Chapter 2: The Making of a Wizard
Once Bilbo had bustled back into the kitchen, Corwin let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He turned his full attention to the shimmering text.
A Hogwarts Legacy System? he thought, his mind racing. But what does that have to do with Middle-earth? If the system is from Hogwarts, shouldn't I be in the world of Harry Potter? How did I end up here?
Did the system get the address wrong?
He tried to mentally ask the system for more information, to understand its purpose, but there was no response. The glowing prompt simply hovered before him, patiently awaiting his decision.
With no other options, Corwin focused on the prompt and whispered, "Attune."
The words flickered and dissolved, immediately replaced by a new line of text:
[Attunement Successful! Magical Core Unlocked. Welcome, Wizard.]
The moment the words appeared, an incredible sensation flooded Corwin's body. It felt as though a dam had burst deep within him. A torrent of raw, vibrant power surged from his core, rushing through every limb. He heard a faint snap from within, as if some unseen barrier had been shattered.
In the next second, that power erupted from him.
Corwin's body felt impossibly light, and he floated an inch off his chair. But it wasn't just him. The heavy oak table, the worn armchairs, the teapot on the mantelpiece—everything in the room lifted into the air, suspended in a silent, chaotic dance.
"Oh, my heavens!"
A gasp came from the kitchen doorway.
Bilbo Baggins stood there, his eyes wide with utter disbelief, a tray of food slipping from his grasp to clatter loudly on the floor.
The sound seemed to jolt Corwin from his trance. The floating objects wobbled, and then, as if their invisible strings had been cut, they all came crashing down. The cozy room was instantly a scene of chaos.
Corwin, recovering from the blast of magic, looked at the mess he had created with a face full of apology.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Baggins! I didn't mean for this to happen. It's all my fault!"
Bilbo, shaking himself out of his shock, looked at Corwin with an expression that had transformed from fear to pure, unadulterated awe.
"Mr. Corwin," he breathed, "you're a wizard!"
Corwin thought to himself, That makes two of us who are surprised.
The next hour was spent tidying up the wreckage. Corwin dearly wished he could use magic to set everything right, but he quickly realized he was a wizard with the raw power of a thunderstorm and the practical skills of a Muggle. And so, they cleaned up the old-fashioned way.
Once everything was back in its place, Bilbo insisted on preparing another meal.
At the dinner table, the Hobbit seemed a bit shy. "I do apologize, Mr. Corwin. This is all I could manage on such short notice. I'll go to the market first thing in the morning and prepare a proper Hobbit supper for you."
Noticing Bilbo's newfound, deferential attitude, Corwin shook his head with a warm smile.
"Bilbo, may I call you Bilbo? You don't have to be so formal. Please, call me Corwin. Besides, I should be thanking you for taking me in. Why don't we just be friends?"
Sensing the sincerity in Corwin's tone, Bilbo visibly relaxed, a wide smile spreading across his face. The good-hearted Hobbit was not one for complex social games and happily accepted the offer of friendship.
He excitedly extended his hand across the table.
"I'd like that very much, Corwin! My friend!"
Corwin's own smile brightened as he shook the Hobbit's hand.
"I'm glad to know you, Bilbo. My friend."
The atmosphere in Bag End became warm and convivial. Corwin began asking Bilbo about the Shire and the lands beyond. Bilbo, though he had never left the Shire himself, was an avid reader of maps and adventure stories and proved to be a wealth of information.
He told Corwin of the Great East Road, which led past the Brandywine Bridge, through the Old Forest and the Barrow-downs, to the human town of Bree. Farther east lay the endless wilds that stretched all the way to the Misty Mountains. There was also a North-South Road, he'd read, that went from Bree down to the great southern kingdom of Men—Gondor.
Most importantly, Bilbo confirmed the date: it was the year 1340 by Shire Reckoning, or 2940 of the Third Age of Middle-earth.
It was one year before Bilbo Baggins would join the Quest of Erebor.
This meant that the unassuming Hobbit sitting across from him was about to embark on one of the most thrilling adventures the world had ever known.
Before becoming a wizard, Corwin's only plan had been to lie low and survive. But now, with the Legacy System at his command, he began to wonder if he should join that quest. The expedition would travel through countless different regions, even the hidden lands of the Elves. If he wanted to attune his magic to new locations, joining the quest for the Lonely Mountain was the perfect opportunity.
Later that night, after bidding Bilbo goodnight, Corwin lay on the guest bed, which was a bit too small for his frame. The blankets only came up to his waist, but it was a warm summer night, so he didn't mind. Moonlight streamed through the round window, mingling with the soft, yellow glow of a bedside candle. The chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs outside filled the air, and the anxiety in Corwin's heart finally began to settle.
When in the Shire, do as the Hobbits do, he thought. He hadn't chosen to come to this strange, yet familiar, world. His only option was to grow stronger and live the best life he could.
He cleared his mind, letting his consciousness drift until he finally fell asleep.
The next day, Corwin woke early. Hearing the faint sound of snoring from the next room, he tiptoed quietly through the tube-shaped hallway and out the round front door into the garden. He took a deep, refreshing breath of the breezy, flower-scented air. Hobbit-holes were charming, but he was fairly certain that constant stooping would give him a permanent crick in his neck.
Bag End was situated on the Hill in Hobbiton, and from here, he had a perfect view of the entire village. It was an idyllic, storybook landscape of lush green grass, vibrant flowers, and even the trees and shrubs seemed to be a bit shorter, as if to better suit their small masters. Corwin felt a sudden urge to just stay here forever, lost in the peaceful beauty of it all.
After soaking in the view, Corwin began to think about his next steps. He was a wizard now, yes, but he had no wand and knew not a single spell. Compared to a normal person, he wasn't much stronger.
As a lifelong Potter fan, he could rattle off incantations like "Wingardium Leviosa," "Expelliarmus," "Petrificus Totalus," and even "Avada Kedavra." But he knew magic was more than just shouting the right words. It required an understanding of magical theory, precise wand movements, and mastery of the spell itself. And so, despite muttering the incantations until his lips were sore, nothing happened.
But Corwin didn't give up. He was certain that with enough willpower, he could produce magic, even without a wand or formal training. After all, a young Harry Potter had vanished the glass at the zoo, trapping his cousin Dudley inside with the boa constrictor. Even Neville Longbottom, once thought to be a Squib, had bounced like a rubber ball when dropped from a window as a child. While those were accidental acts of magic, Corwin believed that if he tried hard enough, he could do it deliberately.
He focused his gaze on a small stone in the garden, concentrating with all his might, trying to will it to fly. He strained until his face was red, but the stone remained stubbornly still.
Giving up on the heavy object, he decided to try a single leaf instead. At first, nothing happened. But as the seconds ticked by, the leaf, untouched by any breeze, began to tremble. Then, suspended by an invisible force, it wobbled, twitched, and slowly began to rise.