The vision in the Mirror of Erised had been more than just curiosity; it had become a goal for Arthur to achieve. As per the vision he had seen, a version of himself where the boundary between intent and reality had been completely erased. No wands. No incantations. Only the absolute, frictionless execution of will.
To reach that state, Arthur knew he had to limit using the wand and sometimes try casting without it. But first, nonverbal casting. Everything should follow step by step.
In the wizarding world, incantations and wand movements were the most important and basic part of magic. They were pre-written scripts designed to help the average, inefficient mind shape mana. But for Arthur, this was a bottleneck. To become closer to the version in the image, he had to learn to cast without it
....
Arthur's social existence at Hogwarts effectively ceased. He removed most of the distractions from his daily schedule. His life became only class, library, and his training ground (abandoned classroom).
In the library, he spent hours cross-referencing ancient texts on "silent casting" and "mental transmutation." He was looking for the theories and thought-forms.
In the practice room on the 3rd floor, he returned, not bringing anything unnecessary, only his wand.
[Occlumency: Beginner (05.15%)]
Occlumency was his greatest asset at the moment (apart from the interface). He could now break down all his skills and knowledge into layers on his own, thanks to the mental discipline. He could track his physical exhaustion, keeping it in one corner of his mind while solely focused entirely on the mana flow.
Arthur stood in the middle of the room. His first spell is simple: Lumos.
First, he cast it with verbal chanting.
"Lumos."
The wand tip ignited instantly. A steady, white glow filled the room. Arthur felt the mana flow through his magical core, shaped by the vibration of his vocal cords, to the wand, lightning the tip.
'Interface,' he thought.
He focused on a particular skill.
[Wandless casting: Beginner (08.78%)]
Then, he extinguished the light. He closed his eyes. He attempted to cast without any command; he tried to manually simulate the frequency of the light spell using only his partitioned mind.He stood in silence for six minutes. His forehead beaded with sweat. His hand began to tremble as he tried to "force" the mana into the correct geometric shape within his wand.A faint, pathetic spark flickered at the tip of the wand, then died.
[Wandless casting: Beginner(08.79%)]
"Again," Arthur rasped.
[08.80%...08.82%....08.84%]
....
For weeks, the abandoned room echoed only with the sound of Arthur's heavy breathing and the occasional thud of a failed spell.
Non-verbal magic was not something easy to practice even with a progress bar helping. It was a grueling, manual labor of the mind.
Every time Arthur tried to cast silently, he had to perform hundreds of simultaneous calculations. He had to visualize the intent and mana output all at once.If a verbal spell were like working with a machine, non-verbal magic would be like manual labor with difficulty.
By the middle of February, his progress was agonizingly slow. While his roommates were playing Exploding Snap or discussing Quidditch, Arthur was staring at a feather, trying to make it hover through pure mental exertion. His internal log was a record of frustration, but Arthur refused to stop. He viewed his failures not as "weakness" but as stepping stones.
'The bottleneck is the interface,'he muttered silently to the empty room,'I just need to practice non-stop, that's it.' his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
He didn't seek out professors for help. Flitwick would talk about "feeling the magic"; McGonagall would talk about "firm intent." Arthur didn't want feelings. He wanted perfection. He was building a discipline, one step at a time. And if the process was "pathetically slow," he would simply work twice as long.
.....
One evening, Arthur walked back from the library, heading to the great hall for a light meal. His robes dusty and his mind exhausted with the strain of a three-hour non-verbal session, he passed Hermione Granger.
She was sitting at a desk surrounded by five different books, her quill flying across the parchment. She looked up as he passed. For a second, their eyes met.
Hermione saw a boy who looked like a ghost—pale, hollow-eyed, and radiating a cold, singular intensity that made her skin crawl.
Arthur looked at her for a moment.He didn't nod. He didn't speak. He simply walked past her, his mind already planning about tomorrow's session. He was moving toward the goal he had set after seeing the mirror.