Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Lily stood in the center of the classroom, eyes bright. "What are we practicing?"

Regulus didn't answer right away. He looked at her first, reaching out with his senses to read her magical signature for the first time.

Though "reaching out" was generous. He glanced at her once, shifting from surface to something deeper, and that was enough.

A standard young witch.

He knew, of course, that raw magical strength didn't tell the whole story. Two people with similar reserves could cast the same spell and get wildly different results. Some had talent. Some didn't. Some loved a particular branch of magic. Some couldn't be bothered. Some drilled every day. Some forgot everything the moment class ended. Some cast with empty minds. Others cast with deep understanding of what their spell was supposed to do.

But from where he stood, those differences didn't matter much.

Past a certain threshold, power was power. No wizard with vast reserves was ever truly weak. They might dislike combat, might hate fighting altogether, but weakness wasn't an option. That much magic was its own kind of strength, whether you wanted it to be or not.

Lily was nowhere near that threshold. Not remotely close.

Few wizards ever reached it, in truth. Only those who walked deeper into magic itself, not those who merely learned to cast spells.