"𝘏𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵."
~𝘈𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘴 𝘋𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
-

Hilary swallowed thickly as he read aloud the letter to himself, unconsciously nibbling his fleshy inner cheek. For the second time this month, the fifteen year old felt his heart skipping erratic beats.

"Dear Mr Raine, as you already know; you're a valued prodigy in manipulation. However, you have begun to lose yourself, and due to the recent events that took place; we have reconsidered your place at Durmstrang. You are permanently expelled from this school..."

He gripped the frail letter tightly, his amaranth lips dipping into a slight frown.

"Shit. I saw this coming, but those airheads are acting as if I'm going to detonate."

He drew in a deep breath, and expelled a shaky one, squeezing his eyes shut to anchor himself and prevent any reckless actions.

Maybe this is best. He reflected, reopening his eyes, and gazing at the crackling fireplace that spat at the crimson armchair he was leaning against.

Maybe I can start over.

But I haven't even finished with my work. A nagging voice in his mind complained.

It almost seemed unacceptable to kick him out. Hilary was a seemingly well-behaved student, a potent prodigy that was brimming to the top with potential; he most certainly wasn't shy either and was rather cunning for his age.

However, his ability to manipulate seemed to be like heavy chains, weighing him down and acting more like a curse than a blessing.

Durmstrang had expelled Hilary just as he was learning to fully harness and control his unique ability again.

He improved much through hours of training and practice that left him exhausted, yet he still managed to commit a grave mistake that affected both his academic and private life.

When he thought things couldn't possibly get worse, they did; Hilary realised he was practically following the footsteps of his god damned father he despised so much.

Hilary continued reading almost hesitantly.

"We have contacted an affiliate of ours, and they have decided to take you in as a student. During your time at Hogwarts, you are to train yourself and learn to manage your power.

There will be an inspection at the end of your fifth year. You will be contained further until you are in control if you have failed to do as required."

Hogwarts. Simply thinking of attending a different school made the hairs on his neck bristle. He recognised the name, his mother, Glinda, attended when she was a young witch.

Hilary had heeded many stories of Hogwarts from his mother. It didn't seem too bad, and it had a good reputation for academic and quidditch reasons. He was told of the students that had gone in clueless and come out experienced, and of those that represented the school well.

He was also informed of the other, unpleasant stories.

Like the story of this young boy, Micah, who had wandered into the forbidden forest and returned traumatised. Or that previous transfiguration professor, Malissa Carbine, who was mauled to near-death by a lion that was once a spoon.

It made his skin prickle, just thinking about those tales, thinking about how it could happen to him.

The quiet click of the mahogany door instantly drew Hilary out of his displeasing thoughts, a familiar figure shaking off snow from her ebony hair as she stepped into the warmth of the living room.

"Hey, mum." The teen greeted his mother with a faint wistful smile.

"Hey bub, just came back from Diagon Alley." Glinda held up a straw basket filled with a pair of oil black robes and bulky school books Hilary didn't already have in his large bookshelf.

"Got your stuff for Hogwarts."

The smile quickly died.

"So, you know I got expelled?" His mother nodded, shrugging off her thick woollen coat and sighing as she felt her numb fingers thawing in the heat of the fire.

"Aren't you angry, disappointed?"

Glinda shook her head and deposited the items on the little wooden table, which groaned under the sudden weight.

"I would never be disappointed in you, Hilary. What happened was out of your control; you were provoked."

"But it wasn't out of my control, if I tried harder it may have never happened. My little brother, your son isn't here anymore because of me; I should be rotting in Azkaban." Hilary quickly clenched his fists and glued his eyes to his knees, his fingernails biting into his pale palms.

Glinda put a gentle hand on her shoulder, sympathetically looking into his glossy orbs. Her son was having trouble seeing past the destructive nature of his ability.

"But you were given a second chance, so use it well. People are capable of change and so are you. Now, let's go pack your things. We both know that the train is leaving early tomorrow."

Hilary nodded slowly.

"I've contacted the school about dorms, but this year they're going to be packed; so don't be too surprised if you're placed in the girl's dorms. I'll be down here, making dinner. If you need any help, just shout, okay?"

He replied with a quiet 'okay' and retreated to his room upstairs.

Once he closed the toffee coloured door, Hilary stood almost mindlessly for a moment before he leaned up against it and slid down miserably.

"What shitty mess have I plunged into?"

-

Ten years ago

"Mum! Mum! I want to show you something!" Five-year-old Hilary beckoned his mother jovially, bounding like an overexcited puppy.

The pair were enjoying a picnic outside in the brisk Autumn breeze, vibrant shades of warm colours enclosing them; a wide blanket of swirling whites and cerulean pulled over the sky.

Young Hilary had leapt over to his mother with a snapped twig in hand, presenting it as if it were a trophy.

"Look what I did!"

Glinda grinned, positively amused by her son's usual excitement; fastening her attention on the toddler.

"Did you snap that?" He nodded frantically, pushing the wood into his mother's half-open hands.

"With my mind!" The woman accepted the twig with a chuckle.

"I'm sure you did bub, now come and eat your sandwich before the owls do."

"No, I really did! See?" Hilary picked up a nearby stick that was relatively thicker than the twig, clumsily placing it on the chequered black and blue mat.

He crouched down and stared at it intently, like it had eaten his slice of cake (no one touches his slice of cake), with nothing noteworthy or out of the ordinary occurring.

"Sometimes, Hilary; our minds can be both a brilliant and deceiving thing. You have a great sense of imaginatio-"

Snap.

Glinda looked down to see the stick in splinters, shocked, she shifted her gaze up to see her son grinning widely like the Cheshire cat.

"I told you, mum! I told you I could break it with my mind!"

But how? It most certainly wasn't magic, he doesn't even have a wand yet!

"Bub, look me in the eye - no higher - and tell me how you did that."

Hilary pouted cutely as he thought, tapping his chin like those adults in the movie did when they were thinking.

He suddenly crossed his eyes, beaming as he wobbled sideways and prodded his temples, giggling like the child Hilary was.

"With my mind."

Glinda gently heaved the giggling Hilary into her lap, tenderly stroking his short silky hair as she whispered into his ear.

"You're going to grow up to be a formidable wizard."