What tipped Viaelle off was something that only practitioners of high magic were sensitive to. A weird manifestation of magical forces, present only when someone... or something... was trying to ascertain the nature of another party's existence.
In his time, it was called the Scrying Chill — the feeling being spied on.
'I was right. There is indeed someone using ancient invocation magic.'
And that tore apart everything mundane that Viaelle had grown accustomed to.
'I'm surprised that it had taken four years for something like this to finally appear in my radar… and another three years to confirm that it was no false positive.'
Thinking this, Viaelle had been digging deeper. The first thing he did was check himself, understanding the makeup of his body wasn't hard, especially with the stimulation of ancient magic permeating the air.
The lack of a magic gene was apparent. However, ever since he was hinted at the existence of magic three years ago, he had been working to break that reality. Such was the result of recognising the facts and sensing the presence of an enchantment that lorded over the mundane.
His depression vanished in an instant, consumed by a rabid desire to harness the limbs he thought he had lost forever. Every waking moment was poured into setting his bones right, and tearing apart the shackles that humanity had long surpassed in his past life.
And now, on his seventh birthday, he finally succeeded.
Using the magic around him, ancient and deep, yet untraceable for anyone other he and his fellow Frankenstein wizards, Viaelle broke his genetic structure and erased whatever was suffocating his magical genes.
In the end, he tore out all four necessary sequences, and fully awakened as a wizard. His body was baptised with the flow of magic, harmonising with the magical forces that ancient magic calls upon. Suddenly, the traces of such ancient enchantments became clear.
…Saturating his surroundings with an unfamiliar gaze.
Viaelle's gaze turned hazy as it traced the enchantment back to its source.
With the presence of magic came latent dangers. Having been a deadly Slaughter Mage in his past life, he knew just how dangerous another practitioner of magic can be, no matter what kind of spells they wielded.
If he had indeed found himself in an unfamiliar world with its own rules of magic, then Viaelle had already exposed himself to their prying eyes.
After all, he used the residual traces left behind by an enchantment to break his shackles. Only old and instinctual magic like his world's ancient magic could do so.
Thus, there was a high likelihood that this world was similar to his own.
However…
"What...?"
Tracing the enchantment back to its source, Viaelle saw something he recognised. A castle that he had only seen in the memories of some ancient beings he had slain — yet even they had never seen such a castle themselves. Such memories had merely been passed down through murder and theft.
Nonetheless, it was a piece of old, old history. Of legends who had once shaped the world.
Viaelle was particularly aware of this castle's close ties to Death and its Deathly Hallows.
'Where Oblivion was born… Where the Dark Pioneer first shattered his soul into eight parts.'
Finally, there was a fairy tale that Viaelle held close to his heart.
It was about The Boy Who Lived.
'I've been sent so far back in time…'
For a moment, the young boy lost all sense of composure. His tracking spell wavered and failed. The visage of the looming castle and the Black Lake soon vanished from sight.
He had been reborn in an era where old fairy tale legends were said to have clashed.
Viaelle could not completely fathom the truth.
'Harry Potter… was real..?'
He shivered. Excitement erupted in his heart like a flash flood. Harry Potter's era was a turning point in history, so much so that the name of The Boy Who Lived was largely thought to be propaganda against one of the greatest scholars in history — Lord Voldemort.
"Then, the reason why my parents and siblings have no idea why they exist must be because of that… that weird law."
From what Viaelle could vaguely recall from the memories he had plundered, there was still something called the International Statute of Secrecy of 1692 AD around this time.
When that law of secrecy disappeared…
That was when the eras shifted.
'For the worse,'
Viaelle sighed. Humanity waged war upon itself for a hundred years, from 2031 to 2134 AD. Wizards were forced out in the open, and dark wizards thrived in the carnage.
Just like how Grindelwald's War ran parallel to Earth's second world war, the Bloody Century was open for both that era's so called 'muggles' and their magical neighbours. Wizarding opportunists went crazy in those hundred years of chaos. Dark magic advanced by leaps and bounds, becoming the standard for military might. Wizards became dark wizards, and then were hailed as war mages, using the elements to cause havoc, all while wielding a long list of curses and hexes that massacred thousands.
'Merlin...!'
A short gasp escaped Viaelle's lips.
Recognising this terrifying era of many possibilities, he almost screamed out loud. Unfortunately, he could not do that, or his mother would scold him.
If he had been reborn later, there were a lot more he could do. Now, however, in this limited and primitive world where the magical and mundane had yet to combine… Viaelle would be pressed for time yet unable to do anything about it.
He wasn't like those geniuses who pushed magic forward by hook or by crook. No, he was simply someone born so unluckily late that he stood on the shoulders of titans. When Memory Plunder was the only way humanity kept going, all that wizarding knowledge had become easy to pass down, yet difficult to internalise.
Slaughter mages weren't known for having a mind of their own, after all. They just used the spells and invocations they had at their disposal.
By going back into the past, Viaelle was hoping to learn from such amazing geniuses. However, now, he that he had gone too far back, those geniuses and famous schools of thought had yet to exist!
'Well… judging by the look of things, I've already been discovered by Hogwarts.'
From what he knew, some artefact called the Quill of Acceptance sensed his magic, hence the saturation of magic that was caused by his genetic rewriting.
'…I might as well learn more about the Eccentric Era's magic. Who knows? There might be a few surprises. Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort should both be present… I just don't know for sure what state the latter is in.'
Lord Voldemort was famous for existing in and out of reality. As far as Viaelle had studied, Tom Riddle had been pieced back together and resurrected by a few soul scholars in the future.
Also, the fairy tales that Viaelle had read as a kid all talked about Harry Potter killing Voldemort twice. His favourite story was the one when Harry hunted the famous scholar like a rabid dog, killing Voldemort every year he resurrected.
'…I don't think these fairy tales are trustworthy.'
Viaelle was now aware of his next steps in life.