Merlin raised an eyebrow. "I've succeeded?"
It shouldn't be that surprising, right? As he recalled, his mother had said new mages usually took about a week to a month to sense their magic power. He'd just managed it a few days earlier.
His mother, however, just stared at him with wide eyes. It took her a moment to compose herself.
"That's… really surprising," she said at last, blinking a few times. "Tell me then, son—how does it feel?"
Merlin thought for a moment, nodding slowly. "It feels… hmm, how do I explain it? A bit like something flowing faintly under my skin. It's warm, but not exactly heat—more like... a quiet pulse."
"I see," she said knowingly. "That's more or less how it's supposed to feel." Then her expression softened, a touch of gentleness in her eyes. "You really gave me a surprise with this one, dear."
Merlin couldn't help but ask curiously, "But Mother, why is that so surprising? I just succeeded a few days earlier than usual, no?"
At his words, his mother laughed. "No, it's not that simple. I lied to you."
He blinked. "You… what?"
"New mages can't usually sense their magic power on their own," she said, still smiling. "Not without the help of a guidance potion. I mentioned it before in my lecture on common potions—it makes a mage's magic power more active and easier to control. What I didn't tell you is that in that state, sensing magic also becomes easier."
Merlin froze, stunned.
"Normally," she went on, "new mages are left to try on their own for about a week. Only after that do we tell them about the guidance potion. It's an old tradition among mages in Aerion Kingdom."
He just stared at her, speechless. What kind of twisted tradition was that? Did mages enjoy watching newcomers suffer?
He thought back to the past few days—hours spent exhausting and recovering his magic power again and again just to sharpen his senses. That hollow, empty feeling inside him had been unbearable.
"Has no one ever succeeded without the potion before?" he finally asked, composing himself.
"There have been a few," she admitted. "But they were all people with exceptional sensitivity to magic. It's a rare talent, usually inherited. I certainly don't have it, so I'm not sure where you got yours from."
Merlin gave an awkward smile. "Maybe I really am a genius."
He couldn't exactly tell her he had another self in a different world who could already cast spells, could he?
"Well, perhaps you are." Her expression brightened, pride practically glowing in her eyes.
Merlin hesitated for a moment before asking, "Then, Mother… can I learn the shaping exercises you've been mentioning now?"
He saw a faint hesitation flicker in her eyes, but after a short pause, she nodded. "Alright. I thought we'd wait a week or two before getting to that, but since you've given me such a pleasant surprise, I suppose we can start early.
First, let me guide you in channeling your magic power."
It turned out to be easier than he expected. In fact, ever since he had learned to sense his magic power, he could already somewhat move it. Magic power, he found, was a lot like one's limbs—it simply needed to be guided with will. The problem was, it moved clumsily, slow and heavy, like a sluggish snail.
It took him nearly an hour to gather a small amount in his palm, and another to make it extend just past his skin.
His mother nodded approvingly. "Good. You're progressing fast. Now, let me explain the principle behind the basic unstructured levitation spell."
She picked up a small pebble from her desk and set it on the table. "The idea is simple: shape your magic power to wrap around the object, then will it to move."
It sounded simple enough in theory. In practice, it was anything but that.
The magic inside his body, though sluggish, at least listened to him. But the moment he tried to move it outside, it was like a bad connection—sometimes it responded, sometimes it didn't, like a signal flickering in and out.
He tried again and again to wrap his magic around the pebble, but it didn't move an inch.
Eventually, his mother sighed and gave him a faint smile. "That's enough for today. You can keep practicing during your free time."
Before he could argue, she gently pushed him out of the study.
Standing in the hallway, Merlin looked down at the pebble in his hand.
"Well… another task to grind."
With that, he turned back toward his room. Looks like he'd be pulling another all-nighter today.
...
Augustin's Orphanage, London
The month passed in a flash. On the morning of 1st September, Merlin was packing his luggage in his room. In fact, calling it luggage would be overdoing it.
There was nothing aside from a few pairs of clothes and his bedside clock—the first thing he had ever bought with his own money in this world. He still remembered saving for it, pound by pound, for a year.
After fitting everything in his trunk, he glanced around the cramped room he'd lived in for eleven years. Strangely, he didn't feel any nostalgia or reluctance—only relief.
After one last look, he picked up the trunk and walked out. Professor McGonagall had taken care of his paperwork, so he didn't need to notify anyone before leaving.
He left directly through the main entrance, took a taxi, and gave the driver the last few pounds in his pocket, watching London's early morning blur past the window.
An hour later, he stood before the legendary brick pillar between Platforms Nine and Ten at King's Cross Station.
He stared at it for a long moment but didn't find anything extraordinary about it. It looked just like a plain pillar.
Without another thought, he tightened his grip on the trunk and walked—no, ran—straight into the pillar. When he opened his eyes, the world around him had changed.
The dull chatter of the Muggle station had vanished, replaced by the clamor of a steam engine, chatter, and the flutter of owls.
Red-brick arches stretched overhead, filled with bustling Hogwarts students in black robes, families waving goodbye, and trunks piled high with cats and owls.
A scarlet train waited on the tracks, gleaming under the morning light.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!
Merlin stood still for a few seconds, taking it all in. Even though he'd seen this scene in movies, seeing it in person was entirely different. The Hogwarts Express now stood right before him, and he was going to board it.
It felt so... unreal.
Suddenly, a boy pushing a cart bumped into his trunk from behind, waking him out of his daze.
"Sorry!" the boy muttered before rushing off. Merlin blinked, realizing he'd been standing in the middle of the way. He quietly stepped aside and cast one last glance at the platform before dragging his trunk onto the train.
As he walked down the corridor, he peeked into the compartments one by one and found most of them already full.
Halfway through the train, he finally spotted an empty compartment. Sliding the door open, Merlin pulled his trunk in and sat by the window. His gaze drifted outside, taking in the sight of the crowded platform.
"I wonder if I'll see any familiar faces," he muttered under his breath.
It was still 1989. The Savior wouldn't enter Hogwarts for another two years. That meant he'd be in the same year as the Weasley twins and Cedric Diggory. The thought made him look forward to Hogwarts even more.
After a moment, he reached into his pocket and took out a small pebble. Placing it on his lap, he drew in a quiet breath and channeled his magic power to wrap around the pebble. The pebble trembled slightly, and then rose into the air.
Time passed, and beads of sweat began to form on Merlin's forehead as he concentrated. It looked simple on the surface, but it was anything but that.
He had to keep his magic power tightly wrapped around the pebble while simultaneously adjusting the input of magic power every second. A little too much or too little, and it would drop.
After a while, Merlin felt himself reaching his limits and stopped supplying magic power. The pebble fell back onto his lap with a soft tap.
Wiping his forehead, he let out a sigh. "Still about a minute…"
This had become part of his daily routine these past few weeks. Whenever he had free time, he practiced this shaping exercise taught by his mother.
The results didn't seem impressive at a glance. A simple levitation charm could achieve more with much less effort. But that wasn't the main purpose of the exercise. It was to increase his control over his magic power—and it held up to it. A week into practicing, and his proficiency in charms skyrocketed.
He had already learned all eight spells mentioned in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One and could cast them fluently now.
He had also finished reading the rest of his textbooks, though there were still a few things he didn't fully understand which he planned to inquire about once the term began.
Just then, the compartment door slid open with a soft click. Merlin looked up and saw a black boy around his age standing at the doorway, looking inside curiously.