Harry Potter and My Wizarding Life

The next three days were… frustrating, to say the least.

I woke up every morning, determined to make progress, only to end each night with the same damn result:

Five seconds.

No matter what I did, no matter how much I focused, I couldn't hold the eraser in the air for more than five lousy seconds.

Day four? Five seconds.

Day five? Five seconds.

Day six? You guessed it—five freaking seconds.

At first, I thought maybe I was just weak, that I wasn't practicing hard enough. But after repeating the same failure over and over again, I finally stopped and asked myself:

"What am I missing?"

And that's when I started noticing things.

This was the biggest discovery so far.

It happened by accident. On the evening of day six, after another failed attempt at extending my levitation time, I got pissed. Like, seriously pissed.

I wasn't throwing a tantrum or anything, but the frustration had built up so much that, for a split second, I just willed the eraser to stay up with every ounce of anger I had.

And suddenly…

Seven seconds.

It was brief, barely noticeable, but the eraser hovered just a little longer than before. That was all the proof I needed.

Magic wasn't just about concentration—it needed fuel. And that fuel was emotion.

It made sense. Magic in the Harry Potter universe had always been tied to emotions. Accidental magic in children happened when they were scared or angry. Even adult wizards had spells influenced by emotions—Patronuses, Cruciatus, hell, even Occlumency required emotional control.

Now, the challenge wasn't just learning how to move things.

It was learning how to channel my emotions properly.

When I first wished for perfect memory, I did it because I thought, Hey, that sounds useful!

But I hadn't really considered what it meant to never forget anything.

Every moment, every sound, every face I had ever seen—it was all stored in my mind with absolute clarity. I could recall entire conversations word-for-word, replay memories in full detail, and even remember tiny background noises I wouldn't have noticed before.

At first, it was overwhelming. It felt like my brain was too full, like I was hoarding thoughts I didn't need. But the more I got used to it, the more I realized…

This was an advantage.

For one, I never had to study again. I could read something once and remember it forever.

And second?

I knew the entire plot of Harry Potter.

I knew who lived, who died, and how everything played out.

Which was great, except… what if the plot tried to correct itself?

This was something I hadn't considered before.

Sure, I knew what was supposed to happen, but was the universe itself forcing things to stay the same?

If I changed something major—like, say, stopping Voldemort early—would reality itself try to fix it? Would new obstacles appear to keep the timeline intact?

It was an unsettling thought.

Because if fate was trying to keep the story on track, then just knowing the plot wasn't enough.

I needed to be smart about my moves.

Even after all these realizations, one thing remained the same:

I still couldn't hold the eraser for more than five seconds.

It was frustrating, but at least now I knew why.

Magic wasn't just about practice. It was about emotions, control, and understanding the limits of reality itself.

And if I wanted to master it, I needed to stop treating this like some overpowered fanfic and start treating it like a skill I had to learn properly.

The road ahead was long.

But I had time.

And I wasn't going to stop until I could move objects freely—before Hogwarts, before wands, before spells.

Because if I couldn't even lift an eraser properly, I had no business calling myself a wizard.