Harry Potter and the Cataclysm

Carnie was now experiencing a double layer of exhaustion—not only was his body fatigued, but his mind was as well. The Lumos spell he had used earlier hadn't taxed his mental strength much, but this time, it was a completely different story. His mind was drained from the repeated spellcasting, leaving him utterly spent.

After a continuous barrage of spell attempts, he was reaching his limit. He no longer wanted to sit—if he could, he'd just collapse onto the floor.

Even though he had no idea what the reinforced glass wall's endurance limit was, the embedded half-arrow tip was enough proof of its power.

Lying on the floor to rest, his mind, however, was still running at full speed. A true reincarnator never stops thinking.

He suddenly recalled a low-tier spell from a novel he read in his past life—Holy Light Bullet! It was a simple yet crude magic attack, and it gave him an idea.

Lumos and Holy Light Bullet seem somewhat similar… Could I launch Lumos like a projectile?

But there was a problem—Lumos had no damage potential. The only magical light that could actually harm something was the Patronus Charm.

And there's also the issue of mental control range. How do people fire off energy blasts like in anime?

Thinking about it wouldn't solve anything. Better to try it out.

"Lumos!" A white glow appeared at his wand's tip, the size of a glass bead. But… how was he supposed to detach it?

"Go!" He pointed his wand forward. The light did leave the tip, but it barely made it halfway before vanishing.

Magic depletion? But just channeling more magic wouldn't necessarily work—he still didn't have full control over his magic. Maybe increasing the output would help. And speed—speed was crucial.

"Lumos!" Carnie gripped his wand tightly, and the light expanded into a ping-pong ball-sized glow. He sharply flicked his wand forward, skipping the verbal command now that he was familiar with the process.

Zing! The bright white ball shot forward, illuminating its path as it flew. It looked like a tiny energy projectile.

Within three breaths, it had traveled ten meters—and yet it still hadn't vanished. In fact, it continued straight for another ten meters before finally disappearing.

Wait… my mental control range just increased?

No. That wasn't it. He hadn't been controlling it.

If attack spells required active mental control, wouldn't that mean they could be guided? Like homing missiles? That was ridiculous. Even Avada Kedavra didn't turn corners.

Carnie finally realized he had fallen into a blind spot.

Offensive spells consume massive amounts of magic—not just for power but for propulsion as well. That was why high-tier attack spells needed tons of magic.

His Water Arrow and Water Spear were purely mentally controlled. If he infused more magic into them, the power would naturally increase—but at a huge cost.

But then, what if instead of sustaining them manually, he left an imprint inside? A mental brand to stabilize them? That way, the arrows could hold their form without constant upkeep. With this method, both range and speed would drastically improve.

Speed is power.

Carnie felt a surge of excitement. But… how was he supposed to create a mental imprint?

He had no actual experience. The concept of "branding" magic was something he'd only read about in novels. Still, he had to start somewhere.

Carnie tried pushing his mental energy inside the Water Arrow—not just controlling its surface, but permeating throughout its structure.

Suddenly, he felt it.

The Water Arrow had become lighter to control. Almost effortless.

On instinct, he imagined it spinning.

It spun.

Oh… Oh, I see now!

Previously, he had only been coating the arrow's surface with his mind. But now? He had integrated his mental energy into it. He was no longer controlling just the shape—he was controlling the very essence of the water itself.

Chemistry calls water H₂O. It's made of hydrogen (H) and oxygen (O). When electrolyzed, it separates into its base components…

Ahem. Not that any of that mattered right now. He wasn't here for a science lecture.

Instead of breaking water into gas, he decided to brand the arrow. He had to create a marker—an anchor.

Using his mind, he split the Water Arrow into three sections and compressed them back together while envisioning the shape of a Sagittarius constellation—like an arrowhead, minus the dots inside.

Suddenly, he felt a click in his mind.

Success?

He slowly let go of his control.

The arrow… remained stable.

"Fire!"

The Water Arrow shot forth like an ironbow-drawn projectile.

One breath—ten meters.

Two breaths—it struck the wall, embedding itself fully before dissolving into water.

Carnie took a deep breath, lying on the floor with satisfaction.

"Today has been a damn productive day." He stayed for a little while longer, repeating the practice a few more times until he was fully content.

As for the Lumos projectile? He didn't bother naming it. What was the point? It wasn't even an attack—more like a distress signal.

After all, he had recalled something from the story.

When Neville, Harry, Ron, Malfoy, and Hagrid went into the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid had said, "Send up red sparks if you're in trouble. If you find the unicorn, send green."

It was basically a flare spell.

Carnie chuckled to himself. He had wasted so much time overthinking it, only to reinvent the wizarding equivalent of a signal flare.

Well, at least he had learned something. And besides, he had zero plans to get caught in the Forbidden Forest.

Sure, Harry and the others had seemed fine in the books. But what people didn't know was that someone had been watching over them in the shadows.

Probably Snape.

Carnie was convinced that Snape had been tailing Harry. And yet, when Voldemort appeared, Snape didn't show up. Most likely, it was because he was caught in a dilemma—he couldn't interfere without exposing his true loyalties.

As for the centaur saving Harry… was that a coincidence? Or did Snape arrange it?

Carnie didn't care to find out.

The Forbidden Forest was off-limits for him. Period.

He had no intention of wandering into a monster-infested death zone without a GPS.

As he exited the Room of Requirement, the torches along the eighth-floor corridor flickered to life.

"Time flies when you're learning!" he mused, stretching his arms. "I'm honestly impressed by my own dedication."

With a satisfied grin, he briskly walked away.

Destination: The Great Hall.

Meanwhile, in the shadows…

A distortion rippled through the air near the eighth-floor corridor.

A lone figure materialized from the void—an elderly man with twinkling blue eyes, his long silver beard flowing gently.

Dumbledore.

He had just left his office, taking a leisurely stroll to check on Harry, when he happened to witness a door appearing out of thin air.

The Room of Requirement.

Who was using it?

Dumbledore was well aware of most hidden passages within Hogwarts—but even he didn't know everything. Many secrets had been left behind by the four founders, some yet to be uncovered.

Still, the Room of Requirement was no mystery to him. Students had stumbled upon it before, using it to practice magic, conduct experiments, or even—ahem—sneak off for romantic encounters.

With a flick of his wand, he cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself, vanishing from sight.

Then, he saw who emerged from the room.

Carnie Stran.

Dumbledore watched as the boy stretched, mumbling to himself about how inspiring his study session had been.

The old wizard's gaze deepened.

There was something about that child—something intriguing.

As Carnie walked away, Dumbledore remained in the shadows, watching, his expression unreadable.

"Fascinating."