In the Harry Potter world, the most famous school of magic is Hogwarts—no question about it. All the other schools have to settle for trailing behind. In the province of Skyrim, the most famous magic academy is the College of Winterhold. Its history can be traced all the way back to the First Era, when the great Nord mage Shalidor created a place for spellcasters to meet and exchange ideas, a system that later generations of mages have tried their best to imitate.
If you compare the two schools, Hogwarts is like primary plus secondary school. It has a complete teaching system, stricter school management, and the young students get a "relatively safe" environment in which to grow up—relatively being the key word. Magic is dangerous no matter what you do; even Muggle schools have fatal accidents from time to time, so the odd "incident" in a magic school is nothing out of the ordinary.
The College of Winterhold, on the other hand, is more like a university. As long as you pass the entry tests, you can freely choose your field of study, with far fewer restraints. Naturally, the risks are greater too. Apprentices who secretly summon Daedra in the depths beneath Winterhold tend to end up as nothing but scattered bones.
Skyl took advantage of the holidays to buy one copy of every book Flourish and Blotts would sell him. Now they'd all become exhibits in the Tower of Tomes, filling three whole walls of shelves. Looking at those packed bookcases, Skyl felt a deep, hoarder-ish joy welling up inside him.
In terms of theoretical knowledge, he was more than ready to sit his O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) and N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests—the name really does mean that).
In terms of practical ability, Skyl's spellcasting had also made huge strides. He had mastered nonverbal and wandless casting for every spell in his textbooks. That was a remarkable achievement. Many ordinary witches and wizards would never even get close to that threshold in their entire lives. To Skyl, they were just academic ghouls, waving their wands like fools and clinging desperately to the rigid systems left behind by their predecessors. Only wizards who had touched the roots of magic itself could casually weave spellcasting into their everyday lives.
Skyl hadn't been born especially gifted. Before his transmigration he was just an ordinary man. But now he was a god of magic. Anything he didn't understand, he could figure out with a bit of practice inside the Tower of Tomes.
With the level of power and knowledge he had now, never mind being a fifth-year transfer student—he could have applied directly for a teaching post and done just fine.
So was there any point in going to Hogwarts at all? Absolutely. Skyl had his eye on the Hogwarts library. Besides, there was nothing wrong with being a student. He liked the feeling of being on campus, dealing with people, living carefree days that flashed by in an instant. Once you were grown up, you didn't get that kind of leisure back.
Apart from Hogwarts, Skyl also fully intended to visit the College of Winterhold. It wasn't just to study The Elder Scrolls–style magic, and not only for their library. More importantly, the College's questline was linked to a very important artifact—the Eye of Magnus.
Skyl wouldn't say he was drooling over the Eye of Magnus… but he had been coveting it for quite a while. Why? Well, that story had to start from the creation of the world itself…
Magnus was one of the creator-gods, known as the Architect. The design of the mortal world was His work. But when He realized that maintaining Mundus would require enormous sacrifice—even the possible loss of a god's life—our good friend Magnus proved to have absolutely no sense of political duty. He grabbed his toolbox and legged it overnight with the rest of his engineering team.
Over in another universe, Comrade Pangu had just squared his shoulders and split heaven from earth without a word. The difference between gods was really painfully obvious.
The way these gods escaped was quite special: they literally punched holes in the sky that led to the realm of pure light. Light spilled in through those holes and into the mortal world. That's why, in The Elder Scrolls, the sun and stars are actually just those openings. The biggest one Magnus made back then is what we see as the sun.
The energy pouring in from the realm of light is the source of all magic. The ultimate ambition of every mage is to reach that realm—Aetherius—and see it with their own eyes. Legend has it that the great mage Shalidor once visited the realm of light himself. The founder of the College of Winterhold really did have unmatched prestige.
The Eye of Magnus is said to be an artifact Magnus left behind, filled with inexhaustible magical power.
Skyl wanted the Eye of Magnus as the energy core for the Tower of Tomes. With that in place, he could squander magic as freely as he pleased, like a truly omnipotent god.
September first in World I was fast approaching when Gringotts sent word to Skyl: they had found a seller willing to part with a house-elf. Skyl happily lugged a suitcase full of gold to the bank.
The wizard selling the elf had brought his son along. When Skyl arrived, the boy was clinging to his father, begging him.
"Dad, don't send Gally away, please, don't sell him."
The house-elf in question stood off to one side. He looked to be in fairly good shape—his skin still tight and smooth, his eyes bright and clear—so he probably wasn't very old. At the moment, though, his head drooped and his face was shrouded in gloom.
"Oh, excuse me," the well-dressed wizard said, nodding to Skyl as he lightly patted his son on the shoulder. "Don't be like this. Our family needs the money."
Skyl politely asked the wizard to step into a nearby private meeting room. "Let your child and Gally say their goodbyes," he suggested, smiling at the boy. The boy just glared at him angrily.
Once they had entered the meeting room, Skyl's expression turned serious. "You really shouldn't have brought your child along for this transaction."
"Cheney is a stubborn boy. Let's talk price. To be honest, I really don't want to sell Gally. He's a hardworking and clever little elf, very capable…"
The wizard launched into a stream of praise for his "commodity".
Skyl dropped the suitcase in front of him. "All right. Take this. From now on, forget about Gally. He's my servant now."
The wizard was clearly displeased with the boy's earlier attitude and barked, "Enough. You don't understand what Gally means to our family at all. He isn't just a house-elf! He's family! He—"
Outside the meeting room, the boy hugged Gally tightly, secretly cheering his father on when he heard that furious declaration.
"Gally, did you hear that? Maybe Dad will change his mind and let you stay!"
Inside, the wizard's eyes bulged and his aura swelled like an enraged lion's. His hands, however, were very calmly and very slowly undoing the clasps on the suitcase. Facing Skyl, his gaze kept drifting downward as he shouted,
"If you think you can buy a member of our—cough, ahem, khh—our family with mere money, then you are sorely, sorely… ahem… mistaken…"
The moment the blinding glow of gold lit up his face, the raging lion turned into a neutered housecat. His tone fell off a cliff, and his voice went syrupy and cloying. He kept coughing like he had hundreds of fish bones stuck in his throat.
Skyl: calm new-rich stare.jpg
The wizard's pale, greasy face shone with a yellowish reflection. He let out a hearty laugh and changed his tune.
"But then again, entrusting a family member to a friend who'll sincerely treat him well is a thousand times better than keeping him in a miserable household, isn't it? Doing business with you has been a delight, my young sir. May Merlin bless your generosity. May you excel in your studies and rise above all others."
Skyl smiled faintly. He found the whole scene rather amusing—watching a self-important gentleman bow and scrape under the lure of gold. As an adult himself, Skyl completely understood the wizard's behavior. He just couldn't help feeling a little wistful. There had been a time when he'd longed for gold with all his heart, and now that gold was nothing more than rubble and clay to him. Some changes really did come in a flash.
So long as he held great magical power, he would never again have to curry favor with anyone the way this wizard did.
When Skyl left Gringotts through the main doors, Gally sobbing quietly behind him, the wizard also emerged, his son still in tears at his side. The well-dressed man had cast a Levitation Charm on the heavy gold so that it floated along as lightly as his conscience.
"All right, that's enough crying, boy. You have no idea how much money we just made…"
His muttered comfort faded into the distance.
Skyl, however, ran into an unexpected acquaintance.
"Oh, Merlin's beard, Professor Quirrell—what a pleasure to see you. Thank you again for all your help."
Professor Quirrell, purple turban on his head, was sitting by the roadside, apparently watching Gringotts—or perhaps keeping an eye on the wizards going in and out. At the sight of Skyl he looked momentarily flustered, but he quickly forced a smile. The two exchanged a few polite greetings and then parted ways in a hurry.