Chapter 55

There was a brief silence. Eventually, Fudge fished a gold pocketwatch out from under his cloak.

"Half past eleven," Fudge said. "So could we hurry this up? Some of us have to be up early tomorrow."

This has to have been deliberate, Milo thought. Someone knows I have limited spells per day—they might even know that I routinely burn my remaining spell slots on Scholar's Touch before bed—and scheduled this accordingly. Why else would the Minister for Magic himself consent to an inquisition at this hour? Surely he has other things to be doing.

"I think it's been established that I'm rubbish at Potions," Milo said nervously. He had to kill time until he could prepare spells. "Would anyone mind if I did a quick read-through of my Potions textbook to make sure I did this right?"

"But you just have to stir it!" Fudge said exasperatedly.

"Better safe than sorry," Milo said. "If I mess up the stir, the whole experiment is void and I get buried in concrete. I might need the extra help. After all, 'help will always be given at Hogwarts—'"

"—To those who ask for it," Dumbledore finished his motto softly. "Very well," he said to the assembled government types, "I think the request is reasonable enough." Dumbledore said it without any particular weight to it, but somehow it was very clear that, even if he wasn't technically in charge here, his word on the matter was final.

"So I'll just run off and grab my text—"

"I don't think so," Bode said firmly. "If you are some sort of magical creature with powers unknown, I don't think we should let you out of our sight. Professor Snape, do you have a copy of whatever your first year textbook is on hand?"

"Accio Magical Drafts and Potions," Snape said, and, with a flick of his wand, a textbook flew out of a nearby bookshelf and into his hand. Convenient, Milo thought. And a lot less expensive than Drawmij's Instant Summons, that's for sure.

Without a word, the Potions Master passed Milo the heavy, and more importantly, large textbook. If there's one thing about wizards (and Wizards), it's that they never use standardized sheets of A4.

Milo made a big show of opening up the book and reading it studiously. Very studiously.

Twenty-eight eyes bored into Milo's head as he, eventually, turned a page and continued reading at a snail's pace.

"Oh, surely this isn't necessary," Fudge said impatiently. "Just go and stir the ruddy pot, boy!"

"How far from the rim?" Milo asked. "How fast? With what length of spoon? No, I'm sorry Minister, but my life is on the line here. If I'm going to stir it, I'm going to stir it right. I'll just be a minute."

Milo turned another page.

Minutes rolled by. Fudge glanced at his watch every few seconds, and began tapping his foot in irritation. Eventually...

"It's after midnight!" Fudge muttered. "Must we play along with this charade?"

"Oh, it's not so bad," McGonagall said. "I can't remember the last time I've seen someone his age—except for you, Miss Granger, of course—studying so diligently."

"What if he's delaying until the Veritaserum wears off?" Fudge asked.

"A simple enough question to answer," said Dumbledore. "Milo, if you would be so kind as to answer, are you studying with the intention of delaying until the Veritaserum wears off?"

"No, sir," Milo said truthfully, and had to stifle a laugh. That is not why I'm delaying.

"Well, there you have it," said Dumbledore. Fudge grumbled quietly to himself.

Milo slowly reached into his Belt of Hidden Pouches and recovered his most precious possession: his spellbook. Slowly, very slowly, he lifted the thick (but small in terms of height and width) tome and placed it such that it was hidden by Magical Drafts and Potions.

Milo grinned as he began preparing spells. Good thing I was bedridden all day, he thought. Gave me my required eight hours of 'rest.'

Spell preparation is a bit of an odd quirk of the Wizard class. It involved carefully poring over every intricate detail of the magic and memorizing it, but also, at the same time, casting the vast majority of the spell. Ninety-five percent of the casting was done during preparation so that only the very final stage had to be done on the fly. The result was that every Wizard went about their day holding, depending on their level, potentially dozens of unimaginably complicated spells all at the point of being almost finished. Each spell was like a sentence that just didn't quite. Was it any wonder that so many powerful Wizards went mad?

"Not like I have anything better to do," Fudge muttered. "Just a country to run, that's all. Don't mind me."

It takes a Wizard exactly one hour to prepare all of their spells, regardless of how many there are. However, a very infrequently used rule allows them to prepare a fraction of their daily allotment of spells in the same fraction of time, to a minimum of fifteen minutes.

Milo could prepare at most seventeen spells per day, so in fifteen minutes he could prepare one-quarter of that (four spells). He chose Prestidigitation, Tenser's Floating Disk, Mage Hand, and Invisibility.

He quickly stashed his spellbook back into his belt and stood up.

"Okay," he said. "Let's do this thing. But if we're doing it, we're doing it right. I'm a Wizard. I shouldn't have to prove that to you—but seeing as how you're forcing me, I want to make sure there are absolutely no doubts after the fact. And for that, I demand your largest cauldron."

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