Celestial Ascendancy

Wool's Orphanage, 2007

Elias Blake.

I woke up with a jolt, the remnants of a dream about a library grander than anything I could ever imagine still clinging to my mind. It felt so vivid, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it held some hidden meaning. That grandiose book in the middle of it felt like it was calling for me, yearning for me to approach it, make it mine, but the dream ended before I could.

Years ago, I might have brushed it off as just another dream, but now I was sure it was more than that.

I had thought nothing could surprise me anymore. After all, being reincarnated as an orphan in one of my favorite books was hard to top. At first, I believed I was living in a typical setting, and much of my first years in this life were spent plotting for the future, armed with the knowledge from my past life. On the surface, everything seemed normal, after all.

According to the caretaker at the Orphanage, I was born in 1993, and the place's name was a glaring hint.

Wool's Orphanage was the same one where Tom Riddle had grown up. Connecting the dots took me a while, but everything changed when I turned five. I remember that day vividly—the first time I accidentally performed magic. I had been crying over an older kid who had been bullying me, and in that moment of frustration, something extraordinary happened.

In a way no one could explain, the older kid bothering me was pushed against the wall by an unseen force; thankfully, no one was present to observe the freak accident.

Liam was not a dumbass after all, and if people were to know that he liked to pick on kids younger than he was, his reputation would disappear like nobody's business; Liam wanted to do so for the thrill of feeling the power he had over the rest of us, he was the oldest kid present at the Orphanage at that time, constantly pressuring the other children to do his chores or taking the food that was graciously provided.

As I said, I remember that moment vividly because it changed my life for the better. It was the day of my fifth birthday, and the matrons of the Orphanage decided to bake a cake for me, as they did every time someone had a birthday. Money was tight, but the matrons did everything they could for the children, even if it meant going some days without eating well.

I was gifted the biggest piece of cake since I was the birthday boy, but Liam tried to pressure me when I was alone in my Room so that he could eat it in my stead, going as far as pushing me toward my bed to steal my cake. I usually was more composed than that, feeling that it was stupid to dumb myself down to act like my supposed age, but maybe I could not control my emotions as well as I had thought, and I snapped. Liam was pushed against the wall with immense force, going to the point that it even cracked the wall.

At that moment, I thanked my lucky stars for giving me a gift in this new life, I had been conscious enough to know that I was in the world of Harry Potter, thanks to the name of the Orphanage and my accidental magic, but I used to whine that I was born years later than the main cast, sad to miss the main adventure of the books. While it would be better in the long term since I was born after the series's main antagonist was defeated, I always dreamed of forming part of the main trio.

In my past life, I dreamed of an opportunity like this. After all, I was somewhat of a failure. I had been expelled from multiple schools due to my not knowing when to start acting as a mature human being. I had continued studying, of course, since my parents would hear none of it, but I felt demoralized since I was the oldest of my grades by a large margin. Being eighteen surrounded by kids three years younger than me was weird, and it made me feel worse than it probably should have. 

Either way, after that time, Liam stopped acting like a prick. No one of the kids knew why he had a change of heart, but everyone was thankful for it; he even started acting like a good older brother to some of them. Not me, of course.

Even if he did not remember how he was pushed to the wall, it appeared that there was some unconscious fear of me. It was okay; I did not need someone to act like that with me. Everyone knew that I was special, not by much, mind you since I hid most of my knowledge so as not to stand out too much. For everyone else, I was just an exceptionally bright child; there was nothing to write to the governments about, but enough for me to get noticed and supported.

While I had not been adopted, even after standing out in school and the community, there were always organizations or schools that tried to help me, even if indirectly. I was offered scholarships to the best schools in the area, which I gladly accepted even if I knew I would disappear when I turned eleven.

The day I boarded the Hogwarts Express showed that I should not blindly trust the information I had about the future. I met my current best friends, Iris Potter and Hermione Granger, who had been my pillars in this life. The years in this world had been pushed, and as of right now, I did not know the reason why.

Before I could continue my introspection, I felt something weird in the air, and I tensed and grabbed my wand. It felt comfortable to the touch and helped me calm down, even minutely.

The wand was made of blackthorn, and its dark and smooth surface glinted in the light. 11 ¾ inches, according to Olivander, with the core of a phoenix feather. It was rigid, and I loved it like nothing else. It had accompanied me for our adventures in the first three years of Hogwarts, fighting plants, spiders, a werewolf, and even a godforsaken basilisk.

Having my wand in my hands made me relax minutely; even if I risked some fine with the government, at least I would be alive to pay for it. Slowly, I opened my eyes, trying to find the reason for the change I could feel.

According to Professor Flitwick, I was susceptible to magic, and the change of the magic in my Room was something that even the trolls of Slytherin could feel.

Seeing no one present in the Room, I stood up slowly, a protego ready on my lips just in case someone was invisible. My senses were sharp, but that could not help me here. My wand slipped when I saw what was on my table.

The same book I had dreamed was present on top of the table; it was a grimoire, similar to the ones we saw in our first years at Hogwarts when we sneaked into the forbidden section of the library. Its cover was bound in cracked leather that seemed to pulse some faint silver light. I could feel it pushing against my mental defenses, which I was proud enough to have, and it tore through them like a hot knife through butter. I wasn't in control of my body anymore; nothing over the years prepared me for something like this. I felt myself panic.

I felt myself approaching the grimoire slowly until I picked it up from the table. My hand moved without my input, grabbing a sharp pen used to cut the tip of my finger, and I tried to move with all my strength, but it was for naught. The blood started sipping into the first page of the open grimoire. Preparing for the worst, I tried to close my eyes to no avail. I was going to die a virgin one more time.

The grimoire shined with silver light, way more potent than before. It was so strong that I could feel my eyes pricking from it, watering almost instantly. Before long, my blood in the grimoire was subsumed into it, a splotch of blood moving along the pages, forming something that I could not decipher.

It appeared to be a message, but it was written in a language I could not understand—not English, Spanish, or French.

Before long, I could feel myself in control of my body once again before I was hit with the mother of all headaches; clutching my head, I fell to the ground with a silent scream of agony; after some minutes of trembling in pain, I finally understood what had happened.

I was the (proud?) owner of the Celestial Grimoire, a book with no beginning or ending. As time progressed, it gave me points depending on my actions, which could be used to roll something out of it—knowledge, artifacts, or perks. I did not know what kind of things I could roll, but the letters changed to something readable.

Start: 200 CP

+100 CP, 300 CP Total.

Roll or bank?

I knew nothing about this grimoire, but I was already bonded with it, so I hoped the message imprinted into my soul was correct and not a curse. Momentarily, I wondered if I should go ahead with it or ask for help from someone more experienced.

In my three years at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had been helpful to us in his own cryptic way, which lessened my fear of him being a hidden dark lord. However, I felt that I should keep this close to myself. I didn't know if the book was messing with my mind, but I decided to try it first.

Taking a deep breath, I took the pen used to cut my finger open and wrote "roll" on the first page.

A little ping could be heard in the deepest part of my mind, and something in my gut pulled and pulled hard.

[Thief's Grace]- 300 CP

A comparison could be made between you and a ghost. You have been trained in the art of stealth, making it easier for you to go unseen by others. This has the added benefit of you becoming more agile and dexterous, surely that will help in battle.

I could feel it in my soul; the grimoire worked, and I was filled with joy. My adventures in Hogwarts were filled with perils and every year, I dreaded going back and putting my life at risk, but I continued to do so for my friendship with Iris and Hermione. They were my best friends, and I would do anything for them. I could not lie and say that I didn't start that friendship in hopes of becoming someone important; after all, I was just a single orphan, a mudblood, according to the Slytherins.

In my first year, I befriended Iris and Hermione, even helping Iris with my knowledge because I wished to be someone of importance, earning a name for myself. I tried to keep the events as close to canon as possible but tipped the scales in our favor. But the risk was always there, and I was not the most courageous.

But now that would change for the better, I hoped; I could already feel my new agility in my body. Jumping on my toes, I did my morning routine for exercise, something that I had done since I could remember. I did not know why wizards and witches didn't exercise because the best way to defeat someone in a fight was to move away from their spells. Since there was magic and potions to help people be lean, wizardkind forgot about their basics—an error I would not commit.

100 CP awarded, 100 CP Total.

Roll or bank?

Taking a deep breath, I wrote "roll" again, and the pulling feeling was no less disturbing than the first time.

[Fertile River] - 200 CP

Why? You are now the official owner of a large river, of clean water and large fishes. It's not just a mundane river, however. Anyone who drinks water directly from the river, whether woman, man, or animal, will immediately become heavily pregnant. The water has to be drunk directly from the river for it to work its magic, but it looks like completely normal water, so tricking people into drinking from it might not be difficult. You could easily maintain a whole kingdom composed of nothing but women with no issues on producing the next generation with this river. Additionally, you also possess a natural wellspring of water hidden in a cave somewhere relatively close to the river (as in, ten miles away), that immediately and painlessly aborts any pregnancy of whoever drinks it, even if the pregnancy is natural instead of produced by drinking the water of the river. You should be careful no one drinks more than a few sips of this abortion water, though, as that can be very lethal. Not that you're under any obligation to show people where this wellspring is.

Unable to purchase, points banked.

Snorting at this roll, I could not help but double over in laughter. Why would I ever need something like this, I wondered. Having a kingdom filled with women sounded fun until you remember how women act when unionized. I had more than enough with my best friends, after all. Even two of them would make me go grey before my twenties. No, Skip.

With that, the grimoire disappeared from my sight, but I could feel it inside my soul, ready for the next roll.

I no longer felt fear for the future. I noticed from this world that Wizardkind seemed stronger than in the movies; there was a dueling club for anyone interested since my first year, a club filled with children brandishing their wands like their lives depended on it. There were a lot of differences with canon, so I always doubted if we could ever be victorious against Voldemort without much luck. But now? Now, I felt like I could go against anyone with enough time.

Smiling a bit, I picked up my wand from the floor, took my cleaning kit from Olivanders, and started cleaning it from the specks of Dust that adhered to it on the floor. Shaking my head, I looked toward the calendar in the door. It was still some weeks from the start of our fourth year, and I needed to get ready to go to the quidditch World Cup with my best friends and Ron. Our relationship with the redhead was not as close as in canon, thanks to my intervention, but we were still friends since he approached us to thank us for saving Ginny during our second year.

At first, he was a jealous git since I was closer to Iris than he was, but he tried too hard to mingle with us during the train ride. Iris told me in secret that she felt he only wanted to befriend her thanks to her identity as the girl who lived. I remembered feeling shame since I was doing the same, but I just hid it better than him. The first year was the same; he tried to get closer to the golden trio and make it a quartet, but he got mad after Iris rebuffed him publicly. He lost his temper and said something he shouldn't have, ending with me cursing him.

At that time, I was afraid the twins would bully me in the name of vengeance. Still, thankfully, even they were disgusted with what he said, so they gave me carte blanche to teach him if he ever behaved like that again, as long as I made it funny and left no lasting damage.

Thankfully, after that, he left us alone for the rest of the year—until the second one. When he heard from his parents what had happened inside the chamber of secrets, he corralled us in a corridor and apologized profusely, asking for forgiveness and swearing to do better in the future.

He became friends with the rest of the Gryffindor boys, whom I did not talk to since I spent most of my time with my best friends. The only one who was somewhat close to me was Neville, I tried to help discretely, but his grandmother had already damaged his self-esteem.

Today was the day. According to the letter delivered by Pig, Ron's new owl, Mr. Weasley, had saved Iris from the Dursleys three days ago, and today, they would be coming to pick me up. 

Since I was an orphan, it was no trouble for my caretakers to give me permission to leave without much explanation. Ever since I was young, I have shown myself to be much more mature than the rest of my peers, and since I was invited by a classmate's family, they didn't ask much.

Going over my bed, I reached below it to grab my trunk. It was pricey but worth every galleon I earned selling things from the Room of Requirement. Since the education at Hogwarts had lessened over the years, the children were not supervised as well as they should have been, considering we had learned to alter reality since our first year.

Thanks to Pip, a young house elf bonded to Hogwarts, I obtained a bag of holding. With it, I could smuggle enough trinkets, and the twins helped me sell them during the break of my second year. With that gold, I bought this trunk at a price I didn't even want to remember, but I had enough space to do whatever I wanted. It even had a room for potions and enchanting.

While I was no Hermione, I also dabbed enough with potions. I knew that some of them could be useful in the future, and knowledge was power.

Thanks to me, Iris, Hermione, and I chose the electives of Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. We needed to be prepared for the final confrontation, and since the world had some differences with canon, I couldn't be sure Voldemort only had seven horocruxes or if they were even the same.

At the very least, Iris had the lightning bolt on her forehead, and we destroyed the diary in our second year, but that didn't mean the rest were the same.

Storing everything I needed in my trunk, I nodded in satisfaction, but before I could go and eat with the rest of the children, the grimoire stirred inside my soul.

+100 CP awarded, 200 CP total.

Roll or bank?

Anxious, I thought to roll, and thankfully, the grimoire accepted the order. It was good that I didn't need to write on it for it to work since I was sure that people would wonder where an orphan muggle-born found a grimoire that shined like nothing I'd ever seen in my admittedly short life.

[Power Through Pain]- 200 CP

Through ritualistic self-torture and sheer willpower, you are able to channel Dust magic. You require a foci to channel truly powerful spells but while unarmed you can still fling brilliant blue flames from your hands. You pain tolerance is increased greatly, and will further increase the more you inflict pain upon yourself. With enough practice, you could immolate yourself and feel only a distracting tingle. How much are you willing to put yourself through for power?

Purchased, 0 CP Remaining.

I didn't know what to feel about this roll; while pain tolerance is a great bonus, that didn't mean I wouldn't die just as easily as before. In fact, it was a problem because I would not realize how harmed I was at any given moment. Another bad thing was that Dust didn't exist in this world, so I would be limited in what I could do with my new magic.

Frowning in thought, I felt a slight tingle in my hands that grew stronger the more I focused, and before long, blue flames sparked from my hands. I did not know if I was damaging myself with it, so I willed them to disappear. At the very least, I had something to defend myself in case I was in a sticky situation without my wand. According to the knowledge that I had now, this was the most I could do without Dust. It was disheartening, but I needed to see the plus to my situation. The quidditch World Cup would be attacked by terrorists, so at least I had something with more oomph than a stunner or a reducto.

Smiling, I opened the doors to enjoy my last hours in the Orphanage.

Six hours later.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Weasley." I smiled at the balding man. While oblivious, he was a good person who saw the best in everyone. Even if he didn't know much about me, he treated me like a good friend of his youngest son. Saving his baby daughter helped a lot, I was sure.

"It's nice to see you too, Elias," he replied with a wide smile. How is vacation treating you?"

"It's all good; the caretakers treat me well," I replied with a nod, "But I cannot wait to go to Hogwarts once again."

"Ah, Hogwarts is a special place for all of wizarding Britain. I can understand your desire to go back, young man," he said, nodding in understanding. "I was the same when I was your age, and I'm sure most of all felt the same while we studied there."

Smiling at him, I took my trunk and his hand. The sensation of apparating was horrible, and I felt my knees wobble, gasping for air when we arrived at the burrow.

Taking a moment to calm myself, I stood up and checked if all my limbs were attached to my body. I didn't know if that was a risk when someone else apparated you, but I wanted to ensure I was complete.

Sighing in relief, I looked toward Mr. Weasley.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that." I shook my head with a rueful smile

Mr. Weasley laughed, "It is better when you do it by yourself, lad. But wait until you are in your seventh year to learn. I'm sure you do not want to experience losing an arm and not knowing what to do." He cautioned sternly, "I already have enough problems with the twins; finding a finger in the dining table was something I don't wish to experience again."

Snorting at that, I was about to reply before the grimoire stirred inside me.

100 CP awarded, 100 CP total

Roll or bank?

Choosing to bank it for the moment, I was about to continue with our conversation when two cannons hit me like a train, and I was sprawled on the floor.

"Elias!" two voices said in unison, and I smiled contently at being together once more.

Hugging the two witches with one arm each, I burrowed my head in their hair. "I missed you two so much," I murmured.

Hermione was the first to separate from me, "I missed you too, Elias." she said with a cute dusting on her cheeks, her wild hair moving along the wind.

Smiling at her softly, I looked toward the gremlin still holding onto me, "I don't wish to go back, Eli," Iris said softly, and my face went blank. Her situation with the Dursleys was a little bit different than in canon, her gender was probably the main reason for that, and while thankfully she didn't suffer the worst, Petunia tried to belittle her as hard as she could, going as far as slandering as a "Slut" like her mother, according to the snobbish bitch.

"Just one more year, Iris," I said softly, trying to calm myself. "Did you hear anything about Padfoot?"

Iris shook her head, "The last thing I heard about him was that he was going to France for a while; he is still wanted after all." That had been one of my most difficult decisions in this life, but I needed Pettigrew to escape so that he could bring Voldemort back to life. If it wasn't him, another death eater probably would do it, so at least I would know what to expect this year. I hope to get something from the grimoire this year to capture him during the rebirth.

"Everything will be better, I promise," I vowed while hugging her hard enough to prove my point. "I will make sure of it, believe me."

Iris separated her head from my chest and looked at me with her beautiful emerald eyes, searching for any deceit, even though she knew I would never do that. Before long, she nodded.

"Good," I kissed her brow, "Now let us go and greet the Weasleys."