After concluding his business with the Greengrass family, Aiden returned to The Burrow.
He pushed open the gate and walked toward the front door, the faint sound of Ron's pained screams drifting from the backyard.
"Oh, you poor kid," Aiden muttered, making a mock sign of the cross in Ron's direction.
A familiar voice chimed in his mind.
[Ding. Does the host recall that he is, in fact, a wizard?]
Aiden ignored the system and sank into a chair, pouring himself a cup of tea. The house felt strangely empty; everyone seemed to be busy with their own tasks.
Not long after, Molly came in, dragging a thoroughly exhausted Ron behind her.
"Oh, Aiden, you're back," she said, her eyes scanning him up and down. Seeing no new injuries or signs of trouble, her tense expression relaxed into a smile. "How did it go? Did you finish your business with them?"
Aiden took a sip of his tea, but the residual solar magic from the treatment chose that moment to act up. He choked, and a small, startled puff of flame erupted from his mouth.
Aiden froze.
Molly froze.
"I hope," Molly said, her voice dangerously calm, "you have a very good explanation for that."
Ron, seizing his chance, shot Aiden a look that screamed, 'You deserve this,' and scurried up the stairs to safety.
"I swear, I wasn't causing trouble!" Aiden said quickly. "I just went for the treatment. It's the magic of the sun—it dispels curses, and it doesn't harm me at all." He gave her a brief, simplified account of the procedure.
Molly listened, then took out her wand and cast a series of diagnostic spells. Confirming that he was indeed unharmed, she let out a long sigh, her stern demeanor melting away. "Why do you always get involved in the strangest things? Forget it. I can't control you anymore." She found a chair and sat down, looking weary.
"It's not strange, Aunt," Aiden protested, standing beside her with an apologetic smile. "It's a legitimate treatment plan I developed with healers from St. Mungo's." He took off his hat, revealing the two small, dark horns.
Molly looked at the horns and sighed again, a deep sadness in her eyes. "Is this the destiny of the Prewetts? Damn him..." She cursed someone under her breath but didn't say the name.
That evening, after dinner, Arthur pulled Aiden aside, his eyes alight with manic energy.
"Aiden! I've had a brilliant idea!"
"Alright, Uncle, let's hear it," Aiden said, raising an eyebrow.
"Through my research, I've found that many components in Muggle cars are damaged by prolonged exposure to magic. So! Why don't we give the car a will of its own? We can solidify a permanent repair charm onto the frame, and the car's own consciousness can direct the charm to automatically fix any damage! We'd just need to replenish the charm's magic every so often."
Aiden frowned. "Uncle, giving inanimate objects a will... that reminds me of some rather unpleasant things."
"You mean Horcruxes, don't you?" Arthur said calmly, dropping a casual bombshell. "I wouldn't be that foolish."
"You know about those, too?" Aiden asked, surprised. "How does everyone seem to know about this stuff?"
"Don't underestimate our family's heritage, my boy. I put away all the books on the Dark Arts because I was afraid you were too young. But now that you have the Prewett family legacy, you should have access to similar knowledge." He grew solemn for a moment. "I must warn you, Aiden. Never split your soul."
The next second, his tone flipped back to giddy excitement. "Now, about the car! I've decided to add goblin-forged metal to the main structure."
"Goblin metal? You mean..."
"The very same!" Arthur declared. "Gold from Galleons, silver from Sickles, bronze from Knuts, and the rarest of them all, the metal once used to forge the Sword of Gryffindor—Mithril."
"But where are you going to get all that?" Aiden asked, bewildered.
"I'll refine it myself, of course," Arthur said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You mean the Weasley family knows how to forge goblin metal?" Aiden's eyes widened.
"Of course! The Weasleys were a major force during the goblin rebellions; it's not so strange that we kept a few of their secrets for ourselves. Your Prewett ancestors were involved too, you know. Who do you think was running those alchemy workshops for your family?" Arthur winked. "But that's a secret. Not a word to anyone."
Aiden looked at the man before him, dressed in his old, washed-out robes. This was a family that held the secrets to the wizarding world's coinage, a family that could have been unbelievably wealthy and powerful. Yet here they were, living humbly, laughing and joking in The Burrow. Aiden felt a surge of profound admiration.
"Haha! Look at me with more reverence!" Arthur crowed, his moment of grandeur instantly shattered by his usual goofy pride.
"Okay, Uncle," Aiden rolled his eyes. "Let's get to work."
Arthur produced the prepared Mithril. Aiden used his magic to melt the car's metal shell, pouring the molten steel into a furnace. Arthur then injected the Mithril, and the two began to forge, combining the metals before magically shaping the new alloy back into the car's frame.
"Won't adding the Mithril directly to the body be a waste?" Aiden asked.
"Not at all! This is exactly what I want. Pure Mithril is too conspicuous. By scattering a small amount throughout the frame, the car can withstand significant magical modification without revealing the secret of the metal. When we're done carving the runes, everyone will just assume our alchemy is what makes the car so magically resilient."
Arthur used a freezing charm to cool the frame, and Aiden took out a specialized carving knife.
"Let's use Mannaz (ᛗ), Nauthiz (ᚾ), Raido (ᚱ), and Ehwaz (ᛖ)," Aiden suggested.
"Hmm. Self, Need, Journey, and Partnership. Excellent choices," Arthur agreed.
Soon, the runes were engraved. "Alright, the final step. How do you plan to give it a will?" Aiden was deeply curious how his uncle would accomplish this without any innate mental abilities.
"Hehe, I learned this from Xenophilius Lovegood," Arthur said. "I hear it was the result of an experiment his late wife conducted."
Then, to Aiden's absolute astonishment, Arthur pointed his wand at himself and muttered, "Imperio."
Under the influence of the Imperius Curse, he allowed his own unrestrained will to flow out and into the car, imbuing the frame with a spark of consciousness. But it seemed Arthur had also endowed the car with his own mischievous, free-thinking nature.
Aiden leaned in to examine the newly sentient vehicle. With a loud bang, the hood popped open and slammed him squarely in the face.
He stumbled back, a network of shimmering scales having appeared just in time to protect him from a massive bruise. A dark scowl formed on his face as Arthur roared with heartless laughter beside him.
The two then spent the next hour modifying the rest of the car's components, creating a fully functional flying vehicle.
"By the way, Uncle," Aiden asked, "did you solve the problem of magic interfering with electricity?"
"No. Why would I need to?" Arthur replied, confused.
"Well, how are you going to start the engine or use the headlights?"
"With magic, my boy! We are wizards," Arthur said earnestly. "The electricity Muggles are so proud of is just one method of energy transfer. We have almighty magic. Why should we bother with their inefficient technologies?"
Aiden slapped his forehead. Of course.
Later that night, Aiden lay in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about his uncle's words.
[Ding. Do not overthink it. Utilize whichever method is more practical. Technology is inherently pragmatic.]
'I know,' Aiden thought back, 'but I can't shake the feeling that Uncle Arthur's method of creating consciousness has applications far beyond this.'
[Ding. Correct. What you witnessed today was the prototype of artificial intelligence.]
Aiden stared at the ceiling. "I've had far too many surprises today."
He rolled over and, pushing all thoughts from his mind, finally fell into a deep sleep.
***********
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