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HP: Blessed by Magic

Psychopathic
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Arlo Flord suddenly finds himself in the world of Harry Potter. Under the new name Aurelius Shafiq, he finds himself in the pure-blooded House of Shafiq. Known for its strength in magical theory, but for its weakness in magical power. He quickly realises that reality is very different from what he had expected.
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Chapter 1 - Prolog

I rode my bike slowly along the road. Dark shadows flitted across the asphalt. The exhaustion from karate training was evident in my slow pace.

My thoughts, however, were elsewhere. I multiplied, divided, subtracted and added numbers in my head – an attempt to fill the inner void. But the indifference did not go away; it was even written all over my face.

A strand of dark blond hair fell across my face, my sea-blue eyes staring expressionlessly ahead. Many would probably consider me attractive: pale skin, slim, muscular build. But my neutral gaze immediately destroyed that image.

I was born on the autistic spectrum. Feeling emotions was almost impossible for me. Combined with a high IQ, this made me an outsider early on – 'weird,' as the others said. At some point, I stopped looking for belonging. Instead, indifference became a habit. Karate, chess and books filled the void.

Especially books.

I pushed these thoughts aside as I continued my mental exercise.

The path became steeper. I stretched out my arms, closed my eyes and let the wind blow through my hair. For a brief moment, something strange, almost uplifting, filled the emptiness inside me.

But before I could explore this feeling, a loud horn jolted me back to reality.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a VW speeding towards me. Impossible – this path was only built for bicycles.

I tried to get out of the way, but the car crashed into me sideways. Before I could even think, I was lying on the ground. In slow motion, the car continued to race towards me.

Was that it?

Were those the last moments of my fourteen-year-old life?

Out of defiance, I tried to sit up, but the tyres pressed me down. An unbearable pressure weighed on my chest – then the crack of my ribs.

The car stopped.

Relief flashed through me – and gave way to bitter irony: the pressure on my chest remained.

I struggled to think clearly while the voices of the passengers screamed in panic. Dizziness set in, cold sweat broke out.

If I wasn't mistaken, these were signs of internal bleeding.

I'm screwed. 

Ten minutes later

Finally, I heard the sirens of an ambulance.

'Just a little longer,' I thought, 'then I'll have made it.'

But shortly afterwards, I could hardly breathe.

Black edges ate into my field of vision, cold crept into my limbs.

Instinctively, I knew: I was going to die.

I waited for sadness, regret – nothing.

Even at the end, I couldn't feel like other people.

Grief, joy, guilt, fear, anger and love – I still wanted to experience all of that.

But darkness descended upon me. My senses faded, numbness spread.

I let go.

The darkness engulfed me.