Ch2. Magic?

The morning went as usual and Harry cooked breakfast for Dursleys. He had to. Being reincarnated without any sort of power into an underfed and feeble child tends to do that. So, with a fake smile, twitching eye-brow, and tons of profanity in his head, he cooked the damn food.

And wasn't that a funny sight? He was not a very good cook in his last life and he often felt sad because of it but damn if seeing Dursleys frown at him because of the decrease in quality…

Well, it's not like they could complain. He was a child! And children don't understand these things, right? He was not really sure about his age. He certainly didn't look big enough to be close to eleven but from the story and various fanfictions… it was obvious his appearance can be very deceiving. How nobody at Hogwarts actually spotted there is something incredibly wrong with him would be forever a mystery.

Anyway, for the 'worthless food' as they called it, he got off lightly. Few complaints and one bruise courtesy to a 'head pat' by Vernon and off with him back into the dark cupboard! That suited him well anyway. He had things to do.

The second the door of the cupboard slammed shut behind him and the sharp click of the lock mockingly sounded inside, Harry's face split in a gleeful grin. He opened his senses to the world and gasped.

He felt it. Nay. He perceived it! The magic. Buzzing all around him as if excited little child.

Harry knew he had no advantage or so-called cheat. But he had something valuable from his past life. Namely, more than twenty years of living without having any mysterious energy around him. The magic now felt like a beacon to him. Harry didn't see it per se. He felt it. Of course, he was sure his perception of magic was way off by the wizarding standards.

When the magic healed his body, he didn't just 'feel' it, he felt it! The way it flowed around! The way it seeped into his muscles and bones! The way it knitted his muscles together and nourished them!

Oh, he perceived it all. The excitement Harry felt after finding out there actually is something different about him, something better than just a normal generic wizard, was almost addictive.

Harry was not one to waste his time. Not when the next time Walrus Vernon goes Harry hunting he may actually have a chance to fight back!

"Man can dream." Harry sighed. "Now, let me see just what kind of Dumbles I am dealing with."

His resolve steeled, he focused his senses more inwardly. He was sure he would find something very distasteful there. After all, he could feel the blood wards all around him. Even when he was being healed! It was actually the blood wards that directed the magic to heal him! Surely nobody actually believed that it was his accidental magic that healed him and kept his underfed, abused self alive day by day. No, if something happens twice it can still be called an accident. But… around two hundred times per year on average? And even then! That's only if we don't count that this so-called 'accidental' magic keeps his body from collapsing due to insufficient energy! No, if something happens twenty-four-seven all year round, there is nothing accidental about it.

Harry knew Dumbledore would be his enemy the second he understood the blood wards healed him. While not being even novice in warding, the underlying logic said it all. If wards are healing him from even life-threatening injuries, again and again, they had to be actually SET UP that way. The only person informed enough and able to set blood wards around him is the Dumbleschmuck himself. The fact he set them up that way is enough of a tell that the relationship between grandpa Twinkles and Harry won't be the most chipper one.

Harry plunged even deeper into himself, into his core. It was almost laughable how easy he could do it with his awareness of the energy that should not have been there. He just could. When he was almost in the center of his being, he gasped.

Nothing could prepare him for what he saw. Anger flooded him as rage-filled magic pulsed around him, making his freezing cold eyes shine in eery killing curse green.

His magic was bound. Tightly, at that. It was actually a small magical miracle he was even alive with having his magic bound and powering up bloody blood wards!

And how could his magic be bound when wizards use ambient magic to cast spells? Easily. His 'magic core' as he guessed the thingie with chains around it is called, is basically a filter that absorbs said ambient magic for his personal use. As of now, 95% of magic absorbed by him is dispersed back without even entering his system! He is majorly weakened!

"Bloody hell! I have access to only five percent of my magic while having my magic continuously sapped away by the blood wards!" He whispered to himself in disbelief.

No wonder the previous owner of this body would be such an unimpressive underachiever while being able to occasionally bleed out enough magic for Patronus charm strong enough to scare hundreds of dementors!

Nobody in their right mind would expect a child who has access to at most five percent of his power available to him to actually do well in classes! Except, perhaps, Dumbledore. He was always a bit touched in the head, that one.

Harry winced at the mere thought of having to force his magic out through the magical binding. With his perception, he could easily tell a feat like that would permanently damage his magical core. He was simply not having that! Even if Dementors flooded the entirety of Hogwarts, he would NOT sacrifice his future prospects for the safety of children Dumb-beard is employed to protect!

The sole saving grace was that the binding would probably weaken as he ages. He was not a hundred percent sure about that but man can dream, right? If not… he will need to do it with a hands-on approach. Ritualistically.

'Well, no matter. Crying over it won't really help me.'

Harry lied down on his bed and entered his core again. He slowly approached it. Step by step. Unhurriedly and incredibly carefully. Getting some backlash from magical binding because he tried to use his magical core rashly was the last thing he needed. Harry extensively observed his core, probing it with his mind. After getting no negative response he sighed in relief and finally relaxed.

Entering a meditative state, he slowly coaxed his magical core to expand the amount of magic it filters. Needless to say, it was not going very well. It was a frustrating process. Harry was not really sure meditation would actually work for increasing his reserves.

After a while, Harry could finally feel his magic core slightly expand. He opened his eyes filled with smug satisfaction only to gape when he looked at the clock.

Five hours.

That's how long it took him to expand his magic core! Heck! It was not even such a big expansion! If he continued unwaveringly with meditating like this for a year he might actually expand his core by ten percent of its current strength at most! Considering he is but a mere child, that's not such a big prospect since his magical core is going to expand really fast after his eleven birthday. Ten percent of his current core will be a very meager amount.

Understanding he just wasted five hours for something damned from the start, Harry's limp figure laid on the bed.

"This will be a lot harder than I previously thought, won't it?" He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

For the first time since waking up as Harry Potter, he felt trapped.

His cupboard, Walrus Vernon, glaring Petunia, gloating Duddikins, mad Dumbleschmuck, his magical core utterly bound, being drained by blood wards, his growth stumped by insufficient magic, none of those could make him feel caged. But the realization this won't go like in those fanfictions where protagonist usually mind-rape the Dursleys to obedience the second day and by the end of his first year is one of, if not the best wizard in existence while being surrounded by tens of beauties? Now that stung.

"I always utterly hated challenges." He drawled quietly and concentrated on thinking up ideas on how to improve his magic.

It didn't take him long to give up in that endeavor. He shot blanks.

Thousands of fanfictions under his belt, yet not remembering even one possible solution on how to improve his magic. Harry felt betrayed.

"Here I lay. Wasting time. After all the effort I put into reading these fanfictions in case something like this happened to me." He mused with amused sarcasm. "The previous owner of this body would be able to cast first-year spells with only five percent of his magic. Let's just hope I will be able to do the same."

Harry sighed and thought about the challenges the first year at Hogwarts will bring him as he slowly drifted off to sleep when he suddenly facepalmed.

'I am such an idiot! Being able to cast spells is the least of my worries! I may be small but judging by the size of the monstrosity they call Duddikins, I am most likely close to eleven! Going to school with both Tommy-boy and Dumbles completely unprotected! Without any occlumency shields… Ain't I practically screwed?'

Was his last thought before the darkness of the night claimed him.