Always More To Learn

Herbology was an intriguing subject for Sal. He found its endless depth fascinating—there was always something new to learn, no matter how experienced one became. Even the first-year lessons on magical plants held mysteries as captivating as the advanced fourth-year plants he was currently working on.

Sal carefully adjusted the soil around a young Screechsnap plant, stepping back to admire his work. Its leaves twitched slightly, reacting to his gentle touch. "That should do it. What about you, Tonks? Need some help?"

Tonks sighed, brushing a strand of purple hair from her face as she frowned at the stubborn plant in front of her. "That would be great. This thing has a mind of its own."

Sal knelt beside her and inspected her plant. The roots were slightly uneven, and one side of the soil had been packed down too firmly. "Well, you're doing a good job. You'd get good marks for this, but let me show you a trick. Think of it like one of your pranks. It's not about force—it's in the details. See how that part's uneven? If you leave it like that, one side will grow faster and overpower the other."

Tonks squinted at the plant, clearly not seeing the issue right away. Sal handed her a small gardening tool. "Now you try. If this was one of your pranks, how would you handle it?"

Tonks raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "I'd make sure every detail was perfect so nothing could go wrong. One slip-up and the whole thing falls apart." She adjusted the soil carefully, smoothing the uneven patches. "I guess if I did my Herbology homework as thoroughly as I plan pranks, I'd probably ace this class. Man, I hate it when you're right."

Sal chuckled, shaking his head. "It's all the same, really. Potions, Herbology, spell crafting—half of it is just paying attention to the little things."

Tonks shot him a playful glare. "You sound like Professor Sprout. Should I start calling you Professor Cross now?"

Sal grinned. "Not yet. I'll wait until I'm old and grey."

Just as Sal returned to his own plant, Professor Sprout approached, her eyes twinkling as she observed them from behind her glasses.

"Mr. Cross, Miss Tonks, how are things coming along?"

Sal glanced at Tonks, who gave a quick, nervous nod. "Fine, Professor. We were just discussing ways to improve our technique."

Professor Sprout leaned over to inspect Tonks' plant. After a moment, she smiled. "I must say, this is much better. The balance is good, and the roots look healthy. Ten points to Hufflepuff, Miss Tonks."

Sal grinned as Tonks puffed her chest out proudly. "Told you."

Tonks rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. But you are so helping me with my homework after this."

Sal laughed. "Deal. As long as I don't have to help with prank planning."

"No promises," Tonks teased, flicking some soil at him.

As Professor Sprout moved on to the next students, Sal returned to his notes, scribbling down observations about plant growth patterns and their potential applications in potions. His mind wandered as he considered how intertwined Herbology was with the other magical arts.

Tulip strolled over, peeking at his notes. "What are you writing now?"

"Just comparing the growth of Screechsnap plants to how they're used in potion stabilization," Sal replied without looking up. "Some plants thrive better when paired with specific potions, kind of like flavors in cooking."

Tulip gave him an approving nod. "See, that's why I stick close to you. You're like a walking textbook."

Sal smirked. "Happy to help. But you know you're getting better too. Your cookies weren't even burnt last time."

Tulip laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The three of them continued their work, the warm sunlight filtering through the greenhouse glass as they chatted, learning from each other as much as from the plants themselves.

History of Magic had arrived—Sal's least favorite class. It wasn't that he disliked the subject; in fact, he found magical history fascinating. The problem was the professor. Sal couldn't decide if Professor Binns didn't know anything new or simply couldn't retain knowledge because he was a ghost.

To Sal's left, Tulip was fast asleep, her head resting on her open textbook. On his right, Tonks was doodling on the corner of her parchment, clearly more invested in whatever mischief she was planning than the lecture.

Sal sighed and pulled out his notebook. If he wasn't going to learn from Binns, he'd take it upon himself to study real magical history.

To understand the history of magic is to understand where it comes from, he wrote. If one traces back to the earliest references, magic was originally called Albion Magic. According to Merlin, this magic was said to stem from the gods—one example being the Lady of the Lake.

Sal paused for a moment, letting the quill hover over the parchment. This concept of divine magic tends to be overlooked or dismissed. However, if one accepts the existence of gods, it becomes clear that different regions have their own pantheons, each contributing to magical practices in unique ways.

He continued, scribbling more notes. Magic can generally be divided into two categories: primal elements—water, fire, earth, and air—and the spirit, which resides within all living beings. The latter requires harmony between the wizard and their magic, much like the bond one shares with family. When harmony is achieved, wielding magic becomes as natural as walking or breathing.

Sal sat back, reviewing his work with satisfaction. He shifted his focus to another page, beginning his notes on goblin history.

The Goblin Rebellions were a series of uprisings driven by discrimination and prejudice from the wizarding community. Predominantly occurring in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, these rebellions were responses to systemic injustices. Even in modern times, subversive goblin groups operate in secret against the British Ministry of Magic.

By the time Binns droned on to yet another rebellion, Sal had filled two pages of notes. He glanced over his work and smiled. At least something productive had come out of this class.

Tonks leaned over, peering at his parchment. "You know, Sal, you could just write the textbook for this class."

Sal chuckled. "If I did, I'd make sure it wasn't a cure for insomnia."

Tonks grinned. "Fair point. Let me copy your notes later. I might pass this class thanks to you."

"Deal," Sal replied, quietly returning to his writing as Tulip let out a soft snore beside them.

Later that evening, the three of them gathered in the secret room Sal had discovered. Books, scrolls, and old manuscripts were piled around them, and the warm light of floating candles flickered overhead.

Tulip stretched and yawned. "I still can't believe you stay awake during Binns' class. I feel like I'm cursed to fall asleep the moment he opens his mouth."

Sal grinned. "It's not easy, but I guess I just really enjoy digging into this stuff. There's so much more to magic than what we learn in class."

Tonks flipped through one of the books Sal had borrowed from the library. "This bit about Albion Magic is wild. I thought all magic just... existed. I never considered the idea that it could come from gods."

Sal nodded, excitement creeping into his voice. "It's fascinating, isn't it? There's a whole layer of magical history that's been buried or forgotten. Most people just focus on spells and potions, but magic has roots deeper than we realize."

"And here I thought you just liked showing off," Tulip quipped.

Sal laughed. "That too, but mostly I just want to understand magic better. If we know where it comes from, maybe we can find new ways to use it."

Tonks leaned back in her chair, balancing the book on her knee. "I guess that's one way to look at it. But I'm more interested in how we can use this to prank Filch."

Sal rolled his eyes playfully. "One track mind, Tonks."

Tulip giggled. "But seriously, Sal, it's kind of impressive how much you know. Feels like you were born to do this."

Sal's expression softened. "Maybe. But I couldn't do it without you two keeping me sane."

Tonks grinned and tossed a balled-up piece of parchment at him. "Don't get all sentimental on us. Now, let's see if we can find more dirt on those goblin rebellions. Maybe there's something Binns forgot to mention."

It was the weekend, and Sal decided to test a technique he had been developing with his magic. Given the experimental nature of his work, he chose to practice by the Black Lake, away from prying eyes.

Standing at the edge of the water, Sal stretched out his hand, feeling the pull of the lake's energy. "Alright, let's start with this," he muttered. He focused, summoning water from the lake, letting it swirl and rise in response to his intent. Once he felt he had gathered enough, he shaped it in his mind—imagining a dragon.

With a sharp movement, Sal thrust his hand forward, and the water twisted and coiled into the form of a serpentine dragon. The shimmering figure surged over the surface of the lake, flying gracefully until the magic sustaining it finally wore off, causing it to collapse back into the water with a splash.

Length of spell depends on the amount of magic put into it, Sal noted in his journal. Now, let's try using the moisture in the air.

He closed his eyes and focused again. Drawing water directly from the air required more effort. Beads of moisture coalesced slowly, forming droplets that merged and expanded. With considerable concentration, Sal managed to replicate the water dragon.

Note: Takes longer and more magic to create water from the air than to use a natural source. Must try again during rainfall.

Next, he turned his focus to fire.

Unbeknownst to Sal, Albus Dumbledore stood by his window in the tower, quietly observing the display by the lake. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Impressive… he's manipulating the water to form a dragon," Albus mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. After a moment, he sent for Professor Sprout.

"I apologize for disturbing you on the weekend, Pomona," Albus said as she arrived. "I wanted to ask how our resident prodigy is progressing."

Professor Sprout smiled warmly. "Sal is doing exceptionally well. He's taken to helping his classmates in Herbology, and beyond that, he researches plants outside of his assignments. His ideas are quite fascinating."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Do you know what I just witnessed him doing by the lake?"

"What did he do?"

"He summoned water from the lake and shaped it into a dragon. Then, he launched it forward with remarkable precision."

Professor Sprout's eyes widened. "That's incredible! I knew he was talented, but I didn't realize he was so advanced."

"I believe it's time I had a conversation with Mr. Cross," Albus said, rising from his chair.

"I'll fetch him right away," Sprout replied with a nod.

A short while later, Sal was gathering his notes when Professor Sprout informed him that the headmaster wished to see him. After neatly organizing his papers, he made his way to Dumbledore's office.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Sal asked as he stepped inside.

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Yes, Sal. Come in and take a seat."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he leaned forward. "I happened to be watching by the lake earlier. What you were doing was very impressive."

Sal scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "Oh, that… I was just experimenting with my magic based on some theories I've been working on."

"Theories, you say?"

"Yes, sir. I actually wrote a paper on it."

Dumbledore's curiosity deepened. "Might I read it?"

Sal nodded, pulling a copy from his notes and handing it over. "I brought it with me, just in case. Is there anything else, sir?"

Dumbledore accepted the paper with a smile. "No, Sal, this will be plenty. Thank you."

Sal hesitated for a moment, then spoke quietly. "Professor… do you think I'm on the right track? With my ideas, I mean. Sometimes I wonder if I'm overthinking things."

Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully. "Sal, the pursuit of understanding magic is a noble one. The fact that you question your methods means you are approaching it with the right mindset. Growth often comes from uncertainty. Even Merlin himself questioned the source of his power."

Sal's shoulders eased at the reassurance. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot."

After Sal left, Dumbledore settled into his chair and began reading. As he turned the pages, his expression shifted from intrigue to genuine astonishment.

The boy has a remarkable grasp of magical theory, Dumbledore thought. He's connecting ancient practices with modern application, blending disciplines in ways most wouldn't think possible.

One passage caught his attention—Sal's analysis on the connection between elemental magic and internal harmony. Dumbledore murmured aloud, "He's beginning to tap into magic as a part of identity, not just skill. This is far beyond the understanding of most wizards his age."

By the end of the paper, Dumbledore sat back, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "Sal may not realize it yet, but he's standing on the edge of something extraordinary. With the right guidance, he may reshape not only his own future but that of the magical world itself."