The instructor stood before us—his attire impeccably formal despite the simplicity of the lesson ahead. He regarded us down the narrow bridge of his nose, eyes framed by small, round spectacles that glinted under the light. Then, without a word, he lifted a flawless ebony wand and began to demonstrate the motions with deliberate precision. We followed in silence, striving to mirror each movement. He only sighed, shook his head once, and repeated the example.

At last, when he seemed satisfied with our efforts, he introduced the word that would solidify the lesson into sense. The spell, he explained, was of American origin—spoken in English rather than the pretentious Latin favored by Europe’s older institutions. I raised my own wand and declared, “Incapacitate!” A silvery-white flash erupted from the tip, the recoil sending it spinning from my grasp. The instructor’s glare was sharp enough to sting. I stammered an apology, meek and immediate.