Fluttering, I blinked the unpleasant memories away.
Since Sister Maria-Magdalena's suicide, much within me had changed.
For one, after my magical outburst, I began practicing my magic daily. Whether telekinesis, telepathy, or my shape-shifting—no, Metamorphmagus—abilities, I trained them every day to their very limits.
Strangely enough, since Sister Maria-Magdalena committed suicide, my mental state had changed noticeably.
My memory was literally perfect. Not a single second of my life was not burned into my brain like data on a hard drive. My imagination exploded; intellectual tasks became a walk in the park.
Simply put, my cognitive abilities increased massively.
However, there was also a major downside.
My emotions became foreign to me, to the point where I could barely feel them.
Almost only rational thoughts accompanied my mind since the incident. It was incredibly difficult to find even a spark of joy in my everyday life. The world became gray and tasteless.
Only my magical training ignited a faint glow of joy within me.
Hope spread inside me—perhaps there was a cure for my mental state in the wizarding world.
If not, I would obtain one myself.
Determination took hold of me.
Now I only had to wait until a professor came to introduce me to the magical society.
Today was August 30, 1988—my eleventh birthday.
According to François's memories, every wizard receives their invitation letter on their eleventh birthday.
Unfortunately, Hogwarts begins on September 1st. Exactly tomorrow.
According to François's memories, I have only one damn day to prepare for my introduction.
"*Sigh*"
[August 30, 1988 A.D.; 2:00 p.m.]
I lay absentmindedly on my bed. Thoughtfully, I planned how I wanted to handle my prior knowledge and use it to my advantage.
My birthday is August 30, 1977. That makes me a third-year student when Harry Potter's year enters Hogwarts—when I am fourteen.
François had read the book series only up to the fourth volume: "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire." After the fourth book, he unfortunately lost interest in the series. He never finished the last three parts: "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix," "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince," and ultimately "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows."
"*Sigh*"
Truly unfortunate…
However, it wouldn't surprise me if the books differed from reality, because something happened today that was absolutely not in the books. I am not referring to the memories transferred into my head from François.
Perhaps I will learn more about it at Hogwarts, or from the professor who comes to pick me up.
Suddenly an unpleasant, loud voice broke the silence in the house.
"Kiran! Come down, someone is asking to see you!"
The voice belonged to none other than Sister Isabell, who had taken Sister Maria-Magdalena's place after her accident. Since she began her service here, she had always blamed the death of Sister Maria-Magdalena on us—the orphaned children.
Paired with her voice, which had an unpleasantly high pitch, she was, for me personally, an annoying person who often tested my nerves.
This time, however, her voice annoyed me only slightly, as it brought pleasant news.
I practically jumped off the bed, quickly slipped on my gray slippers, and hurriedly opened the door.
My feet carried me down the creaking stairs, along the hallway that led to the front door.
Indistinct voices reached my ears.
"…Hogwarts? I've never heard of such a school…"
"…it's a private boarding school… Mr. Noir would only need to attend during the summer holidays…"
"…Oh? Really? That's convenient…"
"…His parents enrolled him at birth…"
The increasingly loud voices came from the dining hall, where we ate three times a day.
It wasn't difficult to piece together that my future professor was informing Sister Isabell about Hogwarts.
It seemed to be going smoothly. This was surprising, as Sister Isabell was rather stubborn and slow to grasp things.
Well, being a wizard has all sorts of advantages…
Eventually, I reached the dining hall.
Opposite each other at a wooden table sat two women, drinking tea.
On the left sat a woman in the typical clothing of a nun. A white headscarf framed her hair, a navy-blue robe surrounded her figure. The typical chain with a wooden cross hung around her neck. Her face was angular, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones. Paired with strict gray eyes, it made her look stern, if not somewhat intimidating.
The woman sitting opposite her was in no way inferior in appearance—if anything, she surpassed Sister Isabell.
Full black hair was styled into a severe bun. Light gray strands visible here and there formed a complex-looking pattern that ran up to the bun. She wore an emerald-green double-breasted trench coat, and at her side a briefcase made of black leather. She wore jet-black leather gloves that reflected the light from the window. Faint wrinkles adorned the corners of her eyes and between her brows. Piercing blue eyes combined with an intense, stern gaze full of seriousness showed that she was a person not to be underestimated.
After a lightning-fast assessment of the unknown woman, I concluded that she was Minerva McGonagall—the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, the professor who taught Transfiguration, and not to forget, a cat Animagus.
As I entered the room silently, she noticed me immediately out of the corner of her eye and turned her head toward me.
Piercing blue eyes inspected me from head to toe.
Shortly afterward, Sister Isabell noticed me as well.
"Kiran, finally you're here! This charming lady to my right is Professor McGonagall. She comes from a prestigious private boarding school: Hogwarts. Apparently your parents enrolled you at your birth…"
When the name of the school was spoken, I theatrically widened my dark blue eyes. After all, I had received a special letter from an owl this very morning.
"Hogwarts?" I whispered in shock.
As if frozen, I tore my gaze away from Sister Isabell and examined Professor McGonagall more closely.
She watched me silently with a knowing look.
I let an expression of doubt appear on my face. My eyes narrowed slightly, and I adopted a closed posture that signaled caution and mistrust.
Over the years of practicing my telepathic abilities, I had learned relatively easily to recognize and train the patterns that accompany various sensations. Nonverbal communication proved to be one of the most effective ways to deceive people.
When Minerva McGonagall recognized the doubt I was projecting, she turned to Sister Isabell.
"Sister Isabell? Would it be possible to speak with Mr. Noir in private? His parents have left him an inheritance that I would prefer to discuss privately."
She frowned grumpily but ultimately relented.
"All right. But lunch is in fifteen minutes—"
"Don't worry, we'll be out of the dining hall by then, Sister Isabell."
Sister Isabell, somewhat irritated at being interrupted, opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again when she saw Minerva McGonagall's imposing and expectant expression. Wordlessly, she turned around and disappeared as the door closed.
My attention turned to Professor McGonagall, who had meanwhile sat back down and poured two cups of tea with great skill.
She folded her gloved fingers in her lap and looked at me expectantly. With a gesture, she invited me.
"Please, have a seat, Mr. Noir. I'm sure you have questions, don't you?"
Wordlessly, I sat down opposite her but did not touch the steaming tea.
"Hogwarts is a boarding school that stands apart from other schools in Great Britain. We specialize in a particular art: magic."
Without observing my reaction, she raised her hand. A wand made of fir wood materialized in her palm.
Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and said, "Avifors."
My steaming teacup instantly deformed. Colorful feathers began to sprout from the cup; the white handle became a green, feathered tail, and the head of a hummingbird began to form.
After a brief moment, the hummingbird chirped.
The feigned shock that appeared on my face was quickly replaced by genuine fascination.
I observed the chirping hummingbird as it rustled its wings slightly. After a short inspection, I noticed no unnatural deformities that would reveal it as a fake. Its behavior and appearance were impeccable.
Truly fascinating…
An impulse came over me to take the hummingbird in my hand and pluck a feather from the "bird" to see how it would react to pain. An autopsy wouldn't have been bad either…
At the last moment, however, I restrained myself, as I felt the attention of my future professor on me.
Making a bad first impression would not be very… helpful.
I directed my gaze back to Professor McGonagall, who was enjoying her steaming tea.
"Is that one of the subjects taught at Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor McGonagall?" I asked, emphasizing the school's title to allude to the invitation letter.
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows in surprise, though with a hint of amusement, at my indirect approach.
"As I can see, you read your invitation letter thoroughly. However, the lack of disbelief is somewhat… surprising. I only rarely encounter such cases among Muggle-borns."
"What do you mean by Muggle-borns, Professor McGonagall?" I asked.
She set her teacup down on its white saucer.
"In this world there are special people who are blessed with the gift to practice magic. I, as a witch, and you, as a wizard, have access to magic, allowing us to perform supernatural feats."
Professor McGonagall gestured demonstratively toward the hummingbird in front of me.
"I'm sure unexplainable things have already happened around you when you experienced extreme emotions?" she raised her eyebrows expectantly.
After a brief moment in which I adopted a thoughtful expression, I nodded wordlessly.
However, random magic had not occurred since the incident with Sister Maria-Magdalena, as my emotions had been shut down since then.
A clearing of her throat pulled me out of my feigned melancholic reflections.
"To return to your question: people who are blessed with the gift of magic do not necessarily need to have wizard parents to be wizards themselves. People like you, whose parents are non-magical, are called Muggle-borns. Non-magical people are called Muggles by the wizarding world in Great Britain. Hence, Muggle-born."
"Oh, yes, that makes sense."
A major theme in the Harry Potter books was also racism. This ideology helped Tom Riddle—better known in the wizarding world as Voldemort—rise to power. With most of the twenty-eight pure-blood families viewing him as their leader, he terrorized Great Britain for years, until he was defeated by the Chosen One, Harry Potter, on Halloween.
Professor McGonagall continued after taking a sip of tea.
"At the age of eleven, every wizard and witch receives their invitation letter from Hogwarts. This timing is not random, because when a wizard reaches their eleventh year, their so-called Inner Gift awakens."
"Yours should have awakened today as well…"
Inner Gift?
Heh, and here I thought it was my "cheat."
How naïve.
When I woke up this morning, my so-called Inner Gift awakened.
It is called: The Eyes of Destiny.
The main ability of my Inner Gift allows me to see how, when, and why a person dies. When I tested it on Sister Isabell this morning, it genuinely terrified me.
I saw her being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse: Crucio, by a man. The perpetrator was clad in a blood-red robe that concealed his body. Beneath his hood, only his crazed, dark-red eyes were visible.
Sister Isabell ultimately died of a heart attack.
It seems I have angered a powerful person in the future.
"*Sigh*"
The fact that Sister Isabell dies in such a way proves that in the near future I still have not found a cure for my mental state. Since my future self also saw Sister Isabell's fate, he knew she would die in this manner. Why did he not take any safety measures? Even if I don't like Sister Isabell, she doesn't deserve to die like that.
Well, François would definitely think so.
Unfortunately, I no longer possess the emotional intelligence to draw conclusions in the same way François would…
But he would think that way.
It seems my mental state is a bigger problem than I thought, since I allow something like this to happen. Perhaps it worsens over time.
Paradoxically, my future self, just like me, had exactly the same thoughts at this very moment.
So why didn't he do anything?
Why?
However, drawing an adequate conclusion now, given my current state of knowledge—knowing very little about the Inner Gift—is not possible.
"*Sigh*"
To return to the abilities of my Inner Gift…
I also have a secondary ability that allows me to see magical particles. The magical particles manifest in all kinds of colors.
This ability will certainly—
Professor McGonagall pulled me out of my thoughts with another clearing of her throat.
"It seems you understand what I mean by the Inner Gift. Unfortunately, we only have a little time to talk, as the school year begins tomorrow. We should also purchase your materials right away… unless you do not wish to go to Hogwarts?" She raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on her thin lips.
"Of course not, Professor McGonagall!" I replied, the slight smile on her lips mirrored on mine.
***
[A/N:
Hello!
Please excuse my late update of the chapter. I was unable to update due to health reasons. However, continuity will improve from now on.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Feel free to write your opinion.
Byee
]
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