Useless. A failure. A joke.

They’d been calling him that for years. Since childhood, since his first failed spell, since it became painfully obvious he wasn’t like the rest of them. The only thing he’d ever been good at was running his mouth, and even that wasn’t enough to keep him in their good graces.

He reached for his wine, only to find the glass empty.

Lumos. That was what his father expected of him. A simple bloody light spell, something even first-years could manage in their sleep.

His teeth ground so hard, it made his jaw ache.

He could do this. He had to.

Or he was out.

And no matter how much he hated them, no matter how much he sneered at the whole twisted, self-important mess that was his family, he wasn’t ready to be nothing.

The next few days were spent locked in his room, staring at his wand like it was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“Come on, you useless twig,” he muttered under his breath, flicking it sharply. “Lumos.”

A pathetic flicker of light sparked at the tip, then fizzled out almost immediately.

Cassian gritted his teeth.

Again.

“Lumos.”

Nothing.

He exhaled through his nose and began stalking the room like a caged animal. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t an actual Squib. He had magic. He just… he just wasn’t good at it. That wasn’t the same thing.

Another flick. Another failure.

The next flick sent the wand clattering against the wall.

“Argh!”Cassian ran a hand through his hair, pacing harder.

Fine. If magic wouldn’t work, he would do what he did best. Bullshitting.

The day of the lecture arrived faster than he would’ve liked.

Cassian stood in front of the gathered crowd… Mudbloods, half-bloods, a few lower-ranked purebloods looking to climb their way up. His father sat in the front row, watching with sharp, expectant eyes. Damien lounged beside him, smirking.

Cassian paced the backroom, sweat prickling at the back of his neck. His collar strangled him, his robes weighed a ton, and his gut churned like a cauldron ready to boil over. He was fucked. Absolutely, royally, irreversibly fucked.

The festival hall buzzed on the other side of the door, the walls vibrated with voices, shifting chairs, clinking glasses. His father was out there. Uncles and Aunts, too. Probably grinning like a kneazle waiting to watch a rat drown. Any minute now, they would call his name, and he would have to step onto that stage and pretend he had even a fraction of the skill expected of him.

He gripped his wand so tightly his knuckles went white.

“Lumos,” he muttered.

Nothing.

His jaw clenched. He shook out his wrist, tried again. “Lumos.”

A flicker of light sparked at the tip before sputtering out. Cassian let out a sharp breath, resisting the urge to fling the useless twig across the room again.

This was a joke. A bad one.

Regulus had thrown him into this knowing damn well he couldn’t pull it off. This wasn’t a second chance… it was a test, a last-ditch effort to prove whether he had even the slightest worth. And if he failed, that was it. No more dinners at the family table, no more inheritance, no more anything. He would be cut off completely, left to rot in some dingy back alley with nothing but his name, and even that would mean fuck-all once they disowned him.

Cassian smacked his thigh, hissing under his breath, hoping the pain would jolt his drowning mind clear. “Should I just run? I got some gold. Could live in the Muggle world or something.”

The thought was stupid. He would be dead in a month, probably less. He knew jack shit about Muggles, besides what little they taught at Hogwarts to mock them, and he was about as capable of surviving on his own as a flobberworm in a drought. But staying here meant walking onto that stage, holding up his wand, and proving, again, just how much of a failure he was.

“I would sooner hex myself into oblivion than grovel with those filthy Muggles.”

His fingers curled around the useless bit of wood in his hand. “Lumos,” he muttered.

Nothing.

His eyes pulsed, hot and tight in their sockets, his breath coming short and shallow. He’d never actually panicked about magic before. He’d been angry, humiliated, pissed off at the universe for making him a Rosier with all the magical talent of a sack of potatoes… but he’d never felt like this. Like something inside him was clawing at his ribs, trying to get out.

A sudden, splitting pain tore through his skull. His vision blurred, the world tilting, collapsing inward. Then…

Silence.

For a moment, there was nothing. No stress, no fear, no sneering relatives waiting for him to humiliate himself. Just a hollow void, stretching endlessly. Then, a jolt, like being yanked forward by invisible hands…

***

Cassian’s eyes flew open as if someone had doused him in ice water, but the wary focus behind them was unmistakably different.

The first thing he noticed was the floor. Black marble, polished to a high shine, reflecting the dim glow of candlelight. The second thing was his own hands. Pale. Thin. Unfamiliar.

What the fuck?

Cassian, or whoever the hell he was now, stared at them, flexing his fingers, feeling the odd disconnect between thought and movement. He reached up, running a hand through his hair, finding it longer than he was used to. His heart pounded against his ribs, confusion surging like a tidal wave.

Then the memories hit.

A flood of thoughts, images, emotions that weren’t his… except they were. A grand dining hall. Mocking laughter. A father’s cold disappointment. A wand that barely sparked. Like pieces of a puzzle he had no interest in solving, memories filled his vision.

Cassian Rosier.

That was his name. His life. His problem now.

The realisation slammed into him like a brick wall. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was… where? Back on Earth? A teacher? A normal fucking person? He was alive, living his completely unremarkable life, and now…

Magic.

He was in a fucking magical world.

A sharp knock rattled the door.

“Master Cassian?” a voice called. “It is time.”

His stomach twisted. Time for what? He scrambled through the borrowed memories, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. A lecture. Magic. Lumos. Oh, fuck.

He didn’t know how to do magic. He just learned magic was real.

Panic clawed up his throat. The old Cassian was barely capable, but at least he knew how to try. He didn’t even have that. He had no clue how wands worked, no idea if he was supposed to feel something or channel something or…

The knock came again, more panicked, urgent this time.

Cassian, no, he had to stop thinking like that, he was Cassian now, whether he liked it or not. He took a shaky breath and forced his legs to move. One step, then another, until he reached the door. His hand hovered over the handle.

Breathe. Just fake it. You are good at that.

He opened the door.

A house-elf stood there, hunched and wringing its hands, shivering like it expected a kick at any moment. It didn’t even dare to meet his eyes.

“Ahh!” Cassian yelped, taking a quick step back.

The poor creature flinched so hard it nearly toppled over.

Cassian blinked, his mind scrambling. Right. House-elves. He recognised this thing now… memories that weren’t his still slotting into place. But that wasn’t what rattled him. It was the sheer familiarity of the term. House-elf. He knew that from…

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

The Harry Potter discussion. His mates back home had gone on about it now and then, something about books, films, a world full of magic. But he’d never read the damn things. Never seen the films either. Just nodded along, maybe made a joke or two about broomsticks up the arse.

And now he was in it.

He swallowed the rising panic and crouched slightly, eyeing the elf. “Sorry about that,” Cassian blurted, his words awkward. The apology felt strange in his mouth, like wearing someone else’s skin. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You alright?”

The creature gasped like he just split reality in half. Wide, bulging eyes locked onto his face, pure disbelief written across every wrinkle.

Cassian frowned. “What?”

The elf opened its mouth, closed it, then gave a shaky bow. “Master Cassian… Master Cassian is…” It shook its head violently. “Master Cassian must come now. Master Regulus is waiting.”

Right. That.

He took a slow breath and straightened up. No time to deal with whatever the hell that reaction was. He had bigger problems. Like stepping onto a stage and pretending he had a single clue about magic.

The walk through the hall felt longer than it should’ve. His mind kept drifting, like he could somehow think his way out of this mess. He needed a plan. A way to fake it. But his thoughts were a mess… fragments of his own and Cassian’s memories colliding.

He froze mid-step.

Wait… Lumos. That was a phone command in his old life, wasn’t it? Something about turning on the flashlight. And “Lumos” sounded a hell of a lot like “Lumen,” which meant light.

That was it. A light spell.

He exhaled, adjusting his robes. Alright. He could work with that. He might not know magic, but he knew light. He could bullshit his way through a lecture about it. The magical world was stuck in the bloody Dark Ages anyway… half these people probably didn’t even know what electricity was. He could rant about wavelengths, refraction, candlepower, whatever. As long as he looked confident, they would eat it up.

The corridor stretched ahead, leading to the stage. His father’s voice echoed faintly beyond the door, probably introducing him. He picked up the pace, ignoring the way his palms felt a little too clammy.

Then something shifted. Not in the room. Not around him. Inside.

It wasn’t a voice. No dramatic whisper in his ear, no deep, ancient presence. Just a feeling… like something in his head had… opened.

A book. No, not a book. A scroll, endless, unfurling in his mind.

A list.

– Lumos – First Year Spell – [Insufficient Mastery]

– Nox – First Year Spell – [Insufficient Mastery]

– Alohomora – First Year Spell – [Insufficient Mastery]

– Wingardium Leviosa – First Year Spell – [Insufficient Mastery]

– Flipendo – First Year Spell – [Insufficient Mastery]

What the hell does ‘First Year Spell’ mean? Cassian frowned, scanning his borrowed memories. A vague recollection surfaced… something about learning them in his first year at that oversized medieval castle they called a school. Hogwarts. Right.

He exhaled sharply, eyeing the strange floating list in his head. Lumos – First Year Spell – [Insufficient Mastery]. A whole menu, just hanging there in his mind like some ridiculous game interface.

His mouth twitched. Well, that is bloody weird.

He focused on Lumos. As soon as he did, more details unspooled in his head, like flipping through a book.

Various descriptions unfurled in his mind, as if he were leafing through a guide, reading neatly organised explanations of the spell.

Lumos – First-Year Spell

A basic light-producing charm. Primarily used to illuminate dark areas. Commonly taught in the first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Incantation: Lumos. Required wand movement: A small upward flick.

Then, another layer… like hearing a professor drone on about it.

“Lumos is the most elementary of illumination charms. A simple spell, requiring minimal magical effort. Proper pronunciation and wand movement are key. Any competent wizard should be able to perform it with ease.”

Cassian nearly laughed. “Any competent wizard.” Yeah, well, that ruled him out, didn’t it?

Spoiler

[collapse]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep