Chương 7: Success?

The next couple of months that followed were both boring and interesting. Just like any other time in life. One thing he deliberately worked on during that time was his relationship with his parents. When he first arrived in this life, there had always been a degree of separation lingering in the back of his mind. He cared about Mike and Tessa, certainly. They were kind, patient, and far better than many parents he remembered from his previous life.

But like he had mentioned before, he did not see them as his real parents. That eventually changed. Little by little, Tyson stopped thinking of them as just good people he'd happened to end up with and started seeing them for what they truly were: his mother and father. The shift hadn't happened overnight, of course, nor had it been entirely one-sided. It was gradual and subtle. His parents became noticeably closer to him as the years passed.

Whether that was because of the emotional walls he'd finally begun dismantling or because he often offered to babysit Sofia in their stead, he didn't know. Most likely both. Though Tyson didn't mind, as he genuinely wished to spend more time bonding with his little sister. He would most likely leave for Hogwarts in a few years, and before that day arrived, he wanted to firmly imprint his image in Sofia's mind, or she might completely forget about him since he would only be able to return home once or twice a year.

During this time, he also gradually came out of his shell as a grumpy, introverted asshole. Well, he might still be an asshole as he was just getting back into his element. American element. As for magic? There was progress, just not in the direction Tyson had originally hoped. The levitation success that started his obsession—which couldn't exactly be called a success—turned out to be exactly what he feared. A fluke. For months, he tried to invoke the magic, trying to get into the same state.

He experimented constantly, attempting to recreate the conditions that had allowed it to happen. Nothing worked, and he failed again and again. Eventually, stubbornness collided with reality, and reality won. He gave up on the Levitation Charm. There was no helping it. But... not on wandless magic. Tyson spent an embarrassing amount of time analyzing his failures, and eventually, he arrived at a conclusion. Intent alone wasn't enough. At least not for him.

Maybe he simply lacked exceptional magical talent, or maybe consciously directing magic without a wand required years of development that a child couldn't realistically possess. Whatever the case, pure spellcasting through force of will was beyond his capacity for now. But there existed another form of wandless magic, and fortunately, every young wizard could do it. Accidental magic. Tyson was no exception.

He had invoked accidental magic multiple times after the Apparition incident, though it had been an unconscious application every time. One incident even involved Sofia. His little sister had been waddling across the driveway one afternoon with all the confidence and coordination typical of toddlers. Unsurprisingly, she tripped and almost slammed her face into the concrete. Tyson reacted instinctively. He reached out, and his magic answered.

Instead of smashing into the pavement, Sofia suddenly twisted through the air in a slow, graceful spin. The toddler completed a neat little turn and landed harmlessly on her backside. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. For a moment, Tyson simply stared while his little sister burst into laughter. The little princess scrambled back to her feet and continued running around as though being casually rescued by invisible forces was a perfectly normal occurrence.

His parents had a somewhat different reaction, though. Both had stood frozen, and the expressions on their faces suggested they'd just witnessed a miracle. Especially his father, who had witnessed him literally teleport before him previously. He gave him a look he couldn't quite put his fingers on. Another incident occurred while Tyson and Harry were sparring. The session had gotten competitive. Perhaps a little too competitive.

Tyson taught Harry everything he learned in the dojo, and over the years Harry had genuinely become a good fighter. During one exchange, he slipped through Tyson's guard, catching him by surprise, and landed a punch squarely around his eye. It was a good hit. A very good hit. By the end of training, Tyson was sporting a black eye impressive enough to earn professional approval. Harry immediately looked horrified. The younger boy apologized repeatedly, clearly convinced he'd done something terrible.

Tyson didn't particularly care about getting punched. That was part of training. What concerned him was explaining the bruise to his parents. They already tolerated his martial arts obsession with varying levels of enthusiasm. Discovering their son had come home looking like he'd lost a fight with a concrete wall might push them toward banning sparring entirely. That night, he went to bed expecting an unpleasant conversation the following morning. Morning came, but the conversation never did.

When Tyson looked into the mirror, there wasn't even a trace of the injury. The bruise had simply vanished as if it had never existed. That result left Tyson with a question. What exactly caused accidental magic to activate? He knew it was mainly emotions doing the heavy lifting. Strong emotions. But what kind of emotions? After considerable observation and experimentation, he identified a few recurring triggers. Fear, desperation, anger, and hatred. They all worked very well. Then Tyson got an idea.

If deliberate spellcasting through pure intent wasn't possible, perhaps he was approaching the problem incorrectly. Instead of fighting against the natural tendencies of accidental magic, maybe he should exploit them. More specifically, he should exploit his emotions and use them to make up for the lack of skill, just like accidental magic. Not by recreating the full chaos of accidental magic, of course. He wasn't about to throw himself in front of a moving truck just to test a theory.

But perhaps it didn't need to be that extreme. Instead of desperation and fear, what if he used a slightly smaller, narrower impulse? Need, for example. A genuine, immediate want for something just out of reach. That should do the trick, right? Conveniently enough, there was already a spell perfectly suited for testing that theory. Accio. The Summoning Charm.... The opportunity arrived during winter. Ten-year-old Tyson was comfortably buried beneath blankets, enjoying the warmth while working through some notes.

Everything was proceeding nicely until his pen ran out of ink. He looked up at the replacement that sat on his desk several meters away and fell into a conundrum. He had to retrieve it, but retrieving it required leaving the bed, and leaving the bed meant getting out of the warm blankets. This was undoubtedly a matter of life and death. Tyson stared at the spare pen, which remained stubbornly on the desk. He needed that pen, but he also wished to remain warm.

He was being lazy, but his desire and frustration was genuine. The need was genuine. Tyson focused on the pen and imagined it moving with all the intent and will he could muster. He pictured it lifting into the air, crossing the room, and settling neatly into his hand. Then he spoke the incantation.

"Accio." The pen twitched! Tyson froze. Under his stunned gaze, it slid slightly, lifted into the air, and flew right toward him! For a moment, Tyson had genuinely thought he had done it, his heart pounding excitedly in his chest, but halfway to the bed, the pen suddenly dropped to the floor. Silence followed. Then Tyson let out a sigh, though the slight curve of his lips showed he wasn't exactly disappointed. It wasn't completely a success.

Yes, the object hadn't reached him, but he'd still performed wandless magic. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it partial wandless magic. He had to remove the condition that required real need as a trigger to truly make it wandless magic. But regardless, his magic had responded, which meant his theory wasn't completely insane. For the first time in months, Tyson felt confident he was heading in the right direction. Perhaps, what little Voldy did was something similar as well.

A hybrid of wandless and accidental magic. He hoped it was. After that, he became completely obsessed with the Summoning Charm. Whenever he had privacy and need simultaneously, he practiced it. On pens, books, and even his toothbrush. Anything small enough to experiment with became a target. The results remained inconsistent. His effective range was embarrassingly short, only within a dozen meters, and many attempts ended with objects veering off course or simply falling short.

But he made progress every day, slowly increasing his range and accuracy. It was painfully slow, but progress nonetheless. Magic and his relationship with his parents weren't the only areas where he advanced, though. Years of continuous training had hardened his body. He grew stronger, faster, and more disciplined. He paid special attention to his reaction time and reflexes in particular, pushing them relentlessly and cycling through every drill and exercise he could find to sharpen them further.

Tyson had always been aware that this was one area where he possessed a natural edge. His reaction speed had always been sharper than most. It was talent, perhaps, but whatever it was, it was more than welcome, and he intended to fully exploit it. In a world where spells could be dodged, unlike bullets, quick reflexes could be a lifesaver in duels. Guns remained out of his reach, though. Being a child made obtaining one practically impossible.

The american in him remained unsatisfied, as if a important part of him was missing. His friendship with Harry also deepened, despite Dudley's constant attempts to get in the way. Whether it was out of jealousy, spite, or sheer pigheadedness, the whale boy never seemed willing to let it go. Fortunately for Tyson, and unfortunately for Dudley, none of it amounted to much. If anything, it only seemed to strengthen the bond between them.