Chapter 10 Awakening the Magus Gift?
"I cannot cast magic. So I cannot teach you magic either."
Mrs. Figg set the basket aside and sat down across from Dudley with a look of regret.
Dudley could clearly hear the sorrow in her tone.
To be born into the wizarding world yet unable to use magic—this was more than just regret.
"Even if I could use magic, I couldn't teach you. Learning magic requires attending Hogwarts. That is the rule of the wizarding world."
As she spoke, Mrs. Figg began tidying the messy room.
One cat was disruptive enough. Add three more and a monster book, and it was chaos.
"Hogwarts?"
Dudley joined in cleaning, debating whether to tell her about the current state of the monster book.
Surely he wouldn't have to pay for it?
What currency did wizards even use? Some kind of gold coin, perhaps.
"Yes, the finest school of magic in the world." At the mention of Hogwarts, Mrs. Figg's eyes brightened.
"Harry will certainly go there one day."
Her voice was filled with longing.
Hearing this made Dudley's heart stir. How he wanted to study magic too.
"Can I go to Hogwarts as well?" he asked without thinking.
Mrs. Figg shook her head. "I don't know, child."
She had expected this question. What child could learn about magic and not long for it?
But in truth, she knew Dudley likely had no chance.
Muggles and their children were almost always Muggles too.
The few who became wizard-born were rare, a result of the sheer size of the Muggle population.
Not quite one in ten thousand, but close.
Choosing a random Muggle child and finding a wizard was about as likely as winning the lottery.
As they chatted idly, the room was soon restored to order.
"All right, child. I must prepare supper. Harry will be home from school soon."
Just as Mrs. Figg was about to close the door, Dudley pulled out a book bound in black.
"Mrs. Figg, may I read this one?"
The cover bore the words: Magical Drafts and Potions.
It was the standard Hogwarts Year One potions textbook.
Its author, Arsenius Jigger, was a wizard well-known for his skill in brewing.
Why would a Squib own such a book?
She could not learn from it, but she could still buy it to read.
What if her magic one day awakened?
There were no rules forbidding Squibs from buying magical books.
So it was reasonable.
As for the monster book—that had been an accident.
"Please."
"I truly want to study magic."
Before Mrs. Figg could refuse, Dudley spoke quickly.
These words came from the heart. He yearned for magic with all his being.
As one who lived between the magical and non-magical worlds, Mrs. Figg understood his feelings.
Perhaps it was his earnest eyes, or simply his desperate words—I really want to learn magic—that touched her.
She agreed to his request.
To deny a child and tell him he was destined never to be a wizard—that would be too cruel.
Mrs. Figg was a kind person, and kind people had soft hearts.
By the law of secrecy, Muggles were not permitted access to magic, not even knowledge of it.
But Dudley's case was unique. His cousin was the famous Harry Potter. His aunt was Lily Potter. He was destined to know of magic, destined to enter that world.
Whether he truly had magical talent hardly mattered. If he did, learning potions early was harmless. If not, he could not perform spells anyway. Many ingredients for potions could not be obtained in the Muggle world.
And Dudley had long set his sights on this book. While cleaning the room earlier, he had already noticed it.
Studying potions did not require one to use magic.
Just like Professor Snape, the potions master, had said in the very first lesson—"In my class, you will not need to foolishly wave your wands, nor will you need to chant spells."
In a sense, as long as the ingredients were available, even a Muggle could brew potions.
"By the way, Mrs. Figg, I gave it a beating, and it doesn't seem quite right now."
Dudley handed the limp monster book to Mrs. Figg, admitting honestly.
"Did I kill it?"
If so, he would pay.
Mrs. Figg waved dismissively. "Don't worry. The Monster Book of Monsters is far tougher than you imagine. A few punches are nothing. Even if an adult smashed it with a hammer, it would still be fine. Watch."
She pinched the spine and gave it a shake.
To Dudley's surprise, the book slowly opened its eyes.
"Dudley, dealing with this book is simple. Just stroke its spine like this—hmm?"
The expected violent reaction did not come. The monster book, once awake, did not struggle or bite. Its eyes were vacant, staring in different directions, and its tongue lolled out, drooling constantly.
It was finished. He had punched it silly. At the very least, it had a severe concussion.
Dudley felt embarrassed enough to cover his face.
Mrs. Figg fell silent for a moment before saying, "Even if it's damaged, it's fine. I never liked this book anyway."
'Besides, I was only holding it for someone else,' she thought privately.
From then on, apart from daily school and training, Dudley spent his time at Mrs. Figg's poring over Magical Drafts and Potions.
Mrs. Figg had expected his curiosity to fade quickly. After all, potions was one of the driest, dullest branches of magic—second only to the history of magic.
But Dudley devoured the book, utterly absorbed.
Harry was baffled. Though Dudley had always studied diligently, he had never gone this far. He read with such intensity that he even forgot to eat.
This was Dudley—the one who lived for food—forgetting meals.
Out of curiosity, Harry once tried to look at the book. But after seeing page upon page of dense text, he gave up at once.
Voluntary study was impossible for him. Keeping his grades average was good enough.
He never even read the content, unaware he might regret it in a few years.
Ironically, the page he glimpsed described the differences between monkshood and wolfsbane.
That would be on the exam.
Life at Mrs. Figg's was joyful for Dudley. There were cats, magical books, and the freedom to cook.
Life was full of happiness.
Swimming in a sea of knowledge was intoxicating.
After a month, Dudley finally finished the entire Magical Drafts and Potions.
Now only practice was lacking.
But Mrs. Figg would never allow a child—not even a wizard yet—to brew dangerous potions. She was a Squib, unable to stop anything if something went wrong.
Thus, Dudley's potion studies came to a halt.
He was already scheming to borrow another magical book when the long-silent system prompt sounded again.
"Task complete: finished first magical book."
"Reward: Activate Matou Shinji's magus gift."
That was the system's flaw—it always gave rewards after the fact.
It never issued tasks beforehand, only told him once he had already done them.
(End of this chapter)