Harry felt a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. His entire body shivered, goosebumps rising as he looked at Malfoy with a newfound wariness.
"We should probably keep our distance from him—for your sake, of course," Harry suggested seriously.
"Agreed. That slimy git is best avoided," Ron muttered.
As the Herbology class dragged on, time finally came to an end. They had three Herbology lessons per week, and after this one, their future lessons would take place in the greenhouses, where they'd learn how to cultivate magical plants and fungi and understand their uses.
After class, Carnie tossed his textbook to Neville, asking him to take it back to the dormitory while he headed to the eighth floor.
No, he wasn't looking for Dumbledore. He was looking for the Room of Requirement. He needed a private place to practice spells. That's right—he was that dedicated.
Wandering through the eighth-floor corridor, he finally locked onto a suspicious-looking section of wall. He began pacing back and forth in front of it, focusing intently in his mind: I need a large, empty room to practice spells. I need a large, empty room to practice spells. I need a large, empty room to practice spells.
The wall started reacting. The stone shifted and changed color until, eventually, a pitch-black door appeared.
Pushing it open, he stepped into a dimly lit room. It was completely empty, illuminated only by a few lamps on the walls. One side of the room was made of reinforced glass.
Not bad, though it could use a chair or two.
Carnie locked the door behind him. His first priority was to sense his magic. That morning, after using Lumos, his legs had gone weak, his waist ached, and he felt utterly drained—not unlike magic exhaustion.
That had to be the feeling of magic depletion. But since he had immediately overcharged the spell and burned through all his magic in mere seconds, he hadn't been able to properly sense it. It was like gobbling up a rare delicacy in one bite—he'd missed the taste completely.
"Lumos!" The spell was simple and familiar, and he succeeded on the first try, instantly illuminating the area around him.
Staring at the white light at the tip of his wand, he tried to feel what was happening in his body. But… nothing. No change. According to his Magical Theory textbook, wands actually absorbed ambient magic from the air when casting spells, reducing the strain on the user.
Carnie tightened his grip on his wand. He flexed his muscles, forcing his body to tense up as he channeled more effort into the spell. The light at the tip of his wand grew stronger, gradually illuminating the entire room.
Then, he stopped, closed his eyes, and focused inward.
As Lumos persisted, he felt his physical strength gradually fading—fatigue creeping up on him like a slow tide.
This must be magic depletion. He quickly canceled the spell, not wanting to pass out on the spot. There was no way he'd succeed in just one attempt. He needed to rest first.
Wait… breathing? He suddenly had a realization.
If magic was present in the air, then didn't that mean he was inhaling it with every breath? But then, that would mean Muggles should have magic too, unless the air in the non-magical world was severely lacking in it.
Still, he knew that physical exhaustion came from a lack of oxygen, which is why people gasp for air after intense exercise. But he didn't recall wizards ever panting from magic depletion…
Guess I'll have to try again.
Attempt #2:
Carnie felt his physical strength draining again. He could tell that his energy was disappearing, but he still couldn't feel magic in his body.
Attempt #3:
Still nothing. Just exhaustion. He felt like he was casting spells purely by expending physical energy.
Carnie decided to call it quits for now. It didn't seem like further practice would help—at least, not yet. He'd try meditation tonight and see if it yielded any results.
Now, onto the next plan: practicing offensive spells.
His Levitation Charm was still unreliable, but Aguamenti was the spell he had practiced the most at home. He had spent an absurd amount of time researching it because it was extremely versatile. Mastering it meant he could later use water offensively.
Becoming a water mage sounded cool.
He had tried forming water orbs before, but they lacked impact. Throwing them at someone was about as effective as dumping a glass of water on their head—more of an inconvenience than an attack.
Water arrows, on the other hand? That was the next step.
The problem was control. Shaping water into an arrow required strong mental focus. Even forming stable water orbs had been a challenge; he had to modify the incantation itself.
Using Aguamenti normally just produced a steady stream of water, which meant he had to mentally shape it into an orb afterward. That was inefficient. He had seen battle mages instantly conjure water orbs with a single spell—so why should he need an extra step?
It reminded him of ancient curses. In history, some wizards had uttered dying words—curses that could last generations.
Magic, in many ways, was tied to words.
He needed a new incantation. Something concise and powerful.
For a water ball?
"Gather water into a sphere…"
No, too weak.
"Gather water like a pearl."
Better. A pearl was elegant yet strong.
For a water arrow?
"Rain of arrows!" He flicked his wand upward.
…Nothing happened.
Too complex? He adjusted.
"Condense water into a spear!" He flicked his wand again, and before him appeared a spear made of pure water, about two meters long.
Condensing worked better than gathering—it solidified the form more. While a water orb remained fluid even in its spherical state, the spear had structure. It was still unstable, though—far from an actual weapon. He gave his wand a slight push, sending it forward. It flew in a straight line but dissolved into a splash of water before it even reached the glass wall.
Damn. Forgot about range. His mental control could only maintain a spell's form within ten meters. Beyond that, the structure collapsed.
He stepped closer, reducing the distance.
"Condense water into a spear!"
Splat! The spear hit the wall but splashed apart on impact. The reinforced glass rippled, but the force was lacking. At best, it would give someone a wet slap rather than actually injuring them.
It needed more.
A spear was too big. A smaller, denser projectile would work better.
"Condense water into an arrow!" He flicked his wand, and a sleek, transparent water arrow, about a meter long and a centimeter thick, materialized before him.
Now this had potential.
He willed it forward, guiding it toward the glass wall.
"Go!"
CRACK.
A sharp sound echoed through the room as the arrow struck. A visible fracture appeared on the reinforced glass, and for a brief moment, the arrow remained lodged in the wall before melting into water.
The glass quickly repaired itself with a ripple, restoring its smooth surface.
Carnie stared at the spot with satisfaction.
"Not bad. It actually looks like an arrow now. Just needs a bit more practice to get the feel right."