Finally, with the wand in my hand, I could begin the real work.
Magic was no longer abstract. No longer a flicker of light or a whisper of power. It was mine to shape — malleable, responsive, alive.
I spent my mornings in the castle, practicing charms, defensive spells, and hexes. Every flick of my wrist, every whispered incantation, I could feel the magic flowing through me, shaping the world to my will.
A simple Levitation Charm became effortless. Objects danced around me at my command, floating, spinning, and landing precisely where I wanted. The Lumos I had once struggled with now shone brightly in both hands, casting twin beams of light that made the empty halls of Hogwarts feel alive.
But raw destructive power was no use without knowledge of defense. I focused on shield charms and basic counter-curses, testing them repeatedly. Each failure was a lesson; each success, a thrill.
Afternoons were reserved for potions and magical studies.
I wandered the surrounding forests, mapping plants, memorizing their properties, noting which could heal, which could harm, and which could enhance magic.Fawkes — my phoenix familiar — hovered nearby, occasionally leaving feathers behind that pulsed with latent energy, perfect for infusion.
The Thestrals and other magical creatures in my domain became my students and my subjects. I studied their habits, their diets, their unique magical essences. A potion brewed with dragonfly wings from the forest or a carefully harvested Thestral hair could amplify spells beyond what raw energy could do.
I realized something important:
Potions weren't just helpful.A single vial, perfectly brewed, could be deadlier than an incantation from a full year of advanced study. One bottle of enhanced sleeping potion could incapacitate a band of marauding Orcs; a well-timed charm could destroy them outright, but at a cost of energy I didn't always want to expend.
So I poured myself into learning both disciplines simultaneously: spellcraft and potioncraft, magic of action and magic of preparation.
Every day was long, grueling, and exhausting — but I could feel myself growing stronger.My spells became faster, more precise. My control over magical energy steadied. Potions I once had to retry a dozen times now brewed perfectly on the first attempt.
By the end of each day, my hands were sore from wandwork and stirring cauldrons. My head ached from memorizing properties, ingredients, and incantations. But each night, as I gazed at Hogwarts' silent towers and listened to the forest breathing around me, I knew I was building a foundation no ordinary wizard could match.
I was no longer just surviving.I was preparing.
For war.For conquest.For the day I would leave Hogwarts and shape Middle-earth itself.