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Seeing that Aunty Molly was getting busy in the kitchen, Aiden decided not to disturb her. Instead, he made his way out to the reed field, where the gnome kingdom was thriving. The construction was in full swing—over forty tunnels had been dug, each just the right size for gnomes, about a foot high. Of course, that was hardly comfortable for a boy of Aiden's height, but he didn't mind crouching for a while.
He approached one of the cave entrances, where two gnomes stood guard. "Go and gather all the gnomes," he instructed.
The gnomes nodded and scurried underground. About a quarter of an hour later, more than twenty gnomes surfaced, encircling Aiden in a loose ring. He stood in the center, activating his abilities. He imitated the gnomes' body language and, with a gentle nudge of suggestion, planted the idea in their minds: "We are all birds."
Immediately, the gnomes began to flap their arms and leap about, trying to fly. Of course, lacking wings, they merely rolled and tumbled on the grass, much to Aiden's amusement. He followed up with a series of suggestions—intimidation, frenzy, and then calm. Each time, the gnomes responded perfectly, confirming that his extraordinary abilities could indeed influence others.
Satisfied, Aiden drew his wand and tapped it in the air. "Lumos." A soft light blossomed, its glow reflected in the gnomes' wide eyes. He took the opportunity to use Legilimency, reaching into the gnomes' minds. But their mental landscapes were barren—nothing but the simplest desires for food and reproduction. Finding nothing of interest, Aiden sent another suggestion for them to return to their tunnels, ending his experiment.
*****
Back at the Burrow, Aiden crossed paths with Uncle Arthur, who was just returning from work with his briefcase in hand. "Aiden, you're back," Arthur greeted him warmly.
"Yes, Uncle Arthur. Aunty Molly seems to have prepared a splendid dinner for us. Let's go in."
The two entered the house together. The kitchen was filled with mouth-watering aromas: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetable salad, and homemade bread shaped like magic wands. Aunty Molly had even made the children's favorite chocolate cake.
The family gathered around the table, laughter and conversation filling the room. The meal was hearty and comforting, a reminder of the warmth and security of home.
*****
The following morning, Aiden received a letter from Professor Dumbledore, inviting him to Godric's Hollow. He arrived promptly, curiosity bubbling within him.
"Good morning, Professor. Is there something you'd like to tell me today, or perhaps a new spell you wish to teach?" Aiden asked, his tone expectant.
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "Good morning, Aiden. Forgive the shallowness of an old man. Your progress is astonishing. I fear you've nearly emptied my mind of all its secrets. I should probably leave some of the pleasure of teaching for the other professors at Hogwarts."
Aiden resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn't read Dumbledore's mind, but with his growing Visionary Pathway abilities, it was easy to see through the old wizard's gentle teasing.
"The main reason I asked you here today is to speak about you—and your future," Dumbledore said, his gaze suddenly serious.
"Child, I know you possess talents in magic that are beyond the reach of most. Your vision is often different from others'. Once, when I was teaching a young wizard, I made a mistake that led to consequences I regret to this day. I blamed myself for decades afterwards."
Dumbledore sat down on the sofa and handed Aiden a cup of black tea.
"And now, facing a student with such gifts again, I cannot afford to make the wrong choice. So, may we talk?"
Aiden looked at the old man before him. More than a century of hardship had etched lines into Dumbledore's face and had taken away his family and friends. Now, this venerable wizard was laying bare his pain, seeking only honesty in return. Aiden felt a pang of empathy.
"Very well, Professor. It's time to talk. I don't have much desire for power, fame, or wealth, though I certainly wouldn't mind having them," Aiden said with a small smile, sipping his tea.
"And your greatest worry, Professor, is what kind of mark I'll leave on the wizarding world—on both wizards and Muggles."
Dumbledore sat up straighter, listening intently.
"Professor, I don't intend to do anything," Aiden said simply.
"Nothing?" Dumbledore echoed, surprised.
"Yes, Professor. What I want most is to live peacefully with my family, free from worry. There's a philosopher from the Far East who once said that the greatest thing a person can do is to do nothing at all." Aiden smiled, his expression serene.
"I don't necessarily have to be in conflict with the wizarding world or with Muggles. I won't deny that I seek power, but after gaining it, I'd rather not use it than wield it for the sake of doing something. After all, isn't the true value of power the right to refuse?"
Aiden subtly used his ability on himself, making his voice and face appear utterly sincere, though he kept his true intentions carefully hidden.
Dumbledore seemed to relax, a burden easing from his shoulders. "That answer does put me at ease. Forgive me for being so anxious."
Aiden watched the old wizard fall into thoughtful silence and found himself reflecting as well. Was he really so different from the Dark Lord?
A chime sounded in his mind. "Ding. You possess a strong talent for magic and excel at manipulating others. If you were to wield Dark Arts recklessly, you'd have all the makings of a Dark Lord," the system remarked, its tone almost playful.
"Shut up. I gave you access to my mind, and this is how you use it?" Aiden retorted mentally.
"Ding. You're anxious."
Aiden groaned inwardly.
Just then, Dumbledore stirred from his reverie. "Child, I've taken up enough of your time today. I'll be off." He stood, crossed the room, and with a swirl of his cloak, vanished in a flash of magic before Aiden could even say goodbye.
Aiden stared at the empty space where Dumbledore had been. "That old bee—he claims to be ancient, but he's still as swift and decisive as ever," he muttered.
"Ding. Dark Lord..."
"Be quiet."
"But Professor, your worries aren't unfounded. Climbing the Sequence inevitably means losing some of your humanity," Aiden thought, sighing as he made his way back to the Burrow through the fireplace.
*****
That night, lying in bed, Aiden found himself deep in conversation with the system.
"By the way, System, I've always wondered—why does my magic value show as a question mark?"
"Ding. What do you think magic is, host?"
"Er... something like spirituality, stored in the body of a wizard or extraordinary being?"
"Ding. The host is mistaken. The bodies of naturally awakened wizards among Muggles are no different from those of ordinary people. They don't have organs for storing magic. Yet wizards can easily distort reality when casting spells. Why do you think that is?"
"Because wizards are powerful?"
"Ding. Yes and no. Magic is a miracle bestowed upon a select few by the world. The true threshold is the soul. Wizards' souls serve as interfaces to the world itself. When their will combines with magic—the blood of the world—they can distort reality."
Aiden's eyes widened. "So I could, in theory, do anything?"
"Ding. The host is overthinking. While the source of magic is the world, using it still puts strain on the body and soul. In theory, physical and mental strength are the limits of magic, but these attributes are dynamic, so the specific value cannot be calculated."
"Ding. Furthermore, your advancement along the Visionary Pathway is the process of integrating magic into your body. Over time, your body will develop organs for storing magic, gradually transforming you into a truly extraordinary being."
"Can't others do that?" Aiden asked, curious.
"Ding. Only those who reach the level of an adult wizard or who are born with extraordinary blood can manage it."
"What about magical creatures?"
"Ding. Insufficient data."
"Tch," Aiden muttered, rolling over in bed.
"Ding. =w="
Aiden smiled despite himself, comforted by the familiar banter. He closed his eyes, letting the gentle sounds of the Burrow lull him to sleep.
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