HP: A Magical Journey Chapter 296

Abraham wondered why, that for some reason, Quinn West looked more similar to Alan D. Baddeley than he looked to his sister or grandfather. He looked between the young and the old and tried to see why was it so.

Then it dawned on him.

'Their smiles are the same,' thought Abraham, watching the two unfettered smiles.

"Here, I thought you forgot the poor old me," said Alan as he sat down in front of Quinn.

"How could I?" Quinn chuckled. "I'm not going to forget you, at least until the day when I'm able to break into that disgusting lockbox of a mind. When your defenses are in shambles, then you have my permission to die. So before that, don't kick the can, alright."

"That might be a problem, my dear student," Alan laughed with his eyes closing.

"Oh, why may I ask?"

"You'll be dead before you or anyone else is able to peak into the beautiful masterpiece what is unanimously considered to be the best mind in the world."

Quinn laughed, "Don't count on that, old man. I'm going to do that apprenticeship under you, learn everything you have to teach, learn about your mind inside-out, and before you know it, I would be looking at your most embarrassing of memories."

"You're welcome to try, but you're naive to think that I won't study your mind as you study mine— and unlike you, I'm spectacular at what I do. You will be attacking my mind without having a clue that I have been sitting in the core of your mind, seeing your moves before you know you're making them."

The master and student, both prideful about their abilities, neither willing to concede that they would be on the losing end. One was the premier mind specialist— the best of all time, as the man liked to declare about himself. While the other one was a rising star— the fastest-growing magical in the world, the strongest and most knowledgeable someone ever was when they were at his age.

"It's delightful meeting you after so long, Quinn," said Alan earnestly.

"I feel the same, Mr. Alan . . . though I have to say before you finally agreed to get a MagiFax last year, it was tough to get the hang of you— if you only listened to me and let me set up a WMF-id for you."

"I have already said this to you but, at that time, I didn't see any use for it. Even now, I don't use it as much as a lot of people I know do. Though I have to say, it is a very intriguing and useful implementation of magic— I have many a conversation with many magic researchers about how it works and the implications that MagiFax has in the world.

Your family did a good job creating MagiFax," said Alan.

Quinn smiled. He had created MagiFax in his earlier Hogwarts days, a couple years after he and Alan had parted. Then the last time both had met, Alan had restricted (quite in a bit in Alan's skewed standards) and didn't enter the part of Quinn's mind that he didn't want to be seen. Though Quinn was expecting that Alan would know about MagiFax's origins, seeing that he didn't was surprising.

'Oh, I'm thinking about it now; maybe he knows now,' Quinn thought, staring at Alan, who noticed his gaze and chuckled. Quinn tilted his head and asked, "What's funny?"

"Oh nothing," Alan chuckled more. "You were testing if I was reading your mind, weren't you."

"Are you?"

"No, I'm not. I will take residence in your mind when you come apprentice under me," said Alan, picking up his glass of seltzer. "Though I could be lying, and I'm already in your mind, which, for you, would mean that I'm still absolutely superior and you're still another lifetime or two behind before you finally catch up to me if that's even possible."

"How can you say that? You don't know what I have going on in my mind. I might have created something that even you would have a difficult time entering," Quinn crossed his arms.

"Should we try it then?" asked Alan.

". . . No."

Their meal soon started, and because of a multi-course meal, Quinn cast a sound spell of his own creation that would make him and Alan communicate even with the servers going in and out of the room. The spell ensured that Alan's words addressed to Quinn would only be audible to Quinn and vice-versa; the server would only hear their voice if Alan and Quinn said words addressing the server.

"Your skills with casting magic without a focus must have improved since the last time we met," said Alan when Quinn cast the sound magic. The last time Alan and Quinn had parted, Quinn had just finished rebuilding his natural focus ability back from scratch.

"It has gotten better. I mean, I'm still in the growth period, so even if I don't do anything, it would still improve," said Quinn followed by a sigh. "This is the last year of my growth period— after this, my progress would considerably."

"You are the only person who doesn't deserve to say that with a sigh," Alan said, looking at his student incredulously. "I reckon you have more magic than any human on the planet, Quinn. People don't spend their teenage years exhausting their magic every day— they go out and play with their friends have fun with their lives. I don't believe that there are many people who followed a milder version of what you did, much less the intensity you follow.

And even those who did spend magic daily, most of them didn't do it voluntarily . . . a child doing what their parents force them to do doesn't make for fantastic motivation after all," said Alan, laying a napkin on his lap.

"Still, you know . . . I end up feeling like I could've done else I could've done to supplement my growth— that there was a method other than magical exhaustion every day that could've yielded more results," said Quinn, wiping the silver soup spoon with a napkin cloth.

"You're overthinking this matter," Alan waved his hand in dismissal. "Sure, there are potions you can take and rituals one can undergo, but you know how they can turn out. If you don't know exactly what you're trying to do, messing with your natural physique can end up doing more harm than good, especially in the long run."

Quinn conceded the point. Rituals were high-risk magic without knowledge, which Quinn didn't have, at least not yet. Potions were temporary and were a viable option to supplement their growth, but the returns weren't worth it with what was put in. Finally, there was the option of body magic— what he did currently was a temporary boost, but as one dove deeper into body magic, permanent, and more importantly, stable augmentations were possible.

But those weren't in the near future, at least not for another nine years to a decade.

"So, tell me, what have you been for the past few years?" asked Alan. "You're young, you must've gotten a girlfriend or two by now— what about the girls I saw in your memories— what was their names . . . Daphne, Tracey, Luna, Hermione, Ivy— or was there was someone else that came along? Come on, tell me~."

Quinn suddenly slammed his palm lightly on the table. "You dare ask me that after sending me that sort of gift on birthday?!"

"What are you talking about? I think it was a great gift!"

"You gave me a book on Kamasutra, for crying out loud!" Quinn said loud;y, recalling the morning of his birthday last year when he found a package from Alan in the lounge. He was excited when he saw that the package was clearly in the shape of a book— thinking that maybe it was a new version of Alan's books, but when Quinn opened it in the lounge, with George, Lia, Ms. Rosey, and Elliot, all sitting nearby, he found the book titled — Kamasutra — he had never mended anything faster than he did the ripped up wrapping paper.

"Yeah, and that's what makes it such a great gift," Alan said proudly. "And it was the real deal, you know, it's one the good versions that I got straight from India with all the right spells and magic to elevate the experience . . . you didn't throw it away, did you? Did you?!"

Quinn picked up some of the soup in his spoon but couldn't bring it to his mouth under the intense gaze of Alan. "Alright! Alright! I still have it; I didn't throw it away. It's somewhere in my library."

"Did you read it?"

"No."

"So you did read it, nice!" Alan clapped happily.

Quinn groaned. He had read the book . . . professional curiosity— 'It was a type of body magic, after all. . . yeah.'

"Did you read about the chapter on first times," said Alan, enthusiastically, "because if you use the magic, they can make it painless—"

"Alright, stop with that already!"

Alan laughed at the sight of Quinn groaning.

"It was surprising that you caught when I was in America," said Alan, spooning some of the soup in front of him. "I'm here for another week before going back home to New Zealand for a year. If you called me after another week or so, you could've been able to see my house by the beach at Piha.

But I guess it can't be helped; from what I can recall, this is the time when your school goes into Easter break."

Quinn didn't comment on Alan's perfect memory.

"I will see your home when I apprentice under you," he said.

Alan looked up from his code and said, "It seems you have made your mind about apprentice under me."

"Yeah, I think starting it off with mind magic under you is going to be a good starting point. I plan to learn from you and devote a majority of my time to what you're going to teach me. I won't be stopping my other pursuits— however, I will be going back to the basics and fundamentals, understanding them at a much deeper level, so that when I leave you and start with others, I would have a base of knowledge acting as a springboard for me to start on."

Quinn had been juggling numerous things for the past couple of years that it had got hectic for him, and it was becoming difficult for him to juggle all those things as the complexity of things started to ramp up. So he decided that he would be going back to the gold ol' basics while following whatever Alan wanted him to do.

"Are you sure?" asked Alan. "Your apprenticeship under me might go on for five years or even longer."

"That's a long time, Mr. Alan," said Quinn, chuckling. "I speculate, I would be out after year three . . . and even if it does take five years, I'm fine with it, I'm in no hurry— I have a lot of time on my hands."

"I see . . . so, what do you want to talk to me about," asked Alan. "I'm quite certain that you didn't call me all of a sudden to catch up, did you?

So tell me, what is today's agenda?"

Quinn let the soup spoon sit in the bowl and gazed up at Alan, who sat up a straighter, seeing the expression on Quinn's face.

"Do you remember what I told you about the curse that took away my natural ability to focus magic?" Quinn asked.

Yes, of course, obviously," said Alan, "you called it the Sin curse."

"Yes . . . the Sin curse . . . ."

Alan gazed at Quinn, waiting for him to continue, but Quinn looked up at him with pursed lips . . . and then shrugged. Alan's eyes widened as it dawned on him.

"You . . . you caught it again?!" Alan leaned forward and spoke with shock in his voice.

"Well, technically—"

"Quinn."

Quinn sighed and then nodded, "Yes, I got it again," his face scrunched up, "and Mr. Alan, you have got to help me out."

Alan D. Baddeley - Master - I have excellent choice in gifts.

Quinn West - MC - Second again?! You got to be kidding me!

FictionOnlyReader - Author - When the students is ready, the master appears.

Chapter end