"The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper." — W.B. Yeats
Regulus POV
It was truly an eye-opening experience to see someone use magic up close—other than house-elves. Sure, my family used them, but they used magic only for convenience. Mr Carrow, however, explained every action behind his magic.
I was given the task of memorising some common spells and their wand movements. This was where my gift was truly utilised. It turns out I possess a photographic memory.
I had read many fanfictions where the main character possesses a photographic memory and recalls everything effortlessly. For me, it is slightly different. It leans more towards an eidetic memory, where I can store information perfectly, but only when I concentrate. Other times, my memory operates the same as everyone else's. It is not instantaneous; in fact, the storage process is a bit slow. However, with practice, I found I could concentrate faster to record and recall information.
It did not stop with the mind; it influenced the body as well. Once I memorised the information, I could replicate the hand movements perfectly. Surely, it was a blessing of psychomotor skills—not exaggeratedly god-like, but certainly within the scope of a prodigy.
I finished the book Common Spells Everyday: Household Chores I. When I asked my teacher about the book, he replied, "Household spells can be more useful in learning the fundamentals of magic than diving straight into advanced ones."
I realised now that these were the spells Kreacher had been using all along. I passed the test absolutely. What test? The assessment Mr Carrow conducted to gauge my learning capacity, of course.
It has been a week since my first lesson, and I have already finished Common Spells Everyday: Household Chores II and III. There are almost a hundred spells noted in those books, along with their intricate wand movements.
I had been moving my hands during the learning process, though nothing happened. It was not as if I expected anything to happen, as I had not yet undergone the baptism by magic—the magical outburst. Before, I could just sense magic, too afraid to disturb it, merely observing. Now, I could play with it and manipulate it.
Everyone casts magic, but I doubt they sense the whole process. They just believe the magic to be there, trusting it to happen with the right wand movement. I, however, could sense magic as a river. I could dip my hand into it or move along with the current. The hand movement inside that river, combined with the wand, is what makes a spell effective. I sensed all of this simply by watching my teacher perform.
I still did not attempt to utter the incantations while moving the tides of the river in the air. For one reason, I was too young. There would be consequences if I were impatient. Two, I did not have any damn privacy. I was constantly watched here; a simple movement of magic near me would be noticed immediately. So, I just played with the magic in the air—practice which I knew would surely be useful when I was finally allowed to perform spells.
…
Two Years Later (1966)
I was now five years old. I had finished the curriculum the teacher was supposed to teach over four years in just two.
Sirius started his lessons alongside me, but he was damn impatient, making Mr Carrow curse the entire time. Carrow guided me, but with Sirius, he practically had to drill things into his mind.
I had finished my etiquette lessons, except for the dancing portion; I was simply too short to perform properly with my teacher. I had also finished memorising the family genealogy of the entire Sacred Twenty-Eight.
It was quite interesting. There was a common misconception that every family had to marry a Muggle at some point in time—either due to running out of witches to marry or during the witch hunts of the 15th and 16th centuries. However, there was no evidence in our records to prove that.
Some might indeed have married Muggles at some point, but they were removed from the family tree, excluded from the tapestry. Their names were struck out. A family's tapestry is sacred and generally not for the eyes of outsiders. My father took on the burden of teaching me this personally. With my memory now almost perfect, it was not much of a burden for him, except for my constant questions regarding their achievements.
In my two years of study, I found that meditation helped ease the process of focusing on knowledge from books. Once I understood or stored something in my mind, I could not forget the information unless I chose to 'delete' it. It was very convenient, allowing me to almost instantly record information when focused—surely an improvement from the first time I accessed the ability.
Mr Carrow almost started my Occlumency training after I finished magical theory. He was tempted to teach me, but he refrained at the last moment due to my grandfather's condition: I was still too young and had not yet had my magical outburst.
Speaking of which, Sirius recently had his first magical outburst. He has been smug about it ever since.
The good news was that I sensed it even before he did. Two days before his outburst, I sensed that the river of magic flowing inside the home had developed a new anchor point.
These anchor points are the people around me. The strongest anchor point—like a massive boulder in the river—is my grandfather. My grandmother is the second strongest. Others are much smaller rocks. Bellatrix, for example, is like a pebble at the bottom of the river.
Sirius became an anchor point without causing significant ripples initially. For two days, he stayed in that state. Then, on the morning of the third day, the pebble that had been drifting in the river started sinking, settling at the bottom. At that exact moment, his magic burst out.
I realised I could technically trigger my magical outburst myself now. But it would be weaker than a natural one. So, I decided to let time run its course.