Just keep Ticking Solo

Scanning the classroom with those golden irises once more, he found that he had been alone and that no one was there to chide his behavior at the moment. A sigh of relief escaped him as he turned back towards the clock and observed how his spell had succeeded in ceasing the animation of the object. Although this was his first time using the 2nd year grade spell, he'd successfully had cast it and a well of pride rippled up into his chest for a moment. There was a lot of practice behind his work in charms, time spent studying the etymology of the incantations, and precise movements of his wand. Practice makes perfect, after all.

Tapping the edge of his ivory-colored wand against the side of his trousers as he looked up to the still clockface, he thought maybe he should have practiced the general counter charm first, to prevent any unsavory issues that would have occurred if his spell went wrong. A quick shake of his head was given and a small chuckle was produced by the boy then, what was he thinking, him? Fail at successfully casting a charm? The confidence in his charm-work was overwhelming, it was rightfully so he thought, having put so much study into the subject. "Though," he mumbled to himself, "I suppose I will still have to test myself," he said, a little reassuring nod following his words.

Those eyes had never left the clock face, he knew he couldn't leave it like that or the professor would easily notice and probably be able to trace the charm back to him; that'd be unfortunate. Raising the ivory-colored aspen wood wand once more, he let his hand shift through the air, the image of an old shield from the middle ages was set within his mind and the tip of his wand was the brush that traced the outline. Unlike his other subject studies within the school, everything he did in charms, he did it with the utmost concentration and precision that the boy could muster. This was one of his passions after all and when he spoke the incantation, he did it with pride, "Finite Incantatem," and he made sure that his speech was propper. Each syllable being correctly pronounced and his pitch adjusted, 'fi-NEE-tay in-can-TAH-tem', would be produced masterfully by the young prodigy.

A red light burst out from the tip of his wand and struck the clock, there might have been a slight hint of doubt that could have crept into his mind when a quarter of a second went by without him thinking that the clock had indeed begun to work again, but, the hand of the clock was just taking its 'time' getting along. There was no smile from Zykeal at this point, those who hold the aspen wood wands should be advanced in the area of charms, be prodigies. It was a shame that some of his fellow students didn't recognize the potential of their wands and failed to see how it resembled their own personality.