Your boy is a magic boy!
After that fiasco of accidental magic, where I levitated the snacks from the kitchen directly in front of me, my life changed.
The worries weren't so crushing anymore; my parents also seemed to be in a happier mood than usual. I think they could tell, that my mind was more often than not occupied, with what they never knew. Now the worries had lifted, and I focused more on the kids' stuff.
Things like preparing to go to school by reading and writing alongside my mother, so I would be ready when I had to do it in class.
I already knew all of this, of course, I did live another life until I was twenty-five. I did it anyway, without complaining, without slacking off. It soothed the worries of my angel of a mother, and for that, I would be more than willing to spend a couple of hours a day on tedious stuff.
Her focus and worries shifted as I grew older and the years passed by. Now that she knew of my academic excellence, which was just reading and writing at a higher level than kids my age, she started to worry about my social skills.
To be honest, I too worried about my own social skills.
After I turned five, I was admitted to Hallfield Primary School, thanks to my father's somewhat deep pockets. According to my parents' research, it's the best school close to where we live, in the outer area of the City of Westminster, London.
It wasn't anywhere close on the scale of a places like Eton, but it definitely had its own charm.
The place was great, and the teachers were kind. We are mostly taught to read and write, and we are also taught maths. All of this wasn't any issue for me; the problem is the kids themselves.
I wasn't able to connect with anyone and didn't make any friends, which quickly became a cause of concern for my parents.
They worried about my own social skills, and so was I.
Learning how to interact with others is essential, and learning how to make and stay friends is even more so. I could hold a conversation and share my thoughts clearly without any issues, but that wasn't the issue.
The problem was I didn't have a single person my age I could share my thoughts with. All the kids my age were focused on toys and some other complete nonsense that I had no interest in.
I tried to follow along and pretend to be interested in whatever topics the kids were discussing that day, but I quickly lost interest and became disconnected from them.
Unfortunately, the skill to plug myself into any group didn't transfer from my previous life. The culture of UK kids is entirely different from that of US kids. The fact that I am currently in a different era than when I previously grew up also doesn't help.
Of course, knowing that I would be leaving for Hogwarts strongly discouraged me from putting much effort into making friends with my classmates. It is an effort I don't think I want or need to focus on much.
So my school life has boiled down to academics, learning how they speak and write here in England, which is fun. I never thought I would have a British accent.
Math, my nemesis, seems universal.
Unlike my parents. I wasn't sad about not making friends. In fact, I am happier than I have ever been, except for a few occasions in my previous life.
I can say with certainty that I have never been more joyful and elated in this life than I have been these last couple of months. All of my thoughts and focus are preoccupied solely on magic ever since I had my first bout of accidental magic.
I had magic after all!
I did what any self-respecting nerd would do if they were in my position. I spent most of my days trying to recreate the magic I performed.
From what my mother told me when I asked her what happened that day, it started with me breathing heaving and in rapid bursts. She told me she called my name a couple of times to get my attention. After not hearing any response from me, she said she was just about to pick me up and turn me around to get a better look.
She continued to say, that's when the bowl of snacks she put on the kitchen counter hurdled towards me and stopped right in front of me, without spilling any of its contents.
She later joked, asking if I was so hungry that I would do such specific accidental magic. She then regaled me with stories of other children's accidental magic. They ranged from flickering light bulbs to items being pushed and pulled. She said she had never heard of such precise accidental magic.
I chuckled and thought to myself. 'Wait until you hear Harry Potter's feats, the kid apparated.'
From what I have been able to gather, I did three different spells that day.
The first is a variant of 'Accio' to call the bowl towards me. The second spell resembles 'Arresto Momentum', used to completely stop the bowl in front of me and not spill any of its content. Finally, the third spell, something similar to 'Levioso', to hold up the bowl and hover it in place.
I am sure the sound of the bowl breaking as it fell to the ground happened because I shifted my attention to my mother after hearing her call and shake me. It looks like continuous and clear thought is required to do magic properly.
My days passed by in a blur as I attempted to do magic again. The GI Joe toy proved itself to be my fiercest enemy.
I primarily focused on the emotional aspect of accidental magic, as I still didn't have any idea of how to use 'Will and Intent' with magic. I was too deep in my thoughts to pay any attention to anything else at the time of my first accidental magic.
I tried to use the desperation and the fear I felt at the time of my accidental magic to make the toy levitate or even pull it forward. I tried to think the same thoughts that were in my mind when I did the magic. I tried to recreate the feeling of desperation and fear to fuel my magic.
Alas, emotions are not so easily fooled. I couldn't bring myself to believe in my dark emotions once I knew I could do magic.
I wasn't like Tom Riddle, who was bullied, or like Harry Potter, who was starved and hunted by his cousin.
I already had the knowledge that once it was confirmed that I had magic, I would be going to Hogwarts regardless, where I could learn all the magic I wanted.
And while I was very desperate to do some more magic, it was never to the point of me thinking that my life depended on it.
I was simply too happy being a magical boy, and having that knowledge from another life actually proved to be disadvantageous for once.
This went on for a couple of months. I worked on it day after day, while patience might not be my strong suit, I didn't falter even once. I attempted magic every single day without failure.
How could I stop when I know for a fact that magic exists and I am a wizard?