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"Imagine you're a warrior!"
Hodge Blackthorn was increasingly convinced—perhaps because he was growing more adept at wielding his talents—that a wizard's emotions were like a toolbox at hand. You always had to prepare some in advance, or you'd find yourself empty-handed at the critical moment.
Neville's face crumpled, looking utterly miserable. He couldn't even begin to picture himself as a warrior.
Terry, sneaking glances from the side, suggested, "Maybe we could nick a suit of armor and stuff Neville into it…"
Lisa Turpin looked hesitant but also a little eager to try.
"Filch would hunt us down to our graves," Hodge said.
"Don't you know Mrs. Norris?" Terry asked, wide-eyed, as if he genuinely believed that if they got caught, Mrs. Norris could whisper a good word to Filch on their behalf.
Hodge, bustling about, replied, "Then you'd better stock up on a ton of dried fish."
Terry and Lisa exchanged puzzled looks. Clearly, Hodge was scheming another experiment. Neville stood stiffly in the center of a circle, its interior scrawled with all sorts of magical symbols. Around the circle's edge, several mirrors stood facing Neville, reflecting countless images of him in a dizzying array.
For the first time, Neville felt the room was suffocatingly crowded, even though there were only four of them.
Hodge circled Neville, tossing dried flower petals, lighting scented candles, and conjuring a string of colorful bubbles with a flick of his wand. Then, stepping back, he pulled out a piece of parchment like a magician revealing a trick.
"Bit flashy, mate," Terry remarked, leaning in.
"We can tone it down later," Hodge explained. "Alright, no talking. Neville, close your eyes."
Neville, trembling, squeezed his eyes shut.
It was already December. Over the past week, Hodge had held several more Whimsy Club meetings. New members joined, some old ones dropped out, and Hodge diligently recorded everyone's performances. Still, he preferred these small gatherings—they were more focused and perfect for testing new ideas.
Like this time, when he'd woven in concepts from African ritual magic.
"Picture yourself in a fight," Hodge began.
"I've never been in a fight," Neville said, opening his eyes.
"Alright, then picture someone fighting you," Hodge countered. Neville didn't object this time. Hodge went on, "Like Malfoy and his little gang." Neville's body started shaking uncontrollably.
"Yeah, that's terrifying… Crabbe and Goyle are massive. No one's not scared of them. One day, you, Harry, and Ron are walking together, and you run into them. You get into a fight. Three on three, fair numbers, right? But you're so scared, you freeze, and you hide…"
A mix of struggle and shame flickered across Neville's face.
"Harry and Ron get beat up bad!" Hodge declared coldly.
"No," Neville mumbled under his breath.
Terry and Lisa watched, hearts racing. Hodge's voice seemed to carry a strange magic, affecting even those outside the circle. They couldn't help but imagine Harry and Ron, bruised and bandaged, looking utterly pitiful. Lisa covered her mouth in sympathy. As for Neville, standing in the circle's center, he was hit even harder.
"You get a chance to do it over."
"This time, you won't run away. Three months have passed, and you're fully prepared. Your friends trust you completely. Listen…" Hodge raised his wand, tapping the parchment lightly. It burst into flames, and from the ashes came the booming voices of Harry and Ron, calling out.
Neville's chubby face hardened, his eyes blazing with determination.
"Petrificus Totalus! Petrificus Totalus! Petrificus Totalus!"
The first two spells fizzled, but Neville didn't notice. He kept chanting, shattering two mirrors before a red bolt shot toward Hodge. "Protego!" Hodge deflected it swiftly.
"Again!" Hodge shouted as another spell smashed a mirror behind Neville.
Neville instinctively fired back, still caught in the moment. The two traded spells, beams flying wildly in the abandoned classroom. Terry dove out of the way, dragging a dazed but thrilled Lisa with him. They huddled in a corner, Terry muttering, "They've lost it, completely lost it."
Hodge controlled his counterattacks, goading Neville to keep striking, occasionally pushing back when Neville tried to throw a punch. After a few minutes, Neville snapped out of it. He lowered his wand, standing there, panting heavily, looking lost.
Hodge handed him a cup of pumpkin juice—real pumpkin juice this time, no questionable additives.
"You're sweating buckets," Hodge said.
Neville wiped his face clumsily with his sleeve and gulped down the juice. When the cup was empty, he said in disbelief, "Did I… actually do it?"
"Not so hard, was it?" Hodge replied.
Lisa Turpin stepped forward, her voice brimming with curiosity. "Hodge, you've never used this emotional field on us before."
The "emotional field" was a term Hodge had coined in his essay, describing a constructed scene designed to evoke, harness, or create emotions in a wizard's mind. He'd mentioned it in earlier club activities, and Lisa had latched onto it.
"Different people respond to emotions differently," Hodge said. He'd only recently realized this. Beyond the usual joy, sadness, anger, fear, surprise, or disgust, humans had a vast, complex range of emotions.
Some feared teachers, some craved excellence, some envied others, some thrived on excitement.
Some chased happiness, some sought thrills, some dreaded loss, some feared the unknown.
A thousand people, a thousand different hearts.
"Like Neville," Hodge said, turning to him. "You value courage deeply, and you've got a strong sense of honor."
Neville gave a shy smile.
…
When Hodge handed the revised essay to Professor Flitwick, the tiny wizard couldn't stop praising it.
"Brilliant ideas! Magical Theory touches on the connection between a wizard's emotions and magic, but only broadly—it's nowhere near as detailed as your essay. Of course, Waffling wouldn't dive too deep into this area… Yes, I noticed you referenced some of his theories. Found them in the library, did you?"
"Using potions, alchemy, verbal guidance, and sonic charms to build an emotional field and unlock a wizard's potential…"
"But you emphasized in your essay that the emotional field should be broken down. Emotions in the past, scenes in the future…" Flitwick mused. "Let me see… seeking truth within the unreal?"
"Exactly, Professor," Hodge said.
"You also mentioned future directions… Are those going in the essay too?"
"I'd love for more people to get involved. And," Hodge let slip a hint of mischief, "this essay was heavily inspired by a comic I read as a kid. Would it be alright to include a few pages from it at the end, Professor?"
Flitwick blinked. "Of course, no problem at all. I'm sure some readers will be curious."
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