I own nothing...
It had taken him a long time to accept his awakening as reality and move on but it was not as if he could do anything else anyway.
Perhaps the reason why he found it so easy to accept what had happened was that he remembered his slow death all too clearly.
It was rather hard to forget the constant agony of cancer slowly destroying his body over the course of several months. The searing pain alongside the numbing acceptance remained fresh in his mind. Even thinking about it felt akin to placing his hand on a hot iron, his mind instinctively snapping away and scrambling to find something else to focus on anything else rather than dwelling on the memories.
The painful memories lingered inside his mind, remaining at the forefront of his thoughts and refusing to let go. What was reincarnation after going through something like that what was reincarnation? Nothing.
It was a second chance he was grateful for.
He once wanted to be a hero. He wanted to go on grand adventures, to save the world, to explore lost ruins, and to save beautiful damsels in distress. But those dreams had slowly been abandoned as he grew older.
However, those lost dreams had suddenly turned possible in this magical world. His awakening had doused the darkness that had gradually his thoughts as he grew older. His dreams extinguished by his painful experiences were quickly reignited once again by the strongest emotion known to man since his creation— hope.
It had only been seven days since Alaric had been reincarnated into this world, but he had managed to make some sense out of the fragmented memories he had received upon his awakening.
Besides, even though his broken memories were that of an adult male his body certainly was not. He had awakened inside a child's body and along with it came all the instincts and emotions of one, even simple things such as hunger and boredom could frustrate him to the point of tears.
It seemed that along with learning the basics of this world which he had long forgotten, he was also going to have to learn how to control his mind from scratch. Going through puberty all over again would certainly be troublesome, but at least he knew what to expect this time.
Having to hold his tongue as his grandfather spoke about magic and work had proven to be just as frustrating, but he knew that he could not give any indication that he was anything beyond an extraordinarily curious seven-year-old.
The existence of soul magic which could anchor the soul to the world and the fact that two souls could exist in a single body together told him that the idea of reincarnation was not entirely unthinkable if the soul was anchored to the world, nor was it unimaginable to push one soul into another body altogether.
If one could manipulate souls but not avert death, then would it not be much more advantageous to embrace death in a way that allowed one to preserve their original personality and memories and be reborn again?
It had not taken him more than a few days to understand that whatever method was used to bring him here was in serious violation of wizarding laws which barely tolerated dark magic, time magic, dimensional magic, and soul magic— much less something that seemed to be a combination of all four at a glance. Besides, he was sure that his circumstances would definitely interest the Unspeakables.
Alaric was certain they were not pleasant wizards to deal with, going by the way his grandfather spoke of the Department of Mysteries.
He had thought about researching the mysterious phenomena that had caused his awakening but the potential dangers had made him place those plans on the backseat for the foreseeable future.
He shook his head— he was Alaric Vincent Peverell now, that was his name and would remain so for a very long time. Maybe someday he might be able to travel to his other home again but that day would not come for a long time. It was something that he had eventually come to accept.
Moreover, he had to be very heartless to remain unchanged by the love showered upon him for the last seven years by people who thought of him as family, people who loved him unconditionally and thought the world of him.
Few though they might be, all his family members were all amazing people.
Both his parents had passed away during the last wizarding war which was why he had been raised by his grandparents instead. They rarely talked about them but he had seen his grandparents being overwhelmed by emotions he could not clearly explain on rare occasions, a blend of deep-seated longing and nostalgia.
His grandfather, Octavius Peverell was a cold man who revealed his gentle heart only to those he loved. A pureblood from an ancient lineage, he was infamous in higher circles for his cold demeanour and enchantments. The man was also a master of transfiguration and sometimes entertained Alaric by staging fights between conjured dragons and warlocks.
His grandmother, Elenor Peverell kind to everyone but had a vindictive side that rarely emerged. Born to a muggleborn mother, she was an amazingly thoughtful woman who had never foregone her mundane roots despite being a part of the wizarding world. She was the one responsible for his studies and taught him several subjects such as mathematics, language, culture, and dancing.
Some of his lessons were quite invigorating, focusing on subjects he'd not learned before but most of them were rudimentary and he had quickly decided that he was not going to torture himself by learning subjects he already knew— pretending that he could not understand basic concepts such as counting, addition, and multiplication was almost a nightmare that was quickly bringing his already unstable emotions to a frustrating extreme.
He knew that he would have to prove that he was dedicated to studying and assuring his grandmother that he could learn on his own and asking for a test every month along with materials that he needed to learn or read. He was prepared to discard his pride as an adult and throw a nasty tantrum over this if necessary.
However, he did not think he could escape his writing lessons anytime soon. He had been trying to get accustomed to the usage of feathers and parchments for writing, one of the few subjects that he had been seriously studying since his handwriting had always been abominable.
The agenda he planned to work on as soon he had enough free time was magic, more specifically— wandless magic.
Alaric had trouble deciding where to start so he had asked his grandfather to get him a book on wandless magic and the man moved his head to the side in confusion before saying, "I would get some for you, my boy."
Yes, it had been as easy as asking for a book.
Alaric knew why his grandfather had not disproved his request because of his frequent trips to the family library— wandless magic was apparently a great way to hone the usage of magic in general and also helped enhance a wizard's willpower, a helpful tool to control magic itself.
He had also discovered that wandless magic was something that was also almost useless beyond honing magical control if one did not have a Warlock's level of power.
Even then, it could only be used at most for grandstanding at most though there were indeed some spells that even normal wizards could learn to cast wandlessly through practice. Apparition was one such magic, but it was said to be dangerous if not done properly and he had experienced that personally.
Alaric had decided that he would start working on his plans whenever the healers declared him to be completely healed. He had already visited St Mungo's with his grandfather the previous day for a general checkup and had been declared perfectly fine after a long and thorough inspection.
Deciding that he wanted to start early, Alaric got out of his bed to begin his morning run so that he could begin experimenting with magic early.
Yeah, Alaric here is going to be a Peverell.
Thanks for reading.