August 16, 1988
England, Cokeworth, Spinner's End, Severus Snape's House
My daytime training passed amid thoughts and silent curses directed at my own stupidity. I completed ten sets of twenty push-ups, abdominal exercises, and squats, all while continuing to 'cast magic' by levitating a matchbox. Between sets, I meditated to recover and performed eye exercises.
My vision had improved enormously since the first time I woke in this little body, though it was still far from perfect. The results became noticeable almost immediately, so I kept working. I traced 'figure eights', 'squares', and 'circles' with my eyes. I adjusted my focus and concentrated on several points around the room at different distances. I squeezed my eyes shut beneath my palms to make the pupils dilate, then looked toward the window so the light would make them contract. The purpose was to force the eye muscles to work as well. I categorically refused to remain four-eyed. Or weak and scrawny.
Lunchtime was approaching, and I listened to what was happening downstairs, on the ground floor of Sensei's house. More precisely, in the kitchen. My stomach had begun whining softly, apparently accustomed to a fairly strict feeding schedule. If he threw me out, I wondered whether he would feed me one last time or leave me hungry as punishment.
Exactly two o'clock.
I no longer needed to check a clock. I had completely restored my sense of time. Meditation helped with that, especially since the local sun was constantly hiding behind thick clouds.
Dishes clinked downstairs, followed by the quiet creak of the fūin-refrigerator's door. I crept to the stairs and used a small mirror to catch a view of the kitchen. Aunt Petunia had allowed me to take it from one of her old powder compacts.
A second place setting!
Yes!
They were going to feed me!
I slipped the mirror back into the pocket of my breeches and quietly descended. I had studied Severus Snape reasonably well. His personality definitely resembled Sasuke's in some respects. The important thing was not to anger him again. If he intended to feed me and I arrived late for lunch, he would become angry all over again.
Although he had not even shouted when he expelled me from the laboratory. It would almost have been better if he had. Quiet words were far more frightening.
Perhaps he had simply been afraid for me? Well, yes. I was his responsibility, and then I suddenly pulled a stunt like that.
The promised vial of 'Rowan Decoction' stood at the corner of the table beside my place, properly labeled. The jar in which I had mixed the ointment stood beside it.
Were both of them for me?
Ah, I only hoped this did not mean, 'Take these and get out of my house.'
First, I stopped at the bathroom and washed my hands.
Sensei remained silent, but when I sat down, he pushed the bread and knife toward me. I cut the required half-inch slices. While I worked, I could feel his black eyes watching me.
Yes, of course. Give a child a knife, and the child immediately begins carving himself up. Completely deranged. There was even a saying: 'Let a shinobi amuse himself however he likes, so long as he doesn't cut his comrades.' And here I had started with myself. It looked like the final stage of a collapsing psyche.
Pain felt slightly sharper in this body than it should have, and little civilian Harry Potter's body was more delicate, but the pain was not unbearable. Perhaps wizards also had a high pain threshold because of their magic. That would be useful. At least I would not have to work on that too.
I set down the knife and looked at Sensei. He immediately turned toward the stove as though unwilling to look at me and ladled broth into deep bowls. At the same time, the bread slices I had cut flew toward the toaster, while four boiled eggs rolled over to me.
That was amazing. He did not even look!
What control!
And with so many objects at once!
I quickly peeled the eggs, cut them in halves, and placed them in the broth. I threw the shells into the rubbish bin and rinsed my hands again. The first toast popped up, and we sat down at the table.
So much meat! Parsley too. Add noodles, and it would almost become ramen. It was still delicious as it was, eaten with toast. Aunt Petunia usually made thicker soups, but I definitely preferred thinner broth. Probably because it was more familiar.
There was also a second course made from potatoes, vegetables, and pieces of pork mixed together. It was tasty and filling too. After lunch, I collected the dishes and began washing them. Sensei hesitated behind me, but eventually he was the first to break our mutual silence.
"It looks as though it may rain..." he said.
"Why only 'looks as though'?" I asked in surprise, pausing while washing the pot in which the broth had been made. "Can't wizards tell for certain whether it will rain?"
Sensei froze and looked somehow lost. Then I realized this was part of the 'local culture'.
Whenever Aunt Petunia and I went anywhere, nearly every neighbor began conversations with phrases such as, 'Lovely weather, isn't it?' or 'Did you hear they're forecasting rain this evening?' Aunt Petunia would continue the conversation, and they could discuss the weather for ten minutes before saying what they actually needed or wanted to ask.
It resembled High Speech. I had dealt with aristocrats more than once, and they too could spend hours discussing flowers, the taste of tea, or a painting. Ino later explained that such apparently meaningless chatter contained countless nuances. Entire political negotiations depended on whether your thoughts aligned and whether you could guess what someone was 'obviously' hinting at.
You could stand guard with your ears wide open and understand absolutely nothing, never realizing that two aristocrats had already reached an agreement and exchanged a mountain of political news while comparing tea from Nanbu Province with the previous year's harvest imported from the Land of Bears.
What kind of day was this? I had made a fool of myself twice!
Sensei had never engaged me in polite small talk. He was usually direct, and now, suddenly, he was talking about the weather...
"In principle, a wizard can determine whether it will rain," Snape-sensei said with a scoff, interrupting my racing thoughts. "But doing so requires a certain gift for divination."
"Strange," I said before I could stop myself. "But it shouldn't rain within the next hour. The clouds aren't the kind that usually come before rain, and the wind is too slow today to carry in different clouds and change the weather within an hour," I explained.
"Very well, the clouds..." Sensei said skeptically, studying me as though I were one of his ingredients. "But how did you determine the wind? You are inside the house."
"The window is enough." I shrugged. "There aren't any trees here, but the neighbors have hung out washing. The clouds are moving slowly across the sky as well. That large one shaped like a chicken is still visible in the window and has hardly moved, even though I've been washing dishes for ten minutes. That means the wind speed is low up there too. I'm simply observant."
"Observant..." he repeated.
I nodded.
In my own world, I had not been the most intelligent shinobi. Here, I felt almost like a genius! What if Sasuke had ended up here?
Ah, what a shame...
My best friend could have reached conclusions like these when he was truly eight years old. Unlike me, he would not have been shamelessly using nine additional years of combat and life experience.
"I have considered your actions in the laboratory..." Snape-sensei said slowly, as though forcing out every word. "Your conclusions were... reasonably logical. I also gave you permission to test the ointment. I merely assumed you already had some kind of abrasion. I did not expect such... boldness in your experiments. I hope that the next time we brew 'Skele-Gro', you will not break your fingers to test its effect."
"No, sir." I shook my head. "The ointment was new and had unknown properties. But the reference book you gave me describes all the characteristics of 'Skele-Gro' quite clearly. Besides, your opinion that it should help with fractures—or, as I understood it, restore vanished bones—is enough for me. I have been meaning to ask: where are bones supposed to go?"
"Fractures can become rather complicated," Snape-sensei said with a scoff. "For example, bone fragments may threaten the function of other organs. In such a case, a Healer can vanish a particular bone from the patient's body together with the fragments, after which the bone is regrown. Sometimes that is faster and more convenient than repairing a complex, comminuted fracture. 'Skele-Gro' is also occasionally prescribed to children of short stature as a strengthening medicine to encourage general skeletal growth."
"Would they prescribe it to me?" I asked. "I think I'm small for my age. I'm eight, but I look seven. My eyesight isn't very clear either. Are there strengthening eye drops or spells?"
Sensei considered the question.
"Your height is entirely appropriate for your age, so you do not require 'Skele-Gro'. As for your eyesight, I must disappoint you. No such potions or charms exist. A considerable number of wizards wear spectacles. However, I have heard that healers in Japan can restore even severely impaired vision. I visited the country once for a potioneers' conference. I even studied the language for a time. I wanted to... In any case, it is not important..."
"So a different country has a different language?" I asked with interest.
Different languages in different worlds made sense, but different languages in different countries?!
I remembered the frightening little creatures at the bank muttering in some strange, incomprehensible tongue, but they were not human. Summoning toads presumably spoke Toad. Ninja cats had their own 'meow-speech' too.
"Naturally." Sensei raised an eyebrow. "English is spoken in England, French in France, and Japanese in Japan."
"How many languages do you know altogether, sir?"
"I speak English, French, Italian, and Spanish fluently. My Japanese, Russian, and German are somewhat weaker. I understand a little Gobbledegook. If runic languages are included, then Old Germanic as well. And Latin, naturally."
"Wow!" My respect for Sensei grew. "That's incredible, sir! Are they very different? How many languages are there?"
"There are more than seven thousand languages in the world. Around forty are widely used, while roughly a dozen are spoken by the overwhelming majority of people. There are also many dead languages, Latin being one example. Incidentally, it is the only dead language still used actively. Medicines and herbs are named in Latin, and many spells—especially ancient ones—have Latin roots."
In short, this world continued to stun me.
Seven thousand languages!
"Do they all have different writing systems too?" I clarified.
"Yes," Sensei said with a faint smile.
Apparently, he was relieved to discover that I was not such an overwhelming genius after all.
"Finish washing the dishes, and I will show you several books in different languages."
"Yes, sir!"
Whew! It was good that he had decided to keep me after all!
That meant I could stay!