Vast Sea Visualization

In a world where magic meets the mind's vast expanse, Lucas, reborn as Harry Potter, wields the power of visualization to master his emotions and wandless magic. With a tranquil sea as his mental fortress, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery and magical mastery.

Evoxius · Book&Literature
Not enough ratings
84 Chs

Toddler Prodigy

Petunia Dursley smoothed the front of her floral-print apron, frowning as she surveyed the spotless kitchen with a critical eye. The countertops gleamed, reflecting the morning sunlight streaming through the window above the sink. The tiled floor shone, freshly mopped and free of any stray crumbs or dirt. To the casual observer, everything appeared in perfect order.

And yet, an uneasy feeling nagged at the back of Petunia's mind, a persistent sense of unease she couldn't quite shake. Nearly a month had passed since that peculiar evening when she could have sworn her nephew, Harry, had done something...odd. Unnatural, even. But the memory had faded, like a half-forgotten dream, the details slipping away no matter how hard she tried to grasp them.

Shaking her head, Petunia turned her attention to the calendar hanging on the wall beside the refrigerator. August 15th – the date circled in bold red marker, the day she had both dreaded and anticipated for weeks. Harry's first day of pre-school.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the quiet, intense boy with those piercing green eyes that always seemed to bore into her very soul. There was something...off about him, something that set her teeth on edge and raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck whenever he was near.

Perhaps it was for the best that she had enrolled him in a different pre-school than her own son, Dudley. Her precious Duddikins didn't need to be associated with that...that freak. The mere thought of Harry being around her darling boy filled Petunia with a sense of dread, as if some primal instinct warned her of the potential danger lurking beneath Harry's deceptively innocent facade.

With trembling hands, Petunia double-checked the enrolment paperwork spread out on the kitchen table, reassuring herself that she had taken every precaution. Harry would be attending Little Willows Pre-School, a small, private institution on the opposite side of town from Dudley's school. The distance would ensure their paths wouldn't cross, at least not until Harry was old enough to attend primary school.

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that her fears were irrational, that Harry was just a child, the same as Dudley. But Petunia quickly silenced it, her lips pressing into a thin, determined line. She knew better than to underestimate the potential for...abnormalities...in that boy.

Hadn't she seen it firsthand, growing up with her freak of a sister, Lily? The strange occurrences, the unexplained phenomena that seemed to follow her like a shadow? Petunia shuddered at the memory.

She would not make the same mistake with Harry. She would be vigilant, watchful, ever on guard for the first sign of his true nature revealing itself. And if – no, when – it did, she would be prepared to take whatever actions were necessary to protect her family.

The sound of small footsteps approaching drew Petunia from her thoughts, and she turned to see Harry standing in the doorway with his green eyes fixed on her face. A chill raced down her spine, but she quickly schooled her features into a tight, forced smile.

"Good morning, Harry," she said with false cheerfulness. "You all ready for your first day at your new school, then?"

Harry regarded her silently for a moment. Then, to Petunia's surprise, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he replied politely. "I'm very excited to start pre-school."

Petunia blinked, once again taken aback by the way he spoke like an adult. For a fleeting moment, she found herself wondering – not for the first time – what was truly going on behind those enigmatic green eyes.

But she quickly pushed the thought aside, straightening her shoulders and gesturing towards the front door. "Well, then, let's get a move on," she said briskly, betraying none of her inner turmoil. "We wouldn't want you to be late on your very first day, now would we?"


The shrill ringing of the telephone sliced through the tense silence hanging over the Dursley household. Petunia, perched rigidly on the living room sofa with her hands clenched tightly in her lap flinched at the sudden noise. A chill ran down her spine, and with reluctant steps, she rose and made her way towards the ringing phone with her heart thudding against her ribcage.

Petunia reached out with a trembling hand, images of catastrophe flickering through her mind. Ever since Harry had arrived on their doorstep, a constant knot of worry had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach, whispering dark warnings whenever the boy was involved.

"H-hello?" Her voice wavered as she lifted the receiver to her ear, bracing herself for bad news.

"Mrs. Dursley?" The voice on the other end was bright and breathless with excitement. Petunia recognized it at once – Miss Applewood, the overly cheerful young woman from Harry's pre-school.

"Speaking," Petunia replied curtly, her grip tightening on the phone until her knuckles turned white.

"Oh, you simply won't believe it!" Miss Applewood gushed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Your nephew, Harry – he's an absolute marvel, a true prodigy! I've never encountered a child quite like him."

Petunia felt her stomach drop, that familiar sense of dread settling like a dragging weight. Of course, she thought bitterly. Of course the boy would be... different.

"What do you mean?" Her voice was strained as she fought to remain composed.

Miss Applewood let out a breathless laugh, clearly beside herself with enthusiasm. "His mental development is unprecedented for his age! He's not even three yet, but he shows the cognitive abilities and emotional maturity of a child twice – perhaps even three times – his age."

Petunia's jaw clenched until it ached, and her free hand balled into a fist. Of course it would be something unnatural, something that set the boy apart as a freak.

"During our lessons today, he displayed remarkable focus and comprehension," Miss Applewood continued, oblivious to Petunia's growing unease. "He grasped complex concepts far beyond what we'd expect of a toddler, and his ability to articulate his thoughts was truly astonishing."

The teacher paused, and Petunia could practically hear the smile in her voice as she added, "It was almost... eerie, really. As if he were an old soul trapped in a young body."

An old soul. Petunia suppressed a shudder, those words striking a chord deep within her. Was that the unsettling presence she sensed lurking behind Harry's eyes?

"In light of his extraordinary gifts," Miss Applewood forged on, "I feel it would be a disservice to allow Harry to remain in a pre-school environment. He needs greater stimulation, something more challenging."

Petunia's heart sank as she sensed where this was heading, dread coiling in her gut.

"With your permission, I'd like to approach the school board about allowing Harry to enrol in elementary school early." Miss Applewood's voice brimmed with poorly contained glee. "I truly believe he has the ability – intellectually and emotionally – to excel in a more advanced setting."

Silence fell over the line as Petunia struggled to find her voice. To have the boy thrust into a world of older children, surrounded by prying eyes that might witness his abnormalities firsthand – it was a risk she wasn't sure she could stomach.

Yet a nagging voice whispered that perhaps this was for the best. If Harry's mind truly operated on such an advanced level, keeping him confined to pre-school might only serve to stunt his growth, to repress 'abilities' that could potentially burst forth in uncontrolled ways that could harm their family.

"Mrs. Dursley?" Concern laced Miss Applewood's tone as she prompted, "Are you still there?"

Petunia took a deep breath and decided her course.

"Yes, I'm here. You have my permission to approach the school board about accelerating Harry's schooling. If his... intellect... are as exceptional as you claim, he ought to be appropriately challenged."

The words tasted like ash, but Petunia knew there was no other viable option. She would simply have to be more vigilant than ever in keeping watch over the peculiar child.

"Wonderful!" Miss Applewood exclaimed with delight. "I'll begin the process straight away. Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Dursley. I truly believe this is the ideal path for a gifted child like young Harry."


A warm sunbeam painted a square of light on the worn Persian rug, the dust motes dancing in the golden beam. The gentle ticking of the antique wall clock blended with the muted scratch of Alice's pen as she made notes in the margin of an open textbook. A fragrant earl grey tea, half-consumed, grew cold and neglected on her cluttered desk.

The sudden rap of knuckles against the office door broke the peaceful atmosphere. Alice glanced up, her brow furrowing momentarily before she smoothed her expression. "Come in," she called out, setting her pen aside.

The door swung open to reveal an odd trio - an older woman with shrewd eyes and a perpetual downturn to her lips, a younger woman with a pinched, sour expression, and a small boy no more than a toddler clutching the younger woman's bony hand. The boy's unruly raven locks fell into his startlingly bright green eyes, lending his cherubic face an almost otherworldly look.

Alice rose from her desk, tugging her floral cardigan straight out of ingrained habit. "You must be Mrs. Hetherton," she said, extending her hand to the elder of the two women. "I'm Dr. Alice Newbury."

"Margery Hetherton, yes." The woman's shake was brisk and businesslike. "Little Willows administrator." Her gaze dropped to the toddler. "This is regarding the...request for Harry Potter."

So the peculiar file had been legitimate after all. When Alice first saw the submission for an educational assessment for a child not even three years old, she assumed it was a mistake or prank. But here he was, in the flesh - little Harry Potter himself.

"Of course." Alice mustered her most welcoming smile, turning to the younger woman. "And you must be...?"

"Petunia Dursley." The words were clipped, her lips barely moving, as if speaking left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I'm the boy's aunt and legal guardian."

Alice made a mental note of the curious dynamic as she ushered them to the cozy sitting area. The two women settled on the chairs with Harry ensconced between them. His wide eyes drifted around the room, taking in every detail.

"Well then," Alice said, carefully pitching her tone to one of polished professionalism layered over warmth. "Shall we get started?" She slid into the armchair across from them, back straight but with her body angled in an open, welcoming posture. "As I understand it, you're interested in having Harry assessed for potential accelerated academic placement?"

There it was again - that fleeting look of discomfort, of uncertainty flickering across Petunia's features before the mask of affected disdain resettled. The woman gave a terse nod. "We've been...encouraged to explore alternative educational options for the boy. Due to his..." She waved a bony hand vaguely. "Unique situation."

Alice felt her professional curiosity piqued, but knew better than to pry. Instead, she focused on the child, leaning forward with an encouraging smile. "Well, Harry, I have some activities prepared that will let me get a sense of how that mind of yours works. Does that sound like something you'd be up for today?"

For the first time, the boy's expression melted into the hint of a smile, lighting up his whole face. "Yes, I'm ready," he replied.

And with that, the assessments began. Alice started with some simple blocks and shape sorters, more for establishing a rapport than anything else. But Harry took to the tasks with a focused diligence, and his small fingers neatly moved the pieces with dexterity she did not expect at all from a toddler.

"Excellent work, Harry," Alice praised, unable to mask her surprise as he completed a complex puzzle with ease. "Your spatial reasoning and fine motor skills are incredibly advanced."

Harry simply gave a tiny shrug of his narrow shoulders. "It just made sense in my mind how the shapes should align and interlock."

Exchanging a look with the two women, Alice moved on to the next assessment - receptive vocabulary. She flipped open the Peabody picture book, revealing the first series of images. "Alright, Harry, I'll say a word, and you point to the picture that matches, okay?"

A small nod was his only response as those green eyes sharpened their focus. Alice rattled off the first descriptors - "Feline...Pastry...Arboreal..." - only to have Harry accurately identify the corresponding pictures of a cat, a cake, and a tree without the slightest hesitation.

On and on it went, Alice suppressing her mounting astonishment as Harry defined esoteric words and complex concepts well beyond the scope of even a precocious preschooler. His vocabulary seemed to have no limits.

The tapping of Petunia's fingers against her forearm was the only sound besides Harry's responses. Her bony face had settled into an neutral mask, though Alice didn't miss the slight narrowing of her eyes with each new jaw-dropping display of her nephew's genius.

Finally, Alice set aside the last vocabulary book, a crease etched between her brows as she regarded the small boy with reluctant awe. Moving on to the cognitive and academic testing, she walked Harry through number skills, spatial reasoning, pattern recognition, and reading comprehension assessments.

His performance on the cognitive and academic assessments was amazingly advanced for his age. Mathematical problems and number sequences that would challenge many older children seemed to flow easily in Harry's mind. He could quickly identify complex patterns and reproduce detailed symbols with impressive hand-eye coordination. And when it came to reading comprehension, he demonstrated a nuanced grasp of both literal meaning and metaphorical interpretations - skills Alice typically only saw in much older students. 

The gentle ticking of the wall clock marked the passage of time, each section of the assessment blurring into the next in Alice's mind. She was only vaguely aware of the lengthening shadows outside and the dull ache blossoming at the base of her skull as she focused all her energy on the remarkable child before her.

At last, she set aside the final problem set, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she reached for her lukewarm tea to wet her dry mouth. What was she to make of these extraordinary results?

"Well?" The clipped demand startled Alice from her reverie. Perched on the edge of her chair, Petunia wore a stern expression, but her eyes betrayed a glint of ill-concealed unease. "What's the evaluation, then?"

Alice paused, carefully gathering her thoughts as she studied the two women - and the little boy sandwiched between them. Taking a deep breath, she began slowly, "In all my years assessing children's cognitive abilities and academic readiness..."

She shook her head in wonder. "I've never encountered a student quite like Harry before. His intellectual aptitude and reasoning skills are...unprecedented. Far beyond prodigious, even - greatly outpacing his developmental age and pushing the upper limits of these assessment tools."

A muscle twitched in Petunia's hollow cheek, but her expression remained neutral. Alice pressed on, "Make no mistake, based on my evaluation, Harry shows clear readiness - frankly, an acute need - for accelerated academic instruction and enrichment curricula. He is, quite simply, operating at a level of cognition years beyond his peers."

A heavy silence hung in the wake of her statement. Alice found her gaze drawn once again to the small boy who was watching her with intensely.

Then, Harry spoke up. "Does this mean...I'll get to go to a proper school soon?" A flicker of what could only be cautious hope danced across his childish features.

The unexpected sweetness of the simple question briefly robbed Alice of speech. Blinking hard, she managed a warm smile as she met his guileless gaze. "Yes, Harry...I do believe your 'proper school' days are just around the corner."


The conference room buzzed with quiet murmurs as Alice smoothed her skirt and took a seat at the long table. Her colleagues slowly trickled in, greeting each other with nods and forced smiles. Dr. Jameson, Alice's greying supervisor, was the last to arrive, briefcase in hand. He gave Alice a tight-lipped look before settling into the chair at the head of the table.

Alice shifted in her seat, feeling sweat prickle at her hairline. She clasped her trembling hands under the table as the room fell silent. All eyes turned towards her expectantly. 

Clearing her throat, Alice began. "Thank you all for coming. I've asked you here to discuss some...unusual findings from my recent evaluation." She paused, making eye contact with each person. "The child I assessed, Harry Potter, demonstrated cognitive abilities far beyond what we would expect for his age."

Dr. Singh narrowed his eyes. "How far beyond, Alice?"

Alice swallowed hard. "His scores across multiple assessments were not just advanced - they were unprecedented for a child his age. Truly remarkable results."

The others exchanged sceptical glances. Dr. Jameson leaned back, fingers steepled. "Walk us through the details," he said evenly.

Alice opened the manila folder, revealing reams of data and test scores. "On the motor skills portion, Harry constructed a model tower with astonishing dexterity and spatial awareness. Most children can't replicate that level of complexity until ages five or six."

She flipped the page, her voice gaining confidence. "His vocabulary comprehension was off the charts - he scored a perfect hundred percent on the PPVT vocabulary test. He grasped abstract concepts that genius children often struggle with."

Picking up a pencil, Alice tapped it lightly on the table. "The results go on and on. He excelled at pattern recognition, complex math, critical reasoning - all areas where we'd expect someone his age to be years behind. But Harry...he's operating at a level I've never witnessed in a three-year-old before."

She looked up to find her colleagues wearing matching expressions of stunned disbelief. Only Dr. Jameson still looked composed.

"Those are quite remarkable claims," he said at last. His gaze bored into Alice's. "I trust your evaluation process was extremely thorough?"

Alice gave a firm nod. "Of course. I've triple-checked all the scoring and documentation. These results are legitimate."

An uncomfortable silence stretched until Dr. Singh spoke up. "But...is it even possible for a toddler to have that level of cognitive function? It seems improbable - unheard of, even."

"I understand the scepticism," Alice acknowledged. "Which is why I recommend a re-evaluation by an outside expert. We need to confirm these findings before continuing."

Dr. Jameson gave a curt nod. "A prudent suggestion. Let's arrange for a second assessment right away." He fixed Alice with a pointed look. "In the meantime, I want your full report on my desk within the week. We'll review as a team and determine next steps for Mr. Potter's...unique situation."

The meeting adjourned soon after, colleagues lingering to exchange comments as they gathered their belongings. Alice remained seated, anxiety and exhilaration buzzing through her veins in equal measure.

She knew the re-evaluation would validate her findings about Harry - the numbers didn't lie. But what came after was a challenge unlike any she'd faced before. Just how do you nurture the mind of a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy?


On a dreary afternoon, the Dursley family found themselves crammed into a stuffy meeting room, facing Dr. Alice Newbury and Dr. Michael Davis - two psychologists tasked with evaluating their nephew, Harry.

Dr. Newbury was petite with a warm, reassuring smile, while her lanky colleague sported wire-rimmed glasses, exuding a calm presence that seemed to put everyone at ease, despite the awkward situation.

Between Vernon and Petunia Dursley sat young Harry, a small boy with unruly black hair and bright green eyes.

Leaning forward, Dr. Newbury spoke in a gentle, soothing tone. "We're glad you could join us today to discuss Harry's remarkable intellectual abilities. He's performing at levels we seldom see in a child his age."

Petunia unconsciously sighed, having dreaded this day after seeing the doctors' assessment. Vernon's beady eyes narrowed with resentment - the boy had been an unwelcome burden, and now they were expected to attend meetings because he was some sort of genius? It had to be his freakish magic...

Dr. Davis cleared his throat, papers rustling as he shuffled them. "We've put together some suggestions for Harry's schooling. He would undoubtedly thrive in accelerated classes, special programs, and with ongoing support from experts in gifted education. Many schools have excellent resources, and there are often financial aid options."

The Dursleys exchanged a wary glance at the mention of expenses. Vernon puffed out his chest. "Now hold on, we can't afford some posh private school. We've got our own son to think about."

"We understand your concerns," Dr. Newbury said placatingly, "and we'll explore all options and funding sources to create a personalized plan for Harry's academic and social growth."

Nodding, Dr. Davis pulled out a glossy brochure. "The Perse School in Cambridge has an excellent gifted program and scholarship opportunities substantial enough for a student like Harry, should their assessment deem it a good fit."

Petunia and Vernon huddled together and whispered to each other. Finally, Vernon reluctantly nodded his head. "All right. We'll allow the assessment. If they can provide the best education, he'll attend."

The psychologists exchanged relieved smiles. "Wonderful," Dr. Newbury said warmly. "We'll make the arrangements and support you every step of the way."


The brass lamps cast a warm glow over the polished oak conference table, its smooth surface gleaming like honey. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, leather-bound volumes lending the room a scholarly atmosphere. Through the tall windows, the manicured lawns and historic brick buildings of The Perse School's campus stretched out, a picture of tradition and prestige.

Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, the headmistress, smoothed the skirt of her tailored suit as she took her seat at the head of the table. Her salt-and-pepper bob framed an elegant face with sharp, intelligent eyes that missed nothing. The other attendees filed in - two psychologists in basic business attire, a woman in a floral print dress clutching her purse tightly, a portly man in an ill-fitting blazer, and finally, a small boy.

The child didn't look older than three years old. His raven hair stuck up in tousled spikes, as if he'd just rolled out of bed, but those striking emerald eyes shone with a wisdom far beyond his years. He wore simple clothes - a striped shirt, jeans, and trainers.

"Welcome, everyone," Blackwell began, her refined accent cutting through the silence. "Thank you for being here to discuss young Harry's future at our school."

The woman in the floral dress - Petunia Dursley, Harry's aunt - shifted in her chair, clearly ill at ease. Vernon, her husband, frowned deeply, his beefy face already flushed with discomfort.

"Based on the assessments provided," Blackwell continued, "it's clear Harry possesses an exceptional intellect. His test scores across every metric are off the charts for his age." She turned a warm smile towards the boy. "We would be honoured to have such a gifted young mind join our student body."

Harry inclined his head politely, but remained silent. Vernon harrumphed loudly, drawing all eyes to him.

"Yes, well, that's all fine and dandy," he grumbled. "But what about the practicalities? This fancy school can't come cheap."

"A fair question, Mr. Dursley." Blackwell steepled her fingers calmly. "The Perse has an excellent financial aid program for gifted students from underprivileged backgrounds. Harry's exceptional test scores easily qualify him for a full scholarship - tuition, books, uniforms, and more."

"We would also be providing a specialized learning plan tailored to Harry's abilities," one of the psychologists chimed in – a bony woman with a severe bun. "Accelerated curriculum, enrichment activities, you name it. Our goal is to ensure he remains engaged and appropriately challenged."

"Now hang on just a minute," Vernon cut in gruffly, raising a meaty hand. "He's only a toddler, for crying out loud. All this advanced stuff – isn't that a bit much for a little tyke? No matter how smart he supposedly is…"

The woman's expression didn't falter. "Rest assured, Mr. Dursley, we have extensive experience working with highly gifted children. Harry's intellectual and emotional development put him years ahead of other children his age. He is more than ready for an accelerated learning environment."

"Indeed," Blackwell agreed with a serene nod. "Our initial proposal is to place Harry in the Pelican School of The Perse with our Year 3 class to start, alongside students aged 7 and 8. From there, we can adjust his level as needed, potentially advancing him further if warranted."

As the headmistress continued outlining the detailed education plan they had crafted, Petunia stole another glance at her nephew. The boy sat utterly motionless, hands folded neatly in his lap, watching and listening with that same unnerving intensity. A shiver ran down her spine despite the pleasant warmth of the room.

"...And of course, we would involve you every step of the way as Harry's guardians," Blackwell was saying. "Open communication will be key to ensuring his success." 

She turned her expectant gaze towards Harry. "Well, young man? Are you ready to join us at The Perse School and put that brilliant mind of yours to work?"

For the first time, Harry spoke. "I'm ready," he said, meeting Blackwell's eyes with a solemn nod. "I look forward to learning at The Perse."

At those understated words, Petunia felt something twist in her gut. It was really happening - her freakish nephew, the blight on their normal life, was being welcomed into this world of privilege. A world he didn't belong in.

Blackwell beamed, clearly charmed by the boy's composed manner. "Excellent. Then I believe we're all in agreement?"

One by one, the others around the table murmured their assent. Petunia forced a thin smile and gave a jerky nod, her knuckles white from gripping her purse.

The headmistress rose, straightening her jacket as the meeting ended. "Then it's settled. Welcome to The Perse School, Harry."