The start date for Hogwarts was September 1st, which meant Harry still had nearly a full month of summer vacation ahead of him. For this final stretch of holiday, Vinson naturally arranged a set of study tasks for Harry—nothing overwhelming, but enough to keep him from idling away the days. Of course, Vinson had no intention of making Harry spend every minute buried in work. Children needed time to run around and play, after all.
The only pity, Vinson thought, was that Harry seemed to have no friends his age. At least, Vinson had never seen Harry interact with anyone besides himself and Hagrid. It made the boy's quiet eagerness to learn all the more striking.
On the first Sunday of August, Harry helped Vinson process the recently harvested Demiguise fur as usual. Together, they were preparing a fresh batch of Essence of Murtlap. Harry was now practiced enough that Vinson trusted him with the delicate portioning process. As the boy carefully poured the shimmering liquid into small stoppered bottles, he paused, glanced up with clear nervousness, and finally gathered enough courage to ask:
"Teacher… when can you start teaching me spells?"
Vinson, who had been inspecting the consistency of the potion, froze mid-movement. He looked up, startled by the question.
"I remember telling you," he began, "that only after your eleventh birthday you can—"
He stopped short. A realization dawned on him.
Harry had already turned eleven.
"Time really does fly," Vinson muttered, half to himself.
Harry stood stiffly, his fingers tightening anxiously around the glass bottle. He looked as though he expected to be scolded or refused.
"Of course," Vinson said at last, setting the potion bottle aside. "Since you're already eleven, you can formally begin learning magic. However, according to the rules, most students only start casting spells once they arrive at Hogwarts. And besides, it's only a few weeks away."
Hearing that Vinson didn't refuse, Harry's face lit up with unrestrained joy.
"I—I can't wait, Teacher!"
His excitement was so earnest that Vinson couldn't help but smile. No wonder he'd noticed Harry carrying his brand-new wand today—the boy had come with a purpose.
"Hagrid took you to Diagon Alley to buy your textbooks, didn't he?" Vinson asked.
Harry nodded vigorously.
"Then I assume you've already previewed your copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1?" Vinson continued, speaking as though it were obvious. "That should be the name… though I may be misremembering a detail or two."
Harry's enthusiasm faltered. "…No, Teacher."
The book, as a matter of fact, was currently stuffed under his bed. Ever since returning from Diagon Alley, he had spent most of his time swinging his wand around carelessly and teasing Hedwig. The idea of actually sitting down to read a textbook hadn't quite crossed his mind.
Vinson fell silent. He had assumed children these days were like himself at that age. He could still remember how, the summer he received his Hogwarts books, he practically wore the pages out reading and rereading them. Harry, it seemed, was not one of those naturally studious types.
"Should—should I go home and get the textbook?" Harry asked cautiously.
"No need," Vinson replied, waving his hand dismissively. He stood up and headed toward the warehouse. "I think my old school copies should still be somewhere in there."
The warehouse, magically expanded with an Undetectable Extension Charm, was far larger inside than it appeared from the outside. Unfortunately, its size only amplified the chaos caused by Vinson's poor organization skills. Finding anything inside was a challenge.
Still, after several minutes of rummaging, he finally emerged coated in a layer of dust, holding a slightly battered copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
Harry took it with both hands, only to immediately cough as a cloud of dust puffed up.
"Cough—thank you," he managed between wheezes.
He opened the book carefully. Its pages were yellowed with age but remained completely legible. What surprised Harry most, however, was how heavily annotated it was. Almost every page was filled with neat, compact handwriting—notes, clarifications, reminders, and even little sketches explaining spell motions. Whoever the previous owner had been, they had clearly taken their studies seriously.
When Harry flipped to the very first page, he noticed a short message written in a distinctly different handwriting:
Mum asked me to remind you—don't forget to eat lunch, brother.
—Cecilia
The ink was faded, as though written many years ago.
Cecilia?
Harry blinked. He had never heard Vinson mention anyone by that name. Could it be his sister? Vinson had never shared much about his family.
But the mystery lasted only a moment before Harry's excitement over learning magic pushed it aside. He closed the book gently and lifted his wand.
"Teacher, where do I start?" he asked eagerly.
Vinson chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm. He tapped the cover of the textbook lightly with one finger.
"The spells in this book were chosen specifically for new young wizards. Just browse through and pick one you'd like to try."
Harry flipped through the pages, eyes darting from spell to spell, but after several minutes he still hadn't made a decision.
"How about the Wand-Lighting Charm?" Vinson suggested with a raised eyebrow. "It's a very good first spell."
He demonstrated with a single fluid motion of his wand.
"Lumos."
A tiny orb of warm light blossomed at the wand's tip.
Harry stared, mesmerized.
"Now you try," Vinson said, dimming his wand with another casual flick. "Remember—concentrate. And look closely at the notes in the book; I wrote down every important precaution."
The Wand-Lighting Charm was simple, but it demanded focus. Lose concentration, and one might scorch the wand or, in the worst case, cause permanent damage. Miranda Goshawk, author of The Standard Book of Spells, had famously joked: If you doubt your ability to perform the charm safely, you might be better off buying a magical lantern.
For the next half hour, Vinson worked on brewing potions while guiding Harry's attempts.
"Harry, lift your arm a little higher."
"No—faster than that."
"The incantation! Don't forget the incantation."
"Yes, just like that… again."
At last, after countless attempts, a faint glow flickered at the tip of Harry's wand.
Then—
a small ball of light appeared.
It lasted only a second, but Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers. His expression was pure exhilaration.
"I did it!" he shouted, almost jumping with joy.
Vinson leaned back in his chair with a soft smile. He remembered his own first successful spell—his reaction had been almost identical.
"This is just the beginning," Vinson said, clapping lightly. "But yes, you did very well."
Still buzzing with excitement, Harry gripped his wand tightly.
"Teacher, what do we learn next?!"
Vinson's lips curled into a mysterious smile. Under Harry's bright, expectant gaze, he said two simple words:
"Potions class."
Harry's expression froze instantly.
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