AN: Yo, here's chap 3.
Chapter 3 is focused on Jake and HP.
Chapter 4 will focus on Kyle and Pokemon.
And the next 6 chapters after will be half/half.
Enjoy. And remember, this is just for fun, let's chill and enjoy a casual story.
.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but some stuff and my own content.
.
Chapter 3: Three Years – Jake
It only took Mr. Walker two days to slap down a stack of government issued placement tests for each core subject on the desk in Jake's room.
Jake would be lying if he said he didn't sulk at the sight of them, seemingly making Mr. Walker laugh.
"Haha get to it boy, let's see where you stand for a street urchin eh? I know your smarter than others would believe, you survived on those streets so I'm sure you learned well by chatter of others if nothing else.
Do your best and don't worry if you can't answer anything, this is just the start. No matter where you are, it's only up from here."
Jake grimaced but nodded all the same. "I will Mr. Walker. Thank you for this."
The older man patted his shoulder with a smile. "Think nothing of it son, now get to it. No lollygagging."
And with that he left, and Jake eyed his hated nemesis with a wary gaze before sighing and getting to work.
The results that came back a day later were less than satisfying. Downright mortifying in fact.
In some area's he was higher than average and others he just failed straight out.
Mr. Walker trying to encourage him only made it worse at first but the older man had a way of getting around that and figuratively smacking him into shape.
"You don't like that you failed boy? Do better then! You're the only one who can change that outcome. Don't sit there and whine about it."
Roundabout encouragement it may have been, but damn did it light a fire under Jake's ass.
He dove into his studies with determination he never had shown before. Kyle would be proud.
Jake would be lying if he said that he was a straight A student in his last life. He was an average B – C student at best, but to be fair he never truly applied himself in school.
There were a variety of reasons to it, but the simple answer is that he just wasn't interested.
If you want to succeed at something, you need to have a drive. A 'desire.' And as it was with him and the vast majority of teenagers, he had a variety of 'desires.'
If you were to scale his desire on a chart, maybe around 20-30% was toward his studies. Mostly just because he didn't want to fail, be embarrassed, or disappoint others.
The other 70-80% was toward things that most teenagers were interested in. Video games, sex, friends, drugs, alcohol, parties, sports, sex, and all kinds of things. Mostly related to the idea of 'fun.'
It's truly amazing how much thought and effort someone can direct toward something they find 'fun' or greatly 'desire.'
So what changed now? It certainly wasn't his older mentality. His mind was currently a mix of a twenty year old and an eight year old. Not a twenty eight year old.
Parts of him were childish and others were very mature. It was an odd mix but nothing that truly bothered him or made him stand out dramatically.
Not to mention the fact that an adult brain doesn't truly help you with lower years of education.
Jake suffered from two main things when he took his tests.
First, he was born in the ninety's in his first life while he was currently living in the eighty's. The information on the tests wasn't alien to him, but it was different. Add in how he was American before and British now and it makes a weird mix in his head.
Secondly, there is a very good reason TV shows like 'Are you smarter than a fifth grader?' became so popular.
The adult brain has long since forgotten half the repetitive useless shit you learned in your early years.
Education is like building a tower. The basics of a dozen subjects form the base and with more advanced subjects over the years, you build higher and higher, specializing in area's.
But very few go back and recall those basic stuff. Basic math? Easy. Basic history? Not so easy. Geography? Do you have any idea how many tiny countries there are? Jake could swear he never knew a quarter of them existed let alone where they were on a map. Why even ask about them!
So he wasn't any insane genius just because he got de-aged. He was no genius the first time around.
But none of that stopped him.
He took to his studies with a force never before shown with any academic subject in his first life. It wasn't that he became smarter, maybe a bit wiser from experience, but his IQ didn't go through any drastic change.
It was simply the will and desire to improve.
Where he only showed 20-30% of a desire to learn before, he was showing at least 70-80% now. Not for non-magical studies in specific but for magic.
Any type of non-magical subject was seen as a stepping stone to learn more about magic. Some things might cross territories and apply in several ways, like how math could help with Arithmancy.
Not that Jake was studying that subject. Turning spells and probabilities into numbers wasn't his thing.
But that was just how his brain tried to understand things. Study the non-magical subject, try to see how it can help with learning magic, and do his best.
Every subject he gets past is one less in the way to magic.
It was easy to think he could just ignore all the annoying stuff and jump right in, screw what others think, but Jake realized that was his immaturity speaking.
Mr. Walker wanted nothing but the best for him, and Jake would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling warm and flattered by it.
No one ever truly focused on him as much as the older man did. To be his best, do his best, and be an active guiding voice to help him.
Most of the things he learned his first time around were trial and error, google, and a mix of watching others. Sure he had some family to help, and he wasn't exactly suffering, but it's a very different situation.
For both his own mentality and the availability, will, and skill of the one guiding him.
The older man had done nothing but support him from day one. No matter the personal reasons he had, he was giving Jake his 120% effort, and Jake would be a real little shit if he didn't reciprocate.
It didn't take long for his little Metamorph secret to come out. It's not that Jake had the desire to shout his secrets to any random nobody, or even any somebody, but he just couldn't find it in him to lie to Mr. Walker.
Not to mention that Jake couldn't logically force himself to NOT play around with his abilities. He could do fucking magic.
He was not about to stunt that and pretend he couldn't use it.
The first few weeks, he was hesitant about telling the old wolf, and he kept assessing it in the safety of his own room, but one day he tripped in the living room and accidentally sent his hair through a variety of colors.
To be fair, it really wasn't easy to control and took conscious effort to not let his mind wander, and in turn his body. When his mind wandered, his body tended to react to his thoughts.
Like how when a guy daydreams about sex, he can pop a boner without focusing on it.
The good news is that the old wolf was happy for him and greatly supported him training his abilities. The bad news was that the old wolf was happy for him and greatly supported him training his abilities.
Did you see the issue?
Mr. Walker would make a drill instructor proud with his self-discipline. The older man puts his all toward any task.
And figuring out a healthy schedule to cram everything Jake learned or trained in a single day was something the older man took to like an artist.
6AM, wake up.
6:15AM, go for a jog in the neighborhood with the old wolf.
7AM, breakfast.
8AM-12PM, study while Mr. Walker does his work as an accountant that he took home with him. What Jake studied varied each day. The old man knew doing the same thing over and over would make someone want to shoot their brains out and wisely swapped out subjects each day.
Thankfully, Jake was free to choose his schedule himself.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the time period was for English, Math, and Geography. An hour and fifteen minutes each. It was mainly an hour of focus with some wiggle room to breathe.
Tuesday and Thursday's slot was for Science, Economics, and History.
Mr. Walker had gotten him textbooks and workbooks to make his way through self-study. Thankfully not the standard issue dry as chalk ones as well. The older man scoffed at that crap and got him some custom ones from the local library. In his words, these were real textbooks, as in ones from his time.
Jake could admit that when it comes to the basics, the older generation were much more cookie cutter with things. They skipped all that nonsense and got right to the meat.
12 – 2PM was lunch and tea time. Never tell a British man that tea time is silly. He will punch your teeth out and pour real tea down your throat in the gaping hole.
As a prior American, Jake did his absolute best to pretend to be an eight year old who had never made tea before. He doubted the older man would appreciate his experience with store bought bagged tea.
Kudos to the British, they do black tea to a level that could match Japanese green tea enthusiasts.
And damn it if Jake wasn't having a blast. Mr. Walker calmy guiding him step by step into making the best cup of tea he ever made in his life was a memory he would always cherish.
Just as he would remember the face the old wolf made at his first attempt at making good tea. He still drank it with a straight face but when Jake went to refill his glass, his calloused hand just landed on the teapot and he looked him dead in the eye.
"That's enough son, it taste like piss."
He said it with such calm offense and intensity that Jake couldn't help bursting out in laughter that was soon joined by his foster parent.
"I'll make a real Brit out of you yet boy."
Jake felt warm remembering those words, not that he would ever admit it to anyone. Especially not Kyle. That bastard was running around on a goddamn Eevee farm and having the time of his life.
Jake was not jealous. Not even when he was sharpening his best friend stabbing spork.
Between 2PM and 4PM, the old wolf gave him free time to 'play' while he went back to work. In his words: "A young lad can't spend all day indoors. Go out and explore, just keep your abilities a secret and stay out of trouble….or just don't get caught."
Jake was greatly amused with the advice but he didn't plan to waste the time. He didn't share the same interests as a kid his age, he was curious but he didn't have any desire to play with action figures or make friends.
He decided to use the time to build up his body.
Jake wasn't exactly a gym rat in his last life, but he was big on working out. Usually with body weight exercises like Calisthenics and free running.
Not to mention another critical point.
"What kind of fanfic addict would I be if I didn't work on my body? At least 90% of Harry Potter fanfics spoke of how a strong body leads to stronger magic. A stronger base container lets magic enhance more and have more space to fill up."
Any real Harry Potter fanfic reader would smack him over the head for being lazy about it.
With that said, he was still eight, and an eight year old doesn't lift weights. He could if he wanted to stunt his growth but he didn't want to.
So he did what he could.
Running through the streets and in the park. He was too young for free running but he could build up his stamina.
Basic exercises like pushups, sit ups, and chin ups on the monkey bars at the playground.
It made for an amusing sight to the old grandparents watching their grandchildren play on the playground when a small boy starts doing his best to work out on the side.
Jake had quickly become a local favorite of some of them. Elderly veteran soldiers would come over and throw out tips, correct his form, and encourage him.
And the elderly women were always throwing him compliments for being so determined.
Jake wouldn't lie that he didn't like it. It was…nice. He felt special, whole, and fulfilled in a way he never felt before.
And it's not like something crazy happened. It was just nice people doing trivial things.
Jake remembered someone saying that it was the little things in life that add up to make the big things and he never really realized the wisdom in that before now.
He simply never realized….just how much of life he wasted before.
Like he was just cruising through life with no goal, destination, or purpose. He did more in a few weeks as an eight year old that his old self did in months.
And he was loving it.
From 4PM to 6PM was Latin time. The old man was determined to set a sturdy foundation in the Latin language for Jake.
Since spells were spoken and written in Latin, he needed to be able to read, translate, and speak it. Even if no one spoke Latin in conversation.
It was a dead language for a reason and the old man didn't expect him to be able to use it in conversation, but he did want him to be able to pronounce each word clearly.
He also didn't expect results right away for this subject. It would take months, if not years, of dedicated study to get it down naturally.
Jake was honestly touched when the old man handed him a stack of flashcards with various words in Latin on one side and the English translation on the other.
The old wolf hand wrote them himself for him to use. Some were even older than the others which Jake understood to mean they had once been his own study method when he was learning magic years ago.
Jake made sure to keep a few on him when he could to make sure they stuck in his head.
6PM – 7PM was dinner. Jeff was always enthusiastic to give his best and Jake was wondering how he could have lived without a house elf before then.
He often bugged the little elf to let him watch him cook since the elf would have a mental breakdown when he asked if he could try to cook.
Jake enjoyed cooking. He wasn't any chef but it was something he did for himself for most of his past life and he found it soothing.
So if he couldn't cook, he could at least watch the elf work and note down things in his private journal. It was not a diary no matter what anyone said.
Mr. Walker scoffed when Jake thought it was silly to have a journal and pointed out that the majority of accounts history has on some of the most famous people through the era's was because they all had personal journals.
Journals, letters, and books they all wrote are the only true words we have to know them by long after their time.
Jake didn't feel silly anymore after that. It actually felt rather manly he mused to himself. Kyle still threw stones at him but Jakes house was made of steel!
Heh, the guy was just jealous of his cool looking journal. It was a gift from the old man and the first real magic item he had seen so far.
A dragon leather bound book in a mahogany brown color.
It took a drop of Jakes blood and was locked with only him able to open and read the contents. It was blank to anyone else's eyes. The book also had three times the number of pages and was fire and water proof.
Mr. Walker explained that it was one of the items he used from the magical world full time. It made his work a hundred times easier since the book could always open to the pages he wanted and the knowledge was secure.
The man has a damn stack of blank ones in the basement.
Contrary to how fanfiction talked up blood magic being outlawed by the ministry, it's perfectly fine if it's focused on non-lethal items for personal uses like journals or cabinets. Or wards.
The old man explained it clearly when Jake asked but even if it was illegal Jake wouldn't care. The damn thing was bloody useful.
Bloody. He was really becoming a Brit.
Jake left sections for core subjects of non-magical subjects; stuff he would always find useful but wouldn't be able to stick in his head permanently without a mastery of Occlumency.
Occlumency, the magical art of the mind. Jake really wanted it but that was one area he couldn't just come out and ask for. It was one thing to tell the old man about his Metamorph powers and the weird way he senses magic, but there was no way he would mention his past life.
His past life was his and his alone. Well, Kyle too but they didn't plan to tell anything not connected to their souls about those memories.
If Jake had a familiar, he would share. Same with Kyle and a Pokemon team. Maybe if they got married they could tell their partners but beyond that? no.
Stories where the MC went around expounding the Dao of their past lives were just aggravating.
Anyway, Jake was happy with his journal.
8 – 10PM was downtime. Mr. Walker gave him free reign to do as he wished but often times the two would find themselves sitting by the fire on the leather chairs while Jake asked all kinds of questions about Magic and the old man would either answer him or tell him a story that contains his answer rather than do it directly.
Just by listening to the stories told, Jake found the lessons coming clearer to him rather than if the man had given him the answer alone.
Jake really began to look up to the old wolf. The more time passed, the more he really solidified as a father and teacher figure in his mind.
Jake found that he wanted to make the man proud as much for himself as for him. It was a weird feeling, but not one Jake truly minded.
His goals were still his own. But how he got there Jake didn't mind. Know where you want to go and enjoy the ride so to speak.
10PM was bed time. Mr. Walker didn't enforce it, but Jake learned in the first few days to follow his example and sleep. At first he was staying up late to play with his Metamorph powers but then he found himself unable to focus the next day and getting tired and sluggish.
His life wasn't like it used to be. In his old life he didn't have such a strict schedule and so his bad sleep habits wouldn't bother his days much.
But now every hour of his day counted. Not enough sleep would begin a chain reaction of failure that he didn't want to deal with.
So he slept when it was time to sleep. He was eight after all and a growing boy needs their rest.
Finally, on the weekends, Mr. Walker would take Jake to the nearby boxing gym.
It wasn't for competition but for something much better.
Standing behind a bag in a quiet corner of the gym, the old wolf looked down at Jakes small form wearing a t-shirt and shorts with child boxing gloves on and smiled.
"Alright brat, do you know why we are here?"
Jake gave the old man the stink eye and lifted his hands inside their gloves. "To box I presume?"
The old man grunted. "Aye. And don't sass me."
Jake's brow twitched. "What do you expect me to say? You dragged me off like a limp puppy without warning, threw some gloves on my hand, and placed me in front of a bag in a gym."
The older man rose a finger and opened his mouth before pausing, nodding, and lowering the finger.
"Fair point. I apologize if I frightened you, I was a bit excited."
Jake shrugged with a small smile. "I was fine, just curious is all. Why did this excite you so much?"
Mr. Walker smiled widely. "It hit me that I could share one of the things that helped me a lot in my life with you and I acted before thinking."
He got a far off look for a moment. "I can't tell you how many years I got off steam and negative energy just going at it on a heavy bag. I turned all that anger and energy into improving myself and I thank the boxing coach that got me into things back when I was a teenager looking to pick a fight on the streets. He whipped my butt good and tossed my ass in his gym. Told me to hit the bag till I got things out of my system and I did. Ended up heading back every chance I got for years before he retired."
The genuine smile on his face and his rough calloused hands told a long story. The old wolf's eyes refocused on him and he smacked the heavy bag.
"We are here for four reasons son.
One, I want you to get in the habit of spending excess energy on a heavy bag. It will keep you out of trouble in life and focus those emotions into something positive.
Second, it will help build up your body. If you want to be a strong man, you need to forge yourself. I started too late in my life and have my pain and scars to remember it.
Your young, start now and you will skip out on plenty of pain down the road.
Third, confidence. A confident man is one who understands the limits of his body. Know yourself, know your body, and learn to trust it. If you are comfortable to move and act when you need to, you will feel confident in anything you do.
And finally, the last reason is because of your little gift. I can't say I know how it feels, but I have a decent idea from what you explained to me.
Your mind and body are connected on a deep level. You need to consciously focus and know what you want to change on a theoretical level, but your power also works when your day dreaming with your head in the clouds. I've seen you change when your spacing out boy.
You need to learn to hone your focus. To not get spooked by any loud noise and start mimicking a disco ball with that hair of yours."
He rustled Jakes hair as the boy laughed and tried to push the man's iron clamp of a hand away.
"I get it, I get it, relax old man."
Mr. Walker chuckled and hit the bag with the side of his hand. "Enough dilly dallying. Go on and hit the bag. Every Saturday and Sunday we'll come by for a few hours."
Jake nodded and stood in front of the bag before throwing a punch with all his weight causing the bag to barely move an inch.
"…"
He was eight and the thing was like eighty pounds wrapped in hard leather. It was hard.
The old man didn't laugh though. He bent down and gently moved his arm. "Like this son. You punch like that and you can sprain your wrist.
Straighten that wrist, hit with the knuckles of your pointer and middle finger. You want it to feel flush and true."
Jake hit the bag again and saw it shake more this time.
"Better. Bend your knee's slightly. Keep your legs this far apart."
*Bang*, the bag shook harder.
"Good! Now turn with your waist. Use your lower body, not just your arm."
*Bang*, the bag moved slightly.
"Aye! That's the way son. Don't keep your feet flat, you want to be light and quick to be able to adjust."
*Bang*
"Back straight, don't hunch over."
*Bang*
"Don't forget to breathe. Make a rhythm and follow it. Inhale and exhale with each strike."
*BANG*
Jake followed all the steps and gave it all he had and the bag swung backwards a whole foot, causing him to stumble in surprise and fall toward the incoming bag on a collision course with his face.
But thankfully a large hand stopped it as the old wolf laughed. "Haha, easy lad. Don't commit it all unless it's the last hit you got in you."
Jake nodded with a rough breath and tried to get air into his lungs. Boxing for a first timer at his age was a killer. Just two minutes of going at it and he was out of breath.
And yet he had a beaming smile on his face as the old wolf patted his shoulder. "You did good son, I'm proud of you."
Jake's smile turned wider than humanly possible with his abilities and the old man chuckled and slapped his back lightly and spoke in a humored tone.
"Don't go losing control now. Come on, let's go again."
And this was how his days went. One after another time began to pass.
They say time flies when you're having fun, and for Jake, the feeling of progress, and knowing each step he took was one step closer to his goal of magic qualified as 'fun' to him.
Every boring subject suddenly seemed like a video game. The more he leveled them up, the closer he could get to unlocking the 'wizard' class. He even began to enjoy them in a weird hate/love relationship.
And like that, time flew by.
It was three months of this life later that the old man stopped Jake before going to bed and handed him an envelope.
"Whats this?"
He sipped a glass of whiskey and didn't give anything away. "Open it and see for yourself."
Jake didn't question it overly much and did so. However, the contents had his eyes widen. "Wo."
Mr. Walker smiled at his reaction. "Indeed son. Congratulations, you're a straight A student."
Jake stared blankly at the progress report showing his test scores. At the end of each month, the older man would give him a modified version of the same placement tests he took on the first day to evaluate his results.
Whenever Jake asked about the results, the old man said not to worry about it and keep working hard. He always assumed there was nothing worth seeing.
And now seeing the results of his labors gave him a strange feeling.
Pride, confidence, joy, and a feeling of fulfillment. "Wo."
The older man laughed. "Yeah, 'wo,' you did good boy. You earned each of those scores."
Jake laughed right along with him.
'I can't believe how much simple joy I could get from something so small.' Jake had the desire to frame the report card. Not because he cared about his early education but because he wanted to remember this moment and this feeling. To remember the feeling of success and seeing the fruit of his labor.
The two enjoyed a silence for a moment as jake read over the simple report a few times more before he turned to his foster parent. "Thank you sir, truly."
Mr. Walker scoffed. "Don't thank me, you're the one who put in the effort. I gave you the tools and let you decide for yourself."
"But you did give me the tools."
The old man's brow twitched. "Aye."
Jake bowed his head. "So thank you. I can't really express how much your support has meant for me."
And Jake meant it.
He honestly was a bit ashamed of how simple his plans were up till now.
He got a new life in Harry Potter, he was a wizard, and a Metamorph with a special perk on top. And yet, all his plans were centered on Hogwarts. On the timeline. And on what he could take advantage of.
He never truly stopped to ask himself what else he could accomplish without all that. Without the cheats he could use. These test results were HIS. His effort and time spent to get them.
Did he still plan to use every cheat he could? 100%, there was no question on that. But Mr. Walker helped him be his own person and not a cop out of some MC from a Harry Potter fanfiction.
So he was grateful. Grateful and determined to do what he could. To be a man in whom he could find pride and confidence.
Plenty of mistakes were made in a life before, and he had no interest in making them again.
*Puff*
A soft noise to the side broke his train of thought and Jake turned to see a book beneath the old man's hand on the small table between the two leather chairs.
He looked down at it with a far off look as his hand gently brushed the cover.
"I made you a deal three months ago son, and I'll honor it."
He slid the book over and Jake gently picked it up. It was old for sure with a few scoff marks here and there but all around in good condition.
The label was a bit faded but he could make out two words. "B-Basicae Magica?" The title was in Latinand a bit awkward to pronounce.
"Basicae Magicae*. Don't forget to draw out the vowels." The old man corrected him patiently like always before going on.
"It translated to 'The Basics of Magic.' It's a book older than myself." He finished in a fond tone and Jake's eyes lit up.
An actual book on magic!
The old man had forbidden him from studying anything about magic until he got his grades up. Jake gave the man a grateful look that had him chuckling at the sight.
"Don't be going banana's boy, it's no magic spell book or fancy tome."
Jake shrugged with the smile remaining. "I don't care, it's the first book on magic I've seen so far."
"Haha, fair enough, fair enough." He looked down at the book in Jake's lap. "Basicae Magicae, it's not particularly special of a book. It don't got no fancy secret or spell. It isn't worth much gold. Hell, most full blooded wizards wouldn't even look twice at it.
But it's worth a mountain of gold to me. That book did a lot for a poor muggleborn orphan lost in a world he couldn't understand.
The book was written by some an old wizard in the late 1700's, a man named Erwin Crest. Don't bother looking for his name, the man made no real waves in the world that it remembers him by.
But what he managed to do was author a book, clearly defining his views on magic and mana, and what it all was.
The book gave me no enlightenment but it gave me a foundation to build my mental focus on. My first year of magic school had me feeling in the dumps. Poor grades, no friends, and plenty of bullying due to my blood status. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it another year before getting expelled.
But that book right there, I found it in a fleece market held on one of the side streets in Diagon Alley, the magical area I told you about in London. Paid a sickle for the old thing.
Best damn sickle spent in my life I tell you. The book gave me something to work with, something to put my belief of magic in, it set me straight and I owe my successful magical education on it.
It isn't a long book, nor is it all that hard to remember the words, but the words are ones that keep on giving. Really profound stuff. With every challenge I overcome, I find myself looking back on the words and seeing a new truth to them.
You did both of us proud son, and now I honor our deal and pass on the book to you."
He finished his speech to stand up while finishing his drink and clapping the empty glass down on the table. "Take a week off from your morning studies to go through the book. We will start your magical education the week after during the final hours of the day."
Jake stood up in excitement and went to thank him but the old wolf cut him off with a pointed finger and hard look.
"But remember boy, if you want to learn, you need to keep up your studies in non-magical subjects. I'm not asking for perfection; I know damn well there isn't enough time in the world for one to learn everything. You will find subjects you prefer over others, and that's fine. Just keep the others to a passing degree and show your efforts with the ones you specialize in.
Keep that up, and I'll fill that little head of yours with all I know of magic before them bigwig Hogwarts teachers show up and whisk you away with a tiny show of a wand to amaze you.
Your efforts won't always lead to success, but your success will always be because of your efforts." He ended with a scoff and a smile before ruffling Jakes hair. "I'm proud of you Jake, show the world what you got."
Jake smiled wide with a bright warmth in his chest that made his hair turn a fiery red. "I promise…Uncle."
Both their eyes widened slightly. The word slipped out without him really thinking of it, but it felt right.
James walkers eyes crinkled in a mix of joy and old pain as he ruffled Jake's hair again gently. "Good. I'm going to rest. Don't stay up late reading you hear?"
He walked off with his characteristic slight limp and a hand waving over his shoulder and Jake stared at his larger back in deep thought.
Jake wondered a lot about the old man's story, the light limp in his step, the reason he lives alone at his age, and what mistakes he made that left him so determined to help someone like Jake. A random orphan.
He never asked the old man out of respect but it didn't mean he wasn't curious. Jake turned away as the old man passed the corner and looked down at the worn book.
His confusing mix of emotions about the old…no…about his uncle, faded away for the moment as his excitement grew at the sight of the book.
'Sure, it might not be a family grimoire or something, but at least it's finally something magic related!'
The magic journal he was given weeks before was and still is impressive, but it's not exactly a text on magic itself.
Jake had been taking the time where he could focus on his Metamorph abilities and the mana he could sense flowing beneath his skin, but between everything else he had to do as well as his next to non-existent knowledge of how to properly use mana, he was floundering.
All he really managed to do was get better at stopping himself from accidentally changing, as well as discovering that at least as far as uncle went, wizards did not have mana flowing beneath their skin.
When he focused on it while sitting next to him, Jake could 'see' or sense the mana inside his foster parent.
It was focused on the direct center of his body, beneath his diaphragm, in a shape not unlike looking at a star in the night sky. It had no distinct shape but still clearly had something. A star is the best way Jake could put it.
Following that, there was a sense of mana flowing consistently and strongly from the core of his body and down his left arm to his hand. When asked which hand he held his wand in, Mr. Walker confirmed it was his left.
Following that, he looked at Jeff and sensed something different. Jeff had no 'core' where mana focused but had mana flowing through his body at all times.
There was even a very faint trail of mana flowing from uncle into Jeff. Most likely from the bond between them.
'It was said that house elves are a parasitic species after all.'
They fed on the mana of the master to sustain themselves as they could not generate their own mana. Meaning they had no core that generated mana.
And finally, when he looked at himself, Jake sensed a core of focused mana in his chest, as well as a flow of mana beneath his skin. It was like he was a mix of uncle and Jeff.
It made Jake endlessly curious and wishing for more people to compare to. But based on simple conjecture and hypothesis, he assumed it was due to his Metamorph nature changing him more than he originally thought.
Was he human? A wizard? A magical creature? Or some weird mix of all three.
The book in his hand looked like it might hold some answers. Jake quickly got up to his room and changed so he could focus on the book without caring if he passed out mid-way.
After diving into bed, he opened it up and began reading.
"Chapt'r 1: What Art We?
A fartuous questioneth p'rhaps. Most of our kind shall bid thee, 'magic is magic' and a 'wizard is a wizard,' but such an answ'r nev'r did satisfy me."
Jake stopped and rubbed his eyes. 'Goddamn it, this book was written by a wizard in the 1700's, of course it's going to be in old English.'
Thankfully for him, the last three months of life has been heavily invested in learning Latin from the old wolf on a daily basis. And plenty of Latin translates in old English.
Not to mention the thousands of hours Jake spent reading machine translations of Chinese wuxia novels.
'Thank you old me, your pain is now being rewarded.'
Jake chuckled at the thought and focused back on the book, this time mentally translating things as he went along.
"Chapt'r 1: What Art We?
A fartuous questioneth p'rhaps. Most of our kind shall bid thee, 'magic is magic' and a 'wizard is a wizard,' but such an answ'r nev'r did satisfy me.
'Chapter 1: What are we?
A silly question perhaps. Most of our kind will tell you, 'magic is magic' and a 'wizard is a wizard,' but such an answer never satisfied me.'
To answ'r the questioneth of what magic is and what we art, we wilt behold inward rath'r than outward. The w'rld certes holds many answ'rs howev'r we may spendeth a lifetime searching f'r those folk and faileth, while our owneth bodies holdeth the most wondrous answ'rs.
'To answer the question of what magic is and what we are, we must look inward rather than outward. The world assuredly holds many answers however we may spend a lifetime searching for them and fail, while our own bodies hold the best answers.'
Our bodies art our greatest and deepest connection to magic. Not our wand, anoth'r focus, 'r our spells. Our bodies art the most special, because of our connection to our soul.
'Our bodies are our greatest and deepest connection to magic. Not our wand, another focus, or our spells. Our bodies are the most special, because of our connection to our soul.'
We art a magical species. Don't alloweth those did stick up fusty daws bid thee we art descend'd from gods 'r such tush tush. We art what happeneth to muggles, 'r humans, at which hour magic int'rmixes.
'We are a magical species. Don't let those stuck up old fools tell you we are descended from gods or such nonsense. We are what happens to muggles, or humans, when magic intermixes.'
The same way magic int'rmix'd with a h'rse and t becameth a unic'rn, 'r a thestral, 'r any numb'r of h'rse typeth magical beasts.
'The same way magic intermixed with a horse and it became a Unicorn, or a Thestral, or any number of horse type magical beasts.'
Magic is a phantasmal thing. T alt'rs reality on a c're leveleth, with beings alt'r'd by t able to reproduceth as if 't be true those gents w're a natural parteth of life.
'Magic is a phantasmal thing. It alters reality on a core level, with beings altered by it able to reproduce as if they were a natural part of life.'
And p'rhaps those gents w're since magic is a natural parteth of life.
'And perhaps they were since magic is a natural part of life.'
Magic hath changed us. T hast been did test bef're, rath'r gruesomely I wilt addeth, about what happeneth at which hour a wizard attempts to floweth mana through a muggle.
'Magic changed us. It has been assessed before, rather gruesomely I must add, about what happens when a wizard attempts to flow mana through a muggle.'
If 't be true the wizard wills the mana to f'rm a spelleth, the spelleth shall taketh holdeth. Howev'r, if 't be the mana hast nay a spell, the muggle shall almost inevitably, explosively, kicketh the bucket.
'If the wizard wills the mana to form a spell, the spell will take hold. However, if the mana has no will, the muggle will almost inevitably, explosively, die.'
Their bodies cannot enwheel mana liketh us because mana and magic flows through the soul. Our bodies has't been hath changed by magic to alloweth mana to floweth from our soul into a metaphysical c're, and into our bodies.
'Their bodies cannot contain mana like us because mana and magic flows through the soul. Our bodies have been changed by magic to allow mana to flow from our soul into a metaphysical core, and into our bodies.'
A muggle hast nay connection between body and soul, and th'ref're the mana shall buildeth up in the physical shell yond is unprepar'd f'r t, and…well…explode.
'A muggle has no connection between body and soul, and therefore the mana will build up in the physical shell that is unprepared for it, and…well…explode.'
Such tests has been p'rf'rm'd annually, ev'ry decade, f'r centuries, by the Rocketh'r family. Howev'r, despite document'd proof, our kind is at war with itself in regards to the questioneth.
'Such tests have been performed annually, every decade, for centuries, by the Rocker family. However, despite documented proof, our kind is at war with itself in regards to the question.'
The maj'rity wisheth to believeth those gents art gods only did match by their owneth kind, while a min'rity has't broad'r outlooks. I feareth gen'rations of magic us'rs has't dull'd c'rtain progressive traits 'mongst our species.
'The majority wish to believe they are gods only matched by their own kind, while a minority have broader outlooks. I fear generations of magic users have dulled certain progressive traits among our species.'
But coequal 'mongst both sides, so many art so quick to deny aught yond relates to the 'soul.' Believing t is h'resy to coequal studyeth such a thing. Those gents labeleth t 'dark' and 'f'rbidden' without an und'rstanding of wherefore. Those gents art t'rrifi'd by the feareth of the unknown.
'But even among both sides, so many are so quick to deny anything that relates to the 'soul.' Believing it is heresy to even study such a thing. They label it 'dark' and 'forbidden' without an understanding of why. They are terrified by the fear of the unknown.'
Creatures such as dement'rs only enf'rce their fears, as at which hour one is 'kissed' their soul is eaten, leaving a p'rfectly intact, functioning, brain dead corpse behind. The corpse couldst beest hath kept alive until it's natural death. But the mind and soul art longeth since gone, leaving an exsufflicate shell.
'Creatures such as Dementors only enforce their fears, as when one is 'kissed' their soul is eaten, leaving a perfectly intact, functioning, brain dead body behind. The body could be kept alive until it's natural death. But the mind and soul are long since gone, leaving an empty shell.'
Howev'r, I am one of the few who is't off'r anoth'r hypothesis. The soul is intricate and beyond much of what any researcheth'r truly und'rstands. So how can it simply beest eaten?
'However, I am one of the few who offer another hypothesis. The soul is intricate and beyond much of what any researcher truly understands. So how can it simply be eaten?'
What if 't be true dement'rs doth not englut the soul, but in fact englut the mana 'c're.' As in the connection a wizard hast with their soul yond allows magic to floweth through. With such a vital parteth of us gone, t wouldst beest as if 't be true our entire system shuts down and forsooth dies. Or believes itself to beest dead, and th'ref're we art dead.
'What if Dementors do not devour the soul, but in fact devour the mana 'core.' As in the connection a wizard has with their soul that allows magic to flow through. With such a vital part of us gone, it would be as if our entire system shuts down and indeed dies. Or believes itself to be dead, and therefore we are dead.'
Mana is to a wizard what air 'r wat'r is to a muggle.
'Mana is to a wizard what air or water is to a muggle.'
A few examples of this hypothesis being true is how dement'rs ign're muggles. If 't be true those gents simply did want to consume souls, wherefore not wend aft'r those folk? But those gents doth not.
'A few examples of this hypothesis being true is how Dementors ignore muggles. If they simply wanted to eat souls, why not go after them? But they do not.'
Or how a house elf, who is't is a being sustain'd by mana, leaves nay corpse behind at which hour 'kissed.'
'Or how a house elf, who is a being sustained by mana, leaves no body behind when 'kissed'.'
I doth not delve into this subject f'r the int'rest in dement'rs, but f'r mine own int'rest in und'rstanding what magic is to me and what we art.
'I do not delve into this subject for the interest in dementors, but for my interest in understanding what magic is to me and what we are.'
We art a magical species. I sayeth t again. Magic is the beating heart of what maketh us, us.
'We are a magical species. I say it again. Magic is the beating heart of what makes us, us.'
I desire this account of mine own exp'riences survives the ages and has't taken lib'rty to enchant as many protections as possible on t from threats to its parchment.
'I hope this account of my experiences survives the ages and have taken liberty to enchant as many protections as possible on it from threats to its parchment.'
In the next few chapt'rs, I shalt delve into mine own und'rstanding of magic, specifically mana, and what I feeleth art the true 'basics' of what those gents art."
'In the next few chapters, I shall delve into my understanding of magic, specifically mana, and what I feel are the true 'basics' of what they are."'
Jake was completely absorbed in the books contents. The old English text was a challenge to decipher but after a few lines, his brain began automatically translating it for him and he didn't have to do much work.
Just chapter one already began blowing his mind with what was written.
'I can't just take everything at face value, people often exaggerate or speak of things strongly from their own side.'
Jake knew to read anything written with a grain of salt but the contents spoke to him. Dozens of various Harry Potter world theories went through his mind as he pondered on chapter one.
The soul, the body, and the core that connects the two.
Mana being generated or gathered by the soul before flowing into the body.
And the examples with dementors.
Jake had no way of proving it, but it felt right in a way. His own conjectures on his Metamorph abilities coming into his thoughts enforced the hypothesis.
Of course, that led to dozens of more questions. Such as why this wasn't commonly known. Or was it?
What was common and what wasn't common? Jake honestly had no idea. He had fanon knowledge at his disposal, but this wasn't a fanfiction, this was a real world. And he had to read and learn to understand what this world knew.
If anything, that only excited him more.
"Chapter 2: The difference between Magic and Mana."
It was going to be a long sleepless night for young Jake.
*Line Break*
The night Jake received the book was the first of two events that changed his future irrevocably.
Through the knowledge found in the book, Jake experimented and progressed with his own abilities to a great extent.
He didn't master his abilities as a Metamorph, no, he was still very much a novice. However, he found the way forward to properly train and understand his powers.
Mana, which is a commonly accepted term for the units of energy that generate Magic, was in constant flux beneath his skin. Through the core of his mana, which connected his soul and body, mana poured in at a consistent rate to enrich his physical form.
When he changed, the issues with mass and function were supported by the mana passively. To perform a change however, he needed to know 'how' it worked.
Why? Jake assumed it was a difference in cost.
If his body had ten units of mana, and he wanted to turn his hand into a cats paw, it might cost twenty units of mana to perform, so it simply wouldn't work and just leave him drained.
But if his mind could understand 'what' he wanted to change, rather than just the final image, the cost of mana would drop down.
Theoretically to the point of a single unit if he knew the subject well enough. Or even less as seen with his color changing fingernails that he managed to do for hours without much effect.
So it was a matter of knowledge Vs cost that defined his ability as a Metamorph. His mind was the key to using his powers, and his 'pool' of mana was his limits.
Hypothetically speaking, if he had endless mana, he could turn into anything without knowing how it worked.
Jake felt this theory was enforced because he could sense how the mana moved inside him. How much of it was consumed before and after knowing more about what he wanted to change.
Furthermore, there was a great question floating in his mind.
'Do I even need a wand?'
The idea of a wand was to focus magic by drawing it from your core, into your arm, and focus it through the magical conduit to perform magic.
Evidence of this was shown when Jake watched Uncle perform magic. It was like a water tap was turned on and flowed down installed pipes to exit through the wands tip.
But for himself, mana was everywhere inside him. From his toes to the tips of his hair.
If he wanted shorter hair, it grew shorter. Longer hair, and it was longer.
So the question was if he even needed a wand to cast a spell. The answer he got was 'inconclusive.' Jake didn't know how to properly cast a spell in the first place.
Imagination, will, and energy. Throw in some wand movements and a spell word. It sounds great in theory but it just didn't click well for him.
He needed a book or example, something more than theoretical knowledge. And more than that, he needed to understand his physiology better.
No matter what he did, he couldn't make mana exit his skin. It was trapped inside of himself like snow in a snow globe.
So Jake had his work cut out for him. And he made notes to himself in his journal for what to focus on.
Learn my limits. What can and can't I turn into? How big can I become? How small?
Learn how much I need to know to lower the cost of a transformation. Get books on physiology. Human and other species.
Figure out how to make my mana leave my body.
Find more wizards to study.
…..
And along with the to do list was his daily schedule list. The real world stuff aside, he had things he wanted to remind himself to do every day.
Expend all mana before bed. See if it expands my internal pool.
Spend at least an hour before bed consciously changing a part of myself.
Meditate on sensing and moving the mana within my body for at least one hour every day.
…..
There was much to do, and with everything he learned, the list just never seemed to stop.
Jake was absorbed like a man obsessed from the day he got Basicae Magicae, and it was only reinforced a week later when Mr. Walker began his magical studies. Not to perform magic, but to understand it, and the society he would one day be entering.
And like that, time flew.
A few months later, while Jake and James found themselves in the gym's boxing area, a more private corner of the gym away from prying eyes, on their usual Sunday schedule, the second event that changed Jake's life unfolded.
*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*
"Good! Just like that! Keep up the combo and don't forget to breath!"
Jake was sweating buckets as he went at the bag while trying to keep the correct form as his uncle went at a bag to the side at the same tempo to both show and encourage Jake.
*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*
Throwing his last jab with all he had, Jake panted and dropped his arms, thankfully having enough energy left to dodge the swinging bag on its return trip.
Uncle only helped him out that first day before leaving him to experience what happens when he didn't dodge on his own.
I.E. an eighty pound leather bag to the face and feeling like a truck hit his eight year old frame. Uncle laughed up a storm at the sight.
A strong hand landed on his small shoulder and shook his tired frame. "Good run lad, you're getting better with every week. Don't forget to breath and keep those feet moving. A target that stands still is easy pickings."
Jake nodded through his breaths to show he understood when a clapping noise and friendly voice called from the side.
"*Clap* *Clap*, a good effort! You taking on coaching now old man?"
The old wolf's hand tightened on Jake's shoulder for a moment as he turned before his grip relaxed and a smile replaced his frown. "By god Ted, is that you?"
The man addressed as Ted laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "Ahaha, good to see you James."
The two met and clasped hands with smiles before Mr. Walker slapped his shoulder. "Look at you man, haven't seen your sorry ass in years. What have you done to yourself? Are you pregnant?"
Ted gave James a humorous look and patted his slightly protruding stomach. "Haha maybe I am, maybe I am. I've been a bit busy if you don't recall. Not as much time as I would have liked to get in here."
Jake studied the man as he spoke.
A tall frame around six feet, warm amber eyes on a round face with light brown hair, and a slightly protruded gut.
He looked like a stereotypical friendly neighborhood dad in his thirties.
Uncle clicked his tongue at Ted and shook his head. "That is no excuse for this state boy, we need to whip you back in shape before that thorned flower of a wife of yours does it for you."
Ted laughed rather than be offended and nodded. "Your telling me! Hahaha, she was damn near beating me with a stick to get back in here. But between the crazy work and the kid, I just didn't have the time. She's just missing the old six pack if you know what I mean.
And would you stop calling me boy! I'm a grown man."
Uncle scoffed and slapped his shoulder. "Ha! You pups will always be boy's to me. But you did good Ted, be proud of the man you became since I last saw you."
Ted flushed a bit and nodded with a smile. "Thank you. Andy and I still owe you a lot for all the help."
"Bah, whats done is done and you paid your bill, we're square son." Uncle waved his hand like it was nothing and Ted just shook his head while muttering about stubborn old fossils.
The two spoke a bit more while Jake watched and tried not to intrude. To be honest, he wasn't really paying attention to Ted.
While working in the gym over the months, they had seen plenty of friendly faces drop by to talk to the old wolf. He had been coming to the gym for a long time and if people didn't know him from out of the gym, they knew him as a gruff old boxer who gave out tips if you asked.
It wasn't every time, but it happened.
Jake was more interested in hearing more about the old wolfs past that he only got bits and pieces of from stories and comments.
Eventually though, the conversation winded down and Ted looked back at Jake. "Ah right, I got lost for a moment there. Did you take on a boxing student James?"
Uncle chuckled and patted Jakes shoulder fondly. "No, I found a little brat with a similar background to our own and couldn't help myself."
Ted's eyes widened slightly before he looked closer at Jake with sympathy and slightly older eyes that had Jake raising a brow. Ted chuckled and shook off the look before leaning over with an extended hand.
"You're a survivor eh? I can respect that son. The names Ted Tonks and once upon a time I was also a street urchin."
Jake's eyes widened in surprise and caused Ted and the old wolf to laugh but while they thought it was because of the street urchin comment, it was really because of his name.
'Holy shit, it's Tonks dad!'
Jake reached over and shook the man's hand while quickly focusing on the man with his mana senses and found a core along with the same 'piping' that went down his right arm that Uncle had.
"It's uh, nice to meet you sir."
Ted chuckled and stood back up. "No need for that sir stuff. Just Ted is fine young man." Jake nodded and turned to look at uncle.
"So uh… are you two old friends from Hogwarts or something?"
Uncle scoffed while Ted laughed at that. "Ha! As if this boy was my age. Another hundred years and he can call himself my equal."
Ted gave uncle an annoyed look. "You would still be older than me in a hundred years."
"Exactly! So you will always be a boy to me."
Ted shook his head and turned back to Jake. "No, the old timers a few generations removed from my own. He helped my wife and I during a… rough time. He really saved our butts and we owe him a lot for it." He finished with a look at the old wolf that had him clicking his tongue.
"Enough of that owing nonsense." He turned to Jake. "Remember I told you about how disappearing for seven years tends to make it hard to get back into the muggle world?"
Jake nodded. That was part of his story when he gave Jake options on what education option to take.
"Well I used to help a few lost fools who kicked an iron plate while unprepared. This one is one of them."
It was Ted's turn to scoff this time. "A 'few'? This old timer gave dozens of muggleborns a chance to have a new life when the other world chewed us up and spat us out. Gave us step by step instructions on how to get re-fitted and educated so we could get jobs, find homes, and have a stable family.
I became a damn lawyer thanks to him. Albeit one that works in both worlds. His little side business used to be nicknamed the 'Muggleborn Underground Railroad' by those he saved. Some even from real heat and trouble."
Before he could go on, uncle slapped his shoulder. "Bah, enough of that old history. Things aren't as bad as they once were, let the past be."
Ted rubbed his shoulder and nodded. "Fine, fine." He turned back to Jake. "Things are better now that the muggle world has advanced so rapidly. Loads of ways to help people are funded by the country. It was different a decade ago. Hell, it was a different world for the old timer in his time."
The older man grunted in acknowledgement. "Aye, very different. But enough of all this. Did you come here to talk or work? That beauty waiting at home for ya will beat your ass if you don't come home smelling of blood and sweat. Get moving!"
Jake was amused at how quickly Ted responded to the command. He didn't interrupt the tale but he was happy to listen. Learning more about the old man was something he enjoyed. Thinking about everything he had done to help him already; Jake had no doubts in seeing the old wolf helping others escape the wizarding world.
It brought a lot more light as well as questions to his story.
Questions that ended as soon as the old wolf focused his gaze back on him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"Well?! Are you just going to stand there lad? Your burning daylight!"
Jake snapped out of it and jumped back into going at the bag. The old man followed on the bag next to him.
'Damn. I can't tell if he really didn't like wasting time or if he was embarrassed by Ted's praise. Maybe both haha.'
A sharp look was sent his way and he stopped thinking to act.
An hour later a sweating and panting Jake was sitting on a bench next to an equally exhausted looking Ted.
"*Huff*, I forgot how much of a taskmaster that old wolf was. *Huff*, you have my condolences kid."
Jake chuckled at took a sip of water. "*Huff*, I'm fine. I enjoy this."
Ted gave him a onceover at that comment and nodded. "You know, I've got a daughter your age, a real hellion with all that energy in her. It might be a promising idea to get her in here to burn some of it off.
Heavens know her mother would enjoy some free time while Nym put her energy to good use."
Jake perked up at that. 'The same age?'
Uncle came up behind them with a towel. "Aye, it's important to have an outlet. And if you got a daughter of your own, best to teach her how to throw a solid one."
Ted laughed at that. "Ha! I hear you there. Hm, what days do you two come by?"
Jake found himself answering a bit faster than normal before he knew it. "Saturdays and Sundays, around noon for a few hours."
The old wolf gave Jake a curious look at the rapid answer but dropped it.
Ted looked over at them. "Would you two mind if I brought her by sometimes? Maybe seeing someone her own age going at it will interest her more than just me trying to get her to do it."
Uncle didn't seem to mind and let Jake answer. Jake seeing that felt warm from the support, showing the older man would follow whatever he wanted, and nodded. "Sure, I don't mind."
"And you James?"
"Aye, do as you please. Another pup who can throw a proper punch in a positive direction is always a good thing in my book."
Ted stood up with a laugh. "Haha great! I appreciate it, she would run circles around me before I even knew what happened. It's tough being the nice parent."
Jake and the old wolf chuckled at that.
"I should get going but I'll see you two next week. Jake, it was a pleasure to meet you. And James, expect a dinner invite at the risk of Andy's wrath. She's the tough parent for a reason."
He shook Jakes hand once more and clasped hands with uncle as he spoke.
Jake nodded. "Likewise."
Uncle grimaced and nodded. "Hm, give her my best."
Ted laughed a last time but didn't say anything else before he took off after seeing the time on the wall.
Jake turned to his uncle in question. "Why did you grimace at the invitation?"
The old wolf sighed and patted Jakes shoulder as he turned them to toward the exit. "Son, I'll give you two pieces of advice you should keep firmly within you.
'A mastery in potions does not translate to a mastery in the kitchen.'
And. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman.'"
"I thought it was supposed to be a 'woman scorned'?"
"No son, it's just woman. Full stop. And it goes doubly so for any of the current generations three Black sisters."
Jake looked up at that. 'Any of the 'three'? Oh hell, I'm in a world where Bellatrix isn't in prison, aren't I?'
While the old wolf expounded age old wisdom and Jake was lost in thought about what kind of AU world he ended up in, neither thought more on the deal they made with Ted Tonks.
And come next week, Jake was going to have his life turned upside down by a certain pink haired ball of energy.
For good or bad, had yet to be seen.
Chapter end.
Notes: Here is the uninterrupted translation of the old English in the book for anyone who wants to look again. When I first wrote it in English, I wondered if being more exact to the story would be better for immersion, so I changed it to show what a real 17th century old English would look like. At least I think it is, hope some of you enjoyed it. I've had 50/50 reactions in beta runs from people who love and hate it.
"Chapter 1: What are we?
A silly question perhaps. Most of our kind will tell you, 'magic is magic' and a 'wizard is a wizard,' but such an answer never satisfied me.
To answer the question of what magic is and what we are, we must look inward rather than outward. The world assuredly holds many answers however we may spend a lifetime searching for them and fail, while our own bodies hold the best answers.
Our bodies are our greatest and deepest connection to magic. Not our wand, another focus, or our spells. Our bodies are the most special, because of our connection to our soul.
We are a magical species. Don't let those stuck up old fools tell you we are descended from gods or such nonsense. We are what happens to muggles, or humans, when magic intermixes.
The same way magic intermixed with a horse and it became a Unicorn, or a Thestral, or any number of horse type magical beasts.
Magic is a phantasmal thing. It alters reality on a core level, with beings altered by it able to reproduce as if they were a natural part of life.
And perhaps they were since magic is a natural part of life.
Magic changed us. It has been assessed before, rather gruesomely I must add, about what happens when a wizard attempts to flow mana through a muggle.
If the wizard wills the mana to form a spell, the spell will take hold. However, if the mana has no will, the muggle will almost inevitably, explosively, die.
Their bodies cannot contain mana like us because mana and magic flows through the soul. Our bodies have been changed by magic to allow mana to flow from our soul into a metaphysical core, and into our bodies.
A muggle has no connection between body and soul, and therefore the mana will build up in the physical shell that is unprepared for it, and…well…explode.
Such tests have been performed annually, every decade, for centuries, by the Rocker family. However, despite documented proof, our kind is at war with itself in regards to the question.
The majority wish to believe they are gods only matched by their own kind, while a minority have broader outlooks. I fear generations of magic users have dulled certain progressive traits among our species.
But even among both sides, so many are so quick to deny anything that relates to the 'soul.' Believing it is heresy to even study such a thing. They label it 'dark' and 'forbidden' without an understanding of why. They are terrified by the fear of the unknown.
Creatures such as Dementors only enforce their fears, as when one is 'kissed' their soul is eaten, leaving a perfectly intact, functioning, brain dead body behind. The body could be kept alive until it's natural death. But the mind and soul are long since gone, leaving an empty shell.
However, I am one of the few who offer another hypothesis. The soul is intricate and beyond much of what any researcher truly understands. So how can it simply be eaten?
What if Dementors do not devour the soul, but in fact devour the mana 'core.' As in the connection a wizard has with their soul that allows magic to flow through. With such a vital part of us gone, it would be as if our entire system shuts down and indeed dies. Or believes itself to be dead, and therefore we are dead.
Mana is to a wizard what air or water is to a muggle.
A few examples of this hypothesis being true is how Dementors ignore muggles. If they simply wanted to eat souls, why not go after them? But they do not.
Or how a house elf, who is a being sustained by mana, leaves no body behind when 'kissed.'
I do not delve into this subject for the interest in dementors, but for my interest in understanding what magic is to me and what we are.
We are a magical species. I say it again. Magic is the beating heart of what makes us, us.
I hope this account of my experiences survives the ages and have taken liberty to enchant as many protections as possible on it from threats to its parchment.
In the next few chapters, I shall delve into my understanding of magic, specifically mana, and what I feel are the true 'basics' of what they are."
-End Notes.
