The sound of a baby's cry echoed through a modest but comfortable home on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. For the Sinclairs, those cries were a blessing.
Naomie Rosier, once a proud daughter of an ancient pure-blood family, had been disowned for marrying John Sinclair, a Muggle-born wizard. Since then, they had lived quietly, hoping to expand their little family of two.
Now, after a long and painful labor, they looked down at their first child with shining eyes.
But the child himself was bewildered.
What's going on? I can't talk… my body feels so small… am I a baby? Don't tell me—have I been reincarnated?!
The thoughts spun wildly in his mind. Yet stranger still were the voices that followed.
I have a boy! He has his mother's eyes.
My sweet baby. I'll protect you forever.
The words were not spoken aloud. They rang clearly in his head, and when he saw the wooden stick in his father's hand, everything clicked into place.
No way. This is the Wizarding World of Harry Potter! And if I can hear thoughts… that must mean I'm a natural Legilimens! What a gift to start a new life with!
Naomie leaned down, brushing the baby's soft hair. "John, what do you think of Victor? Doesn't it sound perfect?"
"Yes," John said, his eyes shining. "Victor Sinclair. It suits him."
And thus began the journey of a man reborn into the wizarding world.
-A Year and a Half later-
Victor had quickly pieced together the facts of his new life. He was born in January 1881, only months before a boy named Albus Dumbledore. His parents both worked at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
From the moment he could crawl, Victor had pushed himself. He experimented with wandless magic, believing that conviction and emotion fueled results. He practiced Legilimency, slipping carefully into the minds of strangers. And he tested a theory he had once read in his old life: exhaust your magic daily to expand your reserves. At first nothing happened, but with persistence, his endurance slowly grew.
Still, there were moments that reminded him how dangerous this world truly was.
One afternoon, while wandering near the village with his mother, Victor's curiosity got the better of him. A man passed them on the road, whistling cheerfully, tipping his hat in greeting. He seemed ordinary enough.
Victor reached out with his mind.
At first, he felt surface thoughts—mundane worries about money, a passing irritation with his neighbor. But then, deeper down, he touched something cold. A hidden chamber of violent images: blood, screams, the thrill of cruelty.
The cheerful man's mind was a mask. Beneath it lurked a predator who dreamed of hurting others.
Victor recoiled, his small body trembling. The realization struck him hard. Not everyone in this world was harmless. Magic or not, evil wore smiles.
That night he couldn't sleep. He understood then that Legilimency wasn't just a gift—it was a burden. And yet, it prepared him. He would not be naive. If monsters could hide behind friendly faces, he needed the strength to protect himself and his family.
By the time he turned three, Victor knew he couldn't keep his talent a secret forever. At dinner one evening, he looked at his parents seriously and said, "Mum, Dad… I hear people's thoughts. I didn't mean to, but I can't stop it. I think… I can read mind."
John froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. "At your age? That's impossible."
But Naomie's eyes widened with recognition. "No. Not impossible." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Some families… mine included… occasionally produced natural Legilimens. It's rare, and often dangerous if left unchecked."
Victor nodded. "That's why I want a tutor. Someone who can teach me control. Otherwise, I'll slip into the wrong mind again."
Naomie was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "There is… someone. A distant cousin, though the Rosiers rarely speak of him. He lives in seclusion, far from the family, but his mastery of the mind arts is unparalleled. He is a recluse, secretive, and… not entirely safe. But if anyone can teach you, it's him."
John frowned. "Naomie, is that wise? Bringing him near our son?"
She shook her head. "It's not a matter of wisdom, John. It's necessity. Victor was born with a dangerous gift. Without training, it could consume him."
Victor's heart beat faster. A mysterious mentor, hidden from the world, tied to the Rosier bloodline. Perhaps this was fate—or the first step toward carving his place in wizarding history.
To Be Continued…