A/N: This is my second attempt at this fanfic. The new start will hopefully get rid of some of my more childish plotlines. I know that a lot of you only read my last story because it was Haphne. Not to worry, I am about 95% certain that I will be keeping that pairing. That being said, this story will have a heavy focus on the OC and his family history; I promise it'll be worth the read. I had already planned this arc in The Butterfly Effect, but it was too childish and rushed for my taste. I realize that this first chapter does not have Harry Potter in it, but I think introducing the OC first will give you a better idea of what to expect. Yes, he will be powerful. Yes, there will be a very good explanation as to why later. If you are looking for something new to tickle your fanfiction fancy, then you are in the right place. If you do not like new ideas, there are plenty of other stories that are more conventional (you can even PM me for some suggestions). That being said, it is time to read, so enjoy these first four thousand words and give me some suggestions. The plot is not set in stone as of yet and this is your chance to influence the story while it's fresh.

October 25th, 2014

"Our last-minute representative will be… William Solo!"

The words should have been at the forefront of his mind, yet he found them to be almost as uninteresting as the scattered newspapers around him. The Daily Prophet,they called it, as if it actually reported anything newsworthy. The only articles of interest had been magically cut and pasted into a sealed notebook, their giant letters almost pleadingly imploring one to read them. Two weeks of newspapers had only provided two headlines which even warranted a complete read. As he opened his notebook, mostly out of boredom, the words "Durmstrang Headmaster Found Dead Inside of Office" and "Sirius Black Spotted Near Brighton" seemed to leap out at him.

Of course, he had read the rest of the admittedly mundane articles. If he was to be picked, he needed to do his research. Curiously, the papers seemed to continuously mention a boy named Harry Potter, who seemed to be a major celebrity at the young age of fourteen. Of course, so was he, in his own twisted way. Some of his earliest memories, at least the ones not clouded by his ever-loyal headache and the voices in his head, reminded him that he was indeed a celebrity in the muggle world – or at least he used to be.

After countless hours of pondering he had only been able to reconstruct snippets of his past, which frustrated him to no end. The faces of his parents were always hidden by a headache. Their voices seemed to reverberate in his head, only to be lost to a fleeting thought. His only clear memories began in a white bed, surrounded by men and women wearing the oddest clothing he had seen. Despite their distracting attire, he still remembered their words vividly. They were, after all, part of his first memory.

"Mr. Blackrock, do you have any idea where you are?"

He, however, only looked at the tall man with a confused expression. The man tried again, seemingly impatient. "Mr. Blackrock, do you realize that being an illegal wizard is punishable by life in prison?"

Finally, he opened his mouth. "A wizard? I'm no wizard."

Exasperated, the man pulled out a long silvery stick. "This… wand was found in your jacket when we recovered you from the explosion. Surely you must have known what you were doing carrying it around, even if it is certainly unique."

He was more confused than before. He did not remember ever owning such an object, yet memories of the wand flew to the forefront of his mind, as if he had always known about it. Before he could respond to the man, a woman to the man's right asked him another question. "Are you aware that your parents' magical forays nearly killed thousands of people? Did you know that your secret would get people killed?"

"But… I didn't do… I didn't kill anyone!"

"Damn right you did! In fact, if we hadn't contained the area on time, the entire building would have collapsed on top of downtown Atlanta! You were found at the site of the explosion with a wand. Regardless of your age, your crime endangered the lives of countless Nomages and almost blew the Statute of Secrecy. As it stands, we will need to take your statement under Veritaserum."

"Veritaserum? I don't even know what that is. Wait, don't I get a lawyer?"

A short balding man stepped towards him and gazed at him calculatingly. He said, "That would be me. Unfortunately, if you were to find another lawyer you'd be all but admitting to having knowledge of the magical world. Seeing the extent of the crime, I would advise you to take the truth serum. It will look better to the jury and it will show cooperation."

Looking defeated, he said, "Are there no laws protecting me as a minor? Considering I've done nothing?"

"I take it you plead innocent then," interrupted the first man who had spoken, looking more irritated than before. "We cannot make a habit of pardoning children when they wield the power of an atomic bomb at their fingertips. As it stands, you are an accomplice to multiple counts of murder, the endangerment of wizard-kind, and illegally residing in the United States. As I must ask before administrating the serum, how do you plead."

Seeing no escape, he muttered, "innocent."

"Very well then," said the woman dressed in green robes, "open your mouth so that we can administer the Veritaserum."

He grudgingly opened his mouth, and the interrogation began.

"What is your full name?"

"Aaron Alfonso Blackrock," he said, surprising himself with his knowledge. It seemed that the truth potion was indeed magical.

"What are your parents' names?"

"William and Anastasia Blackrock."

"Are your parents wizards?"

"I do not know."

The interrogator looked startled for a moment but rephrased her question. "Before today, were you aware of the existence of magic?"

"No."

Looking startled again, she pressed on, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Did you or your parents ever seem to do anything that seemed… unnatural?"

Aaron felt a tug on his chest to the right of his heart but answered nonchalantly. "No, we lived as normally as any billionaire family could."

"Were you aware of anything going on in the 74th floor of Blackrock tower that would set off the explosion?"

"I was not aware of any explosion, but the nuclear reactor that powers the building is situated around there in case of emergency so that the lower floors can evacuate."

Sighing, the interrogator asked her final question. "Mr. Blackrock, how do you explain your possession of this wand and the existence of your magical core?"

Once again feeling that tug at his chest, he responded, "I do not know." He could have sworn he heard a voice echo his statement in his head.

"Very well then Mr. Blackrock, I see no reason to continue this interrogation. Your statement does not provide any evidence of guilt. You may take the antidote now."

After taking the disgusting antidote, he voiced a question that had been nagging at him. "Where are my parents?"

Another woman in red robes stepped forward and looked at him sympathetically. It was the best treatment he had received all day. She gently told him, "Both of your parents died in the explosion. I'm sorry."

"Oh," responded Aaron, not being able to muster much grief as he could not even remember their faces. He heard a soft whisper in the back of his mind that suspiciously sounded like, "she lies."

However, his thoughts were interrupted by the same rude man as before. "He has not even explained why there was magical residue in that explosion! We really can't be consoling the only witness after a short testimony. Perhaps he resisted the effects!"

The witch in the red robes snapped at the man. "Richard! You know as well as I do how valid a testimony under Veritaserum is! Not even the most powerful wizards have been able to resist it, yet you are accusing a fourteen-year-old boy to be able to. As he has been cleared, he is now under my jurisdiction as he is a magical orphan. Or have you forgotten that I am the head of the department of Youth Affairs?"

The man, Richard, now looking furious but cowed, responded curtly, "I have not forgotten that, Susan, but there has to be a way to discover the source of the explosion. My department needs answers! We will at least be keeping his wand for inspection."

At that moment, the short lawyer finally decided to speak up. "Actually, under the Wand Act of 1915, he is a magically gifted child over the age of 11. Thus, he is entitled to a wand, especially one that matches his magical core."

Richard glared at the man. "Are you really going to quote this minor law to me and hinder my investigation? The public will have our heads if we do not solve this mystery."

"Be that as it may," cut in Susan, her blue eyes staring him down, "we cannot simply ignore the laws at our convenience. I must kindly request you hand the wand back to Aaron here before I file a complaint about mistreatment of an innocent minor."

Grudgingly, the man thrust the metal wand into Aaron's hand. However, the entire room looked on in awe as the wand bonded to him and a magical aura permeated the room. "I've never felt so alive," whispered Aaron as he held the metal rod in his hands almost lovingly.

"If that does not prove beyond a doubt that he has never used that wand before, I do not know what will. Though it's origin and composition are intriguing, we do not have the legal right to inspect it without a warrant, which will be difficult for you to get," stated Susan, her red robes matching the color of Richard's furious face. She turned to Aaron and asked him sweetly, "Since we are done here, is there any family that can take you in temporarily? We will need to find you a home and enroll you in Ilvermory but I would like to take your opinion on this into account. It always ends better that way."

However, at the mention of family, Aaron seemed to have gone into a light trance. The wand seemed to have augmented the whispers in his head, but they were drowned out by his own. "Emily," he whispered almost fondly as he disappeared from his bed without a sound, leaving a stunned crowd of adults behind.

SPACER

William's daydream was interrupted by the arrival of his roommate, Kevin. As per usual, Kevin ignored him as long as he stayed to his side of the room. Truthfully, they both avoided spending time in the room as much as possible. While Kevin would hang out with his friends, bemoaning his bad luck in roommate, William would walk around the school campus, ignoring the calculating gazes he received from all but the lower years, but they had not interacted with him enough to understand the reasoning.

Simply put, William was odd. He had joined after a month of classes had already begun. He was thrust into first year classes but quickly took to any spell he learned. As he advanced towards his appropriate year, he seemed to take to magic even more easily. Eventually, he surpassed all of his year's pupils, generating some degree of resentment. With his new name, his past was hidden, but the students still resented him. It did not help that their calculating gazes were often met with a smirk or a cold glare.

Magic simply came too easily to William. He cast his spells as if he had been casting for years. With minimal intent and vocalization, his spells came to life. His transfiguration was simply extraordinary. However, none was more extraordinary than his wand. Somehow, any spell cast by the wand was colorless, making them near invisible. Though his research had pointed to the metal being Palladium, the core and workings of the wand were still a mystery to him.

To him, it was a mystery to be uncovered. To his classmates, it was an unfair and frankly terrorizing advantage. For the full month that he had attended school, he had been unable to form significant bonds with anyone, not even his roommate who was already out the door.

Waking up from his trance-like state, he stopped gazing at the Karkaroff article - the article that had signified his way out, that gave him a fresh start. The school had held a last-minute election to send one student to England to compete in some tournament. As the announcement was made a few weeks before the tournament, the selection process was rushed and eventually the faculty needed to choose between ten students that had applied. Though they could have sent multiple students, the school did not have the time to prepare a convoy and pre-selected their competitor, much to the dspleasure of the British magical embassy. Days later, they selected William - partially because he was a prodigy but mostly because it seemed that he did not seem to fit in at Ilvermory. In Hogwarts, he would have a chance to start over for the second time. Unbeknownst to him, his teachers favored him and hoped he would come out of his shell and put his talents to good use.

Whatever this tournament is, it's a fresh start, he thought to himself while changing into his pyjamas in front of the mirror. The whispers in his head seemed to agree, but he chastised himself for not tuning them out as he usually did. As usual, he ran a finger over the scar on his chest. Though he never voiced his concerns about his peculiar scar, the scar ached him whenever he used powerful magic or tried to delve too deeply into his thoughts.

It was a constant reminder of his difference, but he had always liked being different. Well, he thought to himself cockily, perhaps not different, but extraordinary. With a half-smile on his face, the now-millionaire lay down in his bed and began his fruitless nightly routine. Though his scar ached and the exercise had never procured any memories beyond that fateful day in June, he would allow the memories to float to his mind to remind himself that his sanity remained.

Flashes of everyday events zipped in front of the other, most consisting of time spent studying magic. The day he had learned to make a book levitate was quickly replaced with the memory of learning the disarming charm, a feat he had accomplished the very same day. Though he had only about a month of clear memories, even those felt convoluted. However, all his memories of magical learning always seemed to lead him to one specific memory: the first time he had ever used magic.

After the shock of being seemingly transported through an invisible tube faded, Aaron found himself in front of a small mansion. It was by no means modest but gave him a sense of home nonetheless. In his current amnesiac state, he could not remember who the owner of the house was. For all he knew, it could be his. Seeing no other option as he was stuck in an unknown location, he hesitantly approached the door. He only needed a light knock on the door before a girl his age opened the door and stared at him in shock and recognition.

"Aaron! You're alive!" the girl exclaimed and wrapped her arms around him. Though he did not know the girl, he found himself reciprocating. To his surprise, he felt wetness on his chest where her head was. It seemed that the girl had been crying quite extensively and had just continued.

Just as he was becoming uncomfortable, she pulled away and looked into his eyes. She saw no recognition in them. "Aaron?" she asked lightly. "What's wrong? I thought you had died in the explosion. They said everyone on the top floors was dead. They said you and… mum and dad were dead."

Whatever she was going to say afterwards was interrupted by another batch of tears, only this time Aaron was too deep in thought to notice. Apparently, this girl had known him before the accident. Her parents had also been killed, but what did that mean to him. Was she… his sister?

Not noticing that she was crying, he voiced his thoughts out loud. "Who are you?" he asked her, wincing at the hurt on her face as soon as he asked her the question. Perhaps it was not the right time to interrupt her crying, but the whispers in his head seemed to be egging him on and a sense of urgency emanated from his chest.

She stared at him disbelievingly. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, choking on her tears, before finally being able to respond. "How can you not remember me? We've known each other all our lives! My parents have always worked closely with your parents, we've been playing together since we were four! And just last week we… we ki- "

However, another bout of tears interrupted her thought. Aaron felt bad, he did not like to put the recently orphaned girl through any more distress. How he wished he could remember everything and make her feel better. Seeing her light blue eyes red and full of tears made him want to comfort her, but there was nothing he could do. Not until he could remember. Not until he could become himself again.

"I woke up with no memories of my past. I only know my name because of the truth se-" he interrupted himself, not knowing if he wanted to expose the girl to any of the crazy magic he had been exposed to. Instead, he continued, "-because someone told me my name. I have no recollection of any events prior to today, yet somehow, I have managed to retain knowledge of the world. I wish I knew you, but I do not remember anyone – not even my parents."

She looked at him in shock, not knowing whether to believe him. She gazed at his face for what seemed like hours. He stared back, taking in the girl's image, trying desperately to remember her. She certainly did not have a forgettable face and her milk-chocolate-colored hair, though messy from crying, framed her face almost angelically. If he did not remember her, there was no hope for his memory. She opened and shut her mouth twice, looking unsure of what to say. Having interrupted his examination of her, she spoke the third time.

"This doesn't seem like one of your pranks. You really don't remember me, do you? I can see it in your eyes. It's as if you're looking at me for the first time. I'm glad to see you still find me pretty," she said, the ghost of a smile almost finding its way to her sunken face. "My name is Emily Weiss, and I am, and always will be, your best friend."

Try as he might, the mention of her name still did not trigger any relapse of memory. However, he smiled at the girl. "I do like the sound of that. My name is Aaron Blackrock, and I have no idea who I am," he said in a mock-formal tone. Any other day, she would have laughed at his antics, however, her face composed itself into a mask of concern and determination.

"Come inside, let's see if I can get you to remember me. I have a lot of videos and pictures of us together. Maybe that can help you!"

Before he could follow her into the house, however, a strange tingling in his wand and chest made his hairs stand up. Without knowing the source of his suspicion, he said, "They're coming here."

Confused, Emily asked him, "Who's coming? Come to think of it, how did you even get here alone? The tower is almost nine miles downtown."

Bringing out his metal wand from his pocket, he held it out for her to examine, all qualms about not exposing her to magic out of his mind. Somehow, he knew that her memories were going to be erased, and the whispers in his head seemed to agree. "I may have teleported here."

"Teleported? That's crazy talk! That technology has not even been invented yet!" she cried out to him incredulously.

"Not technology… magic," he responded automatically, surprising even himself.

"There's no such thing as magic!"

"Then how do you explain my appearance here?" he asked, before he was distracted by a sharper pain in his chest. They were about to find him.

His brain seemed to go into autopilot and for a second he felt as if he had known about magic all his life. "They are coming to get me, and they will clear all your memories of me. You must hide your memories from them; they will look for any memories tied to my name. Come to think of it, is there any other name that you can remember me by?"

Dumbfounded by his cryptic response, she responded, "Well, we used to have names for each other when we used to play as children. You used to call yourself Will Solo after your dad and I would be Abby Organa after my mom. We loved pretending to have Star Wars last names. Otherwise, you've always been Aaron to me."

"That'll have to do. You must bury your memories when they clear your memories. You must associate me with that other name and keep it as your greatest secret. Maybe then you will have some memory of me."

He added under his breath, too quietly for her to hear, "Please remember me."

She looked at him, dazed, and replied, "How do you even know this? Also, who is coming for me?"

He responded in a low voice, as if it were the last thing he would say to her. "The wizards," he whispered as four wizards in black robes apparated to the front of the house.

"I will find you again, Emily, I promise," he said, gently taking his wand out of her hand.

As the wizards approached, one grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside. He said, "You have caused us a lot of trouble. You are no longer safe. We are taking you to a safe location where Ms. Covell will brief you and take you to your closest relative."

He heard him, but his eyes were still on the form of the seemingly broken girl approached by two of the wizards. For the first time, he looked up towards the wizard flanking him. "What will happen to her?" he asked softly.

The wizard attempted a sympathetic look but failed rather miserably. He did not seem to be very expressive. "Her memories of you will be erased, and her memories of magic must also be erased. No one can know that you survived the blast."

Though he had a gut feeling of their intentions, the news still hit him like a punch to the stomach. This girl was the key to rediscovering his past and they were about to strip him of his only connection to his past. "Must you really make her forget everything about me?"

The man grunted in response, "Yes. You are too prolific and her knowledge of you could potentially expose the wizarding world. Unfortunately, you will need to become a ghost in this world for the time being. It will all be explained to you shortly."

After saying this, the man held on to his arm and the world disappeared briefly as he was pressed into an invisible tube. Moments later he found himself in front of the same red-robed woman as before, her blue eyes filled with worry. She spoke to him softly, "I'm sorry they had to go after you in such a fashion, but you really must not be around the Nomages at the present moment for your own security."

Aaron resentfully glanced at her and retorted, "Why do you have to do that to her? Why can't people know that I am alive?"

Unfazed by his resentful tone, she explained, "According to Nomag authorities, you are dead. Their cameras recorded the last minutes before the explosion, and you were seen walking on the 80th floor. Your survival would raise too many questions about how you survived, and the evidence of magic in the blast already complicates our investigation. They are calling it a terrorist attack. You, as the son of the CEO, are already prolific enough. We cannot have anyone recognize you."

"What will happen to me then?" he asked timidly.

"You will live with your uncle here in Atlanta. He is currently being briefed on your situation and has already agreed to take you in. Unfortunately, the paperwork that we are putting together is making it seem as if you were adopted from an orphanage. If your parents left you anything in their will, we will covertly make sure it finds its way to you without compromising your new identity."

"New identity?" he asked incredulously.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Yes. Unfortunately, your name is too well-known and keeping your first name will raise too many eyebrows."

Fortunately, Aaron had few memories to his name. The change would be rather irrelevant. "I see. I do have a request then. My name will be William Solo."

Sensing the determination in his voice, Susan replied, "Very well, I will let the office making your papers know. Your uncle should almost be fully briefed by now. We should get going."

"One last thing," interjected Aaron, or William as he would be soon called, "how will I go to school?"

She gave him a genuine smile and said, "As you will be integrated into the wizarding world, you will be attending Ilvermory Academy pending their review of your paperwork. You will be behind your peers, but there is no better magical institution in this side of the world. I am sure you will be doing magic in no time, if your accidental apparition is anything go by."

She winked at him and happily told him, "Welcome to the wizarding world, Mr. Solo."

SPACER

Her welcoming words echoed in his mind as he finally succumbed to sleep. He had a long flight the next day.