Anduin nodded, then raised his wand and called, "Protego."
As Anduin spoke the incantation, magic surged within him. A shield-shaped barrier formed at the tip of his wand, but it looked flimsy and weak, and refused to take shape. After a few breaths, it dissipated like a bubble.
Lily was amazed that Anduin had actually managed to cast the Shield Charm, even if only barely. It seemed her young schoolmate had remarkably precise control over magic. When she had first started using the Shield Charm, she hadn't gotten any reaction at all when she said the incantation.
Next, Lily had Anduin try casting the Shield Charm several more times. He did as she asked, but each attempt either flickered a few times before vanishing or came out as feeble as his first.
Lily soon found the root of the problem. "I think I understand. There's nothing wrong with your incantation, and your control over magic is just right, but in your current condition, it's still very difficult for you to cast the spell successfully. That's actually normal."
Anduin tilted his head in confusion. The incantation was fine, yet he still couldn't cast the spell successfully—and that was normal? Was it because of his condition?
Lily didn't let him puzzle over it for long before explaining. "Let me give you an example, and you'll understand.
"You're Muggle-born, so you should know about pipes and valves. When we cast spells, saying the incantation is like opening a valve in our bodies. Our magic is like water, flowing out through an invisible pipe. That pipe isn't as hard as iron; it's more like a living, flexible hose.
"Our control over magic directs the hose to the right place, keeping the water from flowing astray. If our control is strong enough, we can even