Ch.1: Prologue: The Miracle Eyes
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- Mumbai, Maharashtra, India -
- June 1, 1991-
Arthav gasped as he shot up from the bed, his chest heaving. His hands trembled as he clutched the soft cotton sheets beneath him. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as his wide eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. The ceiling was high, painted in soft cream, with a large fan spinning lazily above him. Sunlight filtered through ornate windows, casting golden hues on the elegant furniture around the spacious bedroom.
This wasn't his room.
Where was he?
His heart pounded in his chest as a cold wave of panic gripped him. He tried to recall what had happened before waking up here, but his mind was blank. His fingers clutched his arms, desperate for some kind of anchor. The air smelled of sandalwood and something faintly floral, calming yet utterly foreign.
Then, without warning, pain lanced through his skull.
Memories flooded his mind, a relentless torrent of experiences that were not his own. A boy—Arthav Nair—his childhood, his parents, his home, his life. Moments of joy, laughter, sadness, discipline, and wonder poured into his consciousness. It was too much, too fast. His vision blurred, his fingers dug into his scalp, and he felt like screaming.
Then, just as suddenly, the storm passed.
His breathing slowed as the memories settled into place, no longer foreign but his own. His panic ebbed, replaced by a strange, chilling realization.
He had died.
His past life was over. The personal details were hazy, slipping from his grasp like sand through his fingers, but the certainty remained. He could vividly recall various animes, movies, and games—entertainment works that didn't yet exist in this world. He had lived another life, and now he was here, reborn as Arthav Nair.
And this world—this wasn't just any world.
It was the world of Harry Potter.
And the date was, June 1st, 1991.
He exhaled sharply, his mind racing through what he knew. But as he combed through Arthav's memories, he realized something unsettling. This world wasn't exactly the same as the books or movies. India's magical traditions were vastly different from what little had been mentioned in canon. Here, the ancient practice of Prana—the life force, spiritual energy, and environmental essence—was real. It was an intricate and powerful form of magic, one that had been practiced openly for centuries until secrecy became necessary due to foreign invasions, particularly between the mid-14th and 15th centuries. Later, the International Statute of Secrecy further cemented the hidden nature of Pranic practices, much like it had for wizarding communities worldwide.
Unlike Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, and other wizarding schools, India had no grand institution for magical learning. Knowledge was passed down from guru to shishya in secluded sanctuaries, far from prying eyes. Even magical tomes were closely guarded, available only to trusted practitioners. However, some families, despite being non-magical, had deep ties to these traditions, preserving knowledge even if they could not wield it themselves.
And his father—his non-magical father, Rahul Nair—was from such a lineage.
Arthav pressed his palm against his forehead, taking it all in. He had come from a mixed heritage, his mother being a British witch and his father an Indian muggle with a deep-rooted connection to Pranic traditions. He recalled his mother once telling him that pure-blood supremacists in the British wizarding world heavily frowned upon such unions.
His mother, Emily Carter Nair, was a brilliant British witch and a Hogwarts graduate who had fled Britain during Voldemort's rise. She had traveled the world in pursuit of magical knowledge, studying various traditions—African, Native American, Chinese, Japanese, and ultimately, Indian. Here, she had met his father, a wealthy but deeply spiritual man whose family had safeguarded Pranic traditions for generations. Somewhere along the way, they had fallen in love, and the result of that union… was him.
A boy born of both Western magic and Eastern mysticism.
His heart rate slowed as a strange calm settled over him. He wasn't just some random reincarnated soul dumped into this world. He was Arthav Nair, son of a brilliant witch and a man whose ancestors had guarded one of the most ancient magical traditions.
And tomorrow… tomorrow was his eleventh birthday.
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As the weight of his new reality settled in, Arthav continued sifting through his memories, trying to grasp more about this alternate world. His past knowledge of the Harry Potter series gave him a foundation, but the more he explored his inherited memories, the more he realized that this world was different—richer, deeper, and far more complex than what was ever shown in books or movies.
Then, he came upon a startling fact.
Something that made him further unique.
Something that raised serious questions about the future balance of the world.
He wasn't just a reincarnated soul with magical heritage. He had a mutation.
His ability had manifested a few years ago. His once dark brown eyes had undergone a transformation, shifting into a deep sapphire blue with faint, star-like patterns glimmering within them. At first, his parents had thought it was merely an unusual but harmless change. But then the effects became undeniable.
He could see energy.
Not just magic, but the very essence of life—Prana itself. He could perceive the ebb and flow of energy fluctuations around him, detect magical auras with unsettling clarity, and even differentiate between different types of power sources. His eyesight had become sharper than normal, allowing him to see distant objects with ease. More than that, his vision had gained an almost dynamic precision, capable of tracking high-speed movement in ways no ordinary human—or even a wizard—should be able to.
His mother had been worried. His father had been terrified.
They had taken him to see an old guru—one of the most respected Prana practitioners, a man who had long been close to their family. The guru had examined his eyes carefully, testing his abilities and pushing him to explore what he could do. After a long moment of silent contemplation, the guru had looked at his parents with something akin to awe and apprehension.
"He is a miracle child," the old man had said, his voice filled with reverence.
His words should have been comforting. They weren't.
Because miracles often attracted attention.
Through the guru, his parents had learned that something had been disturbing the balance of the world. The emergence of individuals with mutations seemingly exclusively among the non-magical or muggle population had begun stirring panic among both magical and non-magical authorities, as no other magical individual had awakened such mutation. These mutations weren't like magic; they were something else entirely—natural evolutions, unexplained and unpredictable.
The wizarding world was In turmoil over this. The International Confederation of Wizards feared what would happen if non-magical people began developing abilities that could rival their magic. The Statute of Secrecy, already fragile in some places, was now under more pressure than ever. And while there had been no recorded cases of magical children developing mutations—at least, none made public—Arthav was an exception.
He wasn't just a wizard. He wasn't just a Prana-sensitive child.
He was both—and something more.
A deep, uneasy feeling settled in his gut. If the world found out about him… what would they do?
Would he be seen as a threat?
Would they try to control him?
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. His mind raced, but one thing was certain.
His life had just become far more complicated.
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