Chapter 369 — The Simple Charm
Chapter 369 — The Simple Charm
The charm Fawkes needed was just a simple little charm, like a smooth, glass-like droplet of mercury, which he could shape easily. He held a piece of parchment, dipped his wand tip lightly, and it instantly transformed into a flawless, shimmering silver charm, from its outer shape to its color, no detail out of place. The top surface was faintly glowing, like a ripple of silver light, and the charm’s surface looked as if it had been carved from moonlight.
A few basic charms—Binding Charm, Disarming Charm, Concealing Charm—were added to it, and it became nearly identical to the charm he had received from Hagrid earlier.
Merlin placed the charm on his lap, preparing to begin, but when he lifted his wand, he found the spell didn’t quite settle. It felt like a clumsy student, still fumbling after twenty years. His hand trembled slightly.
It was as if he were a student again, nervous and unsure, his wand trembling as he tried to conjure a simple spell. Everyone else seemed to manage it effortlessly—just a flick, a whisper, and the spell was complete. But for him, even the simplest charm required absolute focus.
—It’s not impossible to cast, but I can do better.
Merlin exhaled deeply, then lifted his wand from his lap, holding it steady. He stared at the parchment with sharp, unwavering eyes.
A small, round, perfect orb—its surface smooth and radiant, the middle faintly glowing with a soft silver light, a single sharp edge catching the light like a blade.
This was the form he wanted.
Merlin raised his wand, focusing on the charm. The parchment shimmered, the silver light within it flared, and the charm slowly took shape—no longer a flat piece, but a three-dimensional sphere, its surface smooth and flawless.
A sudden rush of energy surged through the room. The silver light flared, and a ripple of light shot through the air. The charm floated in midair, its surface now reflecting every light in the room like a mirror.
The moment the charm formed, Merlin felt a jolt—something was wrong. He stared at it.
It wasn’t just the charm. Something in the air felt off.
Merlin looked up. The charm in his hand glowed, but the air around it shimmered with faint, unseen patterns. A thousand invisible runes and incantations flared in his mind’s eye, layered one upon another, each more complex than the last.
A single spell could only carry a limited amount of power, but the charm itself was different.
Since this morning, the charm had been growing stronger—Fawkes had noticed it too. The moment Merlin began shaping it, the charm seemed to react, responding to his magic like a living thing.
The charm wasn’t just a tool. It was alive.
Merlin held it tightly, his breath slowing.
He didn’t know it yet, but at this moment, he was standing in the center of a silent storm. The charm in his hand wasn’t just responding to his magic—it was guiding it.
The runes in the air pulsed, forming intricate patterns, like a map of the universe.
One rune, two runes, three runes—each one glowing with a different color, each one a key to a deeper layer of magic.
The silver light danced across the walls, forming shapes—circles, spirals, patterns that looked like ancient runes.
The charm in his hand pulsed in rhythm with the light.
Merlin stared, transfixed.
The runes in the air flared again, and the charm in his hand shimmered. The light flowed through it, and for a moment, the room seemed to breathe.
Time slowed.
The direction of the light, the shape of the runes—it all pointed to one place, one person.
Merlin blinked.
He looked down at the charm.
It wasn’t just a charm anymore. It was a key.
He didn’t understand it yet, but deep down, he knew—this charm wasn’t meant to be used. It was meant to be found.
The charm glowed softly in his hand.
Merlin took a deep breath.
He wasn’t just shaping a charm.
He was shaping a message.
He carefully placed the charm into his pocket, then stood up.
He turned to look at the others.
“…Can you believe this little charm can do all this?”
He said.
—
“Binding Charm, Disarming Charm, Clearing Charm—these are all equivalent to the simple symbols you’d see on a magic scroll, like the dots and lines that represent power and intent. Fundamentally, they serve the same purpose.”
In the quiet room of the ancient magical academy, the spell resonated with a soft, echoing chime.
Merlin sat still, his wand resting in his lap. He stared at the charm, his eyes distant.
“…The most powerful charm is the Binding Charm,” he murmured.
“Not just because it’s strong—but because it’s aware. It doesn’t just bind. It sees. It knows what it’s binding.”
He paused.
“With this charm, I’ve taught it to detect the hidden threads of magic—those invisible lines that connect people, objects, places. I’ve given it the ability to pull at those threads, to feel them.”
He looked up.
“Even now, it’s reacting. It’s like it’s listening.”
He took a breath.
“…I’ve tested it with a few different forms—four, five times. So far, it’s worked perfectly. The tone is clear, the resonance pure. But there’s still a small flaw—something subtle. A distortion in the frequency. It’s not dangerous, just… off.”
He sighed.
“…The problem isn’t the charm itself. It’s the source. In England, it worked fine. But in France, the signal… it changed. It became weaker. By the time we reached Italy, it was almost gone. I don’t understand it. Same charm, same magic—but the difference is huge.”
Merlin paused.
“…It’s like the world itself resists it.”
He looked down at the charm.
“…It’s not just about the spell. It’s about who casts it. Who wants it.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the charm.
It glowed faintly in his palm.
He held it up.
“…It’s not just a tool. It’s a test. A trial.”
He looked at the others.
“…And I think I know who the trial is for.”
He closed his hand around the charm.
The light faded.
Silence returned.
Merlin stood.
The charm was complete.
Now, all that remained was to send it.
(End of Chapter)
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