His eyes opened, the same tiled ceiling that he's stared at for uncountable hours for the past few months came into view.
He was tired…so so tired.
He closed his eyes momentarily, attempting to clear the foggy nature of his mind with only a small measure of success before he tilted his head as he opened his eyes, towards the source of light that was shining through the blinds.
Another day, one less day…
He tore off the bed covers and pulled himself up, with some difficulty, until he managed to get upright, the growing headache that hammered him suddenly causing him to clench tightly on the duvet.
He waited until it passed, until it grew dim and he got to his feet, languidly, and walked past his slippers with his bare foot, uncaring and unwilling to bother even that far as he walked towards the bathroom.
He avoided looking at himself in the mirror, an act he did each time, as he brushed his teeth yet each time he failed to keep it up once he'd dried his face after washing it.
And each time, a small piece of him grew darker, broken as the face stared back at him, a face he was ever getting harder and harder reconciling with.
An emaciated face stared back at him, a pallid sheen to a dark skin that could not hide how ill he looked, sunken in cheeks with tight skin rubbed over his skull highlighted how starved he was with how gaunt he looked.
He was little better than a walking skeleton and the lack of hair only added to that visage, something he lost months ago.
It's been two years since he was diagnosed with Glioblastoma at sixteen. Two years since he found out that he had an expiry date of at most two and a half years.
Six months since he became a permanent resident in this hospital, where he was made comfortable, waiting to die, waiting to hit his expiry date.
He'd laughed when he sat in that comfortable office chair after he'd been given his prognosis, bowled over with hysterical laughter, the very visage of the Comedian at that moment.
It had been all a joke then.
It still was a joke now though he wasn't laughing now.
He hadn't the energy.
It had been par for the course he had thought then.
His life had never been easy, his early years had prepared him well for it.
He sighed, closed his eyes briefly before he toddled out of the bathroom, his bony heels distinctly clanking on the hard floor.
He'd been born to a poor working class family to two people who should never have been parents. His father a violent bitter man, his mother neglectful and meek, unwilling to stand up for any of the abuse that had been heaped on them, on him.
He walked towards the window and with some effort opened it up.
His room overlooked a small park that was at the centre of the hospital. It was tasteful, a small bit of nature amidst buildings where most things were sterile and severe.
He sat on the edge of the windows and watched as he saw an old woman shuffling, slowly, along the path of the small park towards one of the benches in front of a small pond where birds tended to be at this early hour.
There was peace in watching animals in nature, however manufactured it may be.
Peace he ironically began to feel at the end of his short life rather than at any during his life before his body's betrayal.
His early childhood lacked such peace to say the least. It had been horrid, filled with bitter pain and harsh understandings of his lot in life.
Only his books had been able to provide a measure of peace, a measure of joy that came into existence after being taught by an old woman who took pity on him taught him how to read before he was old enough for Primary school.
He'd found what he'd looked for in his books that life at that time did not give, an escape that had him become enamoured and lost in the stories and the pictures in the stories.
Though those were not the memories he clung onto. The children's books that were happy and showed wondrous things, no…
What he had clung onto was the book she'd given him by mistake, a book for adults but one that changed his life. A book he'd read every year since.
It was nothing special, a book written by an author none remembered, a book that sold less than a couple of thousand copies in the thirty years it had been published yet it was his most treasured book.
A grim tale of rags to riches, one without a happy ending but one that captivated him nonetheless.
He did not understand it at first, he spent more time learning the words in the book than he did reading it but as he aged, but he understood enough that the man in the book was like him and that single book sparked a fire within him that raged for the rest of his life, until now, until that fire was doused by the freezing winds of death and weakness.
It was at that age, tender age of five, that he knew that he would do everything he could to be like that man, to escape the misery he'd been born into like that man.
Only later when he left Primary school did he understand the true message of the book.
Power was necessary to have the reigns of your own future, to shape your destiny through your own hands, to break free from the constraints that held you.
His parents taught him many things, not on purpose of course.
His father taught many things about human nature...the ugliness that could be hidden beneath a mask of civility and falsehood.
His father was a man of community, well liked and respected. A man who abused his son and wife behind closed doors and none were the wiser. That had been his first lesson of many.
His mother taught him that reliance on others was something that only the weak did.
Her meekness and lack of care for his wellbeing when he'd be disciplined, turning away from him when he'd begged for her, confirmed that there was none but yourself that you could rely on.
He started primary school, cynical and driven as he set himself on his path to do well at school.
Early on, it became clear to all that he was intelligent and in the end, he skipped years and finished primary at age nine.
His years under the careful care of his father helped him immensely when it came to perception and how to make one appear as something else. Perception mattered and he took that lesson to heart.
In the end, he succeeded and managed to obtain a scholarship at an elite boarding school once he aced the entry examination.
His time at the boarding hadn't been easy, not at first. He'd been from a poor ethnic background, riding on a scholarship years younger than his classmates.
A Perfect victim. Or so they thought.
It hadn't taken long...only a term and a half until they understood that he wasn't one to aggravate and by the end of his time at the boarding school, he managed to charm them all and obtained links with wealthy families that would have proven useful, had he not a terminal condition.
He sighed and got off the edge and made his way towards his bed. He opened the drawer by his bed and grabbed his degree certificate.
He went to Cambridge at age fourteen to study Mechanical Engineering finishing with a Masters in Computer Programming.
He succeeded, in the end, only with his engineering degree, graduating with a 94% grade.
It didn't fill him with satisfaction, only bitterness that he was going to be dead before he achieved any of his goals, despite how hard he worked to get there as fast as he could.
Everything he's done...the subtle manipulations of his peers in school to cheat them of their money to fuel his efforts to become independent from his parents, the blackmailing he'd done to one of his classmates parents so he'd get accepted to Cambridge with a scholarship.
All of it was for nothing.
His hands trembled he gripped the certificate before he took a deep breath and set it aside before he returned to lie down on his bed, forcing down the resentment he felt.
The next few months were terrible as he felt himself slipping until, the day came that he knew that his death was approaching. In his few moments of coherence, he could only think of the unfairness of his life before he closed his wet eyes and accepted that he was going to die today.
He let himself go, slipping into unconsciousness, knowing that he'd never wake up again.
-Break-
23rd of September 1924
He came aware with a jolt; he gasped desperately sucking in as much air as he could. He felt strange; he had never felt anything like what he was now. He was bombarded by illegible noises and smells, and he involuntarily cried out in pain with the sensory overload. But the sound that had come out from his mouth was neither his voice nor was it an adults'.
He opened his eyes to find out what was going on but quickly shut them as the brightness of the room near blinded me. He focused on what he could feel and he could feel that he was being held aloft by something and that he was covered in some kind of liquid that was quickly becoming cold.
Before he could dwell on it, he felt something wash over him and the sticky substance was gone and now felt the full brunt of the cold. he felt himselfbeing lifted and carried by what seemed like massive hands and had been set on a smooth and soft surface and then he had been wrapped up by what he assumed was a blanket.
He carefully opened his eyes and began to quickly adjust his eyes, blinking away, until his eyes had adjusted to the influx of light that entered his eyes. He began to see silhouettes of figures and began to feel overwhelmed by the disturbing presences. He tried to move his body but it felt unresponsive, the most similar thing he could describe it as was paresthesia.
The one who approached him seemed to be a feminine figure and he focused on her face. She lifted her hand and it had held some kind of thin stick or rod and it glowed in a purplish colour as it was pointed at me. He could feel something wash over him and he felt himself calmed and soothed to the point that he no longer felt agitated or afraid.
He focused all his attention on the woman. Her lips were moving and he focused on what she was saying.
"-e's healthy and he has been calmed. He was in a panicked state until I put him under calming and warming charms" the woman said.
'calming and warming charms?' he thought confusedly.
He was lifted and carried somewhere and he refocused his attention to his current situation. The woman who had done something to him to calm him was carrying him as she walked to somewhere until she stopped and shifted him and bent over and handed him over to another pair of hands that held him delicately.
He was brought closer and he looked up and saw a woman staring down at him with a soft expression on her face and loving expression on her face.
'She's beautiful' he thought to himself as he took in her appearance. She looked tired and haggard but beyond that, he could see that she was a beautiful woman.
Her face was heart shaped that was accentuated with her curly brown hair and the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Her nose was pointed and her cheeks were reddened which he assumed from the exertion that she was under.
Just as he was lost in her face, she too took him in.
Anne POV
"Hello there, my son. I'm happy to finally meet you." She said softly with an accent that he couldn't quite place.
She looked at him with a loving expression with an underlying hint of relief that lay below the surface.
She wasn't completely calm after her nightmare had played out right in front of her.
Her baby boy hadn't been breathing and it had taken what she felt like was hours, though a few minutes in reality, for him to breathe on his own.
This would be her last pregnancy as her body would be unable to carry another child.
This had been her sixth pregnancy and only her second successful one.
Her daughter's birth had wrecked her body and it had taken years for her to successfully heal. Thankfully this pregnancy had been much easier and at the same time more difficult as it truly had been her last chance to give birth a male heir.
She took in his appearance and she could see black tufts of hair on his head. She looked at him and saw that his eyes were firmly on her as her eyes were firmly on him. She dangled her fingers in front of him and he was tracking it. 'A perceptive child aren't you?' she thought to herself amusedly.
*Knock* She looked up and saw the door opening and saw that it had been her husband that was entering. She smiled at him tiredly and he returned it to her. He looked as he had always done; well kept and handsome.
He had handsome aristocratic features, with high cheekbones and an angular shaped face that were accompanied with grey blue eyes and shoulder height midnight black hair.
"Markus" she said softly before returning her attention to the bundle in her arms.
"Anne" he said gently as he saw down in the chair by the bed, his eyes showing concern yet relief.
"How are you and our little boy feeling" he asked quietly. She smiled at him and handed her baby over to him.
"We're both fine. There was a scare when he wasn't breathing but he pulled through." She smiled deeply as she glanced at her miracle though her tone shifted into one of tiredness, one filled with solemnity "I felt so helpless when they took him away but it worked out in the end" she sighed tiredly.
She closed her eyes and leaned back into the bed.
After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at her husband and child.
He was appraising her boy with a gentle look and a small smile that could only be seen if you knew him. Her husband wasn't one that shows much emotion but he was caring man to those close to him and she loved that about him.
"Hello my son. You gave us quite the scare when you didn't breathe when you came into the world. But like anyone of my blood, you were strong and pulled through" he said with a broader smile that she seldom saw.
He looked at her "He has my hair and it looks like he will most likely have my father's eyes when they darken. He'll be a handsome man once he's grown" he stated with a chuckle.
She joined him with a small laugh "Of course, is my son after all" she said as prim as she could manage causing him to chuckle.
"I haven't named him yet. I was waiting for you to come and name him" she stated.
Markus hummed and looked at their baby contemplatively. "I had intended to name him Henry but looking at him now, I think Atticus suits far better. What do you think?" he asked
"Atticus" she tried out, sounding it out and thought that it was a strong name. She looked at him and gave him a small nod "I agree" she said.
Atticus POV
"Hello my son. You shall be named Atticus Markus Sayre." his 'father' stated.
That had been the last straw in what had been an unreal and tiring day that seemed to hit him again and again with revelations that he didn't know could be possible and promptly drifted off to sleep.
For the next few days, he had only intermittently been conscious and mostly during those times, had spent it being fed, changed by some of the staff or being held by his new mother and father.
When he had recovered to remain conscious long enough, he took the opportunity to review what he knew so far. He last remembered falling asleep until he found himself in this situation.
He had been familiar with the concept of reincarnation though he had never truly considered it to be possible never mind the possibility of being reborn in the world he was in and in the manner he had been brought to it.
In the last few days, things became a lot clearer and he had used the time to spend whatever time he was awake grasping as much information as he could and it only solidified what he had at first suspected when the information yielded confirmations.
He had been reincarnated in the wizarding world…yes that wizarding world.
He knew that he wasn't hallucinating because the possibility of such vividness of his surroundings and the manner the people around him acted certainly made it all impossible that it wasn't real. At least that is what he told himself. Perhaps he was insane and didn't know it.
In any case, he came to accept his new circumstances, insanity notwithstanding, and all that came with it.
There were many questions he had and he suspected that there many of those questions would never be answered with finality and surety.
Those questions however would not take precedent as he had far more important things to consider and act upon in his new life.
His new parents were named Markus and Anne Sayre. From what he could understand, he had stopped breathing momentarily when he had been born and needed emergency intervention.
From the timescale, he suspect that was the moment he was awakened when he breathed his first breathe in his new body. he hadn't been able to see much magic performed, other than diagnostic scans being performed on him or warming charms but he could feel more than what he remember being able to feel in his last life.
He felt it when he was being held by his mother or his father. It felt instinctive and both of them felt different from each other but it had the same effect.
They both exuded an air of protectiveness over him which was an alien experience for him. He had been alone all his life and he had to scrape and fight to have what he had and it had left him cold, ruthless and melancholic.
He felt strangely comfortable with the both of them which might well be partly responsible by his infant biology. He certainly had never felt so lethargic in his life.
Rounding away from that train of thought, from his observations from the interactions that his parents had with the staff of St. Mungos, it was obvious that they were nobility and had garnered high levels of respect and deference from the staff.
It boded well for him, in truth, as being born in an influential family would allow him to wield that influence in the way he want though that was only secondary to the most important thing, now, in his life.
Magic.
He was born, at least he hoped so – it would have been truly cruel to being born without magic – with magic and he could only feel a malicious delightful glee at the opportunity that was available to him now.
He'd read the Rowling books when he was a child. It was one of the most accessible series of books in his childhood and he had been gifted it by one of his classmates' parents for his 7th birthday.
He didn't like how much the disdain that the Potter boy received from his relatives resonated with him but he had pushed past that along with the contempt he generally felt for the boy for his naivety and he had wondered at the marvellous world the series were set in.
It was fascinating and it had so much potential, depth and more importantly, for a child such as him at the time – one who had, very little of anything in any capacity in his childhood, there was POWER in the fingertips of people that drew him in.
There were so many paths to power and to grow magically that it sparked his imagination. There were many ways that should lead to immortality or at the very least an exceedingly extended lifespan and it should all be within range for those who knew how to seek it or achieve it.
Being born in 1924 was not a terrible starting point in truth. In fact, it may well be very advantageous as it meant that he was born before Riddle, before the war got bad with Grindelwald, before Dumbledore's rise.
It would give him the space he needed to grow and the paths of power and success were open to him, waiting for him to tread it and…
Where others had faltered, he would not. He grinned wickedly to himself.
-Break-
Life as an infant was an experience that he hoped he'd never have to do again, not that he believed that it was likely.
It was exhausting pretending as much as he did and only the fear of being discovered had him keep it up as much as he could.
He knew he was far from successful.
It wasn't terrible being cared for as much as he was but he loathed losing his independence. Atticus had to get over his feelings of indignity very fast when he was being fed from his mother's body.
His emotions that Atticus had spent years in carefully repressing had been thrown out of balance.
Atticus felt like a child, despite having an adult mind.
Even so, very early on, he gained the reputation of a quiet but obedient child that hardly made a fuss excepting of course whenever he needed something at which point he brought attention to himself by crying out.
He knew that wizarding families were obviously far more used to odd things, things that stood out or did not make sense and so he had endeavoured to ensure that his behaviour did not attract unwanted attention upon himself.
He acted like a child which in truth with the manner his hormones and emotions were was not as difficult as it were.
Physically he was unable to say any coherent words, which likely would not feasible for a year or two and embarrassingly he had little control over his body.
The person who spent most of the time with was his mother. She was his constant companion and seldom let his caring go to the caretaker, a certain Ms Florence.
Ms Florence was a young lady, possibly in her late twenties or thirties and she had a kind disposition. She was not a beauty but she was attractive enough. She had a heart shaped face that had a soft feminine quality.
She had light brown hair and light blue eyes. Her role seemed to be predominantly a governess esque kind of role within the household. The other non family member within the home was Gerold Dayton who seemed to be someone who worked predominantly with the patriarchs of the family.
His mother's affections and gentleness had truly messed with him at the beginning. The intensity of his emotions, the hormonal body, it all contributed to difficulties reconciling in the way he was treated in comparison the way his previous mother had been and it had taken time for him to come to terms with.
She knew and noticed his discomfort and she had been extremely patient and kind in the way she dealt with him. Luckily, the fact that he was a baby masked much of the oddness that he was displaying and had been explained away.
Eventually, his discomfort gradually reduced as he spent time with her and the effort she put in. She oozed protectiveness and warmth in a way that made him think that magic had to be involved, was responsible for setting him so at ease once he allowed himself.
Her presence, being held in her arms, felt like a warm blanket. She would hum to him, often sing melodies in a language he did not quite recognise and it often soothed him to sleep.
Her affections and her care had taken time for him to get used to it but he did not hate it...he had felt a possessiveness over her and he was, for in the first time of his life, feeling warmth for another person.
In his infancy, his mother enjoyed taking him out for a stroll and he was thankful for it and made sure to give indications, expressions that he enjoyed it. From those strolls, he managed to get decent understanding from the home that he could call his now.
The Manor was grand, in every interpretation of the word.
The three story tall manor had a way of belonging to the earth it graced. It was seated upon an elevation that looked over a large mountainous forest to the west and south and a small lake to the east which gave an almost panoramic view of the grounds at the right location.
The Manor was secluded, nestled in between the surrounding nature, no other sign of civilisation for as far as the eye could see.
As his mother took him on theses strolls, Atticus could feel the presence the manor exuded as they walked at the edges of the grounds. Atticus could not truly understand it but it felt as if it embraced him, welcoming him to home.
The pathway from the entrance of the manor to the gate was flanked by a beautiful landscape; a variety of plants and trees that were masterfully arranged, which flanked the steep granite pathway that lead from the gates to the entrance of the manor which created a mirage of controlled wildness of the artificially arranged nature surrounding the manor.
Once inside, the scale and opulence of the manor becomes obvious. Decorated tastefully, the entrance hall was themed in whites, silver and dark green colours with wide curved stairs on the left hand side coming into view. The interior of the manor seemed as it if was carved from marble, for every section had marble stone with deep grey veins running through them.
The right hand side of the entrance hall led to a room through downward leading stairs which lead to the floo. The fireplace itself was located at the lowest point in the room which he believe was the intent as it would give any intruders a disadvantaged position to strike from.
Both this room and the entrance hall had suits of armour adorned on two sides of the room and they numbered by over two dozen. He had no doubts that it was part of the defensive wards of the manor.
The rear of the entrance hall leads to a massive room where the hearth of the home was located and where most of the guests and family would be entertained. In that room, the walls were decorated with portraits of ancestors and paintings of scenes, regions and battles.
Apart from being carried around by his mother, he got to know the rest of his family more. He had a Scottish grandmother, Marie, who was kind and seemed to be have a mischievous streak in her. He had a grandfather and great grandfather who seemed stern but caring in their own ways.
He had an older sister by six years who was an energetic and pleasant girl who enjoyed spending time with him.
She shared their mother's eyes, the same shade of bright emerald green but she had their father's midnight wavy black hair. She tended to always have a book on her when she was with him and after coaxing her in an obvious manner, she began to read out to me.
She had a type of books that she always liked to read that were mostly wizarding stories that seemed to be about notable people in wizarding history. He enjoyed those sessions as it gave much relief of the monotony of his current situation until he was a little older.
Those early months of his second life represented a paradigm shift in his personality. As he continued to grow, he began to notice subtle but certain personality and behavioural shifts within himself.
In his old life, before his diagnosis, he had been cold as a result of his life and had grown calculating and remorseless in his pursuit of his goals and he carried a great deal of anger.
It wasn't an explosive anger; it was a cold anger that was always persistent within me. So far, the cold anger he'd always had was no longer within him.
He thought a great deal about this and he knew that it had begun to manifest within him at an early age when he had understood that there were people who would actively work against you and make your life difficult.
It had begun with his parents, continued by certain neighbours and perpetuated by so called peers during his academic years.
His cold anger had fuelled him, spite had drug him forward and vindictiveness had him enjoying setting people in their places and he had aimed to leave his mark on the world through his intellect and capabilities.
It had been largely left simmering by the time of his death when he knew that he wouldn't achieve any of his long term goals and until now, hadn't gone into remission.
The main reason for the disappearance of his anger because of the sheer amount of opportunities that he now had in his new life and the choices he now faced in this life.
He had a great deal of options available to him than he ever did in his previous life and not only that; he had genuine power in his fingertips once he learned to wield it, to change reality to his whims.
He could feel hints of the power coursing in his veins at times, waiting to be unleashed with eagerness. He was born within a pureblood family that was nobility and this would effectively open any doors for him.
He would, with utter certainty, dedicate himself with the study of magic and become as close as he could to be the quintessence of magic, the greatest of the greatest of magicals in existence, in future or past, there would no denying him.
However he knew that there would be many challenges that he would need to overcome. In those early months where he had been unable to do much of anything, he was thinking on the events to come.
This time period was defined by a war that engulfed much of the civilised world. Europe was set ablaze with war, both in the muggle and the magical world.
He did not know what Grindelwald's ideology and movement was beyond knowing that it was for the dissolution of the Statue of Secrecy and for domination and oppression of the muggle world under the leadership of wizardkind, no longer hiding themselves and magic from the entirety of the world.
He held sympathetic views in some capacity to it. As a magical now himself, he was certain he could not be a squib, the status quo was not sustainable.
But from what he knew of Grindelwald's character, Grindelwald's path was the path of a tyrant and mass murder.
He did not care. He did not care for the average magical and he definitely cared not for muggles. He had not cared for people in his first life. But he did care for the magical world, the creatures, the plants, and the general idea of a magical society and not the one he was born into.
He also began to care for his family and therefore he cared about the inanity that the wizarding world had tied itself with for it affected him and his family.
And so, he would have to choose a path.
The most difficult path would be fraught with danger and had a high chance of death. It is also the path of highest reward. It would be the path that gained him international acclaim if he became successful.
The major disadvantage of becoming internationally acclaimed was that it was a double edged sword, especially in a world where power was tangible.
He did not want rule the wizarding world in any capacity.
Everything he knew of it indicated a potentially dysfunctional society that would require far more effort than he was willing to put in and it would set targets on his back and his family's.
He was willing to provide the tools and knowledge for the wizarding world to aid itself but force was out of the question for him.
Acclaim would give him the platform he would need to meet people, important people who could very well useful in his plans.
He knew, to change the magical world, particularly magical Britain, it would require monumental effort that would ultimately was likely to fail. If he were to attempt to do so, he would likely be classified as a Dark Lord. He would be fighting centuries of prejudice.
But he could create a sanctuary of a sort as he felt no loyalty to the Isles.
A refuge of people who would meet his criteria and help him build a society that could endure of the inevitable dissolution of the statue of secrecy, whether it was in fifty or in a hundred years.
Participating in this war on the side against Grindelwald would undeniably aid in his quest.
He suspected that war between muggles and magicals would happen eventually.
He just didn't know how devastating it could be.
The upper echelons in some muggle governments must know about magicals and to think that they would not plan ahead would be considered folly.
Once it became public knowledge that magic exists and there are witches, wizards and all kinds of magical creatures among them, mass panic will occur.
The human response dictates it so.
Excessive fear would lead to irrational, irresponsible responses and politicians and religious figures would only fan the flames. Exaggerated beliefs about the threat they posed would become common once the novelty of magic was worn off, the unnaturalness they represented, rooted in religious dogma and texts, and would become the rallying cry of those who would seek to capitalise on fear.
He had seen it before and history is littered with people who were marginalised or exterminated for one reason or another.
However, this time, if the magical world does not navigate exposure in the best possible way, which even then may not be enough, the actions of the muggles would be far beyond anything they had ever done before.
Mutual Assured Destruction and rare sensible individuals had been the only things that had ensured that world wasn't engulfed in nuclear winter and setting the next great dying off, perhaps the very last one.
It could not be guaranteed that rogue elements of governments wouldn't set off nuclear weapons in regions that they identified to house significant numbers of magicals.
Witch hunts would become exponential and experimentation on children would become accepted, just as experimentation on Blacks, Jews and so on had been accepted during various stages of recent history.
In order to be capable of shifting the magical world on the scale he wished to, he would have to be someone of influence, of enough stature and clout, he would need to be extraordinary.
And for that, he would have to take active participation in war as it was the easiest and most direct route of entering the public consciousness.
The problem however was Grindelwald himself.
He held no illusions that he was facing an insurmountable challenge to match Grindelwald at an age of nineteen or twenty.
If he remembered correctly, Dumbledore and Grindelwald were born in the late 19th century, meaning that by 1945 they'd be in their sixties or so.
For him to be able to match Grindelwald, to exceed him, would require him to achieve almost insurmountable level of magical capability.
Grindelwald also wielded the Elder Wand. It was an uphill battle.
The easiest path, and simultaneously the path of obscurity, was to ignore the war and stay far away from it. The war as far as he knew had been going on for decades until it was ended in 1945, meaning many members of Grindelwald would be hardcore veterans.
The combined forces of ICW and liberators would eventually defeat Grindelwald's movement and Dumbledore would eventually defeat Grindelwald.
It would mean his path of having enough influence would become more difficult as Dumbledore would fill the shoes in the public mind that he wanted to occupy.
The impressions that he had gotten of Dumbledore from the books, despite being child friendly, seemed to suggest that he would not become an ally for the beliefs he held, despite him not wanting a war with the muggles in the first place, and having Dumbledore as a political enemy, the man who defeated Grindelwald would be something that he did not need.
If he stayed out of the war, then it would mean that the chances are that events would play out, mostly, in the same manner as they did in canon and Dumbledore would eventually get off his perch and defeats Grindelwald.
That thought soured greatly.
From everything he had read in his previous life, Dumbledore defeating Grindelwald had cemented his legacy and was held in reverence by the wizarding world, at least in the British Isles.
Dumbledore was someone was ill suited for the amount of influence he wielded and he had wielded it so poorly.
He fitted himself be the voice of supposed reason however he had never wielded it in the way he perhaps ought to have.
Dumbledore had deep character flaws, flaws that damaged much of Magical Britain but he knew that Dumbledore likely held off worse consequences for many disenfranchised.
The magical world, after Grindelwald's defeat was primed for another great war as the issues within the magical world had never been resolved to a successful degree and by the time of Rowling's books, probably weren't resolved either.
From that defeat of Grindelwald, Dumbledore within decades managed to gain insurmountable amount of influence within the Wizarding World in the form of Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump.
Dumbledore was said to hold beliefs that muggles were equal to wizards and he in some respects agreed to the notion in an ideal world whereby prejudices and so on did not exist and where wizards and muggles were simply humans who may or may not have some additional abilities.
The problem was that the human psyche did not work like that and for all the advancement, tribal elements still had heavy roots in society.
He had fully intended to exploit those elements but with magic at its core. That hope, that belief in the goodness in people falls short as he should know.
Humans have biases, they have preconceptions and more importantly they are of the belief they are top of the food chain.
Once it becomes discovered that there is a society, or a collection of societies, that are capable of bending reality to their whim, of bending the minds of people to what they wish, there would be massive societal unrest on a unprecedented scale.
He knew that he would have to campaign hard to let everyone see the true danger of muggles and how dangerous ignorance was for the survival of the magical world.
He'd gotten a second chance of life. He'd be damned if he let the stupidity of both groups destroy everything.
He had considered washing his hands off the matter and simply focus on becoming the greatest wizard of all time...but he had grown...possessive of the family he was born into.
There was no reason to do both.
He would need allies, he would need a support base. Luckily for him, he had everything he needed to do just that.
And if he didn't…well…
There wouldn't be anything in the world that could stop him getting what he wants.
Whenever he was alone, which was hardly ever, he used the time he had to accelerate control over his own body.
He discovered that the monitoring charms that were on him didn't include a charm that let them know if he was awake or not and he used this little boon.
By the time he was five months old, he was able to crawl and by age ten months, he was able to walk a short distance.
He had wavered on whether or not he should do this but decided in the end that showing precociousness from the beginning could excuse a lot of other things that they might have otherwise considered abnormal.
Apart from training his body, he certainly hadn't forgotten the most important thing in his life.
The difference between his body and his previous one was too noticeable. He had noticed how different he felt…once you had adjusted for the whole rebirth and unfamiliarity in his new body.
He'd like to say he was intimately aware of his body, certainly in the latter stage of his life, and he'd never felt like this...he knew what he was feeling, sensing was different...this was more...it was as if he had been missing something all his life and he had perceived merely in two dimensions in a three, four dimensional world.
He had spent a lot of time pondering about magic and what he knew of it in his first year of life.
It must be an inherited trait as the frequency of magicals born to wizarding families nearly almost always resulted in magical children.
This might mean that squibs may well be a result of too closely linked relatives or an inborn defect within bloodlines. It was definitely worth investigating as it would perhaps allow a different narrative to be born and allow closer integration of squibs and muggleborns into magical society if he ever felt like fixing the mess that was the magical world.
If magic was an inherited trait then that meant that from birth magicals must have a connection to magic, weak as it might be at the beginning, along with an inborn magical capacity.
That meant that even as an infant, he should have magic. This feeling that he was becoming accustomed to must be magic and that meant that he should be able to access it.
It might be out of his reach for now, close enough for his metaphorical fingertips to brush against it, but soon enough he will be able to successfully tap into his magic.
He'd read that the common episodes of accidental magic flared during stressful, emotional circumstances and that most accidental magic happened during primary school range but this was unacceptable to him. He had magic now and it was his obsession.
And so every night he meditated, dedicating himself to grasping his magic and for months on end, he dedicated his entire being to this. It had been difficult, frustrating to clear his mind of all thoughts but he had slowly but surely been able to do it.
The feeling of more became more and more pronounced when he diverted his attentions inwards seeking for the spark that was within him until he could feel a distinct thrumming underneath his skin.
He could feel this energy that was within him, this supernatural force, circulating through his body like river. It was quiet, almost still but moving in and out from a deep well of power, of energy.
It was clear to him to see that magic was a force, an energy that had the inherent ability to rewrite the laws of nature, capable of altering reality to the whim and will of the individual.
He knew that magic had an intent aspect that children tapped into with emotions but despite being able to sense and feel his magic, he had been unable to rouse it, no matter what he tried.
He played with the animated dragon absentmindedly whilst he thought on how to access his magic as he sat in the living room with his sister, mother and grandmother.
Suddenly a hand reached out and snatched the dragon out of his hand, breaking him of his thoughts. He looked at the offender, Sophia, irritated. The lack of progress regarding his magic was bothering him and it was making him moody.
"Atticus" she sung to him with wide expectant eyes as she wriggled the toy in front of him as if he were a pet.
"Hello Atty, do you want this toy? Come grab it if you can" she giggled and she looked at him with expectant eyes and a hopeful expression.
Mother sighed "Sophia, don't treat your brother like a pet" she said exasperated.
"Mother, I'm not, I'm just playing with him!" she said in a very unconvincing way "Atty can do it, if he can't I'll stop and give it to him, I promise" she chirped as switched her attention at him, expectation clear on her face.
Normally, he'd not care, it was beneath him but the frustrations were getting to him.
He looked at Sophia as dirtily as he could and raised his chubby little hands and made gestures of 'give it to me' to her whilst he babbled her name.
But she remained obstinate and combining with the mood he was in, it had resulted in him having a short fuse.
Before he knew it, his face was set in stone and his anger boiled over all the frustrations he felt, from the stress the day represented, the inability to succeed in his magic, the general idleness and monotonousness of his life so far and he wanted to take the toy out of her hand rather than cave over her demand like he were some kind of performing monkey for her entertainment and his magic responded for the first time with his desires.
At that particular point, he wanted, needed that toy back from her and his magic finally was roused and the toy flew out of Sophia's hands and into his.
Unknown to him, Marie had been about to interject as she took in his face when it had changed from annoyance to a remarkable blank face set in concentration that broke when he looked with anger that looked out of place on a baby's face. She looked on and had been left in surprise when the toy had flown into Atticus' hands.
She stared at the scene, as did Anne. Sophia was wide eyed at the display.
He hadn't noticed of course. He had been absorbed at the feat he had just managed to do. 'Finally managed to do some accidental magic' he thought with glee.
He managed to feel a pull that spiked at the same time as his desire, anger and will when the toy flew in his hands.
'That must have been my magic acting based on my emotions and intent' he thought privately. Now that he has the experience of what his magic acting felt like, he could begin to replicate it in earnest.
While he was lost in his thoughts, his mother snapped out of her stupefaction and stood up and approached him.
"Oh Atticus, did you just do that?" Anne asked with disbelief clear laced in her voice.
He stopped staring at the toy and looked at Anne with wide eyes and a genuine beaming smile. He dropped his smile slightly as he took in his mother face.
"Magic mama – toy" he babbled with excitement that was genuine as he waved the toy that was in his hand.
"Mother, is Atty meant to do magic so young" Sophia asked confused and awed.
"I've never heard accidental magic manifesting so early Sophia" His grandmother Marie exclaimed, disbelief etched on her face.
His mother picked him up and looked at him with pride and inspective eyes "You are my little miracle aren't you?" she said in a strange voice before she kissed him.
He'd have to tone it down for a while, he knew, but he couldn't help but burble happily at the look of pride she gave him. One he felt in equal measure.
After that, the months rolled by and that accident shifted him towards the beginnings of lessons as Ms Florence began to 'teach' him letters and words along with being read more wizarding stories.
The next year or so past quickly and his relationship with his sister grew substantially.
Sophia had taken his display of magic extraordinary well and tasked herself to teach him about magic and the magical world and would every day spend time with him after her own lessons with the tutors reading out the books she had been assigned.
It soon became, quietly, his favourite activity of the day as it had allowed him books of greater complexity and information than what he had been given and was read to by Ms Florence.
After the incident where he had performed accidental magic, he set about to fully accessing his magic. With all the meditation he had done, he knew that he had been improving his memory and had been able to vividly recall the feeling of how his magic felt when he had summoned the toy towards himself.
For over six months, each morning, he'd sit in a meditative stance, deeply in thought focusing on that feeling, simply getting used to how his magic felt. Slowly each day, he widened his connection his magic. It had become nearly addicting, the soothing thrumming of his magic in his body.
All the meditation he had done had bore impressive results beyond improving his memory; he gained clarity and was able to control his thoughts to a degree that he could focus on a single strand or have his mind absent of all thoughts. With a clear mind during meditation, he believed his sensitivity to magic had increased.
He focused on his magic and opened his eyes and looked at the toy that was in front of me. He focused on how it felt when he summoned that toy that spike in his magic that occurred and willed his magic to bring the toy to him.
The toy flew towards him and hit him in the chest. He couldn't help but smile as it took him over a month a half to get to this stage and succeed.
However, nothing was to last, not even his family. He had grown appreciatively of his family, even fond of them.
He had never experienced parental love and he had received it in spades in his short time in this new life of his. It had come crashing down one morning when word had been received of what had happened in America.
It had been a typical winter's morning in December 1926. He was lounging in a comfortable leather chair in the main living room with a book in his hands, adjacent to where his sister was sitting who had been reading herself.
The house was quieter than normal, Ms Florence took the last few days off visiting and their parents and great grandfather Benedict had been away since this morning before well before dawn.
Dayton was the one who remained at the home. He had been grimfaced and had not answered any of the questions Sophia had but it had been clear that something terrible had happened.
Soon enough, it was nearing evening when their parents and Benedict had returned. Benedict whispered some words to their father and walked away towards the stairs. He watched Benedict go before bringing his attention towards his parents.
He looked at their faces and saw that they were in grief. Sophia left my side and walked up to them in a hurried pace.
"Father, mother, what happened? Why are you sad?" She asked worriedly.
"Oh sweetheart" Mother said and crouched down and hugged Sophia fiercely. Mother proceeded to hold Sophia's had and dragged her towards the couch and father had sat beside him and lifted him on his lap.
He looked up at his father and his father simply looked down at him with a saddened expression but he could see a glimmer of anger mixed in his eyes. Markus was not a man who was overly expressive but today it seemed like it had broken a piece from him.
Mother sighed and grabbed everyone's attention.
Anne POV
Anne looked at Sophia sadly. Out of all of them, Sophia had adored her grandmother the most. She had spent most of her time with her when she wasn't studying or with Atticus and had a lot of fun with her.
Marie was a sweet character but she had retained her Scottish fire all these years and whenever she was with Sophia, it had come out in force. It wasn't unfamiliar to hear Sophia's giggling and laughter during midday ringing through the manor and seeing Marie grin unrepentantly at Sam when he would chastise her for whatever she did or said.
Sam had a soft spot for Sophia, just like he did with his daughter and had more often than not acquiesced to her. Anne closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She opened her eyes and grabbed Sophia's hands and looked at her sadly.
She would be breaking Sophia's heart, she knew, when she told Sophia of the news of what had happened to her grandparents.
"It's about grandmother and grandfather. As you know, they were in America for the past week visiting your aunt and cousins along with visiting a few other relatives." She said. Sophia's eyes had widened.
"Are Sara and Odette OK? Aunt Christa? I was meant to see them not to long from now" Sophia quick fired.
Anne shook her head "No, they are fine. No, something has happened with your grandparents. Sophia, I'm sorry to say they died" Anne said gently.
Sophia's mouth dropped before closing and her face twisted a little and she began to sob. Anne moved quickly and enveloped her with a hug.
Sophia began to cry deeply into her mother's shoulder, soaking it with her tears. It took more than a few minutes for Sophia to regain a measure of composure.
She wiped her face with her sleeve and she looked up at her mother with reddened eyes "What happened" she half demanded with a small voice as she looked down at the floor, so unlike the confident bubbly girl she was.
"Your grandfather needed to visit MACUSA for reasons related to our house since we are a Founding house in America." She sighed.
"Unfortunately, it was very bad timing and bad luck because Grindelwald was there" Sophia gasped and held her hand to her mouth. "Why was he there?" Sophia asked with a little bit of tremble in her voice.
The talk of Grindelwald was something that was ever present in their household, Grindelwald had been busy in the last decade and it seemed like it was ramping up, as evidenced at what happened in America.
Anne and Markus did not censure their conversations around their children as they believed the more informed they were, the better, even if they were so young.
Of course they would not talk about the more sensitive things but generally they talked freely around their children.
Anne broke away from her stray thoughts. "We do not know. We had not been informed as for the reason he was there but he had a direct role in what had happened. There was an Obscurial, a very powerful one that had gotten loose and had very nearly destroyed the statue of secrecy" she said trailing as she looked away.
To think that an Obscurial of such power existed...Anne internally shuddered at the thought. Obscurials were rare. Exceedingly so in this era, especially in nations with governments...To have missed out on a child of such potential, ruined by muggles...she hated muggles for their violence and hate.
Not to the degree like the Blacks do but she did hate them nonetheless and this was just simply more proof that they should have nothing to do with them.
"What's an obscurial?" Sophia asked confusedly. Anne snapped her head back to her daughter and replied "An Obscurial is a witch or wizard who has repressed his or her magic resulting in a dark parasitical thing called obscurus developing" Anne said sadly.
Sophia was shocked at the thought "why would their repress their magic?"
Anne sighed. She did not want to tell her but she would find out eventually "It would develop if a child is abused physically, mentally or both. The child begins to repress their magic, either because they resent it or they are under the impression that it's a bad thing and that's how an obscurial is made. An Obscurial is something that is completely out of control and it is exceedingly dangerous" Anne finished sadly.
Sophia looked down "Is that why grandma and grandpa died?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, Grindelwald released the Obscurial into New York and it had created havoc. It destroyed many buildings during its rampage and the MACUSA building was amongst the buildings that were damaged. It was a huge breach of the statute and your grandparents decided to aid the Aurors and ministry officials in dealing with the Obscurial. Unfortunately, Grindelwald wasn't alone." She sighed and grief, anger and resignation were apparent on her face
"His followers were in the city, waiting on his call and they had answered." She closed her eyes "A battle erupted in the middle of the city and it was vicious. Dozens of people are dead, both his fanatics and Aurors. And among them were Sam and Marie." She opened her eyes and tears began to fall down and she smiled sadly
"It seems like your grandfather managed to save the president of MACUSA before being stricken down and your grandmother enraged took down the one who killed him but soon she followed in death" she said sadly as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief that popped into existence.
She looked at Sophia and sadly smiled "It seems as if your grandmother couldn't be separated from your grandfather too long." She said solemny
Sophia began to tear up again and looked up at her mother and moved to hug her. Anne met her halfway and consoled her rubbing her back.
Atticus POV
He listened raptly to the explanation.
The talks in the family had gone on for another hour before he was taken to his room. He lied there, unable to sleep.
He was unsure whether he loved his grandparents. He was fond of them but he was unsure if he knew what love was. He cared more about his grandmother than he did his grandfather.
She was lovely and genuinely had shown care for him. But they were his. They belonged to him.
And Grindelwald had taken them away from him, from the rest of his family.
He paused at that train of thought. Did that mean he loved his grandmother?
He frowned, he did not know. His fucked up childhood still had an effect on him in his new life. He sighed and became more determined to master magic as quickly as he could.
-Break-
The funeral was held six days later. It was a cold, frigid morning, with dark and grey clouds overcast perfectly encapsulating the mood. The site where they would be buried was a site where over generations of Sayres were burned. It was reserved for only the Sayre family and it held meaning.
The turnout for the funeral was much larger than he had thought would come though he shouldn't have been surprised. Samuel Sayre was the Lord of the House, an incredibly influential man, powerful too before his death.
The entire family arrived. The cousins, aunt, uncle and great uncle were among the crowd.
He hadn't been allowed to see the body up close, not that he had expected it. He could however see how it was arranged. Their bodies were situated on a single pyre, preparations being made to burn the bodies.
He supposed it made sense. You wouldn't want their bodies to be desecrated or used against you.
This had been his first true loss. In either lives. He closed his eyes and turned away. He was being held by his mother.
Soon enough the service had begin. A number of people stepped up to speak on behalf of them, some of them he recognised the family names of. A Bones, a Avery, a Black and a Abbott.
His father had been the one to cast the Incendio first. Then it had been his great grandfather, followed by his brother, his cousins and lastly his mother for she married into the Sayre family.
Thick black smoke dominated the scene which had been contained as a ward directed the flames high up in the sky.
The fire had continued for hours until the ashes were collected and placed inside an urn which would later be interned in the family mausoleum.
-Break-
In the years since the death of his grandparents a large shadow had been cast on the family. The home had felt less warm without the presence of his grandmother. Sophia had been deeply affected by her absence.
In truth, he had been feeling her absence as well. She was far more unorthodox than he had expected a pureblood matriarch to be.
In time, Sophia more and more returned to her former self but she had lost a part of her innocence. While she was still the energetic girl of time's past, there was still an element of sadness within her. She would eventually get over her grief, she was young enough to achieve it.
His father on the other hand had taken the loss deeply. He had grown more distant and had taken on the duties of expected of him and kept up with his work at the Ministry which had left him very little time for his family.
The only one who had more or less remained the same was their mother who had helped keep the bond of family.
The presence of fewer people in the Manor had allowed him the space he needed and wanted to increase his academic progress. He had never been denied access to the family library and he had taken full advantage of it.
Once he had hit the age of four, he'd been given a loaded academic schedule which had suited him just fine. When the family had noticed his intellect and interest in learning, he had been actively encouraged in his academic endeavours and they had been pleased the progress he had been making.
He had been glad for it as he had been limited to certain sections of the library. His schedule had included languages which Ms Florence had taken to teach him. He had been instructed in French, Latin and German.
Luckily he had never learnt any of these languages in his previous life so his progress had been slower than his progress in understanding the basics of magic.
One of the things he had been noticing was that his mind had been more capable than he remembered having. He had always been intelligent but now he was able to make deductions far faster.
He had inklings that the brain that he now possessed was of a higher scale than he previously had which only pleased him more. Perhaps magic also had an influence. He had always valued his mind the most in his previous life which had been the reason he had refused the surgery in the first place.
The family library was vast, it being easily the largest room in the manor and he spent the majority of each day cooped poring and obsessively absorb every book and tome he could get his hands on. You could easily find him settling into the comfortable leather chair that he had marked as his own.
The library was segregated into four sections; a general quarter that consisted of major branches of magic, even those that were not acceptable in Wizarding Britain, a mastery quarter that held tomes and journals that were mostly deeper investigations in a wider range of branches of magic that aided individuals in grasping magic on a mastery level and obscure branches of magic that were heavily frowned upon but not quite illegal, a family quarter that was explicit and tied into blood magic that prevented anyone unsanctioned from entering and lastly the Lords' and Heir' quarter.
He'd been told by his great grandfather that he will be allowed to enter that quarter when he reaches the age of thirteen and that it was related to the family magic.
Most of the books that he spent reading during this time in his life were rooted in magical theory. He wanted to have a deep grounding into the fundamental nature of magic and so had spent much of his time pouring over the mass of tomes that were freely available.
One of the books that greatly aided him was Magical Theory: Pillars of Magic by M. Crafton which had given him the grounding he needed in magical theory. The book had described four fundamental pillars of magic; intent, will power, imagination and magical power.
It further expounded on the notion that magic had no light or dark inclination and that it simply was but that it had a form of sentience, that magic wasn't intelligent but that it had understanding of the conscious and subconscious intent of the individual that is driven by the emotional reaction.
An example to the necessity of magic needing to know the intent of the individual is for example the inability of creating binding oaths without the individual intending to do so.
The pillars are not separate columns but interwoven, intrinsically linked pillars. The majority of branches of magic require combinations of the four but some require more of one or two of the pillars than the others.
An example of this is transfiguration. Transfiguration depended greatly more on willpower and creativity once your intent was clearly defined.
The success of your transfiguration henceforth would depend on your magical power as it is one of the most power intensive branches of magic. Subjects and objects have a natural state of being; there's a minimal amount of power required to bring objects from a state of natural being, in a state of rest, into the transfigured state, animated or not.
Transfiguration masters were able to gage the required magical power for each transfiguration or conjuration resulting in little magic being lost. Not only that, the creativity and will power necessary to transition so quickly from one state to another, with many multiple transfigurations had me excited as it was a goal to reach.
He suspected that he didn't lack in magical power at all and that magical power is something that can be increased naturally (though he intended to perform rituals to boost his magic).
As he absorbed as much as he could from the book, there was a certain section within the book that had stuck with him.
From first year until fifth or sixth year of magical school, children are taught wand movements and incantations. The first steps into magic are purposely led to be simple. 'Do the wand movements and say the words correctly and you will produce your results'. This results in the students using intent, willpower and magical power but no creativity to get results.
It spoke of incantations and wand movements having a purpose of making the child believe that what they are doing is possible and as they are progressed until the later years of magical schooling with better grounding in magical theory, the better students will begin to understand that wand movements and incantations are crutches until they have the belief and understanding of magic and in their magic.
The wand movements were symbols representing the effect of the magic they were casting, drilling in their heads a representative gesture of what they wanted to happen, willed to happen.
It made sense as children would have preconceived notions of what is possible and these beliefs would hamper them. Ultimately, the book went on to explain how it was the educator's responsibility to develop the children's belief system.
The thing that aggravated him was why certain Latin or bastardised Latin words held power. Was it because during spell creation those Latin words were given power by the individual and their magic? Or was it something more?
He had found some explanations regarding it...about how a connection of the meaning and effect of the words is formed to the magic, similar to the symbolism of the wand movements.
But what he didn't understand was the nature of the magic being the same that was being cast by different individuals.
A Protego, a Stupify, would have the same characteristics from one individual to another, down to the very colour of the magic.
What did that mean?
He understood that intent of the magic being cast would result in similar effects but why was it all so similar? Of course there were elements of power to consider but what made magic so...standard in this way?
When you consider spell creation, the formulaic way of finding Latin or approximations of Latin words along with wand movements was something that was strange in itself.
Were the movements and words binding magic to act in a certain that remains imprinted on the super organism, the force, magic was? He would have to look into wand movements to see what they were.
He had no doubt it would these were things that he would resolve. He had begun to compile a preliminary list of things to do before he joined the war or left Hogwarts. His pre Hogwarts list were so far
1. Get up to fifth year knowledge of Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and DADA and if possible Potions as well.
2. Get familiarised with rituals and perhaps if possible undergo a few of them once it has been verified that it would not damage him
3. Expand wandless capabilities with the aim of being at least capable of casting a shield and stunning spell
4. Decent proficiency in Legillimency and more importantly Occlumency
5. Familiarising with the political landscape
6. Gain understanding of Blood Magic, Soul Magic, Alchemy and other esoteric forms of magic in preparation for later exploration
He knew that he was setting himself a hefty schedule and he no doubt that he would have difficulty achieving those all in the time he had but he would no less attempt it.
His long term plans were simple.
1. Gain a very long extended life or immortality if possible through ethical means (He did not want to face magical backlash)
2. Build a massive portable home filled with every single species of magical creatures, magical plants and more. (He had the image of Asgard in his mind.)
3. Become unparalleled in magic, both in power and in understanding.
4. Find and publish new findings of magic. Become known as a great in magical research and publishing
5. Build commercial institutions in both muggle and magical world using the knowledge he had of both worlds and of the future with the aim of propelling both societies in the way he wanted – for the magical to close the gap with the muggles – and for the muggles to grow dependent on his companies and to monitor them (he had intentions to ensure when the world entered the digital stage, the companies he had were capable of filtering anything related to magic)
6. Find a way to absorb information from scientists of every branch of science and technology. Perhaps do the same with expert wizards and witches.
7. Create an institution of magic and science inviting children from age 6 (Figure out how the Hogwarts book of students works)
8. Develop space capabilities. See if magic was a universal force which if it was, it meant everything was possible.
9. If theory of magic is universal, explore feasibility of Venus being terraformed and it becoming the home of the magical world – on his conditions.
He had a number of ideas of how to achieve an extended life or perhaps even immortality. Becoming the Master of Death was not included here.
There had been neither a verification of it meaning immortality nor even a hint of veracity of actually becoming the Master of Death.
It seems exceedingly unlikely that three items were capable of binding Death to a mortal, binding a universal aspect to a mortal. He did not dismiss the feasibility of Death having a aspect, a form that represented Death, after all, here he was reborn in a world that had been previously fiction to him.
No, chances are Death as an aspect existed and the Hallows united could be an even bigger trap than the stone and the wand.
He would not leave them lying around however. He had fully intended on gathering the Stone and the Wand but he would not use either until he understood fully what they meant.
No, master of Death did not feature in his ideas of how to gain immortality or extended life...No, they resolved on rituals.
The few things he was able to read up on it had inspired him. Nothing was impossible for magic, once understanding, power, capability, intent and the will existed. And rituals were the perfect vehicle to execute his desires.
There were many magical creatures that had extended lives; Basilisks for example had a lifespan of at least a thousand years. Phoenixes were immortal. He had an understanding what caused aging in humans and mammals.
He had a thought of the feasibility of creating rituals that capitalised on sacrificing one or both of these creatures to gain immortality or extended life.
He had no doubt that he would spend a lot of time trying to figure out a way to balance the ritual so that he would gain the benefits of extended life or immortality.
Another one of his ideas had been regarding horcruxes. He had no intention of creating any, for it was a violation of the soul and the soul was something that was utterly totally priceless to him.
But he wanted to understand the mechanism of creating one. He wanted to understand the process of binding a soul to another object or living thing. The separation of the soul from the body...would it be possible to bind his soul to his body? After all, the killing curse from what he could understand revolved around the removal of the bonds of the soul and the body.
It does not destroy the soul, it does not damage the soul of the victim, and it simply removes it. He could perhaps create rituals that do as he intended, create an indestructible bond between body and soul (and mind perhaps) that only he could affect, negating the killing curse.
He would of course do this after he had undergone rituals that made his body capable of healing of anything and everything.
He wanted to also explore what happened to soul after death in this universe. Whether for example the astral plane was real...If it was real, he could utilise this among his different forms of immortality.
Binding the advantages he had put his body through onto his soul. His magic, his enhanced healing, his immortality of the body, all of it engraved on his soul so that he if he chose to reincarnate his new body would have the same advantages.
He hoped that he would be able to come up with a set of rituals that made his survival all but guaranteed before he left Hogwarts. There were many things that he would have to learn in order to achieve this goal. One of them would be the understanding of the human body.
He had some knowledge of the intricacies of the inner workings of the human body but not enough to be truly helpful. He would have to lift the knowledge from doctors when he was capable enough in Legillimency.
Creating a home like Asgard was something that truly excited him. Scamander was able to have a portable home that was filled with different climates and was huge. Expansion charms and runes were definitely on his list to learn.
In any case, he fully intended to create a marvel of a home. He had been some wizarding stories of people who created truly magical locations but he had found nothing on the kind of creation he was thinking of doing.
Creating a place like Asgard would perhaps be more difficult than extended life.
He would need to be at the very least as capable as Rune Masters, Charms Masters, Transfiguration Masters, Herbology Masters, have Master level of understanding when it comes to metallurgy, forging and he most likely would need the same level of proficiency in Alchemy.
And he would not be able to do it without dedicating years, mostly likely decades to the project, cutting into the time of other projects.
It would a daunting prospect but one he fully intended on carrying out. He already had ideas on how to cut time on the project.
It revolved around House Elves and Golems. He had found out from Tweenie that House Elves could be bought from the ministry and that the House Elves they had numbered at the very least 60 to 90. It boggled his mind that there were so many House Elves available.
He fully intended to purchase them all when he had the capital. The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets would be the prime source of income as he did not want to alert his family to what he was doing. He had read that Goblins desired rare meats and what could be rarer than a thousand year old Basilisk?
In any case, House Elves would serve as a major source of labour – in truth, he also wanted to deprive purebloods of elves for them to mistreat, they were the perfect beings, loyal, kind and powerful.
It boggled his mind that they did not see the potential – though he would also see if they were capable of learning what he wanted them to learn. Tweenie had explained to him what Elf magic was, after much prodding and gentle coaxing, and though they wanted a bond with a family, or a highly magical place such as Hogwarts, they had their own magic.
The elves grew in strength and were fed magic from the source if they were bonded but they were capable of surviving without but it would lessen their strength as much of their strength is derived from serving.
He saw no reason for the elves to be incapable of drawing runes or similar things that would only need him to activate it. If he managed to find out how to create mithril, he might well instruct his elves to do it.
Golems were something that he intended to research. His manor had a number of them which were defensive in nature. he saw no real difference between them and a computer program.
He was well versed in coding so he should be able to enchant complicated actions into the golems. In addition, he wanted to figure out how portraits worked as it would give him the possibility to create artificial intelligence.
With the prospect of magic, he was leery of creating one as there could be many things that could go wrong. Creating an AI technologically would have been something that would have given him pause, never mind creating a magical one.
He would not do so unless the AI were fully shackled and bound to his will and incapable of committing treasonous actions or even thinking treasonous things.
The AI, if it panned out, would be extremely useful in managing the many things he would want to do and would be capable of researching things that he had no time for.
Managing his muggle businesses and keeping the statue of secrecy intact would have been one of the many things he would utilise it for.
Just like with creating an Asgard, exploring the possibility of space was something he was excited for. He wanted to know if magic existed as a universal force and he intended to do so by measuring the amount of magic that was present in vacuum and on the moon.
He had a theory that magic was stronger where there was life but magic was still ever present everywhere. If that was correct, then he could very well find a way to harness magic on a massive scale. It would allow for so many different applications, one of them being the terraforming of Venus.
While Venus was a Hell world in every sense of the world, it was close in size to Earth, something like 0.9 something percent in mass. It was the reason why he preferred Venus to Mars as it would not affect the bodies of animals and humans the way Mars would.
Plus it had an atmosphere that could support life. Of course, while Venus' atmosphere is toxic, with magic, it should be possible to transmute the atmosphere of Venus to Earth composition.
Converting toxic gases into air...oxygen and nitrogen...perhaps even also water...he thought that it was something achievable. The philosopher's stone was capable of transmuting material into gold, why should a stone or device not be capable of doing it on a gas?
He would need to meet with Flamel once he verified things pertaining to space. In the HP Universe, the Flamels had decided to die, supposedly, after the stone was destroyed.
He had reasonable confidence that they would not consider dying if he told them of the possibility of transforming a world in the scale that he was thinking of.