Noah was inside his trunk, in the improvised training field.
The ground was littered with broken dummies and shattered objects — the remains of an entire afternoon of failed attempts.
Sweat dripped down his forehead as he leaned forward with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Beside him, the quill kept writing on its own, filling page after page with neat observations.
He raised the black wand tipped with a ruby and stared at it with a mix of frustration and curiosity.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The dummy in front of him only shivered before collapsing sideways. The magic slipped away, as if the wand simply refused to acknowledge the spell.
"Why won't you work with basic charms?" he muttered.
He had already tested a dozen of them. Simple wand movements, standard incantations — from Lumos to Incendio. None had worked.
At best, he got a dim light for a few seconds or a harmless spark.
But it wasn't like the wand was useless.
There was an exception.
His own spells.
Noah flicked his wrist lightly, visualizing his personal fire magic. No theatrics. Just focus.
The flames burst out instantly, brighter and fiercer than usual, devouring the wooden target within seconds.
The impact left him breathless, but a smile crept across his face.
"You really only respond to my magic, huh…"
Or maybe not just his — but magic that carried identity. Unique spells, personal spells.
In the days that followed, Noah continued testing. After countless trials, doubts, and pages of notes, he finally pieced together more answers.
The wand was absorbing his magic passively. Not just when he cast a spell — simply being in contact with him was enough.
"I don't know what you're hiding," he mused, "but it looks like you can't draw from the world directly. You need an intermediary…"
That was one observation. Another was just as fascinating.
"Burn."
He flicked the wand again. A basic flame spell — one of his simplest.
The fire roared, consuming the dummy three times faster than normal.
That was the wand's gift: it amplified his magic.
Which was amazing… but not free.
The strain was much heavier. Mentally and physically. His body acted as a conduit between the world's magic and the wand — like any wizard — but now the spells came out denser, wilder.
Through his right eye, he could see it clearly: the wand absorbed ordinary magic, but when it was released, it had transformed — rawer, purer, more dangerous.
"My fire is my strongest magic, and I control it well… But I wonder how hard it would be with something new I've just learned."
For some reason, he wasn't eager to find out.
If he were an ordinary wizard, he'd just buy another wand and keep two. He couldn't get one from Ollivanders right now, but he suspected he could find a generic one elsewhere. And if this wand ever tried to dominate the other, he could always lock it away in a rune-sealed box.
But he didn't truly need that. His wandless magic was already sharp. If he wanted to use standard spells, he could just cast without a wand.
"Does that mean… every spell I want with you, I'll have to create myself?"
A crooked smile spread across his face.
It didn't sound like a curse. Not entirely.
Fire was his calling card. His most reliable power. But he had never planned to stop there.
The other elements would come in time — water, earth, air.
And beyond them: space, time, life, death… even destiny.
His ambition had already carved a path filled with challenges. He never intended to change that.
Clutching the wand firmly, Noah smiled as a sphere of fire formed at its tip.
"Follow me on this journey. I'll feed you all the magic in the world. And together, we'll go where no one else has ever stood." His voice was steady, resolute. "You chose me, and I choose you. Be mine."
The wand trembled — so faintly that even Noah didn't notice. The fireball at its tip rose into the air, climbing higher and higher as the room's temperature spiked.
After finishing his experiments, Noah spent his last days before Hogwarts with his family.
"So," his father asked, "how does it feel to use a wand?"
"Incredible," Noah admitted with a grin. "I feel several times stronger."
Laura's eyes softened. "That's good, but don't get greedy. The most important thing is to study calmly and make the right choices."
"I understand," Noah reassured her, sitting by her side. "Actually… I think I'll take it slow during my first year. Enjoy school a little."
Both parents blinked in surprise.
"Are you sick or something?" Adam asked. "Laura, check if he has a fever."
Noah chuckled as his mother pressed her hand to his forehead. "I'm fine. I just want a fun school year. Nick told me there's no better time to enjoy life than at school. And since he's over six hundred years old, I'll take his advice seriously."
Of course, he was also keeping his promise to his grandfather.
Adam seemed to recall something. "Son, tomorrow I've got a surprise for you."
Curiosity gnawed at Noah, but his father wouldn't say more. He only discovered what it was the next morning.
Laura led him out behind the manor to a wide open field stretching toward the forest.
There, in the middle of the plain, Adam was waiting.
But he wasn't dressed as usual. Instead, he wore light clothes — a white long-sleeved shirt, gray trousers, protective pads on knees and elbows, and even a helmet.
And in each hand, he held a broom.
"Ready to learn how to fly?"