"Isn't this, like, a bit advanced?"
"It's not like I'm asking you to cast spells without a wand."
"I'm still a child!"
"Heh..."
Charles was speechless. According to Jack, he wouldn't pass the lesson unless he could cast spells silently.
Jack gave him a few last words before vanishing with a pop of Apparition. "Focus. Catch that feeling when the spell clicks. Once you've got that, the wand is just optional. Keep practicing—I'm off to buy groceries."
So Charles stayed behind with Jack's wand, practicing the Levitation Spell and the Slam Spell, using them to repeatedly bash a massive stone.
The amount of magic both spells consumed was directly proportional to the weight of the object. And the rock Jack left for him to practice on? Weighed well over a ton. At the moment, Charles could only manage to float it about the height of his palm.
He'd once asked Jack about magical capacity. The old man had pointed at Harry—the garden gnome currently watering the lawn—and explained it like this: "A wizard's magical power is like a water tank. How much you've got depends on the size of the tank. But how much you can use at once? That depends on the width of the pipe."
Harry, apparently, had both a big tank and a thick pipe. Not bad for a lawn ornament, Jack had said, and worth hauling over just to enjoy the view.
Charles had also asked about his own potential. Jack's answer was always the same: "Not as good as mine."
Not even half an hour later, Jack returned, trailing behind him eight long spider legs that were floating along like obedient pets.
"How do you want them cooked?" he asked. "I'll handle dinner tonight."
"Roasted," Charles said immediately.
Jack gave a nod and headed off to prep them, leaving Charles to continue spell practice.
Spider legs, it turned out, had both simple and complicated cooking methods. The easy one? Pour a bit of booze into the broken ends, let them soak for two or three hours, then roast them over charcoal and serve with salt and pepper. Dudley, that vacuum of a neighbor, could scarf down two legs per sitting.
The fancier method involved extracting the meat, grinding it into spider-meatballs, and tossing them into soup. Harry was particularly fond of that one.
Of course, neither of those two had any idea what kind of meat they were actually eating.
After dinner, Jack leaned back and said, "In combat, magic alone won't save you. You need to move. Standing still like a stump just makes you easier to hit. You need to learn to dodge."
Charles, busy licking the last of his caramel pudding, replied, "Dodging? I'm actually pretty good at that. Coach always said my reflexes are top-notch."
Jack shook his head. "Wizard duels aren't boxing matches. In the ring, you can afford to tank a few punches with the tough parts of your body. But with the Killing Curse? Whether it hits your toe or your forehead, the result is the same—lights out."
"So starting tonight, you're going to practice dodging every night. When I cast a spell, you roll."
Charles nodded. Jack's magical knowledge far outweighed his own, and if he said dodging was a survival skill, then it was a survival skill.
They began practice right away.
"You trying to kill me?!" Charles shouted, diving to the side.
"It's just the Killing Curse," Jack said casually. "Just dodge it and you'll be fine."
"Avada Kedavra!"
Charles flung himself to the left just in time, narrowly avoiding the flash of green light that whizzed past him.
Jack frowned thoughtfully. "Hmm… maybe opening with Avada Kedavra is a bit much. Let's switch it up."
Charles had just exhaled in relief when Jack suddenly barked, "Cruciatus!"
Charles froze, this time too slow. A searing red light hit him square in the backside.
"AAAHHHHH!"
"...Aah?"
Charles stood up, rubbing the spot where the curse had hit him. He looked a little puzzled.
"Huh. That actually didn't hurt as much as I thought. Just stung a bit… like a vaccine shot."
Jack gave him a smile so gentle it was suspicious. "Silly boy. The Cruciatus Curse only works if the caster genuinely enjoys inflicting pain. I wasn't actually trying to torture you, so of course it didn't do much."
Charles laughed sheepishly.
But Jack's expression suddenly darkened.
"Who was it that told those ladies this spring that I was looking for a new companion?"
"Cruci—"
"WAIT, NO—!"
"Cruciatus!"
A flash of red.
Charles broke into a cold sweat and flung himself sideways with every ounce of strength he had. This time, it was very clear—Grandpa was actually trying to hit him.
---
In the days that followed, Charles received some… highly effective training.
He practiced the Floating Charm and Slam Curse combo no less than a thousand times a day. His movements became smoother, his spellwork faster—and then he developed carpal tunnel syndrome.
Fortunately, it was a common ailment among wizards. Jack knew a healing charm or two and fixed him right up.
After a few more days, Charles finally managed to cast spells without speaking the incantation aloud—though his lips still twitched a little when he did it.
Jack, meanwhile, had set up a table and tea set nearby, sipping from his cup and reading The Lord of the Rings while occasionally glancing over at Charles's progress.
At lunch, Jack said, "We'll start on the Summoning Charm and Throwing Spell this afternoon. Use the same stone pile to practice."
Charles nodded, chewing on a sandwich.
He was beginning to suspect that when the old man said, "Just learn three spells," he didn't mean three incantations, but rather three entire combat techniques. The Floating Charm was for control. The Throwing Spell? Interference. The last one would obviously be all about dealing damage.
Jack continued, "In battle, the Summoning Charm lets you grab stuff from afar—rocks, enemies, petrified enemies… you name it. Then, use the Throwing Spell to hurl it at your target. Sometimes, that does more damage than magic itself. You'll need to master both without a wand."
Charles, who had been imagining throwing people at other people, blinked in confusion—then frowned.
"Wait, wandless too? Isn't that a little much?"
Jack shook his head. "Did you use a wand when you Apparated?"
Charles paused, then slowly shook his head.
"Exactly," Jack said. "The Three Ds—Destination, Determination, Deliberation—are the same principles behind wandless magic."
"Wandless casting works just like Apparition. First, focus your intent on the target. Then, decide with all your will that you will cast the spell. Lastly, grab onto that feeling—that spark—and let the magic out. The spell will follow."
To Charles, this sounded suspiciously like one of those genius students explaining math by saying, "It's obvious," or "You just flip it and it works," or worse—"Q.E.D."
Jack was great for beginner lessons… but for advanced theory? Maybe not so much.
Still, Charles had no choice but to keep smashing rocks in search of that elusive "spark."
Over dinner, Charles suddenly slapped his thigh.
"Ah, crap! We still need to buy school stuff! My textbooks and robes and things—we have to go to Diagon Alley. But since you're pretending to be a Muggle now, we don't even know how to get there!"
Jack froze mid-bite. "Oh, right… I am a Muggle now. How the hell do we find Diagon Alley? And we'll need to stop by Gringotts, too… trade out some coins…"
He tapped his chopsticks on the edge of the bowl, deep in thought.
"Alright, after dinner we'll head back. Maybe Hogwarts left us a clue or something."
After finishing their meal, they headed into the cave. With a familiar "biu!", their car popped out onto a nearby road, and they drove all the way back to Number 3, Privet Drive.
There, waiting in the mailbox, was a letter.
They'd been instructed to meet someone at Charing Cross Road in London the next day at noon. That person would escort them to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies.
(End of Chapter)