Anduin nodded, accepting the challenge. He raised his staff, settling his mind, and focused the core of his magical power. He didn't use the standard Protego but attempted the full, high-level Armor Charm (or Protego Totalum).
"Protect yourself!" he called out, his voice sharp and clear.
As the spell left his staff, his magic flowed, initially strong and focused, instantly coalescing into a shimmering, shield-like barrier at the tip. For a moment, the room was bathed in a pale, silvery light—the telltale sign of a successfully cast high-level Protective Charm.
However, the barrier appeared strangely weak; it never achieved the solid, shimmering density required for true defense. After only a few short breaths, the concentrated magical energy sputtered and dissipated, melting away like fragile bubbles.
Lily stared, a look of profound astonishment on her face. Her brother's initial attempt years ago had produced nothing but a wisp of smoke. Anduin had not only successfully articulated the spell's components and magical flow, but he had managed to form the barrier itself, however briefly. It showed a precision of control that was alarming for a first-year student.
At Lily's request, Anduin repeated the attempt a few more times. Each effort yielded the same frustrating result: the barrier would either flicker and vanish after a second or two, or it would sustain itself for a moment, weak and ineffective, before collapsing.
Lily quickly grasped the essence of his problem. She smiled, walking toward him, her wand now lowered.
"Your spell is technically perfect, Anduin," she confirmed, shaking her head in amazement. "Your magical control and the formulation of the incantation are spot-on. You are doing everything correctly. However, you are struggling to cast the spell successfully because of your current condition. And that, surprisingly, is perfectly normal."
Anduin furrowed his brow, lowering his staff. "The spell is good, the technique is correct, but it still fails? That seems contradictory. Is this normal for me, or for everyone?"
Lily sat him down, ready to explain. "It's normal magic theory, but it's often overlooked by younger wizards. Let me give you an analogy, since you are Muggle-born, you'll understand. Think of our magic, the actual flow from our core to the wand tip, as water flowing through a flexible hose inside your body."
She elaborated, drawing diagrams in the air with her finger. "When we cast a spell, it's like opening a valve. Our magical control is how we direct that hose, ensuring the water flows in the correct direction and at the right intensity. Your control, Anduin, is truly astonishing—you can direct the flow rate and intensity with the precision of a master regulator. That's why you can cast complex spells silently and with such subtle nuance."
"But there's another crucial factor," she continued, her expression serious. "That hose—the pathway for your magic—is literally your physical body, your core strength, and your magical maturity. The more robust your physical body is, the thicker the diameter of the magical pipe."
Lily emphasized the point. "The Armor Charm, Protego Totalum, is a high-energy, continuous defensive spell. It's designed to resist powerful curses and dark magic, including the pressure of near-Unforgivable Curses. To cast a powerful and lasting Armor Charm, you don't just need precise control; you need to inject a massive volume of magical power into the charm over a short period. Your 'pipe' is currently too narrow for that volume. Even if you fill a thin pipe with water, the volume of water exiting per second—the magical output—is too low to sustain a charm of that magnitude."
Anduin understood instantly. Lily's analogy made the complex mechanics of magical exhaustion and capacity brilliantly clear. It wasn't his magical pool that was the problem—his pool was deep—it was his magical throughput or output per unit of time. He simply couldn't push enough energy out fast enough to power a spell like Protego Totalum.
"So, to make my 'pipe' wide enough, or to generate enough magical output, how do I fix it?" he asked, his mind already racing ahead.
Lily smiled, pleased with his quick grasp of the concept. "The first and safest way is time. The 'pipe' is your physical body. As you grow older, your body naturally develops, your magical core matures, and your physique strengthens. Casting powerful spells with your current level of control will become exponentially easier as you physically develop."
She paused, then delivered the vital warning. "The second way, as you might have deduced, is to 'pressurize' it—to force the magic to flow faster through the thin pipe, like a high-powered water pump forcing water through a garden hose. This increases the flow rate and output, supporting the spell. However, I absolutely do not recommend this. Your difficulty casting the charm is your body's natural, protective warning. Forcing that magical flow is physically harmful. If the 'pipe' is too weak, it bursts—you risk physical and neurological damage, not just simple magical exhaustion."
"I see," Anduin muttered, his previous frustration replaced by a cold, analytical understanding. The barrier to high-power spellcasting was, in the short term, his age and physical constitution.
Suddenly, he remembered the Divine Edge Shadowless Magic he had been developing—a spell he knew was significantly more powerful and lethal than the Armor Charm, yet which he could cast without the same physical struggle.
If this Armor Charm demands such high output, but the Shadowless Magic doesn't feel nearly as draining, then the latter must be fundamentally different. He concluded that the Shadowless Magic must either operate on a far more efficient, low-volume principle, or, more likely, it was tapping directly into his magic core in a way that bypassed the safe, natural "pipe" of his body, making it even more dangerous and perhaps, in the long run, closer to the risk of "bursting the pipes" that Lily warned against. He mentally assigned the Shadowless Magic the highest possible danger rating.
He quickly dismissed the idea of forcing the Armor Charm. Self-harm was an irrational risk.
His next thought immediately returned to his body. If magical output was linked to physical constitution, then his long-term commitment to exercise and, crucially, to consuming powerful, magical sustenance—like the dragon liver and other creature meat he'd gotten from Hagrid—was the right path. He needed to accelerate his physical maturity, not just wait for it. He would have to cultivate his relationship with Hagrid even more diligently.
Since high-volume, continuous spells were temporarily out of reach, Anduin decided to shift his focus to pursuits that required precision and conceptual depth over raw power.
After explaining his conclusions, which only deepened Lily's respect for his intellect, Anduin proposed his new study plan.
"Since raw magical output is my bottleneck," Anduin said, standing up with renewed purpose, "I should focus on magical disciplines that rely more on knowledge and structure than sheer power. I want to start studying Ancient Runes and learn the theory behind Alchemy—specifically, how to craft tools that can store and redirect energy."
He also added two crucial, private subjects that only the most ambitious wizards attempted. "While I continue practicing my charms, I also want to begin learning the principles of Occlumency and Legilimency. I remember reading that Salazar Slytherin was a master Legilimens, and many great mind-wizards trace their lineage back to his methods. It seems like a worthwhile pursuit for a Slytherin."
Lily listened, a wistful shadow crossing her eyes as he mentioned the Slytherin connection and Legilimency. The mention of Legilimency, combined with his dark hair and sharp mind, caused a ghost of her old, complicated friendship with Severus Snape to flash across her memory. Snape, the great master of the Dark Arts and Occlumency, who had once been her closest friend...
She quickly shook the thought away, focusing on Anduin. "I am relieved you won't attempt to force the Armor Charm. That is a truly risky path," she said gently. "As for Runes and Alchemy, I can certainly help, but I must be honest—I'm not a Professor Flitwick! I wouldn't call myself a master of either discipline."
Anduin smiled warmly. "I don't think you need to be so modest, Lily. I've read the research materials and texts you left in the library, and anyone with a working knowledge of Runic Literature can tell you're highly proficient."
He gestured subtly to his chest where the protective amulet lay hidden. "Besides, I find that amulet you gave me to be extraordinarily useful. If I could learn to create magical items with even a fraction of the power and reliability of that charm, ward, and protective device you designed, I would be delighted."
Lily felt a pleasant flush of professional pride at his discerning praise. "Very well, then. We'll start with Runes, which forms the foundation of all practical spell-craft and magical device creation. We can use the Potter library texts as our curriculum. And while I may not be a Legilimency Master, I can certainly teach you the foundational techniques of Occlumency—how to shield your mind. That is a vital skill for anyone who plans to move in dangerous circles." She paused, her smile returning. "It seems we have a lot of studying to do this holiday, Anduin."