Merlin closed the door behind him, then opened the briefcase and eagerly pulled out The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk.
Lying down on the bed, he flipped it open and began reading eagerly. The first chapter was a preface. Miranda Goshawk spoke about the history of spellcraft and how wizards once relied on crude gestures and guttural chants before the refinement of proper spellcasting.
There were also anecdotes—early spellwrights who accidentally set their own hair aflame while attempting to invent "a safer method of lighting fires," and duelists whose incantations stretched into full poems.
As he read further, the text gradually shifted from history to structure, describing the key components of casting a spell.
Regardless of complexity, she listed three crucial components—wand movement, incantation, and an element she called belief.
'Belief?'
Goshawk seemed to put particular emphasis on the word; it was written in bold and repeated several times.
According to her, "A wizard's belief must be firm and certain. Doubt scatters focus as wind scatters flame."
Merlin's eyes shone with interest. 'So even in magic, uncertainty weakens results?'
It sounded reasonable, and he wondered if stronger belief could make a spell more powerful.
He turned another page. The book covered eight charms in total, each with its own section—title, purpose, wand movement, and incantation. There were diagrams showing proper wand arcs, notes on common mistakes, and illustrations of posture. The margins held brief reminders about safety and practice.
Merlin appreciated the thoroughness. It felt less like a children's textbook and more like a manual.
He skimmed through the list of charms, reading only their titles and purposes before returning to the very first one—The Wand-Lighting Charm (Lumos).
The description explained its origin: a practical charm first popularized by explorers and later standardized by the Ministry for fieldwork. It required a simple upward swish of the wand and a clear incantation—Lumos. The result, according to the text, should be "a steady spark of white light equal to that of a candle flame."
Merlin studied the illustration of the glowing wand tip. He drew his own wand and practiced the motion and incantation separately at first, repeating them until the movement felt natural. Then he decided to try it for real.
'Here goes nothing.'
Taking a steady breath, he waved his wand and whispered, "Lumos."
A faint spark appeared at the wand's tip. It was dim, unsteady—and vanished in less than a second.
"Sure enough, it's not that simple," Merlin muttered, exhaling softly. He replayed the process in his mind, analyzing each step. The wand movement and incantation had been identical to the description. That left only one variable—belief.
'But I did hope that the spell would succeed. Doesn't that count as belief?' He frowned in thought, then lifted his wand once more.
"Lumos."
A faint spark once again bloomed at the tip. The brightness was far from a candle's glow, but this time it stayed.
The cast was a success, but Merlin wasn't satisfied with it. The first time, he speculated he had been too focused externally. This time, he had directed his attention inward and firmly believed that a white, warm, and radiant spark of light would ignite at his wand's tip upon casting the spell.
It wasn't particularly difficult for him, and the result improved noticeably—but it was still far from the ideal result described in the book.
'What went wrong?'
He was sure that with enough practice, he'd eventually reach the textbook effect. But he wanted to understand why he couldn't achieve it now. He had followed every component of spellcasting perfectly—wand movement, incantation, and belief.
Or was he getting the last one wrong again? He wasn't sure, to be honest.
After pondering for a while, he set The Standard Book of Spells aside and pulled another from his briefcase—Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling.
He opened the book and began reading the first chapter.
'What is Magic.'
The heading instantly drew his attention. The chapter began with a discussion on what magic truly was. The author proposed that it was a form of power innate to wizards, speculating that it originated from the soul itself.
Waffling's tone was nothing like Goshawk's. His writing was dense, philosophical, and filled with comparisons and distinctions. It wasn't based on evidence so much as speculation and theory.
The next chapter covered the topic Merlin had just read about in the Book of Spells—the three components of spellcasting, only in much greater detail.
Waffling wrote that magical power was wild and formless by nature, and without an aiding tool, most wizards and witches would find it very hard to control.
A wand was precisely that—it helped wizards channel and shape their magic power during spellcasting, and wand movement was the means to invoke that function.
Incantations served the same purpose. They were words discovered to resonate with magic power, aiding in channeling and shaping it. Combined with wandwork, they allowed even young, inexperienced wizards with almost no control over their magic to cast spells.
However, Waffling emphasized that the true essence of magic still lay in belief—or rather, will, as he called it.
A half-hearted spell, no matter how precise the movement or pronunciation, would fail to take form. There was no explanation as to why these principles worked, only conclusions accepted and refined over generations.
Waffling gave an example of how some wizards in emotionally heightened states, despite having unrefined control over their magic, could suddenly cast nonverbal or even wandless magic in certain situations. This, he claimed, was ultimate proof of the importance of will.
As he delved further into the chapter, Waffling began discussing advanced spellcasting.
According to him, words and gestures were, in the end, merely tools. A wizard with sufficient control over their magic power and a strong enough will could cast spells without either.
This type of spellcasting was widely known as nonverbal magic.
Wandless magic, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast. It required a wizard to have near-perfect control over their magic power and an exceptionally strong will. Even then, casting complex spells remained a challenge.
Most wizards, he remarked, never reached the level of wandless magic in their entire lives.
Merlin continued reading. Later chapters delved into the differences between raw magic and structured spellwork, the limitations of certain spells, and the ways emotion could influence magical stability.
The book was thinner than The Standard Book of Spells, but its contents were far more complex. Each page demanded his full attention, and Waffling's writing made skimming impossible.
Merlin even asked his other self to ponder some of the more complex passages—he wasn't doing anything particularly important anyway.
As he neared the end, Merlin felt his understanding of magic deepen. It was, without question, a good book.
Waffling never claimed to be right; instead, he explored multiple perspectives, comparing theories and referencing scholars, encouraging wizards to think for themselves.
Merlin believed that was the main reason Magical Theory was included in the first-year curriculum—some of its concepts were a bit too advanced for someone just entering the wizarding world.
Fortunately, he also found his answer. The book made it clear that while wand movement and incantation assisted in channeling and shaping magic, the true control came from the wizard himself.
As someone who had just gotten his wand, his control over his magic power and adaptability in using his wand was almost nonexistent. Even with perfect execution, his magic likely scattered before it could fully take shape.
The solution was simple: practice. Repeatedly casting the same spells would gradually strengthen his control until his magic could flow smoothly through the wand and obey his will.
"Since that's the case…" Merlin's hand reached out for his wand, and for a long time, only the faint sound of the incantation echoed through the room.