After that stormy night, Harris Wells changed.
He still looked like the same quiet, silver-eyed boy of Elderfield but behind those eyes now swirled memories, knowledge, and understanding that no child should have. As the days passed, those memories sharpened, falling into place like puzzle pieces locking in.
He remembered his old world, the one without magic, full of machines and screens. He remembered books… especially one series in particular.
Harry Potter.
He hadn't just read it, he had studied it, loved it, obsessed over it. He remembered the rules of magic, the storylines, the characters, the dangers, and the gaps. He knew who would live… and who wouldn't.
And now, in this world, all of it was real.
But that wasn't all.
As the memories returned, something else awakened within him gifts that came with his reincarnation. Buffs. Perks. Blessings.
Eidetic Memory
It started when he picked up a book from his foster father's dusty shelf. An old gardening manual.
He flipped through it once, slowly, carefully.
Hours later, he could recite every single page, word for word. Even the page numbers. And not just recall, he could see them in his mind, clear as if they were right in front of him.
"Photographic memory," he whispered. "No... eidetic memory. I don't forget anything now."
It wasn't just reading. Sounds. Smells. Faces. All of them were locked into place permanently.
Genius-Level Magical Potential
The next realization came a week later.
He took the smooth stick his mock "wand" and tried again.
"Lumos."
This time, the tip flared bright like a tiny sun. He had no wand core, no training, and no magical focus… but it still worked. Barely.
Then he tried Wingardium Leviosa on a rock. The rock shivered, twitched… then floated a few inches before dropping.
"Impossible…" he muttered, grinning like a madman. "I'm eight. No wand. No schooling. But I can already cast first-year spells?"
Not just cast them, he could feel how they worked. The flow of magic through imaginary lines in his body, magical circuits and the way each word shaped that energy. It was like programming reality with words and willpower.
His magical instincts were unnatural.
"Like a magical prodigy," he whispered. "No… even more than that."
But Then — The Weakness
With all these gifts, came a price.
The first sign was headaches. Every time he used magic for too long, it felt like a fire lit behind his eyes. His nose bled once when he levitated two things at once.
The second sign was worse: nightmares.
Memories of both his past life and this one began to blur. Some nights, he'd wake up confused, not knowing which world he was in. He'd forget his foster parents' names, or think he was in school again, back on Earth.
And then came the whispers.
Voices at the edge of hearing. Calling his name.
He didn't know if they were magical side effects… or something else.
Still, Harris refused to stop.
He finally understood: he had a head start, a second chance, and power most kids could only dream of.
But the world of magic? It was dangerous.
He couldn't walk into it blindly.
He needed to prepare.
He needed to train in secret.
He needed to rewrite his fate.