Translated Chapter
382. Is the Moon a True Moon?
It wasn't just a matter of decoration—students were also deeply impressed by the strange creatures that accompanied it. These peculiar beings were actually tiny, unassuming creatures, and if the students had been more observant, they might have realized that such things should have been taught in second year.
But due to Quirrell's peculiar obsession, the students had been given years of passive exposure to these creatures, and afterward, Quirrell simply assumed they had already learned everything about them—so he paid no attention to this particular subject.
Indeed, students had seen them before—Quirrell had even shown them in class—but this wasn’t enough to prove that they were truly capable of recognizing them in real life.
After a few seconds, most of the class began to feel faint and dizzy, their heads spinning. Even Quirrell himself appeared slightly pale, his face growing paler with each passing moment.
Then, one student suddenly remembered a spell that could combine the magic of a wand with the power of a potion—three syllables, three syllables, the incantation was spoken in unison—and finally, the first tiny creature was successfully summoned.
Even Quirrell seemed to relax at that moment, his shoulders easing slightly. He looked at the students with a faint smile.
"Ah," Quirrell said, "it’s not wrong—your wand movements are perfect, and the spell was cast precisely. But why is the first creature so slow to appear?"
The students murmured in confusion.
"Wait—wait," Quirrell continued, "let’s see. The spell is correct. The pronunciation is accurate. But why is it taking so long?"
Then, in a flash of realization, Quirrell turned to the student who had just cast the spell.
"You—your wand movement was slightly off. You didn’t angle it properly. That’s why the creature didn’t appear immediately."
The student blushed.
"Ah," Quirrell said, "it's not just about the wand. It's about the intention behind it. You must believe in the spell. You must want it to work."
The students stared at him.
Quirrell looked at the class, his eyes scanning each face. "The power of magic isn’t just in the words or the wand. It’s in the mind. The heart. The soul."
He turned back to the front. "Now, try again."
The class repeated the incantation. This time, the result was almost instantaneous. A small, glowing creature shimmered into existence, floating gently above the desk.
Quirrell nodded in approval.
"Better," he said. "Much better."
The students exhaled in relief.
Quirrell looked around the classroom. "Now, let’s see what happens if we try something different. A combination spell—two wands, one incantation, one goal."
He gestured to two students. "You—come up here. Let’s see if you can work together."
The students stepped forward, wands raised.
"Ready?" Quirrell asked.
They nodded.
"Then—cast!"
The spell flared, and a small, shimmering light burst from their wands, merging into a single, radiant beam.
Quirrell smiled. "Excellent. That’s the spirit."
The class cheered.
Then, suddenly, a new student—someone who had been quietly watching from the back—spoke up.
"Professor," they said, "why don’t we try combining three wands? What if we used a third spell to amplify the effect?"
Quirrell paused. "That’s… an interesting idea."
He looked at the student thoughtfully. "Let’s try it."
The three wands were raised. The incantation was whispered.
And then—light exploded.
The classroom was filled with golden sparks, swirling like fireflies. The students gasped.
Quirrell stepped back, eyes wide. "That’s… that’s incredible."
The light faded. The three students looked at each other, stunned.
Quirrell turned to the class. "Well, that’s what happens when you combine three minds, three wands, and three intentions. Magic isn’t just about one person. It’s about us."
The students nodded, wide-eyed.
Quirrell smiled. "Now, let’s go over the theory behind it. The spell requires precision, but also trust. The wand isn’t the only tool—your mind is just as important."
He turned to the board. "Let’s begin."
The class settled back into their seats.
Outside, the sky darkened.
Inside, the classroom buzzed with energy.
Quirrell looked at the students. "Remember—magic isn’t just about power. It’s about connection. It’s about understanding. It’s about belonging."
And as the lesson continued, the air felt different—charged, alive, full of possibility.
The students listened, captivated.
Quirrell, for the first time in a long while, felt something like pride.
And for a moment, the classroom felt like home.
(End of Chapter)
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