Chapter 390: Outrageous Suture (Part 2)

Stark's attitude towards magic is very rational. He believes that it is a power that can be used. If someone spends his whole life studying this power and uses it to the extreme, then he is still a scholar worthy of admiration.

But this does not mean that he wants to learn magic himself. Although he has seen the convenience of magic from Strange and he has experienced the power of the magic energy core, Stark always believes that this is not an ability that can be learned systematically.

The magic he has come into contact with is the kind used by Strange. It is full of too many mystical words and ambiguous hints. Its learning method is not even to the extent of teaching by words and deeds. The master is not even responsible for leading the way. The practice from beginning to end depends on individuals.

Stark prefers to make everything precise to the limit of their precision. He hopes that there will be results for every cause, and that the input and output can have a clear and quantifiable value, rather than a sentence "it depends on your understanding".

Therefore, when he heard the two words magic and wand, he knew he was in the wrong place.

A school for learning magic? Stark couldn't imagine it, because in his opinion, school is a place to teach knowledge systematically, and a subject that has no systematic education program at all is being taught in school, which is completely misleading.

Stark was stunned for a while, and the other students took out their wands. The teacher looked at Stark who was standing there, shook his head helplessly, cleared his throat, and then tapped the wand in his hand.

A cluster of small sparks bloomed in front of Stark, which made him come back to his senses. He touched the pocket of his clothes, and then took out a small wooden stick from it and held it in his hand.

Since last night, he found this thing, but he didn't realize that it was actually a spellcasting tool.

See, magic is like this, this is really a bit absurd, Stark thought as he looked at the wooden stick in his hand.

But then, the knowledge taught by the teacher was a bit beyond his expectations. Stark didn't hear those ambiguous words, such as perception, induction, communication, destiny, etc.

He heard the teacher say: "First, I want to remind you of the way to hold the wand. Some people like to hold the wand with their index finger and thumb. Most wizards like to do this, but some people are special. They like to hold the wand with their index finger and middle finger, or middle finger and ring finger. This is also possible. It depends on you."

"But there is no doubt that you need to find a comfortable posture to hold it. The next thing to pay attention to is that when waving the wand, don't swing your arms too much, but use the cleverness of your wrist."

"This is also the key point of the levitation technique to be discussed in this class. Its basic casting action is 'wave and shake'..."

"First, let's practice waving the wand, and then we can add the spell. Now do it with me, wave, shake, wave... shake..."

Stark turned his head left and right and found that others had already started to do the action. He hurriedly picked up the wand and started to do it.

For a normal 10-year-old child, this action is not too difficult, not to mention Stark with adult wisdom. Soon, he did it very well and even received praise from the teacher.

When he heard the teacher say "Anthony did a good job, let him demonstrate to everyone", Stark nodded modestly and said: "Thank you, just call me Tony."

As he said that, he raised his wrist, waved his wand lightly, and drew a beautiful arc in the air. The teacher applauded, and others cast envious eyes.

After doing all this, Tony was stunned again. What on earth was he doing? Why did he compete with these kids? What was the point of this?

But he had to admit that this was a new field for him. The absolute confidence in Stark's heart rose again. He believed that as long as it could be learned systematically, there was absolutely nothing he couldn't learn.

"Next, we are going to talk about the spell part. Follow me, Wingardium-Leviosa-!"

After the class was over, Stark was still waving his wand. He had successfully made the feather float, but he felt that he could do better. After the teacher announced the end of the get out of class, the classmate next to him pulled him, and he reacted.

Stark suppressed the excitement in his heart. When a new field was placed in front of him, he would study it day and night, but obviously, there was still the next class to listen to, and there were more magical things waiting for him to witness.

The teacher of the second class was very familiar. It was the male teacher who received them on the day of the Sorting. He pushed his glasses and said, "I am the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. This is a subject that teaches you how to defend against dangerous dark magic. Next, we will start the class."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts has a long history. Many evil dark magicians have used powerful dark magic to endanger the safety of the wizarding world. Today, I will tell you about a dangerous person I have personally dealt with. He is called the strongest demon in history..."

The students were all interested and listened attentively. Stark listened to a lot of stories and regretted that he didn't learn any new spells.

After a quick lunch in the auditorium, the first class in the afternoon was called Flying Class. Stark was very excited when he heard the name. Of course, learning magic requires learning how to fly.

Then, when he saw a row of brooms lying on the ground, he froze again.

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"Now, hold out your hands and shout 'Get up' to it!"

The students all stretched out their hands and shouted at the broom. Stark stood there hesitantly. He had a bad feeling, but at this time, the flying teacher's eyes had glanced over, and Stark had no choice but to Slowly stretched out his hand and shouted to the broom: "Get up."

With a "bang", the broom was like seeing a long-lost relative, and it hit Stark's face directly, causing him to stumble a few steps and fall to the ground.

The students around them widened their eyes, and the flying class teacher said: "It seems that we are going to have another talented Quidditch player. You have good coordination with the broomstick."

Stark covered his eyes, grabbed the broom and stood up. He held the broom in his hand as if squeezing the broom's neck, looked at it up and down, and then looked at the flying class teacher.

Sure enough, under his gaze, the flying teacher got on the broom and said, "Now, like me, sit on the broom and push your legs on the ground..."

Stark covered his eyes again. This was all too outrageous, far beyond the scope of his cognition.

If in reality, someone told him to believe that a broom could fly, and to ride on it seriously and push on the ground with his legs, then Stark would definitely give him a punch.

But in order to make this dream last, Stark did as he was told. He had just stepped on the broom, and before his legs hit the ground, the broom jumped up with a swish, and then took him directly to dozens of places. meters in the air.

Stark grabbed the front end of the broom tightly. He had to admit that he was a little scared now. Flying in a mecha to an altitude of several thousand meters was still iron-clad flesh. But now, even if it is only a few dozen meters, it is still flesh. If he didn't catch it and fell, he would definitely be smashed to pieces.

Stark kept fighting with the broom in the air, but the broom seemed to have a mind of its own and insisted on going against him. Stark asked him to lower it, but it insisted on raising it. The two were in a stalemate for a long time. , and finally it was the flying class teacher who saved him.

Stark gritted his teeth and stared at the disobedient broom. Before the flying lesson ended, he grabbed the broom and said to it: "Next time you have a flying lesson, just wait for me!"

The last class of the day was Potions class. As soon as he entered the classroom, Stark saw an extremely familiar figure, Schiller in black robes.

When Schiller saw Stark walking in, his eyes widened, and then he looked him up and down, showing an interested smile. Stark stood there staring at him, but Schiller walked near the podium and said : "Everyone go back to your seats, the class is about to begin."

"As you can see, this class is a Potions class. This is a class that is a little different from other subjects. I really like what the former professor said..."

"You are here to learn the precise science and rigorous craftsmanship of potion preparation."

"This is different from waving a wand and casting a spell, and it is also different from the magic in your mind, but it is still full of charm."

Stark felt that the Schiller on the stage was different from the Dr. Schiller he usually saw. In addition to being younger in appearance and voice, he also seemed more active. He guessed that this might be Schiller in his youth. Le.

When Schiller began to teach how to prepare potions, Stark's eyes gradually lit up. He was familiar with this!

There are formulas, formulas, and rations, as well as magical and convenient magic. Isn't this a subject tailor-made for him?

The first Potions class didn't teach any very complicated formulas, but Stark was very engaged and couldn't wait to try it.

But during the actual process of making the potion, Stark discovered that it required more educational background in biology and chemistry rather than mechanical engineering and physics. He touched his chin as if thinking about something.

The day's class ended like this. On the way back to the dormitory, Stark was alone, so he had to face the door knocker problem alone.

He walked to the door of the Ravenclaw lounge, and then heard the hawk-beak knocker ask him: "Do you think more than 40 wedges are enough?"

Hearing this question, Stark squinted his eyes and stared at the door knocker, but the door knocker seemed to have suddenly lost its vitality and remained motionless.

With a click, the door opened. After Stark walked in, he turned around and glanced at the door knocker, but said nothing.

Another quiet night, a good night's sleep.

The first figure to appear in the corridor on the first floor of the Hall of Thought was Charles. He shook his head and sighed, obviously encountering a room that was not suitable for him.

The next figure that appeared was Stark. When Charles saw him coming, he was a little surprised and said, "I thought Steve would be the second one to come back."

Stark sighed deeply and said, "You will never believe why I came back here."

Listening to the anger in his tone, Charles asked curiously: "Because of what?"

"Because of a broken broom!"

"I fell off a damn broom!

! "

Just as he was about to tell Charles about the extremely unsuccessful flight class the next day, Steve appeared, his face full of fatigue, and he said in a hoarse voice: "You will never believe what I just went through..."

"You don't know how terrible the place I just went to was!