Have Wand Will Travel I

The fire wasn't my fault.

I mean, honestly. The basic fire-making spell, Incendio, was one of the first freakin' charms in the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. It was quite literally the magical equivalent of handing a child a flamethrower and telling them to go out and have some fun. And to make matters worse, judging from the table of contents that I was currently skimming through, the charm's water-making counterpart was near the end of this goddamned book!

"Section Five. Page..." I quietly mouth to myself. "Two hundred eighty one."

Really, that just spoke of poor planning on the author's part. Had they never met a kid before?

Though to be fair, I muse as I flip through the pages, maybe the list of warnings that I'd glossed over had been a tad bit more important then I'd originally thought. And it wasn't like I was a 'kid' in the strictest sense of the word either.

But! My point still stands!

Because magic! Magic!

There were only two types of people in this world. Those that wanted to cast FIREBALL, and dirty stinkin' liars.

"Section Three." Though speaking of fireballs… I chance a glance behind me. The conjured red-orange flame had eaten its way through much of my rickety study table at this point, and was now inching its way towards my bed. And though the heat was still fairly pleasant all things considered, a nice offset to the chilly fall weather outside, it was growing worse by the second. No doubt it'd change from comfortable to not nearly so in less than a minute's time.

Already it was getting harder and harder to breath, along with my vision starting to ever-so-slightly blur with tears.

"Section Four." Hmm. Just cutting my losses and running was always a possibility. In fact, given what the matrons would probably do to me when they found out about this whole situation come morning, it was less a matter of if I was going to skedaddle and more a matter of when.

But... not right this second, no.

Just because it wasn't my fault didn't mean I didn't do it. And burning down the place that'd raised me for a good decade or so probably wasn't good on the karma scale eith- A tongue of flame jumps uncomfortably close to my head.

So, I pick up the pace a bit.

"Section Five! Page 186- 199- 231- 341- 281." The fire reaches the bed. I pause and blink. "Page 281!"

The first known example of a Water-Making Spell is thought to have emerged in Ancient Mesopotamia, from the legendary kingdom of Uruk. The creator was thought to be one of the kin-

History was really freakin' cool in my books. Badass magical history even more so.

I stamp hard on an errant ember. But once again, it wasn't vitally important to the current situation, I think.

The wand movement for this spell is a smooth wave movement from right to left, any amount of shaking or stuttering will lead to either no effects or adverse ones. A diagram example is provided below. The incantation is-

Casting a spell without practice is stupidity of the highest order, even for one as simple as limited water-creation. So much could go wrong and so little could go right.

I mean, if I was reading this right, a single mispronunciation could result in me teleporting ten feet to my immediate right instead of shooting a stream of fresh water out of my wand. A move that'd put me firmly outside the orphanage and a good three stories above a very busy street.

But Death was an old friend anyways.

11'' of unyielding English Oak snaps up to face the flame it once created. Something within me calls out and something within me answers. A quiet sort of weight swirls in the air, almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless.

The wand core thrums with barely restrained power. I can't help but grin.

"AGUAMENTI!"

Wizard constitution or no, breathing in lungfuls of smoke couldn't possibly be good for you. So I opened the window and stuck my head out into the chilly early morning air.

Ah, heaven. After I'd hacked my lungs out, it tasted like pure heaven.

But unfortunately, even heaven wasn't forever. I still had to deal with the aftermath of my stupi- awesomeness!

Hmm. On account of no-one trying to bust down my door in their usual attempt to stop whatever cool and genius plan I'd going on at the moment, I think the half-baked muffling charms I'd copied straight out of one of the textbooks beforehand had actually somehow worked.

That was good news, at the very least... Provided they didn't explode in the next twenty seconds since I'd said that.

"..." I silently count to twenty. Nothing happens. Thank Jesus.

Moving on, I pull my attention back to the actual state of my room.

As mentioned before, the spindly study table I'd been using for the past half-decade or so was nothing more than embers at this point, blackened scorch marks on the floor the only marking that anything had ever stood there at all. And while in my heart I knew it was a cheap, utilitarian thing, that didn't change the fact that I'd had it for a good half of my short life.

"Rest in pepperoni, good buddy," I solemnly whisper. "You will be missed."

Wiping away the sole tear that threatened to fall, I turned to my bed. Thankfully, I'd managed to douse both it and the drapes before they got any more than a bit singed. Though now it was soaked completely through with ice-cold water, so that really wasn't much better in retrospect.

I methodically tapped my foot, humming in thought as I looked everything over with a critical eye. Covering this up would be difficult to say the least, especially only with the very rudimentary grasp of magic that I had at the moment. Transfiguring a new desk was way beyond my current abilities. Not to mention getting rid of the water that was already starting to seep through the floor and the burn-damage that covered near every inch of the walls and ceiling.

Yep. Getting caught was basically guaranteed. Especially since the matrons still checked my room every so often, with what Mr. Sheepington who I'd smuggled in a few years back.

And given last year's explosion and… well… and the tomato incident, I was on 'thin ice' with both the orphanage and the local police force already. Two strikes, if you will.

Hm. I didn't know why, but something told me lighting a sizable fire in the wooden orphanage was going to be strike three.

So. What to do now? I drum my wand against the palm of my hand, carefully considering each possibility. Chance getting caught and getting chucked into juvie, which would almost definitely cause me to miss out on Hogwarts? Or just preemptively pack my shit and get lost of my own violation?

Choices choices.

"Ah, well."

I'd decided.

For the millionth time, I thanked whatever magnificent bastard that'd financed the Hogwarts orphan fund. I mean sure, it wasn't jack compared to what inbre- er, compared to what pure-blood families spent on their children on a daily basis, or even to what Harry'd spent on his first trip into the Alley.

But it was enough. Enough to have the smallest bit left over, provided I got all my books second-hand and didn't so much as look at the Owl Emporium.

Enough to buy the magical item sitting before me. The only reason I considered disappearing into the night as a rational and viable option.

I dropped the Standard Book of Spells into the awaiting maw of the backpack. It was quickly joined by seven more multi-inch thick books. And some worn dragonhide gloves. And a dull collapsible cauldron. And a battered telescope. And some patched clothes. And-

Well, you get the point.

The Extension Charm was incredibly useful. Definitely on my to-do list to learn. And while my rugged and rustic backpack wasn't near the level of something like Newt Scamander's house-lab-zoo-suitcase-thing or even Hermione's seventh-book purse, it would do the job I needed it to do.

"..." A few minutes later, I take one last look around the room. My room.

Heh. It wasn't like I was particularly close to anyone here. I had 'friends', of course, but they weren't truly my friends. Just people who seemed to tolerate my weirdness enough to play ball or something every now and then. And… well. I shiver slightly. The less said about my relationship with the matrons, the better.

But still. This place was home... had been home for the entirety of my second life. Letting go without any trace of emotion was something only a monster could do.

"...Well," I eventually announce. "I'm off."

The silence is my answer.

With a slightly rueful grin, I climb out of the window and start shimmying my way down the orphanage's facade. Y'know, like a normal person.

One galleon. I'd exactly one galleon to my name.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus!" Stanley Shunpike grins down at me, either not noticing or more likely not giving a fuck about my young age. Wizards were cool like that. "Th' names Stanley Shunpike, though m' friends call me Stan! I'll be your conductor this mornin' kid, so what's yer name and where ae' ya headed?"

...Six sickles. I'd exactly six sickles to my name. Roughly equal to two hundred ninety rwandan francs. Which made me feel a lot better than saying a euro seventy four.

I bite back a bitter sigh, following Stan as he ushers me on board the magical bus. It still had the sleep setup instead of the more normal bus seats, a series of fluffy looking beds aligned on either side of the aisle.

"Heya Stan, I'm Caster Fay. Call me Cas." Yeah, I know, I know. Caster. Fay. Magic as all hell. What are the odds? But heck, in a world where a kid was named fucking Werewolf McWerewolf the Second before he even so much as saw one of the things, I'd say there were worse things to be called. "And, uh, this thing goes to Diagon Alley, right?"

The bus was near empty of passengers, save for someone snoring their heart out behind a closed curtain near the back. I plop down on a random bed near the middle of the bus, marveling at the feeling. Soft!

"Does it ever, kid! Now, we're close enough that it shouldn't take more than an hour or three, so just hang on tight!"

The bus purrs underneath my feet, before roaring into action. I nearly go head over heels backwards off the bed, only just barely catching myself as the streets start to blur past. The scenery blasts past faster and faster, until I can barely watch without making my head spin. Woah. Trippy.

A smile tugs at my face as I continue to stare out the window.

This was it! Really it! I was going to learn all the magic! I was going to fight all the monsters! I was going to find all the treasures!

I was! I was!

"Urgh…"

I was going to be sick!

"K-kid! Stop staring out the window so much! It'll make you-"

And with that, my kickass journey of Dark Lord punching, dragon-slaying, and magic chasing truly began.

A/N: Likey so far? Hardly a serious story.

Is what Cas doing stupid and ill-planned? Yes. Is it going to be hella fun? Also yes. Hogwarts is a chap or three away. Mostly Cas dicking around in Diagon + the english countryside for now.

Please note that there will be no 'bashing' of any kind. Heck, I like Ron and Dumbledore. Harry'll exist but Cas'll mostly be do his own thing, mostly fucking around with magic and monsters he really shouldn't be messing with.