Chapter 8: Awakening of Memories
Location: London, Stoke D'Abernon, A245 Cobham Road
Inside a dark, empty classroom at Parkside School, a ten-year-old boy with striking silver hair slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. His irises were golden, gleaming with an unnatural luster, and his features were unusually handsome for a child his age—sharpened muscles beneath smooth skin, a noble bone structure, and an otherworldly charm that made him seem almost ethereal.
As disorientation settled in his mind, he thought to himself, Am I alive… or dead? Was that all a dream, or was it real?
He scanned the entire classroom in silence, searching for any clues that might ground him in the reality he had awoken to. After a thorough look, he found only one remarkable thing—a beautiful bird perched quietly nearby. It shimmered in hues of blue and gold, and it was watching him with what seemed like deep affection.
Before he could react further, a sudden wave of intense pain pulsed through his head. He clutched at it as if trying to stop the overwhelming ache, but a flood of information poured into his mind—memories, thoughts, fragments of who he was. Once the chaos in his mind cleared, he muttered aloud, "Ashton Willson… My name is Ashton Willson."
He sat up, blinking again as memories began to form more clearly. What was I doing in this deserted, dark classroom? he wondered. And why is there a bird with two colors just standing here like it belongs?
Moments later, fragments of his most recent memory returned to him. Apparently, he had always been a bit of a mystery to those around him—curious, observant, and a bit mischievous. Earlier that day, he had been trying to record a video of some older boys as part of a prank or investigation. But what he captured on video was far more serious—those boys had been harassing a younger girl.
Attempting to sneak away undetected, he was spotted by some of the perpetrators. Panic surged through him, and he ran, eventually hiding in this very classroom. But they weren't so easily deterred—they began combing through the entire floor in search of him. When they reached the final room—this one—his fear and anxiety surged to such a peak that something incredible happened.
Accidental magic erupted from him.
A wave of unseen force blasted outward, throwing all the boys far from the doorway and knocking them unconscious. Inside the classroom, as the magical shockwave died down, a strange fire ignited in Ashton's chest—a blue and golden flame that spread through his entire body, drawing in his magical energy as it grew.
Then, as if being born from his very soul, the magnificent bird appeared. The blue and gold phoenix had emerged from within him.
He collapsed.
Upon awakening and recognizing the creature, his jaw dropped in astonishment. "A Phoenix… It's a damn blue-golden Phoenix!"
Looking at his right wrist, he noticed a glowing flame-shaped mark in the same colors as the bird. It pulsed faintly, like a living part of him. He stared at it for a while, mesmerized, before turning back to the phoenix. A strange sensation filled him, like he was somehow connected to the bird—deeply, spiritually.
When he focused his mind, he heard it speak—not aloud, but directly into his thoughts.
"Master… Master… Give me a name ~"
Stunned, he blinked. "Wait… I can hear it? I can… talk to a Phoenix?"
Excitement bubbled up inside him. "I'm its master… This is way crazier than I ever imagined."
He stood up, gently picked up the bird, and smiled. "Your name will be… Nemo."
As soon as he spoke the name, Nemo let out a soft, melodious song—a song that warmed his soul and made every cell in his body feel at ease.
Feeling comforted, Ashton opened the classroom door and saw the three older boys unconscious in the hallway. He didn't linger. He quickly left the school, but not before making sure that the video he had captured was delivered safely to an honest teacher.
As he walked home, memories continued to resurface. He realized something extraordinary—he had a photographic memory. Every detail, every conversation, every moment, he could remember perfectly.
His parents' names came back to him—Anthony Willson, a doctor, and Erlin Willson, a lawyer. He was their only child, and he remembered now that he had been born on July 31st, 1980.
He stopped mid-step.
"Wait a second," he whispered to himself. "Isn't that… Harry Potter's birthday?"
A wide grin spread across his face. "Oh, hell yeah! I'm going to Hogwarts—with the Boy Who Lived!"
Excited by this realization, he finally arrived at his home. The gate bore a bold sign: "The Willson House."
He stepped inside slowly. The house wasn't extravagant, but it was warm and comfortable—a perfect family home.
Just as he closed the door behind him, a sweet, familiar voice called out, "Ashton? Is that you?"
Without hesitation, he answered with a warm smile, "Yes, Mom."
A surprising happiness welled up inside him. Is this because I didn't have parents who loved me in my past life? he wondered. As those thoughts passed, he began to remember all the moments his current parents had given him their love and care, doing their best in every way they could.
He felt something wet roll down his cheek. When he reached up, he found tears.
His mother appeared in the hallway, eyes widening in concern when she saw him crying. She rushed over. "My dear! Why are you crying? Did something happen at school? Did someone bully you?"
He shook his head with a small smile. "No, Mom… It's nothing. Just something in my eyes."
His mother still looked worried. "You scared me, sweetheart."
He smiled softly in reply.
Then she noticed Nemo perched on his shoulder. "What's that on your shoulder?" she asked, astonished.
"It's a bird," he replied casually. "I'm going to keep it as my pet."
She studied the bird with wide, curious eyes. "It's beautiful… But what kind of bird is that? I've never seen anything like it."
"It's a rare type. Don't worry about it too much."
"I'm heading to my room. Bye."
Once inside his room, he sat cross-legged on his bed and slipped into deep thought.
First, he told himself, I need to understand my powers. What kind of abilities do I have? I can talk to a Phoenix… That has to mean something. After all, I'm Merlin's incarnation. Surely I have more abilities.
I must learn Occlumency too. I need to shield my mind so no one—Snape, Dumbledore, Quirrell, or even Voldemort—can read my thoughts. With my photographic memory and Merlin's soul and bloodline, it shouldn't be too hard.
And all of this… I have to master before September 1st.
He glanced at the calendar. His eleventh birthday was just around the corner.
Any day now, I should be receiving my Hogwarts acceptance letter.
And with that thought, the room fell into a quiet, expectant silence.
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