Alex clapped along, impressed by Vanessa's skill. He hadn't expected her to be so adept at spellcasting. The accuracy with which she had separated the ink from the fog demonstrated the potential for even more complex applications.

"That was incredible, Vanessa. Well done," Alex said sincerely as she returned to her seat.

"Thank you, Alex," she replied with a proud smile. "Stick with it, and I'm sure you'll catch up with me one day."

Alex smiled back but couldn't help thinking about all the ways her technique could be applied. The possibilities were endless: large-scale engineering, medicine—perhaps even combat. He could imagine using the Extraction Spell to pull foreign objects from a body during surgery or to separate elements in a potion. In a duel, the spell might even be used to drain an opponent's blood or extract something vital from their body, though he quickly dismissed that darker thought.

As the session transitioned into free study time, Alex focused on learning Vanessa's directional extraction technique. He spent time practicing, but as he went deeper into his studies, he realized that the spell had limitations. It was more suited for non-living objects or materials. Casting it on living creatures, like humans, was far more difficult, especially if they were moving. The slightest movement would disrupt the spell, making it nearly impossible to use in combat the way he had initially imagined.

But the idea sparked something else. Just because it couldn't be used directly on a person didn't mean the spell was useless. He began to think of casting a spell on the ground beneath an enemy's feet, removing the soil to destabilize them. This could create a trap, cause the opponent to lose their balance, or even allow for creative environmental manipulation during battle. The possibilities were endless, and Alex's mind raced with the potential tactical uses.

Lost in thought, Alex didn't notice Professor Flitwick watching him with a pleased smile. It was clear that Alex's dedication to research was exactly what the professor hoped to cultivate in his students.

Before long, the Charms Club meeting came to an end, and the students began to leave. Vanessa, noticing Alex still deep in thought, waited for him.

"Come on, Alex, it's getting late. I'll walk you back to the Slytherin common room," she offered. Curfew for senior students was a bit later, but Alex, as a first-year, needed to be back before eight.

Vanessa kindly escorted him, helping him avoid running into Filch. The day had been a productive one for Alex. The Spell Club had given him plenty of new ideas to think about. When he returned to his dormitory, he stayed up late, still reflecting on the practical uses of the Extraction Spell. Mastering this spell before the fourth year gave him a sense of accomplishment.

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The next day, in Potions class, Alex and Vivian were paired together. To everyone's surprise, their potion was the only one in the class that turned out perfectly.

"Excellent work! I didn't expect anyone to brew a perfect calming draught on their first attempt, especially not first-years," praised Professor Slughorn, his eyes twinkling as he inspected their cauldron.

The rest of the class wasn't so lucky—many cauldrons were spewing black smoke, and some were even burning. Vivian smiled awkwardly beside Alex, knowing she had contributed little. She had spent most of the lesson handing Alex ingredients. At one point, she even accidentally gave him the wrong one, but Alex caught the mistake and corrected it before any damage could be done.

Alex, however, accepted the praise calmly and nodded politely to Professor Slughorn. Brewing potions, to him, was straightforward. The process was methodical, with clear steps to follow. Each ingredient needed to be prepared to exact specifications, and timing was crucial.

As Alex stirred the potion, his hands moved with precision, and each cut of the ingredients measured perfectly. It reminded him of cooking, something he really loved. The key, he realized, wasn't just in following the recipe but in understanding the subtle differences in ingredients—like how two of the same type of plant could have varying moisture levels, affecting the outcome of the potion.

'This really is a lot like making soup,' Alex thought to himself, though he quickly recognized that the true challenge lay in mastering the quality of the ingredients.

Despite finding potions less fascinating than spells, Alex appreciated the focus it required. The brewing process helped him clear his mind and center his thoughts. He also realized there was potential in exploring more advanced potions, and it wouldn't hurt to investigate further by browsing old textbooks in the potions classrooms, as he had done with Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Travers was fuming. His potion had turned into a thick, black sludge, and he was clearly jealous of Alex's success.

"What's so great about that kid? It's just a potion, nothing to brag about," Travers grumbled to Randall Rozier, glaring at Alex's cauldron.

Rozier gave Travers a cautious glance. "Just leave it, Travers. He won't last long, anyway. Besides, Vanessa's still watching. We don't want to cause trouble."

"That woman's too soft," Travers muttered. "Alex better stay out of my way, or he'll regret it."

Rather than focusing on Alex, Travers shifted his gaze to Charles McKinnon, a Gryffindor across the room who was frantically trying to save his potion.

"My father always says the McKinnons are too soft on Muggles. Can you believe his aunt's joined the Order of the Phoenix? Pure-bloods protecting Muggles. It's disgusting."

Rozier's eyes darted around nervously. "Shh! Don't talk about that here. We don't want to get caught."

"Relax," Travers scoffed. "It's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord takes over. When he does, we'll be the ones in power, and all these Muggle-lovers will pay the price."

Rozier's voice lowered even further. "What are you planning to do?"

Travers gave him a dark look. "Not here. We'll talk later."

Rozier, clearly uneasy, muttered, "You were the one who brought it up."