Lucas rose from his armchair, offering Sirius and Remus a polite smile. "Thank you both for taking the time to speak with me," he said with a gentle smile on his face.

Sirius ascended to his feet, moving with a certain stiffness but an honest look on his face. "Sure thing, Harry." He reached out and held Lucas's shoulder tightly. "I meant every word – you’re no longer alone. I’ll be here, whenever you call."

Nodding in agreement, Remus's tired face broke into a reassuring smile. "We're family now, Harry. Come to us without hesitation."

Inclining his head, Lucas replied, "I'll keep that in mind." With a final glance between the two men, he turned and made his way towards the door, slipping out into the corridor beyond.

Walking along, he what he’d learned about Sirius's family – the old House of Black. Sirius's disdain for his pureblood background was unmistakable, the bitterness simmering beneath the surface despite the passage of time. However, according to Lucas's insight into Sirius's thoughts, the family's current head, Arcturus Black, stubbornly upheld those obsolete notions of blood purity.

Lucas shook his head, a cynical smirk playing on his lips. How absurd to hold onto such toxic beliefs even after they had shattered the Black family. Voldemort's pureblood fanaticism had decimated their once-proud lineage – Arcturus was a relic adhering to an obsolete ideology.

Despite everything, the old man's obstinacy could be beneficial. Lucas had learned that Arcturus felt no love for his outcast grandson, Sirius. Given the patriarch's old age and declining health, the transfer of the Black estate was inevitable and fast approaching.

The bitterness in Sirius's voice when he spoke of Grimmauld Place echoed in Lucas's mind... That cursed locket Horcrux was surely hidden within its warded walls. Lucas could bide his time until Arcturus passed away, allowing Sirius, the rightful heir, to grant him access to the house. Yet, the notion made him shake his head in distaste. Every delay brought greater risk and more chances for something to go wrong.

No, he couldn't afford to be patient, to give Voldemort's soul fragments that chance to slip through his grasp. Decisive action was required.

Nearing the Great Hall, Lucas's emerald eyes narrowed in thought. He would need to secure a sedative, something potent yet undetectable – a straightforward task with his knowledge of chemistry and access to the Mundane world. Then, it was a matter of finding Arcturus Black and making sure he was... incapacitated.

A faint smirk played across Lucas's lips at the thought. The old man's pureblood ideals would matter little when he was comatose and drugged into oblivion.

With Arcturus neutralized, Lucas could turn his attention to infiltrating Grimmauld Place itself. He was no fool, well aware of the risks – who knew what vicious traps and wards the Black family had implemented to guard their secrets? No, he wouldn't be wandering into that viper's nest, especially not alone and unprepared.

Capturing some vile criminals from a foreign nation, as he did in Russia recently for his Resurrection Stone experiment, would be effective. He would need to shatter their spirits and send them into Grimmauld Place to retrieve the Locket. Their survival would be irrelevant due to their crimes, making this approach feasible.

Lucas made his way towards his friends in the Great Hall, exchanging pleasant greetings before they set off for their next class - Charms with Professor Flitwick.

"Did you have a productive conversation with Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked curiously.

Lucas nodded. "Yes, it was...enlightening."

Neville eyed him sympathetically. "I can't imagine what you must be going through, with everything about your parents and Sirius Black."

"I'm coping," Lucas replied calmly, inwardly rolling his eyes. "One day at a time."

They soon arrived in Flitwick's classroom, the diminutive professor already perched on his customary stack of books. "Settle down, settle down," he squeaked, waiting for the murmurs to subside. "Today, we'll be learning the Wand-Lighting Charm - Lumos. A simple spell, but one that forms the foundation for more advanced light-based magic."

"Who can tell me the incantation and wand movement?" Flitwick asked in his squeaky voice, peering out over the sea of students.

Hermione's hand shot into the air, of course. "The incantation is Lumos, professor. And the wand movement is sort of a swish and flick."

"Excellent, five points to Hufflepuff!" Flitwick exclaimed happily. "Now then, everyone give it a try. Clearly enunciate 'Lumos' and perform that swishing flick."

Lucas watched with detached bemusement as his classmates struggled with the basic charm, wands flaring erratically or refusing to light at all. Hermione managed a decent approximation on her third attempt, glowing with pride.

"Mr. Potter," Flitwick called out. "Why don't you give it a go?"

With a lazy swish and flick, Lucas intoned, "Lumos."

The tip of his wand erupted in a brilliant orb of warm, golden light. Flitwick clapped his hands together in delight, his entire face crinkling into a smile.

"Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous, Mr. Potter! Ten points to Hufflepuff."

But Lucas was far from finished. With the slightest flex of his Will, the wand light shifted smoothly from yellow to crimson, then to a royal blue that seemed to shimmer and dance. Gasps of awe spread through the classroom as the colours continued to cycle effortlessly - emerald, violet, a brilliant sun-kissed orange.

Allowing the wand light to wink out, Lucas flicked his fingers in a casual gesture. Instantly, a dozen motes of multi-coloured light sprang into existence, whirling and swirling around him in an entrancing display of vibrant hues.

The class had fallen utterly silent, students and professor alike rendered speechless by the breathtaking control of wandless magic on display. Even his friends, more aware of Lucas's abilities, were staring at him with unabashed respect and wonder.

Professor Flitwick's mouth worked soundlessly for several moments before he seemed to find his voice. "My word..." he breathed. "Astounding control, Mr. Potter. Simply astounding."

With a negligent wave of his hand, the dancing lights winked out as quickly as they'd appeared. Lucas turned a bland smile towards the stunned professor.

"Was that a sufficient demonstration, sir?"

Flitwick could only nod mutely in response, his eyes still wide with disbelief. After a prolonged moment of stunned silence, he seemed to shake himself out of his daze.

"Mr. Potter..." The petite professor hopped down from his stack of books, approaching Lucas with a look of keen interest. "That was...extraordinary. Truly remarkable control over such a basic charm."

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Flitwick peered up at the young student. "If you don't mind me asking, have you received prior magical training before attending Hogwarts? Your grasp of the concepts seems far beyond that of a first-year."

Lucas offered the professor an easy smile, shaking his head. "No formal training, sir. But I'll admit, I've been...experimenting with magic from a fairly young age."

Flitwick's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.

"Experimenting? However did you manage that without a wand or instruction?" The diminutive professor seemed both impressed and troubled by the notion.

Rather than answering directly, Lucas simply raised his hand, palm outstretched. A small mote of brilliant white light blossomed into existence, hovering just above his skin. With a mere flick of his fingers, it morphed - first into a delicate rose sculpted from radiant energy, then into a miniature dragon that unfurled its wings and seemed to breathe ethereal flames.

Flitwick was once more momentarily stunned into silence.

With a casual wave of his hand, the light sculpture dissipated into a shower of glittering motes that faded from existence. Lucas met Flitwick's wondering gaze calmly.

"I've always had an...intuitive grasp of magic, sir. Experimenting was simply a way to explore the boundaries of what I could do."

Flitwick opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head slowly. "Amazing..." he whispered. "I must admit, I've never encountered a student with such an innate command before."

Squaring his shoulders, the diminutive professor straightened his robes as he tried to regain his professional demeanour. "Well, Mr. Potter, it's clear the standard curriculum will provide...minimal challenge for you. I look forward to discussing this further so we can tailor your instruction appropriately."

Lucas inclined his head respectfully. "Of course, Professor. I'm happy to demonstrate the extent of my abilities at your convenience."

oo0ooOoo0oo

The stench of sewage and rotting garbage clung to the damp air, mingling with the pungent aroma of street food sizzling over makeshift grills. Chun-Wai wrinkled his nose in disgust as he navigated the cramped, winding alleyways of Kowloon Walled City, his threadbare slippers slapping against the cracked concrete.

All around him, ramshackle tenement buildings seemed to lean inward, their rusted corrugated roofs nearly brushing against one another overhead. Tangles of frayed electrical cables and makeshift pipework snaked haphazardly between the decrepit structures, forming an impenetrable web that blotted out the sky.

Chun-Wai ducked beneath a low-hanging bundle of cables, grimacing as a bead of condensation dripped onto his shaved head from a leaking pipe. This was his daily existence, a life spent in the dank, suffocating confines of the walled city – a lawless enclave where triads and criminal gangs reigned supreme.

A sudden commotion up ahead drew his attention, the familiar sound of raised voices echoing off the close-packed buildings. Rounding a corner, Chun-Wai found himself amid a small crowd gathered around two men engaged in a heated confrontation.

"You owe us, Chan!" one of the men snarled, his face twisted into an ugly sneer. He was flanked by a pair of burly enforcers, their meaty fists clenched menacingly at their sides. "The Wo Shing expect their dues, on time and in full."

Raising his hands in a soothing motion, Chan, presumably, had sweat trickling down his temples. "I beg you, just a few more days," he pleaded. "My wife is sick, and the medical bills are mounting..."

His words were cut off by a vicious backhand that sent him reeling. The crowd mumbled uneasily, but no one dared intervene as the triad thugs closed in.

"Excuses mean nothing," the enforcer growled, cracking his knuckles. "You'll pay what you owe, one way or another."

Chun-Wai averted his gaze, continuing on his way as the sickening sounds of fists meeting flesh filled the air. Such scenes were all too common in the walled city, where the law held no sway. Best to keep his head down and avoid drawing any unwanted attention.

Nearing the junction that would take him back to his shabby apartment with his elderly mother, he suddenly froze as a ruckus broke out. Alarmed shouts filled the alleyways, and people rushed out of the nearby buildings, heads tilted up to see what was happening.

Turning his gaze in the direction of their fearful looks, Chun-Wai's eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief. High above the chaotic mass of pipes and cables, a giant figure slowly appeared from thin air, surrounded by swirling flames.

The air shimmered with intense heat as the fiery apparition grew larger and more defined, its blazing form bathing the walled city in an eerie, flickering glow. Chun-Wai could only gape in stunned silence, paralyzed by a primal fear he had never known.

With a deafening roar, the flaming figure thrust out its burning arms, unleashing a torrent of white-hot fire that engulfed the nearest tenement building. The structure, little more than a rotting pile of scrap metal and crumbling concrete, disintegrated in mere seconds, reduced to smouldering ash and twisted rebar.

Mayhem erupted all around Chun-Wai as the terrified residents of the walled city fled in blind panic, screaming and shoving their way through the narrow alleyways. He found himself caught up in the stampeding crowd, buffeted from all sides by flailing limbs and hysterical faces.

Through the chaos, Chun-Wai caught glimpses of the fiery entity raining destruction down upon the densely packed buildings, each gout of flame reducing another tenement to rubble. Yet, amid the devastation, he noticed something even stranger – small, glowing orbs arcing through the air, trailing ghostly streamers of light.

The orbs seemed to be converging on the flame-wreathed figure from all directions, disappearing into its blazing form as if being... consumed. A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of Chun-Wai's stomach as a horrifying thought took root.

Those lights... could they be souls?

He tried to shake off the disturbing notion, but it clung to him like a shroud. All around, the wailed city was being reduced to burning ruins, the air choked with acrid smoke and the anguished cries of the displaced and injured.

Stumbling through the chaos, Chun-Wai found himself face-to-face with an elderly woman clutching a wailing infant to her chest. Her eyes were wide with terror, tears streaking down her ash-smeared cheeks.

"Did you see them?" he rasped, grasping her shoulder urgently. "The lights, like souls being pulled toward that... that thing?"

Flinching at Chun-Wai's frantic outburst, the elderly woman's terrified gaze flitted between him and the surrounding flames. "Souls?" she repeated, trembling. "What are you saying? We need to escape now!"

But Chun-Wai was no longer listening. A cold spike of dread lanced through him as the image of his elderly mother flashed through his mind - frail, bedridden, and utterly helpless in the crumbling confines of their ramshackle apartment.

"Ma..." he breathed, his heart hammering against his ribs. Without a second thought, he released the woman's shoulder and plunged back into the panicked throngs, shoving and jostling his way against the tide of fleeing bodies.

All around him, the wailed city was disintegrating, collapsing in on itself as the fiery apparition continued its relentless assault. Chun-Wai ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding being crushed by falling debris as another tenement building exploded outward in a shower of shrapnel.

He could feel the searing heat on his skin, the air itself seeming to shimmer and distort with the intense temperatures. Acrid smoke stung his eyes, filling his lungs with each ragged gasp, but still, he pressed onward, driven by a single-minded desperation.

Reaching the narrow alley that led to his family's rundown home, Chun-Wai saw that the surrounding buildings were already reduced to burning wreckage. His heart stopped at the sight of their apartment, with one wall blown away, exposing the inside to the raging firestorm.

He stumbled over the rubble-strewn ground, screaming, "Ma!" His voice cracked with raw anguish. "Ma, where are you?"

There was no response, only the roar of the inferno and the groaning of stressed metal as the building's frame began to buckle and twist. Chun-Wai clawed his way through the wreckage, heedless of the jagged shards of concrete that sliced into his hands and feet.

Finally, he found her - a crumpled, motionless form half-buried beneath a fallen support beam. Chun-Wai fell to his knees beside his mother's broken body, a keening wail torn from his throat as he cradled her in his arms.

Her eyes were open but vacant, staring sightlessly at nothing. A trickle of blood traced its way from the corner of her mouth, her chest utterly still.

"No..." Chun-Wai sobbed, rocking back and forth as he clutched her lifeless form. "No, no, no..."

A brilliant flash of light accompanied by a thunderous concussion made him flinch, instinctively curling himself around his mother's body. When he dared to raise his head, he saw it – an orb of light, hovering mere feet away amid the devastation.

It was one of the soul-lights, its ethereal glow seeming to beckon to him with a siren's call. Chun-Wai stared, transfixed, as the orb began to drift closer, tendrils of luminescence unfurling like ghostly fingers yearning to caress his face.

An overwhelming sense of peace enveloped him in that moment, a welcoming embrace that assured an end to the suffering and hardship that had shaped his entire life. The orb was warmth, solace, family...

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the soul-light winked out of existence, swallowed by the ravenous flames of the fiery apparition that continued to immolate the wailed city. Chun-Wai could only watch, numb with shock and grief, as the last glimmer of hope was consumed, reducing his world to ashes.