There were still ten days before the start of term, and Charles had just about managed to cast Accio wandlessly—though he still had to mutter the incantation under his breath.
"Not bad at all," Jack said, ruffling his hair with the air of a very satisfied teacher. "That's good enough for now."
"I remember you Muggles have a saying... something about equal and opposite reactions, don't you?"
"Yeah, that's Newton's third law. Why?" Charles asked, suspiciously.
Jack pointed toward a cliff in the distance. "Ever wondered what would happen if you used Accio on that mountain over there?"
Charles blinked. He had not. And now that Jack mentioned it, he realised he had no idea.
A second later, Jack showed him exactly what he meant.
With an effortless motion, the old man stretched out his hand—and promptly launched himself across the ravine.
Charles stood frozen, utterly gobsmacked, watching his grandfather swing about the cliffs like some grey-haired Spider-Man. When Jack returned (somehow slowing himself down with what Charles suspected was a Depulso charm), he landed lightly on the grass and smirked.
"See what I did there?"
Charles nodded, wide-eyed.
"And that's not all."
Jack flicked his wand at the pile of rubble Charles had left from his earlier spell practice. The shattered stones knit themselves back together into a boulder-sized rock. Jack cast Leviosa, stepped onto it like he was boarding the Knight Bus, and aimed his wand at the opposite cliff.
Accio cliff!" he declared. The boulder—and Jack—went soaring across the ravine.
When he returned, looking incredibly pleased with himself, he said cheerfully, "Magic. Quite the wonder, isn't it?"
Charles nodded again. He was starting to think his grandfather was mad in the most alarming sort of way.
"Right then." Jack cracked his neck. "Time to teach you the Killing Curse."
Charles practically fell over. "You're kidding! We're actually doing that?! If anyone finds out, I'll be sent to Azkaban for sure!"
"Not if no one finds out," Jack replied calmly, and with an absolutely unfunny seriousness.
Charles stared. He knew exactly what Jack meant: no witnesses, no problem. Comforting.
"Hogwarts is dangerous," Jack said with a rare gravity. "No one knows what that socket-eyed lunatic is going to do. Like it or not, you need something—one last resort. A magical big stick."
Charles, who had already died once and come alarmingly close to doing it again, held a deep and renewed appreciation for staying alive. He hesitated for a long moment… then nodded.
"I'll only use it to defend myself," he thought. "Just for emergencies."
But Jack didn't begin the lesson right away. Instead, he wandered to the cliff's edge and sat down. After a quiet moment, he said, "You know, I looked into your memories. But I didn't finish them."
Charles nodded again, solemn this time.
"I don't know what a soul truly is, or a mind, or your so-called 'moral compass.' But I do know this—Dark magic… it changes people. I don't know how, just that it does."
He gestured at the sea below, where the waves gently lapped at the sand. "It's like that beach. At first, the water's shallow. You keep walking, thinking it's safe. But suddenly there's a drop, and you're gone—just like that."
"There are people who can resist. People with strong enough wills, who've braced themselves before even stepping in. People like me."
He glanced at Charles. "Your pain… I felt it. That's why I stopped watching. I couldn't bear it."
"But I believe you can resist it too."
Charles didn't reply. He simply sat beside Jack like a silent stone, watching the seabirds circle far below, their wings white against the blue.
Perhaps it was the strange feeling of having crossed into another life, but Charles often found his memories of his past life to be a tangled mess—clear yet blurry, like two conflicting parts of the same story.
"Grandpa," he suddenly asked, curiosity nudging him, "why did you decide to learn the Killing Curse?"
Jack froze, looking as still as stone, much like Charles, before taking his time to answer. "I told myself it was to comfort a friend."
"At the time, he had just gone through the greatest tragedy of his life…"
Sighing, Jack added, "Looking back now… it seems like everyone was at fault."
He gently ruffled Charles' hair, a fond but distant look in his eyes. "Kid, remember this: whether it's with friends or family, if you've got something on your mind, speak up. Communicate, understand each other. And maybe try a little more forgiveness."
Charles didn't quite understand what had happened in the past, but he got the message loud and clear. He gave a quiet nod.
"Alright, up you get," Jack said, standing with a stretch. "Time to start. Dark magic curses, like the Killing Curse, all have one thing in common: the caster must be certain of their intent. If you say you're going to kill someone, you have to mean it. A curse cast with doubt is nothing more than a light tap."
"Which means…" Jack thought for a moment, then chose a word Charles would understand. "You can't be a spoiled brat if you want to use this curse properly."
Charles finally got it. He was sure now that this lesson would take him somewhere he wasn't entirely ready for.
"Three days," Jack declared, holding up three fingers. "I'll teach you the basics of the curse in three days. If you've got talent, you'll grasp it within that time. If you don't, well, it'll take you thirty years to even scratch the surface."
"And after that," Jack added with a wicked grin, "I'll teach you some combat skills."
Thus began Charles' reluctant study of the Killing Curse.
"Grandpa," he said during one of Jack's demonstrations, "isn't this curse supposed to be green? Why is it red now?"
Jack blinked, clearly surprised. "You're worried about Azkaban, right? So I changed the color for you."
Charles shook his head. "But this looks just like the Cruciatus Curse…"
Jack paused. That was a fair point. The only difference between the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse was whether you ended up in Azkaban's single or double cells.
"Hmm. Let me think," Jack muttered. "Go play for a bit."
Charles didn't head off to play. Instead, he wandered to the kitchen and began preparing lunch.
It was a simple meal—fish and chips. If someone had just arrived here, they'd have had a hard time telling whether the British were still recovering from German bombings.
As they sat down to eat, Jack beamed proudly. "I've figured it out. No one will recognize it as the Killing Curse, and they certainly won't mistake it for the Cruciatus."
Charles sighed in relief, secretly admiring his grandfather's magical ingenuity.
But after lunch, when Jack demonstrated his modified Killing Curse, Charles almost choked on his food.
"Why is it rainbow-colored?" Charles said, his mouth twitching. "What… what is this?"
Jack, clearly offended by Charles' reaction, crossed his arms and huffed. "Fine. Would you prefer it pink?"
Charles broke out in a cold sweat, hastily replying, "Rainbow's fine! It's… it's quite nice."
"Hmph!" Jack folded his arms, still sulking. "I'll teach you pink, then."
"Alright," Charles sighed in resignation. "I'll go to the headmasters and tell them that the owner of this wand used a Killing Curse in pink."
Jack nearly exploded.
In the end, Charles reluctantly began his studies with the Killing Curse... now in its rainbow form.
(End of Chapter)