Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
Alexander Dantes was not on the Hogwarts Express.
He sat in the shadow of the Forbidden Forest, which overlooked the magical village of Hogsmeade. One would not be able to tell by looking at him that he had spent the last few months sleeping outside, as his clothes were clean, his hair trimmed, and his skin had the healthy glow of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors. Only two things stood out on him that would make anyone do a double-take, the first would be the numerous scars that covered his skin, a reminder of how his family was murdered in front of him, and his eyes.
They did not glow with repressed power, nor were they a striking shade of color, inhuman to look at. In fact, they could almost be described as perfectly ordinary were they not staring with the intensity of a thousand stars at the tracks leading out of Hogsmeade, disappearing into the distance.
Alexander had spent much of this past summer healing. He did not know or understand just how raw he was still feeling over his family's deaths, not until he was alone in the wilderness. He must have walked for hours, aimless, before coming upon a mountain in a forest of trees. With no preparation, no food or water within his grasp, he began to climb. And as he ascended, he felt clarity coming to him.
It felt as though he were climbing out of the very pits of hell, reaching the safety of the mortal world, and then choosing to ascend even higher. He climbed, his limbs burning with exertion, and he relished it, reveling in how it made him feel alive.
Alexander could not reach the peak before night fell, nor even climb half the steep mountain. He used his magic to melt a ledge into the cliff-face and summoned water to quench his thirst. But the hunger Alexander let remain, unwilling to use magic to summon sustenance to him, no matter how it might help him. He needed to do this.
So on that cold, windy shelf, he slept. His weary body succumbed without issue, however, and he slept through the night to wake up stiff the next morning. He resumed his climb eagerly, but the moment he left his ledge, Alexander paused, turning back to it.
A moment later, it vanished, magic reversing the changes he made. He didn't know why, but Alexander felt it was important to undo the damages he had done to the world, even the ones that were beneficial. He thought to himself how important it was to take only what was needed and to return what he didn't. He resumed his climb.
Despite how hunger sapped at his limbs, Alexander felt invigorated. His mind, hands, and magic were the only tools he had, and while he had honed the first and last the most over the years, he was determined to rely on the second as much as possible. It was balance, Alexander realized around noon that day. He wanted balance.
A fresh wave of energy overcame him, and Alexander climbed the afternoon away. He was high now, and he could see nothing but forests and mountains all around him. As he stopped that evening to rest, he was again tempted to find food, and this time he obeyed.
Spotting birds flying in the distance, dancing in front of a setting sun, Alexander raised his hands and readied his magic, but something told him to stop for a moment. He watched as one of the birds swooped down, faster than anything Alexander had ever seen in his life. It disappeared into the trees below, and after a moment, he expected a puff of feathers to fly up, signaling the demise of the bird. Instead, a moment passed before the bird reappeared, a rabbit clutched in its talons.
It returned to a nest somewhere to Alexander's right, but he was no longer focused on it. Instead, he marveled at the sheer daring required to do that, to launch yourself at the forest below and to weave between the interlocking limbs of the trees, all to catch a meal. Alexander wondered how hungry the bird must be to do that, how long it's gone without food to wait for the perfect moment to feast.
The sun set, and Alexander went to sleep without eating once more. Despite the protests of his body, Alexander slept peacefully and woke up refreshed. His magic almost seemed to be thrumming with joy within him as he started once more.
Over the past two days, his climb hasn't just been a vertical ascent. There were times where he needed to cross chasms, leap across gaps, or backtrack to move forward. When and where he could, he would forgo the use of magic, saving it within him, although he didn't know for what. But the moment he reached the peak, Alexander knew exactly what he was preserving his magic for.
Watching the birds soar in the distance, without a care in the world, Alexander steadied himself. It was no easy thing to look over the edge of a cliff, at the steep drop below. There was fear, of so many different reasons, and also regret. But Alexander steeled himself, and with three quick steps, he threw himself from the mountain peak.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
Alexander Dantes did not fly, but he would later argue he fell with style.
Even that was inaccurate. He tried to keep himself aloft, but the magic slipped through his grasp as he slipped through the air. On the edge of his senses, something lurked, some path forward that would enable him to fly, but it eluded him. He fell through the air like a rock.
Alexander would later comfort himself that at least he didn't scream as he fell thousands of feet. He was very alarmed, however, with how quickly the ground rushed to meet him. Struggling to fly futilely, Alexander gave it up, and instead wrapped himself in spells in an attempt to slow himself down.
It was partially successful. Instead of landing with a splat, Alexander bounced. The spells failed almost instantly, and after flying through the air, Alexander collided painfully with a tree, a much more meaty thwack that echoed sounded as unpleasant as it felt. But once he finally stopped moving, he was pleased to discover himself in one piece, if a bit bloody and bruised.
Alexander must have laid there for half an hour before he could muster up the energy to move. When he finally staggered to his feet and looked around, examining the clearing he was in, a storm of thoughts overcame him.
It should be noted that Alexander Dantes was not a normal man. A normal man, or wizard, would have the belief that they walked away from an accident that should have killed them, that they should consider themselves lucky. Alexander, however, was only focused on the magic and, more specifically, how his magic acted under duress. And he how much he wanted to fly.
So he made a camp. Using his hands, he built himself a small shelter to protect himself from the elements. Using his magic, he warded away hostile creatures, unwilling to kill them when they could be spared so easily. But as he did this his stomach rumbled, alerting him that he had not eaten for days. So he foraged.
Finding fish was easy; catching them by hand was not. But one transfigured net later and Alexander had the beginning of supper, in the form of two fish. Alexander had little experience in preparing fish, as the only fish he had ever seen were already cut and prepared by the time they reached his local market. Still, he gave it his best shot and was rewarded with two raggedly looking fish.
He quickly had them roasting over a fire built by magic. Before too long, a mouthwatering smell filled the air, and Alexander's stomach rumbles increased to match it. Finally, he could wait no longer and pulled the two fish to himself.
Looking back on it, Alexander could admit it wasn't a very good meal. But with how starved his body was for nutrients, it might as well been a feast of the gods with how fast he devoured it. All too soon, he was finished, and he almost used his magic to catch more fish when he stopped himself.
Was he actually hungry? Could he even eat more if caught it, or would he just get sick? Alexander wrestled with the thoughts before regaining control over himself, forcing himself to relax. He and his body were one; its instincts were not in control of him. So instead of stuffing his face as it wanted to, he instead went to bed.
Alexander rose with the sun the next day, and even though he was stiff from the climbing and the hard crash, he felt amazing. As he looked around at the rough camp he had created, up at the peak that towered overhead, he found himself grinning in excitement.
This would be fun.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
Alexander never did attain actual flight that summer. He climbed up the mountain every seven days and threw himself off, trying and failing to use his magic to achieve flight. Sometimes he would succeed in gliding a little, projecting himself forward for one startling moment, but it always failed, and gravity reasserted its domain over his body.
But he took it as progress. After every failure, he would return to his little camp and would reflect on the experience. For the climbs Alexander always abstained from eating, he knew it was illogical, but something about the experience demanded it of him. But he always feasted when he returned to camp.
The fasting, feasting, and physical labor began to show on his body. He was never a large boy growing up, always slight and average in height. But a summer of climbing a mountain showed on his maturing body, broadening and lengthening his frame. He would never be as large or fit as a bodybuilder, but with his magic and mind, he didn't need to be.
Daphne Greengrass, his girlfriend, only managed to call him a handful of times that summer using the tablets he had made, but Alexander appreciated it nonetheless. Her father was being poached by members of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, and regardless of their neutrality, a certain image needed to be portrayed. The heiress of the family talking to a muggle-born like Alexander? It would have resulted in the deaths of everyone involved.
So Alexander focused on himself. He read when he wanted, what he wanted, casting magic to his heart's content. The Ministry of Magic supposedly tracked magic cast in Great Britain, but Alexander had long since determined that to only meant magic cast by a wand. Most likely by some spell cast on each wand before Ollivander sold it, as a ward that could cover and track a country, even as small as the United Kingdom, would be too massive for anyone to accomplish without sacrificing millions.
His isolation from civilization was particularly telling when one day, an owl joined him on his climb. It was only partly through the second day of his ascent, just past half-way to the top, when it alighted on a broken ledge nearby. It hooted at him, confused as to what he was doing, and to Alexander's surprise, he hooted back.
It took a long, embarrassing moment for sanity to return to him, and he quickly transfigured a ledge to sit on, as well as a bowl of water for the poor creature to sip while he regained his senses. A moment later, he relieved it of its letter, sending it on its way to no doubt tell other post owls what an absurdly weird wizard it just delivered mail to.
Alexander shook his head to clear his thoughts. Post owls don't secretly gossip about the witches and wizards they serve. He turned over the letter in his hand and was briefly amused to see his Hogwarts letter addressed to "Some Bloody Cliff, Scotland". He briefly wondered if that had drawn anyone's attention before it was sent off or if it was all done by charm.
Opening it up, he was reminded that he needed to make his way to London to buy his supplies, before realizing that was foolish and that he could just purchase them in Hogsmeade. However, it was the second letter inside that garnered his attention, as they were his O.W.L. results.
The neat little row of Outstandings brought a smile to Alexander's face. He wondered if the Hogwarts professors were aware of these scores. He would have loved to see McGonagall's or Vector's faces when they realize he aced their classes, despite their nasty dispositions.
Alexander only intended to take Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration for the next two years. The less time he spent with the other students, the better, especially since he was becoming increasingly disappointed with the wizarding world. He had done more magic in one summer than in years at Hogwarts, with their structured learning and classes. Modern witches and wizards didn't seem to understand that magic meant freedom; it wanted to be used. Using it to make teacups tap dance was a crime.
A tremor of magic went through him. Alexander tensed, before realizing it was his own, reacting to his thoughts. Reinvigorated, he resumed his climb, embracing the knowledge that he was about to use his magic for the highest pursuit of all: survival.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
AN: Year Six has arrived! Out of all the stories so far, this is my favorite first chapter. I liked the idea of Alexander finally being able to fully explore using magic in a survival like scenario, and after the events of his fifth year this seemed like a perfect moment for it. Nature does have a remarkably positive effect on mental health, and an entire summer spent outdoors would help Alexander, I think anyway.
The attempt at flight is actually how I imagined Voldemort learned to fly. Flight is something that's always been associated with freedom and I figured Voldemort would learn it for reasons related to power. I do not consider Snape's little gliding act at the end of The Half Blood Prince to be true flight, more of a competent wizard knowing how to safely land from a great height. Before you ask, no Alexander will not fly during this year or the next. I did think it very important for his development though, for other reasons.
I hope you all enjoy the story!