In the days that followed, Kael had a very fulfilling time, spending every day holed up in his room, trying out all kinds of charms.
Even though he came from a wizard family, before he started school, he hardly ever had the chance to cast magic—actually, the opportunities were almost non-existent.
First of all, whether it was Chris or Diana, their wands were extremely important to them—so important that you could even call it their second life—so, of course, they'd never just let Kael play with them at will.
Only at Christmas each year, or on Kael's birthday, would he be allowed to hold one and get a taste of magic.
Of course, Kael understood the rules, and would only cast Lighting Spells or Unlocking Charms—the kind of spells that wouldn't harm the wand even if he failed.
Another issue was wand compatibility.
Even though he was Chris and Diana's son, their wands gave Kael no leeway at all—the feeling of rejection was really strong.
Especially Diana's wand—in Kael's hand, it was no more than an ordinary stick; no matter how hard he tried to recite incantations, there was never the slightest response.
So Kael spent most of his earlier years dealing with Quidditch, herbs, or fantastic beasts, and rarely got to practice charms.
After waiting eleven years, now that he finally had his very own wand, he was bound to let loose for a bit.
Chris didn't object to this—in fact, he would sometimes enthusiastically give pointers and indulge his urge to play the teacher.
As a result, nearly every moment in Kael's room was filled with the flickering lights of different charms.
The first few days were fine; the spells Kael practiced were all basic and didn't affect anyone else.
But as time went on and Kael mastered more and more charms, problems began to arise.
...
At the dining table in the living room, Chris, who was sipping his tea, watched with wide eyes as the teacup opposite him lifted off the table and slowly floated upstairs.
However, Chris was clearly used to this by now; he calmly pressed the teacup back onto the table and tapped it lightly with his wand.
After doing all that, he finally looked up and called, "Kael, when you say the Summoning Charm, you have to make sure you know your target. And I suggest you start by summoning a quill, or some parchment—at least those won't break if you mess up."
"Okay, Dad."
Kael replied, but whether he actually listened or not, Chris didn't know—he figured probably not.
After all, this kind of thing had happened more than a few times already. Today alone, the number of times he cast the Repairing Charm was probably more than his total in the past ten years. Because of this, he'd had to place an Anti-Summoning Charm on every fragile item in the house.
"Whoosh…"
He was just thinking this when a piece of bread flew swiftly over his head and landed on the ceiling with a "splat."
"..."
He had to admit, just from results alone, Kael really had improved a lot; at least the speed of this Summoning Charm was way faster than last time.
"Sigh!"
Chris let out a sigh and, still calm, waved his wand, sending the piece of bread back to the kitchen, while also taking a moment to admire Diana's wisdom and foresight.
Thank goodness she confiscated Kael's cauldron on the very first day—otherwise, who knows what the house would look like by now.
Eleven-year-old wizards truly are famous for being both notorious and troublesome; the Weasleys next door are like that, and his own house was no exception.
Thank goodness these days were nearly over—Hogwarts started tomorrow.
Now that was truly good news!
Chris raised his tea cup and took a sip with a look of satisfaction.
...
Soon, evening came.
Diana was busy with work and hadn't come home.
Chris, who knew nothing about cooking, happily accepted Mrs. Weasley's warm invitation, and brought Kael and some prepared ingredients over to the nearby Shabby Residence to freeload a meal.
This move, unsurprisingly, aroused Mrs. Weasley's displeasure. She thought bringing ingredients as a guest was wrong and a sign of distrust in their friendship, and gave him a thorough scolding.
Chris didn't argue—he just tossed what he was holding into the kitchen and grinned while agreeing with everything she said.
As for Kael, he'd already naturally blended in with the Weasley kids.
This scene was nothing new to him.
They didn't have a little elf at home, so whenever Diana had work and couldn't come home, the father and son would head over to the Weasley family to scrounge a meal.
Scenes like this played out every time they visited; it was practically a set routine by now.
Not far away, on a patch of open ground, Kael was helping a few Weasleys get rid of gnomes.
Well, "get rid of," but really they were just playing.
One person would grab a gnome by the legs and throw it into the air, while another, wielding a wooden bat, would knock the gnome away like a bludger. The person who hit a gnome the farthest was crowned the winner and rewarded with a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean.
At first, Chris didn't support this game—he thought just tossing the gnomes out was enough, with no need for bats.
But the day he discovered that all his nearly mature Cloak Grass, painstakingly cultivated for a year, had been dug up by these gnomes, he never stopped Kael again.
In fact, that Christmas, he even gave Kael a finely crafted bat signed by a Wimbourne Wasps beater.
The bat was a joy to use, with a great swing, and so far it had helped Kael retain his championship for five straight times.
And today was no exception.
"This isn't fair."
Looking at Kael's signed bat, then down at the random stick in his own hand, Ron complained miserably, "The gear gap is way too big."
"Don't exaggerate, Ron. Gear doesn't matter that much; what counts is your own will to win. I win, not because my equipment's better, but simply because I want it more than you do."
Kael replied serenely, tossing a red bean over to him as he spoke. "Besides, Ron, before you complain about gear, maybe try beating Ginny for once—her bat is way smaller than yours."
There were five people in the game, with Ron coming in last—even Ginny's score was a few meters farther than his.
After Kael finished, Ron's face flushed bright red. Losing to his little sister in this was definitely not something to be proud of.
But his attention quickly shifted to the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean Kael had tossed over.
Bright red, looked really nice—and the taste… raspberry!
As expected, whenever Kael gave out Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean, they never tasted bad.
The sweet taste had Ron squinting in delight, and he couldn't help but feel a little envious—how did Kael always manage to pick out the best-tasting beans every time?
He certainly couldn't—every time it was either liver, or spinach, and once he even got dragon dung flavor.
That rancid, fermenting berry stench was downright unbeatable—whenever Ron remembered it, his stomach would churn.