Leonard smiled in response before leaving the greenhouse.
After stepping outside, a black hole appeared at his fingertips, drawing in the small root fragment. Like potatoes, mandrake roots could be cut into pieces and replanted as seeds. The Magical Seed Bag recognized it as such and stored it away without hesitation.
Once he confirmed the root was secure, Leonard returned the deodorized fertilizer to his dormitory, then made his way to Professor Flitwick's office. He hadn't lied to Professor Sprout—he truly did plan to seek out Flitwick for guidance.
When it came to the practical use of charms, Leonard felt he needed advice from the former Duelling Champion.
Professor Flitwick was a goblin, but unlike the notoriously greedy ones, his passion lay in magic itself. He was also famously kind and patient with students.
At the door of the Charms office, Leonard knocked. A high-pitched "Come in" sounded from within, and he pushed the door open.
"Professor, I have a question I'd like to ask," Leonard said, getting straight to the point.
"Oh, you must be Mr. William from Hufflepuff. Go ahead, ask away," Flitwick replied warmly.
"I'd like to know more about the practical applications of charms," Leonard said, wearing the amiable, grounded expression expected of a Hufflepuff student.
Apart from Snape, most of the professors at Hogwarts were approachable. Building good relationships with them had its benefits. For instance, if Snape ever tried to accuse him of something, professors who liked him would raise doubts. Whether or not Dumbledore believed Snape, he would still show respect to the others.
"Questions about charms, is it? Ask anything you like. If I know the answer, I'll gladly explain." Flitwick gestured for Leonard to sit. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No need, Professor. They're just a few simple questions. I'll be on my way after—I have other matters to ask different professors as well," Leonard answered with a shy smile.
"You're very studious. That's excellent," Flitwick said, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "But I wonder, what sort of question requires you to consult other professors? I like to think I can answer most things."
As Head of Ravenclaw, he prided himself on being well-read.
"Questions about Transfiguration," Leonard replied, playing the part of a straightforward boy who wasn't especially savvy in social dealings.
"Transfiguration, hmm. While I'm competent in the subject, I'll admit Professor McGonagall is far better suited to answer your questions."
Flitwick nodded thoughtfully. "Now, tell me about your charms question. You mentioned applications?"
Leonard nodded. "While practicing the Lighting Charm, I realized that casting it suddenly in the dark can cause temporary blindness. That made me wonder if other charms might also have greater effects depending on the situation."
"A very sharp observation. I'm pleased you thought of that," Flitwick said with a smile. "But strictly speaking, this isn't a matter of Charms."
"It isn't?" Leonard asked, genuinely puzzled this time.
"Not exactly. Charms focuses more on theory—understanding the spell, learning how it works, and casting it through different methods." Flitwick poured himself a cup of tea. "What you're describing, the tactical use of spells, relates more to Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Leonard's expression grew odd.
"Yes. But it's no matter. Since you came to me, I'll still explain what I can. After all..." Flitwick paused, lowering his voice. "Professor Quirrell doesn't seem entirely... adjusted to life at Hogwarts. Perhaps he's spent too much time wandering abroad, and some habits linger."
It was clear Flitwick found Quirrell suspicious.
And truthfully, every professor should have noticed. A man who only read straight from the book without teaching properly—what use was that?
Even Snape, whom Leonard despised most, at least maintained a decent standard of teaching.
No, Leonard suspected Dumbledore had let Quirrell in on purpose.
"Never mind him. Let's talk about spells." Professor Flitwick lifted his wand. "The application of spells is an extremely flexible matter."
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The teacup rose smoothly into the air.
"This is the Levitation Charm. When students first learn it, they practice on very light objects like feathers, gradually moving on to heavier ones."
Flitwick's tone grew more detailed. "But that's really just a psychological trick for beginners. Within a normal weight range, this spell isn't hindered at all. Lifting a feather with it is no different from lifting a person."
As he spoke, the professor suddenly pointed his wand at Leonard, clearly intending to give him a closer demonstration.
"Wait—" Leonard froze, trying to stop him, but Flitwick's speed as Charms professor was ridiculous.
Before Leonard could react, the Levitation Charm struck him.
His first thought was, Oh, hell. Flitwick had been too quick, too decisive. And the Levitation Charm was such a simple spell that in Flitwick's hands, it was practically instantaneous.
But the ever-loyal Ancient Sprout swayed before Leonard could even process what was happening, instantly neutralizing the charm.
Unlike Legilimency, which could backfire when disrupted, the Levitation Charm was merely blocked—immune.
Even that, however, was enough to leave Professor Flitwick stunned.
The air grew awkward.
Leonard couldn't help thinking the Ancient Sprout's automatic defense was a little clumsy. Like now, cutting in at the worst possible moment and making Flitwick's demonstration look embarrassing.
"Sorry, Professor, I…" Leonard started to cobble together an excuse, but Flitwick interrupted with a sharp intake of breath.
"Is that… ancient magic?"
Leonard froze, as though a secret had just been exposed.
Ancient magic? Don't tell me this is something everyone knows about?
For a moment, he felt completely thrown off.
"I never imagined… I thought this talent had long vanished among wizards. Even someone like Dumbledore can't sense the presence of ancient magic."
Flitwick stood up, clicking his tongue in amazement.
"Sorry, Professor… I don't quite understand." Leonard decided to play dumb.
After all, he really didn't know anything about ancient magic. That was all the Ancient Sprout's fault.
"You carry the power of ancient magic. That is an unparalleled gift," Flitwick said with genuine wonder.
"Professor, do you understand this power well?" Leonard asked cautiously.
"Of course. Because I possess it myself." Flitwick lifted his wand, and a sliver of silver-white lightning flickered at its tip.
It lasted only an instant, but Leonard clearly felt it—that silver-white energy belonging to ancient magic. Even the Ancient Sprout stirred in recognition.
Yet something about it was different. Flitwick's magic didn't feel quite the same as his own. Maybe the difference was on his end. Maybe it was on the professor's.
Either way, the discrepancy made Leonard wary. He decided it was best not to bring up the ruins with Flitwick just yet.
"So, Professor, does this kind of magic have any special qualities?" Leonard asked.
"To be honest, I don't really know. No records mention this power. All I've been able to guess, from scattered clues, is that wizards capable of wielding ancient magic must have existed throughout history."
Flitwick sighed. "Forgive me, I got carried away. This magic is incredibly powerful. I can see you're a good child—so don't misuse it. Understand?"
"Uh… understood."
The so-called "good child," who spent most of his time plotting other people's deaths, nodded obediently.