Ti flew by in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it, I was eleven years old. My days were a relentless cycle of studying, practicing magic, ditating, and honing my battle sense. If I were to achieve the lofty ambitions I set for myself, there could be no ti wasted.
My magic had grown considerably over the months. While I had a flawless theoretical understanding of every first-year spell at Hogwarts, my attempts at recreating them wandlessly were limited. Spells like Lumos and Aguanti eluded , but I had achieved so success with levitating objects. I had developed my own rudintary versions of Wingardium Leviosa, Accio, and Depulso. These makeshift spells weren't as effective as their wand-cast counterparts. They couldn't, for instance, affect living targets, at least for now, but they were a promising start.
The turning point ca when I began incorporating my eye ability, Raven Sense, into my learning. It allowed to observe the flow of magic within my body and how it interacted with objects I manipulated. At first, it was a strain to sustain, especially when analyzing advanced enchantnts like those guarding the entrance to our Ravenclaw secret library. But with ti, it beca second nature when working with simpler spells.
To refine my agility and battle sense, I enlisted Witty, our house-elf, in what could only be described as magical sparring sessions. Witty would cast harmless spells, like tickling charms, at while I trained myself to dodge. Initially, my focus was purely on improving my reaction tis, reading his body movents, predicting where his spells would land, and moving out of harm's way.
Over ti, my Raven Sense began to play a transformative role. By observing Witty's subtle expressions and minute gestures, I found myself predicting his actions before they were fully executed. It felt as though I was peering into the very intentions behind his movents.
That didn't an I was flawless in my dodging. Far from it. My small fra often betrayed , leaving scrambling to keep up. I'd sotis curse my lack of physical explosiveness, but even so, I was beginning to develop a systematic approach to handling magical assaults, a burgeoning sixth sense, if you will.
Then ca the breakthrough. During one particularly intense session, as I darted away from Witty's spells, I noticed faint trails of color emanating from him. These trails flowed toward his hand just before he cast a spell. Intrigued, I began to study these phenona. By analyzing the color, density, and speed of formation, I realized I could anticipate not only where a spell was heading but also what type of spell it would be.
The potential of this discovery left both thrilled and determined. If I could fully master this ability, I'd gain an incredible advantage in duels, being able to predict an opponent's moves and counter them with precision before they even finished casting. The thought alone brought a triumphant smile to my face.
This revelation also opened the door to deeper questions about the nature of magic itself. Witty's magic, for instance, seed to draw from the environnt around him rather than from within. Was this a unique trait of house-elves, or did it reveal sothing more universal about magic? What about wizards like ? Did our magic originate from within ourselves, or was my training simply turning into a larger vessel capable of channeling external magical forces? Perhaps the distinction lay in the difference between wandless magic and magic perford with a wand, each possibly tapping into different sources or utilizing magic in entirely distinct ways.
These questions ignited a burning curiosity within , and I couldn't wait to delve deeper into these mysteries at Hogwarts.
As for myself, I had grown slightly taller than most boys my age, with dark brown, slightly wavy hair that always seems to fall neatly, no matter how much I ignore it. My face, as I see it in the mirror, is angular but not harsh, with cheekbones that seem higher than most of the boys my age and a nose that I think is a little too straight to look friendly.
My eyes are what people seem to notice first though. I had sharp eyes that seed to peer deep beyond people's facade, an inquisitive expression, and features that seem to naturally reflect intelligence. They're this odd shade of blue, like frost under moonlight. They don't quite match anyone else's in my family, but grandma has never ntioned it as strange. Still, whenever I catch my reflection, I can't help but feel like they belong to soone older, soone who's seen far more than I have.
Looks like this lifeti too, I have won the lottery of genetics. I rember Aberforth Dumbledore, grumbling sothing similar the last ti he visited .
His gruff but kind nature has grown on , though he always insists I enjoy my childhood and stay away from practicing magic until I'm officially enrolled at a school. I tried to use a reincarnator's second best weapon, the "Shalessness" to coax so spells or a wand out of him, but it never worked. Still, calling him "Grandpa" the first ti had earned a rare, genuine smile, though it quickly turned into a wary look when I asked for a present.
I recall the specific day it happened.
"You know Nero, hum... as I was very close to your lina, you can, if you want, call Grandpa instead of Aberforth."
He turned his head slightly while telling this, however, I had never seen soone's ears turn red so fast.
With a smile I replied: "Thank you grandpa, I'd be so happy to call you that"
Aberforth looked at with watery eyes, and a genuine smile.
Yet for a reason he could not explain, he started feeling a cold sweat.
"Grandpa, you know, Grandma always said grandparents love to spoil their grandchildren. Do you have any presents for ?" I'd asked with my most innocent voice, hiding my amusent.
"Hrm," he grumbled, scratching his beard, "What would the Ravenclaw heir even need?"
"Well," I replied with the cutest smile I could muster, "how about lending your wand? Pretty please?"
That earned a series of violent coughs from him, followed by a firm refusal and a somber expression. "Nero, children should enjoy their childhood. You'll have plenty of ti for wands and spells when you're at school."
I guess I made him rember so unpleasant mories...
Though slightly disappointed, I didn't expect him to actually share it with . My real goal wasn't the wand, anyway, it was progress, and to do that, I had plenty of books to devour. My dream is to one day own a copy of every magical text in existence, all stored in an extension-chard library. Yes, perhaps ravens are ant to be greedy.
Grandpa Aberforth had promised to bring more unique books during his next visit, but for now, my thoughts were interrupted by the ruckus of multiple owls fighting near the window. I turned to the sound with a smile, already knowing what it ant.
"It looks like that ti of year has finally co."
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