oOoOo

Any and all constructive criticism is welcome but please, keep it constructive. If you're going to flame me, I'd at least like to get something useful out of it besides the crippling blow to my ego.

Thank you, Chris, and UwUBlackPanther for being Nobles!

To Nameless742 and Ouki: your sovereignty is appreciated. May your rule be prosperous and bountiful!

Your support means more to me than you could ever know!

----------------------------------------

oOoOo

I Show Not Your Face

OoOoO

October 5, 1990, 5:48 AM, Gryffindor Tower, Boys’ Dormitory

Waking up to moral dilemmas was not something I was new to. It was a regular occurrence in my previous life.

They would come and go quite often.

Sometimes, they would arrive during my many Skyrim sessions, others whilst I would be lying around, waiting for sleep to pull me into its embrace. This kind of dilemma was new to me, though.

Sirius Black.

A name that filled me with a mix of emotions; some good, others not so much.

Rolling onto my back, I stared at the burgundy ceiling of the dorm, noticing the tell-tale signs of my guilty conscience starting to take effect before leaving the comfortable four-poster bed with a sigh.

Knowing of his innocence, I could attempt to free him earlier instead of letting him suffer for the sins of another.

On one hand, it wasn't my business so there was no reason to care.

I wrinkled my nose at the thought. As unwelcome as it was, it was true. Whether or not I chose to save him, he’d be free eventually.

My admiration towards him for being cool or for toughing out absolute hell for a decade didn’t matter. Freeing him would place me into the hands of stronger powers, ones that I wasn’t ready to face and would ultimately alter the world from its predetermined course.

Somewhere in my heart of hearts, I knew that to be a lie. The honest truth was that the world was thrown of course the minute I arrived in it.

The ramifications of my existence were already beginning to show. One example being my newly acquired friend, Katie Bell. It’d be beyond naïve and just plain stupid of me to believe otherwise.

‘A butterfly that beats its wings in one corner of the globe and with that single action changes the weather halfway across the world*, huh?’

For all I knew, my arrival to the world could have already altered something important. For instance, the wind blows towards the west instead of the east and suddenly, Lockhart decides he won’t apply to teach at Hogwarts.

In the end, I could never truly know how my actions would affect the world regardless of whether or not I decided to stick to what fate had ordained.

And in that case, my advantage would be gone.

An icy sensation coiled beneath my ribs, spreading throughout my chest. For all I knew, I could’ve been dragged into this world to perform for some Omnipotent Being before fizzling out like a firework under its whims.

The thought only served to terrify me even more. Before I knew it, my breathing was ragged, the very notion that I had no control over my life sending me into a frenzy.

I leaned forward, burying my head in my arms, a weary sigh escaping my lips.

I stared at the wooden surface of the table, losing myself in the intricacies of its many patterns and shades.

That was when it hit me.

There was nothing I could do to change my situation, not at the moment. But I could gather strength, bide my time, and gain confidence whilst enjoying the world around me.

I could make something of myself but only if I resigned myself to not having any control. And despite the many upsides to this, the thought terrified me, because this world could be ripped away from me just as easily as my last one was. Even though the fanfics I had read in my past life had made it seem nice, I now knew otherwise.

There was no closure, no knowing if the people you cared about were alive and well. And if I were to be brutally honest, I wasn’t sure if I could take it again.

I finished the last sentence, slipping the journal and pen back inside my pocket before walking out of the dorm, my roommates still fast asleep.

I had a few hours to kill until breakfast, it’d be good if I read ahead some more. The work I’d been set wasn’t challenging in the slightest, we were eleven after all.

More often, it involved regurgitating textbook information. Unlike my peers, I added a little personal flair to my essays, evaluating things and showing pros and cons, that sort of thing.

That alone earned me the top spot in most subjects. There were a select few such as History of Magic and Herbology that lacked any sort of oomph. My lack of interest in them didn’t get in the way of my grades, but I wasn’t ranked first in them either.

I turned the page, my eyebrows rising at the mention of a Transfiguration formula. Hunching over, I flicked through the book, my surprise growing with every word.

Apparently, there were actual formulae involved in the subject that involved values such as ‘w’ for wand power and ‘c’ for concentration. Upon further reading, I realised that it was really just a roundabout way of imbuing intent into one’s transfiguration. That didn’t mean it was automatically useless though. If I could understand how the current magical system worked, I’d be able to understand where intent slotted itself, if it did so at all.

For all I knew, wizards could have abandoned intent completely. Instead opting to rely on association and mathematical formulae.

An hour or so later, I closed the textbook and slung my bag over my shoulder before leaving the common room.

With each step, my breathing lightened. A satisfying warmth slowly spread itself out from within me a heaviness that I wasn’t even aware of being dislodged in the process.

I turned the corner of the corridor, in awe at the majesty of the halls. The morning sunrise filtered through the stained-glass windows. The light hit the portraits at just the right angles, giving the corridor a seraphic look.

It truly was a sight to behold.

A soft smile drew itself across my face, the sunlight beckoning me over with a series of delightful twinkles through the patterned windows.

I ambled down the corridor, basking in the golden lustre of the morning, ready to face the long day ahead.

oOOOo

Third Floor, Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom, 3:21 PM

“So, sir,” I asked, slight nervousness prompting me to fold my arms. “About today’s lesson. You said that being bitten or scratched by a werewolf would cause the victim to develop Lycanthropy and that makes sense.”

I paused, giving myself a moment to collect myself and formulate a coherent sentence. In my reverie, I looked upwards.

The dragon’s skull hung from the ceiling, its hollow sockets boring down at me, exacerbating my nervousness. I took a deep breath to centre myself before asking my question.

Nothing could go wrong with such a simple question.

“Then what would happen if a werewolf were to bite or scratch someone whilst in human form?”

At this, Ancile looked up, his eyes glimmering curiously.

“Well, Mr Dovahkiin, an attack from a Lycanthrope in their human form would result in permanent scarring at the site of injury as well as the victim developing wolf-like tendencies such as a fondness for raw meat or territorial behaviours around those it deems to be part of their pack.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

He removed his hand from his quill, and I watched it continue to write.

“Though I must ask,” he said, putting his elbows on the table to prop up his chin. “What brought this on?”

My eyes widened at the unexpected question. I had come for clarification for a thought in passing— there wasn’t much else to it.

Though I supposed that in a wider context, I wanted to be more equipped to stake my claim in the world at some point in the far future.

I swallowed before beginning to speak.

“Well to be honest sir, before getting my letter, I thought wizards and witches; werewolves and vampires, were all fairy tales. The sort of things adults told kids as bedtime stories. But then I got a letter and found out it was all real and that I myself was a wizard. It was completely insane! I know that I should be excited about it but I’m not. I’m scared; because if all those things are real, what happens when one of them decides to come for me.”

I was really laying it on thick, but it wasn’t all a lie. The Wizarding World was a dangerous place. One where the norms and values of regular society didn’t hold. In fact, from my perspective as a member of the 21st century, the people of wizarding society were as mad as a March hare.

Ancile leaned back in his chair, an audible breath escaping him.

“As your teacher, it’s my responsibility to assuage your worries,” Ancile couched, a complicated look on his face. “But to tell you that your worries are false would be a lie. This world is a dangerous one. It’s a place where power reigns supreme. But schools like these exist for you to become powerful. Not everyone has the talent for it but as William Hazlitt says: where there’s a will, there’s a way. I believe that if you apply yourself correctly, you can at the very least defend yourself and those that you care about.”

For a moment, I was taken aback by his realism. I had expected him to tell me that nothing could hurt me here, that I would be protected by the ministries and governments.

His viewpoint was refreshing, especially since it aligned with my own.

“Thank you, sir.” I said, genuine gratefulness laced within my voice.

He inclined his head with a smile, his steel-grey eyes softening before he spoke. “Not a problem at all, Mr Dovahkiin. As your teacher, I shall always be here for you if you need me, but sometimes, you have to go and make do on your own.”

I thanked him once more before packing away my equipment. I left the classroom, motivated more than ever before. I had entered the room with the goal of clarification and instead ended up leaving with a life lesson.

This only highlighted to me the need to set goals. The big, overarching goal that would direct my actions, and smaller goals that would be milestones for me. That way, I’d feel like I was working towards something instead of fumbling blindly in the dark.

With that thought planted in my mind, I strode up the spiralling stairs, intending to work harder than I had ever done before.

oOOOo

Seventh Floor, Room of Requirement, 4:30 PM

I stood before the straw dummy, wand in hand.

I twirled it, my magic filtering through it, before jabbing it forwards.

“Incendio.”

A jet of orange flame spurted outwards, leaping towards the dummy, engulfing its torso with a roar.

Not quite what I had intended. I stopped casting the spell with a huff before sitting down on the floor.

I whipped out my notebook and began to write.

‘Although intent is the crux of all spells, it isn’t as simple as wanting something to happen. I believe that you have to exercise your intent over magic (is that an energy or what we perceive it to be?) in order to mould it into what we know as spells.’

If that was the case, then the current education system was as inefficient as it got. From what I could tell, wand movements served as physical foci for wizards whilst incantations served as mental foci— a kind of intent stopgap.

It would make far more sense for intent to be taught first rather than to give students a crutch for the majority of their school life before suddenly kicking it out from under them. Most students went through their education without ever truly grasping the importance of intent.

Nonverbal Casting was something that’s only introduced in the Sixth Year, which would be far too late as it was nigh-impossible for someone to grasp the complexity of letting intent act as the focus for a spell.

Not when they had been relying on incantations and wand movements for so long that mental associations had already been made between incantations, wand movements and the spell that comes to fruition as a result of the two.

The Ministry’s ineptitude aside, it did speed up the process required for people to learn specialised spells. Beyond that, though, it didn’t do much else but hinder their growth.

That meant that I was completely alone in this venture. And unfortunately, there was nobody that I could consult if I felt stuck.

‘That isn’t necessarily true.’ a part of me expressed ‘You saw how Ancile was on your first day, it’s common sense that he’s using intent to guide his spells.’

But was I willing to out myself this early?

I voiced out my concerns to the room, earning myself a few sympathetic pulses.

For now, it was a moot point, so I pushed the thought away.

Patting myself down, I grasped my wand from the floor beside me and faced my target once more. “Incendio.”

A small, focused stream of fire exited my wand. The flames licked its figure, noticeably more controlled than before.

It danced across its appendages, forming a fiery shroud over its torso. The dummy began to smoke, acrid and burnt wood assaulting my nose. I cut the spell, my hands shaking with effort before they fell to my sides.

Spells driven purely by intent were… taxing, to say the least. After a moment of rest, I wandered over to the desk and table and began to note my findings.

‘Manipulating the energies of a spell and not having it blow up in my face is something that I’d count as a success. More research—as well as training—is needed before this can become viable. The load on myself is too taxing right now.’

My apparent success had brought forth yet another question to mind.

Why had wizards not discovered what I was doing sooner? It wasn’t rocket science, after all.

I sat down on the sofa; my brow furrowed in thought.

The powerful in the Wizarding World had no doubt come to the same conclusions as I. Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Voldemort and now more recently, Ancile; just to name a few.

I sighed. So much to explore, such little time to devote to it.

At least Rowle had left me alone meaning I had much more time to spend on more valuable ventures.

I felt a stab of annoyance at the thought of his name. The fact that he could so easily mark me as a target… irked me.

Once again proving my point that power was the most important thing to have. Wealth and backing came secondary to it.

Did I have any money?

No. And therein lied the problem.

I wandered towards a window that had just materialised on my left.

‘It will be getting dark soon.’ Gathering my equipment, I wished the room a goodnight before beginning my trek to dinner.

Turning the corner, I walked out onto the open corridor. The candle-lit flames cast an orange glow on the wall.

Wandering past the shadowed alcoves and half-open classrooms, I peered around curiously, looking past within the classroom.

I halted, suddenly, flinching at an unexpected sight.

Two older Gryffindor students were entangled in a fierce exchange, throaty moans and breaths escaping their interlocked lips.

I whirled around and sprinted down the corridor, cursing my hormones and wishing with all my heart that someone would obliviate that particular moment from my memory.

Eventually making it to the dining hall, I stared at my plate of food vacantly. Katie’s words were lost on me, but I nodded when appropriate.

“...and then she dove forward before throwing the Quaffle into the goal, it was amazing!” she swung her arms upwards and raised her voice to illustrate her point.

Noticing my lack of enthusiasm, she halted her tirade. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, my eyes drawn to the swirling pattern of the pea soup in front of me. “Say, are you going to join the Quidditch Team?”

My question forced her to pause.

“I’d like to,” she hedged, a complicated expression on her face. “But first years aren’t allowed to join.”

Ah, so that was why she looked so miffed.

“No problem,” I said, turning to her. “Just practise in the meantime. Once try-outs come around, you’ll blow the rest of the competition out the water.”

“You know what? That’s what I’ll do!” she declared, eating her food with gusto.

I finished off the rest of the soup before opening ‘The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection’ and opening onto the bookmarked page.

oOOOo

6:52 PM, Seventh Floor, Room of Requirement

I willed the room to dim all the active lights and candles, plunging my vision into darkness.

“Lumos.” I uttered, a luminescent light growing from the tip of my wand.

Contrary to my expectations, it was cool to touch. I pushed more magic into it, the light growing brighter. The bluish white light stretched across the floor, casting a gargantuan shadow of myself on the wall.

‘Let’s see how far I can take this.’

Grinning, I increased the light even more. The centre of the room was bathed in a cool, blue light that spilled outwards. Beads of sweat began to pool at my brow but the grin on my face didn’t falter.

I held the light for ten more seconds, it grew in intensity before I released the spell, all but collapsing to the floor.

Amidst my laboured breathing, the room came to life, candles sputtering into existence along the sides of the walls.

Despite my exhaustion, I was satisfied with my progress. Comparing myself to monsters like Voldemort was a fruitless endeavour. In the end, I’d still be left with me. Far better to try and surpass myself than anyone else.

Crawling to my feet, I asked the room for a bath and submerged myself, savouring the sensation of the hot water against my skin.

Once I had finished, I slipped on my clothes, holding my wand to my head and muttering, “Occultare.”

A curtain of nothingness draped itself over me as I took the form of my surroundings. If one looked carefully, they’d notice the shimmering outline of my body.

Thankfully, the dark cover of the night protected me from being spotted.

I slowly closed the door behind me, watching it melt into the solid stone wall before turning around.

I peered around myself, noticing nobody around me. “Silencio Omnia.”

A familiar rush of energy made my ears buzz before all was silent. Just to be safe, I stamped my food against the ground, relaxing once the expected silence continued.

With a final look over my shoulder, I took to the shadows of the corridors, avoiding the excited couples rushing to find solitary broom closets for their hormone-fuelled make out sessions.

I hadn’t run into anything untoward yet.

Stalking towards the Fat Lady, I halted.

My journey to the common room was disturbed by the glint of a mirror from the corner of my eye.

After a brief internal struggle, I spun on my heel and entered the room, my apprehension losing out to my curiosity.

The first thing I noticed was its sorry state. It looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years.

I pursed my lips; didn’t the school have at the very least a hundred House Elves?

I sniffled, holding back a sneeze. There was a thin film of dust coating every article in the room, barring the mirror. Unlike the rest of the room, it was in pristine condition. It shimmered attractively, as if it were beckoning me over.

Inching closer towards it, I read the words engraved on its frame.

“Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi…” I murmured, taking a moment to read the message backwards. “I show not your face but your heart’s desire, huh?”

I swallowed nervously. Wondering, just for a moment, if I could turn around and pretend that I hadn’t entered the room.

I shook my head and set my jaw. This would be good for me, I thought. ‘At least I won’t be so aimless anymore, right?’

I uncertainly opened my eyes, staring into the mirror and waiting for something to make itself known to me.

In the wait, a nervousness began to pool itself within the centre of my being. ‘What if it shows me something that I can’t have…’

I stared despondently at the reflection of myself. The thought served to scare me even more than the mirror did.

.