Chapter 302: Returning Home, Turmoil On Horizon
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The link is also in the synopsis.
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"How are you feeling?" asked Alan.
Quinn looked over the late evening New York skyline, glowing up with lights on the buildings that rose up like peeks, and the roads flowed with cars, their headlights making them look like flowing rivers.
"Not at a level I would like— but comfortable enough, I guess," said Quinn.
It was Quinn's last day in America and thus also his last day with Alan. It had been just over ten days with Alan, and every day, they would sit together and, under Alan's guidance, work on the sensitivity activity to help Quinn's soulsense. In the ten days, Quinn hadn't made the same amount of progress he had done in mind magic all those years ago— but that was expected by both because of the nature of soul magic— he had improved, able to clear some of Alan's shroud on his soul, but not to the level where he would be able to see Alan's soul as clear as any other.
"Any idea when you're going to drop your shield?" asked Alan.
"Soon, I'm going to do it soon," said Quinn. "Early July, after I graduate, that's when I will deal with this."
"That's . . . a couple months from now. Are you sure you don't want to do it earlier? I'm not sure if you'd be able to hold on that long."
"Holding on till July won't be a problem. I can judge the progression and my own control over the curse. I just don't want to do it while I'm in Hogwarts— it would create massive difficulties if I lose control there."
"And it would be different when you're outside? Won't that be a much wider environment than Hogwarts?"
"Me staying on Hogwarts doesn't restrict me," said Quinn with a sigh. "I can leave the castle any time of any day without anyone knowing about it— but I'm not sure the 'other' me would want to leave Hogwarts while I'm there.
I'll make arrangements for when I'm graduated to limit possible damages— not that there are going to be any, I'm going to beat it squarely into the dirt."
"I know you said that it would take you around a year after graduation to start the apprenticeship, but if you want, you can come in July, and I can overlook you while you go crazy," offered Alan.
Quinn smirked, "Are you sure? I am pretty strong. You might not be able to handle me— your old bones might not be up to it."
Alan laughed as if he had heard a hilarious joke. "While I might not be much of combatant, Quinn— I'm a very dangerous individual if left alone in a room with, which is why there are a lot of people, including your grandfather, who doesn't prefer to be in the same room with me alone if it is possible."
If Quinn and Alan had just met and didn't have a history together, Quinn would've felt a cold shiver go down his spine, but with their relationship, he knew that Alan wasn't going to do anything particularly unsavory to him.
"By the end of my school year, if I feel that I'm not able to handle it alone and need a level of assistance that only someone of your level can provide, I'd take a Portkey, and you'll have a troublesome guest for an unforeseeable future."
"Troublesome guests are my favorite kind," Alan grinned. "In fact, if it does happen, I'm looking forward to spending some quality with 'other' you because from the memories I have seen, it would be fascinating and fun to rile you up to fan your wrath and challenge your pride every hour of the day, and then see you grit your teeth in frustration because of utter helplessness."
"Even if it is the 'other' me, I pity him."
"On a serious note, Quinn . . . you can come to me anytime without hesitation. It would be better for you and those around you to not let the cursed version of you see the light. Especially since you are much stronger than you were before, and it doesn't look like the unbridled would be touchy with magic."
"You make it sound like I'm the worst without my morals . . . but yes, I will come running to you if needed."
Quinn took out two metallic cards from his jacket pocket and handed them with the golden-yellow gleam to Alan, keeping the card with the blue-gleam with himself.
"You ordered me a Portkey?" asked Alan, taking the standard object used by the American authorities for enchanting Portkeys.
"I delayed your travel back home by so much time, and you helped me so much, it seemed the least I could do," said Quinn. "I'll also be leaving today. I have gotten multiple letters from home, especially from my sister asking me why I dropped in at her boyfriend's workplace without warning— to be clear, I'm the owner of the place."
He had been lucky that it was Abraham's chance to go to Lia instead of her coming to America that he had avoided meeting her.
"Write to me regarding your progress; I shall do my best to use that MagiFax thingy of yours to keep in touch."
"Be careful; you're turning old talking like that."
"Child, you don't know how bright the youthful flames of vigor burn inside me. Even at this age, I can run circles around you."
"Make up your mind if you have old bones or youth flames of vigor."
Quinn's time in America had come to an end.
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"You extended your stay," said George, flipping through some documents with Quinn sitting in front of him. "And you had Alan D. Baddeley stay with you for the time you were there."
"That is correct," said Quinn, looking around George's home office.
"Am I to believe that you just happened to meet him in Manhattan while you were visiting, or was he aware that you'd be visiting?" asked George, and Quinn could feel his silent stare.
"He knew I was in the area," said Quinn; there was no need to hide things . . . at least to a certain limit. "I told him that I'd be joining him after Hogwarts, and well, we ended up talking, and I got interested in a few things which led to us spending time discussing magic at length."
"You told him that you'd be accepting the apprenticeship? So you have made your mind."
"Yes, mind magic would be beneficial to my future magical endeavors, so it is good if I increase my proficiency in it before I take on my other interests."
"What else did you end up doing in America," asked George.
"Hmm? Nothing much, I went around sight-seeing, definitely did something that would've gotten me in trouble with the American ministry," said Quinn, grinning. "Even had some maintenance done on my trusty briefcase from the original store— saw some very fascinating spatial magic, which led me to buy a shelve-tons of books on the subject."
George laughed, "That does sound like you."
"I even met the Broker for a little while," said Quinn. The Broker was American, and because of the nature of his job, he resided in New York when he wasn't traveling. "He's resourceful, to say the least— he has ties with a financial firm owned by a group of squibs, who are managing my investments."
Unlike Quinn's non-magical investments, which Quinn had decided to use the leave to the Broker to handle, George had decided to use the chance to use his investments (that be bought alongside Quinn) to open up a West-owned non-magical focused financial branch to increase their reach in the non-magical world.
"Did you have him buy something else?" asked George
"I had him show me a couple of properties around New York, mostly near the suburbs."
"And, did you buy any?" asked George.
"I did," said Quinn. "I ended up buying a big warehouse with a wide basement."
"A warehouse? Any particular reason for that?"
"Let's just say that I got inspired by someone else who had an exciting warehouse."
There was a knock on the door before Elliot inside. He smiled at Quinn and greeted him before turning to George.
"It's time for us to leave," said Elliot.
George closed the documents and put them into his own briefcase before standing up.
"I'll catch up with you later, Quinn," said George. "How about tomorrow at dinner?"
"I will keep my schedule open," said Quinn with a smile as he waved them goodbye.
Quinn sighed after George and Elliot left. He had failed to inform them about his condition.
'Grandfather seemed to be suspicious about my meeting with Mr. Alan.'
The last time he met with Alan was because of a huge problem. So Quinn didn't blame George for going in that direction. 'Luckily, I can use my magic and walk around without forcing myself to keep a straight face.'
While in his time in America, Alan had stressed the point of getting help — he had sneaked in the topic so many times, and Quinn knew Alan was 'telling' him to share his condition with his family.
'If I tell them now, grandfather will definitely try to pull me out,' he thought. And right now wasn't the time he could risk that. 'I'll tell them after Graduation.'
"Why's everyone at Hogwarts," sighed Quinn as he entered his room after wandering around the manor, not knowing what to do. It seems he was the only one in his friend circle who had come home during Easter.
He waved his hand, and after a few seconds, a book came zooming out, landing in Quinn's hand with a smack. He folded his legs while standing in the middle of the room and sat in the air while reading a newly acquired book on spatial magic.
After reading a while, he spread his palm open and focused his magic. The space above his hand flickered, and faint static sounds sounded as distortions became prominent. Quinn furrowed his brows, and his magic reacted to his commands, and after a long while, the space became stable with a slight coloration— as if the light was being refracted.
Quinn raised his other hand, and a small marble conjured between his fingers. He dropped the deep red marble on his palm, and his twinkled when it didn't hit his palm and seemed to just float above it— on the discolored solidified spatial plane that he had built.
But then the plane vanished like it was never there, and the marble fell into the palm.
Quinn sighed, "This is nowhere the level of the Lado . . . yet."
Having a look inside Lado's workshop had opened his mind to spatial magic. Before, he had only thought of it in travel applications— Apparition, Portkeys, and Doorways, and storage in terms of expanding rooms and other storage options.
But after the warehouse, his horizon had been broadened.
Spatial magic was much more than transportation and storage.
'If I put in some time, I can create and elevate wards and spells,' his mind started going through as he started tapping his fingers on his thigh.
'Speaking of spatial magic . . . I wonder how Malfoy's doing?' Quinn looked at the sky through the window and muttered to himself, "I hope he's doing his job properly."
After all, without Draco Malfoy, an important opportunity would not be possible.
"I wonder how they would feel when they come into Hogwarts . . . ."
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Alan D. Baddeley - Master - Little ones, I shall see you later. Until then, keep your minds safe.
Quinn West - MC - ". . . Just bear it once more; things would return to the norm from now on."
FictionOnlyReader - Author - NOW, the next mini-arc, is going to be the MAIN HIGHLIGHT of this year— it's going to start on 305 after a transition. So stay tuned because it is not part of canon, and it's my original creation (though it is inspired, or should I say, my take on it.) It got positive(I think) response from the first readers.
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Chapter 303: The Weight Of Feelings
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
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"Hey, you're back!"
Quinn dapped Eddie's raised hand as he sat on the place between Eddie and Luna that was obviously saved for him on the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall.
Just like the opening day feast, there was a feast after the Christmas and Easter break, sans the sorting ceremony. The students that had gone home would join their schoolmates at the time of the dinner feast.
"So, how was your time at home?" asked Marcus, who sat in front of them.
"It was interesting, to say the least," said Quinn, casting a spell on his golden cutlery. "So, anything special happened while I was out?"
"Special, let's see . . . Malfoy and Potter got into a serious duel— both did enough damage to each other to spend a couple of nights in the hospital wing and more to the place around them to get a long-long detention," said Marcus.
"Serves them right!" Eddie laughed.
"Oh?" said Quinn, glancing ahead at the Slytherin table to see Draco, who was picking at his food, when he looked back at the Gryffindor table where Harry was talking among his group.
"Any idea why they fought?"
"Why they fought? Why do those two usually fight? Probably for some stupid-ass shit," said Eddie.
'Did Harry catch a whiff of what Malfoy's doing?' Quinn wondered.
The circumstances had been different, making the series of events different from the canon. From what Quinn was able to piece together, Harry hadn't run into Draco on his "trip" to Diagon Alley, thus had no idea what he was planning, making it so that Harry never spied on Draco during the train ride, who unlike the last time was invited to Slug club as Malfoy Sr. was never sent to Azkaban. As the first tile never fell, the domino was never triggered, making the two antitheses never cross each other this year.
But both of them were truly each other's opposite, so Quinn didn't put past them to eventually come crashing into each other, back to biting each other's necks.
'I hope Harry doesn't mess this up; there's a lot of riding on it,' thought Quinn. If someone else heard his thoughts, most would probably argue his line of reasoning. Quinn threw the thought behind his head— the big end was near, and the chances of Harry stopping Dracon were low . . . and if he did get a bit too close, he would do something about it.
"Other than that, there was a Slug club meeting," said Eddie.
"Oh? How did it go?" asked Quinn.
"It was troublesome. It seems Slughorn had invited a bunch of executives from professional clubs to the party, and they made my life miserable," sighed Eddie. "All of them were up to sucking up to me, and while usually, I am not averse to that, it got annoying when I couldn't spend with Tracey . . .
Eddie glanced at Quin.
. . . Speaking of, you have got to meet Daphne— Tracey told me that she has been cranky ever since you left."
"Really?" Quinn glanced at the Slytherin table, and unexpectedly, his eyes met with Daphne, who it seems was staring at him.
Both of them blinked in surprise. Daphne half-raised her hand and gave Quinn a wave, which Quinn returned with a wave of his own. While in America, Quinn had exchanged letters with Daphne, but they hadn't been as frequent as he and presumably as Daphne would've liked.
Quinn built-up magic in his vocal box and spoke, and with sound magic, the words traveled across the hall, reaching only the intended ears. Daphne's eyes widened from across the hall, and Quinn saw her nod.
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The dinner feast soon ended, and students returned to their dorms to prepare for the third term starting tomorrow with the curfew and quite descending upon the Hogwarts castle. And after curfew, only a few roamed out in the ghostly halls of Hogwarts, and of them, no one was as consistent as Quinn.
He stepped onto the Astronomy Tower and looked up at the full moon, shining brightly in the sky, outshining the stars around it. He closed his eyes at the cool breeze touching his skin. Quinn walked to the edge of the tower roof and looked down to the ground. He recalled the first night of his third year, just after getting rid of the sin curse. He had come to meet Friar, to intimate him that the Sin Vault was behind him (if only he knew that wouldn't be the truth).
'I had gotten rid of it, but it had left residual trauma,' he smiled bitterly, recalling his "leap of faith" off the roof to regain the trust in the thing that was the closest to him— his most precious gift, his magic. At that time, he didn't know how to fly and only worked with Arresto Momentum— and to overcome his trauma, he had jumped off from a height that would have him dead if not for magic.
'That day was a wild one.'
Quinn chuckled at the memory of Friar's fear-stricken face.
"Now, here I'm again with the curse inside my again," sighed Quinn. "I wonder if it would leave something behind this time as well— I for sure hope not."
As he was pondering his thoughts, Quinn heard a voice that he was expecting.
"Quinn?"
He turned back and saw Daphne with a wand in her hand as she gradually became visible from what seemed like an invisibility spell. Daphne's eyes moved from Quinn and the edge of the roof.
"Hey," he said with a smile, stepping away from the edge. "How have you been."
"I have been fine, thank you. What about you? How was your trip?" said Daphne, simply.
Quinn walked towards her, and before saying a word, he slipped his arms around her waist and brought her close.
"For one, I missed you a lot," he said.
Daphne didn't look up at him, her palms on his chest, "It didn't seem so. You barely wrote to me."
Quinn could only awkwardly chuckle. Alan had been a slavedriver with the exercise session, and it seemed he had liked Quinn's version of sightseeing as he would drag him out daily to be shown something new. Between both of those, he would grow tired.
"I'm sorry," said Quinn. "While I wish to push all the blame to my master, but it was indeed my fault to not write more. I apologize for not writing more."
Daphne finally looked up and stared at him with her blue eyes. She sighed, "I, too, am at fault for not being active on my part. I should have written more without waiting for you to reply."
Quinn grinned and dipped his head to Daphne and smiled into the kiss as he watched her eyes widen before she participated in the kiss.
"Well, was that enough to be forgiven," asked Quinn.
He felt her nod into his chest shyly.
"So, how have things been for you?" asked Quinn. "Have the Potion classes been fun for you? I hope that my compendium has been of some help."
Daphne's brows furrowed as she narrowed her eyes.
"From the looks of it, they have not been going as smoothly?" asked Quinn.
"No," Daphne said with an edge to her words. "Your gift has been of tremendous help to me— my potions knowledge and brewing skills have improved so much that I still doubt that they were brewed by my hand.
But the potions classes, on the other hand, they haven't been going so well . . ."
"And why's that?" he asked, knowing the answer.
"I thought, with your book, I would be able to pull away from the rest of the class; however, that doesn't seem to be true," said Daphne. "Somehow, Potter has become equally good— no, I'm still better— but in the eyes of Professor Slughorn, we both seem to be on the same level.
I happened to take a peek at her workstation, and there I noticed that she had an old Potions volume that had been assigned to use. I suspect that that book is the reason behind her sudden increase in brewing skill and knowledge."
"Ah, yes," said Quinn, "I know of that particular book."
"You do?" asked Daphne, surprised.
"Yes, I am well aware of that old book in Ivy's possession," after all, he had been the one to point it out to her. "That book was previously owned by what seems like a student with exceptional talent in potions— he goes by the moniker of Half-Blood Prince. He has written, in the margins, modifications of potion recipes. That book has been in the cupboards of the potions classroom for ages."
"Just like yours?"
"Well, I won't say that," said Quinn. "While both of us have improved upon the potion recipes— the Half-Blood Prince has chosen to make improvements to the already present framework provided by the existing recipes in the books— whereas I have taken much more of an involved route of not getting restricted by the existing prevalent framework by diving further into the potions recipes and more importantly, ingredients and preparations.
I'm sure you have noticed that my recipes can be wildly different from the ones in the coursebook."
"Then . . . Ivy's sudden progress has been because of this Half-Blood Prince's book?"
"It'd be safe to say that."
Daphne breathed a sigh of great relief. "At first, I thought that Ivy had become without any external help and that I was able only able to keep up because of your help . . . but I'm glad that's not the case."
A soft smile bloomed on his face. The Daphne he knew wasn't one to share her vulnerable side much on her own until prompted to do so, and usually, he would have to observe her and prod her with questions to know what she was thinking. But, seeing her own share on her own was heart-warming to him, and the trust she had in him was touching.
«On the other hand, you— . . . . . .»
"Hey, Daphne," said Quinn.
"Yes," asked Daphne. She had her eyes closed and was leaning into Quinn.
"There's something I want to talk to you about."
Maybe it was something in Quinn's voice that Daphne looked up, "Is everything alright?"
"Ah, yes, but there's something I would like to tell you."
"Yes?"
"It's something I would like you to know. It's of importance. But I would ask you to wait till July."
Daphne stayed silent for a moment, gazing up at him, and Quinn could tell that she was, as usual, searching for the answer.
". . . I am willing to wait," Daphne said. "You said it is of importance, correct?"
Quinn nodded.
"Then I will wait," she said. But then Daphne's hands clenched the front of his clothes. "I-I . . . You're not going to break up with me after you graduate, are you?"
Quinn's eyes widened, and more so when he felt shaking slightly within his arms.
"No!" he said, quickly, "what would prompt that—"
But then Quinn realized why Daphne had arrived at the line of thinking. The coming of July would see him graduate from Hogwarts, while Daphne would still have a year left to study, and in that time, their relationship would turn into a long-distance one.
". . . Daphne, I'm not thinking of breaking up with you. I would be with you as long as you have me," said Quinn.
But at the same time, he thought, 'Yes, as long as you would have me . . .'
And he wasn't sure if Daphne would want to be with him after he was done revealing what he had done.
"That is a relief," smiled Daphne and tip-toed to kiss Quinn softly.
While all Quinn could think was how selfish he was. For a year, he had decided to hide it and take it to the grave. But, the weight of her feelings demanded him to reciprocate. He could tell her right here and right now, but he wasn't sure what would happen to him with the curse inside if she left him.
Magic, after all, was tied deeply to emotion. . . .
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Quinn West - MC - Sometimes, I don't like myself.
Daphne Greengrass - Loving Girlfriend - Willing to wait.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Well, [some of]you asked for it. I wonder how she would react.
Also, BRANDON SANDERSON. . . , Hot damn, Five!(four) secret books, and the Kickstarter for the project has blown up to the second most successful in the sites' history in just ONE DAY. As the time of writing this, the pledge of $1M has been met and has reached $16M!!! with 29 more days to go. It would indeed be An Year of Sanderson.
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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
CREATORS' THOUGHTS
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Just like always,
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