Before he realised it, the bowl was empty. He'd licked clean every drop of the nourishing soup, and it had worked its restorative magic, warming him from within and soothing his damaged throat until his voice felt almost normal again.
As he set down the spoon, he became acutely aware of two pairs of eyes studying him keenly. Their gazes tracked his every movement with scientific interest, as if observing some fascinating specimen.
"So do you remember your name now?" Her eyes held carefully controlled pity, though he noticed she'd somehow blocked his Legilimency; nothing could be read even as the two locked eyes.
"No. I still don't remember anything, sorry." He answered with a sigh.
Both adults exchanged meaningful glances before Dalton rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"But this won't do at all, would it..." Sophie murmured, "The boy must choose a name."
The prospect sent unexpected excitement coursing through him.
A new name meant a fresh identity, the chance to forge something entirely his own in this magical world. No more painful questions about a past that didn't exist.
"Okay, please choose one for me," he said, allowing genuine enthusiasm to colour his voice and expression.
The beaming smile he'd displayed was real. It was the first time he'd felt authentically joyful because he'd finally get to have a name again.
He didn't mind Sophie choosing it for him, because she had shown him nothing but kindness since his arrival, treating him with maternal warmth despite being a stranger. In a world that had seemingly abandoned him, she and Dalton represented an unexpected sanctuary.
I'm genuinely grateful. Whatever debt I owe them, I want to repay it, however I can.
His smile seemed to melt Sophie's heart entirely, while even Dalton couldn't quite suppress an amused grin.
After a passionate discussion between the adults, Sophie emerged victorious, practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of naming a child.
"So how about... Zack? Do you like it? Is it okay?"
The rapid-fire questions tumbled out as she awaited his response with eager anticipation.
The name resonated through him. Simple, strong, distinctly his own. It was more than just a name to him; it served as an anchor to reality, a proof that he existed as something more than displaced consciousness or parasitic entity.
From today onwards, I am Zack.
A subconscious grin spread across his features. "Thank you," Zack replied.
Once his name was chosen, the three had a conversation. Or rather, a comprehensive orientation to his new living situation: house rules, boundaries, expectations. Nothing unreasonable: no wandering after dark, no leaving the pub unattended, basic courtesy toward his hosts.
They gifted him the room he'd been recovering in as his personal space, while they would share the room across the hall.
At one point, the conversation shifted before he'd even noticed. Sophie regaled him with stories from her own childhood, including a harrowing tale of being lost until tracking charms on her shoes led rescuers to her location.
He knew that Sophie sought to grow closer, perhaps even dispel his fears by relating a story similar to his own. For that, Zack was grateful. Though it wasn't needed, the intention was truly sweet.
Several bowls of soup and numerous lighthearted conversations later, exhaustion claimed them all. Zack retreated to his room while his hosts remained below, cleaning dishes and securing the establishment for the night.
As he entered through the door, he noticed the room had been restored to pristine condition, bed made with military precision, surfaces gleaming, fresh flowers releasing the delicate fragrance of dandelions.
The space felt cool despite the absence of windows, clearly maintained by multiple enchantments.
Lying back on the impossibly comfortable bed, he stared at the ceiling and began planning his immediate future.
I've got a place to live, at least for now. Sophie and Dalton also seem to care more than I thought. It's a blessing.
He was grateful that his foundations were stable. Now came the real work: acquiring power.
But how do wizards actually grow stronger?
Age alone couldn't be the answer. From the movies he recalled, he'd observed too many variations in magical ability among children of similar years.
Lineage seemed a promising answer until he considered Hermione Granger, whose Muggle-born status hadn't prevented her from becoming one of the most accomplished witches of her generation.
Maybe, talent?
But Neville Longbottom's transformation from a bumbling student to hero also suggested that raw ability wasn't the complete picture.
Something had changed between his early struggles and later triumphs.
Knowledge and practice.
The conclusion crystallised with satisfying clarity. Magical power grew through understanding and application. Talent might determine the rate of progress, but dedication could overcome almost any limitation. And he was sure that right now, no one burned with greater desire for magical mastery than he did.
Wandless magic will be my first milestone.
The goal felt appropriately ambitious. At his age, mastering magic without focus instruments would place him at the top. Most children his age hadn't even begun formal magical education, let alone attempted such advanced techniques.
But desire alone wouldn't suffice. Magic was clearly more complex than simple willpower.
if raw determination could activate it, his near-death experience should have triggered something spectacular. Instead, he'd achieved nothing beyond instinctive Legilimency.
I need to understand the fundamental principles first.
Theory before practice. Knowledge before power. His eyes drifted, and the bookshelf across the room beckoned like a treasure vault waiting to be explored.
He approached the collection with scholarly reverence, cataloguing titles and assessing their potential utility. Most proved too advanced or specialised for his current needs, but several caught his attention:
"Fables of the Wandering Mage" suggested a historical perspective on magical development.
"A Comprehensive History of Alchemy: 7th Edition" implied systematic approaches to magical transformation.
"Fantastic Beasts: A Magizoologist's Guide" offered insight into magical creature abilities.
"Arithmancy: Advanced Edition" hinted at mathematical foundations underlying spellwork.
"Potioneer's Cauldron" promised practical magical crafting knowledge.
"A Guide to Momentum" appeared most immediately relevant to his needs.
After contemplating, he settled on the momentum guide as his starting point. The slim volume promised a foundational understanding of magical principles governing movement and force.
Settling into bed with his chosen text, Zack opened to the first page and began reading with intense focus.
The book explored magical mechanics in fascinating detail—how spells like Arresto Momentum, Carpe Retractum, and Accio interacted with physical laws, why precise control was essential for safe spellcasting, and the relationship between magical intent and practical effect.
The book was intellectually stimulating, but frustratingly incomplete. The text assumed readers already possessed wands and basic spellcasting ability. It was a guide for refining technique, not learning fundamentals.
I need something more basic. Maybe an Introduction to magic itself?
What followed was an exhaustive survey of every volume on the shelf.
He absorbed whatever knowledge each offered, from arithmetic and magical theory to historical accounts of legendary wizards. His mind catalogued useful information while searching desperately for the foundational text that would unlock his path to power.
Hours passed unnoticed as dawn approached. Despite his thoroughness, no single book addressed the question that consumed him: how did one actually begin using magic?
It seems I'll have to develop my own approach.
He concluded with weary satisfaction.
I'll try to build understanding from the ground up through experimentation and instinct.
As exhaustion finally claimed him, Zack smiled despite his frustration. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but tonight had provided something equally valuable: the beginning of his magical education. Knowledge was power, and power would ensure he never again faced the world defenceless.
One step at a time, he promised himself as his consciousness faded.
A plethora of books lay scattered around him like fallen soldiers after battle, but the war for magical supremacy had only just begun.