The Arcanum House

Throughout the four hundred year history of the Arcanum House, no one had ever dared cast the spell. For as long as anyone could remember there had been the spell book in the library, with a cover made of skin - no one asked what kind - and dyed blue. Its pages were very old, and of different colours where a new author had added their latest spells. Every spell inside - from the most simple spell for getting rid of warts to the most archaic, written in a lost language and capable of destroying nations - had been cast. Except for one.
Enter Bernie.
Bertrand Arsinoe Samson Arcanos was twelfth generation Arcanos. He had lived in Arcanum House his whole life, and didn't know it could be any different. His father had grown up in this house, and his father's father, all the way back to the Great Arcanus himself. Of all twelve generations of magicians, Bertrand was the absolute worst. When he was very young, Bertrand had made a dragon appear in the middle of Loch Ness (mostly by accident, admittedly, since he had been only three at the time, but Bertrand chose to spin the tale differently when at social events), and ever since, he had hardly been able to make a kettle boil, much less attempt the ancient spells in the spell book.
Not that he hadn't tried.
Of course, after the dragon incident, great things were expected of Bertram. His father and grandfather and uncles and aunties all did their darndest to encourage Bertie's magical abilities. His aunt Marjorie constantly bought him toads for a reason that he had never been able to figure out. His uncle Nestor enjoyed pulling coins out of Bertie's ear (but he never let Bertie keep them). And his grandfather Julius Marcus Arcanos the Dastardly seemed to think it would strengthen Bernie's constitution to