2 Chapter 1: Everybody Loves A Good Training Montage

My eyes slowly creaked open, cringing at the sudden influx of light. I was confused for only a moment before the memories came back to me.

'Holy shit, did I actually die? Where the hell am I?'

Looking around my room, I discovered it wasn't exactly what you'd call luxury. The bedframe I was sitting on was squeaky and looked like it was about to fall apart. The gray-ish wallpaper was peeling in some areas and the windows were cracked. It was a small room, barely big enough to house even a child. Besides the bed, there was only a worn down desk and dresser which looked like they'd fall apart at any moment. Overall, it wasn't a very good start.

There was a mirror in the corner, and what I saw shocked me to no end. What looked back at me from the mirror was… me. Not a new me but the old me. From before I died. Of course not the adult me but a younger version from when I was a kid. It was all the same, the messy black hair, blue eyes, the whole package. The only difference was that I seemed to be slightly more handsome. The idea that I had time-traveled crossed my mind, but I knew I had never been in this room before. I have always had an amazing memory, near perfect actually, and I definitely don't remember this place.

I fell back onto my bed in shock. To stop myself from hyperventilating I fell into a deep meditation. Before I had died (God I actually died I can't believe it), meditation always helped to calm me down and bring me back to a state of peace.

I must've sat there for hours, just meditating. The longer I meditated, the more different I felt. At first, it was nothing. Just a tiny feeling in my solar plexus. A small heat that could barely be felt. Yet it was there. The longer I spent focusing on that small irregularity, the more it could be felt. The small heat turned into a small sun in my mind's eye, a blue star at the center of my being. I immediately knew that was me. It was like how you could feel where your hand was even with your eyes closed. You could always feel it, perceive it. It was me and I was it. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever felt. I tried to poke or prod it with my will and the core barely reacted. Yet it still moved. I slowly focused all my effort on the core, willing a small tendril of power out of it like a solar flare. As I moved it around my body, a sudden shout disrupted my focus, ruining my efforts.

"Orion Wright, get out here right this instant! It's breakfast!"

I was so startled by the sudden noise that I fell off the bed, hitting my face flat on the ground. Now that my focus had been broken I lost the feeling of power I had. I would almost believe it to be a dream if not for the slight awareness I still had of it. I instinctively knew that I could access it again at any time with only a sliver of will, now that I knew where to look.

"Coming!" I called out. Even though I have no idea where or when I am, if someone knows my name they must know me, or at least how my body acted before I inhabited it. I have to try to not arouse any suspicion. The only thing I can really do right now is play along.

Breakfast was a weird experience for me. I was still getting used to the fact that I'd just reincarnated, and my body felt weird as well. It was fine if I didn't think about it much, muscle memory and all that, but when I started thinking about what I was doing it got weird. I pretty much just shrunk by a whole meter, not to mention the other thing that shrunk. Not. Fun. After breakfast, I cleaned the dishes like the matron asked and headed back upstairs.

I felt surprisingly calm throughout the entire meal. Even though I had just died and been reborn, there wasn't much to live for back in my old life. I won't go into details but between a cheating wife and getting laid off at my job, getting hit by that truck wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. I decided to live this life to the fullest. Whether that small blue star from earlier was superpowers, magic, the force or nothing, I would live my life the way I wanted. I wouldn't throw this chance away.

Back in my room, I closed my eyes and got into my meditative pose again. This time it took less than a minute as opposed to the hours it took me before.

Then, I felt it. That spark. It gave off a warmth that was indescribable. Just focusing on it was enough to invigorate me and convince me this was all real. I tried grasping it, but it was like trying to grab water with open hands. Everytime I pulled on it with my mind, I got a little reaction before it went back to inactivity. Resigning myself to hours, if not days of failure, I tried again. Thus began my daily routine.

Every morning I would wake up, practice controlling what I dubbed as my magical core, eat breakfast, do chores, practice some more, eat lunch, practice more, eat dinner, do chores, and finally, practice more until I fell asleep. My days were consumed by magic. I hadn't even started attempting to project my will onto the world, yet I was already in love. The core was me and I was the core. I didn't own it, I was it. And in turn, it was me. I practiced like this for weeks on end until I had an adequate grasp on my core. It took less control and more convincing. I had to convince not only the magic, but myself that it would work without a doubt.

After a little over a month, I was adept at manipulating the energy inside of me to such a degree that I felt comfortable attempting to attempt real magic. Ever so slowly, I coaxed my magic out from my core, down my arm and into my open palm where a feather rested. I slowly pushed the energy out of my hand and onto the feather, willing it to float. I pushed all I had into that single spell, emptying my reserves. I tried harder on this than anything since escaping the Void. I wanted this, no, I needed this to work. I needed proof my labor was not for nothing.

Slowly, almost so slow I couldn't see it, the feather floated away from my hand. Up it went, five centimeters, ten centimeters, fifty centimeters into the air. Feeling my reserves were about to bottom out, I cut off the spell.

I must've stood there for at least ten minutes, just reveling in the fact of what I had just done.

I, Orion, age nine, had just performed Magic.

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From that point on I trained harder than ever. I trained at least twelve hours a day, every day. I still spent at least four hours a day meditating, but the rest was done practicing. Every time I practiced a spell it got easier. What took me thirty minutes before now took me five. I had to meditate after every couple spells as I just didn't have the reserves to continue, but it only took about half an hour to fully refill. Apparently by focusing your whole being into regenerating magic, you could recover at least five times quicker. That helped me rekindle the star that was my core and practice more magic.

After a few months, I was able to levitate multiple objects at once. I started using marbles as they were heavier and denser than a feather so they took more effort. I could also light small things on fire and freeze water and other simple stuff like that. No matter how hard I trained though, I never burned out. Magic was just too much fun. Every time I tried a spell, successful or not, my entire being shook from happiness. I didn't think I would ever get over this.

After around six months, I was able to spin up to ten marbles around my right hand at once, while simultaneously conjuring fire in my left. On July thirteenth my tenth birthday passed with little fanfare. The rest of the kids sang to me and we had cake. None of them cared much for the party itself as I was such a recluse. By now my core had more than doubled in size and intensity. My passive regeneration was enough to indefinitely levitate a few objects or keep a flame lit, but not more than that.

At around nine months I started getting bored with small pebbles and marbles and moved onto medium sized objects such as books or rocks. I was able to lift a few books at a time, but any more than that quickly tired me out. Even still, I pushed myself every day, intoxicated with the feeling actual magic gave me. Every day I improved, getting stronger and better. By now I had some suspicions on where I was reincarnated into. It was 1990, I was in the outskirts of England, and I had magic powers. It seemed pretty clear. Still, I wouldn't know for sure until my eleventh birthday, so until then I would just keep practicing magic.

It has now been a year since I was reincarnated into this world. By now I've pushed the kids and caretakers away. I only came down for meals, and they left me alone in turn. All they knew was that I would spend hours alone in my room and sometimes leave into the forest for hours on end. I was getting quite lonely, but it's too late to fix anything. I'd have to wait until I leave the orphanage to make any friends. By now I was pretty sure I had reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter. Every now and then I saw a strange owl fly by or a man in odd robes walking the street. Without knowledge of the books these would mean nothing, but when put together it painted a broader picture.

I tried to experiment with other spells, such as hexes and jinxes, transfiguration, and enchantments, but it looked like I'd need a wand for that. I did manage some minor transfigurations, but they were all fueled with heavy emotions such as my frustration for not being able to cast any higher level spells. I didn't believe it was a lack of wand, but rather a lack of knowledge. I was going about it wrong somehow, and Hogwarts was the only solution. It seemed that until then I could only practice and refine my technique, waiting for that day to come. Unless I feel how the magic in real spells works, I would have to recklessly experiment and possibly blow something up. I still remembered how Luna's mother died from experimenting, and I didn't want to follow suit.

By my first year and a half in this world my magic had grown by leaps and bounds. I continued to progress well but seemed to hit a wall with my knowledge. Without a wand or formal training there was only so much I could do. I was excited to get my wand and my letter to Hogwarts, it seemed the more the days went by the more I longed to pursue my magical education. Even though I had hit a minor wall with knowledge in relation to spells, my power and control never stopped growing. I was now able to conjure ice, water, earth and fire. I could generate small bolts of lightning, not large enough to do any damage but powerful nonetheless. I was able to levitate almost everything in my room with some struggle and my core was at least five times more powerful than when I first transmigrated here. Whether that was from me growing up, my constant training, or a mix of both was unknown.

On the day of my eleventh birthday, I had the first visitor of my new life. Professor McGonnagal had arrived.