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I was not completely tired after a short nap, but I wasn't completely sluggish either, contrary to my fears. But I overslept my morning physical training, much to Hermione's surprise.

At breakfast in the Great Hall, I remained silent and analyzed my actions. My long ponderings while devouring eggs and bacon led me to some disappointing thoughts. The hat is not wrong. My sober thinking is a product of adult consciousness, capable to some extent of limiting the soul's beautiful impulses, but here it is now going through a very difficult period of growing up as a boy - puberty. A few dementors, a lot of theorizing, one sudden guess, and here I am - I do something first, and only then I think.

How did I come to the conclusion that the Dementors were influencing me? It's simple - small nuances in the behavior of the people around me. The cheerful became more cheerful and carefree, the duller became even more despondent. The increase in the prevailing traits of character as an activation of a kind of defense mechanism of the body so as to notice less of the harmful effects. Dementors are obviously unnecessary here, and the teaching staff understands that. Countermeasures - increase control over your own impulses. I remember my adolescence in a former life when every day was an adventure. And I need to start implementing the mind-in-a-cube project. I'll consult Flitwick - at least there's a chance he's normal. Hmm. Could there be a Dark Flitwick? Is that even possible?

The charm lesson was... A charm lesson. Flitwick never betrayed himself, still having the same fun and cheerful way of telling the theory of some spells, demonstrating and brightening up with a story from life. A good story, or not so good. Or a very unfortunate one. I remember having an acquaintance in a former life who had studied medicine. This acquaintance sometimes talked with such enthusiasm about his teacher of normal physiology that it was amazing. This teacher could tell with humor and a cheerful smile about how a man ate orange with vodka and died from a severe allergic reaction. The man's esophagus swelled up so much that it almost came out through his mouth. Funny story, yep.

After class, I approached the professor. My maneuver did not go unnoticed by Hermione, and she hurried to join me - in case there was something interesting.

"Professor Flitwick, may I ask you a question?"

The professor was going through some papers of his own, taking his time getting off the makeshift stand in front of the pulpit - a stand of books.

"Yes, Mr. Knight, Miss Granger?" Flitwick looked at us with a smile.

"Going through the study materials for many subjects, looking at the theories and methods of witchcraft, I wondered why we need all this." I wanted to ask another question but remembered in time that Flitwick had already wrapped us up once with occlumency. Why would he suddenly answer now? But I have other questions, too.

Hermione and the professor looked at me in amazement, as if they were seeing me for the first time.

"Um... Clarify, please, Mr. Knight."

"Okay. Already in the first year, we noticed that with frequent use of a spell, the accuracy of the gesture is no longer needed. Even now, I have a number of spells in my arsenal for which I only need to point my wand at the target."

"So do I," Hermione nodded. "Some simple spells stop needing a gesture by the tenth use."

"Leviosa is already created without Wingardium."

"All that remains is the image and the will. We cannot do without them yet."

"I see," the professor nodded, glancing from me to Hermione and back again. "I see the point of your question. Well, let's go into my office."

The professor deftly jumped off the bookstand and hurried to the door to the adjoining cabinet. He waved his hand to us, saying, "Follow me."

The cabinet was quite cozy, and unlike McGonagall's cabinet, which was practically empty, with bare stone walls and furniture, here was much cozier. The walls were well decorated with dark and light wood. Several large bookcases, shelves of medal and trophy awards, several obviously hunting trophies on the walls, and one horn of an unknown creature on a stand rested on a large work-table next to the inkwell.

The professor briskly made his way to the closet with the opaque doors closed, opened it, and it was dark, but Flitwick himself was actively rummaging inside, clearly looking for something.

"Aha, there it is..."

With both hands, the professor pulled out a rather massive object that looked like binoculars. Externally, the object looked like a binocular made of copper tubes with different diameters, metal rings with a myriad of different runes, some other incomprehensible devices, and movable elements, and in the middle part through the tube, obviously, something must be fed.

"A most interesting invention, I tell you," Flitwick grinned as he climbed into his chair by his desk and placed the item down, beckoning us closer with his hand. "Just need a small addition."

Opening his desk drawer, the professor pulled out and placed on the desk a compact, no bigger than a liter and a half bottle, an elaborate combination of chemical test tubes and other containers assembled into one system with many tubes.

"What is this, Professor?" Hermione couldn't restrain her curiosity, looking at this miracle of magical technopunk with interest.

"And these, gentlemen students, are special glasses to see magic. Yes, yes, don't be surprised," Flitwick looked at our perplexed faces with a smile. "We just need a little preparation..."

The professor took a vial of transparent potion out of the desk drawer, conjured up a glass of water, and poured a couple of drops of the potion into it. Then he took out a flexible tube and connected one end of the construction to the binocular-like structure I'd never noticed before.

"A little more..." with these words, Flitwick took a glass with a mixture of water and potion and began to carefully pour it into one of the flasks in the construction. When the required amount of the mixture was in the construct, the professor set the glass with the tiny residue aside, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms into a lock.

"There are literally seconds left to wait."

Well, we know how to wait.