Many thanks to lubabpaul for the beta-ing!
1988-01 September
I reached the platform 9 and 3/4 without issues and with time to spare.
Once I settled down in an empty compartment, I unsheathed my wand, still enraptured by the feeling of being complete that it gave me. Since my birthday in December, I had spent each day doing exactly two things: trying to understand how to make things happen with magic channeled through the [my?] wand, and reading ahead in preparation for my first steps in the world of Harry Potter. Each one of the books I purchased was interesting and challenging in its own way. Even if the one on dueling was a bit useless if not for the notes scribbled on the margins, (really, a whole chapter to explain that the best way to react to a spell is almost always dodging? what a waste of paper). The suggestions, however, presented well-tried spell chains, so I couldn't really complain.
The real surprise had been alchemy, which is basically chemistry on steroids with superpowers. Now that, was not something I had ever read about in either canon or fanfics. The critical part was that knowing about protons, neutrons, and more, only helped to understand the theory behind the processes explained in the book. I quickly understood why it was that not everyone and their mother were alchemists. That shit was hard. Everyone knows and understands that matter is either in a solid, liquid, or gas state of aggregation. Each had very definite and understandable properties. However, The point in which someone passes from knowing about alchemy and performing it is the critical and nebulous one. Because it's not just your mind that has to understand alchemy in order to perform it, oh no (that would be too easy), it's both your mind and your magic understanding and working in concert to coerce a transmutation into the world.
The book came to a conclusion with some guided exercises about vaporizing water through heat or pressure variations. I had tried them in April. With the wand, I managed to infuse heat into the glass of water without too many snags, but when I tried the change of pressure variation, the glass shattered, and the water turned to snow. After that, I chose to leave it alone for a while. I couldn't manage to make it work wandless.
The other books all kept the promises given by their titles, and I basically already self-studied through the end of the first year's curriculum That is, at least on the theoretical side.
Managing to use my wand required a bit of an effort: until the end of April, she kept zapping me more often than not, every time I tried to channel magic through her. And yes, referring to my wand as a she was strange as fuck, but I noticed that the more I considered it as a living being, the less contempt she holds toward me. My wand was a complex one, and Ollivander could have at least attempted to explain what the bloody fuck I was getting myself into.
With a sigh, I took off my shoe and put it on the seat in front of me. Slowly, since I didn't want to ruffle the thunderbird part of my wand for something so inane as a levitation charm I could perform endlessly, I swished and flicked, uttering "Wingardium Leviosa." And with a whisper of something running through me, the shoe rose steadily into the air. It didn't even attempt to kick up a fuss. But after all, it was my shoe, so maybe it was already attuned to my wishes? Magic sometimes didn't have well-defined rules, and it made sense, because it was, in fact, magic. And if it could be exactly described in numbers and equations this second life would have been a letdown.
I sighed a bit. While I could perform almost all of the first year syllabus, I still had no solid ideas that could explain why. Why the hell some gibberish in an approximation of proper Latin would be magic words? Why an apparently random movement of my arm and wrist channeled magic just in the specific way would exact my will on reality?
I let my confusion briefly disrupt my focus, and the shoe fell with a twirl in the air. I looked at my wand with an arched eyebrow and a spark shot forward from the tip of the ancient wood. And it felt like… smug amusement?
Temperamental indeed. I thought.
The first time I held the wand, she tested me, almost rupturing my heart. Ever since then she outright ignored my will or twisted my magic just to spite me. It took a month of daily attempts of entering in synch with her for the first positive interaction to arise. And the wand felt like a she. It somehow made sense, since both the demiguise and the thunderbird that the wand was comprised of were females I had to be respectful, careful to not spook her, and that slowly made the demiguise part of the wand used to me and the feeling of my magic. Whatever magic actually is. My perseverance turned the open disinterest of the wood into quiet acceptance, and I believe those two components of the wand somehow convinced the thunderbird side to accept me.
More than a tool, it was like the wand wanted to be understood by me, by my magic. But it was also almost like the wand attempted to understand me as well. And now I sound like a strange cross between Ollivander and Castaneda. "A bit batty, uh?" I murmured.
The more I grew used to the wand, the more readily it seemed to answer to my will, even if it never gave off a feeling of enthusiasm. I blame its thunderbird side for that. Thus, ever since April the trouble was no longer about proving myself as worthy of the wand, but convincing her that the spell I was trying to perform through her was worthy of her contribution In short, my wand wanted to be cherished, and if I was not absolutely certain of my actions, she would either ignore or outright oppose me.
At least the legal limbo in which I had been until I landed on the train let me practice without the ministry breathing down my neck. And if nothing else, this behavior solved my loneliness problem. I reflected again, feeling the wand warming in my hand. Because obviously being twenty-ish among toddlers had been an agony even with my powers to explore on the side. Still, being now thirty-ish among eleven years old could be arguably worse. But hey, I had magic and a sentient wand, so it would be tolerable.
McGonagall had been surprisingly entertained by Fahrenheit 451, and thankful for the muggle glossary I had written on the side of the pages. I gained several tips for transfiguration and a lot of suggestions about stuff that muggle-born would never think about. Maybe I could ensnare Flitwick in the same way.
Now recapping the steps and rules for the Great Plan to Live Long and Happy:
1) Stay away from all the Harry Potter stuff
2) Become so kickass that Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the ministry would only wish to leave me alone
3) Find a peaceful way for immortality
This translated in the short term with something like absolutely abusing the Room of Requirement for:
1) Learning occlumency
2) Crushing every academic record and abuse a time turner from my third year onward
3) Completely comprehending this wandless magic (a wandless Patronus is a must)
4) Stealing all the stuff in the room of the Room of Requirement
5) Learning actually useful magic, like expansion charms and wards
All this while having fun on the side. Because, what's the point of living twice if you don't enjoy your second chance?
My sorting had been smooth, and I ended up in Ravenclaw, because the other houses only develop pussy-footers, suicidal heroes, and sociopathic people. In this house, a loner great at magic would be left alone, and that was wonderful. Even if the hat didn't like the idea of being part of an imaginary world.
I found the Room of Requirement after my first week.
I need the best place where I can learn occlumency
I need the best place where I can learn occlumency
I need the best place where I can learn occlumency
There, I found a cozy room with a tea table on which rested three books and an armchair. Awesome I sat down and started reading.
To my great dismay, I learned that occlumency was illegal unless you were a cleared member of the ministry: someone high ranking enough, like an auror or an unspeakable. The government didn't seem to like the idea that commoners could keep secrets from the ones leading them. The law was from 1789, and if I were to find a plausible cause for it, I would say the French Revolution. It made a lot of sense.
I also soon learned that I wouldn't be able to build an impenetrable fortress in my head with impossible defenses, because an occlumens was a wizard, or a witch, that could do stuff while being in a certain state of mind. Meaning that an occlumens was someone who wasn't thinking about anything, or that was so supremely focused on something that he didn't think about anything else. That was some difficult shit. While apparently in contrast and opposites, both styles should be developed together, because doing so makes someone used to the shift in focus necessary to handle an occlumens's state of mind in the day to day life. It kind of reminded me about the mind magic style in the Inheritance Cycle book trilogy by Paolini. But it made some kind of sense, and it wasn't like I would find a proper teacher anytime soon, so I didn't exactly have a choice. A single universal method for developing occlumency did not exist, since every mind is different and should develop its tailored brand of mind arts.
Soon enough, I developed a sound routine which allowed me to cover all the points of my plan.
After waking up I read for a while a random book from the library, writing down on my personal Great Parchment of The Interesting Things, spells or new topics of research. After breakfast and the morning lessons I attended lunch, while trying to isolate a single voice from the chaos around me, and at the same time ignore all the others. Or trying to memorize every detail of my half-full dish, taking a bite, and trying to superimpose my memory to the now different reality. That was a way to sharpen my focus while remaining aware of the world around me. It should also be possible to adopt the mindless repetition of lyrics of any kind, but it didn't work out for me. Music was far too distracting and captivating, it would summon emotions, images, and the like, as such, it didn't work for me. Eating while performing said exercises helped develop my ability to multitask, and the point was exactly that: doing something without really thinking about it while you were focused on something else or nothing at all.
I attended my afternoon's lessons, and then went to the Library to research this and that. After a fast dinner I went to the RoR to experiment with wandless magic, and with dueling every other day. The fact that for every two hours spent in that room only one passed outside was a wonderful boon. Since I didn't want to reveal the existence of that fantastic place to anyone, I asked every time for a different exit, and I usually got lost every three days.
After the first month of almost religious practice, occlumency somehow clicked, and I knew when I was doing it right. I started then to practice the doing without thinking part of it every time I could. Trying to picture my consciousness as a circular pool of crystal clear water, I started walking from a [one] class to the next while being in that elusive perfect state of complete and relaxed awareness. Performing it while sitting still in a lotus position in a silent room is very different from performing it while walking around. Either my Zen vision of the world kept failing, or I started finding myself hyperaware of the feeling of my arms that brushing against my sleeves, or emerging from my absent-minded state only to find myself standing still in front of a wall, or a closed door.
My getting lost soon became a running gag for most of my house.
My little classmates, bless their little greedy hearts, were kind enough to steer me in the right direction more often than not, since my presence of mind returned for every lesson and I gained more points with my academic performance than the ones I usually lost being around after curfew because I didn't realize I was roaming the castle.
Besides, my wand would have backfired if I ever attempted to use her without giving it my all. The prefects started to recognize me and docked only one or two points, because they knew I wasn't doing it on purpose, and they would find me roaming after a few days. My absent-mindedness became famous when McGonagall threatened to transfigure me into a clock because I arrived late to her lesson and I asked her to be turned into a pocket watch because I didn't like the idea of being a longcase grandfather clock.
If I wasn't absolutely terrific at magic, I would probably have assumed the Looney title. The next step, once I learned to achieve the no-thoughts state of mind, would be recognizing the elements that disrupted the equilibrium of my crystal clear puddle of water. Those would either be my own thoughts, caused by my Zen perception of the world slipping, or ripples caused by an external influence. Hence why, on the 22nd of April I was found myself in front of my Head of House's office. I entered the room when the wooden door opened, and I found myself staring at a model of the solar system floating near the high ceiling
In particular, the Sun was a perfect fireball. Not like my failed attempt to cast the Forbidden Sun from DS2 earlier in the week. The flames always lick upwards, it's physics, heating air travels from low to high because of her intrinsic density and the flame followed that movement. Not that fireball, oh no, the flames flickered radially on the sun's surface.
The planets each had all of their moons in the correct positions (we looked at Jupiter's moons on the 19th), I noticed that Mercury was faster than Jupiter in their elliptical orbits, after Mars, there was a belt of sand and.. ice crystals? All those elements made me think that even if they didn't know about the Apollos missions, wizards were not exactly hopeless. On my left there were shelves full of books that formed aisles impossibly deep, on my right a mirror that didn't reflect me and that I suspected was a door to a mirror dimension ready to swallow me (thanks, to many fantasies I read in my first life). I moved nervously out of the way only to almost crash into a pyramid of dueling trophies and awards of various kinds, before almost planting my face into... a floating parchment that was writing by itself?
Seriously, I want this office. A light cough took me away from my musings and when I looked forward, I completely ignored my amused professor in order to stare at the fire that rolled, twirled, and danced in the copper brazier engraved with runes.
"That's Gubraithian Fire." I blurted out.
"Indeed." laughed Flitwick "And how can you tell?"
"White and blue flame, no heat, no smoke." I explained analytically. "And there is no way in hell a normal magic fire [would] laughs in synch with you, sir." I added honestly. I want to do that. I need to learn that. RoR I'm coming!
"Aptly put, Mr Taylor. However, 10 points from Ravenclaw for inappropriate language." the charms' master merrily replied.
"And what else do you know about Gubraithian Fire?" he asked then.
"Gubraithian Fire, also named The Eternal Flame, is the expression of both absolute mastery over fire and perfect understanding of one's own magic." I spoke quickly "It's not about casting an ever-burning fire, even if it that can be an application of the magic involved, it's basically the representation of your own life force. And Being able to cast it means that you could theoretically extinguish rampaging Fiendfyre "
"And 15 points to Ravenclaw. I wouldn't have been able to explain it better myself. Having said that, do not cast Fiendfyre only to be able to see me put it down. It' s not something to play with, Mr. Taylor." the light tone of the professor made it clear he was joking and didn't actually think me capable of it.
Even if...
"Your efforts in learning occlumency are commendable, however, every wizard should exercise caution in their thoughts, occlumens or not."
Ugh, busted in my first year. That's underwhelming.
"Are you going to let the ministry arrest me professor?" I asked then, I was sad, really, but hopefully, the thunderbird would enjoy going down with a, eh, let's say a thunderstorm. My wand was, surprisingly enough, almost eager to let loose. It would have been an activity to add to my routine: every three days, destroy stuff in the RoR.
Before I could attempt my escape, the diminutive professor spoke again: "Why would I? Mr. Taylor, I remind you that it's only illegal to teach occlumency. Or to possess books that explain it. Those are objects that, if read, can teach this particular branch of magic." The half-goblin then showed me a predatory smile.
"I have no idea how you stumbled upon the Mind Arts, since I happen to know that there are only books about memory charms into the restricted section. And I know you didn't wander there. I have no interest in stopping your studies, I often try to encourage my students to broaden their topics of research. I fear, however, that you are biting off far more than any human is capable of chewing, Mr. Taylor."
And went on ignoring my attempt to protest. "You are studying almost a whole year ahead of your peers, self-studying runes, arithmancy, alchemy and occlumency." Rattled off quickly the charms monster.
Because seriously, pulling off a Gubraithian Fire, that shitload of enchantments and keeping such a close eye on every one of his students was just monstrous. I was aware that I wasn't anything special, so if he knew that much about me it was because he knew that much about every one of his Ravenclaws. "I'm flattered, Mr. Taylor." added then.
aaaand he was reading my mind, yep.
At that point I stopped looking him in the eyes.
Those fucking minds reading shiny dark eyes.
"A sensible precaution." he then added.
"Isn't against the law using legilimency against a minor, professor?" I asked coldly. I didn't know if it was true, but someone could only hope.
Oh, I was totally angry. Fuck that I was furious. I actually liked him until yesterday! How dare you! In that moment the air smelled like ozone and I noticed an electrostatic discharge running between the tip of my outraged wand and the floor.
"Not only you are my ward until you hit 17, but can you prove I was reading your mind?" the fucking mind reader asked.
Without waiting for an answer he continued: "And how would you know you are doing it right otherwise?".
The electricity ran up and down my left arm, without hurting me.
The wand felt... approving?
What the fuck!?
I thought about it for several seconds, running our conversation in my head.
"You can't teach occlumency." I then repeated dumbly.
I was watching the professor's chin, so I saw him smirk.
The little fucker!
"You should also learn how to school your expression, Mr. Taylor."
I scowled some more.
The little fucker actually laughed!
1989-01 September
I ended my first year with flying colors, but that was hardly a glowing success.
I had, after all, already studied almost all of my syllabus even before attending school.
Since then, the connection with my wand only improved, and the focus trick I learned for occlumency made my magic flow better trough my sentient wooden stick, while directing my intent outside my wand was either a slow application of will (for my transfigurations) or an almost ferocious battle in which I had to contain myself to keep a disarming charm from becoming an 'I-take-away-your-arm' charm.
I could now 9 times out of 10 change the state of water from liquid to ice only through changing the pressure. Following the feeling of the change of an autonomous cyclic process in the RoR had considerably shortened the understanding part of the process for my magic. Seriously, that Room was an overpowered feature of the castle. And yes, I could obtain the same end result with an aguamenti along with a glacius, but the point was learning alchemy, not the sixth year syllabus. I didn't know why, but I supposed there was a reason for the order in which we learn spells
Occlumency steadily improved too. Since May I had started noticing Flitwick poking around in my head, while I scowled or answered with focusing on the feeling of being a drop falling in a black lake of nothingness in response. That mental image helped me to clear my mind and the half-goblin started to wink at me signaling his approval.
When I was strolling in Diagon Alley, purchasing my stuff with the money sent to me by McGonagall, I went once again to Ollivander. I thanked him once again for my wand that I openly praised, earning a cool shiver of pleasure along my arm. The wand was preening?
I wasn't even surprised anymore.
On the spur of the moment, I asked: "What do I have to do to learn wandcrafting?"
Ollivander watched me with a glint in his too-big eyes that I could not really interpret in any way, before answering mysteriously, as only old wizards do: "Learn to listen, then try to talk. After that, come again and we will see if you can learn how to sing."
Seriously what the fuck is wrong with old wizards? My wand strangely chose to stay silent.
1989-last week of June
My second year had been very similar to my first, only with the first appearance of the Weasley twins to who ended up as expected in Gryffindor and Cedric Diggory to in Hufflepuff.
I really couldn't be bothered enough to care.
Flitwick liked 'The Little Prince' book I gifted to him for Christmas, and was thankful for the little handmade muggle glossary I added to the envelope made with old papers that talked about Neil Armstrong.
For McGonagall I prepared a yarn ball and 'The origin of the species' by Darwin.
Both books had been stolen from a library in London, but they didn't need to know that.
I learned a bunch of detection spells because the last thing I wanted was to show the Room of Requirement to the Twins.
I could empower my nose enough to distinguish my own sweat from the one of the others, and that was a terrifyingly good feat of transfiguration for a fourth year, I was in my second. Sadly, there were too many dung bombs, everywhere. The twins would need a few years to grow in finesse.
I asked McGonagall about permanent transfiguration. I completed a project to turn my glasses into heat visors with a combination of charms and runes. I used the Norse set, one was the symbol for dawn, the other for sight-understanding. While a system of two runes was hardly stable, at least speaking with the relative arithmancy in mind, the charm that bridged the two stabilized the set and was meant to behave like a circuit, activating the charm made the magic flow through the construct. I used arithmancy to analytically predict the result of seven wand movements and made up a gibberish-Latin incantation that would match the rhythm of said movements. That spell turned the inanimate object of exactly 90 degrees on their axis, clockwise, unless you changed the third movement with a downturned swirl. That modification made the object spin counterclockwise. I studied the laws that regulated the crossbreeding of magical creatures and stole several raven eggs that nobody cared about. I strung up a friendship of sorts with Hagrid and started getting up at 5 a.m. to help him with this and that on the Hogwarts grounds. During the year I ended up trying to read the future with an old deck of Tarot cards provided by the Room of the Lost Things, and from time to time I sent a letter to that drunk that taught divination reporting my readings and asking for guidance. I experimented a bit with potions, trying to come up with faster or cheaper ways to do what we would then do in class. I mostly failed but researching why I failed ended up giving me a leg up from time to time both in potions and herbology. After a lesson I asked Professor Sprout how to grow an independent forest ecosystem in an enlarged cave.
When I was sure enough of my occlumency that I could keep it up while fighting against bludgers in the RoR, I asked Flitwick to teach me how to duel. He refused, but somehow, I had the feeling he was expecting me to prove myself. I wondered if it was possible to use occlumency to develop the ability to multitask to a point in which it was possible to think about several separate things independently, but I assumed the risk of creating a split personality was too high and abandoned that line of research. I started to learn how to origami following a book, and I managed to animate a paper swallow to flap its wings. It still didn't fly.
After asking the nurse what was necessary to learn to become a healer, I started studying human and mammal anatomy. Since May, I sent letters to every one of the professors (but Snape, Dumbledore, and Quirrell, who was teaching muggle studies) asking all different questions on a variety of magical topics.
I showed my projects to each of the electives' professors asking every kind of question I could think of to help improve them. I honestly think I surprised professor Vector with my new spell, and questions about the relation between wards and mathematical systems with several algebraic unknowns. Kettleburn liked my idea to teach ravens how to talk to relay messages by voice.
The year ended without happenings worthy of any particular note.