"I see," Anduin said, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. "So, fundamentally, spells that impose direction or movement without altering the subject's core nature are rooted in Mannaz ('Control'). Spells that cause a fundamental, lasting change in form or essence are rooted in Laguz ('Alteration'). And elemental release spells, like the 'Water Clear as a Spring' charm or the 'Blazing Flames' charm, rely on their respective Elemental Runes as their base. Is that the primary triumvirate of magical foundations, or are there others?"
Professor Burns smiled, impressed by Anduin's capacity to synthesize complex theories into such clean, functional categories. "An excellent summary, and yes, there are other, more specialized, and ethically complex foundations. You've described the primary schools of Physical Magic. Beyond that, we delve into the magic of the intangible."
Burns picked up a piece of chalk and swiftly drew two more symbols on the slate: a complex, swirling design and a stark, angular symbol.
"The swirling symbol represents the Ansuz Rune, or 'Mind.' This is the foundation of all mental magic: memory charms, Confundus, Legilimency, and emotional manipulation. Its core meaning is 'Communication,' 'Thought,' and 'Divine Connection.' Spells built on Ansuz deal solely with the neural pathways and cognitive structures of sentient beings. They are inherently delicate, requiring immense finesse, as an error can cause permanent mental damage."
"The final symbol," Burns continued, his voice lowering to a somber, cautionary tone, "the angular, stark one—this is the Hagalaz Rune, or 'Soul.' Its meaning is 'Wasteland,' 'Destruction,' and 'Irreversible Change.' It is the foundation of the deepest, most complex, and most dangerous spells known to wizardkind. The Unforgivable Curses are Hagalaz-based. They function by bypassing the body and the mind, interacting directly with the soul's essence. This category is why such spells are universally banned; they are too potent, too difficult to counter, and their development requires such a profound violation of ethical boundaries that it taints the magic itself."
Anduin nodded slowly, his thoughts instantly turning to the implications for countering Dark Arts. The complexity of the Soul Runes made the development of effective anti-magic or counter-curses a near-impossible task—a reality that explained why spells like Avada Kedavra were so final and feared.
"Now that we have the full context," Burns said, returning to the runeworker's table, "show me this nascent Reverberation Spell. I need to see how you fused these functions."
Anduin, armed with his newly categorized understanding, went to work. With practiced ease that belied his age, he called up the necessary runic components and began arranging them in the testing array according to his theoretical model.
"My initial combination," Anduin explained, tracing the pattern, "starts with the core Mannaz ('Control') rune. Attached to it, I fused the Raido rune ('Sound') and the Gebo rune ('Broadcast') to generate the acoustic pulse. To manage the kinetic return, I used the Nauthiz rune ('Refine') and the Sowilo rune ('Sun,' used here for 'Energy Harvest') to capture and stabilize the echo."
He completed the sequence. The array glowed faintly on the crystalline surface—a beautiful, but ultimately inert, pattern.
Looking at the finished combination, Burns leaned in close, his thick beard brushing the crystal. After a moment, he smiled, but it was a smile of a teacher recognizing a fundamental mistake. "Have you tried this spell, Anduin? Given your control, I suspect you didn't just leave it as theory."
"I did," Anduin confirmed, a hint of professional disappointment in his voice. "After casting, the runic disk simply buzzed with a low-frequency hum. It generated nothing but noise. I received no echo feedback whatsoever, and the buzzing lasted less than a second."
"And what is your current hypothesis regarding the failure?" Burns asked, already knowing the answer.
"I believe the sound wave frequency isn't high enough," Anduin stated. "I am trying to simulate Muggle ultrasound, which requires a dramatically higher frequency than standard magic can produce without a specific modifier rune. I was hoping the combination of Raido and Gebo would naturally push the sound into the ultrasonic range, but it clearly failed."
"You are correct that the frequency is insufficient, but that is a symptom of the flaw, not the flaw itself," Burns corrected gently, pointing directly to a specific rune in the array. "The fundamental error is right here: the Nauthiz rune, 'Refine.'"
Anduin's heart skipped. "The Nauthiz rune? But it's meant to refine the incoming data—to filter the useful echo from the noise!"
"Exactly," Burns countered. "Your goal is to detect a radius of at least one hundred meters with the potential to scale up to a kilometer. Ultrasonic waves are ideal—fast, highly stable, and non-intrusive. However, think about what you are asking the Nauthiz rune to do. You are asking it to process the echoes from a 360-degree, spherical field, filter out atmospheric interference, and then present that massive volume of spatial data to you for interpretation. Nauthiz is a filtering rune; it is not an interpretation or visualization rune."
"What is the intended range, again?" Burns asked, already knowing the answer but wanting Anduin to articulate the scale of the problem.
"If optimized, I aim for detection capabilities within a kilometer radius," Anduin stated.
Burns whistled softly. "A kilometer radius. That's a reconnaissance range orders of magnitude greater than any known Extrasensory Charm. Even the most potent perception spells struggle to give clear, detailed feedback past seventy meters. So, let us move beyond the buzzing sound and assume you perfectly generated that high-frequency echo and retrieved the data. Now tell me, how do you intend to receive, process, and present that kilometer's worth of spherical information?"
The question hit Anduin like a physical blow. He realized his catastrophic oversight.
His ears would be useless. A kilometer of instantaneous echoes, even translated into a magical sense, would be overwhelming noise.
His eyes might be worse. If the visual center of his brain were suddenly flooded with a 360-degree, wire-frame rendering of every tree, stone, and concealed object in a square kilometer, it would utterly obscure his normal vision—a terrifying condition that might lead to magical self-blinding or permanent sensory overload.
Furthermore, his eyes could only look forward, creating a massive cognitive dissonance with the 360-degree data sphere.
"Professor," Anduin finally admitted, frowning deeply, "I hadn't considered the sensory mapping and interpretation phase. I was so focused on the generation and capture that I neglected the ultimate presentation."
Burns nodded, a look of validation in his eyes. "This is the difference between a brilliant theorist and a functional inventor, Anduin. The most ambitious spells fail not in the casting, but in the integration with the human element. Your idea is phenomenal; it is the perfect tool for identifying concealed targets, detecting enemies behind complex cover, or, as you brilliantly noted, locating individuals using a Disillusionment Charm or an Invisibility Cloak."
"We have two paths forward," Burns continued, laying out his strategy.
"The First Path: Mental Mapping." This involves finding a rune that can 'siphon' the sensory data directly into your cognitive network, bypassing your normal senses.
"I recall the principles of the Algiz rune, a 'Leech' variant, having a similar function for sensory feedback. But I must be frank: developing and testing a sensory-siphon spell is extremely dangerous. Any magical instability could lead to permanent neural corruption, or worse, an instantaneous overload that could leave you catatonic. It is too difficult to develop and too risky to test, and I strongly advise against it."
"The Second Path: Alchemical Translation." Burns pointed to the Nauthiz rune again.
"We break the spell into two modules. Module One (the spell) focuses solely on generating the pulse and capturing the echo—its output is a simple, raw magical data stream, not a visualization. Module Two (the tool) is a highly enchanted alchemical artifact—a mirror, a specialized lens, or even a pair of glasses—that is inscribed with the Interpretation and Presentation Runes. The tool receives the raw data stream and visually renders it onto the lens for you. This is safer, modular, and infinitely easier to refine, as you can swap out the magical component without risking your brain."
Anduin didn't hesitate. The thought of permanent neurological damage was enough to quash his scientific recklessness. "I understand. The second method—the Alchemical Translation—is the sound approach. It requires me to embrace my interest in Enchanting and Materials Science, but it dramatically reduces the risk of magical accident."
"An excellent decision," Burns said, beaming. "It is the choice of a functional engineer. We will need to study the Ehwaz rune ('Partner/Tool') to facilitate that spell-to-artifact connection. You will need to learn the properties of silver and specialized quartz for lens materials. That is enough for today. You have a mountain of research ahead."
The session had lasted hours, well past the Hogwarts curfew. Anduin left Professor Burns's office feeling mentally energized and physically drained. The books were heavy, but the intellectual satisfaction was heavier still. Burns was indeed a master, having given him more conceptual structure in one evening than he had acquired in months of solitary study.
I need a clear week of work in the library before the next session, he thought, calculating the complexity of finding all the necessary Othala (Conservation) and Ehwaz (Partner) rune failures and adaptations.
He began his quiet trek back to the Slytherin dungeons, mentally composing a list of necessary materials for the alchemical lenses. He was on the third-floor corridor, the silence of the night wrapping around him, when he suddenly heard a faint, furtive shuffling sound from the shadows near a suit of armor just behind him.
His immediate, ingrained response, honed by Lily's harsh training, bypassed conscious thought entirely. Silent, wandless, and instantaneous.
A wave of kinetic energy flared from his core, not in a visible flash, but as an invisible, compressed field of pure repellent force.
Just as two dark, cloaked figures lunged at him from the shadows, the repellent shield slammed into them. The figures were instantly repelled and thrown back against the stone wall.
They didn't hit with a clean thud; instead, the projectiles they were carrying exploded on contact with the barrier, sending a noxious plume of thick, yellowish-brown sludge and a truly horrific, sickly-sweet stench across the corridor.
Dungbombs. A professional curse, followed by a schoolyard prank.
Anduin instantly manipulated the air with a simple Mannaz rune application, creating a powerful, localized wind tunnel that funneled the filth and stench away from him and back toward the detonation point.
He ducked swiftly behind a thick stone pillar, his books clutched tightly, and scanned the empty hallway. The attackers—probably masked and cloaked—had already vanished, using the chaos and the choking odor as cover.
How utterly pedestrian, Anduin thought, a cold, almost surgical contempt replacing the surprise. The attack was too childish for a Death Eater, too clumsy for a true operative. It lacked the lethal intent of Rosier or Travers's true followers.
A distraction, or perhaps just simple intimidation. The most likely suspects, so early in the term, were Marcus Travers's small, loyal contingent of Slytherin thugs, trying to assert dominance or retaliate for some perceived slight from the previous year. They were pathetic, cowardly, and reliant on cheap, smelly tricks.
Anduin stepped out from behind the pillar, the air now clean, his face a mask of cold fury. This small, petty act of aggression had done nothing but interrupt a moment of profound intellectual breakthrough.