GROWING UP IN A MAGICAL CREATURE RESERVE -one shots-

➣ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

•───── ⋅ ☾ ☽⋅ ─────•

April 1985

"Come on, do it again" Remus urged with a firm, encouraging tone that practically dared John to try once more. John let out a frustrated sigh but nodded, reaching for the candle with determination in his eyes.

With unwavering focus, John fixated on the idea of fire - the mesmerizing dance of heat and light. He carefully traced his hand along the candle's wick, trying to coax out that dormant spark of magic. His first attempt produced no results, leaving the wick unlit.

Frustration surged through him, a powerful mix of disappointment and irritation that threatened to break his concentration. He tightened his grip on the candle, using it as a physical and emotional outlet for his frustration. In a surprising twist, a burst of enchantment ignited the flame he had been striving for.

John's lips curled into a triumphant smile as he looked up at his father, seeking approval for his success. But Remus responded with a weary sigh, extinguishing the newly lit flame with a wave of his hand. Taking the candle from John's hand, Remus regarded his son with paternal understanding and guidance.

"You know it, John," Remus began, his voice patient and gentle, "the flame responded more to your rage rather than your intention."

A hint of annoyance crept into John's voice as he responded, his brows knitting together in a brief scowl. "It's the same thing, Dad."

Remus gave his son a knowing look. "We both know that's not true."

John's pout reflected his weariness and disappointment after a long session of trial and error. "I'm so tired."

Remus chuckled warmly, "I never expected you to do it quickly," he confessed, his amusement evident in his voice. John's genuine confusion prompted him to explain.

"Then what's the point?" John inquired, genuinely puzzled about the purpose of their efforts and time.

In response, Remus offered a patient smile. "As we've talked about, love, the practice—" he began, only to be cut off by John's finishing words.

"Makes the master," John concluded.

"You made the TV explode just because you were angry," Remus interjected before John could voice his argument. Sensing his son's potential retort, he continued, "It's precisely that—your raw, uncontrolled magic reacting to your emotions. You need to control it before you even consider taking a wand in your hand."

A glimmer of hope sparked in John's eyes as he posed a question, a hint of desperation hidden beneath his words. "If I do it, can I take a break?"

Remus met his son's gaze, a smile indicating his understanding of John's desire for some rest. He nodded knowingly and extended the candle back to John. "If you succeed, we'll call it a day," he replied with a grin, offering the candle back to his son. After all, he knew that John rarely shied away from a challenge, no matter how tough it might be.

John's brow furrowed with determination as he accepted the candle once more, his fingers curling around the wick with unwavering resolve. Closing his eyes, he visualized a glowing, radiant candle in his mind, the soft light casting delicate shadows in his consciousness.

His thoughts connected to the warmth of cherished memories: the crackling fireplace on winter evenings, his parents' smiles, and the comfort of their embraces. Laughter shared with his cousin Caelum, Ember's playful antics, and the loving affection of his extended family. Summoning these emotions, and with a determined flick of his fingers, he mimicked the spark that lit the wick. A mesmerizing dance of flames sprung to life, illuminating the room.