[August 30th, 1988 A.D. 1 Joseph Streat]
With a groan I regained consciousness.
"*Argh!*"
A loud, painful moan spread through the dusty room.
Indescribable headaches made my skull throb.
Like a thousand tiny needles the pain bored into my head.
In agony I rolled off my bed and landed with a bang on the decayed wood of my small room.
Through the dirty window the early morning sun lit up the attic room. Right next to the spiderwebbed window stood a small bed, made up with bedding in a dark blue pattern.
Opposite the bed lay a wooden desk where a closed notebook rested.
Out of the corner of my unfocused gaze I took in my room, which for some reason seemed familiar and at the same time strange.
Suddenly the pain at my temple tripled, causing the outer edges of my field of vision to blacken.
Intense and faint scenes appeared in my head.
The memories of a fourteen-year-old boy named François Beaumont, who came from France.
François Beaumont lived a relatively normal life in Paris. Ironically, like me — Kiran Noir — he was an orphan who lived in an orphanage.
He was a relatively withdrawn boy, rather shy; with an average appearance, one could, at a glance, judge him as insignificant.
This boy was inwardly — more precisely, his mind — much… more interesting.
At five he had taught himself to read from magazines thrown into the trash.
It also seems that he was a… literal chess genius.
At six and a half he played against himself in his head to pass the time.
In summary, François Beaumont surpassed most children in terms of intelligence.
Except me, of course…
But what was much, much more interesting was a particular book series:
"Harry Potter"
A fantasy book series — if not the most popular fantasy series — for adolescents and adults.
It follows a young orphan named Harry Potter who, on his eleventh birthday, receives a letter from a school of witchcraft and wizardry. It invites him to attend their school, which is intended only for young wizards.
With a slight grunt I pushed myself up from the floor to return to my feet.
With the snap of my fingers a blurred scrap of parchment shot toward me.
Mr. Kiran Noir
Fourth Floor, Attic Room
1 Joseph Streat
Cambridge, Chesterton
Dear Mr. Noir,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
You will find the required materials in the enclosed envelope.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Well, that explains a lot…
Like my telekinesis, or my telepathic abilities.
Although I should call it Legilimency now.
I absentmindedly lifted the piece of parchment telekinetically, causing it to hover about twenty centimeters above my palm.
And shape-shifting…
If François's memories are accurate, this gift should only appear in the pure-blood family: Black. Coupled with my surname — Noir, which means black in French — I am very likely a descendant of that family.
There should, however, still be one member of the Black family alive:
Sirius Black.
He was wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban, escaped in Harry Potter's third year, and later in the series became a kind of father figure to Harry Potter.
He might possibly be my biological father.
Or I could also be a descendant of so-called Squibs.
Descendants of wizards who are not born with the ability to perform magic… in short, Muggles.
Although Squibs, in François's memories, differ slightly from Muggles, the difference shouldn't be great.
Absentmindedly I ran my hand through my black, tousled hair.
From the corner of my eye I noticed them turn red without my control.
Quickly I redirected the flow of energy from my hair back into my body and let it rest in my chest, where the energy gathered like a ball.
As I withdrew the energy, the red color in my hair faded and returned to its usual jet black.
Well, after this discovery it is not surprising that I lost control.
My shape-shifting powers… or rather my Metamorphmagus abilities, have always been both a curse and a blessing.
In my early childhood I lacked the awareness or the necessary control to keep my shape-shifting powers in check.
When Sister Maria Magdalena, the nun who was then in charge of the orphanage, saw my "strange" appearance that kept changing, she became afraid of me and ostracized me from the other children.
She probably saw me as the devil's spawn or as cursed.
In any case, one day she came into my room and tried to murder me.
Which is a bit drastic, isn't it?
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[January 4th, 1982 A.D.; 2:00 a.m.; 1 Joseph Streat]
I was awakened by creaking footsteps coming from the stairs.
Moonlight shone through the dirty windows of my single room. It lit the worn walls and the wooden door built into the room about three meters from my bed.
Slowly I opened my sleepy eyes and pushed myself up from the bed to find the source of the unusual noises.
Soft footsteps approached my door and stopped for a brief moment.
Strange — it's far too early for morning prayer, isn't it?
Why would anyone come up to the attic at such a late hour?
Judging by the heavy steps it seems to be an adult…
Maybe Sister Elizabeth?
From the corner of my eye I noticed my hair color turn blue.
In a panic I tried to get my chameleon powers — as I called them — back under control.
After all, only one person knew about my cool ability: Sister Maria-Magdalena.
Though she didn't seem particularly pleased by it…
With a faint squeak the doorknob turned and the door was, surprisingly, quickly opened and closed.
In the meantime the person had slipped in with a grace that did not match her age.
She wore a black robe and a white headscarf that covered her hair. A simple wooden cross hung around her neck. Small wrinkles circled the corners of her eyes, which suggested she smiled a lot.
However her lips were pressed firmly together and her dark brows were knit, creating two furrows between her eyebrows.
The silver moonlight wrapped around her figure.
"Sister Maria? Sister Maria-Magdalena! Eehh, what are you doing at this hour… so late here?" I asked, surprised.
Wordlessly she put her index finger to her pale lips and moved toward me with silent steps.
In a whisper I asked again, "Sister Maria, what are you doing in my room?"
Again she did not answer and moved, step by step, in my direction.
An uncomfortable feeling spread through my chest.
By now we were less than half a meter apart.
Sister Maria's voice broke the oppressive silence.
"I have been shown a message. A message from the Lord."
A message from the Lord?
What is she babbling?
"Tonight, he came to me in my dreams, Jesus Christ himself!"
Jesus Christ?
Her voice took on a hysterical tone.
"The all-loving ruler, who was crucified on the cross for our sins, was so kind as to honor me with his presence! He opened my eyes and showed me where Satan rules in this house!"
Her right hand clutched the cross at her neck.
"Oh, Almighty Father, give me your strength."
Satan?
What does she mean?
My chest tightened further.
Sister Maria-Magdalena stepped even closer to my bed and knelt down on the floor before me.
I could feel her damp breath on my lips. Her dark eyes drilled into me.
Slowly she opened her pale lips and whispered:
"Forgive me, Kiran, it's for the best…"
"What the— what are you talking about, Sister Maria-Magd—"
Suddenly I noticed something metallic flash in the corner of my eye.
In slow motion I saw a knife fly toward me.
With wide eyes I stood stock-still.
Frozen, I watched the scene unfold before my eyes:
Sister Maria-Magdalena — my mother figure, the one I had trusted with all my secrets, my friend, — attacked me in the middle of the night with a knife, attempting to kill me.
Why?
Why?!
A feeling of incredible betrayal and rage overwhelmed me.
Suddenly a gold-silver wave radiated from my body that was visible only to me.
A telekinetic wave exploded from me.
Instantly everything within reach was thrown back.
Sister Maria-Magdalena, who was only a few centimeters away from cutting my throat, was flung backward from me.
"*Baam!*"
With a loud bang she slammed into my bedroom door.
For a brief moment I simply lay frozen on my bed.
Then I quickly scrambled up from my bed. In the corner of my room I spotted the kitchen knife Sister Maria-Magdalena had tried to use to kill me.
I went to it quickly, gripped the cold handle, and turned my gaze on Sister Maria-Magdalena, who lay motionless on the floor. Her headscarf had come loose from her head, revealing her brown hair streaked with silver.
Holding my breath I stood a few meters from her for ten seconds, waiting for her to lunge at me.
When she still did not move after twenty seconds, I cautiously moved toward her with the knife outstretched.
With my bare foot I turned her head toward me.
Staring back at me were lifeless dark brown eyes, widened in shock.
At the back of her head a purplish-red pool of blood had formed and was dripping onto the floor.
"*Phew*"
I let out a trembling breath.
The knife fell from my hand and clattered loudly to the floor.
The loud noise snapped me out of my trance.
How am I supposed to explain this to the others?
The loud noise might have disturbed some people's sleep. But only a few, since my room was in the attic.
And what about the body?
If I hid her, her absence would be noticed. Besides, I didn't know if anyone had seen her coming upstairs.
"*Sigh*"
Frustrated, I ran my hand through my hair.
Maybe… suicide?
Sister Maria-Magdalena could have fallen from the highest floor through the window in front of my door.
The impact would also explain the wound on the back of her head.
Besides, how could a five-year-old boy have murdered her?
I quickly got to work.
But first Sister Maria-Magdalena had to commit her suicide.
With a soft squeak I opened the door.
With my heart pounding I looked around and made sure no one was there. Then I went to the window door and opened it.
The cold night air made my cheeks flush.
Only the moon shone back at me; otherwise everything was dead quiet.
I looked down. It was steep — five meters to the courtyard below.
Hopefully that's enough for a "suicide."
Back in my room I dragged Sister Maria-Magdalena's body across the floor.
At the window I tried to pull her up. Given my lack of strength, it was difficult...
I climbed onto the windowsill and looked down at her from above.
Without hesitation I grabbed most of her hair in my hands and pulled with all my strength.
Her upper body moved a little. Piece by piece the corpse neared the window's edge.
To get the lower part of her body over the window, I climbed back from the windowsill onto the floor. I grabbed her by the thighs and heaved with all my might.
Bit by bit I pulled her higher until gravity could do the rest.
With one last shove, Sister Maria-Magdalena flew downward.
"Thud!"
I leaned out of the window to inspect the shattered sight of the corpse.
A motionless body lay with arms and legs splayed on the cold concrete of the courtyard. A pool of glistening red blood slowly spread around the corpse's head. Around it were blood splatters and brain matter.
Without hesitation I tore my gaze away from the corpse and swallowed the rising bile that wanted to come up.
Once the body had reached the ground, I reflexively closed the window and hurried back into my room to clean the blood that had gotten onto the hallway floor.
I smacked my temple — a habit I had picked up from Sister Maria-Magdalena.
The window!
How could Sister Maria-Magdalena have closed the window?
I idiot!
With careful movements I unbolted the window and opened it wide.
In my room I cleaned the red stains on the floor, which had already started to dry, with a damp cloth.
Twenty minutes later I lay uneasily in bed.
Hopefully I didn't miss anything..., I thought before darkness swallowed me.
The next morning a loud, shrill scream woke everyone in the area.
***
[A/N:
Hello everyone!
It's nice to be back. Even though it's been months since the last chapter, the break was necessary to rethink the fan fiction. As you've already seen, I've changed a lot of things. The main character, now named Kiran, is an orphan, which means he's more on his own. I'm most excited to write about the magic system, which will be very different from the original book (Harry Potter), and the world-building.
At your request, the MC will no longer be bound by a 'pact'.
Feel free to let me know what you think of the book as you read it.
Byee
]
***