"Professor, I..." Alan began, but he was immediately cut off by Professor Flitwick.
"Mr. Wilson, if I am not mistaken, that was silent casting, correct?" Flitwick asked with a slight smile, his eyes as deep and observant as still water.
As expected, he had been found out.
"Yes, Professor. You can just call me Alan," Alan replied softly. A hint of reserve remained in his voice as he faced the small man. Given the tension he had witnessed since arriving, the cautious Alan wasn't yet certain who could be fully trusted.
"No need to be nervous, Alan." Flitwick walked toward him and gave a gentle wave of his wand. Two chairs floated over; the Professor sat in one and gestured for Alan to take the other.
"Alan, it was clear that your casting was no accidental release. As I said, it was nearly perfect spellwork. Even many adult wizards cannot achieve such results with that level of composure," Flitwick noted, sensing Alan's guardedness and shifting the subject. "How about this: can we talk about my class? Tell me, what is it like for you, sitting through my Charms lesson?"
Alan gradually relaxed. He sensed no hostility from the Professor, only a keen, scholarly interest.
"Well, your class is excellent. Your explanation of spell theory is both profound and accessible, and it's very..." Alan prepared to shower the Professor with praise, but Flitwick cut him off with a chuckle.
"It seems you listen very carefully, yet you still found time to write letters during the first half of the lecture and even zone out during the practice," Flitwick teased.
Alan felt a flash of embarrassment. It turned out every move he made had been monitored. He managed only an awkward, sheepish smile.
"I had heard of you, Alan, even before you stepped onto the platform. Although I am not a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Professor McGonagall mentioned your impressive feat over the summer. That was truly remarkable. Furthermore, Lily Potter was one of my most outstanding students. In her recent letters, she expressed a great deal of admiration for you."
So he was one of their own. Alan realized he had been overthinking the danger, and his expression grew even more sheepish.
"I apologize, Professor. I shouldn't have been distracted. I didn't mean any disrespect," Alan said sincerely.
"No need to apologize. I can see you've relaxed. So, I shall ask again: what do you truly think of the class?"
"To be honest, Professor, it is a bit too superficial for me," Alan decided to be truthful. "Before enrolling, I had already studied the theory and most of the practical applications. I have actually mastered the entire first-year curriculum."
Flitwick's eyes lit up with a sharp intensity. "Indeed. The moment I saw you cast, I realized your skill far surpassed that of your peers." He stroked his grizzled beard. "Do you know why I place such importance on your ability?"
Alan shook his head, unwilling to sound arrogant.
"Because you are not normal!" Flitwick declared.
*You're the one who isn't normal,* Alan thought privately. *Is knowing the syllabus ahead of time abnormal?* He simply stared, not understanding the Professor's point.
"Do you know why I would say that?" Flitwick asked. Alan shook his head again.
"It is related to the growth of a wizard. When a child is born, it is impossible to be certain of their talent. One must wait for a magical outburst. Some experience it at six, others not until ten. That is the proof of ability. You went through a similar process, I assume?"
Alan nodded. He had first felt the "abnormalities" within himself around the age of seven.
"Many pure-blood families claim their children show talent at three as a sign of 'superior' blood. That is nonsense," Flitwick remarked with a touch of disdain. "After an outburst occurs, a wizard enters a rapid growth phase, both physically and magically. This makes a young person's magic chaotic and extremely difficult to control. This is why Hogwarts admits students only after they turn eleven."
Flitwick leaned forward like a patient elder. "Chaotic, surging magic is not easily mastered. If it is not guided, it can harm the child or those around them. Your formal guidance began the moment you acquired a wand."
"A wand?" Alan recalled the stabilizing shift he had felt the moment he first held his ebony wand.
"Exactly. The wand is a magnificent invention. It stabilizes and organizes the internal flow. Once you have one, your magic is subtly influenced, and the chaos tends to settle into a predictable stream. This reduces the danger of spellcasting. In the ancient days before wands, magic was volatile; it could go out of control during the casting process, and many ancient wizards were killed by their own power."
Flitwick's expression turned serious. "However, the wand also slightly reduces a young wizard's raw sensitivity to magic. Many children can use small 'tricks' without a wand, but find it difficult after they acquire one. This is why we discourage early use of wands. Raw magic sensitivity is a vital measure of a wizard's true potential."