Chapter 6: Layers of Magic

The Arcane Garden changed with Harris.

What was once a clearing became a sanctuary, vines he coaxed into weaving a natural fence, stones arranged in a perfect circle, and symbols etched carefully into bark and soil. It wasn't just a place to train now. It was his domain.

Every day after sunset, Harris slipped into the woods with a small satchel filled with candles, thread, ink, and books he borrowed in secret from the village library. He had learned something important: magic wasn't just about spells.

It was about understanding.

The deeper he dove, the more he realized how much magic was layered like an iceberg. The spoken incantation was only the tip. Below that were intent, will, emotion, motion, and resonance.

He experimented.

He changed how he felt while casting spells happiness, fear, curiosity and saw different results.

"Lumos."

When he was calm, it was a warm steady light.

When angry, it flared like a torch.

When focused, it became a sharp beam, almost solid.

Emotion shaped magic.

So did motion.

He spent three days adjusting his wand movements, drawing patterns in the air with a stick like an artist mastering brush strokes. He realized the shape he drew mattered even if just slightly.

"It's like magic responds to elegance," he muttered. "Like… a dance."

He was eight years old.

And already rewriting how he saw the magical world.

But it wasn't without cost.

Every night, he pushed harder. And every night, the voices grew louder.

"Too fast..."

"Too deep..."

"You'll break the rules..."

He couldn't tell if they were real or part of his fractured mind.

One night, as he meditated with his hands pressed to the earth, trying to feel the ley lines he'd read about, the forest pulsed. Not with wind. Not with movement.

But with power.

It was faint like the land itself was breathing beneath him.

That's when he tried something bold.

He didn't cast a spell.

He just reached.

Not with his hands, but with his will.

Feel it... pull it… shape it…

A tiny pebble on the ground began to levitate.

No incantation. No wand. No motion.

Just raw intent.

The moment it happened, his head felt like it split in two.

He screamed, clutching his temples as the pebble dropped. His nose bled freely. His ears rang. And something deeper something ancient stirred in the back of his mind, like a door creaking open.

He lay there for hours, barely conscious, eyes wide and afraid.

That night, he dreamed again.

Not of Harry Potter.

But of himself standing in a dark chamber lined with books, runes glowing on the walls, surrounded by a circle of floating objects all obeying his silent command.

And a voice behind him whispering…

"Learn the rules.

So you can break them."

He woke up shaking, but smiling.

Because now, Harris understood what kind of wizard he was becoming.

Not just a prodigy.

Not just a reincarnator.

But a mage one who bent magic, not just used it.

And the forest… it was listening.