I hope to create an entire Series based on this.
This is Book 1 of hopefully a Four book Series.
This will be possible if you like the book and support it.
If by the time we reach 50 chapters, we reach the top 20 in various rankings, then I will confirm the Second book.
Hope you all like this. Do support.
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The Prince manor was quiet at night. Edmund had learned to appreciate the silence—the way the old stones settled, the whisper of wind through the thistle garden, the soft rustle of Perseus shifting on her perch. It was the kind of quiet that let a mind wander.
His mind had been wandering a great deal since Diagon Alley.
He lay in the vast four-poster bed, the hawthorn wand on the nightstand beside him, and stared at the shadowed ceiling. The events of the day played on loop: the cobblestones slick with rain, the horse-drawn carriages, the children in their formal robes, Sebastian Greengrass's casual bigotry, Arthur Merrythought's open enthusiasm. But beneath the surface memories, something else was gnawing at him. Something that had bothered him for years, in his old life, and had only grown sharper now that he was living inside the world he had once only read about.
*How many students were at Hogwarts?*
He had done the math before, many times, on forums and in his own head. In the books, Harry's year had around forty students—ten or so in Gryffindor, similar numbers in the other houses. Multiply by seven, and Hogwarts held roughly two hundred and eighty students at any given time. Even allowing for the wartime dip in birth rates during Voldemort's first rise, the numbers never climbed much higher in the accounts he had read. Some fans estimated three hundred, maybe four hundred at the absolute peak.
But the wizarding world in the books was vast. The Ministry of Magic employed hundreds of witches and wizards across its departments. The Quidditch World Cup in *Goblet of Fire* drew a crowd of a hundred thousand—wizards from all over the globe, yes, but a significant contingent from Britain alone. The final battle of Hogwarts had seen hundreds of Death Eaters, Ministry workers, Hogwarts staff, Order members, and residents of Hogsmeade all converging on the castle. Hundreds of named characters, and countless unnamed.
Where had all these people gone to school?
---
Edmund sat up, reaching for the journal he had hidden in the wardrobe. The system icon pulsed faintly in his vision, but it was a soft, unobtrusive presence—nothing like the urgent flashing he had half-expected. When he summoned it, the interface appeared as it always did: calm, patient, waiting.
**PROFILE**
**Name:** Edmund Alistair Prince
**Age:** 10
**Level:** 1
**XP:** 0 / 100
**Title:** Last Heir
**SKILLS:**
Charms: Novice (2%)
Transfiguration: Novice (1%)
Potions: Novice (3%)
Warding: Locked
**ACTIVE TASKS:**
*First Steps* – Prepare for Hogwarts (Long-term objective)
Task 1: Acquire a wand (Complete)
Task 2: Practice basic spells (0/3)
Task 3: Read at least three first-year textbooks before term (0/3)
No flashing warnings. No impossible quests. The system was not pushing him into the Highlands or demanding he interview professors. It was giving him a simple, achievable list: practice spells, read books, get ready for school.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. This was manageable. This was something a ten-year-old could do.
---
The days that followed fell into a rhythm.
He woke with the dawn, ate a breakfast of bread and jam that Mrs. Larch left for him, and spent the morning reading. The Prince library was small, but it was all he had, and he worked through it methodically. He started with *A History of Magic* by Bathilda Bagshot, because it was familiar and because he wanted to see how it compared to the version he remembered. The answer: it was denser, drier, and filled with details the schoolbooks had left out. The goblin rebellions took up three chapters. The founding of Hogwarts was covered in four pages.
In the afternoons, he practiced spells in the garden. The thistles had died back with the frost, leaving a muddy expanse of brown and grey, but there was room enough to work. He cast *Lumos* until the light held steady without flickering. He cast *Reparo* on broken flowerpots until the cracks vanished cleanly. He cast *Wingardium Leviosa* on stones and branches and, once, on a startled frog that had emerged from beneath a log. The frog levitated for a full thirty seconds before dropping with a splash into a puddle. It seemed unharmed. Edmund counted it as progress.
The system tracked his efforts quietly.
**Skill Progress:**
Charms: Novice (6%)
Transfiguration: Novice (2%)
Potions: Novice (4%)
Task 2: Practice basic spells – 1/3 spells mastered (*Lumos*)
---
He was on his third week of practice when the system pinged again, this time with a new notification.
**Daily Task Available**
Practice *Reparo* for 30 minutes.
*Reward: +5 XP*
Edmund blinked. A daily task. Small, manageable, something he could do without leaving the manor. He spent half an hour mending flowerpots, and when he finished, the XP appeared in his profile.
**XP:** 5 / 100
It was a tiny amount. Five points out of a hundred just to reach Level 2. But it was something. A reminder that progress came in small steps, not giant leaps.
He could work with that.
---
He wrote to Arthur Merrythought. Not about grand plans or hidden valleys, but about the things that mattered to two boys preparing for their first year at Hogwarts.
*Arthur,*
*I've been practicing* Wingardium Leviosa *and it keeps dropping things. Any advice? Also, have you started reading the textbooks?* A History of Magic *is putting me to sleep.*
*—Edmund*
Arthur's response came a week later, written in his usual sprawling hand.
*Edmund,*
*For* Wingardium Leviosa*, the trick is the swish. Grandmother says most people focus too much on the flick and not enough on the swish. The wand movement is what shapes the magic. If you're dropping things, your swish is probably too fast. Slow it down and really feel the shape of it.*
*I've read the first three chapters of* A History of Magic*. It gets better after the goblin rebellions, I promise. Or at least, there are more battles. Grandmother says the important thing is to remember that history is written by the winners, so you should always read at least two accounts of any major event. She's lending me a book about the goblin perspective. It's called* The Other Side of the Coin*. I'll let you know if it's any good.*
*See you on the train!*
*Arthur*
---
Edmund smiled. Then he went outside and tried the spell again.
He slowed his wand movement, focusing on the shape of the swish, the arc of the magic lifting the stone. The stone rose—wavered—and held.
It only lasted ten seconds before dropping, but it was better than before. He tried again. Twelve seconds. Again. Fifteen.
The system pinged softly.
**Charms skill increased: Novice (8%)**
Small steps.
---
That evening, after Mrs. Larch had gone home and the manor had settled into its usual silence, Edmund sat in the library with a fresh cup of tea and a new book: *Magical Theory* by Adalbert Waffling. It was dense, full of concepts he only half understood, but there was a section on magical development that caught his attention.
*Magical ability in a witch or wizard is not static. It grows with the practitioner, much like a muscle grows with use. A first-year student at Hogwarts typically possesses enough magical capacity to perform simple charms and transfigurations, but complex magic—such as human transfiguration or powerful protective wards—requires years of training and practice to develop both the skill and the underlying magical strength.*
*The average adult witch or wizard, after completing their education, reaches a plateau of ability that serves them well for the rest of their lives. Only a small percentage continue to grow beyond this point, and those who do are typically involved in professions that demand constant magical innovation—curse-breaking, magical research, or, in rare cases, dueling at the highest levels.*
He read the passage twice. It made sense. Magical ability was not something you were born with at a fixed level; it was something you built over time. A first-year was weak not because they lacked potential, but because they hadn't yet done the work.
He thought about the system's leveling system. Level 1, with 100 XP to reach Level 2. That was where he was now. Where did that put him compared to others?
He had no way to know. The system didn't offer comparisons, and he was too new to this world to guess. But he could imagine. A first-year from a magical family, with a year or two of informal training from parents or tutors, might be a few steps ahead of him. A top student in their O.W.L. year would be far beyond that. A professor, someone who had been practicing magic for decades, would be on a completely different scale.
And Dumbledore? Grindelwald? He didn't even want to think about that gap. It was too wide, too far in the future.
He closed the book and added it to his mental list of things to revisit later. For now, the only level that mattered was his own.
---
**Daily Task Completed:** Practice *Wingardium Leviosa* (3 days in a row)
*Bonus: +10 XP*
**XP:** 45 / 100
He was getting there. Slowly.
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