With my new wand, which had a Thestral hair as its core, I made my way in the early afternoon to Madam Malkin's shop, where Professor McGonagall was supposed to wait for me. The shop was located in a large courtyard. The houses in this district specialized in all kinds of clothing. Tailored robes made of fine-looking leather were displayed in the shop windows, and in the shop next door, the owner sold large, pointy witch hats, which, surprisingly enough, matched my taste very well.
A dark blue, large, stereotypical witch hat cost ten Galleons, standing out from the others in my eyes.
With some effort, I tore myself away from the window display and pushed through the crowd.
A few dozen meters farther on, I reached: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. It was marked in large, elegant cursive writing. Large white pillars, which due to the detailed craftsmanship looked very much like Transfiguration, stood to the left and right. The two pillars carried a dome made of transparent crystal, which led all the way to the shop entrance. Sunbeams shining through the dome gathered into spotlights that illuminated mannequins placed beneath the crystallized dome.
On the right side, two mannequins were dancing a waltz: a man in an artistic wizard's coat and a tall woman in a red dress made of soft fabric.
Soft rhythmic music reached my ears.
To my left, a small mannequin was displayed, representing an eleven-year-old boy wearing a Hogwarts uniform.
I caught sight of Professor McGonagall, who was observing the crystal dome with a melancholic expression.
I approached her with silent steps.
"Professor McGonagall, was this dome created with Transfiguration? Similar to how, in the orphanage, a teacup was transformed into a hummingbird with the spell: Afivors?"
Without turning away from the dome, she replied: "With the Afivors spell, no such dome can be created. You will learn this spell at the end of your first year; most will only master it in their second year... To return to your question, this dome was conjured. Conjuration is one of the basic aspects of Transfiguration."
Her expression softened, and a slight smile spread across her face, showing her passion for the subject. "Through conjuration, a wizard can quite literally bring imagination to life. Of course, one must consider Gamp's Laws, but otherwise you can let your imagination run free... ah—" Professor McGonagall restrained her enthusiasm, and through my Legilimency I felt a sense of shame radiating from her.
With a clearing of her throat, she continued: "I created this dome decades ago, shortly after earning my mastery in Transfiguration, through a conjuration spell. Sigh, I still remember how many headaches it gave me to shape the dome so that the light would reflect onto the mannequins. If I hadn't owed Madam Malkin a favor, I probably would have given up after a few days."
I also looked at the dome and examined it more closely. So it had been created by a conjuration spell. The dome had a diameter of 11 meters. With a quick calculation, I computed the volume using the formula for a hemisphere:V = 2/3 · π · r³ ,where pi ≙ 3.14159 and r = 5.5 meters. The volume (V) would be approximately 348.3 m³.
Amazing what a talented wizard can create...
For comparison, this volume would be roughly equal to five 40-foot standard containers, like those ships transport overseas.
"Professor, what mass must one be able to conjure in order to successfully graduate Hogwarts?"
"Oh?" Professor McGonagall turned to me in surprise.
"Conjuration spells are taught starting in fifth year at Hogwarts. In the examination at the end of fifth year, called the O.W.L, students are expected to conjure an object weighing about 50–60 kg. In the final examination, the N.E.W.T, we expect the graduate to be able to conjure 150–200 kg. If someone continues after their studies, they can train as an apprentice under a Transfiguration master. A Transfiguration master can generally conjure an entire ton. However, the magical power required rises exponentially per kilogram if a master wants to conjure more than a ton. Anything above one ton is simply impossible..."
One ton. A whole ton that masters of Transfiguration can conjure. A feeling of awe and reverence overtook me. The difference between me and Minerva McGonagall is indeed abyssal. If she conjured a huge block of iron weighing a ton over my head, how would I stop her from doing it?
What could I do?
Nothing. Nothing!
Through my telekinesis I can lift at most 20 kg. In a fight with Minerva McGonagall, I would end up as a mushy paste of flesh.
Haha, I still have a long and fascinating journey ahead of me to reach such heights...
After a few moments, we stepped into Madam Malkin's shop.
__________________________________________________________________________
With a loud thunderclap, the space around Professor McGonagall warped; her figure distorted and swallowed the Animagus.
I watched the magical particles in the surroundings settle again. It was already evening, and dusk was beginning to fall. The silver crescent moon broke through the horizon and slowly took the place of its counterpart in the sky.
Without noticing it, I had missed dinner; Sister Isabell and the other children would be preparing to go to bed. I dismissed my lateness and the lecture from Sister Isabell as something minor.
Professor McGonagall had given me a small bag in which all my books and additional materials were stored. The size of the bag could be compared to an unusual handbag. In order to store my materials in the inconspicuous bag, Professor McGonagall had enchanted it with an Extension Charm. Furthermore, the bag had not been knitted under normal circumstances, but had been conjured by Professor McGonagall, and finally enchanted...
Hm, in the books, objects that had been conjured by a conjuration spell only had a limited lifespan. Logically, this should also be reflected in reality. But the crystal dome at Madam Malkin's shop, which Professor McGonagall had conjured decades ago, was still there.
Maybe the lifespan of conjured objects depended on the wizard. How much magical power someone channels, or their talent in Transfiguration. This very likely had an influence on the lifespan of conjured objects...
But I considered it more plausible that the unusually long lifespan of the objects conjured by Professor McGonagall had something to do with her inner gift. Every wizard possessed completely different gifts that varied from wizard to wizard.
Since my inner gift: The Eyes of Destiny, has the absurd main ability to see the time and cause of a death, it is not far-fetched to claim that Professor McGonagall's inner gift allows her to increase the lifespan of conjured objects. It is also not unlikely to say that this ability also applies to transformed objects.
It is no wonder she specialized in Transfiguration...
With my new bag, I made my way to the orphanage.
"What magical discipline should I specialize in?" My voice cut through the evening twilight.
Still lost in thought, I pressed the doorbell.
"*Ding!* *Dong!*"
After what felt like a full minute, I heard quick footsteps approaching the door. With a loud creak, the door was yanked open. Out came the loving Sister Isabell.
Ah, her welcoming gaze reminded me of a fury. Charming.
She practically shouted at me, her voice an octave higher than usual.
"Mordret, do you know how long you were gone!? It's already evening, you missed dinner. Everyone else is already in bed!"
Some days I wish my Legilimency were more pronounced, and I wouldn't have to deal with such trifles. Well, this will be the last night I spend in this orphanage. Spending my time in the Muggle world is a waste when I could use my time better to experience the wonders of the wizarding world.
However, I was not annoyed, not irritated by Sister Isabell. Why should I be? Going through life relaxed and with an open mind leads to a more pleasant experience.
What does that say about my personality, about me, if I get upset over such a trivial matter?
"I'm going to bed now," I replied shortly. I did not offer an apology, as I didn't feel at fault for being late.
Without waiting for her answer, I walked past her into the orphanage. I took off my shoes, replaced them with my slippers, and went up the stairs to my room.
"Mordret! Don't even think about coming into the kitchen tonight to make up for your dinner. I will lock the door personally! And because you were late, there will be no breakfast for you tomorrow morning either! Remember that!" Sister Isabell's voice rang out authoritatively in the stairwell.
I gave no answer, merely shrugged.
Once I reached the top floor, I took off my slippers, opened my door, and locked it with my homemade key. The previous one had been confiscated from me by Sister Isabell...
With a snap of my fingers, I directed my magical power outward and telekinetically pressed the switch of my reading lamp, which stood beside my table. Instantly, the room lit up.
My magical action filled me with satisfaction, no matter how small it was.
I jumped onto my bed and settled into a cross-legged seat. Between my legs lay the bag Professor McGonagall had given me. Inside it should be all my school materials, in addition to my wand.
With both hands, I opened the bag. From above, nothing could be seen through the opening. Only pitch-black darkness.
Blue magical particles streamed out of the pitch-black opening. Hm, I had only seen these when Professor McGonagall apparated away from the orphanage. So magical particles related to the space itself?
Hm, maybe I can see more through my strengthened magical vision?
Without worry, I lifted the transformation from my eyes, and they returned to their original golden color. I let a strong flow of magical power pass through my eyes, my sight improved, as did my perception of the magical particles that were everywhere. The blue magical particles became clearer and clearer to me...
Indeed, the blue magical particles streaming out of the enchanted bag were called space particles!
"Haha, interesting!"
I held my newly acquired bag under the lamp, but the light from the source did not illuminate it either. Maybe I can stick my head inside? No, too dangerous.
Too bad I have not learned the Afivors spell yet, then I could have used a bird as my test subject...
Well, never mind.
I stretched out my right hand and reached into the enchanted bag. A slight difference in temperature became noticeable. I pushed my entire hand deeper inside, until my whole arm was swallowed by it. Seen from the outside, this would surely look like a magic trick to a Muggle. Or an optical illusion playing with the observer's perspective.
My right hand grasped a cold metallic object inside. That must be the potion cauldron! Without waiting even a moment, I pulled the cauldron out abruptly.
The opening of the small bag widened to let the larger object inside out.
After a short moment, I was holding a black cauldron with a bronze shimmer. The size of the cauldron could be compared to a typical teapot. The material of the cauldron felt smooth, like polished marble. I tapped the cauldron with my fingertips, and a dull, soft sound rang out. Hm, Potions is taught at Hogwarts by Professor Snape. In the books, the protagonist is bullied by Professor Snape, which is why he cannot stand Potions lessons.
Hopefully his hatred for Harry Potter is an exception and not equal toward all students...
After a short moment, I had spread out all my school materials on my bed.
A pointed black hat. Three black robes with my name tag. A cauldron, beside it a pair of protective gloves made of dragonhide, six glass phials, and a scale. Matching the subject, I added the book Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. Other books were: The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk and Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, which were meant for magic lessons.
Additional books: A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.
Also hidden in the depths of the bag were my telescope and my wand, which from now on I always carried close to me.
My fingers itched to pull out my wand and cast the famous levitation spell from The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1, Wingardium Leviosa. But since my wand was marked by the Trace, I held myself back. Heh, the stupid Trace did not stop me from casting spells. What stopped me from using the levitation spell wandlessly?
I opened my palm and focused on the spellbook. After a short moment, it flew into my hand.
The thick volume felt somewhat heavy. Without waiting another moment, I tore the book open and flipped through the pages—
Huh?!
White, empty pages. Nonexistent spells stared back at me.
They can't be serious!
On the previously empty pages, words formed in elegant handwriting:
*The pages must be released by a qualified instructor. For your safety and equal opportunity, the pages are sealed*
No matter which page I opened, the same two sentences appeared again and again. I sent a huge amount of magical power to my eyes in order to improve my magical vision, hoping to bypass the sealing of the pages, but in vain. One new piece of information I had not known before was the type of magical particles streaming from the sealing spell on the book, called concealment particles.
I searched through the other schoolbooks to examine them for the same sealing. Even without looking at the books, I knew the answer. The purple concealment particles surrounding the books proved my theory. Nevertheless, I opened all the books. Disappointed, I turned my gaze away from them; the same sentence stood on all of them.
Safety, huh?
If the people who established this rule, withholding information in books from others, truly cared about safety and so-called equal opportunity, they would not seal theoretical books that do not require a wand. For example: Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling.
Because pure-blood families have accumulated knowledge for dozens of generations and are not restricted by this "censorship." Years before they can even be introduced to Hogwarts, they can access the knowledge. Muggle-borns, however, cannot.
Equal opportunity, my ass!
Since theoretical subjects are also affected by the censorship, it is likely that there is no free access to the Hogwarts library.
Sigh, I hope my speculations are wrong...
Fucking racist communists!
Slightly annoyed, I packed my schoolbooks and other utensils back into my enchanted bag. I kept the pointed wizard hat, my wizard robe, and my wand with me, since I would need them tomorrow for the first unofficial school day. After that, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, put on my pajamas, and slipped into bed beneath my checkered blanket. After only a few moments, I fell asleep exhausted.
__________________________________________________________________________
[1st September 1988, 9:47 am]
I stood before a magnificent purple locomotive, hot gray smoke rising from the smoke stack. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I expected to smell the typical unpleasant odor, but it was nonexistent.
Around me, students and their families were running, talking, hugging each other one last time before they would see each other again in the Christmas holidays. Although now I should call them the Yule holidays. After all, wizards, witches, and the like in Great Britain are not Christians...
Sister Isabell kindly drove me to the station in her old Golf, where she said goodbye to me and then made sure that I would stay at Hogwarts during the holidays. With great sorrow, I agreed to her suggestion. Ah, the future feeling of homesickness will drive me mad; it is unavoidable.
I rolled my eyes at my own absurd thoughts and walked toward the Hogwarts Express. Smoothly, I squeezed myself between a group of Gryffindors who were speaking carefreely with one another. At one entrance to the train stood a somewhat older wizard with an artistic mustache, a walking stick, and a brown pipe. Every time a student entered, he asked for their school letter.
A security measure, I assume?
Forging one is no problem with magical abilities. There is a duplication spell in the Harry Potter books that allows an object to be duplicated. However, I cannot recall the exact name of the spell from François' memory. A duplication spell can nevertheless be undone with a simple Finite Incantatem, the general counterspell, which makes it poorly suited for forgery. There are very likely better spells I do not yet know, which cannot be undone by a Finite...
That is why I was surprised that the wizard standing in front of the train entrance did not use a spell to verify the letter.
I could not rule out that he was using his inner gift, but the dormant magical particles in his surroundings quickly erased that thought.
With a shake of my head, I pushed the thoughts aside, conjured my school letter from my enchanted bag with a small hand gesture, and wordlessly handed him the letter. He skimmed over it for a moment and returned it to me in less than two seconds. The boredom and apathy I sensed from him made it clear that he did not take his job especially seriously.
With my pointed hat on my head, I set off into the train that would bring me into the wizarding world.
[Words:2961]
[A/N: I changed MC's name from Kiran —> Mordret]