Chapter14 Gearing up for the Magic Practice Trial
The lingering warmth of Isabella's prayer and John Smith's inexplicable pride seemed to infuse Jack with a nervous energy.
The Magic Practice Assessment loomed, a monstrous, fire-breathing dragon in his mind, far more terrifying than any teapot he'd accidentally transmogrified.
He knew he needed to prepare, to delve into the dusty depths of the Academy library and arm himself with knowledge.
He needed every advantage he could get.
He was, after all, still essentially a dude with a Wi-Fi router for a brain navigating a world of wands and wizards.
The library was a cathedral of hushed whispers and the scent of aging parchment.
Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, illuminating swirling dust motes like miniature galaxies.
Jack, armed with a list of recommended readings longer than a CVS receipt, began his search for information on illusionary realms and the magical beasties that inhabited them.
He finally located a weighty tome, thick as a dictionary, detailing the habits of Grindylows, a particularly nasty breed of water demon with a penchant for ankle biting.
Just as he began to decipher the archaic script, a shadow fell across the page.
It was Henry, his smug face illuminated by the ethereal glow of the stained glass, looking like a particularly punchable cherub.
With a swift yank, Henry snatched the book from Jack's grasp.
"Still trying to cram, Smith?" he sneered, flipping through the pages with exaggerated nonchalance.
"I doubt even this can save you. Some people just aren't cut out for magic, you know?"
Jack's internal Wi-Fi router sputtered with indignation.
This wasn't just about the assessment anymore.
This was personal.
"I'll have you know," he retorted, channeling his inner keyboard warrior, "I've faced tougher challenges than a grumpy merman with a dental fixation."
"Oh really?" Henry raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"Like what? Successfully microwaving popcorn without setting off the smoke alarm?"
Before Jack could unleash the full force of his millennial wit, a voice, sharp as a splintered wand, cut through the air.
"Leave him alone, Henry.
"
Sophia stood there, radiating an aura of protective energy, like a magical mama bear.
She placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, a gesture that sent a jolt of warmth through him, momentarily overriding his simmering rage.
Her gaze locked onto Henry, her eyes flashing like twin sapphires.
"And what are *you* going to do about it, Sophia?" Henry blustered, his bravado faltering under her intense stare.
"What I *should* do," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "is turn you into a potted fern. But I have a feeling that even the dirt would reject you."
Henry, speechless for once, flushed crimson.
He tossed the book back at Jack, muttering something about "needing fresh air," and retreated with a hasty stride.
Sophia turned to Jack, her fierce expression melting into a warm smile.
"Don't let him get to you," she said softly, her hand still resting gently on his shoulder.
"You've got this."
Her words, and the comforting weight of her touch, soothed his frayed nerves.
He had Sophia in his corner, and suddenly, the looming assessment didn't seem quite so daunting.
With renewed determination, Jack sought out Elara Moonshade.
The enigmatic guide welcomed him with a knowing smile.
They delved into advanced defensive spells and counter-curses, techniques designed to neutralize the magical threats lurking within the illusionary realm.
As they practiced, Jack found himself applying his modern, out-of-the-box thinking to the ancient magical practices.
"What if," he suggested, as they were discussing a particularly tricky spell to ward off Grindylows, "instead of just trying to repel them, we confuse them?
Like, create an illusion of a giant, sparkly, underwater disco ball?
They'd be too mesmerized to bite.
"
Elara stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"Jack," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "you truly have a unique perspective. I've never encountered anyone who could combine ancient magic with…disco balls." She paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.
"But you know what? It might just work."
Despite the boost in confidence, the pressure of the upcoming assessment continued to mount.
Sleep became a battlefield where he wrestled with monstrous figments of his imagination.
He'd wake in a cold sweat, the echoes of phantom roars and the chilling grip of spectral claws clinging to him.
He started to doubt himself, to wonder if he was truly capable of mastering the magic needed to survive the trial.
One particularly restless night, Sophia found him pacing the moonlit gardens of the Academy, his face etched with worry.
She sat beside him on a stone bench, the scent of night-blooming jasmine heavy in the air.
Wordlessly, she leaned her head against his shoulder, her presence a silent reassurance.
"What if I fail?
" he whispered, the words barely audible above the chirping of crickets.
She took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his.
"You won't," she said firmly.
"You're stronger than you think.
"
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the gentle rhythm of her breathing calming his racing thoughts.
The moon cast long shadows, blurring the lines between reality and the fantastical world that awaited him.
He knew he couldn't face the upcoming challenge alone.
"I..." Jack began, then hesitated, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation.
"I think I need some extra help."
Sophia squeezed his hand tighter.
"I know just the people…" she started, a mysterious glint in her eye…
Jack stared at the bubbling concoction in his cauldron, a noxious green fume swirling around it.
It was supposed to be a simple levitation potion, but so far, the only thing levitating was the hair on the back of his neck.
He wrinkled his nose.
It smelled faintly of burnt cabbage and old socks.
"This," he muttered, "is not how it's supposed to go.
" He'd watched Professor Magnus brew this same potion dozens of times.
The old wizard made it look effortless, a flick of the wrist here, a pinch of mandrake root there, and *poof* - featherlight levitation.
Jack, on the other hand, felt like he was wrestling a particularly stubborn badger.
Sophia, perched on a nearby stool, stifled a giggle.
"Perhaps a bit less bat guano, Jack?
" she suggested, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"But the book said…" Jack began, flipping through the dog-eared pages of *Magnus's Magical Miscellany*.
"Books can be misleading," Sophia interrupted, hopping off the stool and peering into the cauldron.
"Especially when interpreted by someone who thinks eye of newt is an ingredient you find at the butcher's.
"
Jack scowled.
He knew Sophia was teasing him, but the pressure of the upcoming Magic Practice Trial was getting to him.
Professor Magnus had made it clear that failure was not an option, and Jack, despite his accidental forays into magical success, was still far from confident.
A gentle tap on his shoulder startled him.
Elara Moonshade, the enigmatic guide who had appeared at crucial moments in his journey, stood beside him.
"The balance, young Jack," she said, her voice soft as the rustle of leaves.
"It is not just in the ingredients, but in the intention.
"
Jack frowned, trying to decipher her cryptic advice.
"Intention?
"
Elara smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes.
"Magic is not just about following a recipe.
It's about channeling your will, your desire.
What do you *want* this potion to do?
"
Jack closed his eyes, picturing the featherlight levitation he'd seen Professor Magnus achieve.
He imagined the potion bubbling with power, not noxious fumes.
He focused on the feeling of weightlessness, of freedom.
When he opened his eyes, the green fumes had dissipated, replaced by a soft, silvery glow.
The potion now smelled of fresh lavender and pine.
He dipped a finger in and cautiously tasted it.
Sweet, with a hint of mint.
"Well, I'll be…" Sophia breathed, her eyes wide.
Just then, Lady Eleanor bustled into the room.
"Professor Magnus requests your presence, Master Jack," she announced, a slight frown creasing her brow.
"He seems... agitated."
Jack sighed.
He had a feeling this was just the beginning.
He grabbed his wand, the smooth wood comforting in his hand.
He might not be a natural magician, but he was determined to succeed.
For himself, for Isabella, and for the adventure that lay ahead.