Two weeks after arriving at Hogwarts
Ginny's POV
Ginny settled into her favorite spot by the dormitory window, diary balanced on her knees as her roommates slept peacefully around her. It had become her routine - after a full day of classes, she'd wait until everyone was asleep, then write to Tom about everything she'd learned and experienced.
Tom, she wrote softly, I need to ask you something. Today in Transfiguration, we were working on improving our match-to-needle transformations. Professor McGonagall said mine was "adequate" but that the needle's eye was still slightly too large and the point wasn't sharp enough. I kept thinking about what you taught me with the wandless magic, but when I tried to apply those same principles with my wand, the details went all wrong.
She paused, remembering how frustrated she'd been when her needle kept coming out with a crooked point despite the overall transformation working.
I think I'm missing something fundamental about how wand magic works for those precise details. Can you help me?
[Puppy eyes, insert some pls]
Tom's POV
I'd been waiting for this question. Ginny was bright enough to realize that wandless magic and wand magic, while related, required different approaches for precision work. It was time to start her real/ intensive magical education.
That's an excellent question, I wrote back. And you're absolutely right - there is a fundamental difference when it comes to detailed work. Wandless magic is like sculpting with your bare hands. Wand magic is more like using very precise tools.
Tools?
Exactly. Your wand takes your magical intent and focuses it, but for detailed work, you need to learn how to give your wand very specific instructions. Think of it like the difference between telling someone "make a needle" versus giving them exact measurements and specifications.
That makes sense, she wrote. So what do I need to learn first?
I paused, accessing Tom Riddle's memories of his own magical education. He'd been largely self-taught before Hogwarts, picking up spells haphazardly without understanding the proper progression. It had taken him years to unlearn bad habits and fill in the gaps in his foundation.
We're going to start over, I wrote. Properly this time. I want you to forget everything you think you know about spell casting and let me teach you the right way, from the ground up.
Start over? But I can already do some spells...
You can 'perform' some spells, I corrected. But do you understand WHY they work? Can you control the fine details? Can you adapt the spell when something goes slightly wrong?In the end Ginny, real magical mastery isn't about memorizing wand movements - it's about understanding the underlying principles.
Yes, Sir!, she wrote, and I could sense her excitement even through the diary pages. So, where do we start?
With the most basic spell in your curriculum: Lumos. I want you to get your wand and try it now.
Now? But it's past midnight, and my roommates are sleeping...
The light will be gentle, and you can muffle the sound. Trust me, this is important.
Ginny's POV
Ginny quietly retrieved her wand from her bedside table, holding it carefully as she returned to her window seat. The familiar weight of the holly wood felt reassuring in her hand.
Okay, I have my wand, she wrote. What now?
Before you cast anything, I want you to think about what Lumos actually does. What is the spell creating?
Light?
What KIND of light? Where does it come from? How bright? What color? Be specific.
Ginny considered this carefully. It creates a steady, white light at the tip of the wand that's bright enough to read by and lasts until you cast Nox or stop concentrating.
Good. Now, using what you learned about wandless magic, how do you think the spell achieves this?
It... it takes my magical energy and converts it into visible light energy, using the wand tip as a focus point?
Excellent! Now cast it, but I want you to pay attention to how your magic feels as it flows through the wand.
Ginny pointed her wand away from her sleeping roommates and whispered, "Lumos." The tip immediately glowed with soft white light, she tried to feel herself, analyzing the sensation.
It feels different from wandless magic, she wrote, keeping the light going as she balanced her diary carefully. Less... direct? Like my magic is being filtered and shaped by the wand.
Exactly! Your wand is interpreting your intent and shaping your magic according to the spell's parameters. Now, try to make the light dimmer without saying Nox.
Ginny concentrated, trying to reduce the flow of magical energy into the spell. The light flickered and dimmed, but it felt unstable.
It got dimmer, but it's wavering, she reported.
That's because you're trying to starve the spell of energy instead of asking it to produce less light. Try again, but this time, adjust your intent. Don't think 'less energy' - think 'dimmer light.'
This time, Ginny visualized the exact intensity she wanted, imagining the light as soft as moonlight. The glow steadied and dimmed smoothly.
Much better! How did that feel different?
More controlled. Like I was asking the spell to behave differently instead of fighting against it.
Perfect. Now try making it the color of candlelight - warm and slightly yellow.
For the next twenty minutes, Tom guided her through variations of the Lumos charm, teaching her to control her magical energy with topics such as intensity, duration, and even color by adjusting her magical focus rather than relying on different incantations.
This is incredible, Ginny wrote as she successfully created a soft amber light. I never knew you could modify basic spells like this without learning new incantations.
Most wizards never learn this because they're taught to memorize not understand. Now, let's move on to Wingardium Leviosa. Get something light to practice on - but something with some detail that you can see clearly.
Ginny looked around and selected a quill from her desk. Ready.
Before you cast anything, explain to me how you think levitation works on that specific quill.
You point your wand at it and say the incantation with the swish-and-flick movement?
That's HOW you cast it, not how it works. Think deeper. What is the spell actually doing to YOUR quill specifically?
Ginny frowned, trying to apply Tom's approach to magical theory. It's... counteracting the quill's weight? Making it float?
Close, but think more precisely. The spell is creating an upward magical force that exactly balances the downward force of gravity on that specific quill. The quill still has its mass; you're just supporting it with magic.
Oh! So if I understand the exact force I need, I can control it better?
Exactly. A quill weighs almost nothing, so you need very gentle force. Now try levitating it, but pay attention to how much magical pressure you're applying.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Ginny whispered, making the swish-and-flick motion. The quill rose into the air, but immediately shot upward toward the ceiling.
Too much force, she wrote quickly as she caught the falling quill. I was thinking about lifting something heavy instead of something as light as a feather.
Try again. This time, imagine you're balancing the quill on an invisible cushion of air. You want just enough force to counteract its tiny weight, nothing more.
The second attempt was much more controlled. The quill rose smoothly and hovered at eye level, barely swaying.
Better. Now try rotating it slowly without changing the vertical support.
This proved more challenging. Ginny's first attempts either caused the quill to drop or sent it spinning wildly through the air. But gradually, under Tom's patient guidance, she began to understand how to apply rotational force while maintaining lift.
It's like... like I'm creating tiny pushes in different directions while keeping the main support steady, she wrote as she successfully spun the quill in a slow, controlled rotation.
You're getting it! Most students learn to make things float, but they never learn real control. You're learning to manipulate objects precisely.
They continued with other spells from her first week - Alohomora on her trunk's simple lock, and Incendio to create small, controlled flames. Each time, Tom focused on understanding the specific mechanics rather than just memorizing wand movements.
For Alohomora, Tom explained as she practiced, you're not just "unlocking" the lock. You're magically manipulating the specific mechanism inside. Feel for the tumblers, understand how they need to move.
It took six attempts before Ginny successfully opened her trunk's lock with the subtle click of tumblers falling into place rather than the crude magical force she'd been using before.
For Incendio: This is exhausting, Ginny wrote after successfully creating and extinguishing controlled flames of different sizes. But incredible. I feel like I'm actually understanding magic instead of just copying what I see in class.
That's exactly the point. Tomorrow night, we'll work on precision techniques for your other subjects. But for now, you should get some sleep.
Wait, Ginny wrote quickly. Can you teach me something that might help in tomorrow's classes? Something that will improve my detail work?
Tom paused, considering. Try this - in Transfiguration, when you're working on your match-to-needle transformation, don't just focus on the overall change. Think about each specific part: the wood becoming metal, the rough texture becoming smooth and reflective, the blunt end forming a sharp point, the tiny hole for the eye. Visualize each detail separately, then combine them.
That sounds much more complicated than what Professor McGonagall taught us.
It is more complicated, but it's also more precise. Most students think "needle" and hope for the best. You're going to think about what makes a perfect needle and create exactly that.
Ginny's POV
The next morning brought Transfiguration first thing, and Ginny found herself eager to apply Tom's lesson. When Professor McGonagall announced they would continue perfecting their match-to-needle transformations, Ginny took a deep breath and thought carefully about what she was trying to achieve.
Not just "needle," she reminded herself. Sharp point, smooth metal surface, perfectly round eye, proper proportions.
"Today I want to see improvement in your precision," Professor McGonagall announced, walking between the desks. "A proper sewing needle has very specific characteristics. The point should be sharp enough to pierce fabric without tearing, the eye should be perfectly round and just large enough for thread, and the surface should be completely smooth."
Ginny pointed her wand at her match and concentrated on each transformation individually, just as Tom had taught her. Instead of one general change, she visualized the wood grain disappearing and becoming smooth metal, the rough end sharpening to a perfect point, the other end developing a tiny, perfectly circular hole.
The change was remarkable. Instead of the stuttering, imprecise transformation she'd achieved before, the match flowed smoothly into what looked like a professionally crafted needle.
"Outstanding work, Miss Weasley!" Professor McGonagall said, examining the needle closely with a magnifying glass. "The proportions are perfect, the eye is precisely formed, and the point is ideally sharp. Five points to Gryffindor for exceptional attention to detail."
Around her, other students were still struggling with the refinements. Emma's needle had the right shape but was still slightly wooden in texture. Colin's had a sharp point but the eye was nonexistent.
"Ginny," Emma whispered, "how did you get the eye so perfect? Mine keeps coming out wrong."
"Think about it in pieces," Ginny whispered back quietly. "Don't try to make the whole needle at once. Focus on just the eye - perfectly round, smooth edges, just the right size."
Emma tried again, this time concentrating specifically on the eye formation. Her result was a bit better - the eye was properly circular this time.
"That's brilliant!" Emma said excitedly. "It's like you have to tell the magic exactly what you want."
The pattern continued in Charms class. Professor Flitwick had them working on more advanced applications of Wingardium Leviosa - not just making feathers float, but controlling multiple objects at once.
"Today we'll attempt to levitate two feathers simultaneously," the tiny professor squeaked. "This requires dividing your magical focus while maintaining precision with each object."
Most students found this nearly impossible. Their feathers would either clump together, move erratically, or one would drop while they focused on the other. But Ginny, remembering Tom's lesson about applying different forces simultaneously, managed to float both feathers in a slow, synchronized dance.
"Marvelous!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed. "Miss Weasley, that level of control is quite advanced! Five points to Gryffindor!"
During the break between classes, several students approached Ginny with questions.
"How do you make your spells so precise?" asked a Hufflepuff boy named Justin Finch-Fletchley. "My needle transformations always come out wonky."
"It's about thinking in details," Ginny explained, settling next to him on a bench in the corridor. "Instead of thinking 'turn this match into a needle,' think about each specific change you want. What does the tip need to look like? How smooth should the surface be? What size should the eye be?"
"Oh!" Justin said, understanding dawning on his face. "So I need to give the magic more specific instructions instead of general ones?"
"Exactly. Magic seems to work better when you have a clear visualization of it."
By lunchtime, word had spread that Ginny Weasley was exceptionally good at explaining the finer points of spellwork. Several first-years from different houses had sought her help with their morning lessons.
"I still don't understand the wand movement for Wingardium Leviosa," complained Rosane from Hufflepuff. "Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't."
"Show me what you're doing," Ginny said, settling at the Hufflepuff table where Hannah was practicing with a piece of bread.
Hannah demonstrated the swish-and-flick motion, but Ginny noticed it was inconsistent - sometimes sharp, sometimes too slow.
"Try making the movement more deliberate," Ginny suggested. "The swish should be quick and confident, like you're painting a line in the air. The flick is like dotting an 'i' - sharp and precise."
Hannah tried again with the corrected movement, and this time her bread rose smoothly into the air.
"It worked! Oh, that's much better!" Hannah beamed. "You're so good at explaining these things!"
Tom's POV
That afternoon, Ginny escaped alone to the dormitories, she opened the diary to tell me about her day, her magical signature practically glowed with satisfaction and excitement.
Tom, it was incredible! she wrote. Everything you taught me last night worked perfectly. But the best part was helping other students understand the detail work too.
You helped other students?
Yes! I ended up explaining precision techniques to about eight people today. It was amazing to see them finally get better results when I broke down the spells the way you taught me.
I felt a surge of pride reading her words. That's wonderful, Ginny. Teaching others is actually one of the best ways to deepen your own understanding.
Really? It felt like that. When I had to explain why the wand movement for Wingardium Leviosa needs to be so precise, I understood it even better myself.
Exactly. A true understanding of magic means being able to share that knowledge with others. You're not just learning spells - you're learning to think magically.
Is that what we're doing? Learning to think magically?
That's exactly what we're doing. Most wizards learn magic like following a recipe - do these steps, get this result. But real magical mastery means understanding the principles behind those recipes so you can adapt them and improve them.
That sounds incredible. What are we going to work on tonight?
I considered the possibilities, thinking about what would help her most in her upcoming classes. Tonight, we're going to work on magical precision and control. I want to teach you about layering multiple magical effects simultaneously - it's more advanced than what you're doing in class, but it will make everything else seem easier.
Layering effects?
Maintaining two or more different magical intentions at the same time. For example, levitating an object while also rotating it, or casting Lumos while adjusting both the brightness and color simultaneously.
That sounds really difficult.
It is, but once you learn the technique, it will make your regular spellwork much more precise. Should I get your wand?
Already have it.
For the next few hours, I guided Ginny through increasingly complex magical exercises, each one building on the precision techniques she'd learned the night before. She struggled at first - maintaining multiple magical intentions simultaneously required a level of focus that pushed her abilities - but her determination was impressive. We didn't notice the time passing by until it reached the evening.
I did it! she finally wrote, excitement practically radiating from the pages. I'm levitating the quill AND spinning it AND making it glow with colored light all at the same time!
Excellent! How does it feel compared to single-effect spells?
Much harder, but also more... complete? Like I'm actually doing magic instead of just shouting spells.
That's exactly right. You're learning to be a conductor of magical forces instead of just someone who knows individual songs. Tomorrow, try applying this layered thinking to your classwork - but subtly.
What do you mean?
When you're doing your needle transformation, try thinking about surface texture AND point sharpness AND eye formation all as separate layers of the same spell. Don't let anyone see you doing anything obviously advanced, but use the layered approach to improve your precision.
Okay! I'll still be working on the details of the spell.
Exactly. Now, one more exercise before bed. I want you to try creating a small flame that changes color while also making it grow and shrink in a pattern.
The final exercise took another twenty minutes, but by the end, Ginny had successfully created a flame that pulsed from blue to orange to yellow in a steady rhythm.
This is the most amazing thing I've ever learned, she wrote as she extinguished the dancing flame. I feel like I'm actually becoming a real witch.
You ARE becoming a real witch. And tomorrow, you'll help other people become better at magic too. That's what makes this all worthwhile.
Thank you, Tom. For everything. I couldn't do any of this without you.
You're doing more than you realize, Ginny. Teaching others, sharing knowledge, helping people understand - that's just as valuable as learning. Sleep well.
As Ginny closed the diary, I felt a satisfaction I'd never experienced during Tom Riddle's original time at Hogwarts. Back then, magic had been about power, about proving superiority over others. But watching Ginny use what I taught her to help her classmates, seeing the joy she took in sharing knowledge rather than hoarding it - this was what magic was supposed to be about.
Ginny's POV
As Ginny settled into sleep, her mind was still buzzing with magical theory and the satisfaction of a day well spent. She'd helped nearly a dozen classmates improve their precision and control, earned points for Gryffindor through her own detailed work, and learned advanced techniques that were already making her regular spells more effective.
But more than that, she felt like she was finally becoming the kind of witch she'd always dreamed of being - not because she was the smartest or the most powerful, but because she understood magic deeply enough to help others understand it too.
Tomorrow, she thought drowsily, I'll help even more people. And tomorrow night, Tom will teach me something new.
It was a wonderful way to fall asleep.
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Author's Note: Surprise...!!!!!!!
I actually uploaded!!!!!!!!!!!!