Spellcasting Without a Staff

Usually, a person's focus lasts fifteen minutes at most before their mind starts to wander. If they push past two hours, frustration hits its peak, efficiency plummets faster than a waterfall, and by the end, everything looks like gibberish.

Aside from a half-hour break for dinner, Tom slogged through from three in the afternoon until ten at night. However, he only achieved real efficiency during those two hours before his meal; in the evening, he was merely flipping through his textbooks like bedtime reading, failing to enter a proper study state at all.

By the end of the day, he had only earned thirty study points, the exact same haul as his three hours in the Study Space the previous night.

Tom slumped in his chair, scratching his head in thought: I should put the transcendent state on hold for now and wait until I've saved up more credits. Every point must be spent sparingly; the Study Space has to be used where it counts most.

Having made up his mind, he collapsed into bed, even dreaming about practicing spells—a level of grinding that was truly absurd.

For the next month, Tom didn't set foot in Diagon Alley, holing up at home to drill magic. Every single day, without fail, he spent five hours in the Study Space learning from Andros, and the rest of the time practicing in reality. He lived a life more grueling than any Muggle examinee, and in the blink of an eye, it was the day before school started.

"Finally going to Hogwarts? I've been waiting like a madman!" These words didn't come from Tom, but from Andros, who was blustering inside his head with an excitement that eclipsed Tom's own.

Over the past month, Andros had crammed a significant amount of knowledge about the modern magical world, from its developmental trajectory to major historical events, finally becoming half a qualified modern wizard.

What moved him most were the four founders of Hogwarts. He would drone on in Tom's ear every day, lamenting that he hadn't been born in that era to cross wands with those four titans.

Andros couldn't say for sure what level the four founders were at, but he could swear that they were at least on his level—at the very least, the King Realm.

Tom had once asked Andros how he would evaluate his own talent when he was bored, only to receive an ambiguous answer.

Andros admitted that Tom's talent was indeed good, easily meeting the standard for a King Realm wizard, but the gap between a King Realm wizard and an Epoch wizard was not small by any means.

Based on the basic spells he was currently learning, he couldn't accurately determine what type of wizard Tom was.

Tom knew perfectly well that this was just a polite way of saying, "You're still missing that final spark." Yet, he wasn't discouraged in the slightest. His talent wasn't fixed anyway; he had already obtained Andros's magical talent, and there would be more and stronger ones in the future, so why rush?

He casually opened his system panel, the corners of his mouth curling upward. His affinity with Andros had reached 46, just a hair away from 50, at which point he could claim another reward.

However, what truly made Tom's jaw drop was Andros's other name—Heracles.

When he first learned of this, Tom thought he was hallucinating, and it wasn't until Andros thumped his chest to confirm it that he accepted this preposterous fact.

It turned out that in the eyes of the ignorant ancients, powerful wizards were no different from gods. As their deeds were passed down and embellished through artistic interpretation, they became myths.

However, after Andros read the later Greek myths, he jumped with rage, emphasizing repeatedly: "I do not have a father who loved turning into bulls and swans to mess around! My parents were ordinary wizards; I just happened to have a genetic mutation and became a super genius!"

Tom couldn't help but think to himself: So the Heracles of myth was actually a grinding machine of the wizarding world.

Andros patted Tom on the shoulder, his eyes gleaming: "Tom, you can try learning the Patronus Charm now!"

He had long been unable to hold back his desire to pass on his signature technique. The Patronus Charm was a genuine high-level spell; it required not only sufficient magic power but also a strong will and character.

Tom's character was far more mature than his peers, so he had already met that requirement. As for magic power, with the blessing of Andros's talent, he had nothing to worry about.

"I've been waiting for this too!" Tom's eyes shone. He was incredibly envious of Andros's giant-like Patronus.

"I'll demonstrate it for you first." Andros raised his wand high and shouted the incantation with full confidence: "Expecto Patronum!" Silvery-white mist threads surged from the tip of his wand, twisting and winding until they quickly coalesced into a massive figure.

Tom's eyes widened in shock: "This... this is a Patronus?!" The Patronus before him was over ten meters tall, taller than a two-story building. Most absurdly, Andros's Patronus was actually himself!

"Hahaha!" Andros laughed heartily, clearly satisfied with Tom's "country bumpkin" reaction. "Surprised? Usually, a person's Patronus is an animal, reflecting their personality and inner self."

"But I believe that the only things that can protect you are your own strength and conviction. That's likely why my Patronus takes this form."

He paused, looking confident: "I've even developed quite a few uses for it; it's incredibly effective at suppressing dark forces. Tom, practice according to the method I taught you, and you have a great chance of manifesting a self-Patronus. How about it, tempted?"

Tom nodded vigorously: "Tempted! Of course I'm tempted!" Otters, swans, stags—what animals could be cooler than one's own self? If he could train it to Andros's size, wouldn't that be like piloting a Gundam? Just thinking about it was exhilarating!

Tom's enthusiasm for learning was instantly ignited, and he dove headfirst into practicing the Patronus Charm, only exiting the Study Space when it was almost time to leave the next day.

He shoved two pieces of bread into his mouth to fill his stomach and grabbed his suitcase to head toward King's Cross Station.

The suitcase looked small, but Tom had cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. The spell was truly difficult; it took him two days of grinding to barely master it, expanding the interior of the box by three times—any larger and it would become unstable.

Moreover, the spell wasn't permanent; he would likely have to recast it every month, but it was enough for now.

As for the fact that using an Undetectable Extension Charm privately violated Ministry of Magic laws? Tom didn't care at all. He was just a fresh-faced newcomer; how would he know such a high-level spell? Even if he were caught, he could play the innocent victim: Someone must have framed me and cast the spell on my box on purpose!

At ten o'clock sharp, Tom arrived at King's Cross Station. As one of London's busiest transportation hubs, it was packed with people, and the noise was giving him a headache.

Tom mused to himself: This station is called King's Cross, and it's actually a memorial to that dim-witted George IV? I heard that guy was so incompetent that even his own attendants cursed him, saying no dog was more base or cowardly than him. There aren't many good monarchs in the world, but he was definitely the worst.

He really couldn't understand what there was to commemorate about such a monarch. Aside from this station, there were statues of him all over England; it was a total eyesore.

Tom squeezed through the crowd to the space between platforms nine and ten, took a deep breath, and, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary, slammed into the invisible partition—after all, the Hogwarts Express was hidden right there at Platform 9 3/4.