Nothing ended well when John decided to score some Brownie points. Taking a novice wizard under his wing? Yeah, that was him using every last ounce of compassion he had left—which, let’s be honest, wasn’t much. It was the beginner's pitiful look and pleas that made his big heart skip a beat. Besides, it was always gratifying to meet someone with the same hunger for the magical arts.

Nevertheless, he started to regret his decision. He wasn't very teacher material. Far from that. Sometimes, he'd just slouched in his armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, cigarette in the other, grumbling instructions to his pupil.

But hey, there were perks: he got a sort of an assistant. He had someone to do all the annoying grunt work, and all it cost him was some half-arsed advice. Cheap labour. This way, John could continue to be his arrogant self while—

"Bloody hell!" John scolded, lunging to smother the fire with his coat. "I said focus, you pyro! Not set the place ablaze!"

It turned out that the apprentice had more gaps than he'd imagined. Honestly, his patience was wearing thin by the hour. The attempt at an elemental spell had failed, igniting some of the surrounding materials.

"Stop trying to fix it, you're not—" a new flame shot up, this time to begin scorching the curtain— "fixing anything."

John sighed, suppressing the rest of the flames with a snap of his fingers. Nevertheless, he kept the bucket of water beside him in case the situation continued to escalate. The smell of burning cloth filled the room. 

"Alright, Sparky-rookie. Lesson number one," John said, glaring at the novice. "Don't mess with fire until you know what you're doing. Lesson number two: If you burn down my flat, you're paying for it."