Chapter 1: Nathaniel Bullstrode

"Get up you useless shit," A man said as he spat on a clothless boy. He looked no older than eleven years old, his hair was a golden brown shade and his eyes were a vibrant blue.

Unlike the rest of his family, many onlookers would decide he was inherently attractive. But not his family, no, the Bullstrode family saw Nathaniel as a complete nuisance.

They had tried their best to raise him to be tough. Raise him to have grit, to have anger in his eyes, but it was to no avail.

Even violent beatings weren't enough to stop Nathaniel from looking at his father with soft, sad eyes.

He still got beat quite often, like the present, but they hardly ever did it for long. It was more of a daily routine now than out of malice.

Nathaniel stood up, his body shaking as the purple and blue bruises could be seen against his pale skin. If one didn't know any better, and if he had brighter hair, he could have been mistaken as a Malfoy rather than a Bullstrode.

"Millicent darling, have you finished packing?" Their mother asked. Their sweet muggle-born mother. His father had gotten an earful by the otherwise pureblood members of the family, but he'd dismissed everyone's words and had gained two children from his mistress.

Nathaniel slipped on an oversized button-up shirt that used to belong to his grandfather and looked over at the kitchen table. The Bullstrodes were far from families like the Malfoy's, but they weren't struggling in the least.

Nathaniel knew he was an eyesore for his proud pureblood father who had to take care of, not one, but two half-bloods.

Unlike Millicent however, he was a man, so he could be beaten with no mercy and not leave the slightest guilty conscience on anyone that lived in their large house.

His mother didn't even glance his way as he sat down, looking at the bland oatmeal he was expected to eat while the rest of them started serving themselves waffles,bacon, sausage, eggs, the works.

As usual, breakfast consisted of little acknowledgment of Nathaniel and joy. Just food that needed to be eaten before they headed off to work. There was, however, the topic of Millicent being accepted into Hogwarts.

"I'm so glad you'll be going to the same school as your father and I dear, it truly is a magnificent school, now we just wait for Nathan's letter haha," Their mother said with a sweet smile.

Nathaniel managed a small smile in response. His incapabilities of being able to perform magic was a popular joke during meals, so he was used to it.

That was it really, the true reason his father hated him, the reason his sister was able to carve nasty words into his skin without consequence, the reason his aunts and uncles and cousins could talk bad about him with no repercussions from his parents. Nathaniel was a complete squib.

"Hah, if he gets an invitation I'll have to rethink even going there, because clearly they couldn't be able to recognize wizards from squibs or even muggles!" Millicent squealed out.

"Yeah well considering they let you in I wouldn't be surprised if muggles are next," Nathaniel shot back with a smile of his own, earning a glare from Millicent.

"Apologize at once!" His father yelled, red in the face as he looked like he was about to rip Nathaniel a new one for his harmless joke.

"But dad I-... Sorry," Nathaniel said simply, finishing his small serving of oatmeal and getting up.

One good thing about being the family's disappointment is that he was hated so much he wasn't expected to do even the simplest of chores. So unlike others, he was free to do whatever he wanted for the day.

And today it was exploring.

Nathaniel had always sought solace in the woods behind the Bullstrode estate. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the suffocating expectations and disapproving glares that filled the family home. On this particular day, as he ventured deeper into the forest, a sense of restlessness tugged at him.

With every step, the trees grew taller and thicker, their branches forming a natural canopy that filtered the sunlight. The sounds of the outside world faded, replaced by the whispering leaves and the occasional chirping of birds. Nathaniel's mind drifted to the stories of King Arthur and his legendary sword, Excalibur. He often imagined himself as a heroic figure, destined for greatness.

As he walked, his eyes fell upon a peculiar stick lying on the forest floor. It was gnarled and twisted, with a faint, otherworldly aura about it. Intrigued, he bent down to pick it up, his fingers closing around it. The moment his hand made contact with the stick, he felt a surge of energy coursing through him.

Without thinking, Nathaniel swung the stick through the air, mimicking the motions of a sword fight. It was a game he had played countless times, a way to escape into a world of fantasy.

"Watch out dragon, for I, Sir Nathaniel of the high order shall bring you to your doom!" He yelled, smiling as he slashed and dodged, stabbed, and parried against the make-believe dragon.

He jumped to the side, dodging the fake dragon's fire breath, and landed hard on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"I... Won't be defeated..." He managed as he got up, holding his greatsword high and giving one last final slash.

"Ultimate Dragon Slash!" He yelled, a huge smile on his face.

What happened next, however, was entirely unprecedented. No, it was safe to say it was impossible. Squibs cannot do magic. However, Nathaniel couldn't call it anything else.

Something went through the stick, flying off as he slashed and flew forward through the woods, slicing through dozens of trees.

Nathaniel widened his eyes, sweat dripping down his body as the trees slowly fell, birds chirping in panic and many flying away as the sound of crashing trees echoed through the small estate.

"Nathaniel!" He heard a yell. It was Millicent, and she was sure to overact if she saw this.

He stared at the stick for a second, his heart beating a million miles an hour before he dropped it and ran back.

"What the hell are you doing?" Millicent said in her annoying voice as he stopped running.

Nathaniel still wasn't sure what to say, How could he even explain what had happened?

He swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he finally spoke, "I...I don't know, Millicent. I really don't know." His eyes remained locked on the ominous stick, a harbinger of unforeseen darkness, as they both stared at the wreckage, in a forest that would never be the same again.

Millicent's eyes darted from the devastated woods to her bewildered brother, her expression a mix of anger and annoyance. She had been in the middle of her own morning routine when the thunderous crash of falling trees had torn through the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of their estate.

"Nathaniel, this is madness!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with exasperation. She gestured wildly at the destruction surrounding them, as if Nathaniel needed a visual reminder of the chaos he had unwittingly unleashed.

Nathaniel, still in shock, could only manage a feeble nod in response. His heart continued its relentless pounding, a relentless reminder of the inexplicable power that had surged through him.

Millicent approached her brother, eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "What were you doing out here, anyway?" she asked, her irritation momentarily replaced by genuine curiosity.

Nathaniel struggled to find words, his thoughts a tangled mess of fear, wonder, and uncertainty. How could he explain that he had been playing at being a hero, that he had been living out his own fantasies of magic and valor, and that, somehow, those fantasies had become horrifyingly real?

"I was... playing," he finally stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was pretending to be a knight, and... and this happened."

"Playing? Wait hold on. Do you expect me to believe you did all this?" She asked with a mocking laugh.

"Believe it or not it... I think..." Nathaniel stopped talking. He actually wasn't sure if he was the cause of the damage. It didn't make much sense, and if he was did he really want to take credit for it?

Their conversation was interrupted as the screeching of an owl could be heard overhead, and the twins watched as the snow-white bird descended from the sky, landing gracefully near them.

A familiar-looking letter was in it's beak as it looked expectantly at Nathaniel.

"Huh?" Millicent said, taking a step back as Nathaniel gulped and knelt down, grabbing the letter and wasting no time to open it.

'It couldn't be,' He thought, but oh it could.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Bullstrode,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

On the back was the list of items first years would need for the start of term that was only a month away.

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus