Chapter 11.3- Doom Days

“The wand movement is a sharp jab.” He began, performing the jab without any incantation and letting us all have a view of it. “Now, your turn” he said to the class, and we all jabbed, more or less as one. As this was a NEWT class, there was no one who got that incredibly simple wand movement wrong. Those would have been sieved out either by the OWLs or the Sixth year classes which tended to be the hardest. He nodded as there were no surprises.

“The incantation is the extremely simple, Locomotor. It does you no help, or not much help in this spell. You will be the one pushing out your will and imposing it on the world.” He said, before waving his wand at a box towards one of the class’s corners and several figurines flew out almost of their own accord and arranged themselves perfectly on the tables. In one movement, he’d executed a complex levitation charm on multiple things at the same time. One swoosh of his wand, shaving off the usually required flick and no incantation. Yes, Filius Flitwick was indeed a charms master with little in the way of peers. Definitely better than the sod that had been teaching during Riddle’s years.

“Now you may use the spell on the figurine before you. After you successfully cast it, you must move on to attempting it silently.” He said before stepping off his desk in one smooth jump and landing on the floor and beginning to walk around the room.

I pointed my wand at the figurine of a ballerina mid twirl and called upon my intent to control, to dominate, almost like I was using the Imperius curse which Riddle had been a deft hand at even in his fifth year, and whispered, “Locomotor” while jabbing my wand forward. I was not surprised when the ballerina immediately fell under my control. I commanded it to straighten. And then I began to conduct it through a dance around my table.

“Ten Points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter” he said, and when I opened my mouth to reply, he cut me off.

“You might not wear their colours, but Hogwarts recognizes you as a Gryffindor, young man” I just nodded, realising that the argument was quite pointless. After all, what was the point of arguing it?

“Now attempt it silently” he said, while maintaining his position near my desk. I suspected that he thought I’d have some difficulty but I knew it would be anything but. I commanded the figurine to take its original position and then pulled my magic from it, dispelling the spell. Next, I jabbed my wand at it and without saying the incantation, not even thinking it in my mind because that was the crutch for lesser wizards, the figurine rose to life again and began dancing.

Flitwick erupted in applause, “Bravo. Bravo. What pure talent. Silent casting at fourteen” he said with a chortle and then next, “another twenty to Gryffindor is only fitting”.