Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is not meant to infringe upon copyrights.
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The next few days were filled with activity for Kyle, who spent his days holed up in his room experimenting with various spells.
Despite his wizarding family background, his chances to cast magic before school were few and far between.
First, for both Chris and Diana, their wands were incredibly precious, almost like a second life. They couldn't just be left to Kyle.
Only at Christmas and on Kyle's birthday did he get to play with them.
Of course, Kyle knew his limits, casting spells like Illumination or Unlocking, spells that, even if they failed, had no negative effects on the wand.
Another factor was wand compatibility.
Even though he was Chris and Diana's son, their wands showed no regard for Kyle; their resistance was palpable.
Diana's wand, in particular, was like an ordinary stick in Kyle's hands; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get a single reaction.
Consequently, Kyle spent most of his time dealing with Quidditch, herbs, and magical creatures, rarely engaging in actual spells.
After eleven years of waiting, he finally had his own wand, so he had to use it properly.
Chris had no objections, and occasionally, he'd enthusiastically offer guidance, fulfilling his teacher's dream.
Consequently, Kyle's room was constantly ablaze with different spells.
For the first few days, it was fine; Kyle's practice was just basic, and it didn't bother anyone else.
But as time went on and Kyle's spells grew, problems began to arise.
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At the living room dining table, Chris, sipping tea, watched helplessly as the cup across from him suddenly left the table and began to slowly float upstairs.
However, Chris seemed accustomed to this, calmly placing the cup back on the table and tapping it gently with his wand.
After doing all this, he looked up and called out, "Kyle, be sure to have a clear target in mind when you cast the Spell. Also, I suggest you start by summoning a quill, or even parchment; at least they won't break."
"Okay, Dad,"
Kyle replied, but Chris had no idea whether he'd heard him. He thought it was highly unlikely.
After all, situations like today had happened several times before. He'd cast more Restoration spells in that single day than he had in the previous ten years combined. He'd had to cast the Anti-Spell on every fragile object in the house.
"Whoosh..."
Just as he was thinking, a piece of bread flew past his head and landed on the ceiling with a "crack."
"..."
He had to admit, judging by the effect alone, Kyle had made significant progress. At least this time, the Spell was much faster than last time.
"Ah!"
Chris sighed, calmly waving his wand and returning the loaf of bread to the kitchen, while mentally admiring Diana's wisdom and foresight.
Thank goodness she confiscated Kyle's cauldron on the first day, otherwise who knows what would have become of this family.
Eleven-year-old wizards are indeed notoriously hated by everyone, and that goes for the Weasleys next door, and his family is no exception.
Fortunately, these days are almost over, as Hogwarts will start tomorrow.
This is really good news!
Chris picked up the tea and took a sip with a satisfied look on his face.
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Evening soon arrived.
Diana, having been away on a mission, hadn't returned.
Chris, who knew nothing about cooking, gladly accepted Mrs. Weasley's invitation and brought Kyle and some prepared ingredients to the nearby Burrow for a meal.
Unsurprisingly, his behavior angered Mrs. Weasley, who thought it was wrong for him to bring food with him, and a distrust of their friendship, and she berated him profusely.
Chris didn't argue, simply throwing his things into the kitchen and jokingly agreeing.
Kyle, on the other hand, had naturally blended in with the Weasley children.
He was accustomed to this scene.
Their family didn't have house elves, so whenever Diana couldn't return on a mission, the two of them would come to the Weasleys for a meal.
This scene recurred every time they came, a fixture.
Not far away, in the open space, Kyle and a few Weasleys were helping to clean up the gnomes.
It was called cleaning, but it was really just play.
One person would grab a gnome by its legs and throw it into the air, while another, wielding a wooden club, would hit it like a bludger. The player who hit the gnome the farthest was the winner and received the first-place prize: a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
Initially, Chris disapproved of their game, believing that simply throwing the gnomes was enough; there was no need for a bat.
But one day, after discovering that the grass mantle he had painstakingly cultivated for a year, now ripe, had been completely destroyed by the gnomes, he stopped trying to stop Kyle.
A few days later, for Christmas, he even gave Kyle a beautifully crafted bat signed by a batsman from the Wimbourne Wasps.
The bat was incredibly smooth to use and felt great when struck, and it had helped Kyle win five consecutive championships.
Today was no exception.
"That's not fair."
Ron said bitterly, looking at Kyle's signed baseball bat and then at the wooden stick he'd picked up. "The equipment gap is huge."
"Not that exaggerated. Equipment and such are secondary. What's important is the inner conviction to win. I won not because my equipment is better, but because I want to win more than you do,"
Kyle said calmly, picking up a red bean and throwing it over. "Also, Ron, before you complain about the equipment, at least beat Ginny. Her stick is much smaller than yours."
There were five people in the game, and Ron was in last place. Even Ginny's time was several meters ahead of his.
After Kyle finished speaking, Ron's face flushed. Losing to his sister in this area was certainly not a glorious thing.
However, his attention was quickly drawn to the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans that Kyle tossed him.
Bright red, beautiful to look at, and the taste... raspberry!
Sure enough, the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans Kyle gave him were always delicious.
The sweet taste in his mouth made Ron squint his eyes unconsciously, and at the same time, a hint of envy rose in his heart. He really didn't know how Kyle managed to always pick out the best-tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
He couldn't do that. He always got pig liver, spinach, and even dragon dung.
That fishy smell mixed with the fermented rotten berries was simply unbeatable. Ron felt his stomach churn at the mere thought of it.
[End of the chapter]