The strange child

1991, London, England.

True to its name as the city of fog, the whole city lay shrouded in mist, with little sunlight in the gray sky.

Professor Filius Flitwick stood before a house, checking the address on the parchment in his hand.

As Hogwarts' Charms professor and head of Ravenclaw, guiding young wizards from Muggle families through enrollment was part of his annual routine—a task that was sometimes delightful and sometimes a headache.

Will Behrens, Professor Flitwick repeated silently, knocking on the door.

No one answered.

He knocked three more times. Still nothing.

Flitwick frowned, then heard a soft click from the lock—the door had opened by itself.

There was no one behind it.

"Please come in," a boy's calm voice called from deep inside the house.

Flitwick stepped over the threshold. The house was small but exceptionally tidy, its slightly dated furniture spotless. Several framed photographs hung on the living room wall, showing a beautiful woman and a boy whose expression was rather cold, even vacant.

A thick, leather-bound book lay open on the coffee table in the center of the living room, beside a stack of more than a dozen books that had clearly been read over and over.

His eyes swept over their spines—Herbology Analysis, Potions Pharmacology: An Introduction, Principles of Transfiguration—and his eyebrows climbed higher and higher.

Here was a promising Ravenclaw!

"Hello." The voice came from the kitchen.

Professor Flitwick followed it and found its owner: a thin boy with an almost sickly pale face and neatly trimmed black hair, standing at the stove and looking back at him.

"I'm sorry, my hands are full with the cooking. You'll have to wait a moment."

The boy's eyes were an unusual silver-gray, making them seem cold and devoid of warmth.

Whatever he was cooking smelled delicious, though. Professor Flitwick caught the aroma and even felt his appetite stir—he had not eaten lunch either.

Hmm, a promising Hufflepuff, too, Professor Flitwick thought as he watched Will work methodically in the kitchen.

"Mr. Berens?" Flitwick asked.

"That's me." The boy turned around and wiped his hands on a cloth, his expression far too composed for a child from a Muggle family. "Please sit down, Professor. The food and tea will be ready shortly."

Professor Flitwick sat at the table, his mind racing.

The records said this child was Muggle-born, but nothing before him resembled a family that "knew nothing about magic." Those books clearly came from the wizarding world, and some even covered advanced material.

Professor Flitwick frowned. Something was wrong here. Had this child come into contact with a wizard who disregarded the rules?

A few minutes later, Will emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates.

"Child," Flitwick began, choosing his words carefully, "are any of your relatives wizards?"

"Er, as far as I know, none of my family are wizards." Will set a plate before Professor Flitwick. "Please help yourself, Professor."

Professor Flitwick glanced down. The plate held steaming pasta, beautifully presented.

He failed to notice the subtle expression on Will's face. Will had not lied, but he had left certain things out. His mother had not been a witch, yet he had found an old wand at home. Moreover, he had never met his father, so anything concerning him fell outside "as far as I know."

Unsure what to say, Professor Flitwick took a bite of pasta. "This is delicious. I can hardly believe a child made it."

"Thank you, Professor." Will headed back toward the kitchen. "I started cooking at a very young age."

Professor Flitwick felt a pang of sympathy and changed the subject. "Then, these books of yours... where did you get them?"

Will set a cup of black tea before Flitwick and sat down opposite him.

"I bought them," Will said. "In Diagon Alley."

Flitwick nearly spat out the tea he had just drunk.

"Diagon Alley?!" His voice shot up an octave. "How did you—"

"I found my own way there. Through the Leaky Cauldron."

Professor Flitwick opened his mouth, momentarily at a loss as to where to begin scolding this child.

A young Muggle-born wizard, without anyone to guide him, had not only found the Leaky Cauldron but also slipped into Diagon Alley and even found his way into Knockturn Alley. This already fell squarely into the realm of recklessness.

Professor Flitwick thought this child might well end up in Gryffindor.

"How did you first come into contact with the wizarding world?" Flitwick forced himself to calm down.

Will took a sip of tea. "Two and a half years ago, when my mother was still alive."

"She drank heavily," he said. "Sometimes she locked me in the storage cupboard. Once, I cried so hard in there that the light bulbs exploded. All of them. Even the house's circuit breaker tripped."

Flitwick's expression froze.

"After that, I started noticing a lot of things were different," Will continued. "Whenever I was angry or sad, something would happen. Then one day, I saw a pub on a London street that everyone else seemed to ignore."

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Flitwick asked.

"The Leaky Cauldron." Will nodded. "I went inside and found all sorts of strange people. I spent some time watching them and listening to them talk, and worked out that magic existed."

Professor Flitwick remained silent for a long time.

He had taught at Hogwarts for decades and seen young wizards of every kind—reckless children who acted on sudden impulses, geniuses of extraordinary intelligence, mischievous troublemakers. He had thought young wizards could no longer surprise him.

But he had never seen an eleven-year-old Muggle-born child find the magical world entirely on his own like this.

After a long silence, Professor Flitwick recalled what Will had just said and ventured, "Your mother..."

"She died two years ago," Will said. "She was disoriented from drinking and walked through a red light."

His tone was flat, but Flitwick felt his heart clench. To him, Will seemed to have suffered so much grief that he had shut down emotionally.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and decided to sidestep the painful subject for now. Such matters would take time. "Now, about your enrollment—we need to go to Diagon Alley to buy your supplies. A wand, school robes, a Cauldron, textbooks..."

"I've bought a wand," Will said.

Flitwick's eyebrows rose again.

Will brought out a dark brown wand and handed it to Flitwick. "Acacia Wood, phoenix feather, twelve and a quarter inches. I bought it from Mr. Ollivander."

"Ollivander sold you a wand?" Flitwick asked incredulously. "Without a Hogwarts professor accompanying you?"

"He said I was 'one of the most interesting customers' he'd ever met," Will said.

Professor Flitwick gazed at the thin boy before him, filled with conflicting emotions. He had expected today's work to be just like every other year: explaining the existence of Owls and Broomsticks to a family that knew nothing about magic. All he had needed to do was follow the usual procedure and introduce this child to the wizarding world.

Instead, Will had completely upset his plans.

"Then," Flitwick said, "what about textbooks and school robes?"

"I've bought them all," Will said. "The textbooks are brand-new, from Flourish and Blotts. I ordered the robes from Madam Malkin and picked them up last week."

"...A Cauldron? Scales? A telescope?"

"I have all of them."

Professor Flitwick discovered that this child had already done every part of his job as the professor assigned to guide him.

"Very well, child." At last, he sighed. "It seems there isn't much you need me to do."

Will looked at him, and something seemed to flicker faintly in his silver-gray eyes.

"There is one thing," he said.

"What is it?"

"Professor, I actually have a lot of questions about spells. Why do the books only mention the wand movements and pronunciation? I want to know their underlying logic, and what lies at the heart of those movements and sounds."

For the first time in all his years of teaching, Professor Flitwick spent an entire afternoon outside school delivering an uninterrupted lesson to a young Wizard who had not yet enrolled.

Will studied earnestly and seemed to grow happier the more he learned. Professor Flitwick was surprised by his reaction; after all, he had no idea what Will was gaining.

[You have gained new knowledge of spells. Charms experience +1]

[You have gained new knowledge of spells. Charms experience +1]

[You have gained new knowledge of spells. Charms experience +1]

"Child, at first, I thought you might go to Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw. I even considered Hufflepuff. But now I'm certain you'll be in Ravenclaw." Professor Flitwick found the boy's thirst for knowledge astonishing, matched by a quick mind and wide-ranging interests.

Will had practically memorized all the basic Charms theory. He had a firm grasp not only of the first-year material but of the second-year content as well, and his practical work was impressive too.

Flitwick also considered the child's magical talent exceptional. At that age, he certainly had not reached Will's level.

At the same time, he was relieved that the boy had not yet come into contact with dark magic.

In his memory, children with such a thirst for knowledge had all come from Ravenclaw, and the vast majority had gone on to become excellent Wizards.

He could see that Will was the same. The boy was bound to accomplish great things.

Although Will clearly still had questions for him, it was time to leave. As head of Ravenclaw, he was quite busy. "Child, once you're at Hogwarts, you can come to me with questions at any time. I'll do everything I can to help you."

"All right, Professor Flitwick. I'll see you when term starts." Will was clearly reluctant to see him go. After all, the experience gains were very real.

Flitwick felt a pang of sympathy. It was hard to accept that such a young child lived all alone, and it was only natural for him to crave company. Still, Flitwick knew he could not care for the boy forever. Once Will arrived at Hogwarts, he would give him extra attention.

Flitwick resolved that, whichever house this child joined, he would ask the other professors to look out for him. Most importantly, he must not let him stray down the wrong path.

[Note: Half-blood wizard, with German wizarding ancestry]