Chương 15: Chapter 16 : Magical Theory I

Waffling proposed that magic was a form of power innate and unique to wizardkind, something woven into their very being from birth. His central theory was that it originated from the soul itself, a natural extension of their will that could reach outward and influence the world. In other words, he believed wizards were "Them". Tyson found that interesting, to say the least. His writing style too.

Unlike Miranda Goshawk, who wrote like a teacher explaining practical lessons to children, Waffling wrote like a man trying to explain the universe over a bottle of whisky. His words were heavier, more philosophical, filled with analogies and distinctions that sounded intelligent but lacked anything concrete behind them. In other words, the man wasn't presenting facts so much as educated guesses. Interesting guesses, but guesses nonetheless. Still, Tyson kept reading.

If the book had been in the curriculum of one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world for so long without being replaced, there had to be some truth to it. The next chapter moved on to something he had already seen in The Standard Book of Spells. The fundamental components of spellcasting. It covered the same three old components, but where Miranda's explanation had been simple and practical, Waffling went deeper. While Miranda favoured belief, Waffling wanted to have a passionate night with intent.

And desperately so. It was, according to him, the heart of magic. It was what gave magic purpose and shaped the final outcome of a spell. Without it, magical power would be directionless, no matter how perfect the wand movement or incantation might be. The incantation itself, Waffling argued, was merely a verbal guide. It was a set of refined "words of arcana" discovered over generations because they resonated naturally with magical power and assisted a wizard in shaping their intent into what the spell required.

A bit like training wheels on a bicycle. Useful for beginners while learning, but unnecessary once you understood how to balance on your own. It was the same with magic. As a wizard became more skilled, their intent grew sharper and clearer. Eventually, they no longer needed to say the words out loud because the intent alone carried enough clarity to cast the spell. Of course, one's mastery over the spell also mattered. That was apparently the basis of non-verbal or silent casting.

The wand, however, served a different role entirely. Waffling described magical power as wild, raw, and formless by nature. It existed, but without shape or discipline. Most witches and wizards lacked the sheer concentration and will required to channel and direct it without a tool. [A/N: Will - Mental strength/resilience] If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. A wand was exactly that.

It acted as both a conduit and regulator, something that channelled, focused, and stabilized magic into a usable form. The wand movement was a method of invoking that control. And, just like incantations, wand movements could also eventually be omitted. With enough familiarity, a wizard could reach the point where their wand itself responded to their will and intent alone, without elaborate gestures. Tyson found himself nodding along. It explained why powerful wizards could cast with just a wave of their wands.

He continued reading. It was also possible to use magic without a wand, of course; that was through pure intent and will, but the book made it clear why almost nobody bothered. For starters, it was absurdly difficult. Without a wand acting as a conduit, every spell demanded not only far greater intent, but concentration and will as well. The latter especially, since channelling and directing magical power relied heavily on one's mental strength.

And that was not taking into account how skilled one had to be with the spell itself. Then came the worst part. Wandless magic was horribly inefficient! Waffling explained with a simple example. A basic levitation charm performed wandlessly could drain as much as five times the magic of the same spell cast with a wand, and that's not even accounting for the mental strain on the caster.

'Fuck.' The difference completely blew Tyson's mind. Now he realised why he always felt so tired after his Accio training sessions, both mentally and physically. The damn charm was squeezing out all his juice! And no wonder even powerful wizards like Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort still relied on wands. There was no doubt both of them had a wide repository of wandless spells, but the cost-to-benefit ratio was simply terrible. It wasn't about capability so much as efficiency.

Seen this way, wands were truly an ingenious invention, and a necessary one too. From what Waffling implied, they were practically mandatory for most young wizards, as eleven-year-olds simply lacked the will required to cast a spell without one. Intent could be assisted with incantations, but will could only grow with experience and age. Without a wand, they wouldn't be able to do any magic. At least consciously. And that moved the topic to accidental magic. Waffling didn't spend much time on it.

He described it only as a byproduct of intense emotional outbursts in young witches and wizards, where raw magic reacted instinctively to overwhelming feelings. Waffling described it as a natural reaction to intense emotion—raw magic responding instinctively to fear, anger, desperation, or need. Though as children grew older, their mental resilience strengthened, and instances of accidental magic gradually faded until they completely disappeared once wizards reached adulthood.

Tyson couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. The last part irked him a bit. Did he mean that all adult wizards were emotionally stunted? He found the answer on the next page. For witches and wizards, emotions were not merely feelings; they were currents that stirred the very core of their magic. Joy could make spells brighter, anger could sharpen them into something fierce, and fear could twist magic into unpredictable shapes. But no matter the emotion used, it always made spells all the more potent.

'Now what does that mean? Some sort of external amplifier, or does it just increase the output of magical power?' Tyson wondered as he read on. Magic, at its heart, was deeply tied to the soul, and emotions were the language of that soul: raw, instinctive, and impossible to fake. A calm mind could guide magic with precision, but it was emotion that gave it force and life.

"Oh, what a contradictory dickhead." Just a few pages before, the guy was dick-riding intent, and now he was all over emotions. Waffling was an unfaithful prick.