gesturing toward a heavy, comfortable armchair pulled up near his desk. "I may be eager to see your work, but I'm afraid I cannot discuss the fusion of complex magical arrays on an empty stomach."
Anduin quickly took the seat, but his eyes continued their systematic survey of the room. His focus immediately locked onto a large, complex piece of machinery against the far wall—a fully operational runeworker's table. It wasn't just functional; it was a pinnacle of magical engineering. Dominating the surface were three distinct rows of shimmering, perfectly spherical crystal orbs, clearly dedicated to calibration and experimental testing.
"Do you recognize that workbench?" Burns asked, his voice laced with faint surprise. The equipment was astronomically expensive, costing thousands of Galleons, and typically only found in the workshops of dedicated runic scholars or specialized artisans. He hadn't expected a second-year student to even know the name of such a device, let alone recognize its advanced model.
"Yes, Professor," Anduin replied, not bothering to hide his admiration. "I stayed at Lily and James's house over the Christmas break. They have a runeworker there, a slightly older model, but that's where I first started to seriously study runes. Yours is far more advanced, particularly the crystalline lattice for field projection."
Burns raised his thick, dark eyebrow, his surprise growing. "I see. You are progressing faster than Lily indicated, then. So how, precisely, are you continuing your practice with magical runes here at school? Surely you don't carry the Weasleys' entire table with you?"
Anduin reached into the pocket of his linen robe, carefully extracting a circular, highly polished piece of wood inlaid with silver filaments. The rune disk—a gift from the Potters—was a precious tool for layout and theoretical planning. It was his most valuable possession, one he carried with him almost every day.
"I use this," Anduin said, holding up the disk.
Burns nodded slowly. "A fine artifact. Not quite as valuable as a full crafting table, but still worth several hundred Galleons. It's not the sort of thing a student just happens to purchase."
"It was a gift from Lily and James, along with a spellbook of advanced rune theory," Anduin confirmed, a touch of pride in his voice.
"I've mastered most of the basic and intermediary arrays from that book, and now I'm focused on planar runes—how to create overlapping, multi-layered effects. Beyond that, I spend most of my time trying to deconstruct existing runes to isolate their core mathematical principles, and then try to re-assemble them into novel combinations."
Burns stopped chewing. He had to reconsider his assessment of the boy. Second year. Most wizards only began the Ancient Runes elective in third year.
For Anduin to have such a detailed, practical understanding of planar structures and deconstruction theory—the advanced work of fifth or sixth year students—was borderline impossible. It required exceptional magical control, intellectual rigor, and an inherent sensitivity to raw magical energy.
Burns hastily finished his meal, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he walked toward the boy. The academic curiosity was now replaced by professional intrigue.
"Stand up for a moment, Anduin," Burns instructed, his voice now crisp and commanding. "Try to catch this."
As he spoke, Burns opened his right hand. A small, perfectly spherical ball of light materialized, glowing with a soft, steady intensity. With a gentle, controlled push of energy, the ball floated across the desk toward the young wizard.
Anduin instantly activated his own magic, not just reaching out, but projecting a delicate, almost invisible thread of magic to meet the incoming orb. He cupped his hands and caught the ball of light, holding it firmly.
Anduin immediately sensed something unusual: the orb emitted no discernible warmth, yet the sheer density of the magical power contained within it was significantly greater than a standard Lumos Solem—the simple 'Fluorescent Blink' charm—even though its external brightness was comparatively dim.
"Eh!" Anduin let out a small, sharp exclamation of surprise.
Burns, who had been watching for any tremor or instability in the boy's grasp, was astonished at the ease with which Anduin controlled the light sphere. "What happened? Did you find something amiss?"
"Yes," Anduin said honestly, frowning in concentration. "When I stabilized this ball of light, I could perceive that it contains an unusually high concentration of infused magic, almost overloading its containment structure, yet its luminosity is lower than even a weak Lumos. How is the output so diminished despite the density?"
Burns felt a momentary, cold chill travel down his spine. "You can feel the magic within the magic? The density of the infusion?" he asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice. That level of sensitivity was rare even among veteran Aurors.
To test this unsettling claim, Burns lit another ball of light, this one dazzlingly bright, casting sharp shadows across the room. "Now, feel this one."
Anduin obliged, reaching out and grasping the second sphere. He carefully probed it with his own external magic, and this time, he exclaimed in genuine surprise: "Incredible! This sphere is intensely bright, yet it contains significantly less raw magical content than the first! It's radiating energy almost inefficiently. How did you manage to manipulate the fundamental energy-to-luminosity ratio with such precision?"
How did I manage it? I want to know how you are able to perceive and analyze external magic with such ease! Burns thought, a frantic storm of professional and intellectual confusion brewing beneath his calm exterior.
It is functionally impossible for someone your age to possess this level of magical tactile sense! The thought, utterly alien to conventional magical theory, crossed his mind: Could this child somehow not be human? Some kind of extraordinary hybrid creature?
Anduin, entirely unaware that he had just inadvertently triggered a complete re-evaluation of his physiological makeup, was too engrossed in the magical phenomenon to notice. He began to gently attempt to weigh the two spheres in his hands, using his own refined magic to penetrate their structures and analyze the forces holding them stable.
Under the influence of Anduin's intrusive external magic, the brighter, low-magic sphere became immediately unstable. It flickered violently and winked out with a soft poof. The denser, dimmer sphere persisted longer, its robust structure resisting the interference before slowly fading away after a few more seconds.
"I see it now," Anduin concluded, talking more to himself than to the Professor. "Your technique trades efficiency for stability. Less magical power but higher brightness means shorter duration and lower structural stability. Conversely, higher magical density but lower luminosity creates a far longer duration and a stronger structural integrity. This is an amazing application of control."
Burns could only stare, dumbfounded. He had watched Anduin, with the finesse of an ancient master, not only manipulate two spheres of light he had created but also accurately deduce the complex theory behind their differential composition—all based on feeling the internal magical flux. Lily had undersold the boy's ability by orders of magnitude.
"Anduin," Burns said, his voice now carrying a deep, unfeigned respect. He gestured toward the desk. "Please, sit down. We need to talk before we look at your schematics."
Once both were seated, Burns adopted the serious tone of a mentor addressing a protégé with unique gifts. "Do you know why I had you handle those two spheres of light just now? You've analyzed the composition perfectly, but that wasn't the main test."
Anduin considered the question for a moment before replying, "You wished to test my understanding of the relationship between runic infusion and magical output, correct? One was optimized for power storage—the denser sphere—and the other for maximum visual output, making it less robust."
Burns shook his head slowly. "No, Anduin, that was a happy accident of my own experimentation. The reason I had you catch the first one was far simpler. I wanted to see if you could hold it at all. Only wizards with exceptionally strong and natural control over their own magic can easily and instantaneously stabilize a foreign magical construct like that. Most young wizards either crush the ball of light with their innate volatility or fail to contain it entirely. The fact that you felt the internal structure was the real anomaly. After you mentioned that, I consciously readjusted the magic rate and runic pattern of the second sphere to give you a chance to perceive it."
Anduin felt a sudden, cold realization wash over him. His behavior, which felt normal to him, was apparently a profound deviation from the norm. "Professor," he asked, his voice carefully neutral. "Is there something unusual about my magical control? Something you would classify as... abnormal?"
"That is the precise word, yes: abnormal," Burns admitted frankly, though without judgment. "You are aware, I'm sure, that most underage wizards, due to simple physiological reasons and the lack of practice, have very weak magical stability and control, correct? You learned this in Charms, perhaps, or even from Professor Flitwick during your dueling club exercises?"
Anduin nodded, remembering the general theory about the turbulent, unrefined magic of youth.
"Correct," Burns affirmed. "And that is why the study of advanced runes and delicate spellcraft requires strong magical control. Runes, especially experimental applications like what you are attempting, are highly sensitive; the slightest lack of internal stability can lead to rapid decay or a spectacular accident."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Historically, in ancient times, the Runes elective was offered only after the third year for this exact reason. It wasn't just the course difficulty; it was the consensus that a wizard's natural control and stability only mature past the age of thirteen.
He continued, "You, Anduin, demonstrate a level of innate, refined control that would be impressive in an accomplished adult, let alone a second-year student. Your magical core is not merely strong; it is unnaturally stable. That gift is what makes your theoretical work feasible."