The Spell to the Future

Even the discerning Edmund had to admit that Professor Hecate was a wise and insightful professor who understood human nature. Although the first lesson covered almost no academic knowledge, it successfully captured everyone's interest and curiosity.

Even the Slytherins, who had no qualms about Dark Magic and even took pride in learning it, were quite enthusiastic after class. Two girls even went to the library together, seemingly looking for extracurricular books to broaden their understanding of the subject.

On their way to the Great Hall for lunch, the young wizards from different houses were barely traveling together, and almost all of them were discussing what kind of spells they needed for their "future." A few young wizards were complaining in low voices that their spells were too ordinary and too weak—it seemed that in their hearts, there were better options.

"What's your spell?" Travers approached Edmund with a forced smile, acting as if nothing had happened. "This is ridiculous! Why does that stupid mirror think I need to learn 'Silence'? That's clearly part of Charms class, and I'm not going to be a thief!"

Seeing how persistent he was in his scheming, Edmund couldn't help but admire him a little.

"The Mirror thinks I should learn the Summoning Charm," Edmund laughed. "To be honest, I was preoccupied with finding a few things, so it actually made sense."

Seeing that Edmund's expression remained unchanged, Travers breathed a sigh of relief.

"What is it that you're so concerned about?" he asked curiously.

Edmund's expression turned somewhat strange, and for the first time, he looked at the young face seriously, as if he were looking directly at him.

"I'm looking for a ring, a dagger, and a mask," Edmund asked succinctly. "Well, would you be willing to help me?"

Before Travers could reply, hurried footsteps sounded, followed by something gently bumping into Edmund. He turned around and saw James Potter with a stern face.

What a pity… Edmund thought. If Travers had been interested in the topic, he might have thought more seriously about how to turn his roommate into a… well, barely usable pawn.

Thinking about it that way, it's not a big deal that he was interrupted. Travers never revealed any characteristics other than scheming and snobbery. James Porter was more interesting than this dull little snake—at least the lion could at least provide Edmund with some banter.

Edmund, seeing James's expression, quickly understood what he meant. Just as he was about to speak, Snape, walking on the other side, let out a cold snort.

"Some people not only arrive later than those who are lame or have mobility issues, but they also don't even know how to lift their eyes when they walk."

He hissed, as if defending Edmund. Lily Evans, standing beside him, also frowned slightly, looking somewhat unconvinced.

Tsk tsk.

Seeing James's cheeks flush red and his expression shift from feigned indifference to genuine anger, Edmund had no choice but to press his hand down and said good-naturedly:

"Oh, we were just kidding." That was true. Having both been pampered children, Edmund could really understand what Potter was thinking. "What are you trying to teach me about the mirror, James?"

They hadn't addressed each other by name before, but to avoid the two groups fighting in front of him on the very first day of class, Edmund had to pretend to be familiar with them.

After all, what could a little wizard who's just started school possibly know? Fighting like this won't kill anyone, and that would be too boring.

"Snotty-nosed brat!" James muttered under his breath, glaring at Snape, only to inevitably see Lily standing next to him, always ready to break up the fight... Tch!

Jaime turned his head away and looked Edmund straight in the eye, saying, "Palmtopsus. That mirror thinks I should learn this, and I must say it's really out of its mind, because I'd much rather learn Thunder Explosion."

Edmund smiled at him, and James nodded reluctantly. Edmund knew they had "made up"... well, actually, Edmund had never made friends with people his own age, and he found it hard to understand why James, who was quite prejudiced against Slytherin, thought so highly of him. But it wasn't a bad thing, all in all.

"...My spell is Thunder Explosion." A small voice spoke with a hint of pride, but even more doubt. "But the professor said it's very profound, and I'm not confident I can learn it."

It was the short Gryffindor boy speaking. His name was Peter Petitrou, and he was giving a cautious, sheepish smile, as if afraid of offending someone.

James's interest was immediately piqued. He moved closer to Peter, naturally separating himself from Edmund.

Travers seized the opportunity to whisper in Edmund's ear, saying things that were not much different from what he had said when he was teasing Snape. The only commendable thing was that he once again invoked the prefect Lucius Malfoy, firmly believing that "getting too close to the Gryffindor idiots is never a good thing."

Edmund was delighted upon hearing this.

"Sounds like it could get you into a lot of trouble!" he muttered with interest. "Seems like a way to say goodbye to boredom altogether... Thanks for reminding me, Travers, you're a really nice guy." Then his eyes lit up. "Do you have a favorite color? If you can fit into my size and don't mind, how about I get you two pairs of dragon-skin boots?"

Travers was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, then he was overjoyed! Even at lunch, he was absentmindedly thinking about which pair of boots to choose. Even with his discerning eye, he couldn't tell which pair of shoes in Edmund's shoe cabinet was the most expensive... This opportunity came too suddenly, and he hadn't figured out how to maximize his profits.

Edmund thus enjoyed a peaceful afternoon, but his schedule told him he'd better get ready for the second magic marathon.

Thursday afternoons from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. are Potions class taught by Horace Slughorn, Head of Slytherin House. To be honest, this is one of Edmund's least favorite subjects. He has disliked steam since childhood, and after his resurrection, he developed an instinctive aversion to all kinds of bottles and jars—anyone who has been locked in a jar for decades or even centuries will start to hate those round, chubby things.

But just as he was sighing and groaning about how he was "worried" about embarrassing the college by not giving Professor Slughorn face, Lucius happened to walk by behind him and patted Edmund on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

Travers hurriedly stood up to make room for the senior, but unfortunately the prefect didn't even bother to thank him or give him a second glance.

"What a child, Edmund. You'd better adapt to Slytherin quickly," Lucius said with a knowing smile. "Our good Headmistress isn't some rigid old scholar like McGonagall... You'll see soon enough."

Lucius then glanced at Travers with a contemptuous expression.

"I've heard about your style," the rich guy, who also liked to use Galleons to solve trouble, said lazily. "If you ask me, you can rest assured. Even if you can't brew a single potion, you'll still be Professor Slughorn's favorite type of student."

"Edmund, we are the same kind of people."