cundiff11
12-14-2008, 02:37 PM
Here is how the rules of magic work: Wizards and witches can perform magic without wands. Simple magic, at first, but whatever magic they have previously used with a wand, they can reproduce without. Usually, they direct the magic through their hands if they are without a wand, but with practice, it is possible to do so without.
Now, it is not necessary to have spells for all magic. What you are thinking in your head will happen. Spells are used for magic that is too complex to think about. For instance: you cannot summon something if you have no particular thing in mind, if you even know if it exists, without a wand or a spell. If you are on a couch, and you summon a cup that you know is in the pantry, it will come. But to summon a cup without knowing what it looks like or where it is, you will need a wand.
Now, for the wizarding and muggle (I am not going to keep using the word ‘muggle’ I just cannot think of anything right now) worlds. There are two different worlds, both replicas of the other, and both connected to each other through magic. You can teleport between the worlds if using a wand. Other than teleporting, wands do not work in the muggle world. You must produce the magic yourself.
Dylan is a ten year old boy, and he just started to learn magic last year. Already he is stronger than his parents. He is a mischievous boy, and he and his parents both know that he is more powerful than them. And he does sometimes, too, when he loses his temper. For example, last week.
“I’m going to Jordan’s.” Dylan told his Father, Michael. “No, you need to stay home until you finish your homework.” said Michael, attempting authority. “I’m going to Jordans.” Dylan repeated, in the same tone, no indication what so ever that he had heard what his father just said. He walked to the door, reached out to turn the handle, and screamed. “OW!” It was burning hot. Rounding on his father, he screamed, “You did that!” “You’re going to finish your homework, and then you may go to Jordan’s.”
It happened fast. He jabbed his finger at his father, who was standing 20 feet away, and two rings of fire shot toward him and wrapped themselves around his hands, and snapped his arms behind his back. Another jab, and was thrown against the wall. Unable to use magic (Michael was not strong enough to do magic without hands) his father could do nothing. Walking over to his struggling father, he placed a hand on his forehead. His eyes slid out of focus, and then he was asleep. Dylan opened his hand and his father’s wand zoomed into his hand. A wave of the wand, and Michael disappeared and then reappeared on the sofa. Another wave, and a mug of steaming coffee appeared on the table beside him. He raised the wand, slashed it violently through the air, and said, “Omarado.” Michael wouldn’t remember anything.
Dylan then walked out of the door and into the street. His parents were weak wizards. They didn’t ever have fun, either. Dylan asked them all of the time to fly around the mountains with him. They always refused. Their life was simple: go to work, come home, sleep, go to stuffy “private parties” come back, and repeat the ritual. His father, Michael, worked at a broomstick factory. All Dylan’s friends thought it seemed like a cool job, but Dylan knew that all he did was make the wood for the neck. His mother, Sarah, owned an Apothecary. Her factory made all sorts of things, from everything to sleeping potions to acne remedies.
Dylan walked around his neighborhood for awhile. He lived in a rich-kid neighborhood. With about 400 houses, and in the middle of Spain, it was hard to get into. Not surprisingly, however, none of the families liked Dylan, and because they didn’t like him, they dind’t like his parents either. One family had found their son hung by his shirt on a lamppost, unconscious. They had confronted Dylan’s parents, and they had proclaimed that Dylan would never do such a thing. When his parents asked him about it, he freely admitted it, however, there was nothing they could do.
After Dylan had his walk, he teleported back to his garage. He found his broom, a SoarFast 52. It was the newest model of broomstick, and could reach altitudes of 40,000 feet, and speeds of 200 miles per hour. After thinking about what he would need, he decided on a pair of long jean shorts, and a T- Shirt. Snapping his fingers, they appeared on him. He then teleported, vanishing into nothingness. He reappeared 100 miles away, in Norway. His friend, Jordan, lived at the base of the mountains. Standing about 30 feet away from Jordan’s house, he saw the light on in his 4th story bedroom. He vanished again, reappearing in his closet. Good call, Dylan told himself, for his mother was in the room speaking to him.
“Are you going to invite Dylan over today?” said his mother Grace, a short, pretty blond woman. “I dunno, should I?” said Jordan, who was also short, with black hair. “Yes, I think you should. He never seems happy. Why don’t you invite him?” asked Grace. “Ok, I will, but don’t bother him, ok?”
When his mom had left the room, he pointed at a clear globe, around a foot high and half a foot long. It glowed purple. Dylan stepped out of the closet and said, “No need.” “Oh hey, what’s up?” asked Jordan. “Nothing.” Dylan said simply. Jordan however, saw the look on his face. “Sorry you had to hear that.” said Jordan. “It’s fine. Do you want to duel today?” Dylan asked. “Uh, sure. Let me go get my broom and tell my mom.” He vanished.
Five minutes later, he appeared, rolling his eyes and carrying his broomstick. “Mom says to not go more than 50 miles away. But she won’t know.” said Jordan, smiling. Jordan was almost as powerful as Dylan. Dylan usually won the duels, but every once in a while Jordan outsmarted him. Jordan may not be as talented as Dylan, but he was just as mischievous, if not more. Nodding, Dylan disappeared. When Jordan joined him in the yard, he asked, “We’re going to fly, right? Or do you want to stay on the ground?” “Fly of course.” said Dylan. A snap of his fingers, and Jordan was wearing the same attire as Dylan.
Jordan mounted his broom and kicked off, going straight toward the peak of the mountain at full tilt. When they got to the top, they were going to duel. The rules were simple. If a person gets knocked off their broom, you cannot attack until they get back on. Also, you cannot cast more than 5 second knockout spells.
Once they reached the top, Jordan said, “cast the Damn spell already, I’m freezing.” Dylan was the only one who had cast the spell to keep out cold with a wand, so he had to do the spell. “Thank God” said Jordan, once the spell was on both of them.
Mounting his broom, Jordan screamed, “GO!” and then flew off, forcing Dylan to pursue him. Jumping onto his broom, he pursued Jordan, climbing higher than him and above the clouds. A jab of his finger and a light appeared in the clouds, tracing where Jordan was. He sped up to about 100 feet in front of where Jordan was. He was at about 40,000 feet, and he knew the nearest mountain was at 31,000 feet. He then jumped off his broom.
He fell, fell, until he was through the clouds and could see Jordan. Raising his palm, a bolt of fire rushed toward him. Dylan was still a few thousand feet above Jordan, so he continued to throw spell after spell at him, who had no choice but to block them. Fire, water, ice, knives, all burst readily from his palm and threw themselves at Jordan. Jordan kept conjuring counters to all those things, for he had never cast a strong shield charm with a wand. A pool of water for the fire, then a steel wall for the water and ice, then a rubber wall for the knives. He kept conjuring things like that out of thin air, breaking all the spells.
Finally, when Dylan was level with Jordan, he put his palms together and purple flames burst out and covered themselves on Jordan: a five second knockout spell, which knocked him off his broom. A snap of his fingers, and Dylan’s broom appeared in his hands again, and he was flying, straight toward the ground, keeping level with Jordan, who was still unconscious. Finally, Jordan woke up, summoned his broom, and bean the duel again, this time he was bellowing the attacks.
They were now only 100 feet from the nearest mountain peak. With a lift of his hand, a huge ball of snow rose into the air and threw itself at Dylan. He waited until the snow was right in front of him, and then teleported to the side of Jordan. Jordan, who was still looking at the snow ball, did not see the fire stream coming from Dylan’s hands before it was too late. He was engulfed in fire, and he fell off his broom. Dylan did not think this would happen, and a pool of water appeared under Jordan, extinguishing the flames. With a frantic snap of his fingers, ropes attached themselves to the unconscious Jordan and tied him to Dylan’s broom, who landed on a nearby mountain.
Jordan woke up 15 minutes later. Dylan knew that he had because he felt a knife go straight through his leg. “OWWW!” Dylan screamed. He then saw, terrified, that Jordan was raising his hand for another blow. Dylan was too fast for him, however, and ropes appeared in thin air and bound him, chained him to the ground. After he had healed his leg, he undid the ropes.
Now, it is not necessary to have spells for all magic. What you are thinking in your head will happen. Spells are used for magic that is too complex to think about. For instance: you cannot summon something if you have no particular thing in mind, if you even know if it exists, without a wand or a spell. If you are on a couch, and you summon a cup that you know is in the pantry, it will come. But to summon a cup without knowing what it looks like or where it is, you will need a wand.
Now, for the wizarding and muggle (I am not going to keep using the word ‘muggle’ I just cannot think of anything right now) worlds. There are two different worlds, both replicas of the other, and both connected to each other through magic. You can teleport between the worlds if using a wand. Other than teleporting, wands do not work in the muggle world. You must produce the magic yourself.
Dylan is a ten year old boy, and he just started to learn magic last year. Already he is stronger than his parents. He is a mischievous boy, and he and his parents both know that he is more powerful than them. And he does sometimes, too, when he loses his temper. For example, last week.
“I’m going to Jordan’s.” Dylan told his Father, Michael. “No, you need to stay home until you finish your homework.” said Michael, attempting authority. “I’m going to Jordans.” Dylan repeated, in the same tone, no indication what so ever that he had heard what his father just said. He walked to the door, reached out to turn the handle, and screamed. “OW!” It was burning hot. Rounding on his father, he screamed, “You did that!” “You’re going to finish your homework, and then you may go to Jordan’s.”
It happened fast. He jabbed his finger at his father, who was standing 20 feet away, and two rings of fire shot toward him and wrapped themselves around his hands, and snapped his arms behind his back. Another jab, and was thrown against the wall. Unable to use magic (Michael was not strong enough to do magic without hands) his father could do nothing. Walking over to his struggling father, he placed a hand on his forehead. His eyes slid out of focus, and then he was asleep. Dylan opened his hand and his father’s wand zoomed into his hand. A wave of the wand, and Michael disappeared and then reappeared on the sofa. Another wave, and a mug of steaming coffee appeared on the table beside him. He raised the wand, slashed it violently through the air, and said, “Omarado.” Michael wouldn’t remember anything.
Dylan then walked out of the door and into the street. His parents were weak wizards. They didn’t ever have fun, either. Dylan asked them all of the time to fly around the mountains with him. They always refused. Their life was simple: go to work, come home, sleep, go to stuffy “private parties” come back, and repeat the ritual. His father, Michael, worked at a broomstick factory. All Dylan’s friends thought it seemed like a cool job, but Dylan knew that all he did was make the wood for the neck. His mother, Sarah, owned an Apothecary. Her factory made all sorts of things, from everything to sleeping potions to acne remedies.
Dylan walked around his neighborhood for awhile. He lived in a rich-kid neighborhood. With about 400 houses, and in the middle of Spain, it was hard to get into. Not surprisingly, however, none of the families liked Dylan, and because they didn’t like him, they dind’t like his parents either. One family had found their son hung by his shirt on a lamppost, unconscious. They had confronted Dylan’s parents, and they had proclaimed that Dylan would never do such a thing. When his parents asked him about it, he freely admitted it, however, there was nothing they could do.
After Dylan had his walk, he teleported back to his garage. He found his broom, a SoarFast 52. It was the newest model of broomstick, and could reach altitudes of 40,000 feet, and speeds of 200 miles per hour. After thinking about what he would need, he decided on a pair of long jean shorts, and a T- Shirt. Snapping his fingers, they appeared on him. He then teleported, vanishing into nothingness. He reappeared 100 miles away, in Norway. His friend, Jordan, lived at the base of the mountains. Standing about 30 feet away from Jordan’s house, he saw the light on in his 4th story bedroom. He vanished again, reappearing in his closet. Good call, Dylan told himself, for his mother was in the room speaking to him.
“Are you going to invite Dylan over today?” said his mother Grace, a short, pretty blond woman. “I dunno, should I?” said Jordan, who was also short, with black hair. “Yes, I think you should. He never seems happy. Why don’t you invite him?” asked Grace. “Ok, I will, but don’t bother him, ok?”
When his mom had left the room, he pointed at a clear globe, around a foot high and half a foot long. It glowed purple. Dylan stepped out of the closet and said, “No need.” “Oh hey, what’s up?” asked Jordan. “Nothing.” Dylan said simply. Jordan however, saw the look on his face. “Sorry you had to hear that.” said Jordan. “It’s fine. Do you want to duel today?” Dylan asked. “Uh, sure. Let me go get my broom and tell my mom.” He vanished.
Five minutes later, he appeared, rolling his eyes and carrying his broomstick. “Mom says to not go more than 50 miles away. But she won’t know.” said Jordan, smiling. Jordan was almost as powerful as Dylan. Dylan usually won the duels, but every once in a while Jordan outsmarted him. Jordan may not be as talented as Dylan, but he was just as mischievous, if not more. Nodding, Dylan disappeared. When Jordan joined him in the yard, he asked, “We’re going to fly, right? Or do you want to stay on the ground?” “Fly of course.” said Dylan. A snap of his fingers, and Jordan was wearing the same attire as Dylan.
Jordan mounted his broom and kicked off, going straight toward the peak of the mountain at full tilt. When they got to the top, they were going to duel. The rules were simple. If a person gets knocked off their broom, you cannot attack until they get back on. Also, you cannot cast more than 5 second knockout spells.
Once they reached the top, Jordan said, “cast the Damn spell already, I’m freezing.” Dylan was the only one who had cast the spell to keep out cold with a wand, so he had to do the spell. “Thank God” said Jordan, once the spell was on both of them.
Mounting his broom, Jordan screamed, “GO!” and then flew off, forcing Dylan to pursue him. Jumping onto his broom, he pursued Jordan, climbing higher than him and above the clouds. A jab of his finger and a light appeared in the clouds, tracing where Jordan was. He sped up to about 100 feet in front of where Jordan was. He was at about 40,000 feet, and he knew the nearest mountain was at 31,000 feet. He then jumped off his broom.
He fell, fell, until he was through the clouds and could see Jordan. Raising his palm, a bolt of fire rushed toward him. Dylan was still a few thousand feet above Jordan, so he continued to throw spell after spell at him, who had no choice but to block them. Fire, water, ice, knives, all burst readily from his palm and threw themselves at Jordan. Jordan kept conjuring counters to all those things, for he had never cast a strong shield charm with a wand. A pool of water for the fire, then a steel wall for the water and ice, then a rubber wall for the knives. He kept conjuring things like that out of thin air, breaking all the spells.
Finally, when Dylan was level with Jordan, he put his palms together and purple flames burst out and covered themselves on Jordan: a five second knockout spell, which knocked him off his broom. A snap of his fingers, and Dylan’s broom appeared in his hands again, and he was flying, straight toward the ground, keeping level with Jordan, who was still unconscious. Finally, Jordan woke up, summoned his broom, and bean the duel again, this time he was bellowing the attacks.
They were now only 100 feet from the nearest mountain peak. With a lift of his hand, a huge ball of snow rose into the air and threw itself at Dylan. He waited until the snow was right in front of him, and then teleported to the side of Jordan. Jordan, who was still looking at the snow ball, did not see the fire stream coming from Dylan’s hands before it was too late. He was engulfed in fire, and he fell off his broom. Dylan did not think this would happen, and a pool of water appeared under Jordan, extinguishing the flames. With a frantic snap of his fingers, ropes attached themselves to the unconscious Jordan and tied him to Dylan’s broom, who landed on a nearby mountain.
Jordan woke up 15 minutes later. Dylan knew that he had because he felt a knife go straight through his leg. “OWWW!” Dylan screamed. He then saw, terrified, that Jordan was raising his hand for another blow. Dylan was too fast for him, however, and ropes appeared in thin air and bound him, chained him to the ground. After he had healed his leg, he undid the ropes.