Chapter 29
Inside Hagrid's hut.
Gabin sat cross-legged on the sagging sofa, the thick volume *From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon-Keeper's Guide* open across his knees. He read quietly, absorbed.
In front of him sat a plate of freshly baked rock cakes and a steaming mug of coffee.
From the end of the Quidditch match through to the Easter holidays, Gabin had spent most of his time in the Room of Requirement, honing spells. The past two weeks had been devoted almost entirely to the Mending Charm; before that, to the Lumos Charm.
The results had been impressive.
Gabin glanced at the book, then flicked his right hand idly through the air. Pinpricks of light appeared from nowhere, coalescing into floating words.
**
It was the title of one of the short tales in the dragon-keeping guide.
His wand remained tucked safely in the pocket of his robes. He hadn't drawn it. He hadn't even touched it.
Yes — after weeks of relentless practice, he had finally achieved his first truly wandless, nonverbal spell.
Lumos.
It was the most basic charm taught in *The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)* — the very first one introduced — and, through his magical sight, the spell with the simplest, cleanest circuit structure he had yet observed.
The experience had also taught him exactly why wands mattered so much to wizards.
A wand acted as a stabiliser, channelling and steadying the raw magic a wizard poured out, allowing it to form precise, reliable circuits and produce controlled effects.
That was why underage wizards — those who hadn't yet received a wand — so often caused accidental magic. Without that stabiliser, strong emotions could send magic surging uncontrollably, resulting in unpredictable outbursts: vanishing glass, levitating objects… in extreme cases, especially with naturally powerful young witches and wizards, entire houses had been known to explode.
Wandless magic, by contrast, meant removing the stabiliser entirely. The wizard had to rely solely on mental discipline to shape and contain the magic, forcing it to flow steadily and form the necessary circuits.
It was extraordinarily difficult — bordering on impossible for most. The analogy might be asking someone who had only ever written with a quill to suddenly pick up a brush and produce calligraphy of identical size and stroke weight. Without the tool to guide it, the ink would simply spread and ruin the page.
In this regard, Gabin's natural talents hadn't given him any particular shortcut. Mastery had come only through repetition — endless, patient practice.
Fortunately, his magical reserves continued to grow at an extraordinary rate — easily ten times those of his peers. That meant he could practise from dawn till dusk without exhaustion.
And now, at last, he had succeeded with his very first learned spell: wandless, nonverbal Lumos.
His fingers danced through the air. More motes of light appeared, swirling playfully between them like tiny, luminous fairies, shedding a gentle glow.
With a final flick, the lights snapped into formation — line after line of floating text.
Wandless, nonverbal Lumos — combined with his own modified application.
At the very least, he could now hold conversations without constantly drawing his wand. No more giving the impression he was about to challenge someone to a duel.
Of course, this was only the beginning. Other spells were still in development. They would take time.
After all, he was still only a first-year. He had been at Hogwarts for a mere seven months.
Gabin continued to read, fingers idly practising the light charm while he waited for Hagrid to return.
Lately he had spent the bulk of his time in the Room of Requirement, with only short visits here — to read books he had brought, or the copy of *From Egg to Inferno* he had bought for Hagrid.
And, of course, to eat rock cakes and steadily reinforce his body.
The physical gains weren't dramatic. By using the Softening Charm to partially disrupt the cakes' magical circuits beforehand, he could actually digest them — but that also meant much of their strengthening potential was lost.
Still, the cumulative effect was noticeable. He felt sturdier, more solid. He had even grown two centimetres taller.
That wasn't the main reason he kept coming, though. Rock cakes could only be eaten in moderation before they became uncomfortable.
No — he was here for Hagrid's dragon.
In the chain of events surrounding the Philosopher's Stone, this was the period when Quirrell would trick Hagrid into trading information about getting past Fluffy — in exchange for a dragon egg.
Gabin had been making regular visits precisely to wait for that egg.
He intended to observe the dragon from hatching to the moment it first breathed fire.
He had a strong intuition: by studying that creature, he would finally uncover why the Flame-Freezing Charm's circuits shifted and flickered so unpredictably — and, with luck, master the spell properly.
Once he did, he would have command of all six of the major first-year charms.
More importantly, Incendio (or its controlled variants) was one of the few genuinely offensive spells in a first-year's repertoire. Right now his arsenal consisted mostly of petty hexes passed around among students — useful enough against someone like Malfoy, but worthless in the wider wizarding world.
If he ever faced a real dark wizard, was he supposed to defeat them by making slugs pour endlessly from their nose?
Summer holidays were approaching. Even if this year's plans held no great dangers, preparation cost nothing — and another reliable means of defence was always welcome.
He hadn't yet seen Hagrid return with an egg, but his instincts told him today was the day.
Hagrid still hadn't appeared.
It was Saturday. The night before, after patrol duty in the Forbidden Forest, Gabin had returned to the dormitory to rest. Hagrid had mentioned heading to the village for a drink — his usual habit.
But Hagrid always came back after a few pints. He had never stayed out until ten o'clock in the morning.
Thankfully Gabin had learned the rock-cake recipe from Hagrid himself. With food, coffee, and a good book, the wait wasn't tedious.
He didn't have to wait much longer.
Halfway through the plate, a joyful barking echoed from outside — Fang, in full voice — followed by Hagrid's booming attempts to shush him.
"Fang! Fang! Down, boy! Not today — no jumpin' on me! Quiet now, don't knock the lad over!"
Hagrid's enormous voice carried through the walls, sounding more like a roar than a reprimand.
"Oh? Gabin's here? No trouble at all — I gave him a key ages ago. Likes it here, he does. Likes me rock cakes too. No better lad than Gabin."
The door swung open. Hagrid's massive frame filled the entrance, blotting out the daylight.
His eyes were bloodshot — clearly fresh from a hangover — but they shone with manic excitement, bright as carriage lamps.
"Hey! Gabin, yeh'll never believe what I got last night!"
Hagrid could barely contain himself; his voice boomed loud enough to wake half the grounds.
He clutched his belly protectively with both huge hands, as though cradling something fragile and infinitely precious. He advanced toward Gabin, trembling with glee.
"Yeh'll love this, Gabin. Yeh've got ter love it — yeh like 'em same as I do."
His gaze fell on the dragon-keeping book in Gabin's hands. His eyes practically sparkled.
"Dragon?"
Motes of light appeared before Hagrid's face, arranging themselves into the word — complete with a question mark.
But Gabin already knew the answer.
He shifted to his magical sight, peering at the bundle Hagrid cradled so tenderly.
The same wild excitement that lit Hagrid's face now flickered in Gabin's own eyes.
***
Tl/N : Want to read more of this [+20 Chapter ] and support me, join me on patreon.com/WeirdSensei