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

-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)

oooo

June 10, 1991

I'm just going to throw this out there.

Going through my formative years again sucked.

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.

A horrible tragedy, the matron had told me with as much sympathy as a cat which is about to torture a mouse to death.

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:

Mr A Clarke

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.

Oooo

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 pleasure."

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 lap, 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 immature 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 groaned. 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.

As we took our places at the Ravenclaw table, Bashir the prefect told his fellow prefect- it turned out that her name was Mira Goshawk- to fetch the timetables.

She ended up making him do it, to our relief.

"I'm sorry about Colton." Mira said apologetically, sending a glare at the back of the boy in question. "He's very..."

"Pompous?" I supplied, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the kids around me. I had other, less savory words in mind, but I doubted they would be appreciated.

"That's one way of putting it." She replied diplomatically, suppressing the smile that threatened to show on her face. "If you need anything, you can just come to me, all right? I don't know why Colton made prefect, he's not suited to the role at all."

The only reason I could think of was that the alternatives were that much worse. I shrugged. It wasn't worth wasting time on, I thought as the ponce in question returned, timetables tucked under his arm.

"Your timetables, first years." He said simply, placing the stack in front of Padma Patil. "Distribute it among your peers."

While Padma distributed the schedules to us, Colton then handed two stacks to Mira, before turning and distributing the remaining stacks in his care. Mira muttered something unkind under her breath, gave us one final smile, and went to complete her duties.

I gave her a nod and turned my attention to my schedule.

"Double DADA, History of Magic, free period, Lunch, Charms, followed by Transfiguration and Astronomy." I read off Monday's schedule. "They're not taking it easy on us, are they?"

"As expected from the world's most respected school of magic." A pompous kid, Goldstein if I remembered right, said.

I shrugged, placed the schedule in my bag, piled some food on my plate, and pulled out the school map I'd received the night before, reading through it as I helped myself to some eggs and bacon- marveling at the taste of the food once again.

This place was going to spoil me rotten, I thought as I charted the trip to the DADA classroom, as well as the one for History of Magic.

My thoughts came back to Goldstein's statement of the school being the premier choice. I would be paying close attention to his face when he saw Quirrell's 'stuttering buffon' act, and experienced the sheer boredom in Binns' class.

I sent a guarded stare towards the turban wearing fellow, making sure not to look directly at him. Was he already possessed by Voldemort?

My thoughts turned conflicted again. Did I care about stopping Voldemort? As long as I didn't make any waves, things would turn out mostly the same, wouldn't they?

Harry would do his thing, survive death experience after death experience, and save the day at the end.

Or, would he?

Even acting like I'm an unthreatening nobody would have an effect on this world. The pebble had been cast over a decade ago, when I was reborn.

There was no real way to tell what was going to happen.

All I knew was that I, personally, had absolutely no interest in Voldemort's blood crusade, or of the fight between good and evil. I just wanted to learn about and delve into the deepest secrets of magic.

Still, being born to an orphanage meant that I was Muggleborn. So, wouldn't it have been prudent to ingratiate myself to the 'good' side, just for protection's sake?

Maybe give the good guys the tools to quickly succeed against Voldemort and his pack of sadistic racist sycophants?

I snorted, not being able to maintain that line of thought any more. I had a stake in the situation, seeing as I was Muggleborn, but I wasn't going to do anything stupid. There was no way in hell I'd stick my neck out for what was basically a bunch of strangers.

It didn't matter that I felt kinship and admiration for Potter's actions, sorrow for Black's fate and all other sorts of unpleasant feelings.

I was a stranger to them, and they were strangers to me.

Knowing convenient things and cleverly hidden secrets, such as Black's innocence, as well as the nature of Horcruxes would paint a target on my back, as well as generate suspicion in the ranks of the good side.

How else would I explain such detailed knowledge? What would Dumbledore do if I told him I knew everything about him, Grindelwald, Aberforth and Arianna? What about the Horcruxes, the Deathly Hallows, the Order of the Phoenix, the Prophecy, the need for Harry to die?

What would people think if I suddenly revealed that Black was in Azkaban without a trial, and that Pettigrew was alive?

No. It was better to try and stay out of things altogether, as no one would believe me, and I wasn't exactly powerful enough to affect any meaningful change in any of those topics- at least, not without having myself yoked and made to fight whichever side enslaved me first.

With that thought in mind, I got up from the table, shouldered my bookbag and hauled ass to the DADA classroom, closely following the map.

Of course, it was at that moment that Peeves showed up, with a bucket in tow. I dove to the side as the Poltergeist cackled and drenched a few other students.

They all shouted and yelped in alarm, their shock shifting into anger and dismay.

I didn't stick around, quickly turning a corner and standing outside of the DADA classroom. Quirrell wasn't here yet- either on his way, or still in the Great Hall.

I sat down and racked my brain for the spell that would shoot gum at Peeves. Lupin had used it, but what was the incantation again?

"Wad.. Waddiwasi. That's right." I muttered to myself, pulling my wand out and wondering what to do next.

I didn't remember what the wand motions were, if it had any.

With a mental shrug, I pointed it at the wall in front of me. "Waddiwasi."

Nothing happened, as expected. I tried a few more times, with absolutely no progress. With a huff, I resolved to research this spell when I had the time to go to the Library- after History of Magic, I'd have a few hours of free time to do so.

It was decided, I thought as other kids began to stand near the classroom door, loudly chattering amongst each other. Mostly, they talked about how excited they were for their first class, and of the Harry Potter.

What a bunch of mindless sheep.

I'd wanted to read more about Potter, but Snape hadn't bothered to get me any information on famous witches and wizards- I supposed it made sense. Why waste the money meant for school supplies to satisfy a student's curiosity?

Maybe, if Flitwick had delivered me the letter, that day, I'd have had more luck on that front, but Snape? I was surprised he hadn't just left me at Diagon Alley, stating that the 'instructions are on your letter.'

I gave a light snort at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Someone asked from my left. I turned to see Terry Boot. He was wide-eyed and curious.

I shot him a sidelong glance, shaking my head. "You wouldn't understand."

He made to say something in response, but Quirrell finally arrived, drawing everyone's attention as he quickly went inside the classroom, with us following.

And so, for the next hour and a half, we were subjected to a classroom that smelled of garlic, and Quirrell's s-s-s-stutters. How he managed to fool the entire school, I had no idea.

Didn't anyone in the magical world have a stutter, or friends or relatives who stutter? Or, perhaps they were so entrenched in the dark age that they simply didn't consider such things as important?

It was mind-boggling how wizards could be so exceedingly talented in fields of magic, but so extremely incompetent in the more mundane fields.

Then again, few people would likely notice the inconsistency of his stutter- Pomphrey, the nurse, being one of them… And the books had never mentioned any interactions between her and Quirrell. Maybe that was it.

Still, I thought as I half-listened to what he was saying, with DADA being useless, as well as the next class of History, I could classify the entire morning of Monday as 'study time'.

And so, the remainder of the class, as well as the History of Magic class which followed it were spent surreptitiously researching the first year spells I'd be expected to have mastered by the end of the year.

Emboldened by my quick grasp of Lumos and Nox, I felt confident that I'd be able to get the practical aspect of wand-work complete.

Strangely, neither teacher had commented on my use of a fountain pen. Binns probably didn't notice, and Quirrell most likely just didn't care- he was a possessed thing living on borrowed time, after all.

Maybe that was just a fanon thing.

Hopefully, my luck would hold out, I thought as I exited the History of Magic class, ignoring Boot's calls as well as the rest of Ravenclaw and Slytherins.

I had no time for socialization. I had a few hours, and I wanted to hit the Library up. I pulled out my trusty map and began my trek, noting that I had someone on my tail.

I gave a surreptitious look to the left, pretending to admire the portraits while, in reality, I was observing the people following me from the corner of my eye.

Slytherins. Three boys. One blonde with two brutes on either side. Malfoy and his goons.

I walked faster, but the three behind me matched my pace. Stifling a curse, I turned a corner and started to run, quickly taking another turn before they reached the first one.

"Where did the mudblood go?" A boy- probably Draco- said.

"I don't know. Should we look?" Another asked.

"...We'll catch him some other time. No mudblood is worth wasting this much time over." Malfoy said. Their footsteps started to grow weaker and weaker.

They'd left.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

That had been close.

What was the point of all that? It's not like I'd had anything to do with the guy.

"Tch." I shunted off the frustration into the void as soon as thoughts went back to Voldemort and the pureblood supremacists backing him.

They were being nuisances right from the get-go. It was a lucky thing that the Hat placed me in Ravenclaw, and not Slytherin. If they were so brazen so as to attack me on the first day of school, in broad daylight, who knew how bad it could have turned out if I'd been sorted in Slytherin?

Attacks from everyone in the dorms, the common room, the Slytherin table.

The threat, while in Ravenclaw, was mitigated. But, then again, Draco and his stooges had just attempted to line-of-sight me.

I frowned thoughtfully. The Ravenclaws also bullied Luna, hadn't they? I would have to plan for that eventuality, as well.

My threat perception of Peeves was lessened drastically, all in under two minutes of walking.

I ended up going to the Library, but not only to figure out how to use Lupin's spell, but to research adequate battle spells, as well.

Just in case.

oooo

"Clarke. Adam."

"Present." I raised my hand, before focusing my attention back on the book in front of me.

It was a few hours later that I was sitting in the Charms classroom, watching the diminutive Professor Flitwick go through roll call.

The time in the Library had been slightly fruitless in terms of finding jinxes. If I'd asked Pince, she'd likely have kicked me out on general principle.

Instead, I'd wandered aimlessly through the library, eventually giving up on the prospect. I was too keyed up by the previous encounter to try and get used to new surroundings.

I ended up pulling out the Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawks- I wondered if Mira was related to her- and reading up on whatever spells would be useful for me.

I ended up singling out two charms. The Softening Charm, Spongify, and the Cutting Charm, Diffindo. The ability to make things soft and bouncy would be invaluable.

I could simply cast the spell on people's shoes and make a break for it. I wasn't looking to kill anyone, after all. I highly doubted my Head of House, or the Headmaster would approve of such things.

Still, I bookmarked the Cutting Charm, in case of unavoidable situations, in which I needed to project aggression. I wasn't an idiot; I knew that I looked fairly non-threatening. My body was only eleven years old, after all.

There was an excited squeak, and a thud. Ah, Flitwick had gone over Potter's name. I shifted my gaze to see a skinny boy, with untidy black hair and green eyes which shifted in a mix of bemus.e.m.e.nt and irritation behind his glasses.

His eyes met mine. I snorted and nodded at the class spectacle, not really saying anything. Potter gave a small smile.

The moment didn't last very long, with Flitwick climbing back to resume the roll call before starting off with the lesson.

Amusingly enough, the spell being taught was the Wand-Lighting Charm, Lumos. Flitwick was energetic, erudite and quite obviously a master at Charms, as well as the history behind it.

Apparently, this particular charm was able to repel ghosts, as well as a dog-like spirit called a Gytrash; I took notes, figuring that he could be testing us for any of this information at some point.

There was some interesting history surrounding the spell. It'd been invented by a witch named Levina Monkstanley in the eighteenth century. Not realizing the significant impact it would have on the wizarding community, she didn't expect her coworkers at the Ministry to be surprised when she'd casually used it to find a quill in a dark, dusty area behind her desk.

It all fit with my previous assessment of wizards. They had the power to rewrite reality at their fingertips, and they didn't even understand the sheer weight of it.

I raised my hand.

"Yes, Mr… Clarke, wasn't it?" Professor Flitwick acknowledged.

I nodded to show that he'd been correct. "Did the inventor, Levina, know that her spell would be able to repel ghosts and Gytrashes, or was that just a lucky side effect?"

Flitwick's eyes crinkled in delight as he gave me a genial smile. "What do you think? Take the spell's effects into consideration."

I considered the topic, my eyes unfocusing for a few moments as I tried to come up with an answer. "It's a spell to make light, but it's not fire." Or a tungsten light bulb.

"Good, go on." Professor Flitwick encouraged.

"Though, it's still warm, so there is some kind of energy to it." I frowned, before looking up. "Life energy?"

"Very close! Take one point for Ravenclaw, Mr. Clarke." Professor Flitwick praised. "It is pure magic."

Pure magic, as a substance. "Thank you, Professor." I noted that down.

The theory continued in that way for the next few minutes as he went over the counterspell, Nox, and then he had us practicing.

I watched as the students around me attempted it, to little or no results. Weasley had been at it for a minute, getting progressively angrier. Longbottom produced a few sputters, which was probably a ridiculously good performance, considering his father's incompatible wand.

Granger got it in one try, earning three points for Gryffindor.

"Mr. Clarke?" Professor Flitwick approached me.

"Yes, sir?" I turned to the man.

"I see you haven't attempted to cast the spell, yet." He pointed out kindly.

"Oh." I blinked, smiling slightly. "I managed to do it this morning."

"Oh?" Flitwick seemed intrigued, gesturing for me to try it.

I nodded, pulled the wand out of my robe, and cast the spell. "Lumos."

The wand lit brightly, just as Granger's had.

"Well done, Mr. Clarke!" Professor Flitwick said excitedly, which was a little confusing. Was it really such a big deal? "As you say you've tried it, I gather you're also able to cast the Wand-Extinguishing Charm?"

I nodded once more, and cast the counterspell. "Nox."

The light went out immediately.

"Very good!" Professor Flitwick gave a little clap. "Take another three points to Ravenclaw. I expect great things from you, here, Mr. Clarke."

"Thank you, sir." I accepted the praise, noting that Granger hadn't been able to turn her spell off, just yet. His praise heaped on me seemed to light a fire under her, though.

I suppressed a snort and went back to watching the class.

"Clarke." A girl to my right said- Padma, I realized. "How did you do it?"

"Um… Do you know anything about muggle technology?" I asked. Padma nodded, not sure where I was going with this.

"All right." I said, relieved. "Think of it like an 'on/off' switch. 'On' for Lumos, 'Off' for Nox, with yourself as the 'battery'."

She looked off to the side as she processed that information, before focusing on her wand again. "All right. Lumos!"

Unlike her previous attempts, she got a few blinks of light out of it. It hadn't been successful, but she'd made some good progress.

"Good work." I gave a false smile, the one I used to reserve for nephews and nieces in my old life. "Keep at it, I'm sure you'll have down by the end of class."

She nodded, like she was barely listening to me, trying out the spell, again and again.

In almost no time at all, I found myself in the Transfiguration classroom, another period I shared with Gryffindors.

Professor McGonaggall was already there, sitting on the table in cat form. I stared at her as I took a seat in the middle, wondering just how complete the change was. Did she retain her human mind?

If so, how? The feline brain was much smaller than that of a human. How could she retain control of herself?

The obvious answer was 'magic'. Yes, it was magic, but how did it work? Perhaps a sort-of adaptive expansion charm inside the skull to fit the brain, or maybe a repurposing of the nervous system. I added 'Animagus' to my quickly growing list of things to do.

Just what was the list, so far?

"Let's see…" I muttered, pulling out a small notepad I'd nicked from the orphanage before I'd left. I mentally read off all the major points: Potions, Topic of the Tingle, Waddiwasi, Battle Magic, Lumos and its use against spirits, Animagus.

As expected, however, I couldn't just learn Animagus off the bat. The professor had us transfiguring matchsticks into needles. I'd managed to get the substance silver and the end sharp, but it was still made of wood. Still, that'd earned me a point, at least.

Canon and fanon knowledge gave me a leg up, but not so much that I could simply breeze through everything.

Transfiguration, I realized, would be especially hard considering my knowledge of physics and chemistry. I was essentially rewriting an item's molecular composition on a macro-scale.

I had two choices: run the transfigurations with the idea of molecular shifting firmly in mind, or I could abandon that thought process altogether, instead focusing on the conceptual changing of materials, for example: 'wood' to 'metal'.

It was a hard choice, but one I probably needed to make quickly and early in my education.

There was also another issue.

I was also worried I'd accidentally split an atom in my attempts, if I went the physics/chemistry route. It was mind-boggling how no one ever had this issue- or perhaps, they simply didn't know about all this extra information, and so never encountered it.

They likely focused more on the equation that McGonagall had provided. The Transformation formula; I would have to put that in my list, as well, I realized.

The topics continued to pile up, but it was fine- more than fine. I was honestly delighted. I loved to learn, even if I was likely putting way too much on plate, as it were.

Still, even with all the extra work I was subjecting myself to, I was fairly sure I'd be able to finish the first year curriculum around Christmas, perhaps even sooner, especially when I acclimated to my new accomodations.

I nodded to myself as the class ended, making sure to stick around the other Ravenclaws on the way to my Astronomy class. It was a class we shared with the Slytherins, and with Malfoy out and about...

The extra company seemed to please Boot, at least.

I wondered how he'd react if he knew I was planning on using him as a meatshield, should Slytherins decide to use me for target practice.

Probably not well. I thought, suppressing a grin.

Chapter 3

September 25, 1991, 12:30 PM, Hogwarts Library

It had been an exciting few weeks, I thought as I turned a page in Magical Theory.

It was a fascinating book— utterly wasted on eleven year olds, to be sure, but also essential to gain at least a simple understanding of how spells worked.

"To tamper with the deepest mysteries; the source of life, the essence of self." I read the words in the book, remembering them from my old life.

Essence of self... The soul? A strange reference to Horcruxes, perhaps, or something more?

I thought back to the Wand-Lighting Charm, Lumos. People used it to act as a flashlight, but it seemed to have extra ghost and spirit repelling properties.

Had the creator accidentally delved into the realm of the... Essence of self? It would make sense, in a roundabout way.

I placed the book back onto the table and thought back to the days of early humanity. I thought of our struggle against the elements, against the darkness and terror of night itself.

The act of making fire was an important milestone for the human race. We challenged the night itself, the mere act of it previously thought to be impossible.

Night was all consuming and full of unseen, deadly creatures— but with fire, it was a matter of shining the light onto them.

Did the Wand-Lighting Charm do the same? Did the magic tap into the essence of self, read the roiling emotion— the intent to banish the darkness and all creatures related to it?

It was an intriguing thought, and potentially useful, besides.

I pulled my notepad out, opened it and began to write:

'Adapt the use of Lumos to fight against spirits of all kinds, including Dementors. Research into Dementors and Patronus Charm.'

For now, I thought as I put the pad away and turned my attention back to the book. Back to understanding Magical Theory.

Honestly, while intriguing, the book suffered from the same issues most textbooks did: incredibly dry, plodding material. It seemed that the author, Adalbert Waffling, lived up to his name. Bright, but prone to not making direct statements. Happy to just fill the text with speculation after speculation.

Then again, this particular field of magic wasn't something explored by most people, due to a concept that Waffling called 'The First Fundamental Law of Magic.'

It more or less stated that, the further you delved into the mysteries of magic, the worse the repercussions might be if you screwed up. It bore a striking resemblance to Newton's Third Law of Motion: 'for every action, there is a reaction.'

It made sense, though that didn't necessarily mean it was proven, in any way. Still, this was a subject I was highly interested in delving in.

If I could figure out the secrets of magic itself...

A shiver went through me, both pleasurable and terrifying. Were these Tom Riddle's thoughts when he was on the path of mastering his own magic?

Would I have been following the path he'd already trodden decades ago?

I frowned. I didn't really care for the fate of the world. That wasn't to say that my perfect Sunday involved kicking puppies and stealing candy from children, but I wouldn't exactly be too bothered if a stranger happened to be on the wrong side of another's wand in Knockturn Alley.

That was the way of the world, after all. Criminals were a resource that never ran out, purely by virtue of how easier it is to turn to crime than it is to eke out an honest living.

I put the book back on the table and sighed.

I was getting distracted again.

This was the most annoying part of physically being a child. My focus just wasn't what it used to be in my a.d.u.l.t years.

Perhaps it was the sheer amount of energy I seemed to have. Perhaps it was the hormonal imbalance all humans go through when they went through the maturation process.

Maybe it was even caused by my magic's growth, as magic seemed entrenched in human emotions and was considered to be the 'essence of self'. It was the source of life.

A combination of all these factors, most likely, I thought about the matter for a few moments. How would I be able to manipulate my focus— perhaps direct it?

The answer, of course, was painfully simple: goals.

I needed to set goals. True, the ultimate goal was to pursue the deepest mysteries magic had to offer, but I needed other things to do with my life.

A solid reason to hold onto. Root myself in.

Did I want to exist in this world, or did I want to live in it? Most people could only dream of getting a new lease on life, after all.

"Even the most prolific scientists had hobbies and lives..." I muttered to myself. Albert Einstein, for example, was said to enjoy hiking, biking and playing the violin.

And, believe me, I was no Einstein.

It was settled, then; goals, dreams, hobbies, the works. These were concepts and things I had to begin thinking about once more.

I nodded, grabbing my idea pad and simply writing a 'G' on the cover, before opening it and checking through the list of mysteries I could feasibly tackle at my current level.

Research on the Wand-Lighting Charm, as well as all manner of spirit creatures seemed the most appealing one, so far. Surprisingly enough, Potions was a close second.

I had half expected my Potions class to be some caricature, after having read the series, as well as the tons of fanfictions out there. However, aside from the occasional snide comment, the classes had gone off without a hitch.

Snape's teaching manner did leave much to be desired, but he answered questions just fine, and was fair with his grades- at least, that was my own personal experience.

With Potter, I gathered it was another story entirely, from the rumors alone.

It wasn't my problem, of course. As long as it didn't directly affect me, I didn't see the need to bother.

I wasn't here to lecture people on how they should behave. Hell, if Dumbledore hadn't been able to get through to Snape, then I highly doubted that I, some snot nosed Ravenclaw First Year who asked him one too many questions in class, could.

I snorted at the thought before putting all my books back in the bag. I adjusted the shoulder strap and lugged it with me, taking a step towards Madam Pince, before thinking better of it.

I'd run afoul of her, a week before; an underfed vulture with parchment-like skin, sunken teeth, a shriveled face and a hook nose, terrorizing the children. She cared more about the state of the books than the students learning them.

Way to nurture a good, learning environment.

With a shake of my head, I turned to search for the books, myself. I would need books related to spiritual creatures of all kinds, a book that describes the nature and effects of emotion based magic, and perhaps even something on spell manipulation.

Twenty minutes into the book hunt, and I had nothing. Well, there was one book dedicated entirely to troll herding— whatever that was. Amusing, but not overly useful to my current goal.

I was beginning to get frustrated as someone brushed past me, muttering an apology as they went. I turned to throw the person in question an annoyed glance, only for my eyes to widen in recognition.

It was Granger, slowly perusing the shelves in search of a book, as well. Though, from her posture and sluggish movements, I could tell she didn't seem to be at a hundred percent.

This was odd, because she was always so ridiculously energetic while in the library— though, of course, quiet, or else Pince would let her displeasure be known. What had happened?

A few moments was all it took for me to nod in understanding. The answer was obvious to me, as it was something I'd dealt with in my previous life.

I'd immigrated to another country, and was excited about meeting the people, making new friends and the like— and that never ended up happening. I behaved, naturally, much like Hermione was now.

Dejected. Rejected.

Miserable.

Maybe, she thought her studiousness wouldn't have been rejected in a world of magic. I understood her logic, of course. It was magic, for God's sake!

It was the ability to play with the rules of reality and bend them to your will, and the students were more interested in skipping class and playing Quidditch than exploring the limitations of what they could do.

"Granger, can you help me out?" The words came out of my mouth before I could even help myself.

Taking pity, Clarke? I thought to myself as the girl in question abruptly turned towards me, eyes wide with surprise— though, her expression quickly turned to caution when she recognized me.

Had the encounter at Platform Nine and Three Quarters affected her reaction to me this much? Embarrassing moments tended to do that, I guessed.

She must have been mortified.

"I don't know… Madam Pince..." Hermione hesitated, but my friendly countenance seemed to change her mind. She took a step forward. "What do you need?"

I told her, and watched the gears whirring in her mind. Abruptly, she turned and left. I followed, amused at the interaction. This was exactly the sort of change I needed to make in myself— I needed that tunnel vision, that single minded determination.

It took a few minutes for the girl to find a book.

"I skimmed through this one on the first day." Hermione whispered and handed me the book in question. It was old and quite worn.

"Charms Theory." I read the title. No author noted. "It's as good a place to start as any. Thank you, Granger."

"...You're welcome." She frowned and looked down, suddenly awkward.

I stifled a wince. I was not the most empathetic of people, but Granger was outright hemorrhaging loneliness.

"Sit with me?" I offered.

The glowing smile that spread over her face just about made my heart melt for the earnest girl.

Damn it, Clarke. What are you getting yourself into?

oooo

September 27, 1991, 1:10 PM, Great Hall

"You can't just hang out with Granger, Adam!" Boot said hotly after our Flying class. "You're a Ravenclaw."

"So?" I challenged as I sipped from my cup of water, eyes rolling at the boy's outburst.

It had only been a few days since my meeting with Hermione, and Boot had taken offense to my canceling plans with him to hang out with the fuzzball of a girl, instead.

"She's a Gryffindor." Boot nodded, his case closed. Amusingly enough, a few of the other kids joined in the nodding, some even murmuring in agreement.

It hadn't even been a month, and they'd already fallen into the tribal mentality?

"Lay off, Terry." I cut in before anyone else could tell her to leave. "I like hanging out with her. We talk about a lot of things."

"You?" Was his incredulous. "You never talk to anyone!"

"Not true." I tried to project an air of innocence mixed in with the barest of hints of condescension. "I'm talking to you, right now."

I suppressed a smile at the frustration on his face. It is so easy to needle children.

"That's not what I— ugh, fine!" Boot huffed, took his book bag and left the Great Hall, throwing angry glares towards me every few feet.

"You've done it now, Clarke." Corner sighed. "He'll remember that."

"Better that he does." I gave an uncaring shrug. I didn't need friends like that— ones that were controlling and demanded all of your time. True, he was an eleven year old kid, likely thinking he was losing his only friend.

He probably saw this as the end of the world. I snorted at the thought. Friends mostly came and went, in my life— with a few sticking around, happy to deal with my acerbic and often scathing nature.

I shook my head of any thoughts of friends from a past life. They were gone. In another universe, in another time. Maybe, someday, I would learn the methods of traveling back to my home world, but I rather doubted it would happen in the next five decades, let alone anytime soon.

I wouldn't have been a good friend to Boot, anyway. Too obsessed with Quidditch, he was.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed flying on a broom well enough, and the concept of enchanting a broom to fly was fascinating. I could accomplish a lot with that sort of knowledge.

But, Quidditch? You couldn't pay me to play, or even attend the matches.

I turned my head towards the Gryffindor table, where I saw Hermione hounding the second youngest Weasley over his atrocious table manners— I felt a little queasy, even from this distance.

Jeez.

Potter, on the other hand, seemed as happy as a clam at high tide. He looked a little tired— likely from his training with the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain— but he was positively glowing with energy, eating his food voraciously, but cleanly.

For a moment, the two of us exchanged glances just long enough for him to realize I was staring. He averted his gaze, breaking the staredown.

I looked elsewhere, deep in thought.

Potter was someone I used to be very conflicted over. I related with him on so many levels, but there had been many times when I was trying very hard to not rip my hair out while I was reading the series.

I'd made my peace with it long before I'd been reincarnated. He was a hero in the making, stunted by forces outside his control, but he eventually grit his teeth and got the job done.

So, I couldn't fault him for wanting to enjoy himself while he still could. Hell, at the moment, he likely wasn't even aware of the true dangers surrounding him.

What do I do about that? I thought, not for the first time, with a huff. Should I do anything?

Corner suggested I go patch things up with Boot, incorrectly assuming the little spat had been the source of the small outburst.

I didn't acknowledge his statement as I left the Great Hall, absently heading towards the staircases.

Potter was an interesting sort of wizard. He coasted along his classes alongside his friend, Weasley, but his practical work was impressive— the sign of someone who learned from practice, not theory.

His passion was being stifled by his hanger-on, and there was likely nothing I could do about it.

A more important question was: did I want to do anything about it?

The more the days passed here, the harder it was for me to dismiss these people as just characters in a story. They certainly were characters from a book; I didn't imagine reading Rowling's works, after all.

However, they were also real.

They lived long, full lives. They weren't some NPCs which followed rigid scripts. My many interactions and encounters with everyone had proven that beyond the shadow of any doubt.

Sure, Harry had seemingly followed the script and had been inducted into the Quidditch team just like in the books, but I highly doubted it was going to turn out any other way. The boy's talent at flying was too obvious.

Still, I wondered what would have happened had I snatched Longbottom's Remembrall just before Potter's first Flying practice. Would it have changed anything?

Harry might have not made the Quidditch team, which would have saved him from Quirrell's murder attempt, which would have removed any suspicion the trio had concerning Snape… But was that the case, truly?

Would it have changed canon, in any way? Or, did Magic itself, the source of life, the essence of everything, force the world to adhere to its desires?

Prophecy magic was real, after all. Trelawney was a bonafide seer, though the class she taught was beyond useless.

Were any changes I affected by simply being alive making any changes in the world at large? Or, was I going to live the rest of my days as some background character?

A chilling thought: perhaps I was one of the many background characters in the book series, and I was simply never mentioned. Rowling had ignored a good amount of characters, after all.

Any thoughts on Potter, prophecy magic, fate, my worth as an active agent in this world, and the seemingly inevitable Second War were thrown out of my mind when I heard the sound of expectant snickering ahead of me.

I turned tail and ran, ignoring the cries of dismay and calls to chase. "Get him!"

What a time to be without my meat shield. Boot and his overreactions...

I turned a corner, only to find myself face to face with an enormously fat, and pig-like boy. Crabbe.

His meaty hands grabbed onto my shoulders, and he began to crow. "I've got him!"

But, my wand was already out, held in front of his eyes.

"Lumos!" I cried, injecting all of my sudden fear into the spell. The wand tip lit like an ancient, fiery beacon. What few studies I'd made with Granger had given me enough of an understanding of the Wand-Lighting charm that I could use it to temporarily blind others.

Crabbe began to shriek, letting go of me in favor of furiously rubbing at his eyes. I ran past him, muttering a quick "Nox!" and reaching the staircases once again.

I got on, noting the faint sounds of displeasure and the scr.a.p.es and pitter patter of hurried footsteps. The Slytherins were giving chase.

I would have one shot at escaping this, I thought as the staircase moved to its next destination— the Seventh Floor.

I hadn't sought out the Room of Requirement, just yet, and I cursed myself every second as I began to tire, with the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy being nowhere in sight.

Wait, there!

I stared at the portrait for the barest of moments— a bizarre representation of a man attempting to teach Trolls how to dance the ballet— and swiftly walked back and forth three times.

"I want a place to hide." I kept muttering, over and over, until the stone seemed to shimmer and melt, revealing a door, which I immediately entered, closing it behind me just in time for the sound of hurried footsteps reaching my ears.

I felt the air around me tingle as the door seemed to shimmer, its texture becoming that of the wall it was set in. I imagined it was completely hidden, on the other side.

I breathed through my nose as slowly as I could as the students' footsteps got louder and louder, until I was sure they were all standing a few feet from me.

My heart rate quickened, but I maintained my current breathing, mentally admonishing myself for freaking out. This was the Room of Requirement. There was no way any of them knew it even existed, let alone how to operate it.

"Where is he?" One of them— Draco Malfoy, I realized— cried in dismay. Did this kid have a hard-on for me, or something? This was the sixth time this month he'd attempted to try and put the 'uppity Mudblood' in his place. "You said he came this way."

"We all saw him go up the stairs, Malfoy." Another Slytherin, an older student from the sound of it, said in annoyance. "He's just too fast."

"I didn't pay you to make excuses, Bletchley." Malfoy said derisively, though he didn't disagree with what was said. "Whatever. Since we didn't catch Clarke, we might as well deal with you."

"What do you—" A familiar voice said before I heard the sound of a scuffle. "Let go of me!"

That voice— Terry Boot.

"Maybe this will teach you to lead us on a wild chase, Boot." Malfoy said snidely. "Bletchley, would you care to do the honors?"

I could have leapt out of the room and taken them on, to stop Boot from getting hurt.

Why should I? The snarled thought came almost violently.

It was obvious what had happened here. Boot had just sold me out to Malfoy because of a childish tantrum.

He's only a kid. Part of me said.

F.u.c.k him. Another part dismissed. I have no place for traitors. If he would sell me out this easily, then I had no need for him.

"It would be my pleasure." The older boy, Bletchley, said enthusiastically. "Hold still, Boot. Furnunculus!"

Boot cried out in mortification as the spell took hold.

The Pimple Jinx. I thought, staying quiet as the Slytherin boys began to laugh at Boot's plight. There was the sound of a thud— Boot likely being thrown on the cold, stone floor.

The Slytherins had their fill of laughter, as Boot's cries and hurried footsteps filled the halls.

"Did you see his face, the big lump?!" Malfoy crowed in glee. "That ought to teach him to mess with us."

"What about the Mudblood, Draco?" Crabbe, I thought, said excitedly.

"Well, if you hadn't let the filth go." Bletchley threw in scathingly. "We would have gotten him, too. He's escaped you, how many times?"

Five times. My mind supplied. I'd had to avoid them five times over the course of a month alone. This was the sixth. The first time, I was lucky enough to escape, and the other times, I'd made use of Ravenclaw as a herd amongst whom I could hide to avoid the unwanted attention from Malfoy and his cronies.

This time, I'd been lucky enough that I could reach the Room of Requirement and use it to hide from my would-have-been-tormenters.

"It doesn't matter." Bletchley's voice cracked, and he hurriedly cleared his throat, sounding embarrassed. "We'll get him sooner or later. He can't run and hide forever."

I closely listened to their receding footsteps, their carefree laughs, their mockery of Boot, until there was nothing left but the silence of Hogwarts Castle.

Still, I stayed hidden in the small space, not daring to exit the Room just yet. It may have sounded like they walked off, but there was the slight possibility that it was some kind of ruse, meant to make me feel safe and reveal myself, in some way.

'He can't run and hide forever.' Bletchley had said.

He was right. It was only a matter of time until they caught me. It was obvious that there was no love lost between myself, and my House.

If Boot, my supposed friend, sold me out so easily, then there was no way that the other Ravenclaws would help me out— especially with Malfoy paying them to look the other way. They'd seemed perfectly fine with Lovegood's bullying.

And so, in that cramped hiding space on the Seventh Floor, I quietly seethed in anger at the nuisance which was Draco Malfoy.

After an indeterminate amount of time spent tensely hiding, I exited the room and headed to the Library, a few new goals set in my mind.

Learn how to fight effectively with magic.

Teach Draco Malfoy a lesson he'll never forget.

Strangely enough, Granger only seemed very mildly disapproving when I asked her to find the necessary books on the topic, though I caught her sending me a few curious looks.

It seems she's as much a fan of Draco Malfoy as I am.

oooo

Thanks for reading.

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oooo

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