Wandless Magic

Most people could focus for fifteen minutes at most. After that, their minds started to wander. Keep at it for more than two hours straight, and the frustration would hit its peak, while their efficiency plummeted faster than a waterfall. By the end, everything they looked at might as well have been written in an alien language.

Aside from the half-hour he spent eating, Tom had forced himself to study from three in the afternoon until ten at night. But only the first couple of hours before dinner had been productive. In the evening, he'd merely flipped through his textbooks like bedtime reading, never really getting into a studying mindset.

By the end of the day, he'd earned only thirty Study Points—the exact same amount he'd gotten from spending three hours in the Study Space the previous night.

Tom slumped in his chair, scratching his head as he thought it over. He'd put Transcendental State on hold until he'd saved up more credits. For now, every point had to be spent carefully, and he needed to get the most out of the Study Space.

Once he'd figured that out, he flopped into bed and fell asleep. Even his dreams were full of spell practice. He was taking overworking to a ridiculous level.

Over the next month, Tom didn't set foot in Diagon Alley again. He stayed home every day, hammering away at magic. He spent five hours without fail in the Study Space, learning from Andros, and practiced in the real world during the rest of the day. He worked harder than a Muggle student preparing for exams, and before he knew it, the day before school had arrived.

"Are we finally going to Hogwarts? I've been waiting forever!" It wasn't Tom who said this, but Andros, who was chattering excitedly in his mind. He was even more thrilled than Tom himself.

Over the past month, Andros had crammed in a great deal of knowledge about the modern Wizarding World, from its development to major historical events. He could finally count himself a reasonably competent modern wizard.

What moved him most was the Four Founders who had established Hogwarts. He talked about them in Tom's ear every day, lamenting that he hadn't been born in their era and had never gotten the chance to test himself against those great figures.

Andros couldn't say for certain exactly how powerful the Four Founders had been, but he was willing to swear they'd been at least on his level—at least King Realm wizards.

Tom had once asked Andros how he'd rate his talent, just to pass the time, and gotten a rather ambiguous answer.

Andros admitted that Tom had good talent—more than enough to meet the standards of a King Realm wizard. But the gap between King Realm and Epoch wizards was no small thing.

With only the basic spells Tom had learned so far, Andros couldn't accurately judge what type he was.

Tom knew exactly what that meant: "You're not quite there yet." But he wasn't discouraged in the slightest. His talent wasn't fixed, after all. He'd already gained Andros's magical talent, and there would be more and stronger talents to come. What was there to worry about?

He opened the system panel and couldn't help smiling. His approval rating with Andros had climbed to 46, just short of 50. Once it reached that point, he'd get another reward.

But what had really left Tom stunned was Andros's other name: Heracles.

When Tom first heard about it, he'd thought he'd misheard. It wasn't until Andros swore it was true that he accepted this ridiculous fact.

So, in the eyes of ignorant people in ancient times, powerful wizards were no different from gods. Their deeds were passed down through the generations, embellished along the way, and eventually became myths.

But after Andros read the Greek myths written in later eras, he'd been furious. He'd insisted over and over, "I did not have a father who loved turning into bulls and swans to sleep around! My parents were ordinary wizards. I was just a genetic mutation—a super-genius!"

Tom thought to himself, So the Heracles of myth was actually a workaholic from the wizarding world.

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

He'd been itching to pass on his signature magic. The Patronus Charm was a genuine advanced spell; it required not only enough magical power but also a strong will and a steady temperament.

Tom's temperament was far more mature than that of others his age. He'd already met that requirement. As for his magical power, with Andros's talent boosting it, there was nothing to worry about.

"I've been waiting for this, too!" Tom's eyes lit up. He'd been longing to see Andros's giant Patronus.

"First, I'll show you how it's done." Andros raised his wand high and called out with confidence, "Expecto Patronum!" Silver-white strands of mist poured from the tip of his wand, weaving together until they quickly formed a massive figure.

Tom's eyes went wide with shock. "Th-that's a Patronus?!" The Patronus before him stood more than ten meters tall, higher than a two-story building. And the most outrageous part was that Andros's Patronus was Andros himself!

"Hahaha!" Andros laughed heartily, delighted by Tom's astonishment. "Surprised? Most people's Patronuses are animals, reflecting their personalities and inner selves.

"But I think the only things that can protect you are your own strength and conviction. That's probably why my Patronus looks like this."

He paused, looking confident. "I've also developed quite a few uses for it. It's incredibly effective against dark forces. Tom, if you practice the way I taught you, there's a good chance you can produce a Patronus in your own form, too. How does that sound? Tempted?"

Tom nodded vigorously. "Absolutely! I'm definitely tempted!" What were animals like otters, swans, or stags compared to your own form? If he could make his Patronus as huge as Andros's, it'd be like piloting a giant robot. Just imagining it was awesome!

Tom's enthusiasm for learning blazed to life. He threw himself into practicing the Patronus Charm and didn't leave the Study Space until the next day, just before it was time to set off.

He grabbed a couple of pieces of bread to fill his stomach, picked up his suitcase, and headed for King's Cross Station.

The suitcase looked small, but Tom had cast the Undetectable Extension Charm on it. The spell was truly difficult. It had taken him two days of struggle just to get the hang of it, and he'd managed to triple the space inside the suitcase. Any larger, and it became unstable.

Besides, the spell wasn't permanent. He'd have to renew it about once a month, but for now, it was good enough.

As for whether using the Undetectable Extension Charm without permission violated Ministry of Magic law, Tom hadn't given it a second thought. He was a brand-new student. How could he possibly know such an advanced spell? Even if he got caught, he could play innocent: Someone must have framed me and cast the spell on my suitcase!

At ten o'clock sharp, Tom arrived at King's Cross Station. As London's busiest transport hub, it was packed with people and noisy enough to make his head ache.

Tom thought to himself, This station is called King's Cross, and it's named in honor of that tyrant George IV? I've heard he was so incompetent that even his own attendants insulted him, saying there wasn't a dog more vile and cowardly than he was. There haven't been many good kings in the world, but he was definitely the worst.

He couldn't understand what there was to commemorate about a king like that. Besides this station, Britain was full of his statues. They were an eyesore.

Tom squeezed through the crowd to the space between Platforms Nine and Ten. He took a deep breath, pretended to be nonchalant, and charged straight at the invisible barrier. After all, the Hogwarts Express was hidden behind Platform 9 3/4.