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"Please, grandmother," Alaric whined, giving his grandmother the best puppy look he could muster even though he knew that she would not budge on this matter so simply.
He took a seat at the kitchen table when he received no response and watched his grandmother prepare breakfast, having just returned from his morning run.
He was not overly fond of physical exercise, sometimes finding it every bit as boring as laying in his bed as a patient had been. But he had read that it was crucial to get into good physical shape as a growing boy so he ran regularly, wanting to get into the habit early on.
Elenor sighed. She had had this conversation with her grandson far too many times. "Alaric, no. You are much too young to start learning magic."
It had been seven years since the fateful night in which her only son and his wife had been murdered in a night that had shaken the magical world. A lot had changed in the world and not all for the better. Following the devastating destruction in Helga's Creek, the Dark Lord had vanished overnight and a newborn had been proclaimed the wizarding world's saviour.
Octavius had wanted to drop some of the charms on the manor and continue with their lives normally but had to change his decision because of circumstances. They had been forced to keep the charm up for longer than they had intended when several infamous Death Eaters went on a rampage across magical Britain that were only now being captured whereas most others managed to avoid prison by claiming the Imperius.
The fate of the Longbottoms had scared several old houses, and the economy of magical Britain had almost stagnated as a result which was what finally spurred the ministry into action. Things had only started improving when Alaric had turned five and they finally dropped the wards by then. Elenor was rather proud to say that they had raised Alaric well and it brought her great joy to see him grow into a cute young boy who was extremely interested in magic.
But some of his requests had started to surprise her. Just recently he demanded that he complete most of his primary education by himself and now the boy wanted to start learning magic at such a young age.
"But grandfather said he learned magic before he went to Hogwarts," Alaric argued.
"That was completely different, young man," She countered, knowing that her grandson was fond of her husband's tales and remembered each one of them. "He was almost ten at the time, grown enough to practice rudimentary magic without causing damaging backlashes to his body."
"But I am seven and that's so close to ten," The young boy stated, crossing his arms. even as she reached over the counter to fondly touch his head. This was nothing compared to the menace his father had been at his age, and the boy had not even realized that pouting in mock anger only made him look cute in her elderly eyes.
"I would talk to Octavian about this," She finally relented, stroking her grandson's head one last time before looking around. The mention of her husband had caused Elenor to search around the room curiously. "Where is your grandfather? I'm surprised he isn't out here arguing along with you about this."
Octavian could be quite the traditionalist when it came to magic education, even if he had been the one to encourage his early learning.
The old man was fine with his grandson being curious about obsolete branches such as wandless magic but he wanted his grandson to start his formal magical education only when he reached magical maturity at the age of eleven— turning even more adamant about this by the fact that Alaric's first bout of accidental magic had injured him so dangerously.
The two had argued about this many times which usually ended with her grandson's magic lashing out accidentally when the older man vehemently refused to budge on this, nothing too harmful so far— Alaric had removed all of Octavian's hair once and turned his skin into various shades of purple on numerous occasions.
It had never escalated any further, the old man could barely stop himself from doting on his grandson and the boy was simply too fond of his grandfather for even his magic to do anything more harmful than embarrass him. Elenor honestly found the whole thing adorable but she never voiced the thought out loud, knowing both of them were far too proud to ever accept the label.
"He's gone to check the pheonix reserves," Alaric answered, face turning innocent as he glanced up at her with his big amethyst eyes, "He promised to teach me how to fly a real broom during the Yule break."
Elenor immediately felt herself pause, all too aware that her husband found it hard to refuse most of her grandson's requests and would much sooner revert into a helpless man when faced with his innocent eyes than refuse him outright.
"You know, I would not spend so much time trying to get grandfather to buy some real brooms if you started teaching me magic," Alaric told her, ignoring his grandmother's increasing indignation. He knew that she was not overly fond of brooms partly because of her muggle roots and partly because his father had broken too many bones during his matches at school tournaments, finding them quite dangerous instead.
Elenor stared at her grandson for a moment as she mulled over his words. Her husband had indeed wanted to get Alaric a proper racing broom for Christmas this year, and she had barely managed to get him to admit that seven was a bit too young for a boy to start flying.
But she was certain that he might just try to get around her verdict by allowing Alaric to fly his brooms instead. Thinking of her only grandson flying around on those twigs of death and recklessly playing Quidditch, terrified her more than she was willing to admit.
But perhaps she could prevent her grandson from going in that direction by moving his interest into something more productive. Though actually trying any wand magic was certainly not going to happen anytime soon, she could indeed teach him some theory alongside a few practical subjects that did not require proper spellwork such as potions and arithmancy.
"Alaric, it is wrong of you to use your grandfather's recklessness to get what you want," Elenor admonished, well aware of her grandson's tricks who might look innocent but could be as cunning as a Slytherin even on the worst of his days, "But I suppose I could begin to teach you some magic."
Even though he was being chastised, Alaric could not help but let a small grin of joy spread across his face at his grandmother's words. He had sought to practice wandless magic in the privacy of his room, trying every method he could think of— from coaxing his magic gently to expressing frustration against it.
Nothing seemed to work permanently and the methods described in the book by his grandfather only left him perplexed and defeated. He could occasionally manifest wandless magic, but it happened randomly and what he wanted was consistency.
The book had described wandless magic not as a proof of power but a proof of intent and focus, one that apparently involved controlled yet unfocused use of one's magic.
One could simply manifest magic into existence through a wand's focused intent, but doing so wandlessly required the wizard to focus the intent and conjure magic using his own body as a medium to perform the spell— wandless magic was not about waving a stick and waiting for the spell to manifest, it was about focusing intent and magic without any focus.
The books told him to find magic inside himself but knew nothing about where to look for it.
All he knew was that magic was a phenomenon of nature used by wizards to create unnatural miracles, an event instead of a power that existed inside a core or something just as ludicrous. Wizards and witches were merely the channels through which magic manifested.
He could barely understand what his books meant they wanted readers to feel magic and he had learned that most wizards were frighteningly ignorant about magic, him being no exception. He wanted to change that but these wizarding books really needed more precise instructions and magic itself was hard to put into words even for masters of literature.
His frequent bouts of accidental were yet another reminder of his ignorance. He could not understand why he could use magic randomly at times when trying to perform controlled bouts of magic had required herculean focus in comparison, demanding much in the way of emotions and concentration.
The ease with which accidental magic came to him in comparison to wandless magic only served to increase his wonder, it strengthened his amazement and fed his curiosity.
"But there will be rules," Elenor continued, breaking him out of his thoughts. "First, there would be no wands involved. You are just too young to adequately control one right now and you could hurt yourself if you try to use one. That means you'll only be learning magical theory"
Seeing that Alaric did not exactly look pleased at the prospect of not being able to get a wand early, she pressed on. "You would be learning some practical subjects such as potions and runes from me. But under any circumstances, you never not try to practice something on your own without me being there. Is that understood?"
His disappointed look quickly changed into one full of delight as he nodded his head, and Elenor couldn't help but smile upon seeing the wide grin that spread across his face.
"Go wash your hands and finish your breakfast first. We'll start your lessons this weekend."
Elenor watched as Alaric quickly ran out of the room, shaking her head and wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into as she went into the kitchen to make herself some tea.
Her grandson's excited expression had reminded her so much of herself. She had also wanted to know everything about magic and was upset when she found out that she could not get a wand till she went to Hogwarts. How much their lives had changed since then.
Thanks for reading.