I own nothing...
It took Alaric a long time to accept his awakening as reality and finally move on...
He'd laughed when finally brought inside the privacy of his room, a slow disbelieving humour that had escalated into the hysterics of a madman. For who else but a madman would even so much as entertain the very notion of his situation? An adolescent daydreamer perhaps, but he was anything but that, and no fleeting afternoon fantasy was as real and vivid as the world he saw before him.
A part of him wanted to question his awakening but a greater part seemed almost accepting of it, almost as if his mind had already accepted this new reality as his own. It was a strange experience, to feel such clashing emotions at once as a thousand thoughts he could neither recognise nor understand raced through his mind. But there was not much he could do about this anyway.
Perhaps the reason why he himself almost resigned to this world this world was because he remembered his slow death all too clearly— it was rather hard to forget the constant agony of cancer slowly destroying his young body over the course of several months. The agonising pain of slow decay alongside the numbing acceptance of death slowly tightening its hold around his neck remained fresh in his mind. Even thinking about his final moment burned as if he had placed 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.
But they 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? Nothing.
A part of Alaric could not help but imagine what he would do with this blessing, and emotionally found himself struck by a profound sense of wonder. 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 clouded his thoughts as he grew older. His dreams, once extinguished by his cruel nature of the world quickly reignited once again by the other 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'd already started to make some sense out of the fragmented memories inside his head that he'd barely remembered upon awakening.
Alaric had wanted to get a grasp of himself sooner, but gradually found that he could not. His broken memories might be those of an adult but his body certainly was not— he had awakened inside a seven-year-old's body and alongside came all the instincts and emotions of one, for he'd discovered that even simple things such as hunger and boredom could frustrate him to the point of tears.
It felt almost overwhelming to slowly realize he'd also have to learn how to control his mind from scratch, but all frustrations had soon been overshadowed by excitement over the world opened up to him. He refused to trivialise the hand that'd been dealt to him, going through puberty all over again might certainly be troublesome but at least he knew what to expect this time.
The next thing that came to his mind then was the impulsive desire to learn more about the mysterious phenomena that had caused his awakening in this world, but the dangers involved had made him place those plans in the backseat for the foreseeable future.
It had not taken him more than a few days of covert research to understand that whatever method was used to awaken him in this world was in serious violation of wizarding laws. The ministry could barely tolerate dark magic, and had imposed severe restrictions on magics that could meddle with time, dimensions, and the soul— he had no desire to learn what they'd think of when presented with something that seemed to be a combination of all four at a glance. Moreover, he was sure that his circumstances would garner the interest of the Unspeakables and Alaric was certain they were not pleasant wizards to deal with, going by the way his grandfather spoke of the Department of Mysteries.
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 would not come for a long time. It was something that he would eventually come to accept.
More importantly, this world might be new to him but he would have to be heartless indeed to remain unchanged by the love showered upon him for the last seven years by the grandparents who loved him unconditionally and thought the world of him. Few though they might be, his family was full of amazing people.
Both his parents had met their end during the last wizarding war, and he'd been raised by his grandparents instead from the tender age of infancy. They rarely talked about his father and mother but he'd seen them being overwhelmed by unseen emotions on the few occasions he asked them about the couple that had brought him into this world, 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, was 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 the lessons were invigorating, based on subjects he'd not even heard of before but most of them were rudimentary and he'd quickly decided that he was not going to torture himself by learning subjects he already knew once again— pretending that he could not understand basic concepts such as counting, addition, and multiplication was a nightmare that was bringing his already unstable emotions to a frustrating extreme.
He knew that to escape basic maths, he would have to prove to his grandmother that he was that he could learn on his own and already had several plans ready to that end but he knew he could not escape his writing lessons anytime soon. It had turned into one of the few subjects that he'd been seriously studying since his handwriting had always been abominable, he'd been trying to get accustomed to the usage of feathers and parchments but found little success in that regard.
What he really wanted to work on as soon as he had enough free time though, was magic. More specifically— wandless magic.
Alaric had trouble deciding where to start and after several frustrating days spent grasping at dead ends, he'd decided to throw caution to the wind and straight up ask his grandfather to get him books on wandless magic. He'd thought of a thousand and more reactions to the sudden demand but the old man had simply moved his head to the side in confusion before saying, "I would get one for you, my boy."
Yes, it had been as easy as asking for a book.
Alaric understood why his grandfather had not questioned his request several days later during one of his frequent trips to the family library where numerous anscenstors who'd once been alumini of the famous Ilvermorny had left behind several records and journals— he'd learned from their observations that learning wandless magic was a great way to hone the overall harmony with magic and helped sharpen a wizard's intent, a crucial aspect of witchcraft and wizardry that was perhaps as important as magic itself in some cases.
Much to his disappointment, he'd also come to understand that wandless magic was not the quick road to power he'd imagined it to be, nearly worthless beyond honing greater control and playing parlour tricks if one could not muster power matching that of a warlock. Even then, it could only be used for grandstanding postures at most— there was a reason why spells cast through a focus had become the mainstream method of magic and taken over the older archaic arts in both prevalence and popularity.
Aside from uncontrollable bursts of power, there were few spells that even normal wizards could learn to cast wandlessly through practice alone. Apparition was one such magic, dangerous if not done properly as he'd experienced personally.
His days of introspection came to an end when Alaric visited St Mungo's with his grandfather the previous day for a general checkup and was declared perfectly healthy after a long and thorough inspection. Deciding that he wanted to start early, he got out of his bed early that day to begin his morning run so that he could finally begin experimenting with magic as soon as he could.
"Perhaps I was looking at this wrong," Alaric mused out loud, closing the book on wandless magic that his grandfather had given him, one of the many taken from Ilvermorny's syllabus that actually included structured courses on wandless magic. "But the idea has some merit so it might just work,"
He'd previously been searching for something inside him when trying to call upon his magic, hoping something might have changed inside of him that gave him a power which let him bend the world to his whims but the feather had not moved from its spot on the table for hours by. He thought about the problem for a moment before extending his arm towards the feather he'd been trying to move for the last few days once again.
But instead of trying to manipulate the object physically through an unseen force inside of him, he decided on another approach this time. Taking a deep breath, Alaric centred himself and grasped for the rhythm of his own body He focused intently on the feather, studying it using unwavering focus as he had been for the last few hours, and imagined the object moving towards his palm—wanting it to happen with all the focus and intent he could muster.
It happened instantly— a tender heat enveloped his body, as gentle as a mother's touch. It coursed through every part of his being, dusting his cheeks and driving away any cold doubts he had.
It took some moments for the gentle warmth to completely fade away and the waning sensation of power leaving was almost akin to being plunged into the dark after standing under the noon sun. Where once he felt that he could turn imagination into reality and do everything he could think of, now all he saw now was what lay before him and even that was limited to the meagre spectrum of human senses.
He slowly opened his eyes and laughed out loud, joy dancing in his gleaming bright eyes as he glanced down at the feather that had moved halfway toward his outstretched palm in response to his unspoken thoughts. The sounds of the manor began to register in his mind now that he was no longer so focused on his sight.
"Yer a wizard, Alaric!" he declared, playfully invoking the iconic phrase he once yearned to hear in another, awaiting the Hogwarts envelope with dreams of embarking on a magical adventure from a dark hospital bed.
It took some time for the vertigo of wonder and nostalgia to recede as Alaric resisted the urge to jump around the room and brought his racing mind to order after an embarrassingly long period of amazement and wonder. He was finally able to calm down using some of the meditative exercises his grandmother had taught him upon learning that he was interested in performing magic without a mind— slowly breathing in measured gasps of fresh air and clearing his mind completely was an unexpectedly comforting experience, and it helped soothe his raging emotions rather quickly.
Magic was not a quantifiable force that could be measured or understood, rather it was closer to an event.
A phenomenon that manifested as an unseen force for no apparent cause other than the intent of the caster— Alaric could not find any other words to describe what he'd just felt, finally understanding why all those books had been so vague. It also instantly became apparent to him how important a wand must be if it was meant to focus that into a single spell, why wizards and witches needed an external tool to bypass imagination and gather all that focus.
He could finally understand why his grandparents had started frequently using magic around him after his first bout of accidental magic when they had always been so cautious around him before, his grandfather even going as far as to use various kinds of magic right on him during his playtime when he would refuse to even show him his wand before. They had been trying to teach him the feel of magic, inadvertently encouraging him to use magic more frequently by making him subconsciously mimic them.
To say he had been confused when frequent bouts of emotion started forcing the very world around him to bend and change was saying it moderately. At the time, he had no idea what he was supposed to do— only that every time he used accidental magic, it felt as if he was being doused in warm running water.
Now he finally understood that what he'd been experiencing was pure magic as it poured out of his body in soothing streams of power, a sensation unique to his magical being. The reason why he had been unable to use magic properly was that he'd thought of it as something already inside of him that could be manipulated when it was an event brought into motion by intent and power.
The thought of what he'd just done once again brought an amazed gleam to his eyes and he grinned, unable to help himself and not really wanting to either.
Kids his age were nowhere near as mature as he was, placing him ahead of his generation by a large margin but that alone could not ensure he had perfect control over his emotions which fluctuated constantly due to the natural age of his body. Alaric might be a reincarnate who'd awakened fragmented memories of his previous world, but he was a small boy not even seven years of age when all was said and done.
He had considered toning down his natural emotions and forcing himself to act more mature to deal with the changing moods once and for all, but had discarded the thought just as quickly.
That approach might prove to be more advantageous in the long run but he wanted to experience this second change to its fullest, and growing up was a part of the experience. He would not abandon the wonder and joy of his youth just because it might prove to be more convenient for his dabbles in magic. He wanted to fully enjoy this world of excitement and adventure this time, he wanted to change the world and leave behind a legacy that would be remembered for eons. Alaric wanted to be great...
In this magical world, such a dream certainly appeared imaginable.
This single use of wandless magic had made him understand the importance of wands all too well, made him understand he could not do much other than practise the sensation of manifesting magic on his own and observing adults perform miracles that would take him years to recreate. But at least he had the opportunity to watch something useful this time around, something that he could learn from.
He had asked his grandparents to allow him to study some of the rudimentary magical subjects on his own and they had been reluctant at the beginning, though they finally relented when he'd all but thrown a tantrum and promised he'd would go back to tutoring if he could not score well on his own. He pleaded that he would learn everything required of him, but he wanted to do it on his own.
His grandmother had asked him to learn nearly the entirety of elementary mathematics by the evening of the same day to prove his resolve. Alaric instantly understood how biased the test could have been for a normal kid, but he'd aced it regardless and proven his point. His grandparents had relented, and he now only had to take weekly tests and complete his homework regularly.
That had freed him from most of his annoying lessons and given him more time to explore magic on his own— Alaric wanted to know everything about magic as soon as he could and was outrageously upset upon learning he could not get a wand before he went to Hogwarts, something about focused magic being dangerous to wizards whose powers were yet to mature. But he had other means of learning, namely arcane theory and wandless magic.
Alaric now understood that he had to make sure to observe his grandparents whenever they used magic. He might not be able to understand every spell they cast, but he made sure to watch everything and take in all he could regardless. He could at least memorise how they spoke their incantations and waved their wands.
His knowledge regarding practical magic was almost non-existent at this point, but what he knew for certain was that the fundamentals must be perfected to the extreme and even the smallest of gaps could make all the difference between adequate and perfect. So he decided to watch how adults moulded their magic and learn, even though he knew he would not be able to do the same things they did for a long time.
Magic was the one thing that the memories of his former would could not help him with, so Alaric was naturally desperate for any information he could get his hands on.
He had four years before Hogwarts and he intended to make full use of the time. If he could not train his spellcasting, then he would train his mind. His knowledge would be sharpened into a power equal to any other in this world, that was what his dreams demanded of him.
Thanks for reading.