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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 saviours.
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 Phoenix 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.
It had been roughly four years since Alaric had begun practising his wandless magic, and his studies were going fast with his grandmother instructing him on magic.
By his estimation, he was already on third-year material when it came to magical theory but his studies in wandless magic were going a bit slower. Not due to a lack of talent in the branch of magic but due to its inherent nature and the way wizards manifested it.
Wandless magic may not be on par with the miracles adults around him could casually conjure but it was something truly extraordinary, a wonder that amazed him every time it was used. In his mind, magic remained every bit as miraculous as his reincarnation. He could not believe how much potential he had now— every dream, every future, every obstacle, all of them were only bound by the extent his magic would grow in the future.
He had already figured out his major problem over the course of these four years.
He had no innate control over his magic, no muscle memory as adults around him did. Most of the subjects he studied for were mental even though he had not been slacking these four years, not practical. He had watched fully grown wizards use magic every day for the majority of his new life until he reached the point where he could understand each of their actions and movements.
He had already begun to grasp how magic fundamentally felt, a sense that even the most experienced wizards seldom developed according to the records inside his Family Library. To him, calling on his magic was akin to drawing water from a deep but full well. It was not enough to simply open up my reserves, he had to coax it out just as well. The hard part was making sure to only draw out the precise amount needed and nothing more— too minute and nothing would happen, too much and he would end up wasting magic.
Most people did not really care if they wasted a bit of magic but the very thought was sacrilegious to him. It may have been because of his experiences in using wandless magic but he could not imagine allowing a single manifested drop to go to waste. He had first managed to access his magic when he was just seven, and he could not begin to describe how much work it had taken back then. He had been forced to learn to ration his magic back then and the practice had become a habit at some point. Over time, he had learned that a person's magical powers could be measured through two primary methods.
The first was magical conductivity, which was the amount of magic one's body could manifest at any given moment and determined the level of spells one could use. One needed to have a high magical capacity to use advanced magics, because if a wizard could not pour enough magic into a spell fast enough then it was simply beyond them.
Then there was magical density which determined the size and intensity of magic performed. The denser a wizard's magic was, the more potent its effects and manifestation would be.
With very few exceptions, magical conductivity and magical density did not vary much from person to person, it was almost universally the same no matter who the wizard was, though there were ways around it since the amount of magic one could naturally manifest could be improved through practice and it's density accumulated by gathering and folding magic onto itself as it manifested before releasing it.
Magic was a phenomenon that could be moulded into anything the user wanted to, and most adults could manifest magic as naturally as they moved because magical capacity only increased through continuous usage. If magic was an event, then what he had to master was recreation of the cause which resulted in its manifestation and that was akin to a muscle that could be developed through practice.
The density of one's magic was natural and determined by birth but the ease with which wizards could manifest it could be improved. Of course, this was true only for wizards who had reached magical maturity at the age of eleven.
His grandmother had designed his courses in the same way professors did for students at Hogwarts and Alaric could proudly say that he could give any third-year at Hogwarts a run for their money when it came to magical theory and arithmancy. He was even planning to try some other subjects that were not taught conventionally at Hogwarts such as enchantment and spell creating.
He had grown as a person as he had been exposed to magic. Alaric had once been an ordinary man, who longed for greatness and purpose just as any other. It was the reason why his position as just a computer engineer had not been enough. He had always wanted to become more.
But all that changed one day, a single disease was all it took to end his story.
It had not mattered how many friends or family he had once made, he now knew everyone he had ever loved had eventually embraced death and was reborn as someone else completely unrelated to who they once were. Everything he had ever done— his memories, his hopes, and even his dreams were gone as if they were mere tears in the rain. He could not explain the feeling that overcame his mind the moment he thought about it, a blend of deep-seated longing and nostalgia.
His new chance would not be the same. Magic had allowed him to be great in a way that was beyond the grasp of ordinary humans, it gave him a power beyond money or influence. It was a power that existed something beyond the normal grasp of mankind, a power unmatched by any another that held power over fortune and death, that presided over time and dimensions.
Magic gave him the strength to rebel against nature itself and Alaric welcomed it as gladly as he could. That was also part of the reason he was so eager to get into Hogwarts. Even if staying with his grandparents was a nice experience, Alaric was fairly restricted in the branches of magic he could look into at his age.
He was only allowed a wand when he had turned eleven and he wanted to start practicing the branches of magic that required one. Alaric had even made extensive tables of topics he wanted to explore and magics he wanted to learn.
Wrapped up in the blankets of his bed, he faced away from the window and stared at the dancing shadows of his bedroom wall. He was alone in his room as he usually was when he slept, but he knew he would not be for long. Every few minutes he glanced around, looking to see if it had arrived yet and in between he would count the beats of his heart to pass the time as he strained his ears trying to listen to any signs of the night's expected, visitor.
Tomorrow, he would finally turn eleven years old.
His birthdays were usually formal events that he was beginning to learn to loathe. As the heir to a noble and ancient house, he did not have the privilege of having a quiet birthday party. No, every year he was forced to dress up in the most uncomfortable clothing imaginable and then paraded around like a doll in front of esteemed guests.
In any other circumstance, he would not have given any mind to his upcoming birthday other than mild annoyance at the indignity he would no doubt be forced to experience. This year would not have been any different had it not been for the fact that his Hogwarts letter would arrive today.
Truth be told, the fragmented memories had made this a highly anticipated event even if he knew its coursework was designed to accommodate ordinary children and Alaric was well aware that he was the farthest thing possible from being either ordinary or untrained. The few things that he would be taught there could have just as easily been learned at home, from either the library or his grandmother.
He could see it happening if he asked for it despite his grandfather's conservative views. Maybe it was because he was aprodigybut he had learned that so long as he upheld his duties as the heir to the House and continued to maintain his progress in training, his grandparents would more or less give in to any of his demands. Well, reasonable ones at least. Yet for some reason, childish passion occupied his thoughts when he thought about going to Hogwarts. The mixture of anticipation and excitement in him was so great it was all he could do to remain awake, waiting for that famed letter to arrive.
Through the ordeal of his death and his subsequent awakening, Alaric had gained an unshakable determination to lead a great life this time, experiencing everything this magical world had. How could he not look forward to studying at the most magical academy among them all?
So when an owl arrived carrying a brown envelope emblazed with the famous Hogwarts crest on the morning of his birthday, he was beyond excited.
His magical journey had just begun.
Thanks for reading...