33 POV No. 3

Septimus Aethelred's POV

(MC's father)

A lot had happened in the measly few years, the escalation in the events triggered from his son's brush with death when he was mere five years old.

His son had begun ruthlessly training his mind, body and spirit, and after having a little reprieve, in the form of Timeturner, he had utilised it in the most efficient way possible.

At the severe request of his son, he had emptied all their properties in England, and had relocated to Italy, near his grandparents. The Vaults in Gringotts were emptied and stored away, the properties and lands sealed away with Unplottable charm, and the Creature farms all relocated to the vast lands behind his In-laws' ancestral mansion in Venice.

At the stubborn request of his son, the two noble families with royal heritage had pooled resources and united in a way never thought possible before.

And it seemed, that if there was ever a branch from the houses, it would only be when his son decides to have two heirs for the two titles he would inherit.

And that was because his child had talents never thought possible. He could speak every language in this world, be it the humans or the creatures.

Parseltongue was an odd family trait of the Slytherin line, which every Pureblood Slytherin knew of, but to speak to horses, snakes, ants, crows, ravens, owls and even magical creatures was something straight out of a legend.

He had spent hours in the family library looking for a precedent of this skill, and so did his wife, and both their parents. The six of highly capable wizards and witches were only able to find an obscure closest association to something like this.

The legendary Allspeak, which the Woden Allfather or Wotan had, who was later anglicised as Odin. He was the first of the Aesirs, a wise god to the Norse, who was a legendary warrior with a Spear Gungnir, and spoke in a tongue which all creatures understood.

And beyond that obscure lore, there was no equivalent in the Muggle and magical records. And it seemed that the legend of the god, was more and more seeming to be a reality.

When he heard of the events in Britain, he could subconsciously remember his son begging him to relocate to Italy. He had given up his post at the Department of Mysteries, and he and his wife had found a new hobby: seeing his son learn anything and everything under the sun.

He had started with regular treatises on magical theory, and academic theses on various applications of magic, without using any magical focii, be it wand, staves, rings, rods, weapons or grimoires.

And apparently, he had began his own magical experiments with wandless use as well. He could hold a blob of light in his palm, and extinguish it, he could change the colour and shape of this light, which would require a new spell or modification, and apparently, he could now hold the blob of light in such a thin string, that he could make the light cut through a plank of wood cleanly without resistance.

His son seemed to be capable of making anything into a weapon, and he had spent every waking moment when he wasn't improving himself, with an enchanter who served his family.

After the first few visits, where his son had him enchant a few Muggle weapons, he had to make the enchanter make a magical oath, to never reveal his son's deals, orders and commissions with another soul, without his explicit permission.

His son seemed to have something specific in mind, when he started asking for specific enchantments, tools and accessories, which when he discussed with his wife, made him realise an uncomfortable truth: his son is growing into a gifted killer and warrior.

Every accessory he asked for would appear random and expensive toys of a spoilt child, but together they were like a kit to take out a group of unsuspecting targets.

When he asked the next day, to spend a few weeks as an independent excursion, he had spent the entire night with his wife, discussing his son's apparent plans and agenda.

He had hired a trusted Hitwizard who was a friend of his wife's, and sworn her into secrecy, and to shadow his son with the same cloak, he had commissioned for himself.

He also had a tracking charm on his son, which used blood magic and was utterly illegal in all ICW nations.

He also had his mother scry on him using his drop of blood and lock of hair, and made sure, he was ready and free to reach his son, if he was going to do something, from which there is no return.

It may seem mad, to spoil a child so rotten, that you wouldn't hold him back and reprimand him, when he seemed to want to kill people before he even turned nine.

It would seem utterly ridiculous to trust a child to know what's right and wrong, and believe that he will be alright.

But those people haven't seen the kind of training his son had, his determination and stubbornness, and his courage. He knew as his father, that at this point, to want to stop his child from going on this warpath, would sever any bonds he has with his child, and he would end up doing it anyway.

He knew it, his wife knew it, and their parents knew it. And six people now watched a child of almost nine years, going to a war-struck country, apparently with plan, that were far too long in the making, to kill someone, who is most assuredly someone strong and powerful and tough opponent to an adult, let alone to a child, who has vehemently disagreed to rely on a wand.

It may seem almost like the fate-sisters, like his son says, have decided a path for him, and even if he believes in no god, he still prayed for the first time that night, to any god, if there was one, to watch over his son.