"So this is my body of steel? I just lie in bed every day and automatically get stronger, unlocking new magic?"
Iain had no idea why he had triggered another new spell.
He only knew that he seemed to have activated another new "talent spell," so he immediately tried to kip up off the bed. Then he tried again. And again.
"Damn this bed! It's too old and falling apart, it's limiting my performance!"
After failing to spring upright, Iain could only roll off the bed sideways while cursing under his breath.
"Meow?"
The racket he made was so loud that Handsome Tabby leapt down from the windowsill, tail puffed up like a bottle brush, round eyes fixed accusingly on the human servant who had interrupted his sleep. The little skeleton also poked its head out from under the bed, jaw opening with a short click.
"Go back to sleep. You too, magic skeleton, keep meditating. Try to evolve into a high-level magic skeleton as soon as possible."
Iain did not bother explaining to either of his non-human companions that his genius had stirred again.
Instead, he shoved on his shoes and ran straight for the window. Going by the front door took too long, the stairs were too many, and the corridor too far. No route was more efficient than the shortcut every room already had.
Thump.
Without hesitation, Iain launched himself out the second-floor window toward the ground below, then immediately rolled forward. And rolled again. And again.
He had learned his lesson from the orphanage days. Out of extreme caution, he had developed the habit of stacking extra "invincibility frames," so he rolled a good dozen times across the ground before finally standing up and brushing leaves and dirt off himself.
"Just to be safe, I need to find somewhere with no one around."
After getting to his feet, the little wizard did not look back. He sprinted straight toward the forest outside town.
The little skeleton climbed onto the windowsill, its skull sticking out past the frame, the black hollows of its eyes following the receding figure. Its jaw opened and shut as it waved both hands at him, making a soft little clack that sounded half like goodbye and half like be careful.
Having learned from what happened at the orphanage, Iain ran all the way out into the empty woods.
The forest lay east of the village. The trees were tall, and no living person or dead one lived there. Dawn had just begun to arrive, sunlight spilling through the gaps overhead and scattering gold across the forest floor.
Iain ran a long time, long enough for sweat to soak through his pajamas, before finally stopping in a small clearing, bracing his hands on his knees and gasping for breath.
"This time, even if I blow up half the forest, the Ministry of Magic won't come arrest me."
There was no one around him. No houses. Just trees, grass, and birdsong.
"Let me see what this new magic's got. Let's find out whether it deserves to follow me."
Once he had caught his breath, the little wizard stood up, closed his eyes, and sank his attention inward.
Those runes were flowing.
The newly active section was like a river that had just thawed in spring, moving through his mind at an even, unhurried pace. Iain focused his will on those moving runes.
He imitated what he had done last time, reaching for them in his mind, trying to activate them.
The experiment went very smoothly.
Magic rose from deep inside his body.
And just like that, the ancient spell activated. Still no wand, no incantation, not even any proper gesture.
"What's this?"
Iain lowered his head.
A faint translucent blue light had appeared over the surface of his body, like a layer of silk soaked in water and laid against his skin.
The light did not cling tightly to him. As the spell activated, it began to ripple outward, spreading away from him like some invisible field being born and then slowly dispersing.
In the end, the whole thing lasted no more than five seconds. The pale blue glow broke apart into tiny motes of light, like disturbed fireflies scattering into the air.
"Why isn't there any huge effect? Where's my ultra-ancient-civilization ultimate magic?"
The result had fallen far short of expectations. Unwilling to accept that, Iain stood there with his ears pricked, listening.
There was no beast's roar. No howling wind. No thunder.
Certainly no dinosaur smashing its way up through the earth, and no armored champions stomping out of hell.
Nothing about it matched what he had been expecting.
It was as ordinary as some sort of glorified illumination charm.
"Did my magic run away again?"
Naturally, Iain refused to accept that among his limited number of talent spells there was one whose only purpose was to turn him into an oversized firefly.
If he wanted to glow, he already had other magic for that. A talent spell ought to do more than this. Even if it could not summon a bone dragon on the spot, it should at least call up a few Dementors.
"I can even accept it being Dark magic. Stop messing around... magic, magic, come out already!"
Iain guessed that his spell was playing hide-and-seek again, just like him, and had run off somewhere nearby. So he immediately began conducting a carpet search of the surrounding area.
"Maybe it's some sort of transformation spell. Maybe I've become the human vessel of an ultra-ancient dark warrior, and the transformation device has quietly materialized somewhere nearby on the ground."
He pulled out his wand and cast the Lighting Charm, using the five-hundred-watt bulb at its tip to search through the forest floor.
At the same time...
On the other side of the hill, at the ruins of the Potter cottage.
That house, half destroyed in an explosion, was now little more than broken walls. The doorframe still hung crookedly from its hinges, and the sign outside had long since become faded and hard to read.
A man was searching through the rubble for something.
He wore a dark turban wrapped tightly around his head, leaving only a pair of anxious eyes visible.
If any Hogwarts student had been present, they would have recognized him. He was their Muggle Studies professor, and the next year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Quirinus Quirrell.
His body trembled slightly, not from the cold, but from fear.
The poor and rather pathetic wretch crouched among the broken bricks and charred beams, furtively turning things over, as though terrified of making enough noise to disturb anyone nearby.
"If I'm caught here, Dumbledore will finish me."
His voice was low, so low it sounded like he was speaking only to himself.
The next instant, something behind his head answered.
"You spineless, useless coward. You should know perfectly well that the most dangerous place is the safest place. Dumbledore hasn't come to Godric's Hollow in years."
"He won't appear here. Your task now is to find out what clue Lily Potter may have left for him."
"Dumbledore has been running around like a madman these past few days, searching for my Horcruxes. He's also been asking all sorts of people whether I forged seven soul vessels before I disappeared."
"He may not have an exact answer yet, but he's clearly discovered something that made him certain I left contingencies behind. You are going to find out why."
The one growing from the back of Quirrell's head could only be Voldemort, the invincible Dark Lord who nevertheless had a remarkable habit of collapsing at critical moments. His tone was full of confusion and fury.
"Yes, yes, my lord. I'll help you."
Quirrell swallowed hard. Fear filled his heart, and a small, ugly sound bobbed in his throat.
He resumed searching, this time moving faster.
Then, suddenly, a noise sounded from the distance.
Very faint. Very far away. Something rustling through the grass.
"Where's the transformation device? Could it be in this pile? It's really good at hiding..."
Along with muttered rambling.
Quirrell looked up.
Beyond the broken wall of the ruins, he saw a boy. Barely more than ten years old. The boy was crawling through the grass like a snake, wriggling along the ground in a way no normal human being should.
"...?"
The cowardly Quirrell nearly screamed on the spot. For a moment, he thought he had run into some unspeakable horror.
"Kill him."
The Dark Lord in the back of his head reacted faster than he did. The order came at once, dripping with malice, as though Voldemort could not tolerate anyone else crawling on the ground in such a sinister fashion.
"That's just a strange child!"
Quirrell's whole body locked up.
His lips moved a few times, but no sound came out.
"Kill him."
This time the voice was sharper, like a needle driven into the back of his skull.
"Aah!"
Quirrell's body convulsed. He clutched his head in both hands, his expression twisting into something halfway between terror and agony.
"My lord, I understand... I understand..."
He begged for mercy at once, then, without another moment's hesitation, pulled out his wand and aimed it at the unlucky boy in the distance.
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light burst from the tip of the wand.
Like an arrow loosed from a bow.