Cheshire, Rabbit Street.
Night had firmly fallen by the time Charlie briskly stepped into his terraced apartment building.
He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, right at the very top. With a satisfying click of the lock, Charlie pushed open the door and stepped into his room, a cramped space barely pushing a hundred square feet. The attic ceiling was pitched so low that even at eleven years old, a sudden jump would guarantee him a bloody nose and a cracked skull against the wooden rafters.
The room's only window was a tiny, slanted pane of glass built directly into the roof. The sole source of illumination was a naked tungsten bulb hanging precariously from an exposed, retrofitted wire.
Furnishings were sparse. There was a battered wardrobe, a mattress slapped directly onto the floorboards, and an old desk paired with a creaky chair. Resting on the desk was Charlie's livelihood: a manual candy press, a cheap electric hob, and two small iron pots.
Stepping onto the rotting floorboards, Charlie shoved his newly acquired magical purchases into the wardrobe. He pulled off his newsboy cap and tossed it onto the desk.
Poof.
Mid-air, the hat twisted violently and transformed back into a ginger rabbit. The little creature landed softly and began curiously sniffing its surroundings.
Just as Charlie reached out to lift the shape-shifting rabbit off his workspace, the distinct sound of shuffling footsteps drifted into his ears.
He stepped out of his room and peered down the hallway. At the top of the stairs, an elderly figure was slowly pulling herself up by the banister. Charlie hurried over to help her.
"Mrs. Martha, what are you doing all the way up here?"
"I came to see what all the clattering and banging was about," the old woman replied, catching her breath.
Mrs. Martha was the owner of the building. Three years ago, when the vagrant who had raised Charlie passed away, Charlie had been fully prepared to return to sleeping in alleyways. Instead, this kindhearted landlady had taken him in and offered him the attic room.
"I only just walked through the door. What could I possibly be banging about for?" Charlie smiled warmly. Then, remembering his Hogwarts letter, he added, "Actually, Mrs. Martha, I will be moving out soon."
"Moving out? Where to?" Her wrinkled hand shot out and gripped his arm tightly. "Why aren't you staying here? Is the room not good enough?"
"No, no, the room is perfectly fine. I am just going away for a bit. I cannot stay here forever. I have been accepted into a boarding school."
At first, Mrs. Martha looked entirely unconvinced. But as the words sank in, she slowly nodded.
"A church school, then?" she asked, assuming it was a charitable institution.
"Something very similar to that. They sent me an official letter of acceptance today, complete with a special bursary fund for orphans."
"Oh, well that is wonderful news. But why did you say you were moving out? Surely you will come back during the holidays to visit an old woman?" She shot him a pointed, reprimanding look.
"Of course I will. I promise," Charlie laughed.
A short while later, after a bit more shuffling and dragging, Charlie pulled a battered trunk into the center of the tiny attic. It was an old thing with slightly rusted iron clasps, but it was just his size.
When he had left Diagon Alley, the shopkeepers at Flourish and Blotts and the cauldron shop had conveniently packed his purchases into paper bags enchanted with rudimentary Extension Charms. This neatly explained how he had managed to lug such an absurd amount of weight back to Chester single-handedly. However, those cheap charms were notoriously unstable and wore off within days. The sturdy trunk Mrs. Martha had gifted him was exactly what he needed to properly pack for his new school.
After sprinkling some rabbit food for his new companion, Charlie sat cross-legged on his mattress, curiously twirling his new wand between his fingers.
He pulled up his system interface and focused on the Specialization List.
[Current Specialization Targets Available: None]
Charlie sighed. Could he really not specialize his wand? Or perhaps he simply did not have enough Wonder Dust to afford it? It was incredibly frustrating. He had finally stepped into the magical world, yet his system was still playing hard to get.
By now, the moon had fully risen, casting a thin, silvery beam through the slanted attic window.
Charlie walked over and pushed the glass pane open, gazing up at the night sky. His eyes naturally drifted back to his interface, landing on his singular active trait: Natural Harvest.
Previously, he had been forced to gather sunlight with his bare hands. Now, he had a wand.
He pointed his rowan wand at the ethereal streams of moonlight spilling into the room. Slowly, he began to stir the air, twirling the wood like a stick in a cotton candy machine. A faint, almost magnetic resistance built up at the wand's tip. Gradually, the silvery light was drawn in, wrapping around the wood. After a few moments of careful swirling, a cluster of glowing, silver candy floss materialized in his hand.
"It actually worked," Charlie whispered, his face lighting up. But he was not finished.
He quickly cupped his free hand around the glowing mass to protect it and hurried over to his desk. Popping the cork off a small, empty glass vial, he used his wand to guide the silver brilliance inside. The light slowly condensed, turning into a heavy, luminous liquid.
After several minutes of intense concentration, two shimmering drops of silver Moon Dew rested at the bottom of the vial.
Staring at his creation, Charlie felt a surge of curiosity. If sunlight provided a feeling of physical warmth and accelerated the healing of minor physical wounds, what miraculous properties did moonlight hold?
Instead of merely guessing, he decided an experiment was in order.
He switched on the electric hob and set a pan of water to boil. Shortly after, he placed a small bowl filled with Cadbury dark chocolate over the steaming water to gently melt. This was Charlie's ultimate trade secret. Store-bought Cadbury chocolate, melted down and infused with a touch of magic. He certainly didn't have the funds or the equipment to harvest and roast his own cocoa beans from scratch. Perhaps one day, but not today.
Once the chocolate had melted into a smooth, glossy pool, Charlie tipped exactly one drop of Moon Dew into the mix.
As he stirred, the liquid moonlight blended into the dark chocolate. Faint silver threads swirled through the rich brown mixture, surfacing and vanishing like shooting stars in a night sky.
Five minutes later, he poured the enchanted mixture into his candy molds and set them aside to cool.
Refusing to just sit around and watch chocolate harden, Charlie pulled out his brand new copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. He skimmed through the foreword, noting the basic concepts of spellcasting, wand safety, and magical theory, before finally landing on the very first practical page.
The Wand-Lighting Charm.
It was the perfect starter spell for a child. The incantation was Lumos, meaning light, and the wand movement was a delightfully simple downward point followed by a slight upward flick.
"Lu... mos."
Charlie waved his wand. A spark of cold, silver-blue light sputtered at the tip, but it fizzled out a second later, leaving the room dim once more.
"Lu... mos," he tried again. He wasn't the least bit discouraged. He never expected to master literal magic on his very first attempt.
After several more determined tries, the spell finally clicked. A steady orb of light bloomed at the end of his wand. It was only about the brightness of a single candle, completely lacking the cinematic flair of illuminating the entire room, but it was a resounding success nonetheless. Charlie felt a deep swell of satisfaction.
With an active spell now in play, he called up his system once more.
[Specialization Target Available: Wand-Lighting Charm]
Aha! So skills, or rather spells, could be specialized.
Without a second thought, he willed the system to initiate the upgrade.
His stock of Wonder Dust began to rapidly deplete. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen... it finally stopped ticking down at ten.
Five entire points to specialize a basic lighting charm? Charlie clicked his tongue. At this exorbitant rate, his meager savings of Wonder Dust were going to vanish in no time.
The text on his interface blurred and twisted, resolving into a brand new spell.
[Lumos Sprite-Swarm]
The incantation remained Lumos, but it seemed he now had a secondary casting option.
Curious, Charlie gave his wand a deliberate, sweeping flick.
"Lu... mos."
Instead of a single orb of light, a dozen thumb-sized, glowing silver figures burst from the tip of his wand, fluttering wildly around the attic.
What on earth were these?
Before Charlie could even process the sight, a sharp, blinding spike of pain exploded behind his temples.
He immediately dropped his arm, canceling his focus on the spell. He rubbed his temples furiously, trying to soothe the agonizing throbbing in his head.
Why was the pain so intense? It felt as though his brain was being squeezed in a vice. Was summoning a dozen of these creatures the magical equivalent of casting a dozen regular Lumos charms simultaneously?
After waiting for the worst of the migraine to pass, he extended his palm. One of the tiny glowing figures fluttered down and landed softly on his skin.
It possessed tiny arms and legs, though it lacked any distinct facial features. Two pairs of sharply pointed wings sprouted from its back. The light radiating from its body was incredibly soft, allowing Charlie to stare directly at it without hurting his eyes.
A strange thought slowly crept into his mind. These little beings looked remarkably like... fairies?
Fascinatingly, once they were summoned into the room, they didn't seem to drain his energy or cause him any further magical strain. That was certainly a relief.
Although Charlie desperately wanted to study his new creation further, the lingering, throbbing pain in his head was making him incredibly nauseous.
"Nox," he whispered, giving his wand a lazy wave to cast the counter-charm. The glowing sprites dissolved into silver mist, fading into nothingness. The attic was plunged back into the dim, yellow glow of the tungsten bulb.
He looked over at his desk. The chocolate in the molds had completely set.
"Right then," Charlie murmured. "Moonlight chocolate. Let us see what you can do."
He snapped off a small piece and popped it into his mouth.
It melted instantly. Unlike the sunlight chocolate, which sent a rush of physical warmth radiating outward from his stomach, the moonlight chocolate was entirely different. It was cool and crisp. It felt a bit like a powerful mint, but rather than freezing his throat, it felt exactly like a gentle, refreshing summer breeze.
The cool energy traveled straight up to his head. In the blink of an eye, the agonizing migraine completely vanished. The crushing magical exhaustion was washed away, replaced by a profound sense of mental clarity and complete rejuvenation.