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(Arcane Tinker) Chapter 1: Mystical Induction
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 14:00:11 +0000 UTCAN: Alright, this is the first chapter of my new story, called Arcane Tinker (not sure about the name, and if you don’t like it, I don’t mind changing it). It’s a Harry Potter SI fanfic, and I'm uploading the first three chapters today. Don’t worry, Enchanting Melodies still isn’t over, and there will be a new chapter tomorrow. I’m going to do a poll in a few days about what to do next, and this is to give you a taste of this story and to get your opinion on it.
Chapter 1: Mystical Induction
4 June 1991, London, England
The summer sun was burning, which was unusual in Britain. Dean wished air conditioning were as popular in Britain as in America, if only for those few unbearable days in London where he felt he was being boiled alive.
At least he got to stay at home instead of going to school. He shuddered at the idea of being out in the glaring sun at the time. He had done well in school. He didn’t understand why people kept complaining about how hard it was. It was all so… simple.
The way he always got good grades without even trying hadn’t given him a lot of friends in school. The teachers kept getting frustrated by his constant bored expression in class, and his classmates envied how effortlessly he made everything look.
There were even talks about him skipping a grade, not that he really cared about it. As far as he could tell, students who skipped years were considered outcasts by their classmates and tended to do it with some missed information. Maybe he would think about it when he got to secondary school.
Oh, he knew that he would be accepted easily enough to a good school; the issue was whether he would get a scholarship or not. It was very hard to get one, especially with the fact that the budget kept getting slashed every year, with no signs of stopping. Things really didn’t look promising on that end, and Dean had promised himself that he would just go to the local public school and be done with it. As much as he liked the idea of going to a good school, he would not risk straining his mother’s finances. Things were already fragile enough at the moment. She already looked tired every day after work, just to provide for the two of them. The idea of her overworking herself even further left a bad taste in his mouth.
After all, the only reason he wanted to go to a good school was the idea of him providing for her one day, to see her smile without any trace of tiredness, to see her truly enjoy herself. He saw just how horribly the hours were at her job, and how little she was paid. She was a nurse who often worked double shifts, and the strain was evident on her.
Deciding to raise her morals a bit, Dean started to clean the frankly messy apartment and make a quick lunch for himself and his mother. She always came home for lunch during summer, and cooking wasn’t really that hard. At least, not the simple things. His mother had taught him, after all, and it wouldn’t do for her to return home and have to cook as well. She was already tired as it was.
Having finished, the eleven-year-old decided to spend some time drawing. He wished he could have materials to paint something properly, but a piece of paper and a pencil would suffice. Art really was a dying field, the world preferring the cold efficiency of machines and computers over aesthetics. In another life, he would have become an artist. It was one of the few things he was passionate about. He often imagined himself painting a beautiful landscape somewhere in the countryside. Unfortunately, the world’s appreciation for art has diminished greatly, and Dean had resigned himself to becoming some banker or something of the like. It would have been miserable, but he could help his mother this way.
Speaking of his mother, he could hear her keys clinking as she tried to open the apartment door. She often stumbled after a long shift, and this must have been one of them. He quickly ran to the living room and opened the door for her.
He was greeted with the exhausted form of his mother, who brightened the moment she looked at him, “Oh, Dean. Come give me a hug.”
Emma Thomas was thin, but her natural beauty shone through even after a long day. Her dark skin still glowed under the dim lights of the hallway, despite looking tired. Her eyes, surrounded by soft lines, lit up when she smiled, showing how happy she was to see Dean. A few curls had escaped her neat bun, adding a touch of softness to her appearance. Her nurse's uniform was a bit crumpled and showed signs of a busy day, but it was clear she wore it with pride. As she walked in, she straightened up just a bit, shaking off the weariness of her shift with a strength that Dean always admired.
To say that he loved his mother would be an understatement. His father had disappeared before he was born – Dean personally thought that he ran away – and she had raised him while working to provide for both of them, while she was still young. From the moment he was born, Dean was the centre of her world, and it showed. He only hoped that one day he could pay even a fraction back of what the woman in front of him sacrificed for his sake.
The young man just smiled and relented to her request, “How have you been, Mum?”
“You would not believe the day I had. Sometimes I think that some people are just born with half a brain.”
“Mum, I’m sorry to tell you this, but people actually are idiots.”
His mother’s laugh was one of his favourite sounds, and he always smiled when he heard it, “You’re right about that. Come on, let me make you some lunch.”
“I already did that. You looked tired last night, and I thought I’d do something nice for you.”
“I have such a charming young boy as a son. You know, if you keep doing this when you’re older, you’re going to make your wife a very happy woman.”
Dean cringed for a bit, and his mother’s laughter got louder. She looked around and saw the small sketch that Dean was doing, “Oh, this is beautiful, Dean.”
It was half a drawing of a flower, specifically a violet, which he had drawn absentmindedly, “It’s nothing…”
“It never ceases to amaze me just how talented you are.”
“Come on, mum, you’re making me blush here.”
His mother walked away to the living room with a smug smile on her face and picked up a few letters. This was his least favourite time of the day. Seeing the pile of bills that they both had to pay.
Her previous smiling face turned into a frown. She was probably calculating if she would be able to make ends meet and how many shifts she would have to make up the difference. Dean chose not to interrupt her; his mother liked to plan things out as early as she could in case some emergency happened.
A few minutes in, his mother opened up another letter, and Dean saw her eyes widening in shock. She paused, her breath catching slightly before a bewildering mix of emotions crossed her face. Slowly, she turned to Dean, holding the letter out with trembling hands. "Dean, it's from Eton," she said, her voice cracking with a mixture of hope and disbelief. "You've been accepted."
Dean suppressed the urge to wince. It didn’t matter if he got accepted or not at this place; the tuition fees alone were insane. He always imagined Eton being where the other side lived, spoiled brats who never had to struggle a single time in their lives. He remembered the other applicants during the frankly mindless exams that he had to face. Although he wrote a nice essay on the First World War, focusing a lot on the small political and economic triggers of the conflict. It was probably a bit more than most people his age would talk about, but he was bored and had a lot of time to spare. He thought that it would have set him apart a bit, but he fully expected nepotism to win, as usual.
He sighed, recalling the way some of the other boys had spoken about their summer vacations in villas and ski resorts, places he couldn’t even dream of visiting. It was like they were living in another world, one that he felt he could never truly belong to.
Now, the whole thing was coming to bite him in the ass. Being accepted in such a school meant that his mother would work overtime to put him through school, which he really didn’t like. especially with the discrimination he would likely face and the fact that he barely tolerated the rich kids in his class and didn’t think that he would be able to stomach a school full of them.
And yet, his mother wouldn’t see it like that and would work herself to death just for a chance that he’d have a better life. Honestly, he’d have preferred public school, but he knew that his mother wouldn’t budge, not with this. He’d need to deal with it in some other way, “I’m not sure this is a good idea. I don’t think we can even afford something like this.”
His mother chuckled, her laughter lightening the tension in the room for a moment. “Oh, Dean,” she said, shaking her head as she waved the letter slightly. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m not going to work overtime. I won’t need to.” She paused, ensuring she had his full attention, her next words careful and deliberate. “Because, my dear, I didn’t just apply for you to get in. I applied for financial aid, too. They’ve given you a full scholarship. Everything is covered. Tuition, books, even your meals and dormitory.”
Dean blinked, processing her words. A full scholarship? The realisation slowly washed over him, mixed emotions swirling inside. Relief, disbelief, wariness, “Mum, I’ll be away from you for most of the year. And I don’t think I’ll be able to fit in properly.”
His mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Dean, I know it's a big change, and it's normal to feel nervous. But remember, this is a chance to grow, to meet new challenges head-on. And as for the other kids, yes, they might be different from what you’re used to, but that’s part of the challenge, part of growing. You’ll meet all sorts of people in life, learning to navigate this is a skill you’ll use forever.”
She paused, letting her words sink in. “And about the discrimination,” she continued, her hand reaching out to squeeze his, “it’s real, and it might be tough, but it’s everywhere. At Eton, you’ll have a platform, a chance to stand up, to make a difference for yourself and maybe for others who feel just like you do. Maybe you’ll even be able to get another scholarship for your university. If you got one for Eton, maybe Cambridge or Oxford are the next step.”
“Mum, stop being unreasonable,” he whined without any heat, any sign of nervousness being gone from his system.
“Tell you what, why don’t I call work and tell them that I won’t be there for my next shift. This calls for a celebration. My son, at Eton… How wonderful.”
Dean gave her an enthusiastic grin. “Can we go to that Italian place we went to for my birthday?”
“Of course, honey. Now, go get dressed while I call up work.”
Dean jumped up, his previous reservations momentarily forgotten in the excitement of the moment. As he headed to his room to change, he could hear his mother's voice, cheerful yet firm, as she spoke to her supervisor on the phone. The buzz of her excitement was infectious, and Dean found himself smiling genuinely for the first time in days.
A few minutes later, they were ready, leaving their small apartment with a sense of anticipation. The evening air felt different, almost celebratory, as they made their way to the Italian restaurant, a place that held fond memories and promised new joy.
Eton was a good first step to a good university, and then a good job, so that he would finally ease things for his mother. The scholarship included all of his schoolbooks, his accommodation, food, and even his uniform. He would save his mother a lot of money, even if he saw her a lot less. He didn’t like that last thought, but put off saying anything about it when he saw his mother’s smiling face. He hadn’t seen her this happy in months, maybe even years.
He would do his best to keep it that way. He would make sure nothing ruined their night.
AN: I was hesitant when uploading a new story, in case you lot don’t like it. It’s pretty nerve-wracking. To be honest, I’ve been delaying it until I had everything planned out, but I decided to bite the bullet and go for it today, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Patrik
If you write it like this the mother is gonna die brutally that’s rule one of fiction happy mc means dead parents
Abe 7
Dean Thomas as SI? That is a new one. Looking forward to it.
