r18novel Chapter 22 Discussion with Professor Flitwick
Chapter 22 Discussion with Professor Flitwick
The last rays of the setting sun shone through the arched skylight of the library, casting long shadows of the four boys. Karen rubbed her sore eyes, her grey-blue pupils reflecting the dense notes on the parchment. The quill ink smudged along the edges of the pages of "The Essence of Magic," like an abstract ink painting.
"If magic is a kind of life..." Karen murmured softly, her fingertips tapping lightly on the table.
"Then it definitely wants freedom!" Wesley suddenly looked up from the pile of books, his reddish-brown curly hair smeared with ink. He waved his wand, and a quill suddenly flew up and poked his own nose. "Ouch! See, even my wand won't listen to me!"
Fabian adjusted his glasses, a thoughtful expression on his bronze face: "The Ancient Philosophy of Magic mentions that the Druids believe magic yearns to be understood, just as a seed yearns to sprout..."
“Too sentimental.” Ernesto elegantly twirled his silver pen, his grey eyes sweeping across the bookshelf. “The Principles of Alchemy posits that magical energy follows the law of conservation; what it ‘desires’ is balance and order.” His long, slender fingers tapped lightly on the table. “Like the scales in my father’s laboratory.”
Karen's gaze shifted between her three roommates. The sky outside the window gradually darkened, and the library lights automatically switched on, casting a warm glow. Their discussion had continued since the afternoon, and the parchment on the table was now filled with various theories and conjectures.
"It's 6:50!" Fabian suddenly exclaimed, nearly knocking over the ink bottle. "Karen, didn't you have an appointment with Professor Flitwick at 8:00?"
The four boys frantically gathered their books. Wesley tried to use a levitation charm to help, but ended up sending a copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" chasing Ernesto all over the bookshelf, earning a stern look from Mrs. Pince.
"Let's go to the Great Hall first." Karen stuffed the last piece of parchment into her bag. "After we finish eating, I'll go straight to Professor Flitwick's."
When he rushed to the Great Hall, dinner was almost over. Karen hurriedly swallowed a few bites of beef pie and pumpkin juice, then hurried up to the eighth floor of the castle. The portraits on the corridor walls pointed at him, and an old witch wearing a nightcap muttered, "Students these days have no sense of time at all."
Professor Flitwick's office door was ajar, warm light streaming through the crack, accompanied by the soft sound of a harp. Karen straightened her wind-blown robe and gently knocked on the oak door.
"Come in, Karen!" Professor Flitwick's voice came from behind a pile of floating books. "I'm tuning a newly invented musical spell. What do you think of the timbre?"
Karen carefully navigated the floating stacks of books, feeling the office was incredibly cramped. The walls were covered with moving magical charts, and Professor Flitwick stood atop a pile of books, the tip of his wand gleaming like pearls.
"Try this, the kitchen's new blueberry shortbread." The professor waved his wand, and a plate of pastries flew to Karen. "I heard you two spent the whole day in the library discussing Professor Victor's assignment?"
Karen nodded, took a bite of the shortbread, and the sweet fruity aroma immediately burst in her mouth: "Yes, we have many different opinions about the issue of magical will."
"Ah!" Professor Flitwick's eyes lit up, and he gently sat down on the specially made low chair. "That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. The question in class today, I can only say, is very Ravenclaw-esque." He winked slyly. "I asked a similar question sixty years ago, and the Charms professor at the time made me copy the 'Safe Spells Handbook' three times as punishment."
Karen's fingers unconsciously traced the shape of her wand. "Professor, I didn't mean to..."
“I know, child,” Professor Flitwick interrupted him gently, his eyes gleaming with wisdom. “But it is precisely this way of thinking that sets great wizards apart. Rowena Ravenclaw himself often said: ‘Thirst for knowledge, think carefully and discern well.’”
He waved his hand gently, and an ancient book flew down from the shelf, landing on Karen's lap. It was "The Will of Magic: From Spells to Souls," its spine tattered, appearing to be several centuries old.
"This book is only available to professors," Professor Flitwick said with a mysterious wink, "because it explores issues that are far too dangerous."
Karen carefully turned the title page, and a passage written in gold ink came into view:
"Those who understand the nature of magic must bear an equal weight of responsibility. — Rowena Ravenclaw"
Moonlight streamed through the stained glass window, casting shifting shadows on the book's pages. Karen suddenly remembered something: "Professor, do you think there's any connection between magic and emotion?"
"A brilliant question!" Professor Flitwick clapped his hands excitedly, almost slipping off his chair. "Let's analyze it with two examples: Obscurus and Peeves."
He took a crystal bottle from the shelf, inside which a wisp of black mist struggled: "This is stripped Obscurial energy. When wizard children suppress their magical abilities, negative emotions distort and deform the magic, which shows that magic responds to our emotions."
“And Peeves,” the professor continued, pointing to a clock-like device on the wall, “is essentially the embodiment of the castle’s collective emotions, possessing both mischievous playfulness and a commitment to upholding Hogwarts traditions—how wondrous!”
Karen's "Eye of Truth" activated unconsciously. In his vision, the two magical entities appeared in completely different forms: the Obscurus was a chaotic dark red vortex, while Peeves' energy was a leaping silver-blue dot, resonating with the ancient magic of the castle.
"So magic can indeed 'feel'?" Karen asked tentatively.
“More precisely, it’s ‘resonance.’” Professor Flitwick poured himself a cup of honey tea, the teaspoon stirring automatically. “Like the connection between a wand and a wizard, magic resonates with specific emotional states. But the final decision,” he tapped his chest gently, “is here.”
The conversation continued late into the night. As Karen prepared to leave, Professor Flitwick suddenly slapped his forehead. "Ah! I almost forgot something important!" He took a piece of parchment from his drawer. "Professor McGonagall has approved your application for classroom use. This is the permit."
Cullen took the parchment, which bore the official seal of Hogwarts. "Thank you so much, Professor! This will be of great help to our research."
"Make good use of it." Professor Flitwick winked. "I had a secret laboratory when I was young, where I invented three new spells!"
Leaving Professor Flitwick's office, the castle was already asleep. Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the corridor, casting dappled patterns on the floor. He walked slowly back to the Ravenclaw Tower, the evening's discussions echoing in his mind.
The subtle connection between magic and life, and between magic and emotion, is like a complex symphony, each note containing infinite possibilities. Perhaps next Wednesday's meeting with Professor Victor will help him further understand this connection. But for now, Karen just wants to digest what she's learned tonight.
Fortunately, the entrance to the Ravenclaw lounge was near the office, and Karen quickly returned to the Ravenclaw lounge, avoiding a collision with Filch.
The lounge was empty, with blue curtains swaying gently in the night breeze. Inside the dormitory, the three roommates were already asleep.
Karen quietly changed into his pajamas and slipped into the four-poster bed. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting silvery ripples on the calm surface of the Black Lake. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts for the night settle.
In the hazy state before falling asleep, he suddenly thought: if magic could truly sense, then at this moment, was it also watching this boy who was trying so hard to understand it? With this thought in mind, Karen drifted into a peaceful dream.