Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

At seven o'clock that night, He Shenyan was grading the students' new homework in his office. He is quite satisfied with this batch of assignments. The basic theory of meditation has been handed in almost, and most of the assignments handed in have also received good feedback... It seems that they can start their first meditation. He was lost in his own thoughts, the wood crackling in the fireplace beside him.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he said, "Please come in."

A red-haired boy stuck his head out from the door, he looked very nervous. He Shenyan stood up and motioned for the boy to come in. He recognized it as the Ron Weasley from the freshman. A boy with some talent, but very inattentive in class.

At this time, Ron felt more and more frightened because of his expressionless face. He thought that he had interrupted some of the professor's work. He was about to make an excuse to leave, but He Shenyan just pressed him and let him sit in the office. On a soft chair in front of the table.

"Mr. Weasley, what's the matter with you?" He sat down again, his black eyes staring at Ron. Ron swallowed and said nervously, "Uh, professor, I just...no, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to ask some questions...is that okay?"

He Shenyan raised his eyebrows, this ambiguous expression made Ron break out in a cold sweat. He just couldn't get along with this professor in a normal way, and he always held an inexplicable awe. But He Shenyan suddenly smiled, and he said, "Very good. You are the second student who bravely came to me to ask questions this semester. Come on, Mr. Weasley, what questions do you want to ask?"

Ron's nervousness did not diminish, and he asked: "That's it...Professor, I was distracted in your class four days ago...I didn't listen to the basic application of mental power at all, and I didn't even read other people's notes. can't read..."

He avoided, not daring to look at He Shenyan's face, for fear of showing a disappointed expression on that face. But all he heard was a quiet voice: "Please write down every word I say next, Mr. Weasley."

"Do you remember what the essence of spellcasting is?"

"Use your will to affect the real world?"

"Yes, but how do you influence it? If the human will really has such an easy ability to control the powerful laws of reality, then the world will not be what we see it. It depends on the spiritual power. When you first After a successful meditation, the magic can be mobilized in a comfortable way. What is needed to mobilize the magic is the spiritual power..."

The warm flames in the fireplace crackled, and the red-haired boy who didn't dare to look up lay on the professor's desk and began to write. His professor leaned back in his chair and taught him the lessons he had taken before without the slightest impatience.

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"So, this is where you guys have been buying wands?" He Shenyan looked at the dilapidated shop in front of him with some disgust.

The shop was small and dilapidated, with peeling gold signs on the door that read: "Olivander: Well-crafted wands since 382 B.C."

In the shop window, a wand stands alone on a faded purple cushion.

The store's hall is also small, with nothing but a bench in the corner. Thousands of long, narrow cartons of wands piled from floor to ceiling, a thin layer of dust everywhere.

Dumbledore smiled and led him in, and he greeted a silver-haired, silver-eyed, somewhat mad old man: "Olivander!"

The old man raised his head from the broken wand in front of him, he showed a pleasant smile, wiped his hands on his clothes, and shook hands with Dumbledore: "Ah, hello! Mr. Dumbledore, you Did you bring this gentleman to buy a wand?"

"No." He Shenyan shook his head.

He said unceremoniously: "I may be a little rude next, but with all due respect, you are wasting these materials."

The enthusiastic smile on Ollivander's face turned into an embarrassment, he looked at Dumbledore, but Dumbledore just calmly motioned him to listen.

He Shenyan waved at a box above the shelf closest to him, and the dusty box opened by itself, and an unpretentious black wand flew out from it. He looked at it in his hand and said, "Ebony, nine and one-half inches, dragon heart tendon... Am I right?"

He suddenly sighed and actually apologized: "I'm sorry I was so rude to you just now, I just can't bear to see these materials being spoiled like this. They could have had a greater and more outstanding form."

"like this."

A light suddenly lit up in his hand, and Ollivander watched in shock as the wand he made by himself softened and deformed in just a split second, and the dragon's heart tendon was pulled out intact. The strong heart tendon he had soaked in the family potion was scorched by the fire that the young man summoned from nowhere, and it actually glowed silver.

He summoned another green flame, and the brief glance terrified Ollivander. The green flame vanished in the blink of an eye, and the dragon's heart lost its radiance now, floating in the air like the stuff he'd failed to deal with—lifeless.

He Shenyan moved his fingers slightly, and the green magic circle appeared out of thin air, and it was printed on the ebony wood into a mysterious and beautiful pattern. It was then reshaped in white light, taking the shape of a walking stick in a state of non-conservation of matter.

The dragon's tendon turned into a ray of light and flew into the cane. The head of the stick twisted and turned into a dragon head with closed eyes.

It wasn't over, he even used magic power to form a sharp knife on his finger, and bit by bit began to carve the eyeball part of the dragon - Ollivander found that, while he was doing this, the wooden dragon head He actually opened his eyes and let him draw two miniature magic circles on each part of his eyeballs, glowing with powerful magical aura.

He Shenyan handed him the cane: "Try my work. Thirty-one and four inches, the material remains the same. But after a special enchantment, there are some small changes."

Ollivander was speechless at this point, and he took the cane with both hands shaking. Started warm, and then there was a fiery heat. He held the head of the stick, and actually felt that the stick was shaking slightly, as if he was breathing. The old man who had been a wand all his life put everything behind him at this moment, and he couldn't help showing a smile. The magic power poured into the wand from his hand, and the experience of casting spells was smoother than that of his own wand, which made him feel rejuvenated at that moment, and he shouted: "Fluorescent flashing!"

That day, the sky in Diagon Alley lit up for half the night.