Chapter 97: Finite
Transfiguration, Finite, and the Disillusionment Charm.
That was the combat spell set Shawn had drawn up for himself. Each gave him a different tool: attack, defence, concealment.
His priority now was to grind the latter two up to Expert, sharpen his real‑world combat ability, and unlock the Proficient title in Charms.
Spell difficulty would spike sharply after The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. He needed to be ready.
"A very sound choice," Professor Flitwick said warmly, directing Shawn to the relevant chapter. The pronunciation and wand movement for Finite were printed there in full.
"Finite Incantatem is a foundational counter‑spell in the charm family. It excels at dispelling low‑level curses and control magic. Cast something, Mr Green."
Shawn cast Aguamenti quietly and made a note about counter‑spells.
He knew some Dark spells had their own specific counters. Snape's Sectumsempra, for instance.
But it was also clear that certain counters worked on a broad range of Dark magic. Finite was one of them.
It served as the counter to many jinxes and hexes alike.
Interestingly, he had thought of it only as a defensive spell. But the principle, on reflection, was not to shield the caster at all. It was to unravel the opponent's attack.
"Finite Incantatem."
Flitwick flicked his wand, and the stream of water vanished without a trace.
"Did you feel it, Mr Green?" Flitwick asked, clasping his hands and setting The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, gently on the worn desk.
"The magic was blocked, Professor," Shawn said.
He had felt the flow of power from his wand meet something solid. Naturally, his spell collapsed.
"Very good. Keen perception," Flitwick said, pacing with barely contained excitement.
"Now try it yourself. End it. Unravel it. Remember, Mr Green…"
"Finite Incantatem!"
Shawn mimicked the professor's motion, imagining the other wizard's spell cut short. His wand snapped downward.
[You practised Finite Incantatem once at Entry standard, Proficiency +3]
The stream Flitwick had just summoned disappeared at once.
"Astonishing progress."
…
In the classroom,
Hermione had spent five straight days immersed in A Beginner's Guide to Ancient Runes. She was naturally drawn to mysterious, powerful writing systems and had already checked out half a dozen more books on the subject.
Justin was cheerfully acting as Shawn's sparring partner. After all, Shawn could hardly practise Finite on thin air.
[You practised Finite Incantatem once at Entry standard, Proficiency +3]
[You practised Finite Incantatem once at Entry standard, Proficiency +3]
The drilling continued until Shawn unlocked the spell.
The rest of their time went to coaching a very enthusiastic little badger.
Neville had recently sent feathers flying all over the place, so Justin had decided to learn Finite himself. That way, Neville would not be afraid to practise Levitation on blocks of wood – Neville was terrified of losing control and hitting someone.
What Shawn had not expected was that his newly learned spell would see real combat so soon.
…
After October arrived, the weather turned even colder.
The mountains surrounding the school went grey and dim, occasionally dusted with thin ice and snow. The lake was beginning to freeze at the edges.
The students pulled on gloves and scarves. Their favourite pastime now was clustering by the hearth to chat, finish homework or play games.
Friday afternoon.
Charms classroom.
There was no fireplace in here, so it was bitterly cold. Add to that the new spell Professor Flitwick had introduced today – Aguamenti – and everyone was being cautious, terrified they would drench themselves.
Flitwick demonstrated the wand motion again. It flowed like he was painting a winding stream in the air.
"Keep your wrist loose, not stiff. The incantation is Aguamenti. Say it clearly, like the splash of a spring, not like you are hurling bricks."
The room quickly filled with murmurs and the swish of wands cutting through the air.
Justin waved his wand carefully. A thin trickle spurted from the tip. It was weak, but pointed in the right direction, and he sagged with relief.
He glanced back.
Shawn had shaped his stream into an arching bridge, then flicked his wand and muttered a cleaning charm. The water evaporated before it could fall.
"Oh. That is brilliant," Justin murmured, beaming with pride.
"Very good, Mr Green. Two points to Ravenclaw," Professor Flitwick called, walking over and nodding with satisfaction.
"And nice improvement, Mr Finnigan. One point to Hufflepuff."
Justin's smile grew warmer still.
Among the sea of Ravenclaw blue and Hufflepuff yellow, one flash of Gryffindor scarlet stood out sharply.
Seamus Finnigan. After his string of explosions, Flitwick had made him attend extra practice sessions and was keeping a close eye on him.
As close an eye as he kept on Shawn, the professor's gaze had been bouncing between the two of them all lesson.
Seamus was frowning, face set with grim determination.
He reminded himself not to fail again. And if he did fail, at least not to blow anything up.
He clung tight to Flitwick's words: "strength" and "pour forth." He told himself he had to succeed just once.
He gripped his wand as if it were not a wand at all, but the reins of a wild horse he needed to break.
"Aguamenti!" Seamus roared, swinging his wand in a wild arc.
Things did not go as planned.
No clear spring water appeared. Not even a few stray drops.
Instead, there was an earsplitting crack, like an overinflated water balloon bursting at high pressure.
A torrent of water – thick as a charging bull and utterly out of control – exploded from Seamus's wand tip.
Professor Flitwick had his back turned. By the time he noticed, the freezing jet was hurtling straight for him.
But behind the water, a pair of green eyes gleamed.
"Finite Incantatem!"
A flash of light pulsed from Shawn's wand. The torrent met something invisible in midair and dissolved.
[You practised Finite Incantatem once at Proficient standard, Proficiency +10]
Shawn lowered his wand. Flitwick was trembling with fury.
"Three points from Gryffindor!"
A few seconds later, the professor had calmed, but he still made Seamus write a hundred lines:
I am a wizard, not a baboon waving a stick.