Three hundred and sixty-five loops in.
"William, your skills are simply, incomprehensibly formidable. I'm not even sure what more there is to teach you about duelling techniques.
"Your only drawbacks are your age and limited magical reserves. Also, you know few spells with high destructive power."
After forty intense minutes, Professor Flitwick finally halted, breathing heavily as he observed William, who was sprawled out on the floor, exhausted, his robes soaked through.
After a short rest, William pulled a small pouch from the ground beside him, taking out a vial of magical replenishing potion and two bottles of stamina-restoring draughts, handing one to Professor Flitwick.
He downed both potions himself before lying back to rest.
These potions had all come from the hospital wing earlier that morning; with a Disillusionment Charm, Madam Pomfrey hadn't even noticed him sneaking in.
By now, William's routine was so practiced that raiding the hospital wing felt as natural as visiting his own pantry.
Taking the potion, Professor Flitwick shook his head in disbelief.
William's fighting skills aside, his recovery tactics were downright professional—possibly more refined than his own.
Of course, William was familiar with them. After a full year of constant training, these potions were his daily companions.
In fact, it was Professor Flitwick who had recommended them initially. William hadn't hesitated to grab them; he was in a time loop, after all, and saw no harm in treating himself a bit.
He pulled out a bottle of sparkling water from his pouch to rehydrate and began reflecting on Professor Flitwick's words about his limited magical reserves.
That issue, unfortunately, was beyond his control.
In the magical world, there were two kinds of potions for handling magical depletion: those that could rapidly replenish magical power and those that could permanently increase one's maximum reserves.
The potion William had just taken was called Magical Restoration Elixir. It was precious but not impossible to obtain.
However, potions that could permanently increase magical capacity, had vanished into the annals of history.
[tl/n: most likely an og elixir, I couldn't find any mention of this in my search]
Several key ingredients had gone extinct long ago, and no suitable substitutes had ever been found, making the potion impossible to brew.
Young wizards typically didn't have much magical power to begin with, but since they rarely performed heavy-duty magic, they seldom ran into the limits of their reserves.
What William did, casting twenty-plus spells in forty minutes, was simply unheard of.
For him, it meant that he would regularly face magical exhaustion.
Even with Flitwick taking a defensive stance and only countering William's spells, he could outlast him every time, forcing William to yield.
Yet there was no other way. William was simply too young; he'd just have to endure until his reserves naturally increased with age.
Generally, a wizard's magical capacity would stabilize in adulthood, with significant growth along the way.
Until then, William's fighting skills, however well-honed, would remain limited by his magical output.
After the duel, William left the classroom without encountering Dumbledore.
To avoid any interruptions, William had tried battling in various places throughout the castle, only to confirm his suspicions—Dumbledore had an all-seeing eye on campus.
No matter where William tried, the Headmaster always managed to find them at the most precise moment.
William couldn't help but recall the infamous rumor: Dumbledore knows every time you sneak out at night, every time you break a rule… he just doesn't tell you!
Today, William had preemptively met with Dumbledore early in the morning, showing him the ring and asking him to refrain from interrupting his duel.
Nowadays, he didn't duel Professor Flitwick every day. His progress had become gradual, his style more established.
What now limited him was his magical reserve and his arsenal of weak spells.
There was no need to surprise Flitwick daily.
William still attended Transfiguration lessons, of course. Consistency was key, and with Professor McGonagall's daily guidance, he had achieved incredible progress in the course of a year.
In Transfiguration, he was far ahead of Cedric by now.
According to McGonagall, he'd likely score an Outstanding on his O.W.L.s if he took them now.
Yet, potions brewing was still his true passion. The freedom to brew whatever he liked was endlessly satisfying.
Over the past year, he had brewed nearly every potion required up to the fifth-year curriculum.
In Snape's storeroom, he'd found Snape's notebook, filled with his insights and methods for improving various potions, and it had been a breakthrough point for him.
Some of Snape's techniques defied everything taught in the textbooks— it was groundbreaking, to say the least.
The only downside was that William couldn't make potions that required long brewing periods, as the next day would always reset everything to zero.
Fortunately, most potions taught at Hogwarts took under three hours to complete, giving him ample practice opportunities.
Usually, he would brew a bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir after a duel, as it heightened mental clarity, making study far more efficient.
As he walked down the long hallway, Dumbledore's resonant voice suddenly echoed from the Quidditch pitch.
Standing by the window, William gazed at the commotion on the field, realizing that it had been nearly a year since he'd last watched a game.
He'd been so focused on his studies that he'd neglected everything else.
To be honest, he'd always wanted to play Quidditch himself—after all, what boy didn't dream of flying on a broomstick and playing the sport?
But he knew he wasn't skilled enough just yet.
If he practiced for a year or two, he'd likely make Ravenclaw's team with ease, especially given the team's current status. He wouldn't even need to pull strings.
However, he had no desire to join just to be obliterated by other Houses. As a prodigy, it would be humiliating to be utterly trounced on the Quidditch field.
He would need to improve his skills first.
William knew that Cho Chang was aiming to be Seeker. He had no intention of competing with his friend for the same position.
So, as a former "three-point prince" back in the Muggle world, William's choice was obvious—he'd aim to become a Chaser.
His eyes shifted to the Hufflepuff team.
This was his chance—a chance to learn Quidditch.
William decided he could practice with both teams and participate in games as a player, speeding up his progress.
By the time he finally emerged from the time loop, he'd be a Quidditch master, ready to lead Ravenclaw to victory and seize the Quidditch Cup.
William's mind was already drifting into daydreams of glory.
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