Chapter 321 - My SI Stash #21 - In Pursuit Of Magic by Zero Rewind (HarryPotter) (1/2)

-Hey! No chosen one, white knight, paragon of goodness, save world and help Golden trio reeeeeeeeeee. It's an honest SI that would rather just learn magic than fix-it all.

Synopsis: Jordan, your friendly neighborhood comic book fan wakes up in the Marvel Universe before the events of Iron Man. Join him as he embraces his new life and struggles to obtain power so that one day he might stand at the forefront of Earth, defending the planet from dangers only he knows are out there. (Self Insert)

Rated: T

Words: 20K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13502438/1/In-Pursuit-Of-Magic (Zero Rewind)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 0-3 (exceptional)

June 10, 1991

I'm just going to throw this out there.

Going through my formative years again s_u_c_k_e_d.

Big time.

I've been told my name is Adam Clarke, a good, strong British name. I knew that was not my true name, but I highly doubted anyone would believe me if I'd shared the truth with them.

Having experienced reincarnation and rebirth, keeping all the memories of my previous life- it was highly frightening.

I shuddered to think how the orphanage matron would react; she'd either harp on about the Good Lord or declare me Satan reborn. She was a flighty bitch at the best of times.

Ah, yes; you see, I lived in an orphanage.

Apparently, my biological parents had been gunned down, and the hospital staff had to cut me out of her corpse to save my life. My father had enough life left in him to give me a name before he'd shuffled off the mortal coil.

I was born too early, and they were all sure I would die. Being able to actually remember my first few days of existence, I knew I'd come pretty close.

Choking pains, weakness of breath, and an all encompassing cold with a few, scant moments of reprieve.

And yet, I lived on- to everyone's shock and surprise.

A miracle child, I was called. What the miracle was, exactly, I'd never cared to find out.

So, I was shipped off to some middle of nowhere orphanage and forgotten by all who were involved. Just a crime statistic, a halfway interesting survival story shoved into the back of people's minds so they'd live more comfortably.

Not all was doom and gloom, of course.

I was optimistic.

I had a clean slate, some could say.

A chance to live life without the mental constraints of a child's body. I would be able to quickly rise through the ranks of society and get hailed as a great mind.

It was strange, though. I was born in the year 1980 in this life. In my previous life, I'd been born this year; 1991.

At first, I'd thought that reincarnation was a non-linear experience, and so assumed there would be another version of me in the world.

That was until the accidents began occurring. I'd waved them off, at first. A trick of the light. Strange karmic justice.

Kids who bullied me got their pants wet in a way that made them look like they'd soiled their clothes. A door closing abruptly out of nowhere. Things I didn't like sometimes disappeared or were destroyed in some contrived way.

The more they occurred, the more I realized that something else was at play. I had my suspicions, but it all seemed circ_u_mstantial.

My birth in the year 1980, being British, the strange events happening whenever I was particularly emotional- they fit strangely well with a certain plotline from a book series I'd been obsessed with for almost two decades of my previous life.

Of course, the confirmation was now right in front of me. The orphanage matron had interrupted my studies, none-too-gently hauling off to a meeting room.

A tsunami of insults coursed through my mind, but the words died in my mouth when she introduced me to the person occupying it.

Severus Snape; a tall, thin, sallow faced man with black eyes and greasy hair, quietly handing me an envelope as the matron left the room.

On it, I read:

Fifth Top Bunk To The Right

The Orphanage of Pity

Warminster

The other side was closed off with a purple wax seal bearing a familiar coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding the letter H.

If this wasn't confirmation, then I didn't know what was.

”Open it.” The man prompted, his voice a soft, contained thing.

I obeyed, reading its contents while my mind began to whirr with the possibilities. The letter was the typical Hogwarts acceptance letter.

I decided to play dumb.

”Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” I deadpanned, turning the letter and reading what's on the back- the expected lists of supplies I would need. Robes, books, supplies and a wand. ”You expect me to believe this... school of magic exists, Mr. Snape?”

On its own, the piece of paper flew out of my grasp, settling into the man's hand. I stared at it until he cleared his throat.

”Do you, perhaps, require another demonstration, Mr. Clarke?” Snape replied, sounding neither amused, nor annoyed as he handed my letter back.

I shook my head slowly, reading through the letter again, very slowly.

”I can't pay for tuition, or my supplies.” I finally said, keeping my eye on the list of school supplies.

”Your tuition is free, and the Ministry of Magic has set aside a small fund for those without the means.” Snape smoothly replied.

It made sense- how else would Riddle have afforded going to Hogwarts?

”The Ministry of Magic?” I asked, looking in his direction but not meeting his eyes directly. This man was an accomplished Occlumens and Legilimens. Who knew what secrets he could pluck out of my head with a simple look?

”Our government.” He said with a tone of finality as he got up from his chair gesturing for me to follow as he moved towards the exit. ”Come along now, Mr. Clarke. You must get dressed and ready.”

”We're going now?” I balked at the abruptness of the entire experience.

Snape did not dignify me with an answer.

Getting fitted for robes was a bore. Being watched by the intense eyes of Snape as Madame Malkins worked on getting my measurements was even worse.

Snape was an expert at evading people.

I'd always known this was the case, of course- a life as an introvert in Slytherin would do that to you- but his behavior pretty much cemented that in my eyes.

That wasn't to say that he was afraid of confrontation. His entire demeanor was standoffish with everyone but myself, and that was probably only because he was forced to interact with me.

”Professor?” I broke the tense silence of the clothing store.

”Yes, Mr. Clarke?”

”What subject do you teach at Hogwarts?” I asked.

He gave me an inscrutable look. ”Potions, Mr. Clarke.”

I averted his direct gaze, focusing on the bridge of his nose instead. ”I see. I read in the letter that I'd need vials and a cauldron. Is it anything like chemistry?”

I could tell he was stifling an eye-roll. Likely, he heard this from every Muggleborn student he interacted with.

”Only in the sense that it is an exacting art, Mr. Clarke.” I almost missed it, but there was a shift in the man's expression. ”It is a subtle science, more complex than the haphazard methods of the muggles, and far from the expected foolish wand-waving in the other subjects.”

I hummed. ”What kind of potions will I be learning to.. brew, the word is? I hope it's not love potion, sir.”

”Nothing so foolish, Mr. Clarke.” He eyed me strangely. ”I tend to... discourage my students from certain practices.”

I gulped despite myself. This was a man to be wary of.

”All done.” Madame Malkin declared. I sighed in relief as he focused his attention back to the owner, discussing the payment.

I ignored the look of pity she'd given me after realizing I was an orphan. I had no memories of my biological parents, and I'd managed to deal with the negative feelings associated with the loss of my previous life.

Pitying eyes meant nothing to me.

I followed the Potions Professor as he took me to the wandmaker's store. ”I shall leave you here, for now, Mr. Clarke.”

”You're not going in with me?” I asked in surprise. I thought Hagrid had left Harry alone due to his incompetence as a caretaker.

”Acquiring your first wand is a particularly... Intimate process.” Was the man's response. ”Besides, this will allow me to save time by getting all of your required books.”

I snorted. ”Practical.”

There was a flash of amus_e_m_e_nt in his expression, before it settled back into indifference. ”You are perceptive. Perhaps you may do well in my class, after all, Mr. Clarke.”

He handed me the required money, turned and walked away, fully expecting me to obey his commands and enter the wand shop. To be fair, I did, but not before staring at the dingy, grimy entrance.

Considering the existence of cleaning spells, wizards were a really unhygienic sort. Still, the sight of a wand on a cushion as well as the sign which said ”Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC” took my trepidation away.

The shop was as tiny as I imagined it being. Hundreds of narrow boxes containing wands lined up every wall of the place.

I moved further into the store, staring at the assortment of wands with a feeling of anticipation building within me.

”A new arrival.” A voice came from my right. Despite having expected it, I jumped. ”Here for your first wand, I presume?”

”Do you enjoy startling people?” I huffed and shot the man a glare.

The amused look in his silvery eyes was all I needed. ”One must find enjoyment where one can.”

Well, he certainly wasn't wrong.

”Adam Clarke.” I introduced myself, extending a hand, which the old man accepted. ”I assume you're the owner, Mr. Ollivander? And, yes, I'm here for a wand.”

”Indeed I am, Mr. Clarke.” He seemed to have found my manner refreshing.

And so the measuring tapes began to circle around me, taking every measurement possible.

”My wands possess one of three fundamental cores, Mr. Clarke.” He explained to pass the time. ”Unicorn hair, dragon heartstring and phoenix feathers.”

”Why those three?” I asked, before thinking about it. ”I can only imagine it's related to the power of the animals they're taken from- much like how an elephant's hide is much stronger than that of, say, a rat?”

Ollivander stopped for a moment, regarding me with interest.

”You are correct, Mr. Clarke.” Ollivander confirmed, pleased at the line of questioning. ”You will learn much of these creatures at Hogwarts, of course.”

I frowned, hoping he would've shared more information on the matter. I'd always wondered about the intricacies of wandlore.

Fleur's core was her grandmother's hair, and Gregorovitch seemed to do his own thing when concerning wands.

”The quest for knowledge is its own reward, young Mr. Clarke.” Ollivander said. He must have been a Ravenclaw, I thought as the measuring ended and I was handed a wand.

”Holly and unicorn tail hair. Twelve inches.” He'd said.

No sooner than it was in my hand, he'd snatched it away and fetched another. ”Oak and a dragon's heartstring- but, I think it's no good for you, lad.” He snatched that one away, too.

”How are you able to tell?” I asked as he handed me another.

I gave this one a wave before he managed to take it, sending a pathetic sputter of sparks.

”This one was close.” Ollivander said, not answering my question and taking the wand out of my hand. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully before he moved to a nearby shelf, taking a wand out of one of his many boxes and holding it before me.

”I believe this one will be a suitable match for you.” Ollivander seemed confident as he placed the black wand in my hand. ”Ebony, and a dragon's heartstring, nine inches long.”

I felt a warmth rushing through my hand. I smiled at the feeling, I waved the wand, watching a stream of blue and purple sparks blow out of it.

”I see that I was right.” He smiled gently at my speechless state. ”Ebony, with a dragon's heartstring. It will serve you well, Mr. Clarke.”

”Thank you.” I stared at the wand in awe.

This experience alone made the unpleasantness of the past 11 years worth it.

With a grateful smile, I paid the old man, and exited to find Professor Snape waiting.

”You were right.” Was all I said to the man.

He merely nodded and turned, gesturing for me to follow. There was nothing that needed to be said.

I followed, feeling like I was being introduced to this wondrous world for the first time, all over again.

Chapter 1

September 1, 1991

I watched the old, beat up 1978 Vauxhall sputter its way down the road as I turned away from my old life.

They couldn't get rid of me fast enough. I stifled a sneer. Wouldn't even accompany me to the station I'm supposed to enter.

And yet, as I stared at the large railway station known as King's Cross, I couldn't help the smile and excitement that coursed through me. Not even the chore of hauling my school trunk to grab a trolley dampened my spirits.

I followed the signs, taking my time- It was all too easy to convince the matron to drop me off early. I meandered through the building's sections, trying to figure out how the wizards even managed to fit an entire platform in here.

Was size-expansion magic that strong, or was the gateway some kind of portal? Speaking of the gateway…

I stared at the nondescript wall between platforms nine and ten. This was where it all would start. My thirst for magic, my quest to solve the mysteries of the world.

With no hesitation, I walked towards it, watching as the trolley seemed to simply blend into the wall, with me following suit.

I felt a tingling on my skin as I came out the other side. That had been strange. But, what really got my attention was the train before me. It really was like the first book's cover— a red, old-style, steam powered locomotive.

Well, at least, it used to be steam powered, I thought as I cleared the entrance and loitered for a bit to the side, watching the other early riser families say goodbye to their children.

I'd lost my original parents when I'd died- and in this life, I'd lost them right off the bat. This was a somewhat stifling thought, so I discarded it in favor of marveling at the train, again.

This thing was supposed to run fully on magic— but how did it really work? A steam powered train would be using pistons, and the like. With magic, they could likely skip the entire process of heating coals, boiling water and using pistons to drive the wheels— instead, simply making the wheels turn on their own.

I shook my head. Magic avoided all the tedium that normal folks needed to grit their teeth through.

”What are you doing?” A voice startled me. I quickly turned to see a little girl, with bushy brown hair and brown eyes. Was this who I thought it was?

I stared at her for a few seconds longer, before turning back to the train. ”How do you think it works?”

”...It's an old steam engine, isn't it?” The girl did not reply immediately, standing beside me to stare at the train for a few seconds before turning to me. ”You know, it's rude to ignore people.”

I snorted. ”So I've been told.”

I turned to her and extended a hand before she could say anything further. ”Adam Clarke. A p_l_e_a_s_u_r_e.”

She took it, her grip weak and tentative. ”Hermione Granger. Likewise.”

I turned back to the train, letting go of her hand. ”So? What do you think? There's no way it's still a steam engine. These are wizards and witches. They've got flying brooms, for God's sake!”

”You're new, too?” She asked, a little hopeful.

I nodded, but did not offer any more words- not that she seemed to notice my reticence.

”That's great.” She started excitedly. ”I thought I would be the only one who didn't have magical parents. My parents were oh-so confused when Professor McGonagall came to our doorstep with the letter. I was afraid they'd react badly to the news.”

”It is a lot to take in.” I agreed.

”How did yours react?” She asked curiously.

I stifled a sigh. Granger, in her early days, put her foot in her mouth almost as bad as Weasley did.

”I'm an orphan.” Was my reply.

She looked mortified at her blunder. ”Oh… I'm so sorry!”

”For what?” I asked. ”It's not like you knew.”

”I…” She looked pained.

”Don't worry about it… Hermione, was it?” I waved it off.

She nodded hesitantly. ”I should go find a place on the train…”

I watched her awkwardly make her way to the train, not feeling the urge to chase.

Should I go and tell her that everything's fine? I wondered with a frown.

I did feel bad for her, of course, but I realized I just didn't care all that much.

Why bother with something as fickle as friendship? I'd lost all my friends when I'd died, and, well… I was an a_d_u_l_t in a child's body.

Children were tiresome little things, always jumping from one spot to the other, with attention spans worse than goldfish.

I nodded, my resolve to not bother reaffirmed. There were more interesting things in the world, I thought as I gave the Hogwarts express one final look, before pushing my cart to it as well.

Loading my school trunk in the luggage section was tiring, but I was lucky enough to find an empty compartment to settle into. Settling into the comfortable seat, I began to leaf through the copy of Magical Drafts and Potions in my hands.

I'd already skimmed the first few chapters, but it wouldn't hurt to properly read through it on the ride. I'd already devoured the Standard Book of Spells twice over. Dry read, it may have been, but these were instruction manuals on magic!

Forcing myself to read the long-winded and preachy scripts was worth the time. I smiled as I checked over the recipe for the Boil Cure potion, knowing it would be the first thing Snape would make us do.

That's right. I was using my knowledge of canon to affect my grades at school. I was a cheater, and proud of it!

Plus, this would have immediate benefits- who really wanted to deal with pimples? Especially with puberty waiting around the corner.

I shuddered. Going through that once was annoying enough- and I hadn't even known what I was doing at the time. Now, having to go through it again, with full cognizance really set my teeth on edge.

I really hoped my young body didn't react to the girls at school. That would engender all sorts of 'nope' within my soul.

Back to Potions. The Boil Cure potion wasn't the only useful thing in this book. There was another potion— Wideye Potion; I was convinced that potions were a gift from the gods. God? Merlin? Who knew.

The important part was that Wideye Potion keeps you awake longer. The longer I was awake, the more magic I could read up on, and study!

Of course, being a responsible a_d_u_l_t, I would likely limit it so as not to interfere with my health. Yes, I would have to eat well, sleep well, maybe even exercise once in a while.

Once a week? With my young body, the workout wouldn't need to be strenuous: a bit of running, calisthenics, pushups and the like.

There was a certain room on the Seventh Floor I planned to straight up abuse. My grin began to turn feral at the thought of all that I was about to do.

It was at that moment that the compartment door slid open, revealing a pair of familiar redheaded twins, giving me a strange look.

The insane grin was still on my face, wasn't it?

”It is.” Both boys said simultaneously.

I said that out loud, didn't I?

”You did.” They continued, now amused. ”You're the strangest firstie we've met.”

I snorted before looking down at my book. ”It's good to be number one at something. Come in.”

”Confident, this one is.” The two entered the compartment, placing their trunks in the luggage section much easier than I did.

I felt a pang of jealousy at the two.

I couldn't wait to regain my a_d_u_l_t strength. Being puny again was very unnerving.

”Ah, the Boil Cure.” One of the boys spied at what I was reading. ”You'll be learning it soon.”

”Very useful, that.” The other continued.

I looked up at the two. There wasn't a hint of any pimples on their faces. ”I can see the effects.”

”Confident, and perceptive.” The first one said, before the two boys extended their hands. ”I'm Fred Weasley, and this is George.”

”Adam Clarke.” I took both hands and shook them, before returning to my book.

”So, where are you from, Clarke?” The one who'd introduced himself as Fred asked as the train began to move.

This was going to be a long ride, wasn't it?

Oooo

It was proving to be a long ride, but quite the entertaining one. Feigning an interest in pranks had lit a fire in the two boys, which increased when their friend, Lee Jordan had joined us.

He'd been leery at the thought of talking to an ickle firstie, but soon relaxed.

”So, we put a spider in his bed.” George was recounting a tale as they ate the sandwiches their mom had thoughtfully given them for the trip.

I stared at it for a few moments, remembering better days, before focusing back on their story.

”He shrieked!” Fred recounted and began to laugh, his brother and friend joining him.

I chuckled alongside them. It reminded me of the pranks I'd committed on siblings in my previous life.

”So, what house do you think you'll be in, Clarke?” Jordan asked curiously. I considered his words.

”I have no idea.” I replied honestly. ”It's a hat that reads your mind and decides for you, no?”

”Yeah. How'd you know?” Fred asked curiously.

”We told ickle Ron that he'd have to wrestle a troll.” George chortled.

I snorted. These two were even more fun to be around in person than in the books. Call it hero worship, if you want to.

”The Professor who took me to Diagon Alley told me.” I fibbed with a shrug. The man hadn't said anything of the sort- he barely answered any legitimate questions I had.

Antisocial to the core, that man was. Brilliant at his craft, to be sure, but everyone had some kind of quirk or flaw. Besides, I wasn't exactly a social butterfly, myself.

I shuddered at the thought of becoming as isolated as Snape.

”A shudder. Brother mine, the Professor who took him can only be one man.” Fred said.

”Snape.” The twins answered together, while Lee mirrored my shudder.

”He was a little quiet during the trip.” I said slowly. ”Is he that bad?”

”If you're sorted into Gryffindor, he will be.” Lee offered the knowledge I already knew. ”He hates us.”

He hates James Potter and his posse of bullies; by extension, he hates the House that encouraged their attitude. I thought, feeling a shred of pity for the man, though it didn't last long. Slytherin was pretty bad, too.

They're just characters in a book. My mind said, but being in this compartment with three of these so-called characters, interacting with them on the human level…

”Well, whether he hates me or not doesn't matter to me.” I finally decided. ”Whatever House I get Sorted in, I'll accept.”

What I didn't say was that, no matter which House I was thrown in, I was going to shun as much human contact as I could and focus on magic, instead.

It hadn't even been an hour, and these three people had already distracted me from my goal.

I returned my attention to the closed Potions book in my l_a_p, and reopened it. The three quickly understood the implied dismissal and shared a chuckle, muttering something about me being a sure thing for Ravenclaw.

They were probably right, I thought as I read through the steps for the third time. Seeking out the mysteries of magic for knowledge's sake was the most Ravenclaw thing in the multiverse.

I imagined what I could eventually be capable of. The level of knowledge and skill I could attain, I would be able to understand it all.

”Clarke, you're doing it again.” Jordan pointed out.

The wide smile fell immediately. ”Oh. I got excited.”

They began muttering about Slytherin House.

I stifled an eye-roll. As if I would ever join the House that hates Mudbloods. That was a disaster waiting to happen. No, I would need to be away from that House if I wanted to reach my goals.

Wait. I thought. Wouldn't that be sufficient cunning to have me thrown in Slytherin House on principle?

That was not a comforting thought.

oooo

The remainder of the train ride had been pleasant enough. Granger had shown up, asking about Neville's frog, only to freeze at the sight of me and leave quickly.

There had been some lighthearted digs from the boys, but I took the banter like a champ, making some highly imm_a_t_u_r_e comments of my own, much to their delight.

I may not have been the socializing type, but I would be stupid to not give these two fellows a good impression.

Knowing what they were capable of… Well, I didn't want to tempt fate.

I followed the announcer's instructions, leaving my luggage in the train and exited it, joining the throng of students as I tried to orient myself- it was a little tough, because half of the sun had already disappeared into the horizon, and pretty much everyone was taller than I was.

I sighed. At least the clothes were comfortable.

Madame Malkins does good work. I thought as I found a spot to stand in and waited. Though, why would anyone learn magic so they can make clothes for a living?

Wizards really were weird. They had access to a powerful force to rewrite reality as they saw fit, and they used it to hem robes and make love potions.

It was equal parts amusing and infuriating.

”Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?” A great big booming voice called out. I turned to the source, almost gaping at the giant of a man.

He was even taller than I'd expected- Reading about him in a book was something, but seeing him in person was another thing entirely. He was gigantic, with a stout build, likely hiding the incredibly dense muscles beneath.

A great big bushy beard covered most of his face, only made somewhat pleasant to look at thanks to his jovial demeanor.

”Any more firs' years?” He looked around, spotting me. ”Come along, now!”

I followed the group, already having picked out the big players in the mass of kids. There was Malfoy, with his two cronies. I saw Potter and Weasley, Granger and Neville.

I also recognized the Patil twins, Finnigan, Thomas, Bones and a few more, but the rest were mostly unrecognizable. Since they were never described in the books, they could've been anyone.

Part of me wondered, for a moment, if there was someone else like me, here. Were there more reincarnated people, or was I the only one?

If it was only me, then why?

Any further thoughts ended at the sight of mighty Hogwarts Castle. Ancient and titanic, it stood the test of time and still looked like it could hold off an army of monsters.

It was an experience I had only dreamt of, before. Yet, here I was. The pale moonlight filtered past the clouds, making the Great Lake's surface beautifully shimmer.

I had to give this one to the wizards- if nothing else, they were excellent at dramatic reveals.

At Hagrid's instruction, I hopped on one of the boats, joined by Malfoy and two other children I didn't know.

I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to draw this one's attention just yet. Luckily, he was too busy gawking at Hogwarts Castle.

I frowned at that. Yet another person who was a product of his environment- his father, Lucius, likely groomed him from birth to be this way.

With that sobering thought, we finally entered through a cavern, which led to the castle doors. I forced the thought out of my head in favor of staring at my surroundings.

The castle was even better, up close. Thick, stone walls, a large, oaken door, capable of withstanding extreme force- especially if it was magically enhanced, which it likely was.

I took my first step on the castle floor and felt a tingle sweep through my entire body.

That had felt almost exactly like when I was entering Platform Nine and Three Quarters! I narrowed my eyes in thought, absently gathering around the large door with the others as Hagrid made to knock. What is this?

But, there was no time to ponder this question, as the oaken door opened at the third knock, revealing the stern visage of who could only be Minerva McGonagall, wearing a set of green robes.

I put a pin in the now named 'Topic of the Tingle', promising myself I'd look into it as soon as I could- which probably meant tomorrow. That's, if I was able to find the library, of course.

”The firs' years, Professor McGonagall.” Hagrid announced.

”Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” Was her reply as she opened the large door wide, revealing the gigantic entrance hall.

This place was also chock full of expansion charms, wasn't it? I would have fun figuring out its secrets. It'll probably keep me busy for months, if not years.

I marvelled at our surroundings as McGonagall led us to a large set of doors, behind which we could hear the cacophony of what could only be a mass of children in a single room.

The Great Hall, where we would be sorted.

I gave a half-hearted listen to what McGonagall was saying about the houses, noting that her stern eyes seemed to narrow onto me. I gave a mental shrug, unconcerned with the matter. The castle grounds themselves were far more interesting than the people in them.

There were actual suits of armor, complete with swords and shields! They shined as if they'd never been used before. As far as I knew from the books, there was no real upkeep done on these, so this was basically a maintenance spell of some sort that kept them in tip-top condition for centuries.

I salivated at the thought of such knowledge.

Eventually, she instructed us to form a line, and the doors to the Great Hall opened. We followed the Professor inside, marveling at the thousands of floating candles, sitting underneath the open, starry sky.

This was incredible magic. I barely paid any attention to anything, until the clack of a stool against the stone floor took it back- it was the Sorting Hat, and it began to sing its song, one I'd read hundreds of times before.

I hadn't expected it to sing so well, though. It had more singing talent than just about anyone I'd known about, both in this life and my previous.

I wondered if Dumbledore loaned it out to make a quick buck- or, I supposed I should start saying Galleon, from this point on.

”When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” McGonagall said, holding a roll of parchment. I wondered if that's where the phrase ”roll call” came from. ”Abbott, Hannah!”

I watched as she went through the list, sorting the kids into Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin- and then it was getting close to my turn.

”Clarke, Adam!”

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves and sat on the stool, wondering- as my vision went dark- how well the Sorting Hat could read my mind, and if it had access to my knowledge.

In fact, what was even the point of sorting kids into like-minded groups? It would only create tribalism and groupthink, ultimately harming its supposed purpose of unity more than encouraging it- especially considering how people's personalities went through great changes through their formative years, puberty, and even a_d_u_l_thood.

The point, my young fellow. The Sorting Hat replied, startling me. Is that I provide a safe haven to give the students a chance to thrive, and not be subjected to strife every step of the way.

And yet, you have people who suffer, regardless. I thought back.

The world is not perfect. The Hat retorted, its tone heavy with regret. I can only do so much in the few seconds of time I'm allowed with the children. I do know which house you'll be suited for, however. ”RAVENCLAW!”

I took the hat off, thoughtfully handing it to the Professor as the Ravenclaw table cheered, beckoning me over. Idly, as I made my way to the table, I noticed that my robes had changed, showcasing my affiliation with Ravenclaw House.

I took one of the empty seats, realizing this would probably be my seat for the entire year at mealtimes.

”Adam, was it?” One of the boys next to me said. ”I'm Terry, Terry Boot.”

”Adam Clarke.” I shook his hand, and engaged the fellow first year in small talk as we watched the rest of the first years get sorted. Soon enough, a few more students were sorted in Ravenclaw. Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein.

I quickly lost interest.

I tuned out the rest of the sorting, not really paying attention to anything but the mesmerizing dark sky above, completely missing Potter's sorting and whoever else followed.

I was officially at Hogwarts, and I was going to learn everything.

My excitement was soured when the food appeared, and I laid my eyes on all the pumpkin juice.

”I hate pumpkin juice.” I g_r_o_a_n_e_d. In response, the juice disappeared, replaced by water.

I blinked. ”That works.”

House Elves worked fast. I wondered if I could learn their magic, as well.

oooo

Chapter 2

September 2, 1991, 7:15 AM

I woke up the next day, feeling more comfortable than I had ever felt before.

Soft beds really make all the difference. I thought happily. I'd grown so used to the orphanage's old and worn beds that I'd forgotten how good it could feel to just go to sleep.

Magic's versatility never ceased to amaze, I thought as I stared around my dorm room. It was great that I got a room all to myself.

From the outside, it seemed to be the size of a small cupboard, but with the use of expansion charms, it became the size of a small room.

One day, I'd be able to weave such magic, too.

I went through my morning stretches- an old habit from my previous life- before my eyes found the wand on the nightstand.

With a smile, I took it gently, exulting in the warmth that spread from my fingertips into my body.

Breakfast was around eight, so I had some time to kill.

Moving a few of my robes in the trunk, I found the Charms Book, The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1. I flipped through the pages, finally stopping at the one I was looking for.

I refreshed my memory by skimming through the pages, and put the book back into the trunk.

Here goes.

I held my wand aloft and focused. ”Lumos.”

The wand gave a very short, weak burst of light.

It was barely there, but I'd managed it.

”Lumos.” I tried again, excited. The light came out stronger.

I tried a few more times, the light growing brighter and brighter as I got a feel for the spell. It would still sputter and die out on its own, though.

I frowned. Perhaps I needed to set some kind of duration? I thought the spell activated the light and kept it on until I used the counterspell, Nox.

”Interesting.” I muttered and prepared to try the spell again, focusing my intent on setting a timer. Fifteen seconds.

”Lumos.” The wand tip lit up. ”One, two, three...”

When the count hit seven seconds, the light winked out of existence. I checked the book again, reading up on both it and the counterspell.

”They're like 'on/off' buttons.” I said slowly, taking my wand and casting the spell, focusing my intent on the concept of an 'on' switch.

My wand lit up, and I began to count. Fifteen seconds passed with no issue; then, thirty; a minute. By the time it got to a minute and a half, I knew I'd succeeded at the spell.

It was time to try and extinguish the light.

”Nox.” I cast, picturing an 'off' switch in my mind. The light died out. Success!

There was a knock on the door, bringing me out of my celebratory reverie.

I blinked and opened it, wand still in hand.

”Clarke.” An older boy in Ravenclaw robes and a blue badge which said 'PREFECT' addressed me, his eyes curiously resting upon the wand in my hand. ”Good, you're awake. The others were still asleep. We leave for breakfast in ten. Meet me in the common room.”

With that, he turned and left.

That's a little abrupt on his part, I thought. Then again, these are school kids who are still living in the old age.

I stared down at my wand, discarding the older boy's abrupt and seemingly dismissive nature. It didn't really matter how I was addressed by others, as long as no one tried to bully me.

I'd done that song and dance before in my old life, and the orphanage.

Placing the wand back on the nightstand, I made sure to wear my robes, marveling at the Ravenclaw colors. I wondered just how that worked, exactly.

Did Professor McGonagall cast the spell on me after the sorting? Or, perhaps, Dumbledore? He was the Transfiguration Professor before he'd become Headmaster.

Or, did Malkin enchant the robes to respond to the Sorting Hat's cues? In concept, it would be a simple matter, wouldn't it?

A spell that would trigger once, fully dependent on the Sorting process and the Hat's audio proclamation- but what kind of magic would that take?

Why didn't the robes change color during its song? Why didn't it happen when it sorted someone else?

Hm, perhaps it was a mix of audio cues and proximity, which would go well with the process of needing to wear the hat to be sorted. Perhaps I hadn't given Madam Malkin enough credit- I mean, she still used magic to fabricate clothing, but if she'd figured something like this out, then it was a very commendable achievement.

With that thought, I left my room, walking through the slightly tight corridor, down a spiral staircase and into the Ravenclaw common room.

I had expected it to have a library of its own, but it was just a basic lounging area. It made sense- why have two libraries in the school, one of which was only limited to a single group of students?

I didn't think that kind of favoritism would sit well with the parents.

The Ravenclaw prefect who'd knocked on my door was already there. He was a fifth year, with a Middle Eastern look to him- I should know, having been one before.

I gave an amused look at the patchy fuzz growing on his face, remembering a time when I was proud of my facial hair, as well.

What was this fellow's name, again? He'd introduced himself the night before.

”Bashir, right? Colton Bashir.” I tried to make sure. The boy gave me an unimpressed look, even as he nodded confirmation.

The two of us waited in silence for a minute longer until the rest of the students came over, looking a mix of frazzled and excited for their first day.

Bashir addressed us all, as another prefect joined him, a blonde girl whose name I'd forgotten. ”Follow me, and make sure to remember the route. I don't want to have to show you twice.”

The other kids around me grumbled at his attitude, but we all followed him, regardless. I kept my attention on our surroundings, taking note of the several landmarks that would help guide the way to the Great Hall when the time came for me to go off on my own.