In the days after the ball, Noah faced a rather amusing dilemma. Before heading to Hogwarts, he wanted to study the political landscape. Now that his Occlumency was complete and he could neatly categorize his memories, he thought it would be interesting to create a "file" of important details about politics.
Since he was going to stay in the United Kingdom, he wanted to make his own plans and learn which powers deserved attention. But in the end, he chose not to—and for a reason far sillier than it might seem.
He didn't want to know the identity of the girl from the ball—Violet.
He wanted to discover it naturally when they met again. That surprised him. It was the first time he acted in such a completely childish way.
But truth be told, he enjoyed it.
Perhaps this was what his grandfather and Nick meant when they spoke about living happily—finding meaning in simple things, or that inspiration could be born from them.
In the following weeks, he kept creating that little fire butterfly and letting it fly through the house, a playful smile on his face every time it fluttered its wings.
It gave him greater control over fire—and filled him with inspiration. While the Gray family quietly rebuilt their roots in the shadows of British politics, Noah, the young heir, was busy conjuring fire shapes and studying Legilimency.
From one butterfly he moved to two, then three, then four…
Then to larger animals, bigger and bigger.
And he tried giving them "intelligence," commands, a sort of programming.
Because of that silly, childish encounter, Noah had an inexplicable surge of inspiration.
His fire creations became more vivid. At first, he didn't notice, but when he managed to create a cat that spun in circles and chased its tail without him intending it during creation, there was no way not to.
"I poured feelings into them…" he murmured, filing that observation deep in his mind. "So besides strengthening spells and serving as a magical catalyst, emotions can directly affect magic—even without conscious intent…"
"Maybe I've underestimated emotions…" His eyes sparkled, new waves of inspiration forming.
Perhaps emotions were even more important in magic—especially his kind of magic, which already used feelings as a foundation.
Using his right eye, he spent two weeks testing every spell he knew—common ones like Expelliarmus, as well as his own creations of fire and levitation.
At the end of that time, a detailed list of analysis bloomed in his mind.
Lying under a tree in the garden with his eyes closed, an imagined version of himself walked through his mental fortress. In his mind, he could perfectly recreate everything he had seen and done. It was the perfect way to analyze.
"The standard spells are lifeless—a fleeting manifestation of magic. They carry a predefined purpose and cannot be altered before, during, or after casting. The wizard's feelings during these spells can change their strength slightly, but not their purpose.
A Wingardium Leviosa cast in anger or calm still just lifts an object—the only difference might be the speed. But even that can be achieved simply by mastering focus and control."
That was his conclusion about ordinary magic. He knew he could still learn more, but for now, it felt unnecessary.
"Once my right eye evolves further, I believe I can make deeper analyses of spells… maybe even create improved versions."
From recent events, he realized he might have underestimated the role of feelings in magic—particularly in his magic.
It seemed he was more deeply affected by emotions than most people. Not just mentally, but magically. He could tell that even if he taught his spells to another wizard, they wouldn't be able to replicate them with the same emotional intensity.
That raised a dangerous idea in his mind.
"How can I increase my emotions?"
Now that his mental defenses were perfected, he could suppress his feelings with ease if he wanted. It was difficult for anything to affect him. But on the other hand, that also made it hard to amplify emotions naturally.
"Maybe if I take a pair of blonde twins to bed, I can boost my ego," he chuckled to himself.
Then he froze.
That thought was… out of character.
"Has my personality changed?" The question arose, doubtful but persistent.
Somehow, he could feel certain thoughts and actions lately diverged from his usual self… but he couldn't clearly tell whether it was real or what had caused it.
There were few natural ways to amplify emotions. Achieving great feats might increase pride. Losing a loved one might kindle rage, hatred, perhaps vengeance.
But those were paths he didn't want—and didn't expect anytime soon. Love, of course, was another powerful feeling. But that too, he wasn't expecting to find anytime soon.
So the idea came: increase emotions artificially.
His first thought was to use his mental control to create illusions. Scenarios that could feed and expand his emotions. It sounded plausible, worth testing. But he didn't pursue it—not because it wouldn't work, but because he found a better alternative.
While reading about Legilimency in Queen West's studies, one passage caught his attention:
"Reading memories is like reading a book—you 'see' what the characters experience, but the feelings come from you."
For example, the death of an important character in a fantasy novel. Two readers might react completely differently—depending on their bond with the character or their own emotional state.
One might cry in anguish: AUTHOR I HATE YOU, HOW COULD YOU KILL MY FAVORITE CHARACTER?!
While another might just shrug: LOL, can't believe they had the guts. Shame though, he was a great character.
Two very different reactions to the same event.
According to the book, reading memories was the same.
A Legilimens might read the mind of a person being bullied for being overweight and feel pity, even sympathy.
Another might laugh at it—and even think about bullying them too.
So, Queen West suggested a second approach to Legilimency:
"Don't just read memories—live them. Absorb them. Devour them. Make them yours. Feel the emotions. Turn the experiences into your own."
It was controversial, of course. The ethics council had banned the first edition of the book soon after release. Later editions had toned it down.
Naturally, Noah had the first edition. And that gave him a clear path forward.
"This Queen West is an interesting fellow," Noah chuckled as he stood.
In the days that followed, Noah went to London. He needed test subjects.
The streets bustled with the rush of daily life. Among the crowd, a ten-year-old boy strolled calmly, hands in his pockets, face serene—but his eyes sharp, scanning every passerby. Inside, his mind was a storm of focus.
He was trying.
Trying to break in.
Legilimency was difficult by nature. And Noah, being the stubborn idiot he was, made it harder.
He was attempting it without eye contact.
Yes—no windows through the eyes. He wanted to truly invade minds, not rely on the obvious.
Natural Legilimens could do it without practice. So he knew it was possible. And that was enough for him.
Many words could describe Noah. Some flattering, some less so. But one always resurfaced with his deeds:
Talented.
Hours. That's all it took for his first success.
A middle-aged woman rushed past him. Noah focused, sought a breach—and for one fleeting instant, he broke through.
A thought bloomed in his head, one that wasn't his: Did I leave the oven on?
"I did it!" he whispered, unable to hide his excitement.
The woman stumbled and collapsed, unconscious.
Noah's eyes widened. He glanced around—then bolted.
Classic: Nothing to do with me.
Though he'd knocked a woman out cold, it was a start. Once he managed to crack open the prison called a mind, he could follow the light seeping through.
In other words, now that he'd done it once, he had the feel for it. He knew the sensation.
And that made everything easier.
His next attempt failed. But the one after that? A success.
Man, I really need to poop, thought a chubby boy waddling past him.
Noah snorted, then moved on. Another try—another success.
Did I lock the door this morning? fretted a worried woman.
He was getting better, and he was enjoying it.
Hours passed. He wandered the streets like a curious ghost, skimming thoughts here and there. Nothing deep—just surface streams of consciousness. A man stressing over a meeting. A teen nervous for a date. An old woman daydreaming about lunch.
The Muggles felt nothing. None suspected the light touch on their minds.
Eventually, Noah stopped at a café, ordered something simple, and watched the news on TV. A human trafficking ring had been busted, though part of the network remained at large. He rolled his eyes.
"The world's a sewer," he muttered, arms crossed. "Could a world without all this crap even exist?"
He sighed, then smirked.
"What is this—am I starting the classic protagonist speech about changing the world?" His grin widened. "That's not me. I'm selfish… the most selfish."
In the following days, Noah honed his technique. Reading minds became routine. A week later, he felt ready to go deeper—to access the second layer, where memories, emotions, and deeper patterns dwelled.
His target: a woman who jogged through the park every morning.
Sitting on a bench, he waited. When she passed, he focused. Breaking into the surface layer was easy. Then he pushed deeper.
It was a mistake.
A torrent of memories and emotions slammed into him like a storm. He lost balance, the connection collapsed. The woman stumbled, nearly falling.
"Close one," he muttered, steadying himself, head throbbing.
He took a deep breath. Calmed himself. Tried again, carefully this time.
Success.
He accessed the denser layer, seeing her recent memories—chatting with a friend in a parking lot about dramas and gossip. Noah observed like an invisible spectator. Watching from the outside.
The jogger ran off, breaking the link.
He switched targets. A woman lounging on the grass with her boyfriend and their dog. Noah dove in, skimming memories until one more intimate surfaced.
Sex. A night of frustration. Feelings of disappointment, frustration… disgust.
I think I'll break up with him. I can't take it anymore.
Noah smirked, amused. He slipped out of her mind and into the boyfriend's.
The same memory—seen from his side. The contrast was hilarious.
I'm a beast.
She's so hot.
Can't believe I'm nailing this chick.
I'm about to…
Noah snorted, folding his arms. "King of idiots…"
I could do better.
Look at her body beneath me.
I'd devour her.
I'd make her come.
I want her.
I want her now.
Noah froze.
Strange thoughts. Desires. Feelings that weren't his. His face burned. Lust surged unbidden. His little wizard down below screamed with blood, throbbing like it would explode.
"What the…?"
He ripped out of the boy's mind, slamming his mental defenses into place. He breathed deeply, fighting for control. Fighting not to get up and run straight to the woman. He wanted her. He could almost smell her scent, feel her warmth.
It's not real. Control yourself.
Breathe. In, out.
Slowly, his mind returned to normal.
"Damn it… my defenses should've blocked this." His brow furrowed.
He reflected for long minutes, stitching together the events. He reached two conclusions:
First, his defenses worked in the real world—but inside another's mind, he was vulnerable.
Second, he didn't just read feelings—he absorbed them. Naturally. Without following any book's protocol.
Then he realized.
His left eye burned faintly. The same sensation as that night in Paris, during the Bloody Night, when he had devoured the emotions around him.
His expression darkened.
"Not now… I don't want that to awaken again."
He thought of stopping.
But deep down, he knew: running away wasn't the answer. If his left eye was tied to emotions, then mastering Legilimency might be the key to understanding it—and controlling it.
A laugh echoed in his memory.
He chuckled, shaking his head.
Looking at the sky, he stretched out his hand, framing it between his fingers.
"That's it… the deeper I go, the more I'll learn about myself."
And if, in the end, what he found inside was a monster?
Well.
Then the world really would change.