The study space fell silent. Mist swirled gently around them, and an awkward tension settled in the air.
Tom stared at Andros, eyes blank and unblinking.
Andros, the towering figure of legend, suddenly avoided that gaze, scratching at his laurel crown like a guilty schoolboy. His bronze cheeks reddened.
The truth was painfully clear.
Andros wasn't joking. He really didn't know how to cast a simple Lighting Charm or Levitation Charm.
---
Ancient vs. Modern
The magical world looked medieval to outsiders, but in reality it was constantly evolving. Progress wasn't measured in new wizards born or in explosive population growth. No—progress meant practicality, convenience, and the careful standardization of spellcasting.
Take Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1. Tom now held a copy, manifested into the learning space. Before Goshawk, nobody had systematically organized spells. Wizards learned haphazardly, passing techniques orally, jealously guarding secrets.
The Lighting and Levitation Charms were both inventions of the 14th and 15th centuries. In Andros's era? They hadn't even been conceived.
So of course he didn't know them.
---
Fireballs and Willpower
Tom sighed and asked anyway, "Then how did you handle illumination and controlling objects before?"
Andros didn't answer at first. Instead, he materialized a wooden stake. His hand rose, and with a flick—
WHOOSH!
A blazing fireball streaked forth, igniting the wood into a roaring torch.
"For light," Andros said calmly, "we used fire. And for moving objects—" he raised a hand, wrapping the stake in invisible pressure. The wood trembled and lifted, floating midair. "We simply bent them with thought and raw magic."
Tom's jaw tightened. So this man didn't just lack modern spells… he thought they were redundant.
"They actually invented specific magic just for these little conveniences, and teach them to children so casually…" Andros muttered, half in disbelief.
---
A Barbaric Age
Tom realized what it meant.
In Andros's time, the world had been harsh, unforgiving. Magic was a weapon for survival. No one shared spells freely. Knowledge was guarded like treasure, because a new spell could mean the difference between life and death.
Daily comforts? Lighting a room? Floating a feather? Nobody cared. They only wanted to blast harder, duel longer, and kill faster.
It wasn't until the rise of the Muggle church in the Middle Ages, with its witch-hunting frenzy, that wizards had been forced to band together, founding schools. From that foundation grew the modern magical curriculum—diverse, structured, civilized.
Tom couldn't decide which was scarier: the primitive savagery of Andros's time, or the bureaucratic neatness of Hogwarts.
---
The "Teacher" Becomes the Student
Andros glanced at the slim book in Tom's hands, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
"Tom," he said carefully, "lend me this Standard Spells book, will you? Perhaps I'll find spells I recognize. If not…" his smile broadened, "we can start with the Patronus Charm, my specialty."
Tom froze.
"…."
He hadn't just summoned a teacher. He had summoned a study partner.
You don't know basic spells and you're already talking about Patronuses? Even with a system, I can't skip straight to the endgame!
Suppressing a groan, Tom forced himself to nod. "Forget it, Mr. Andros. Here."
He handed over the book, then materialized another copy for himself. "Let's study together and make progress together. I promise the future of magic will surprise you."
Andros scratched his head, embarrassed. He had promised to guide Tom, yet here he was being tutored first.
---
System Bonus
Suddenly, text shimmered across Tom's vision:
[Teacher Andros's recognition of the host has reached 20%. The host obtains Andros's magic talent.]
A surge of vigor pulsed through Tom. His mind sharpened; his magical senses felt clearer, steadier. He caught himself smiling.
This was another hidden perk of the system. As his teachers' recognition deepened—20%, 50%, 100%—Tom would unlock their talents and abilities.
Knowledge was valuable, but talent decided ceilings. Hard work and opportunity mattered, yes, but the magical world was cruel: a wizard's raw gifts could determine whether they became great—or forgotten.
With this recognition mechanic, Tom could surpass every one of his tutors, stitching together strengths from across time into a mosaic of power never seen before.
---
Setting the Stage
Tom snapped his fingers, reshaping the empty fog into something livable: tables, chairs, benches, sofas, even a coffee table.
He and Andros sat side by side, each holding Standard Spells: Elementary. The Greek legend leaned forward like an eager student, eyes widening at every page.
The space's rules ensured Andros could read and speak modern English. Otherwise, he'd have been staring helplessly at meaningless scribbles.
And to Tom's faint disbelief, the "teacher" took his studies more seriously than the "student."
---
Ancient Power Meets Elementary School
For Andros, every page was a revelation. Spells for light, for levitation, for cleaning, for mending. His brow furrowed in wonder.
He had spent his life wielding magic as a hammer and sword. To see it refined into delicate tools was staggering.
Andros's mastery of magical principles was so deep that the basics came to him effortlessly. For him, reading Miranda Goshawk was like a graduate student flipping through a first-grade textbook.
Within minutes, he was already testing spells—without a wand.
Tom nearly groaned. If I don't buy every textbook Hogwarts publishes, this guy is going to outpace me with my own system.
---
Tom's Practice
Determined, Tom focused on his own task: the Levitation and Lighting Charms.
This was different from the instinctive bursts of accidental magic he had relied on before. Now he had to channel power through his wand, guided by words and gestures.
He raised his wand over a feather.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The feather trembled… then floated upward.
Success—on the first try.
But it wobbled wildly, drifting out of his control, before flopping back down.
---
Teacher Mode: Activated
Andros's eyes lit up. At last, his role as teacher could begin.
"Again," he instructed. "Show me."
Tom obeyed.
Andros nodded. "As I thought. The book's steps are correct, but magic has no universal standard. Every wizard is different."
He demonstrated, conjuring a wand of his own. His movements were smooth, practiced.
"See? My forearm swings fifteen degrees less than the book prescribes. My body is large; if I followed their motion, I'd overpower the spell and ruin it. For you, with a smaller frame, the swing should be larger. You must adjust until it fits."
Tom's eyes lit with understanding. "So the book is a guide, not a law."
"Exactly," Andros said, his voice firm. "You must experiment until the spell feels like breathing. Only then is it truly yours."
---
Progress
Tom practiced again, adjusting angle, force, rhythm. Slowly, the feather steadied, floating more gracefully with each attempt.
Three hours passed in the blink of an eye.
At last, Tom set the wand down, satisfied.
Though fatigue vanished the moment he exited the space, the habit of decades lingered. He valued rest. And with only 100 credits to his name, he had to use the study space sparingly. Fifteen hours total—that was all.
Better to be frugal.
With a nod to Andros, Tom stepped back into reality, ready for sleep.
---