Chapter Nine – Sparks and Secrets

The afternoon sky was heavy with clouds, a flat grey dome above the schoolyard as children scattered home in cheerful groups. The last bell had rung, but Jonathan and Harry had slipped away from the crowd, wandering toward a quiet corner of the school's rear field. It was lined with bushes and a half-broken fence, offering just enough seclusion for the secret they were about to test.

Harry turned to him, eyes bright with anticipation. "Alright. Let's try it. That teleport thing I did… maybe I can do it again!"

Jonathan tilted his head. "You sure that's the best idea to start with? Seems like skipping a few levels."

"I have to try," Harry said quickly. "It just… happened last time. Maybe I can make it happen again."

Without waiting, Harry clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders tensing. He looked like he was trying to lift a car with his mind—or maybe pass a particularly stubborn bowel movement.

Jonathan bit his lip to keep from laughing.

One minute passed.

Then two.

By the fifth minute, Harry had started breathing hard, face red and expression strained. Still nothing.

Jonathan raised a hand. "Okay, okay. Maybe don't give yourself a nosebleed. Let's try something simpler."

Harry cracked one eye open, frustrated. "Like what?"

Jonathan held up his hand. "Remember what I said last week? About the light? When I was in the attic, frustrated and fumbling for the old TV, and suddenly… light. In my hand."

Harry frowned, watching him carefully.

"I think that's a better place to start," Jonathan went on. "You're not throwing yourself across space, just channeling a bit of energy. Safer, too."

Harry hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Alright. So… light in the palm?"

"Exactly." Jonathan held out his own hand. He focused—not with full intent, but enough to let the magic stir beneath his skin. A soft spark glimmered to life in his palm, a faint glow like firelight trapped under glass.

He quickly closed his fist and made a face. "Huh. Must've been a fluke."

But Harry had seen it.

"Wait! That was light!" he shouted, eyes wide. "That wasn't a fluke! That was real!"

Jonathan shrugged with mock confusion. "Was it? Maybe static or something."

"Don't play dumb," Harry grinned. "You did it!"

The excitement on his face was almost enough to break Jonathan's act. 'He needs this,' Jonathan thought. 'The wonder. The discovery. Let him have it.'

Harry thrust out his hand, frowning in focus. For a moment, nothing happened. His brow furrowed deeper.

Then—there it was.

A flicker. A soft, white spark that hovered just above the center of his palm before vanishing.

"I did it!" he gasped, looking from his hand to Jonathan. "Jonathan—I actually did it!"

Jonathan grinned. "Told you. Possible."

They plopped onto the grass, cross-legged and grinning like lunatics. Harry kept staring at his palm as if it had transformed into something magical—and maybe, in a way, it had.

"How did you feel when you did it?" Harry asked. "I mean… what did it feel like inside?"

Jonathan thought for a moment, still pretending he wasn't a master of the trick. "Pressure," he said. "Like something building up inside, right beneath the skin. And it only works when I'm feeling something… intense. Like frustration, or worry."

Harry nodded slowly. "I was scared when I landed on the roof," he murmured. "That's when it happened. So… it's emotion, then?"

"Seems like it. Magic responds to emotion. That would explain the whole 'accidental magic' thing."

They looked at each other, minds spinning with possibilities.

Harry raised his hand again. "Okay… scared, scared…" He frowned, clearly trying to summon that emotion.

Jonathan chuckled. "Might help to remember the actual moment. Picture Dudley's face when he cornered you. That snarling pig snout, the look he gives right before he swings."

Harry winced. "That's a terrifying image."

He took a breath, eyes closing. A moment later, his hand lit up again, brighter this time, steady for nearly two seconds.

Jonathan nodded with approval. "You're getting better already."

"It's amazing," Harry whispered, grinning. "I didn't think it was real. I mean, it felt like a dream, but… this is real."

They spent the next twenty minutes practicing. Sometimes their palms sparked. Sometimes they fizzled. Jonathan let his own spells flicker out, feigning effort while observing Harry's progress.

They began describing how it felt, theorizing together.

Harry compared the sensation to holding a warm balloon.

Jonathan said it was more like water trying to burst through a tiny hole. "It's all pressure and control. Let it out too fast, and it dies. Hold it too long, and it hurts."

"So control and emotion," Harry muttered, "like balancing fire on a stick."

"Exactly."

As the sun dipped lower behind the school building, casting long shadows across the grass, Harry tried one last time. He closed his eyes, imagined the fear, the frustration, and—finally—let the warmth surge forward.

His hand glowed for a full four seconds.

When the light faded, he looked stunned, as though he couldn't quite believe his own success.

Jonathan's mother called from the gate, waving a hand.

"Time to go," Jonathan said, standing up.

Harry followed, still staring at his hands.

"This is just the beginning," Jonathan added as they walked. "We'll get stronger. We'll figure it all out."

Harry nodded, eyes still bright with wonder. "Thanks, John. For… everything."

Jonathan smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You're welcome. Now let's see what else we can break the laws of nature with."