Ever since he accidentally overheard Quirrell and the locket-version of Voldemort talking, Wade stopped frequenting isolated, deserted spots. When he didn't have classes, he mostly stayed in the Umbrella Room. Fortunately, Michael's enthusiasm for Quidditch had finally waned—probably because Ravenclaw lost to Hufflepuff in a match and two students were injured, making Quidditch seem less interesting to him.
During Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, Wade paid close attention to Quirrell. When facing students, Professor Quirrell was still the same timid, pathetic Quirrell. When a mischievous student asked about the incident where he fell in the stands, he just awkwardly and stammeringly said, "I—I didn't notice—it seemed like—it seemed like—someone pushed me—"
The students all looked disbelieving—which student would dare to play a prank on a professor? They all thought Quirrell must have been too excited and lost his footing, but was too embarrassed to admit it.
Of course, no one would suspect Wade of this; he had always been considered a model student by everyone—respectful of professors, diligent in his studies, never causing trouble, a typical Ravenclaw.
After class, Padma quickly packed her bag and excitedly ran over to ask, "Going to the Umbrella Room to do homework?"
Quirrell wasn't a great teacher, but his homework assignments were almost as demanding as Professor Snape's; they always required essays over a foot long, which was a headache even for Ravenclaw students.
However, after studying in the Umbrella Room for a while, Padma felt like she had found the secret to writing essays, and even enjoyed it. Perhaps it was because after finishing her homework quickly, seeing other students groaning about how much homework they had, how difficult it was to write, and scratching their heads in frustration, the inflated sense of superiority brought her immense joy.
Wade had seen her chatting with people in the Great Hall more than once—
"How much homework do you have left?"
"Hmm? Still so much not done? I finished my essay in only forty minutes yesterday. It felt pretty simple, didn't it? How come you haven't even written the introduction? Were you not listening carefully in class?"
After a few times, everyone stopped wanting to talk to her, so Padma was always with her sister. But judging from Parvati's expression, the reason she tolerated Padma's showing off was to "reference" her homework.
Wade was tempted to tell her not to be so boastful, but Michael gazed steadily at the smile on Padma's face at the other end of the long table, then said, "Don't you think she's cute like this? It's like her whole face is saying, 'Aren't I amazing?' and 'Come praise me!'"
He chuckled unconsciously, "Both silly and smart—like a little kid."
...Alright then.
Wade swallowed what he was about to say.
He wondered if his own mindset was too old, too pragmatic in his thinking, which was why he couldn't appreciate such a silly, adorable trait in a little girl.
Padma was excitedly looking forward to going to the Umbrella Room, but behind her, Michael was winking at Wade, hinting.
Wade glanced over, then turned his gaze back and said, "You two go ahead. I have a question I need to ask Professor Flitwick."
Michael was overjoyed, gave a thumbs-up, and then wiggled it twice, indicating thanks.
Padma was a little disappointed: "—Alright."
The two left together, and Wade packed up his things and headed to the seventh floor.
He wasn't intentionally creating an opportunity for Michael; he genuinely had something to ask Professor Flitwick.
Professor Flitwick's office was on the seventh floor, and generally, students didn't climb such high floors, so it was very quiet. In the long corridor, only the portraits occasionally murmured.
Speaking of which, Wade had never seen another portrait as lively as Griffiths. Most of the portraits in the castle often just stretched or turned their heads; some he had never seen leave their frames.
Like Miss Claudia.
Wade arrived at an oak door, on which an eagle was carved. It saw Wade, flapped its wings, and seemed to say to itself, "Weide Grey has come to visit."
A moment later, it said again, "Permission to enter."
The oak door slid open, and Wade walked in.
Professor Flitwick's office style was exactly like the Ravenclaw Tower—the room had an arched structure, with thirteen windows around it, offering views of the Ravenclaw Tower and the Owl Tower. Sunlight filtered through the colored glass, casting dappled light and shadows on the floor.
Most of the furniture in the room was miniature, just right for Professor Flitwick's height. Only the bookshelves were exceptionally grand; hundreds of books were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, and thick piles of parchment were stacked on the floor, most of which were Professor Flitwick's own organized notes. He sometimes lent them to his favorite students, and Wade's bag currently held two such books.
"Oh, Wade."
Professor Flitwick's voice came from above. Wade looked up to see the professor standing on a tall, automatically gliding ladder. The ladder retracted section by section, finally becoming a low step, and Professor Flitwick jumped directly down from it.
He said happily, "I was very pleased with your essay on the Softening Charm. My boy, do you have any new questions today?"
"Yes." Wade took out the notes he had borrowed earlier and said, "I've finished learning all of Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three, and I'd like you to test my level."
"No problem, hmm... cast a Cheering Charm first!" Professor Flitwick said.
Over the next period, Wade demonstrated about a dozen spells learned in third year, all of them successful on the first try, making Professor Flitwick so excited he almost fainted!
"Oh, Wade! Oh, Wade! You are absolutely a genius!" He said repeatedly, "It's only been three months! I've watched you go from knowing nothing to this level today! Your progress is too fast! At this rate, you'll reach O.W.L.s level in less than a year! You're definitely going to become someone great!"
Wade smiled and said, "Professor, I'd like to borrow the fourth-year textbooks and notes."
"Of course. I've had them ready! I knew you'd definitely finish learning before the Christmas holiday." Professor Flitwick waved his wand, and several books flew from the table. They were Professor Flitwick's own worn copy of Standard Book of Spells: Grade Four, as well as materials he had researched and lesson plans he had prepared for his students, and excellent essays left by previous students.
Professor Flitwick had taught at Hogwarts for decades, long reaching the point where he only needed to bring a wand to class. But he never discarded these things he wrote in his earlier years; instead, he meticulously organized and collected them, and even now, he was still intermittently repairing them.
Wade's eyes allowed him to quickly learn a spell. But with the same Fire Charm, some could only light a cigarette, some could light a bonfire, and others could burn down a city.
This was a difference in power.
And in terms of control, some people's Fire Charm would inexplicably blow up in their face, leaving them scorched, while others could bring the ignited flames under control, allowing them to deform, burn, and extinguish at will.
The difference wasn't just in magical power, but more in the wizard's understanding of the essence of the spell.
Wade's eyes allowed him to "learn," textbooks and books in the library allowed him to "understand," but the materials from Professor Flitwick allowed him to touch the line of "control."
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