8 Death and Domain - Chapter 8

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It was after the seventh time that I called it quits. The same spell hit me square in the chest with all the strength and feeling of a gut punch again, and my wand flew away from my hand despite my clutching fingers desperately trying to hold on to the piece of wood.

After being tossed around nonstop, I'd taken the opportunity to use this as an experiment of sorts, and turned out there was some actual magic in the way the Disarming Charm worked. It was obvious, of course, but perhaps if I understood the magic better, I would actually be able to fucking use it now and then.

I figured the thing that made me physically unable to hold on to my wand was the intent you put on the spell, and the magical force acted to legitimately wrench whatever sort of weapon or wand you have in your hand. But could I turn it into a battle of wills? The intent of the magic against my own intent?

If that's how it worked, then I had lost. Snape knew well how to put a strong intention behind his spells, that was obvious.

Then again, should I even bother trying to figure magic out? Reality had hit me worse than any of Snape's spells. We didn't need to come to the dueling strip. This could have been done in his classroom easily enough. Snape had overestimated my skills, if anything.

I had to come to terms that there was something in Octavius—or in myself—that was broken. Maybe broken beyond fixing.

I thought about that as I lay panting there on the ground. Grunting, I wiped sweat off my brown and spat on the floor. "I told you," I said in between heaving breaths. "I told you it just doesn't work. And yes, I had the goddamn intent of ripping your whole hand off if you must know."

Snape crossed the platform in a swish of black. "Stand up." His voice held a healthy mixture of anger and derision. Lovely. "I've never seen a more pathetic display, and Neville Longbottom has been in this school for three years. Now stand up." Tossing me my wand, he sneered down at me. "The Disarming Charm, again. If only for a case study of the worst students that have ever passed through this school, I want to see how you manage to fail so spectacularly with such an elementary spell."

I could only grit my teeth. At this point, I had to take it. My leverage had vanished like sand in the wind. When the student who slapped you and promised you to undo Voldemort's handiwork couldn't even cast a household charm, you had a reason to get a little pissy.

Rising to my feet, I took a deep breath before exhaling. I knew how much confidence and intent mattered to spell casting, so I shoved all thoughts of failure to the back of my mind. All my doubts and fears. Until only purpose remained.

Calm spread through me, and I raised my wand.

"Expelliarmus!" My voice came sure and crisp, my movement perfect, but the spell wheezed out of my wand like a wet fart. It flew in the air for a few seconds before splashing harmlessly on the platform. I reigned in the bubbling frustration with an iron fist.

"Again!"

"Expelliarmus!" I tried to focus on the magic inside me, to follow that feeling of power that flowed into my veins whenever I cast a spell. My wand twisted in the air. "Bombarda!" A flash of white. "Stupefy!" Another of red.

It almost looked like it worked, but I could tell otherwise. The spells were dull and pale, and they bled color and power as they shot through the air like a leaking balloon. Snape barely glanced at them. He circled me with the eyes of a hawk, trying to find fault in my casting, my posture, my words.

"Incarcerous!" My vision narrowed. My breathing settled into a calm rhythm. "Depulso!" It was there, I could feel. It tugged at my chest, pulsing with warmth whenever I willed a spell into being. "Bombarda!"

They all failed, wheezing out the tip of my wand and breaking apart on the floor.

I sank deeper into casting. Spells Octavius had read in books or seen in class flowed through me one after the other. I tried to feel for that connection, to follow the warmth back to where it came from and see where in the process of conjuring up a spell was I failing. But it was like grasping at the wind. There was never enough of it to hold on to. Or maybe it was lacking a solidness that would allow me to mold it properly.

"Enough!"

My focus broke like shattering glass. My eyes snapped open to see Snape staring at me. I didn't remember closing them.

He stood a few feet away, his mouth set into a thin line.

"I've seen more than enough," he said. There was more frustration than anger in his voice. "I cannot account for your intent, but your casting is… adequate. Both the pronunciation and the wand movement." Then he sneered. "Which only means whatever this is, it's natural to you. Inherited, like a disease."

I glared at him. My mouth opened for a retort, but I swallowed it down like bitter medicine. What could I say? Snape wasn't wrong. I felt it too. Or rather, I could feel its absence. Some important part of me that I could only just brush my fingers again no matter how hard I reached for it with both hands.

"The deal stands," I said through gritted teeth. I wouldn't let Snape slip away, no matter what he thought of me. "But we'll postpone any attempt at teaching me until I sort out what's happening. Perhaps I will need another wand."

Snape scoffed. I didn't blame him. It sounded weak even to my ears. If he wasn't so desperate for any sort of hope, I imagine he'd start doing good on his threats to make my life living hell in this castle at that very moment.

We left the dueling strip without speaking another word.

I swung by my room and grabbed my things. I didn't want to have to come back the next day and face the odds of running into Cassius and Justin. Despite the prank and all my other thoughts of revenge earlier today, I could still do nothing against them in a real fight.

Instead, I headed to the Room of Requirement. I needed to think. Or rather, rethink everything. The situation was worse than I thought. I had built up my plans with Snape thinking he would easily point out whatever I was doing wrong and I'd be done with being a weakling after a few months of practice. The bonus powers of the Domain System would just serve to elevate me a step above everyone else.

After tonight, I would have to revisit those ideas.

xxxx

The sun glared down at me bright and hot as if to mock my lack of sleep. Dark bags hung under my eyes, and I could feel a headache begin to throb its way to the forefront of my mind. It's hard to relax after coming to terms with your own uselessness.

I shuffled forward against the press of bodies in line for the Hogwarts Express. The din of voices was deafening. Laughter rang all around, but the cheer that seemed to suffuse all the students that only thought of the three months' vacation ahead washed over me and died a quick death after peeking into my head.

And how could it be any different? It didn't make sense. Why put me in this body—in this world—if I couldn't amount to anything as a wizard? Why tie my hands behind my back like this?

I'd grown tired of waiting for some form of answer from the Domain System last night. Had Octavius not been useless before I arrived, I'd think it was some form of drawback the system gave me so I didn't become too big too quick.

The line came up to the stairs that led up to the platform itself, and I just barely brushed up against the older girl in front of me when she came to a stop. I was almost a foot taller than her, and she looked back interestedly for a moment before her expression settled into a grimace when she noticed who I was. Great.

If I hadn't spent half my childhood feeling sorry for myself, I might've just had a go at it after yesterday. But you learn that feeling sorry for yourself won't make the world suddenly bend around your emotions and accommodate your wishes. In the path my past life had taken, either I learned, or I died. I chose the former. Sure, I'd been dealt a shit hand here, but I'd turned that to my advantage once before. This life would be no different.

Ignoring the comments from the girl and her friends, I slowly shouldered my way up the stairs. Maybe it's because of my lack of sleep, but the blatant disrespect was starting to grate at me. It was better to leave it alone before I did something stupid. Then I snorted to myself. Do what? That—whoever she was, could have me twisted like a pretzel whenever she wanted.

When I took the last step onto the landing, a shout at the back of the line drew my attention. The stairs were working like a funnel, so there was a bit more room to work with here. I turned, and from my vantage point, I could see some type of commotion going on some twenty yards back.

I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the sun, and that's when they spotted me. Justin pointed first, and then Cassius turned in my direction. He had his wand whiteknuckled in his hand. When he followed Justin's finger and finally saw me, a sick smile spread across his face.