10 The Call to Hogwarts

24th August 1991

Birthdays, once a cherished tradition during his early years under the Matron's care, had lost their sentimental value with her passing. Now, they served a more pragmatic purpose—a means to bolster the organization's prestige and reinforce the unity he had meticulously crafted.

In the past months, progress had been made—magic had flourished, the organization had expanded, but his experiments had hit an impasse. Despite his kaleidoscopic knowledge, there was a missing link, a focal point eluding his grasp. His magic had plateaued, unable to manifest the transformative properties he had envisioned.

Null or repetitive results had affirmed a few theories but most were left empty-ended, especially the more esoteric and insightful theories which held little evidence to their backing

He found himself unable to push forward, a realization that, unlike the thrill experienced by other knowledge seekers, brought him no sense of excitement.

There exists a profound distinction between possessing all knowledge and truly mastering it. The former merely sets the stage, while the latter embodies the culmination of understanding—an effect rather than a mere cause.

Despite his considerable mastery of magic, he encountered an insurmountable obstacle in his attempts to imbue it with additional properties. While he could still manipulate light and alter objects, the elusive goal of generating elements remained frustratingly out of reach.

As each day passed, the barrier of knowledge seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow over his endeavours. Experimentation in the absence of foundational rules proved to be an exercise in futility—a stark reminder of the complexities inherent in unlocking truly unique knowledge.

With these reflections weighing heavily on his mind, the shed door creaked open, signalling the end of his retreat. He emerged, resplendent in a crisply ironed suit and meticulously groomed hair—a visual testament to his status and authority. As he stepped into the tepid embrace of the outside air, he steeled himself for the challenges that lay ahead.

With a resigned sigh, a cloud of frost billowed into the air, a testament to the unyielding chill that seemed to persist despite the season's designation as "British summer."

As he readied himself for yet another day of formalities, a distinct flapping of wings caught his attention, drawing his gaze to a peculiar sight before him.

Perched in front of him was a plump bird, its thick feathers warding off the lingering cold as it regarded him with amber eyes—a silent communication of intellect only possible from domesticated creatures

"Hm, what have we here?" He mused aloud, his curiosity piqued not by the owl itself, but by the letter clasped firmly in its talons.

Without hesitation, the owl released the missive before taking flight, its departure marked by the subtle creak of a tree branch under its weight.

"Intriguing," he murmured, his interest now fully engaged by the unexpected interruption in his routine.

Examining the letter closely, he noted the crimson seal adorning its front, its neat cursive script hinting at the sender's identity: "Hogwarts."

"Fascinating, indeed," he thought to himself, pondering the significance of the unique delivery method and the unfamiliar name.

Upon closer inspection, he observed a shield sigil emblazoned at the letter's centre, featuring four distinct animals—an arrangement reminiscent of noble heraldry.

A lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle encircled a prominent "H," each creature embodying its own symbolic traits: courage, cunning, persistence, and freedom, respectively at least, that was his tentative hypothesis.

The emblem itself most likely represented the values of a particular organization or group.

With a delicate touch, he broke the wax seal, revealing the contents within. To his surprise, the letter unfurled on its own, defying gravity as it levitated before him—an unexpected display of enchantment that heightened his intrigue even further.

"Dear Mr. Bondrewd," the letter began, addressing him by his forename, an unusual formality owing to his lack of a surname.

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Ordinarily, anyone in his position might have dismissed such a claim as a prank, especially given his standing. However, the parchment's authenticity was undeniable, evidenced by its inexplicable levitation.

Witnessing a mere letter, dethatched from its magical source effortlessly perform a feat that had taken him countless hours of persistent practice to achieve dealt a sizable blow to his ego. It was a stark reminder of his own limitations, despite his so called 'mastery' of magic.

Yet, amidst the humbling realization came a sense of familiarity and excitement. He was not alone in his abilities. The letter hinted at a community of like-minded individuals, offering the promise of answers to his questions and the opportunity for further growth.

A school with centuries of tradition and knowledge stood to provide him with the training he needed to harness his powers to their fullest potential.

With this revelation came a shift in perspective. No longer could he contain excessive hubris with intense bravado and arrogance. He needed to temper his demeanour, blending in with his peers to avoid drawing undue attention to himself.

If the instructors at Hogwarts were privy to his thoughts and past actions, they might be reticent to grant him access to the full extent of magical knowledge and power.

No, he would need to bide his time, assimilating into the school's culture while quietly pursuing his own agenda.

With this strategy in mind, he continued to peruse the letter, his focus sharper and more intent than before.

"Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment," the letter continued, accompanied by the appearance of a magically produced envelope as he read the statement. It was a display of magic unlike any he had witnessed before, a testament to the wonders awaiting him at Hogwarts.

"Term begins on September 1st. We await your arrival no later than July 31st." With only seven days remaining, the anticipation of embarking on this new journey filled him with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It was the culmination of his aspirations and the beginning of a new chapter in his life.

"-Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress"

Though seemingly insignificant, he made a mental note to remember the names of important figures in this new world he was about to enter. Understanding the key players would undoubtedly prove valuable as he navigated the intricacies of Hogwarts and its magical community.

Tucking the letter into his suit pocket, he pressed on with his venture, striding purposefully towards the nearest group he could spot.

"Tell Bruce and the others to completely clear my quarters, burn the residue," he commanded briskly, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. Without a moment's delay, the group sprang into action, a testament to their unwavering loyalty as they moved swiftly to carry out his orders.

The thought of members stumbling upon what should remain concealed had not even crossed his mind. All his important journals remained securely on his person, safeguarding his most valuable insights. As for the remaining inconsequential yet potentially compromising materials, they had already been destroyed prior to his departure from seclusion.

Now, only remnants of failed experimental projects lingered in his quarters, mostly in the form of inert, non-living organisms.

The revelation of the magical world occupied his thoughts, and in preparation for the future, he felt compelled to wipe the slate clean as he navigated the intricacies of the magical community, particularly concerning the ethical boundaries of experimentation. Not only would this purge remove any evidence linking his experiments to himself, but it would also ensure a fresh start.

A faint smirk played at the corners of his lips, excitement bubbling up within him like a rising tide.

"Only 7 more days," he murmured to himself, his tone tinged with palpable anticipation.