"So let me warn you one more time. If you open your mouth about that again before doing that thing, it’s really not going to be fun for you."
"Of course. Naturally."
He answers so well.
Hey, young man. Act like a gentleman.
One more word about my secret, and then I’ll really turn into a thug.
"Oh, Leonard. Harry and Malfoy are supposed to duel tonight. Do you want to come too?"
"A duel?"
Ah. Is that today? I’d been hanging around with Hermione so much lately that I almost missed an episode like this.
"No, I’m not going. I don’t think Malfoy will even show up anyway. Honestly, you’d be better off going to the library and studying instead of wasting time on that."
Why would I go there when I could just sleep? Go on without me and move the story along. And bring me back a Melona while you’re at it.
"Did you see that thing again this time?"
"No? It’s just my guess. You just told me about it, so how would I know? Anyone listening would think I do that thing every day. I haven’t done that thing in over a month. Anyway, you two go and handle it yourselves. Just don’t get caught."
Skipping curfew, having a duel, exploring Hogwarts. Sounds like a fun time for sure.
*
Before I knew it, October was almost over, and the Whomping Willow had changed its clothes.
From morning onward, the Great Hall at Hogwarts was filled with a strange excitement.
Because today was Halloween.
But I wasn’t swept up in the mood at all.
I wasn’t from a Halloween culture to begin with, so I never really understood what was so fun about it.
Why on earth do people dress up as ghosts? You live with real ghosts every day, don’t you? I could understand Muggles doing it, but still.
For today’s morning class, we had Professor Flitwick’s general magic lesson.
We were going to learn the famous [Wingardium Leviosa].
"Now, everyone, remember the wrist movement we practiced. Swish, flick! Everyone, let’s do it once more."
Swish, flick!
"It’s also very important not to get the spell wrong. Repeat after me. Wingar-dium Levi-o-sa. Remember that there was once a wizard crushed under a buffalo because he pronounced the f as an s. Now then, everyone, let’s begin practicing."
Following Professor Flitwick’s instructions, the students began their practice.
The boys were practicing on the special desks I’d had made based on my theory.
Even though it was considered a difficult spell, at least by first-year standards, some of the boys had already started lifting their feathers little by little.
Ron was also raising his wand and chanting the spell.
"Wing-ardium Levio-sa!"
The feather twitched, then stopped dead.
Hermione was about to step in then.
"Ron, the pronun..."
I hurriedly stopped Hermione.
"Shh, Hera. Just leave him be for now."
"What? Why? He’s obviously pronouncing it wrong. I have to tell him."
"Trust me and just leave him alone for a second."
"Really...? All right."
Hermione soon lost interest and started casting the spell on her own feather.
"Wingar-dium Levi-o-sa!"
A perfect levitation charm.
Her feather rose higher and higher, until it finally stopped near the ceiling.
"Oh, Miss Granger! Excellent! Five points to Gryffindor. Everyone, look here. Miss Granger has done wonderfully."
Professor Flitwick came over to praise Hermione, then turned to me with expectant eyes as he sat beside me.
"Now, let’s see how well Mr. Oppenbach does."
I lifted the feather without even raising my wand.
Gasps erupted all around.
"What?! Mr. Oppenbach! How on earth did you do that? At your age, already nonverbal magic? And without even using a wand? Fifteen points to Gryffindor. Mr. Oppenbach, please stay behind for a moment after class ends."
While Professor Flitwick went back to help the other students, I spoke to Ron.
"Hey, Ron. Can I borrow your wand for a second?"
"My wand? Sure, here."
I took Ron’s wand and examined it closely.
It was a rather old wand, one that clearly hadn’t been cared for very well.
Look at that. The core material was even poking out at the tip.
Wands aren’t supposed to wear out this fast, so how on earth had he been taking care of it?
At this point, you’d have to say Charlie had mishandled it from the start.
"Ron, you said this wand was handed down from your brother, right?"
"Yeah. It was my second brother Charlie’s wand. Charlie could do amazing magic with it, so why can’t I...? Am I just too stupid...?"
"Do you know what it’s made of?"
"Ash, twelve inches, and unicorn hair, I think."
"A wand made with unicorn hair is extremely loyal to the first owner it meets, but if it goes to another owner, it can barely function. It’s the exact opposite of dragon heartstring, which lends its power to anyone.
And ash also tends to be loyal to its owner.
So the ash and unicorn hair combination might be a perfect wand for its original owner, but if you inherit it, borrow someone else’s wand, or even steal one and use it, the wand can lose its power entirely."
"What? Really? How do you know all that?"
"It’s all in the books if you look for it. See? If you’d gone to the library whenever I told you to, this wouldn’t have happened."
"Then what do I do now? My family doesn’t have enough money to buy me a new wand..."
Doesn’t have enough money? Why not?
Your mother spent seven Galleons on books just because she was obsessed with Lockhart. How is it that you can’t spare seven Galleons?
If that scammer hadn’t taken advantage of her, Ron could have bought every item he needed for school brand-new this year.
"I’ll talk to Professor McGonagall. A wand is incredibly important to a wizard. I’m sure she’ll help persuade your mother."
"Oh, thanks, Leonard. You really are the only one."
"I think you’ve got talent. Even with a wand that won’t listen at all and is so badly maintained the core is sticking out, magic still comes out sometimes, doesn’t it? And last time in Transfiguration, you even managed to turn half the matches. If you get a proper wand, your real ability will definitely show."
"Really? For real? I can do well?"
"Yeah, kid, trust me once. Who am I? Leonard Oppenbach, Hogwarts’ super rookie. I’ve got to have a quick meeting with Professor Flitwick after class, so wait here a bit. It’s fine if we eat lunch a little late today, right?"
"Yeah, how long could a meeting possibly take?"
*
After class, I went to Professor Flitwick’s office.
"Professor, what did you want to see me about?"
"Ah, Mr. Oppenbach. You used nonverbal magic so freely earlier. I called you because I was curious how you did it."
"Don’t other professors all do nonverbal magic easily? Older students learn it too. Isn’t this something you can see from time to time?"
"Even older students can’t use nonverbal magic as easily as you do. Most of them only pretend not to speak while muttering the spell very quietly. Professors are naturally skilled at nonverbal magic, but you’re not a professor, are you? And you didn’t even use a wand. In my opinion, you have tremendous talent for magic."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Could you tell me how you practiced? Your paper this time was also a great help. If you practiced nonverbal magic in some special way, it might be of great benefit to improving the skills of older students."
"I just practiced for a long time."
"Practiced? How much practice could you possibly have done? It’s only been two months since you entered Hogwarts, hasn’t it?"
"I’ve been practicing since I was three."
"Since you were three? Then... could it be related to a magical surge?"
"Yes, Professor. I had my first magical surge when I was three. It was so fascinating that I tried to do it more, but it didn’t always work. So I kept practicing until it did. With steady practice, my magic grew stronger and became easier to control."
"Hmm... that is a very rare case... Except for a tiny number of cases, wizards generally experience a magical surge when they’re young and then forget that power again.
It only appears briefly when they go through intense emotional swings, then disappears.
Young wizards like that go on living as if magic doesn’t exist, and only after they first pick up a wand do they become able to handle that power again.
Now, could you show me something else?"
At Professor Flitwick’s request, I lit a fire in midair and summoned a gust of wind.
"Oh, very impressive. You taught yourself?"
Was that really what you’d call self-taught? It just worked when I did it.
"Professor, I have a few questions about that part."
"Oh, certainly. Answering a student’s questions is one of a professor’s great pleasures. Ask me anything."
I asked Professor Flitwick about the question I’d had before going to bed last night.
"Your insight is remarkable. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a student with such promising future potential.
Yes, I once wondered about those things too.
Not to brag, but only wizards with a strong spirit of inquiry, like me, ask questions like that.
Most people are too busy chanting spells to think about why these things happen, and then forget everything once the exam is over.
How did a child as inquisitive as you end up in Gryffindor? You really ought to have come to Ravenclaw.
And from what I heard during the Sorting, it sounds like the Hat wanted to send you to Slytherin, didn’t it?"
"Yes. More precisely, it said I’d do well in every house. The Hat tried to put me in Slytherin, and I chose Gryffindor."
"Because of Miss Granger?"
"Of course. Honestly, if Hermione hadn’t gone to Gryffindor, I don’t think I would have gone there either."
"Ah, that girl is quite desirable indeed. She’s clearly got Ravenclaw talent. What a waste, to see both of such precious talents end up in Gryffindor... tsk tsk, what a pity.
Well, anyway, as for the question you just asked, there’s almost nothing officially established. But I do have a personal theory. Would you like to hear it?"
"Of course."
"This is what I think.
Young children have very intense emotional swings. They get angry easily, laugh easily, and cry easily. If there’s something unpleasant, they never hold it in.
If they eat something tasty, they smile brightly. If they soil themselves and get wet, they burst into tears and demand a fresh diaper immediately.
But when what they want doesn’t happen right away, they express their feelings very strongly, and when that combines with magical talent, a magical surge occurs.
This magical surge happens in quite a variety of ways, because children’s thoughts aren’t very specific.
For example, suppose a child falls asleep, then wakes up because a dog keeps barking outside. The child gets irritated by the mysterious sound that disturbed their sleep, and eventually a magical surge occurs.
At such times, children usually think something like this:
"I don’t want to hear that annoying sound anymore."
Not specific, is it?
How exactly they don’t want to hear it isn’t the child’s concern. The noise is just annoying. They just want that loud sound gone somehow, but they don’t know how.
So magic fulfills the child’s wish in its own way.
Sometimes it casts a simple soundproofing charm, but if it’s severe, it may even blow up the dog to get rid of the noise. Very troublesome indeed.
This is the stage when magical surges most commonly occur.
After that, children gradually learn about the world and realize they can’t just act however they want when something displeases them.
So magical surges stop appearing for a while after that.
Magic that seems to disappear for the time being reappears the moment they first pick up a wand, and the wand helps control that changeable, difficult power.
What had seemed unpredictable begins to find order under the wand’s guidance.
It’s certain that the wand helps control magic. On that point, I can give you a definite answer."
"Then why is the wand movement necessary at all? In the case of [Patronus] magic, wand movement doesn’t seem important at all."
"Ah, certainly, some spells represented by the [Patronus] do not rely much on wand movement. Once you become skilled, you don’t even need the incantation. In general, the ancient magic passed down from long ago belongs to this category. Hmm... how should I explain it? Do you know about the trees that Muggles keep as a hobby?"
"Yes, Professor. You mean bonsai, right?"
"Yes, that’s it. When growing a tree, if you limit the space so the branches grow into the shape you want, the branches will grow according to that space. Muggles grow bonsai in shapes that suit their tastes. By contrast, other trees that haven’t been touched by human hands grow however they please.
I think spells and wand movements are similar to the frame that restricts how branches grow. It’s a very crude analogy, though.
So even if the movement differs from what’s in the book, it doesn’t necessarily interfere with the spell. You just have to focus a little more.
The reason young students are taught to make the wand movement precisely is because it helps with image training.
The belief that if you swing it correctly, the spell will work properly helps bring the spell into reality.
Exceptional wizards don’t need that. In fact, they each have their own habits when it comes to wand movements.
A representative example would be Gellert Grindelwald, whom Professor Dumbledore locked away. Grindelwald was famous for his graceful, orchestra-conductor-like wand movements.
Spells are the same.
Many spells were made based on Latin because they were created during the time when Rome ruled Europe.
A spell is really just putting into words the magic you want to perform.
For example, we learn the water-summoning spell as "Aguamenti," but back then it was probably just something like, "Water, come out, ta-da."
Among more recently created spells, there are quite a few based on English as well."
"Professor, then to think extremely, it would be entirely possible to chant a levitation spell while actually firing an attack spell instead, wouldn’t it? Of course, if the caster had a firm enough will."
"Yes, exactly. In theory, it would be entirely possible to shout [Stupefy] with your mouth while actually firing [Impedimenta], though it’s usually not done because it’s very easy to get confused."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Yes. To sum up, you could say that ‘magic, which is powerful but unstable, erratic, and difficult to control, becomes stably manifested under the control of the wand, wand movements, and spells.’
Of course, that is purely my own theory.
I’d like to research it, but there are far too few samples.
There are only a few tens of thousands of wizards in all of Britain, and since experiments naturally have to start from childhood, the research subjects must be young children.
But the proportion of young children among them is far too low. Wizards really do have very few children.
You might think, since Hogwarts has around a hundred first-years each year, that testing a hundred children annually is quite a lot, but children ought to grow up receiving their parents’ love.
Who would send their own children off for magical research?
And even if you somehow got the children needed for research, you couldn’t possibly watch them all day until they used magic.
Nor can you deliberately cause emotional swings in a child, because that would be a serious violation of research ethics.
And since the research has to continue until the children grow up into adult wizards, who would fund that?
So many wizards had no choice but to settle for organizing their own thoughts on the matter.
Oh dear, it’s almost lunchtime already. If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss it."
"Yes, thank you, Professor. That was a huge help."
Hmm.
Then theoretically, without learning any separate magic, I’d be able to cast a random memory-modification spell on Scabbers.
As long as I had the correct movement, the right incantation, and near-infinite self-confidence.
Thank goodness.
I wouldn’t have to be interrogated by Professor Snape after all.
After finishing the meeting and leaving the office, I had to soothe a grumbling Ron.
"What kind of meeting takes this long? Lunch is already over."
"Sorry, Ron. Once I started talking, it just got deeper and deeper. Since you missed lunch because of me, I’ll take care of it."
"How?"
"There’s always a way."
I took Ron down to the Hufflepuff common room beneath the Great Hall.
Right next to the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room was a painting of various fruits, which was actually the entrance to the Hogwarts kitchen.
When I gently tickled the pear among the many fruits, the pear giggled and the door opened.
"Wow, Hogwarts has a place like this?"
Ron was amazed to discover one of Hogwarts’ secrets.
"Yeah, this is Hogwarts’ kitchen. The house-elves cook here and send the food straight up to the Great Hall."
"You’re always going to the library, so how did you even find a place like this?"
"Your brothers told me about it."
"What? Fred and George? Those traitors! How could they not tell their own little brother?"
Sorry, twins. I sold you out a little.
When we went inside, the house-elves were startled and greeted us politely.
"What brings the two students here?"
"Oh, hi, everyone. We missed lunch, so we came to impose on you a little."
"Please wait just a moment. We’ll prepare fresh food right away."
"No, it’s fine. There’s plenty of untouched food here anyway. Right, Ron?"
"Yeah, this is enough. We can’t stay long anyway since we’ve got another class."
Then some of the house-elves started banging their heads against the wall.
"H-hey, don’t do that. We’re really fine. It’s not your fault, so go do your work."
"Such generous people!"
*
Halloween dinner was very different from usual.
Countless bats flew in flocks across the ceiling, and just as many were hanging from the walls.
Huge pumpkins grown by Hagrid decorated the tables, and the dishes were the same golden plates used at the Sorting ceremony.
Before the feast began, Professor Dumbledore stood up and spoke.
"Before we eat, I have an important announcement for you all. I’m sorry that this cannot be brief.
Not long ago, Mr. Leonard Oppenbach, a first-year Gryffindor student, came up with a very special idea.
After discussing it among the faculty, we decided it was worth trying, and we applied it to several practical classes at Hogwarts with great effect. I’m sure you all remember it.
Mr. Oppenbach wrote a paper on this topic and submitted it to me, and I sent that paper to several other magical schools in various regions of the world for evaluation.
The results were very surprising. Many schools praised the paper highly.
Therefore, we have judged that Mr. Oppenbach has made an outstanding contribution to practical magical education, and we will award him the Hogwarts Special Contribution Award along with a scholarship of one hundred Galleons."
When Dumbledore finished speaking, applause broke out. Cheers rose from the Gryffindor table.
"There’s still more. The Ministry of Magic also highly valued Mr. Oppenbach’s contribution and put it to a vote in the Wizengamot. As a result, the Wizengamot has decided to award Mr. Oppenbach second-class Merlin’s Order.
For the award ceremony, the Minister for Magic, Mr. Cornelius Fudge, has come in person. Mr. Oppenbach, please stand and come forward at once."
When Dumbledore finished, even louder applause poured out, and the Gryffindor table seemed to fall into a frenzy.
I stood up and walked to the professors’ table. A round-faced old man who looked like Cornelius Fudge smiled brightly at me and hugged me.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oppenbach. I didn’t expect you to be such a handsome young man. With talent like yours and a face like that, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. If you put your mind to it, I’ll make sure to guide you well."
"I’m honored, Minister."
"Goodness, the students must be very hungry. Let’s finish the ceremony quickly."
After the award ceremony, I returned to my seat and looked over at Fudge.
He was whispering to Dumbledore.
Since Fudge knew that Dumbledore had refused the Minister for Magic position and that he had only managed to sit in that seat because of it, he had reportedly consulted Dumbledore on many matters early in his tenure.
I soon looked away from him and focused on my meal.
"Harry, Ron. What happened with that duel with Malfoy?"
"Oh, that? Just like you said, Malfoy really tricked us. We almost got in serious trouble with Filch, but luckily we weren’t caught. Oh, right. We found something important that day."
"An important discovery?"
"Lean in and listen."
I put my ear close to Harry.
"That day, while we were running from Filch, we accidentally ended up in the right-hand corridor on the third floor. There was a door there, but it wouldn’t open. We were panicking because it looked like Filch would catch us any second, and then somehow I managed to open the door and get in. Do you know what we saw inside?"
"Let me guess. A three-headed dog?"
Harry and Ron were startled by my answer.
"What?! How did you know? Did you see it with that thing?"
"I told you I don’t just go around doing that thing. Anyway, you got away safely, right?"
Why would I waste prophecy on something like that? I just know.
"Just as we were barely escaping, we saw a wooden trapdoor under the dog’s feet. It looked like the dog was guarding something underneath that door. The day Hagrid took me to Gringotts with him, he brought something out of vault 713, right? And that same day, someone tried and failed to rob that vault. I think the dog is guarding whatever was taken out of that vault."
"Hmm... interesting. Let’s say your guess is right for now. So what? If it was moved to a safer place because they were afraid it couldn’t be protected even at Gringotts, what could you do about it?"
"We know someone’s after that thing. We have to do something."
"Oh, do whatever you want. Typical Gryffindor, honestly. Anyway, let’s finish eating for now."
I said that and went back to my meal.
Then suddenly the main doors of the Great Hall opened, and Quirrell rushed in, out of breath.
"T-t-troll! I-it’s in the d-d-dungeons, I thought you should know..."
After saying that, Quirrell fainted and collapsed.
The hall erupted into noise, and Dumbledore quieted the students before speaking.
"It seems we must end the meal here. Heads of house, please take your students back to your common rooms."
A troll... wasn’t that the perfect target to test how much skill I had?
I called out to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were following Percy.
"Guys, let’s go catch the troll."
"What? Len! Are you crazy? Professor Dumbledore told us to go back to our common rooms."
Hermione lowered her voice and scolded me.
"Yeah, Leonard. I think we should just go back to our rooms this time."
Harry also agreed with Hermione.
"Harry, what did you just say to me a moment ago? You said you’d catch the thief trying to steal the thing guarded by the three-headed dog. So the one volunteering to do dangerous things is scared of a mere troll? Are you really a Gryffindor?"
"What? A three-headed dog? What are you talking about? Did you two get into trouble again?"
"I’ll explain later in the common room, Hera. For now, let’s catch the troll first. So you’re not coming? Fine, just Hera and I will go."
"Who said I’m not coming? I’ll show you exactly why I’m in Gryffindor. Right, Ron?"
"Yeah, that’s right. We can’t hide like cowards after hearing someone ask if we’re really Gryffindor."
Hah, this is why Gryffindors are so easy... What are they going to do when they fall for such a cheap provocation? Too easy, too easy.
"You said the dungeons, so we should head that way. Then it’s this way."
We separated from the Gryffindor crowd and went back down again.
"Everyone hide! Someone’s there! Is that Percy? No, it’s Snape? Why on earth is Snape going over there? If he keeps going that way, he’ll end up in that corridor on the third floor, won’t he?"
"All right, now we can pass."
Professor Snape really is heading to the third-floor corridor.
We hurried on and reached the dungeons.
But there was no troll in the dungeons, only a stench of rot.
"Ugh, the smell... This must be what a troll smells like... It’s absolutely foul. But there’s no troll?"
Ah, the bathroom! That’s why something felt off.
I took out my wand and poured magic into it, thinking of tracking the troll.
Then the troll footprints on the floor began to glow white.
"This way, let’s go."
Following the footprints around the corner, we saw a huge shadow.
The closer we got to the troll, the worse the stench became.
I didn’t think there was any word in the world that could describe that smell.
Fortunately, the troll was so sluggish that it still hadn’t noticed us, even though we were right nearby.
I whispered to Harry.
"Now’s our chance. It doesn’t seem to have noticed us yet, so we should attack now."
"That sounds good, but... with what? I don’t know any spells. At best, I only know one levitation charm."
I knew it.
Look at him strutting around while knowing absolutely nothing.
By common sense, if you’re going to catch a bad guy, shouldn’t you have some kind of attack method?
In the book, they say they used a levitation charm to knock the troll’s club away and stun it, but that was just because they were incredibly lucky.
There was no way these two knew the troll’s weakness was that tiny little head.
Quirrell had definitely taught them during Defense Against the Dark Arts, but those two were too busy sleeping through class.
"Harry, today I need to teach you a lesson. Never sleep in class."
I controlled my magic and snatched the troll’s club away.
The stupid troll finally realized something was wrong and tilted its head.
I focused my magic and swung the club in a full arc at the troll’s cute little back of the head.
Then both the club and the troll’s head were smashed to pieces.
The headless troll staggered for a moment, then finally collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.
At first I’d even considered lifting the whole troll, but now it looked like that would still be impossible. No matter how I looked at it, this thing had to weigh at least a ton.
"What did I say during Defense Against the Dark Arts class? Didn’t I tell you not to be rude to the professor? But you two sleep through class every time. You were probably too busy sleeping to hear it, but Professor Quirrell clearly explained that the troll’s weakness is that little back of the head. You couldn’t beat it because you didn’t pay attention in class. Why wouldn’t you have an attack method? You could just use [Wingardium Leviosa] to lift the club and drop it on the troll’s head."
"...Sorry, Leonard... I wasn’t thinking..."
"This won’t do. You two need drastic measures. From now on, special training with me every evening after dinner."
"What? That’s our free time!"
"Look at the disgrace you just showed. You got baited by a cheap provocation, ran around saying you’d catch a troll as mere first-years, and then when you actually met one, you knew nothing and couldn’t even think of attacking. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there? And you still have the nerve to talk about free time?"
"That’s... all right, I get it. I’ll join your special training."
"Good choice."
Then the old professor’s stern voice rang out.
"What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to return to your common rooms?"
"Oh, Professor Dumbledore."
Professor McGonagall looked startled at the sight of the troll corpse with its head blown apart, then asked us,
"Good heavens! Who did this to the troll?"
"I’m sorry, Professor McGonagall. I lured them here. I thought a troll would be manageable for me. They’re not at fault, so please punish only me."
"...Mr. Oppenbach. I’m truly disappointed in you today. I thought you were at least a little different from the other Gryffindors... Ten points from each of you, and another ten points from the instigator, Mr. Oppenbach. And all four of you will be cleaning the trophy room for a week. You want me to punish only you? That won’t do. Even if you lured them, each of you must make your own judgment."
"I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Professor."
"Go on upstairs and get some sleep. And also, who killed the troll, and how?"
"I took the troll’s club and swung it."
"For facing a dangerous enemy without fear, five points each. And another five points to Mr. Oppenbach for killing the troll directly. But don’t think that because I awarded points, I’m saying you did well. I expect you to reflect on your mistakes while cleaning the trophy room."
"Yes, Professor. We’ll head back now."
We returned late to the Gryffindor common room.
As soon as we entered, Hermione scolded me.
"Len, seriously, why are you so reckless? We almost got into huge trouble today! You must never do this again. We barely escaped expulsion as it was."
"Sorry, Hera. I got you punished too because of me... It won’t happen again."
"...Anyway, good job dealing with the troll. We can talk about the three-headed dog tomorrow."
"Yeah. Good night."
We each went back to our beds and tried to sleep.
Today had been a very long day. A rewarding one, too.
A Special Contribution Award, Galleons, and even Merlin’s Order. With this, I could buy gifts.
Ah, right. I almost forgot.
I should erase Scabbers’ memory.
I waited until deep in the night, when everyone was asleep, then quietly got out of bed.
I parted the curtains around Ron’s bed and slipped inside, where I saw Ron and Scabbers sleeping soundly, oblivious to the world.
"Mmm..."
Just then, Ron shifted in his sleep and rolled over onto his other side.
Inside, I cheered and raised my wand, whispering,
"Obliviate."
But there’s no way to tell whether the spell worked properly.
Still, my gut says it probably did.
Well, Voldemort’s return is still a long way off anyway, so even if there’s a problem, I’ll have plenty of time to clean it up.
*
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