Wandless, Wordless Magic
Chapter 1
His gaze was locked. Sweat cascaded down his brow, and his hand reached out as if inches from grasping salvation.
Unyielding green eyes, backed by sheer willpower, stared with laser-like focus upon his target. Somewhat like the Basilisk,
anyone with any measure of observational skills would argue that this particular pair of eyes held power.
Though young and far kinder than any basilisk, one could not argue that.
For as those verdant eyes strained to stay on target, as the eyelids surrounding them twitched and spasmed,
something seemed to click in the world surrounding him.
The page rustled, as if the wind took pity on the child and granted his dire wish.
Large, innocent green eyes, reddened from being held open too long, widened in disbelief.
'I DID IT!'
The boy thought as he jumped up in celebration and pumped his fist in the air.
Immediately surrendering to the burning itching sensation in his eyes, the boy rubbed hastily at the watery orbs for relief.
The boy, one Harry James Potter, had used magic intentionally for the very first time.
The year was 1987, the month August, and the day unimportant. For as big a milestone as Harry thought that day to be,
it was merely one of many under the cooling summer sun at No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey.
In retrospect, mayhap it was a rather auspicious day. The boy had, after all, managed something that far fewer wizards and witches
of the modern age had managed than ages long since passed. Wandless, Wordless magic.
And it was all thanks to a surprisingly unique thought, incubated and cultivated ever since Harry was 4,
and had managed a similar feat when his cousin, Dudley, was chasing him.
As was typical of the non-magical boy, he intended harm on his cousin Harry, and Harry intended to avoid that if at all possible.
Unfortunately for the black-haired child, avoidance was not in the cards for him that day,
and he was quickly cornered in the small back garden of his aunt and uncle's home.
The larger boy encroached, slow and menacing, with a pudgy fist rising in the air, only to be thrust back at the gesture of his smaller cousin.
No contact.
Just vivid imagery, intent, and power.
Harry had stared at his opened palms at that, absolutely flabbergasted.
Dudley of course went running and crying to his parents and Harry suffered dearly for the incident.
But the young orphan thought it worth the price, because he had discovered something that day.
He had discovered that he had the power to make things happen with his mind. Be it magic, telekinesis,
or any other purportedly unnatural circumstance, the boy could do it.
And if he could do it once? He sure as hell intended to do it again.
This started Harry on a long 3-year endeavor for self-discovery. He knew how to replicate what he had done.
In the moment he telekinetically threw his cousin, he had had a bit of an epiphany.
He understood almost exactly how it had worked, where the power had come from, how he had guided it,
and how it had impacted the world around him.
Unbeknownst to Harry, he had an unusually high self-awareness where-regards his own magic.
He could feel it in himself, weak as it was. He could direct it in himself, sparse as it were.
And he could use it on the world around him, infrequent though his success was.
His main problems stemmed from a feeling. He always felt as though he were being drained.
As if the house around him had stuck a straw right into the center of that small bright pool in his gut.
He worried often if, perhaps, Dudley or one of his friends had actually managed to poke a hole in whatever held
that special something inside of him when they'd hit or kicked him too hard one those times he was caught or cornered.
How else could he explain the constant drain on this.. power? He knew there was something wrong,
he knew that as unnatural as his gift was (according to his relatives at least) that the drain was even more unnatural.
He couldn't explain it though, and he couldn't change it.
And so he decided to work around it.
Young harry soon decided to spend many of the hours he was locked inside his cupboard under the stairs,
focusing on growing that small reservoir of glowing power. He of course couldn't have known that
he was practicing very basic and primitive meditation, nor that it was decidedly not normal,
even for magical's, to succeed at expanding his magical core like that.
But then, that was a result of the special deduction Harry had made. See, Harry had discovered the power of intent, and belief.
Oh the power of those two things were recognized the world over in the magical community, but not nearly to the extent that Harry believed.
And that was what made all the difference.
Because the rest of the Wizarding World was wrong, and Harry was right.
Those two things were far more important than foolish wand waving and silly incantations.
Now on the heels of his recent victory, after finally having nurtured the growth of his reserves enough to support the sieve-like quality of it,
and to have enough left over to conduct magic anyways, Harry would soon find that his endeavors would become much, much easier.
Belief had great power after all, and Harry had just obtained proof-positive that the incident all those years ago hadn't been a fluke.
He knew now that he could, and that revelation was like breaking a dam. No longer would Harry be held back by doubt and suspicion.
Confidence took those emotions' place, and the next time Harry would try to move something with his mind he would find it infinitely easier,
far less taxing, and significantly more successful.
The next few years would find Harry making great strides in magical prowess, greater even than Albus Dumbledore
(in this aspect at least. the man was known to be one of the most powerful magical's of the last 3 generations),
for even Albus could only ever perform paltry parlor tricks without a wand. Harry on the other hand, hadn't even a clue that he should use one,
and the lack of that imposition would afford Harry an ability long thought lost.
Wandless Wordless Magic.