Godric's Hollow was a quiet village, but for magical children, quiet was never the same as boring. Victor, nearing eleven, had grown into a boy with sharp blue eyes and an intensity that set him apart. He preferred books, runes, and the silent challenge of his own thoughts — until he crossed paths with the Dumbledore brothers.
It began with Aberforth. The younger boy, stocky and stubborn, was struggling with a goat near the pasture. The goat tugged at its rope, chewing happily at a fence post, while Aberforth growled in frustration.
"You're pulling too hard," Victor observed. "That only makes it fight you."
Aberforth glared. "And you think you can do better?"
Victor crouched, brushed the goat's head, and sent a pulse of calm magic into the animal. The goat bleated and walked obediently away from the fence.
Aberforth blinked. "…Huh. Albus! Get over here!"
A tall, thin boy appeared, a book tucked under his arm, eyes bright with curiosity. His gaze lingered on Victor, sharp and searching.
"You're Victor Sinclair," he said. "I've heard of you."
"And you're Albus Dumbledore," Victor replied smoothly. "Your reputation is already loud enough for this little village."
Their eyes met — and something unspoken clicked.
From that day on, Victor found himself with companions. Aberforth dragged him into scrapes with goats and chores, while Albus pressed him into long debates about theory and magic.
But Victor had an edge. Quietly, carefully, he peeked into their minds.
Albus's thoughts raced with dazzling complexity, threads of logic and creativity weaving together. He dreamed of worlds reshaped, of magic breaking free from secrecy.
Aberforth's mind was simpler, stubborn and blunt, but filled with fierce loyalty — and a surprising softness for animals.
Victor never pushed too far. He dipped just enough to understand them, to see where their truths and weaknesses lay. It made him… cautious. It also made him confident.
One evening, after a heated discussion on magical law, Albus caught Victor watching him strangely.
"What are you doing?" Albus asked.
Victor hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Testing you. You think loudly, Albus. Too loudly. Anyone trained in the mind arts could pluck your thoughts like fruit."
Albus stiffened. "You mean Legilimency?"
Victor nodded. "And if you want to protect yourself, you'll need Occlumency."
Albus leaned forward, curiosity blazing. "Teach me."
So they began in secret. Under the cover of twilight, Victor taught Albus the basics — how to still his mind, how to lock away a thought behind barriers. Albus was a quick learner. Within weeks he could shield simple emotions. Within months he could deflect shallow probes.
The bond between them deepened, founded on a dangerous secret: Albus trusted Victor with the keys to his own mind.
Their talks grew bolder.
"Why should we hide from Muggles?" Albus asked one afternoon. "Why let fear dictate the future?"
Victor nodded. "Exactly. Hiding makes us weak. I want a world where magic isn't shackled by fear, where we live openly — not like vermin under floorboards."
Aberforth, listening nearby, snorted. "You sound like you want to rule them."
"Not rule," Victor said softly. "Shape. Guide and Build."
Albus smiled at that, and Victor saw the same hunger mirrored in his friend's eyes.
At night, while others slept, Victor pushed himself further. His ritual of magical exhaustion continued — draining his reserves until his body shook, then letting them recover stronger each day. His magic was growing in both power and endurance.
But more than raw strength, Victor hungered for innovation.
Ancient Runes and Arithmancy fascinated him. They weren't just subjects to memorize — they were tools to forge new magic. By combining symbols of movement, distance, and instant transition, he began sketching the framework of a spell he called Blink.
Unlike Apparition, Blink was a thousand times better :
It was silent, no thunderclap of displaced air.
It was fast, as instantaneous as thought.
It was unrestricted, ignoring anti-Apparition wards by bypassing space itself.
It was reckless, dangerous, and unfinished. He nearly collapsed more than once trying to channel it. But the idea consumed him.
If he could master Blink, no prison, no enemy, no wall would ever stop him.
One evening as the sun dipped low, Albus closed his book and looked at Victor.
"You know," he said, "I think we are alike. We see further than others. We dream bigger. Together, perhaps, we could reshape the world."
Victor remembered Cassian's warning: Do not trust anyone with your mind.
Yet looking at Albus, brilliant and burning, he allowed himself a dangerous thought.
"Perhaps," Victor said carefully. "Perhaps we will."
To Be Continued…