Harry's POV
The sun was warm against my face as I lounged on the slightly overgrown grass of the small park, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of a nearby ice cream cart. Children's laughter echoed faintly from the playground, but the section where I sat was quieter—a small patch of shade beneath a tall oak tree.
An old storybook rested on my lap, its worn pages slightly yellowed with age. The intricate calligraphy and faded illustrations spoke of ancient magical theories, but I wasn't really reading. My eyes kept drifting to the girl sitting a short distance away.
She looked about my age—five or six, maybe a little older. Her bushy brown hair was tied into two messy pigtails, though a few stray curls had freed themselves and now framed her small face. She sat cross-legged on the grass, her knees streaked with dirt, completely oblivious to the world around her.
Her nose was practically buried in a thick book, and the stack of even thicker tomes beside her looked almost comical, given her tiny frame. I watched as she furiously scribbled notes in a small spiral notebook, occasionally pausing to tap the end of her pen against her chin in thought.
Her expression was so intense—eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed—as though she were solving the mysteries of the universe right there in the park.
I was intrigued.
She suddenly let out a small huff of frustration and flicked back a few pages, muttering softly under her breath.
"Ugh! That's not right!" she grumbled, frowning at the book with an expression of genuine betrayal.
I arched a brow in amusement. I'd seen plenty of adults lose their temper over complex magical theories, but seeing a little girl arguing with a textbook was downright entertaining.
"Big disagreement with the book, huh?" I teased lightly.
Her head snapped up. She blinked, eyes wide, clearly startled by my voice.
I offered a small smile, but she just stared at me suspiciously, clutching her notebook close to her chest like I was about to snatch it away. "...What?" she asked cautiously.
I nodded toward the book in her lap. "You were glaring at it pretty hard," I said with a grin. "Did it offend you or something?"
Her lips twitched slightly, as though she wanted to smile but wasn't sure if she trusted me yet.
She cast a quick glance at her book before scowling again.
"No," she muttered indignantly. "It's just wrong." She shoved the book open and pointed to a paragraph with an almost accusatory jab of her finger. "It says that the Sirius Star is the brightest star in the sky, but it's not. Vega has a higher apparent magnitude."
Her eyes narrowed with righteous indignation, and she crossed her arms with a stubborn huff.
I blinked.
I wasn't expecting astronomical facts to be the source of her frustration.
"Hmm," I mused, leaning forward slightly. "Maybe the book meant the brightest star in Earth's night sky? Vega is brighter overall, but Sirius looks brighter to us because it's closer."
Her eyes widened slightly. Her lips parted, and for a brief moment, she just stared at me.
Then she snatched up her notebook and furiously scribbled down my explanation, nodding to herself with a determined glint in her eyes.
I watched in amused silence as she muttered softly under her breath, completely absorbed in her notes. When she finally remembered I existed, she glanced at me again.
"You're smart," she declared matter-of-factly, as if stating an undeniable fact.
I grinned. "So are you."
She beamed at the compliment, clearly pleased, though she tried to play it off by returning to her book. After a brief moment of silence, she glanced at me again, this time with mild curiosity.
"What's your name?" she asked abruptly.
"Harry," I answered easily. I tilted my head slightly. "What's yours?"
She hesitated for half a heartbeat, then straightened her back slightly, clearly deciding she could trust me. "Hermione," she said with a small, confident nod. "Hermione Granger."
I smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Hermione Granger."
She smiled back, but her sharp eyes were already assessing me again. "Do you live around here?" she asked, clearly trying to piece together whether I was local or just visiting.
I shook my head. "Not really. I just… travel a lot."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "Like… for work?" she asked, tilting her head.
I barely suppressed a chuckle at the thought of a five-year-old imagining me with some kind of traveling job. "No," I said with mock seriousness. "Just for fun."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Have you been to Egypt?" she asked suddenly, her voice filled with unmistakable excitement.
I grinned. "Yep."
Her mouth fell open. "Did you see the pyramids? And the Sphinx? And the—"
"—the Valley of the Kings?" I finished with a knowing smile. Her eyes sparkled. "Yes!"
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did you know that some people say the Sphinx was once enchanted to guard a treasure vault?" I said with mock seriousness. Her eyes widened. "Really?" she breathed.
I nodded solemnly, enjoying her wonder. "Mm-hmm. But no one's ever found it."
She practically vibrated with excitement. She shifted closer, practically sitting on her knees now, completely forgetting about her books.
For the next hour, we sat on the grass, swapping stories. She asked question after question—about Egypt, Greece, the Loch Ness monster (which I carefully confirmed was probably real), and whether or not I thought dinosaurs could still be hiding somewhere in the Amazon.
Her insatiable curiosity was both endearing and impressive. She fired off question after question, barely giving me time to answer one before moving on to the next.
Eventually, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the park.
From the distance, I heard a woman's voice call out. "Hermione! It's time to go, dear!"
She turned toward the voice with a slight frown. She looked back at me, clearly torn.
"You'll be here tomorrow, right?" she asked quickly, her brown eyes wide with hope.
I hesitated, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in my chest. I didn't have any plans to return here specifically. But in that moment, I found myself nodding without really knowing why.
"Yeah," I said with a grin. "I'll be here."
Her face lit up with a wide, toothy smile. "Okay! Don't forget!" she called over her shoulder as she ran off toward her parents, her bushy hair bouncing with each step.
I watched her go, feeling oddly… content.
I didn't know then how important this chance meeting would be. I didn't know that the bossy little girl with the bushy hair would one day be one of the most brilliant minds I'd ever meet.
But in that moment, it didn't matter. I was just happy I'd made a new friend.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting gentle hues of gold and pink across the sky, when I opened my eyes. The faint warmth of dawn seeped through the narrow cracks of the cupboard door, thin shafts of light slipping through the gaps and painting faint, jagged patterns on the wooden surface. Dust motes drifted lazily in the still air, catching the morning glow and swirling like tiny golden specks. For a long moment, I simply stared at them, my gaze distant, unblinking.
It had been five years since I was reborn into this life. Five years since I first opened my eyes as Harry James Potter—a frail, helpless infant cradled in the arms of strangers, completely vulnerable. But on the inside? I was no ordinary child.
Beneath the surface of my youthful frame slumbered the incredible soul of Merlin Wyllt. Once the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, whose name alone had shaken kingdoms and commanded reverence, now trapped in the frail shell of a neglected boy. For five long years, I had endured the curse of mortality—the sluggish weakness of a child's body, the aching slowness of growing limbs, the dulled senses. But no longer. The embers of my old magic were stirring, slowly but surely, burning away the shackles of youth with each passing day.
I shifted slightly on my tiny cot, the coarse blanket slipping from my legs. My bare feet pressed against the rough wooden floor, the cold seeping into my skin. The cupboard, barely large enough for a pet, was stifling. The air was thick and stale, carrying the faint scent of damp wood and dust. This was my bedroom, if it could even be called that. A cramped space beneath the stairs—barely fit for storage, let alone a child.
The Dursleys, my so-called relatives, had made it clear early on that I was nothing more than a burden, an inconvenience they were forced to tolerate. My aunt Petunia, with her pinched face and hollow eyes, radiated barely concealed contempt every time she looked at me—a bitter reflection of her jealousy toward my mother. My uncle Vernon, bloated and red-faced, treated me like vermin beneath his shoe—an unwanted pest whose presence was barely worth acknowledging. And then there was Dudley, my cousin—a spoilt, doughy creature who delighted in using me as his personal punching bag.
But I didn't care. Not anymore.
Their cruelty was like raindrops on stone—meaningless, irrelevant. Their pettiness could not touch me, because in the depths of my soul, I was beyond them. Their feeble attempts to belittle me were like mosquito bites on a dragon—forgotten before they even registered.
I leaned back against the cupboard wall and closed my eyes, shutting out the world. Today was the day. The day I had been waiting for. I could feel it—the subtle but insistent hum of magic thrumming in my veins, restless and eager, like a predator awakening from its slumber.
I drew in a slow, deliberate breath, allowing my mind to slip inward, peeling away the trivial thoughts of childhood. I reached into the depths of my soul, plunging past the mortal shell of Harry Potter and into the ancient wellspring of Merlin's magic. It was there—faint but pulsing—a slumbering titan buried beneath layers of youth and mortality. The moment I touched it, a spark ignited.
The faint ember of my old power flared to life, spreading through my veins with molten warmth. My limbs tingled, the magic weaving into my muscles and sinew, strengthening them. My senses sharpened. The rhythmic creak of the old house settling became crystal clear. I could hear Petunia's shallow breathing in the living room, Vernon's faint snoring upstairs, and the soft drip of a leaky faucet somewhere in the kitchen. The dull morning light filtering through the cracks grew sharper, more vivid—the individual grains of dust floating in the beams suddenly distinct and defined.
But I didn't stop there.
I pushed deeper, drawing more power from my core. The faint streams of magic became currents, then rivers, coursing through me with growing intensity. My muscles ached with the strain as I pulled more and more magic into my small, untrained body, forcing it to expand. The pain was sharp, searing through my limbs, but I welcomed it. It meant I was growing stronger.
The magic swelled, rising like a tidal wave, slamming against the walls of my mortal shell. My skin tingled with static, the hair on my arms standing on end. Then, with a sharp crack, golden arcs of lightning flickered between my fingertips, crackling and sparking with untamed power.
The tiny cupboard suddenly felt smaller, as though the very walls were shrinking. The raw energy I was exuding pressed outward, warping the air with its weight. The wooden panels of the cupboard groaned softly, trembling under the pressure. A faint golden mist began to seep from my skin, dancing in the dim light like ethereal flames.
But I wasn't done yet.
I gritted my teeth, narrowing my focus on the pulsing magical core buried deep within my being—the true heart of my power. For years, it had been a mere flicker of light—a faint, guttering flame. But not anymore. With ruthless precision, I plunged my mind into the core, gripping the raw, unrefined essence of my magic. The moment I did, it was like striking a flint against steel.
The core erupted.
A golden storm of raw magic burst forth, racing through my body like wildfire. My limbs quaked with the sudden surge of power, my breath hitching as the magic tore through me. The golden mist that had once clung delicately to my skin exploded outward, filling the cupboard with a brilliant, swirling tempest.
I could feel the magic in every inch of my being—vibrant, alive, and endless. It was no longer a trickle, no longer a mere stream. It was an ocean, boundless and uncontrollable.
I grunted sharply, sweat beading on my brow as I reigned it in, forcing the magic back into myself with sheer willpower. The storm collapsed inward, condensing into a molten sea of power swirling beneath my skin. My breathing slowed, the golden mist fading until only faint arcs of crackling static remained, shimmering across my fingertips.
I slowly opened my eyes. The cupboard was still there—small, unchanged, and silent. But everything was different. The frail, vulnerable boy who had once cowered in the darkness was gone. In his place was a young wizard whose power was beginning to reawaken.
Over the coming months, I trained in secret, refining the newfound strength coursing through my veins. The Dursleys never noticed—too caught up in their petty lives to care. While they ignored me, I grew stronger. I mastered wandless magic, weaving spells with nothing but a flick of my fingers. By the time I was six, I could conjure flames, manipulate water, and bend the wind itself to my will. By seven, I could ward entire sections of the house with spells so potent they made the Dursleys subconsciously avoid me without ever knowing why. By eight, I was already stronger than most adult wizards. By ten, I was nearing the threshold of Grandmaster-level power.
And I was only getting started.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft, silvery glow over the quiet neighborhood of Privet Drive. The stars shimmered faintly, scattered across the velvety darkness. The Dursleys were fast asleep, unaware of the boy who stood silently in the backyard, barefoot in the dewy grass.
I exhaled softly, my breath curling in the cool night air. It was time. Time to return to Camelot.
For the past few months, the pull toward my old domain had grown stronger. The magic I had awakened was no longer content with the cramped confines of my cupboard—it craved space, freedom, and most of all, power. I had reached the limit of what I could achieve while hiding in the shadows of the Muggle world. To reclaim the full might of Merlin Wyllt, I needed to return home.
Slowly, I closed my eyes and reached inward. My magic surged, responding eagerly to the call.I envisioned Camelot—its golden fields, the ancient forests, the gleaming lakes, and the towering spires of my old castle. The bond between me and my kingdom had never faded—it was simply buried beneath time. Now, with a faint whisper of power, I reawakened it.
The world around me blurred and bent. The cool night air was suddenly replaced with a rush of warm, ancient magic, wrapping around me like a familiar cloak. For a heartbeat, time itself seemed to still, and then— I vanished.
The moment my feet touched the ground, I knew I was home.
A gentle breeze rustled through the tall, golden grass, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.The sky was a deep shade of violet, with streaks of fiery orange and rose-pink painting the distant horizon. It was dusk in Camelot, and the entire realm seemed to be holding its breath.
I slowly turned in place, drinking in the sight of the land I hadn't laid eyes on in over a millennium.
The vast plains stretched as far as the eye could see, golden grass swaying with the wind, speckled with clusters of wildflowers in brilliant hues. To the east, I spotted the emerald forest—the home of the Forest Elves, once a people enslaved by cruel masters, until I freed them. Beyond the trees, faint outlines of jagged mountains cut across the skyline—the domain of the Dwarves, their stone halls hidden deep beneath the craggy peaks. And in the far distance, I saw the faint shimmer of the Everlake, its surface glittering beneath the fading sun.
And there, nestled at the heart of the kingdom, stood Camelot's castle. The once-majestic structure was ancient and weathered, but still proud and defiant. The tall, stone towers were draped in ivy, their spires reaching toward the heavens. Faint flickers of blue and gold wards still shimmered faintly around the castle—a testament to the protective enchantments I had once placed.Even after all these years, they still endured, weak but unbroken.
My chest tightened with fierce nostalgia, but I pushed the emotion down. There would be time for sentiment later. For now, I had work to do.
As I wandered through the vast fields, I heard the familiar sound of leathery wings beating the air.I glanced upward just in time to see a massive shadow sweep over me.
A Thunderbird. Its golden feathers shimmered in the dim light, and its sharp eyes gleamed with curiosity. The majestic creature circled overhead, releasing a faint crackle of lightning as it glided effortlessly through the sky. For a brief moment, our eyes met—and it recognized me. The beast let out a low, musical cry before soaring toward the distant peaks.
A small smile tugged at my lips. The magical beasts of Camelot had always been loyal, and clearly, they had not forgotten me.
I crossed the plains, making my way toward the emerald forest. The familiar scent of pine and oak filled the air, and soft beams of light filtered through the dense canopy. The moment I set foot in the forest, a faint ripple of magic swept over the land. It was ancient and wild—the magic of the Forest Elves. I had once freed them from slavery, offering them a peaceful life in exchange for their stewardship of Camelot's creatures.
Before long, three figures emerged from the trees.
They were tall and elegant, with lithe, graceful forms and ethereal beauty. Their pointed ears peeked through their silvery hair, and their emerald eyes shimmered with magic. They wore leaf-woven cloaks, blending with the forest like shadows.
One of them, a female elf with honey-colored hair, took a tentative step forward. Her eyes widened slightly, feeling the intensity of the magic radiating from me. Her voice was soft but firm.
"You carry magic more potent than any one your age I have ever seen," she whispered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How did you enter this dimension that was warded by the strongest of them all?"
I met her gaze steadily, allowing a fraction of my power to rise to the surface. The air shimmered faintly, a golden mist drifting around me. Their eyes widened in unison, their hands dropping from the hilts of their blades. The wards placed on the dimension glowed and suddenly a mythical staff appeared in front of me.
"Merlin…" the male elf breathed in awe. "You are alive!!"
The elves slowly knelt, their heads bowed in reverence. I felt a faint pang of sorrow at their display—I had never wanted worship, only peace for them.
But I didn't correct them. They had been doing this for generations and wouldn't listen to me even if I told them.
I spent the next several years in Camelot, training relentlessly.
The Forest Elves welcomed me with open arms, guiding me through the ancient paths of the enchanted forest. The Dwarves returned from the mountains, reforging the arcane weapons and relics I had once wielded. The beasts of Camelot emerged from their lairs, drawn by the presence of their ancient master. The Thunderbird, the Nundu, and even the mighty Hydra bent their heads in recognition of the power that once ruled this land.
I pushed myself daily, testing the limits of my magic. At seven years old, I was already more powerful than most adult wizards. By eight, I could summon storms, shape fire with a gesture, and bend the winds to my will. By nine, I could split the earth with raw power, conjure shields strong enough to repel dragon fire, and weave illusions that could fool even the sharpest eyes. By ten, I had finally crossed into the Grandmaster level, wielding magic that could rewrite reality itself.
But I wasn't done yet.
Even as my power grew, I knew it was only the beginning. The path to Demi-God level still stretched far beyond me—a chasm I had yet to cross. But I was patient. After all, I had all the time in the world.
And when the time came for me to step into the wizarding world, I would do so as the second coming of Merlin.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Anyways, let me know what you all think.
Remember spread Love, not Hate.
With that Author-Kun is signing off.