When I open my eyes, I was in a wooden cradle. My whole body seems to be made of marshmallow. My limbs are heavy and hard to move. After struggling a bit, I finally succeed in standing up and I am watching what's around me.
The bedroom furniture is made of wood and consists of what is most often found in a baby's room, a changing table, a small dresser, wooden shelves filled with small trinkets like ceramic animals and photos taken at each of my most insignificant movements.
However, I'm stressing a little when I realize that the walls of the room are painted pink. Most parents focus on two colors when painting a baby's room, blue for boys and pink for girls.
I struggle as much as possible to remove the bottom of the pink sleepsuit in which I am trapped, and I end up pulling my legs out at the cost of a few minutes of effort and two broken buttons. I delicately remove the ties from my diaper which let appear, to my greatest relief, my most faithful evening companion, although he has shrunk quite a bit and my balls have not descended yet.
Continuing my observation of the room, I find a calendar made of small wooden plates mounted on a support that displays the date of February 14, 1993. According to my birth certificate framed on the wall in front of my crib, I was born on August 14, 1992, so I've been around for six months. Luckily for me, it seems that the reaper was thoughtful enough not to have allowed me to remember the trauma of birth, I would probably have gone mad otherwise.
I don't want to waste my time sleeping in a crib. Let's start training!
I try to feel the magic in me, and for long minutes I feel absolutely nothing but the strange beating of my little heart. But slowly, I begin to perceive something, a very light vibration right next to my heart. This vibration is completely different from the beats of this one, it seems rather a kind of melody with a rhythm of its own.
I'm concentrating on it. It must be the core the reaper was talking about. This one seems closed, as if a dam prevented the vibration from spreading throughout my body. I try to force it, but after several hours of mental effort, it still seems as resistant as before.
"Look, he's awake!" A voice attracts my attention and when I turn my head, I see a very beautiful blonde platinum woman with a pretty face that one would have thought to belong to a fairy-tale princess and eyes so light blue that one would have confounded it with pieces of the purest ice. That woman was staring at me from the doorway.
"Hey, look who have come to greet you. How are you my little man?" Next to her stands a tall man with brown hair. He's kind of muscular but not too much, more like an athlete than a bodybuilder. He is not especially handsome, he has a big nose, hair on the hands, small pockets of fat above the eyes and especially a disgusting mustache that looks like straight from a magazine about British gentlemen. We cannot say that he is ugly either, he has the appearance of someone who does a lot of exercise or manual work.
By seeing them both, I have hope of being above average in appearance when I grow up. Even if it's not necessary since I'm a metamorphmagus.
"Look at him, he is your spitting image. He's already starting to do little white hair!" My father hands me over to my mother who takes me in her arms and starts to rock me gently. I had to resist with all my might not to fall asleep.
"My beautiful baby. I hope you grow up to be a gentle little boy and not a womanizer like your father." At her words, my father burst out laughing and took my mother in his arms.
"I rather think that with his veela blood, he will become a legendary seducer!" My mother looks up to heaven and places a tender kiss on my father's lips.
So, my mother is a veela or at least a mixed blood. That explains the snow white hair and the crystal eyes.
"But I always wonder how that's possible. I thought you told me that all the descendants of veelas were girls."
"I don't know either. I've never seen this before. Mom will be here soon. She sent me a letter confirming that she would be here early next month." So, I have at least one grandmother alive. "My beautiful little Sean Bones. We're safe here. Mom and Dad will always be there to protect you." I feel like the mood is getting tense all of a sudden. My new parents don't say anything anymore and just stand there hugging me.
A week later, I finally manage to remove the dam that prevents my magic from circulating. Suddenly, I feel the energy travelling in every cell of my body and exploding.
"ARTHUR !!!"
----------POV Arthur----------
Rebuilding our lives after our arrival in America was not an easy feat. But we found this little town where we hid away from Voldemort and the conflict that was raging in Britain during Elenea's pregnancy.
Then the conflict ended with the death of Voldemort and Sean was born. It all worked out for the best and we couldn't be happier.
"ARTHUR!!" I hear the voice of Elenea coming from the baby's room, accompanied by the crash of furniture on the walls.
I take out my wand and climb the steps four by four to join my wife. My heart is pounding on the idea that a deatheater had found us.
However, when I arrive there, it's a whole other show that takes place in the room. The furniture rotates around Sean's crib to smash on the walls or crash on the floor before flying again. Elenea is shocked in the doorway and does not seem to know how to react. At the center of all this chaos is Sean, crying and waving his arms. His skin and hair changing color constantly, from green to orange, and then to blue.
"Finite incantatem" I raise my wand while a spark comes out to touch an object in flight. All of a sudden everything that was in suspension crashes on the ground and calm returns to the room if not for Sean's cries.
"Arthur, what does that mean?" Elena still trembles with fear despite the return to calm. I hold her in my arms and hug her gently to reassure her.
"Obviously, that our son is not a squib and that he is probably also a metamorphmagus"
Things have just taken a strange turn.
----------POV Sean----------
I was quite surprised by my first childhood magic attack. It was as painful as it was unexpected. When the pain is finally gone, I realize that my new parents are in my room.
I contemplate the devastation all around me. Furniture shattered, walls damaged, and windows broken. At least the positive side is that they now have a reason to redo the paint.
The following week is exclusively dedicated to mastering my new power. It's quite complicated to do magic by yourself. In the movies, they follow spells books and are entitled to wands and incantations to simplify life. But I have to improvise a bit because I don't have a wand or an opportunity to speak.
Fortunately, it is possible to do magic without a wand or incantation, otherwise all my hopes of enjoying my advantage over the others would be reduced to nothing.
Not knowing how to do it, I think it would be best to start with a clear picture. One of the most basic spell wizards learns in their first year is Lumos. I imagine something similar, a small light ball floating above my hand.
It is only at the end of this week of training that I finally manage to create this little light ball. It's not much, but it's honest work!
"Arthur! Sean is doing magic again!" My mother, who probably believes in another involuntary magic crisis, is starting to panic.
I hear my father going up the stairs four by four.
"Finite!" He breaks my spell and I feel the magic dissipate.
I think I've figured out how to pass the time!