STEALING THUNDER

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Wow! 89 favs and 131 follows! This is already beyond my wildest dream. Anyway, thank you for giving this story a chance, especially the reviewers! Also to answer some of the questions in the reviews, I'm still undecided about the pairing, so some suggestions would be nice. And this is not a slash, not that I had anything against it, but as this is my first story, and I don't think I'm up to writing much complicated romance, and slash stories are usually more complicated in its drama. I had considered Fleur, but there's already a lot of fan pairing with her, so I'm actually thinking about another OC.

"Huff…. Hah…." I panted as I tried to catch my breath.

The sun was unforgiving, the sunlit clouds were starting to drift away further and further, and thus the sky above was becoming much clearer, and blue shone toward the field under. The wind was just as strong, a hint of heat could be traced in the air, it was the peak of summer.

Darius found himself running through the grounds area surrounding the manor yet again. He had been doing this for a couple of months every morning. He bent his body over and put both of his hands on his knees to support himself. This was the 3rd lap he was taking today.

"Damn, why does it have to be so damn hot!?" cursed Darius as he swiped yet another sweat that was running down his hair. At this point, his body was already completely drenched from the effects of the heat.

"Just one more, one more turn!" he said in a determined manner as he straightened up his body back. He moved his feet and began to jog again through the grounds.

For the past months, Darius had always resigned himself to exercise his body by running through the grounds every morning after breakfast.

"It's never too early to train." he had said to himself.

This particular activity usually took 15 to 30 minutes of his time. He didn't force his body to run too fast, speed wasn't his goal, for now. No, what he hoped to achieve with the activity was to strengthen his agility and endurance.

Darius continued his sprint across the grounds until he reached a particular favourite spot of his located in the back part of the area. It was a small artificial lake with a wooden dock. His steps halted in its progress, he began to walk closer to the dock.

He sat down and the edge. He took out his footwears and dipped his feet to the water below. The temperature of the water had a calming effect on his body, it wasn't cold, nor was it as hot as the air. He had first discovered the spot a year ago when he began to explore the area of the manor.

The manor was located nearby several hills. Its area was mostly covered in trees, a large portion of them were alder trees, although several different other trees did exist too. Behind the manor was a large flat ground, to which a small lake existed. A large weeping willow stood on the side of the lake, its branches high, reaching the sky, while the thick green vines branched down, low, blanketing part of the lake. The lake wasn't crystal clear or like that, instead it was in a mix of blue and brown colour. The stream was calm, not a single ripple on the surface. Reflections of trees could be seen on the surface of the lake. The water body was a perfect mirror of the view surrounding it.

Darius swung his feet back and forth, feeling the water splashing a bit through his leg. He had always come to this spot when he needed inspirations or just some time to calm himself. His hands travelled to the hem of his shirt and in a second, he took his shirt off. He laid it down on the spot beside him, atop of the dock. In an instant, he jumped to the water below.

The lake wasn't particularly deep, it wasn't a natural lake, after all. So Darius wasn't that afraid of getting drowned. There were also no magical creatures hiding in the lake, for the Macmillan chose to keep their animals on a separate ground from the manor they lived in. And swimming was also one of his favourite activities from his previous life, sure, he wasn't the best swimmer, but he did always enjoy a good swim every once in a while, and now that he had a personal lake, he occasionally took a swim in the morning after his exercise. There were no drawbacks either, for swimming was also a good sport to keep the body healthy and strong. Darius swam around, exploring the depth of the lake while surfacing back every minute. The warm water was just the right thing to comfort his body that was drenched in sweats. He looked above to see that the sun was still shining high and strong, it was getting higher, indicating that noon was arriving soon.

I was now dried and all cleaned up. I had taken a hot bath as soon as I returned from my swim. It was enjoyable and refreshing, just what I needed at the time. I was dressed in everyday clothes, short pants that went just under my knees and with a loose t-shirt hanging from my body.

Currently, I was sitting on the chair in my room, facing the desk in front of me. I was about to open the book in front of me when a sound could be heard from my window.

"Hoot."

An owl was tapping on the glass window, it was visible that its talons were clutching something. And since this is the Wizarding Word, it meant that it was carrying a letter. The owl in question was a common barn owl. The owl was pale, brown feathers adorned its body and long wings. It was an owl that I was unfamiliar with.

I walked toward the window and opened it up. The owl flapped its wings once before settling on my window ledge. I took the letter from the clutch of its talons. "Wait." I said to the bird.

I took a small owl treat from the jar on my desk and gave it to the bird. "Here you go." to which the bird just tilted its head at me before taking the treat and flew away. I took the letter out of the envelope and uncovered it.

Dear Darius,

My father said to me that I shouldn't send the gift alongside the letter, so I'd just deliver the souvenir personally, instead!

As you know, my family is on a trip to Romania, right now. And it's amazing! They have dragon reserves here, dragons! Can you imagine? Fire-breathing giant dragon, they must be so cool! But sadly, the reserve was currently closed for public visit, something about maintenance after one of the dragons went out of control, or something like that. But it's okay!

Oh, and there's also this really cool market and shopping area called the Minunestrad! It's nearly as big as Diagon Alley, and they have this great shop that sold things about Dragons! Dad bought me a miniature of the Romanian Longhorn, and it's alive! Not alive like a real dragon though, I mean that it can move and breathe small fire, probably not as awesome as seeing a real dragon, but still! And I got you a miniature of the Hungarian Horntail! It's really scary even in miniature, people said it's one the biggest and most dangerous breed of dragon! There are also a couple of interesting bookstores here. I got several books myself, one of them was a lore about vampires!

We also visited the Romanian Ministry of Magic itself! It's definitely not as big as the British Ministry but it's so different. And I saw vampires, here! Dad said that vampires in Romania are a bit more common here rather than Britain, said something prejudice or something similar. I'm not afraid though, one of the vampires even worked in the ministry! And they didn't look that much different from normal people.

We had also visited mom's cousin here. I had also met a second cousin of mine, her name is Andrea, and I don't like her! She's so arrogant and snobbish! She kept pestering me around! Thankfully, we didn't stay long there, I don't think Dad liked it much either.

And how about you? Any impromptu summer trips or vacations? If not, then I'm sure you're spending most of your time nose-deep in books! You're getting too much reading for your own good. And don't tell me you're turning into a Ravenclaw even more, we're supposed to be in Hufflepuff together, remember?

And how about your parents? Are they okay? And little Ernie too, how's he doing? He's a really adorable kid! I still wish for a brother sometimes, but the healers at St. Mungo's had said that it's too dangerous for mom.

I am currently staying at one of the local innes, it's located in the countryside, and the view is really cool! I won't bother you with too much details since I'm having all the fun here, hehe! By the way, I used one of the owls available at the inn so you won't recognize it, indeed.

I'll probably be back in 3 days or so. Dad said that we had to take a small visit to Scotland, first, don't know why, he won't tell me yet. And you will not believe this but dad promised that he'll let me go to my first quidditch match! Ain't that awesome! You should come too, and we can watch it together! I don't know about the details yet but I expect it will be during the summer! I'll see you soon!

Cedric

P.S. I also got you another gift, but it's a secret! So, wait for it, okay?

Dragon reserve in Romania, huh? Is it the same sanctuary that Charlie Weasley ended up working in the future? After finishing reading the letter, I set it aside and put it on the desk next to me. Now that I think about it, it was kinda boring around here. Being a rich pureblood didn't guarantee a life full of trips or vacations, in fact, my parents rarely took me on their visits or business trips.

Cedric and I had been exchanging letters for two years ever since we met during my visit to the ministry. Sure, we had a couple of floo calls sometimes, and he had visited me a couple of times, and vice versa, too! He was a nice kid, definitely all the traits and hufflepuff's nature rolled into one.

My parents were also happy seeing me opening up and befriending someone my age, especially my father, since he was also a good friend with Cedric's father. Surprisingly, befriending another child wasn't as annoying as I had expected it to be, then again, Cedric certainly wasn't most children, either. He had also told me about the Weasley twins. Apparently, since they lived in the same area, Fred and George had been his only friends growin up, though he did express his annoyment at their constant antics and pranks.

I had tried my best to not show an over interest on my face when he's talking about the Weasleys, and it's working. Purebloods, after all, were trained in perfect mannerisms, and masking one's expression was also a part of it. I actually haven't met any of the Weasleys at all though, only stories from Cedric. The Weasleys weren't really part of any purebloods circle, so there hadn't been any reasons for any kind of interactions.

Cedric was smart, as I had expected. He could keep up with me, and he was a nice person to discuss the materials and theories from books. It seemed like he was interested in Transfiguration, and if I did remember correctly, he did use transfiguration for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament against the dragon, he transfigured a rock into a dog to distract the dragon, I think. And speaking of study and theory, I have made some pretty big progress the past two years.

I had expanded my spell repertoire to include the Unlocking Charm (Alohomora), the General Counter-Spell (Finite and Finite Incantatem),the Disarming Charm (Expelliarmus), the Wand Extinguishing Charm (Nox), the Jelly-Legs Jinx (Locomotor Wibbly), the Knockback Jinx (Flipendo), and the Leg-Locker Curse (Locomotor Mortis). It certainly was impressive for Pre-Hogwarts children, but I'd still be dead in a second against any adults.

Learning the Expelliarmus was a very interesting experience, a bit surreal, after all, it was Harry Potter's signature and favourite spell. I had managed to get it after around a week of trying a year ago, but it was a far cry from its maximum ability since I had still only barely managed to do it yet. My parents didn't get me a tutor, at least, not yet, but they had offered their help every once in a while. And I'm satisfied with that. Eight spells for an 8-year-old is definitely far from bad. Cedric too hard learned several spells, I had taught him the Lumos charm though it took him around a month to finally get the hang of it. His parents didn't really encourage him to try much until he got his wand, so he had only mastered Lumos, Nox, and Finite only, three-spells, but all of them were wandless. And regarding wandless casting, not all of the spells I mentioned above I could cast wandlessly, I needed to borrow my father's wand (since I didn't sync well with my mother's) to cast the Locomotor Wibbly, Flipendo, and Locomotor Mortis. Partially it's because of the complexity, the other spells I had mastered focused on simple tasks, creating a light, extinguishing it, unlocking something, and disarming. The three spells above meanwhile, were much more complicated, for examples, the leg-locker curse and the jelly-legs jinx required the partial transfiguration of the target's legs themself, while my focus using wandless magic was still not enough and far from capable of directing and conducting my magic for something so tricky.

Now, I was an 8-year-old, and I had been living this second life of mine for nearly four years. Getting another chance at childhood was both a blessing and curse, especially the fact that I am in a world that was previously nothing but fiction, a world of magic, a world of invisible horses, flying broomsticks, and magical fireplaces. Slowly, I had begun to think of the manor as my new home, of Gerald and Elizabeth as my parents, and little Ernie as a brother, and MImi too, is a family.

When I arrived in this world, I had a lot of ideas. I had thought of learning magic as fast as possible, driving my life into a whole dedication of learning and studying, or to do anything to gain power. But now, now I felt quite content with my pace. I am already ahead of my future peers for Hogwarts, I have a great family, who I've embraced wholly, I have a friend, and I have luxury. Back in the homeworld, when reading fanfictions of stories just like the one I'm in right now, I had always disliked a main character who acted cold and self-centered, who dedicated their life to nothing but a drive for power, quest of survival. Perhaps it's just the Hufflepuff in me though, for when I took the test on the Pottermore website, I was indeed sorted into the House of Hufflepuff, and I took it several times just because I was bored, and I still got mostly Hufflepuff from all the tests. As a kid who had grown up an orphan, I had always desired real family, a real house, or a real home. And because of that, I'd grown attached to this new life of mine.

Becoming 8-year-old may seem irrelevant, and that even if two years had passed, it made little difference for me since I was still in my childhood. I didn't know whether to dread or welcome the thought of growing up more and going into Hogwarts. Sure, every child had dreamed of going into Hogwarts once, and now that the prospect was more real than ever, worry and fear couldn't help but worm their way into my thoughts. Going into Hogwarts meant that I'd be stepping out of my comfort zone. I had been content and at ease until now, for I spent most of my time at the manor, I was growing up pretty sheltered and reclusive. The other houses and families mostly assumed that this was the effect of my affliction from the war, and it wasn't that far from the truth, my parents were indeed still unsure about letting me be too independent, I couldn't really blame them now, could I?

So, yeah. Two years, for two years I had delved deeper into magic, studying even if mostly theories, about the nature and basics of magic itself. I had wondered about the system of the working of magic. Was it like chakra as depicted in the Naruto universe? From what was explained about Squib, and from what I had gathered and read from the books I had taken from the library, a Squib is a wizard-born person without the ability to use magic, but a squib is not quite a muggle either, for squib still could have an affinity toward magical creatures, and there's a fact they could also see things only reserved for the magicals, such as Dementors as Mrs. Figg had in the Harry Potter book and film. And so with some theories and explanations, I had concluded that a squib is born with magic, if only severely weaker than wizards and witches, but, the key difference is the fact that a squib couldn't access their magic, their reserve was inaccessible for them, and thus they couldn't use magic, not directly, at least.

The more theories and books that I read, the more I was convinced that the working of magic in this world wasn't too complicated and the concept wasn't foreign to me. In essence, everyone is born with magic, muggles obviously, had been born with magic so low that the little difference of magic they had ended up becoming irrelevant. For wizards and witches, they were born with magic reserves capable of actually channeling said magic through their, and by extension, through their wands. This magic reserve as I had learned before, would expand in time alongside the growth of the owner. As far as I know, there aren't some sort of specific magic pathways in a wizard's body, unlike the system of the chakra in Naruto, or maybe it's just the fact that they had an all-seeing x-ray eyes there.

During these two years, I had also begun to lay out the grounds for my future experiments and trials. There are several fields that I was interested to try, some of them are spatial magic, sound magic, and illusion magic. I first noticed about the spatial magic through the existence of the extension charm. A small bag could be made bottomless to store an entire family fortune, and a simple tent could house an entire family. And so the questions popped up, if such spell like the Extension Charm was considered common, then how come spatial magic hadn't been utilized more? Could it be reversed, could the space be compressed, instead? And if yes, then could it potentially distort things? Would the parts of the decreased space just ended up relocated, or would it perish in the pressure of the decompression? And then illusion, could I replicate the effects of Genjutsu from Naruto, then? I knew that spells to disillusion yourself existed here, so light manipulation is definitely possible. What is the extent of the created mirage? And sound, too. It seemed the most basic and least dangerous compared to the others, but I had several ideas too, one of the examples is whether it would be possible or not to channel my magic through sound? Magic travelled through air, so shouldn't it be feasible to manipulate sound and transmit intents through it?

Of course, the potency of a person's magic is always different and unique compared to the others. Some had magic denser than others, and some had their magic easier to manipulate and mold than others. The uniqueness of one's magic is what decides their affinity in the many subjects and paths of the Wizarding World. Like the main character, Harry Potter who was talented in DADA, or Neville Longbottom with Herbology,

For example, some families had their own traits and inheritance of abilities particular to them. The best case for this is the Black family, notorious for their curses and dark-arts, and their talent as Metamorphmagus, even if the talent was lost, and the only wielder of said ability is a half-blood descended from a daughter of House Black. My family, The Macmillan themself didn't have a particular or specific enough talent, but my father did say that a Macmillan would have an affinity and talent toward dueling. I had recalled that during the event of the Chamber of Secrets, Ernie did say that his family was descended from nine generations of witches and warlocks. By the way, warlock was a title bestowed to either someone commanding great respect and honor for either the strongest in raw magical power, from strength, or from the more subtle prowess of power displayed theoretically. Because of this, my goal of becoming a duelist had suddenly seemed easier and closer than before. Also, speaking of inheritance and legacy, I was surprised that my family originated from Scotland!

I wasn't a British in my previous life, so I didn't know much about Scottish, irish, or the different races of the United Kingdom. But Scottish accent was supposed to be easily noticeable, right? Minerva McGonagall was Scottish, and her accent told you as clearly as a day of her heritage. But my father? No, he didn't sound Scottish at all. Perhaps it's the hundred of years of marrying outside the family and intermingling with the other purebloods that our Scottish heritage ended up getting triumphed by the more common English blood and traits. My mother's family, the Abbott was a traditional English family so that likely helped too in further shaping and affecting myself.

With those thoughts out of the way, I took a sheet of paper from one the drawer on my desk. I took a quill and a bottle of ink, of which I had learned painstakingly over the years,

"You're holding it wrong, Darius!"

"Yes, mother,"

or "Your handwriting is sloppy, your hands need to be more stern!"

"Yes, mother,"

and "You have the angle wrong, you're supposed to have it a bit more inclined."

"Yes, mother."

Thankfully, I had managed to master the art of ink and quill after a few months of tortur-rigorous training from my mother. And so I dipped the feather-quill into the pot of ink. I shook the quill several times before I began writing.

Dear Cedric,

Your holiday in Romania sounds really awesome! I really wish that I could be there too. And dragons! I mean, who doesn't love dragons, right?

…...

Also, speaking of training, penmanship wasn't the only subject I had been forced to learn, or relearn. I was also taught how to dance. Yep, dancing. Evidently, your dancing skill says a lot about yourself, and in this case, about your hose. The memory of Professor McGonagall saying "Babbling Bumbling Band of Baboons" came to mind. It wasn't as humiliating as I would imagine it to be, though. And my dancing skill, however flimsy it was in my past life, seemed a bit, no, much better here. I just chalked it off as the effect of a new and different body. And I was also open to the idea of being a great dancer, after all, I would need every bodyskill I could have, and the dancing would also help with my dodging and footwork, I supposed.

I had been meaning for quite some time to ask my father and my mother about the possibility of getting a tutor. From the fanfictions I had read in my previous life, it had seemed that tutoring was a common thing in growing up a pureblood.

It was now the 5th of July of 1986, Ernie's birthday was just last week, which we celebrated just by having a small dinner where we invited Uncle Henry and Uncle Daven's family. It was always like that for birthdays in the family, we just celebrate it simply, just an event of close family with well-wishes and gifts. I, for one, was glad for it, no extravagant or bothersome birthday party which would've had me pampered around and forced to act all formal and pure. Anyway, the summer was still going strong, and my ninth birthday itself won't be until the 19th of October. And I'd be going into Hogwarts on exactly the 1st of September, 1989. My Hogwarts letter won't arrive until two years and there would be another 11 months before I'd be on a train to Hogsmeade. So I had three years before I'd be plunged into a magical castle filled with secrets, surrounded by a forest harboring centaurs and wild magical creatures.

I was standing outside my father's solar, or perhaps his study.

I knocked at the door twice.

"Come in." a voice could be heard from the inside.

I pulled my head back as I took a long calming breath and resigned myself. I took hold of the doorknob and proceeded to open the door. I walked in, my steps a bit slow but sure.

The room had brown walls. A large window could be seen at the center of them. Right of the window, perpendicular to it, was a large desk with some stack of papers. Behind the desk was a chair, not too much in its design, but it did well in its job of conveying power and simplicity. Further behind the table was a series of hanging shelves on the wall. The shelves were filled with books, all lined up neatly and looking presentable. To the left of the window though, was a slightly more informal set of furniture, there was a small rounded table, a wooden chair, a single-seat sofa chair, and several portraits hanging on the wall.

On the topic of portraits, I had encountered several portraits of my ancestors these past years. Sure, they weren't as rowdy or as stirring as the portraits of headmasters in the Hogwarts Headmaster Office. Nor was any of them a Walburga Black from the book Order of the Phoenix. Most of them were keeping to themselves, either gossiping around as they travelled through between frames, and muttering slightly under their breath, possibly talking about us current residents of the manor. I had met my grandfather's portrait one day when I was exploring the hallways of the manor. It had a shiny plaque underneath it with the words EDWARD I MACMILLAN written on it in gold. I was unsure of what to think of at the time, so I had settled to just introduce myself as his grandson, to which he just responded with a narrowing of his eyes before looking at me in a curious manner, gazing from my feet to the top as if he was scanning me. Finally he resolved himself with a huff of breath and just muttered "You'll do, boy."

"Darius? You didn't do anything again, did you?" said my father as he opened the conversation.

"What? No, of course not! Mimi must be lying!" denied myself quickly,

"And what brought you here, then?" he replied.

"It's just that I'm wondering that…"

My father raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, gesturing for me to continue with the explanation.

"I was wondering if you would consider the matter of tutoring for me, that is. I know that I've been making progress, but I can always improve myself, I promise!" I said as I lowered my head in a nod at the end part.

"A tutoring? Well, your mother and I did speak about it several times. Are you sure this is really what you want?"

"I'm sure, father. I believe that I should always strive for the better and that even if most would deem my skill good for my age, there will be no harm in increasing those skills." I answered.

My father stayed silent for a couple of seconds.

"You realize that you will have to take it seriously, don't you? I won't have you shaming our house should you decide to display any foolish actions during the tutoring, understand?"

I didn't shy away from his stare. "I do, father. And I am very serious about it."

"Good, I was just testing your resolve. Your grandfather did arrange a tutoring for me too, but it's only for a couple of months before I went to Hogwarts. I admit it, it did help a lot. But, I will have you start your tutoring only after you turned nine. Too much seriousness won't do you any good, Darius." said my father as his posture went noticeably more relaxed in his chair.

"If that's what you decide for me, then I have no problem with that, father." I said.

"Very well, I will speak to your mother about the details. I know that you're special, from the day you woke up, I just knew back then, that you will be great. I want you to know that, son. But, you won't be overextending yourself, understand?"

"Yes, father. Thank you."

"Sigh, when I was your age, I was totally different from you now, I didn't care much about learning or reading. And I didn't train myself with those daily exercises of yours. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were planning something with all these." finished my father in a small smile.

My heart nearly skipped a bear over the last part, but I managed to retain my stature. I didn't know what to reply and so I just stayed silent as my father seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"And don't forget about whatever it is that you supposedly didn't do! You won't want me to tell your mother, will you? And Mimi didn't tell me anything." said my father in a stern manner, but his voice turned into a tease as he finished his sentence.

"I-i, thank you again, father."

"Alright, you may leave. I need to sort out some of these papers."

I nodded and turned back as I scurried away out of the room.

It had been a week after my talk with my father about a possible tutoring. My father had announced to me that he and my mother had agreed to arrange one for me during dinner the day. I was really grateful, now I just need to hope that my tutors won't suck.

The Diggories had visited just yesterday, returning from their two-weeks long holiday to Romania. As he had written, Cedric had gifted me a miniature Hungarian Horntail, the same breed of dragon that Harry Potter ended up facing in the Goblet of Fire. And he did fulfill his promise of getting me a second gift.

"You'll like this, I'm sure."

"What is it?"

Cedric took a book out of his bag. It was red in colour, and I couldn't help but notice the swirling flames of white that graced its cover and back. It was titled The Art of Spell-Creation by Georg Anderkov.

"It's a book on spell-creation! You remember the first time we met and you said that you were interested in becoming a spellmaker, don't you? Well, I was confused about what book to give you since you had read so many books. But a book on spell-creation is rare, right? You said it yourself. And so I asked the storekeeper and he gave me this book. He said that the author is really famous there as an inventor!"

"Whoa, this is definitely a great gift, thank you, Cedric."

"It's fine. I'm glad you like it."

They didn't stay for too long, only for about two or three hours, during which time he had told further about his holiday, actually, I didn't care that much about the details, but I won't be a good friend if I at least didn't fake it. I had also told Cedric about the arrangement of a tutoring for me. We went on a little discussions on the possible extent and topics that could be covered in the tutoring. He had also expressed the interest of having a tutor for himself, too, but it was between him and his family, not my business anyway.

And so I was currently reading said book that Cedric had given me.

The Art of Spell Creation by Georg Anderkov

It was probably a translated version of the original, for the author was a Romanian himself, and magic had allowed for the breaking of the barrier that was language in literature. So far, it had raised some interesting points.

Every spellmaker has their own stories and ways of birthing a spell. Some spells were born of accident, a spontaneous course of events, a spur of moment, and a subconscious reflex of their own magic. Some were carefully crafted, slowly went through many trials and errors until it reached a perfection of its own.

...

The art of spell-creation is a subject less ventured. For it required an even greater mind than the noble art of brewing potions that, or the daring ways of a duelist. To create a spell, a wizard must understand his own mind first and foremost. Only after gaining such clarity and serenity of his own, could a spellcrafter truly bring his imagination to live.

...

Arithmancy, the way of numbers, is one such option and if mastered well and utilized correctly, a very dear friend for a spellmaker. With the right application, arithmancy could be the key to answer the questions of every step in the process of creating a spell. The calculation of numbers may very well divine the possible outcome and chances of different methods to bind a spell

...

Some creators opt to use runes instead in their venture. The power behind the carved runes of ancient may very well be the right door to channel and bridge the intent and the outcome. And with a precise formula of runes array, the many steps to a spell could be simplified and shortened, as it turned ripe and ready to be bound to words.

The author had explained that spell-creation is basically very flexible. There are a lot of leeways and loose parts for the creator to insert their own methods and ways of creating their spells. So trials and errors, then. After reading it further for a few more minutes, I closed it and set it aside, feeling enough headaches coming already for the portion of the day.

I grabbed a pentagon-shaped box from one of the drawers on my desk, it was a chocolate frog box. I had sampled a few of the famous magical sweets and foods, the Chocolate Frog, is among them. Some of them are quite normal, like the Fizzing Whizzbees, they were essentially magical pop rocks that allowed you to float a bit for a moment or two, yeah not my favourite. I also had a dislike for Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Yeah I got dirty sock, onion, and rotten egg flavours in a row when I first tasted it, and thus I swore to myself to never try any of them ever again.

As I opened the box, something jumped out of it and landed on my desk, a magical chocolate frog. Honestly it's kinda weird to eat something after you had seen them move just a few seconds earlier. I didn't collect the card like Ronald Weasley did in canon or like most other magical children, I was never the type of person with a hobby to collect or gather things. But I did save the few cards that I thought were interesting. I took hold of the card to examine it. It had a picture of a man in what seemed like his middle age, he had golden hair that reached his shoulder, golden eyes, with definite sharp features for his face.

MAGNUM REGALUS

1347-1389

Applauded widely by magic historians and experts around the world to be the revolutioner of elemental magic, Magnum Regalus is famously known for his mastery of the nature elements, especially of the element of lightning. He was considered the strongest wizard of the Late Middle Ages. He was said to be undefeatable in combat, and to never be bested by any opponent in a duel. He was poisoned to death by his own brother, who was jealous of his achievements.

Heh, did they just put kinslaying on the back of a children sweets card? Elemental magic, huh. There weren't a lot of particular wizards or witches renowned for their mastery of elemental magic, and most were only known to develop said masteryl only as a side-skill. I had pondered upon the idea of branching out to study elemental in time, and it was a promising prospect should I ever manage to actually learn it, but a daunting task nonetheless. I shrugged and put the card alongside several other cards with interesting tidbits that I had saved on a box stashed away in my drawer.

*Pop*

I immediately sat up from where I was laying down on my bed to see Mimi appearing on my bedside.

"Master Gerald be wanting to speak with you in his room, young master Dary…" she informed me.

I ignored the nickname she had so graciously bestowed on me,

"Mimi, please don't call me Dary."

"But, Dary a sweet name for a sweet master just like young master!"

I groaned, "Mimi, please just don't, I don't like it."

"Mimi will try, master Dary."

At the end, it didn't work, and I just rolled along with it.

"Now?" I asked, confused on why my father would summon me.

"Yes, young master."

Soon, I stepped out of the bed and began walking toward my father's study. I reached it, knocked once. and entered the room as I took a seat in front of his desk.

"So, you must be wondering why I called you, right?" he asked.

"The thought had crossed my mind, father." I answered.

"We have found a suitable arrangement for your tutoring. You still won't start until after your birthday, but I'll tell you about the details now."

I stayed silent, motioning for him to continue as my gaze went curious.

"You will be studying under Ackley Walker, he went to Hogwarts together with me, we were housemates. We maintained a good relationship after we graduated, we still have occasional contacts every once in a while. And I think he'll be good for you, he was always the studious type, very much so for a Hufflepuff, so the two of you should be fine with each other."

"He sounds like a great man, father." I replied.

Walker, isn't that a muggle surname? A muggle-born, perhaps? or half-blood? I was quite surprised by it, but then again, father never really cared much about the strictly purebloods rule, although marriage would perhaps be a different matter.

"He is. He is due for a trip abroad next month and won't be back until the time of your tutoring is near. Because of this, he will visit around next week, and so the two of you could begin to know each other."

I nodded.

"There's one more matter I'd like to speak with you."

"What is it, father?"

"Come, follow me." he stood up out of his chair and began walking out of the room.

We travelled through several hallways, taking several turns on the corner, and went through several stairs. Soon, we arrived on a wall with a large portrait stationed on it, the wall was the one next to the entry of the library. The portrait itself wasn't one of a person, instead it was a painting of an eagle perched on a branch of a dead tree.

"The door swings both ways." said my father

The eagle's eyes lighted up for a second as the portrait swung back to reveal an opening. A secret pathway, cool!

My father entered first and then I followed him in.

"Don't touch anything." he said.

It was a damp room with minimal lightning before my father took his wand out and gave a swishing motion on the air. The room instantly went bright as fires sparked from the handles at the wall.

"What is this room, father?" I asked.

"This is where our family stores some of our precious treasures and things. But it's not what we're here for, today. This is also a place where we keep the legacy of our exalted ancestors. It could be their inventions or just their wand. We don't keep our ancestors' wand in the Gringotts as most would do, instead we keep it here, close to their bloods."

"Woah…" I just trailed off as I observed how ancient the room looked. We had passed through several different doors. My father had every once in a while used his wand, probably disabling the traps or safeguards for us to walk through.

"Now, you will try the wands of our ancestors to see if one of them matches you. I, myself, didn't match with any of them and so I got my wand from the Ollivanders." he said as he unlocked another door with a swing of wand.

It was revealed to be a medium-sized room with wooden tables. The tables were lined up from the lowest to the highest, creating a look of gradual steps. On each of the tables was a series of handles, each holding a different wand. Underneath every handle was a small plaque detailing the original owner and the details of the wand itself.

"There are about 30 wands in this room, we don't keep every wand of our ancestors, only the best of them. Now, go on and try." he said as he motioned for me to take a step forward.

Aldrin Macmillan. Ash wood with a Phoenix feather core, 14 ", and hard flexibility.

I took a hold of it and felt nothing, it was as cold as a dead fish.

I looked questioningly at my father, to which he said "Try the next one."

Isla Macmillan. Applewood with a Wampus Cat hair core, 13 ", and unyielding.

Once more, I grabbed the wand and I gave it a swing or two. The reaction was slightly better this time, for I felt a jolt running through my right hand but just that. Soon, I tried another wand.

Ludan Macmillan. Oak wood with a Unicorn tail hair, 12", and pleasantly springy.

This time the wand nearly blew up on my hand as I was forced back and stumbled upon my own feet.

"Definitely not that one." said my father amused.

And so it went on and on again, one wand after another, then another one, and another, until finally!

Renar Macmillan, Hornbeam wood with a Thunderbird tail feather, 14 ", and pliable.

W-wait a second! The name! It was a wand that belonged to the book that had been my guide for these years.

Slowly, I took the wand out of the handle, and at that moment, I knew it. In an instant, I could recall the feeling I felt on my first time casting a spell, my first Lumos, my body went into a trance-like condition, my mind and thought suddenly became clearer than ever. A spark of golden aura flew out of the tip of the wand. It fluttered around, dancing in the air as it swirled around me. It was like a fountain, for a continuous jet of golden sparks kept shooting through the end of it. The air was different with magic, strong, melodious magic that filled the area. Energy surged through my whole body, and at that moment, I felt as if I could do anything I want in the world, and ain't that a scary thought?

My father's jaw was dropped, hanging from his mouth, and so did mine. We just couldn't help but marvel at the situation before us, for it was definitely not something common, and I knew that even Harry getting his wand in the Philosopher's Stone wasn't as dramatic as this. This looked like something straight out of a fairy tale! Like the legend that was King Arthur and the Sword of Excalibur!

"That's… Whoa." trailed my father off.

"I knew, right?" I answered, weakly, my voice shaky from the experience.

"Well, it was definitely a match, then." said my father as he looked at me.

We shared a quick laugh over the drastic simplification of the occurrence.

"Wait, what's that?" asked my father as he turned his gaze toward the plaque beneath the handle of the wand. It shone. And as if something was scribbled into it, a writing was revealed in golden bright light.

Thunderbirds are the harbinger of storms, for their flaps of wings could conjure hurricanes and create storms in their fly. And much like its core, this wand is also a harbinger of storms. A storm born from tenacity and perseverance, for the hornbeam wood that is its vessel, is a wood that is its master's true companion. Passion and determination, the hornbeam wood basks and soaks amidst the both of them, and it will see its visionary through that passion and determination. An unwaveringly loyal companion, hornbeam would suit itself to its owner in every possible way.

"How could it be possible? Is it written just now, or what?" I mused out loud after I finished reading the unraveled text.

"It is possible that it would only reveal when it meets a new owner, since nothing like this happened when I was trying the wands. This is a magic room, I have no doubt that I possess a certain degree of sentience, and perhaps what happened was just that."

"This is so amazing." I couldn't help but say. I observed the wand that was still in my hand, its effects had disappeared as soon as I regained focus. It was light in colour, incredibly pale for a wood. The handle was adjourned with circular engravings around it, and was noticeably darker then the rest of the wand. Following the handle, the wood splintered as it branched into two identical two branches wrapped themself around each other, creating a pattern of a double helix, twisting around until it merged back for the tip. The tip was slightly crooked, but other than that, the wand was in a perfect, symmetrical shape. It was a fascinating design, and I admired it so much.

"I supposed our purpose here is now done. Let's go, Darius." said my father as he muttered some spells to clean the room in an instant. He had also conjured a box for me to keep the wand.

"Yes, father."

And with that, we left the room.

As father had promised, today was the visit of my soon-to-be tutor. We were standing in the living room, dressed in semi formal clothes. My father was at the far left, next to him was my mother, followed by myself, and then Ernie.

The fireplace flashed green and then the man we'd been waiting for the last couple of minutes finally arrived. He was a tall man, black hair, black eyes, and truthfully, he was an ordinary looking guy, no striking feature or interesting detail.

"Gerald! How long has it been?" the man said as he shook my father's outstretched hand.

"Too long, Ackley, too long! Now, you remember my wife, the Lady Elizabeth. And these are my sons, Darius, and Ernie. Darius is the older, and he is the one you will be tutoring. You two are so alike in your obsessions with books!" my father said happily.

I smiled and stepped forward, ready to greet the man that would help shape my future as a wizard.

AN: Whew, pre-Hogwarts is taking far more words than I had imagined. I was planning for around 20k words but it seemed that it would be around 30k instead. And the next chapter will conclude the childhood arc. Thoughts and recommendations? Reviews would be awesome though! Please tell me what you like and what you dislike so far so that I could improve the story better. Some requests are also welcomed. To be honest, I don't have a solid image for every sub-plots yet, so I kinda just wing it every chapter. But I'll try my best.