The following day after breakfast, Dad looked me over. "You ready to go?"

Before I could say anything, Mum asked, "And where do you think you two are you two going?"

With a happy smile, I explained, "Last night, Dad told me that he would show me where the Firebolt was being made."

Mum shot Dad an annoyed look.

"Fine," she grumbled. "Don't take too long. Alex is only home for a couple of weeks."

"Don't worry," Dad soothed. "I'll have him home before you know it."

As Mum left the room, Dad winked at me, "Let's go before she changes her mind." He quietly urged.

Once we got outside, Dad motioned me to grab his arm.

"Hold on tight."

As my world went black, I felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a small rubber tube. As uncomfortable as apparition was I was starting to get used to the feeling.

Of all the magics I had yet to learn, I was looking forward to apparition the most. Being able to travel the world at a mere thought was extremely tempting. I had once considered trying to teach myself, but after learning that it was very common for beginners to leave behind body parts, I graciously decided I would wait until professionals could teach me.

We popped out in perhaps the most mundane looking room I had ever seen in my entire life. The room was relatively small with an ugly dark green carpet stretched out over the floor. Several uncomfortable folding chairs were leaning against the walls that seemed to discourage anyone from sitting. On one side was a door leading to the outside, and on the other, a door that led deeper into the building.

A little weirded out by the room's aesthetics. I remarked, "This looks like the waiting room for purgatory."

Dad laughed, "It's camouflage, it's supposed to be boring and unremarkable."

Motioning me to follow, "Come on, let me show you the good stuff."

Dad opened the door that led deeper into the building, revealing a ridiculously long hallway that seemed to go on. At the end of the hall was a pair of armored statues that looked out of place but knowing the magical world, they were probably there to defend the elevator behind them.

Once inside the elevator, Dad held his wand up to an unmarked button and, without warning, he pushed it to the handle and then gave it a turn. With a lurch, the elevator started going down. When the elevator stopped moving, the doors opened and revealed a large warehouse.

Inside were dozens of workstations lined up next to each other. I saw a dozen witches and wizards with their wands out as they worked on various pieces of Firebolts. I even saw a couple of goblins assembling the goblin forged parts.

"It's called an assembly line," Dad explained. "Barbara explained the concept to me. It's supposed to make manufacturing a lot more efficient."

I started counting workstations and asked, "How many spells go into the Firebolt?"

"Quite a few," Dad admitted. "Many are relatively simple spells, like the anti-theft, anti-rot, and a dozen other spells designed to keep the Firebolt in top condition. But, that's not counting the more potent spells worked into the broom that make it the fastest in the world. "

"Who's doing the work? Where did you get everyone from?"

Dad nodded, "That's where the enchanting guild comes in. I made some very discreet inquiries among the bronze and silver level enchanters. Most of those I spoke with were happy to get the work and signed ironclad contracts that guarantee secrecy."

"What if someone tries to sell the secrets of what goes into the Firebolt?" I worriedly questioned.

"That's one of the best parts of the assembly line," Dad explained. "Even if someone were somehow able to get around their magical-binding contract. Not one person knows how to do everything, it's all broken up into sections, and no one person knows how to do everything."

Dad ushered me into the back that mirrored his secure workshop in Diagon Alley. From the looks of everything, he used it for experimenting just like his other workshop,

After looking around, I asked, "What about my spell?"

Dad chuckled and patted my shoulder. "You've thrown a wrench into our plans," he admitted. "Your spell is way too effective not to incorporate it into the Firebolt."

Dad sat down and sighed, "Unfortunately, that means all the Firebolts we've stockpiled up until now are scrap."

"I've been thinking about that," I said. "What if instead of just incorporating the Slipstream Charm into the Firebolt, we create another model. Like have the Firebolt, and the Firebolt X or something along those lines."

Dad nodded thoughtfully, "That sounds like a good idea. It will let us continue building a stockpile in preparations for our launch while I figure out how to layer in the Slipstream Charm."

"Do you think it will be tough to fit it into the framework of spells you already have?"

Dad shrugged. "It could take me days, weeks, or even months."

"Months?" I replied in disbelief.

"That's the worst-case scenario. It shouldn't take that long," Dad assured me. "My guess is that it takes me a few weeks to figure it out."

"Oh," I said. "That's not so bad."

As Dad started pulling out pieces of the Firebolt, I brought up an awkward subject.

"Umm, Dad."

Looking up from his work Dad noticed my awkwardness. "What's on your mind?" He asked

Wanting to get this over with, I spat out quickly, "So since Anna, Cedric, and Alicia helped me test the slipstream charm, I kinda, sorta, promised them Firebolts as long as they paid for the materials."

Dad blinked rapidly, processing what I said.

"Alex," Dad reproached. "You can't go around promising things like that without discussing it with me."

"I know, I know. We just got caught up in the moment when we tested my spell."

Dad let out a sigh, "Fine," he agreed. "I'll build them each a Firebolt."

"But the materials aren't cheap," Dad warned. "They probably cost almost as much as the brooms they currently ride."

I blinked in surprise and admitted, "I didn't realize how expensive the materials were."

Dad nodded, "Our spells aren't the only reason why the Firebolt is so fast. Each piece of the Firebolt is hand-selected and carved without magic to prevent any magical spillage."

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"Spillage? I interjected. "What's that?"

Dad waved away my question, "You'll learn about that later when you get into long term enchanting."

Dad tried to return to his speech, but after a moment, he asked, "Where was I?"

"Material cost." I helpfully replied.

"Oh, right," He continued. "Even the Birch and Hazel twigs have been carefully handpicked to ensure they are suited for holding spells. Then you have to factor in how much the goblin forged gear cost. When you add up all the material costs, you are looking at almost 100 galleons."

"Oh," I lamely replied. "Well, I'm sure my friends can afford it. They know they are getting a good deal out of it."

Dad snorted as if that were an understatement.

Still a little put off at my promise, Dad grumbled, "Not to mention the time it will take for me to figure out how to work your spell into the Firebolt."

Dad paused as if an idea just occurred to him. "You know, "I just had an interesting thought. Rather than take the time to build three Firebolts for your friends, how about I teach you how to make one yourself? That way, when your friends can afford the materials, you can make it yourself."

My eyes lit up, "Really? That would be great. I would love to learn how to put one together."

Eager to get started, I asked, "Do you think you can teach me everything in the next two weeks?"

Dad snorted, "No, there is way too much to learn about enchanting in that amount of time."

Before I could protest, Dad added, "But, I can teach you the hard parts and teach you enough where you can get started on your own."

The protest I had been about to make faded away. I was always happy to learn new things.

Dad rubbed his brow while trying to decide where to begin.

"Alright," he said." I suppose I should start with how to make spells last."

Before I could ask what he meant, dad asked," Have you noticed that all the things you've charmed in class never last long?"

I nodded," I just assumed they weren't designed to last."

"They aren't," Dad agreed.

"But, if spells like that don't last long, how come enchanters can sell things that have spells that last for years?"

Dad smirked at me, "Come on, Alex. You're smart. I know you can figure this one out on your own."

I avoided the temptation to roll my eyes. Dad liked to let me puzzle things out by myself. He says that one thing that holds many enchanters back is they don't have the skill to reason out problems for themselves.

After thinking about it, I replied, "Two things come to mind."

Dad motioned me to explain with his hand.

"The first is that you use more advanced spells to enchant things. But, considering how many spells that would entail, I doubt that is the answer."

I scanned dad's face for a reaction, but he kept it blank, not wanting to give anything away.

"My other idea is there is a spell or something that you can use that will somehow make the charm last longer than it should."

Dad smiled, "You're on the right track."

He rubbed my head affectionately and declared victoriously, "I told your mother that you were more suited to becoming a charm-crafter like me than a potioneer like her."

This time, I rolled my eyes. Dad and Mum had been doggedly trying to get me to favor one of their professions my entire life. They had done the same to the twins, but in their case, they each got one.

Mum got Rebecca and was forcing as much potion knowledge down her throat as she could. I felt a little guilty towards Rebecca. I think I had warped Mum's understanding of how much a kid could reasonably learn. More than once, I had caught Rebbeca giving me the stinkeye after a grueling lesson.

Sasha had it way easier. Dad took the easier route and simply dazzled her with magical trinkets he made. It didn't take long for Sasha to become fascinated with Dad's work and begging to let her tag along to the shop, especially when her other option was going into a stuffy basement and brewing potions.

Dad interrupted my musing when he explained, "You were right. Some charms can retain spells and make them last for years, sometimes decades."

Seeing my eager look, Dad went on, "While there are dozen or so spells that can accomplish this, my favorite is the Amber Charm. It's a little known spell that one of our ancestors invented or found somewhere. It's been passed down in our family for generations."

"Is that spell why you're so good at enchanting?"

A slight frown appeared on Dad's face. "Of course not," he retorted. "The spell is only one part of what goes into charm crafting. Actually grafting the spells you want into the Amber Charm is the hard part. It's more of an art form than anything else."

As ideas started forming in my mind, a question popped into my head. "What about magical spillage? What is it, and how does it affect enchanting?"

Dad's eyes brightened when he saw how interested I was and morphed into what I called Dad lecture mode.

"Magical spillage or contamination occurs when magic is used on objects. Even as the spell fades away, small bits of magic are left behind. Normally this isn't a problem. The main issue that arises when you try to enchant materials that have magical spillage. They tend not to hold spells very well. Say I used magic to create all the pieces of the Firebolt. I guarantee that within a year, the broom would be grounded and useless. If you want your enchantment to last, it's better to pay for material gathered naturally."

A look of disapproval appeared on his face as he continued, "There are some charm-crafters out there who will try and sell you things that have magical spillage to make a quick buck."

I waited patiently for dad to finish his rant against enchanters who lack integrity.

He finished his rant on shoddy enchanters by making sure I knew only to buy from a shop with the charm-crafting guild symbol. The guild frowns on anyone making shoddy enchantments unless they are priced accordingly. Having heard this speech on the sanctity of an honest enchanter a million times, I patiently nodded along.

Once he was finished, I eagerly asked, "So what's the incantation?"

"Succinum."

"But, that's only part of the spell." Dad continued. "You also need to picture in your mind Amber in its liquid form."

I shot Dad a questionable look to see if he was messing with me, and all he did was smirk, "Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

As I looked around the room, I asked, "What should I practice on?"

Dad blinked for a moment, then looked around the room, "Ah-ha." He said. "I have just the thing."

He walked over to a cabinet, pulled it open, and started digging around.

After a few tossed items, he pulled out an old dusty mug and set it down in front of me. "Use this to practice on for now."

I pulled out my wand and pointed it towards the mug. Thankfully, due to my childhood exploration of our land, I had seen Amber collecting on trees many times and was able to imagine it easily.

Using all my experience of using mental imagery, I pictured the mug caught in Amber, similar to an insect trapped in Amber.

"Succinum."

I tried not to frown when nothing happened. I guess my mental imagery needed a bit more concentration.

Mentally concentrating, I tried to blot everything out except for my mental image of a mug drowning in Amber.

Right as Dad murmured, "It's a challenging spell. It may take some time to learn it." I chanted, "Succinum."

This time a burst of amber light emerged from the top of my wand and entered the mug. The mug started giving off a soft Amber-like glow.

I turned back and smirked when I saw Dad's eyes bulging in surprise. Unable to help myself, the smug face my friends claimed I had slipped out.

Deciding to tease him a bit, I said in a confused tone, "I thought you said this would be difficult."

Dad gaped at me for a moment before he realized I was needling him.

Sniffing proudly, he replied, "I must be an amazing teacher."

Before I could reply, he turned my attention back towards the mug, "You're only halfway done. Try to see if you can add a simple charm before the effects fade."

Ten minutes later, I shot my dad an annoyed look. As it turns out, getting a spell to attach to the Amber spell successfully was difficult. My freezing charm kept sliding right off.

Frowning, I turned to my dad, who was watching me in amusement. "What am I doing wrong?"

"I told you, enchanting is more of an art," Dad explained. "You're trying to force it, like a hammer beating on a nail. You need a subtle touch. Think of a potter molding clay."

"Keep trying. From the looks of the amber glow, I would say you have a few hours before it fades away."

While I went back to trying to figure out how to attach a freezing charm to the mug, Dad started doing his work—trying to figure out how to work in the slipstream charm. I found it a little ironic that we had essentially assigned each other homework.

Keeping dad advice in mind, I changed my approach. I tried dozens of different ideas. Discarding the ones that failed, I persisted. As I had learned over the years, failing at something could teach me as much as succeeding. Each failure taught me a different approach, and sooner or later, I would figure it out.

"Glacius."

"Glacius."

"Glacius."

"Glacius."

I froze in surprise at my last attempt. I had finally got the spell to attach to the mug.

"I did it," I crowed triumphantly.

Dad looked up from his workbench in surprise.

Wandering over, he picked up the mug and started examining it.

Dad murmured something, waved his wand over the mug, and the amber light faded away.

"Aguamenti."

A small stream of water poured out of the tip of his wand and filled the mug. Dad picked up the mug and closely examined the contents before showing me the results.

"What were you going for?" He curiously asked.

"A mug that keeps a drink cold at all times," I replied.

As soon as he brought the mug closer to me, I immediately recognized a problem. The water inside the mug had utterly frozen solid.

Not missing a beat, I changed my story. "What I meant to say was that I was trying to make an ice maker."

Dad let out a hearty laugh, "Don't be embarrassed. It took me weeks to do my first enchantment. I'm more surprised that you got a spell to stick rather than it not working as intended."

"What went wrong?" I asked.

Dad shrugged, "It could have been a hundred things. Enchanting isn't like other magical disciplines. There is a lot of leeway in how you apply charms. You have to figure out what works for you."

"How do I do that?"

Dad wagged his eyebrows at me, "By experimenting."

He paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him, "Just don't do it at home where your mother can see you."

As I promised him I wouldn't, the image of a certain tower popped into my head. I had the perfect place where I could play. I mean experiment.