Besides, Rock wasn't wrong.
The fact that Neville could cast a switching spell right off the bat using Adam's wand proved his point.
Was Adam's wand actually a match for Neville? The core was the only thing they had in common. Yet, Neville still managed to pull off a perfect switching spell.
This proved that a mismatched wand doesn't necessarily stop a wizard from using magic; it just acts like a limiter, making it hard to unleash their full potential.
"I got a good look at Neville's wand earlier," Rock said, listing the specs. "Cherry wood, dragon heartstring, rigid flexibility."
"Rigid flexibility..." Theo frowned. "That clashes directly with Neville's lack of confidence."
"Exactly. Neville wears his insecurity on his sleeve," Michael added, though there was no mockery in his voice.
"That's just one part of it. Dragon heartstring cores require a strong emotional drive to really work," Padma chimed in, noting the core's specific properties.
"Right. It's like a born poet trying to write verses while pounding on a war drum. The rhythm is all wrong," Rock said softly.
Adam blinked, looking confused. "So where's the common ground?"
Based on their breakdown, the wand Neville was holding seemed to have almost zero compatibility with him.
"No, there is one connection," Theo realized, catching Rock's drift. "Cherry wood symbolizes 'integrity under pressure'—that actually fits some of Neville's hidden traits."
The group suddenly understood.
"So," Adam was the first to speak up, "the question becomes: How do we get an ill-suited wand to cooperate with a mismatched wizard?"
"Now that is an interesting topic!" Padma's eyes lit up.
Rock watched the lively discussion. This was exactly why he had formed this study group with these first-year Ravenclaws.
All they needed was a small puzzle to crack, and these kids—innately curious Ravenclaws—would start to evolve. Over time, those changes would compound.
Right now, Neville's predicament was the catalyst for their group.
A bond was forming between them... even if it wasn't quite a "true bond" just yet.
"Alright then," Theo turned to Rock. "Spill it. What's your take, Rock?"
Everyone turned to look at him. The topic had fired them up, but they were still missing an angle of attack.
"Here's the key." Rock turned to the blackboard and wrote a phrase: Common Language.
"Neville and his father must share something, otherwise the wand wouldn't have responded at all."
Theo pulled out his notebook and started scribbling. "The Longbottom family—they've always been known for loyalty."
"And Neville's father..." Theo tried to recall if he'd heard anything specific about Mr. Longbottom.
"Neville's parents were Aurors. They were tortured back in that era, but they never broke."
Rock kept the explanation brief. These kids weren't quite ready to fully process the horrors of Voldemort just yet.
Still, that sentence was enough for everyone present to realize the severity of what Neville's parents had endured.
"Loyalty. Protection. Courage. Resilience." Rock listed the words in Theo's notebook.
"The wand recognizes Neville's essence, but it doesn't like his delivery method. So, we need to tweak the 'communication style,' not replace the communicator."
"Well then, guys, looks like we've got work to do!" Theo clapped his hands, looking around the circle.
"With pleasure!" Michael, Terry, and Padma said in unison.
---
The study group was fired up. Over the next few days, they were constantly seen darting in and out of the library, even pestering older students for information.
Rock, however, noticed something off.
Snape was acting strange.
Specifically, after Rock finished his prep work during his second detention, Snape didn't kick him out immediately. Instead, he made Rock stand to the side and watch him brew.
And the potions Snape was brewing weren't first-year curriculum. They were specifically targeted at the weak points Rock had shown during Potions class.
On the last detention of his two-week sentence, Rock arrived at the storage room.
It was the same routine. Snape was brewing alone, and after Rock finished processing the ingredients, he stood by and watched.
Learning from last time, Rock just observed in silence, ignoring everything else.
If nothing else, simply watching Snape brew was enough to skyrocket his own skills.
In his "mind palace"—where he stored his magical knowledge—several complex, high-level potion recipes that had previously been locked away were starting to click into place.
Honestly, before this, Rock wouldn't have believed someone could brew multiple components simultaneously with such precision.
But here was someone doing it right in front of him. And it was Snape, the most toxic man on staff, no less.
Rock glanced at Snape out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help but think: Perfectly capable human being... shame he has that mouth.
"Distracted. One point from Ravenclaw."
Snape's silky, menacing voice cut through the air. Rock snapped to attention, feigning sudden realization.
Playing dumb was the smart play here; arguing just meant a barrage of insults and fewer house points.
Snape used the tip of his silver knife to pick up a bit of moonstone powder. With a flick of his wrist, the powder dusted evenly into the cauldron. The silvery liquid instantly turned a misty pearl-grey.
"Tell me. Why must the armadillo bile be ground into a perfectly fine powder?" Snape asked suddenly.
Rock paused. That was the ingredient he had prepped tonight. It was used in the potion Snape was currently making: the Draught of Peace.
"To ensure a consistent melting rate when added to the solution. Otherwise, the potency is compromised."
Snape's hand paused for a fraction of a second.
Then, his voice sharp as a razor scraping glass, he said, "Then use that brain of yours—which I assume has been licked by a troll—and your eyes to identify what I am brewing."
Rock ignored the "troll-licked" comment and stepped forward to look at the cauldron. The pearl-grey liquid now had a rainbow sheen shimmering on the surface.
"Draught of Peace, Professor," Rock said, glancing at Snape. "The appendix in Magical Drafts and Potions has a brief note on it: The sign of a successful Draught of Peace is a pearl-grey sheen with a rainbow surface."
Clink.
Snape set the silver knife down on the table. "It seems you possess the qualities of a parrot—repetition. Tell me, what are the primary effects of this potion you so skillfully recited?"
"Forced calming of intense emotions, stabilization of the magical field, and short-term mental shielding."
Even though this potion was O.W.L. level material, Snape clearly didn't care about the difficulty curve when asking the question.
Dong—
The midnight bell tolled.
"Hmph..." Snape let out a breathy scoff. He used a crystal dropper to transfer the final bit of liquid into a vial. "From now on. Thursdays. 7 PM. Same place."
Rock, who was packing up his things, froze. Was Snape making his detention indefinite?
"What? Did you not hear me?" The corner of Snape's mouth curled up slightly.
"Understood, Professor." Rock nodded, signaling he got the message.