Timothy Daniels grew up on the outskirts of Leicester in a wizarding household that was always buzzing with enchantments. His mother, a muggleborn Healer at St Mungo’s, and his father, a Magizooligist, filled his childhood with stories of spell craft and magical creatures. Despite being wizard born, Timothy also spent much of his early life around Muggles too, as his mother insisted that he attend a muggle primary school like she did. There he made a close friend Aaron, a Muggle boy who admired Timothy’s eccentricities without ever suspecting their magical roots.

As he grew, Timothy's magical ability developed alongside his incessant curiosity. While rummaging through his grandmother's attic at age seven, he discovered a battered old book filled with strange symbols. These turned out to be runes, and from then on he was mesmerised. Ancient Runes felt like a secret language older than even Hogwarts! He filled notebooks with copied symbols and half-understood meanings, each new discovering fanning the flames of his new found passion.

By the time his Hogwarts letter arrived, Timothy had dreamed for years of exploring a place where magic and history intertwined, and on the September the first he had his parents arriving at kings cross station well before 10am unable to curb his excitement.

Timothy’s First Instance of Magic was when he was four years old. His father had been reading to him before work, and realised he was going to be late so got up to leave. As Timothy realised what was happening he throw his arms out in frustration and every book on the living room shelf burst into the air. They hovered there for several seconds, flapping open like startled birds, before collapsing in a heap around him. His parents were both relieved and amused. His father spent the rest of the evening picking up books and laughing about how they will be waiting a while before they visit a library.

Timothy Daniels always loved visiting his grandmother's house. I was always warm, and she was usually baking something. The study smelled of old parchment and magic. Real magic, that quietly hummed in forgotten drawers or dusty corners. He could wander the hallway for ages, admiring enchanted knick-knacks that had belonged to generations of witches and wizards.

The house itself looked ordinary from the outside. White walls, trimmed hedges, and a windchime by the door. Timothy would often need to be dropped off here by his mother if she was called away to the hospital for an emergency, but he didn't mind.

On one such weekend when Timothy was seven, his grandmother called to him from the living room. "Timothy, be a dear and pop up to the attic. There is a red photo album in there with some pictures i want to give your father."

Timothy perked up instantly. The attic was his favourite room at Grandma's house. It was an adventure. With a determined nod, he raced up the stairs to climb the ladder and push open the creaking hatch.

He started with good intentions, checking the shelves and cracking open a few boxes... but after a few minutes of not finding the photo album, he was inevitably distracted by the other fascinations of the room. He found old potion bottles, a broken wand that he waved for a moment with no result, a brass telescope with three screws missing, which he placed to the side thinking that if he could find the screws, he could fix it. He also lifted open a particularly dusty box to wind a faintly snoring set of chess pieces, and he carefully closed the lid so as not to disturb them.

He squeezed around a tall stack of trunks, but as he did, his elbow clipped the top one.

The whole pile started to wobble.

"Oh no... no please..."

Despite his plea, the whole pile came down with a dramatic crash. Dust exploded into the air, leaving Timothy coughing while he hurried to right the mess. As he lifted the smallest trunk, something slid out from beneath it and landed on the floor with a soft thunk.

A thin, leather-bound book. It looked faded and cracked with age, but barely legible on the cover were the words "Spellman's Syllabary".

Wondering what a syllabary was, Timothy knelt on the ground and flipped open the cover, causing another small puff of dust to drift upwards.

Page after page of strange runes. Some were straight and rigid, others swirled like vines. Some had tiny handwritten notes beside them. Timothy felt a thrill run through him.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, completely forgetting about the photo album.

The runes were unlike anything he had seen. At first, they made no sense, but Timothy was the sort of boy who loved puzzles. He traced each symbol carefully, flipping back and forth between the pages. He noticed repeated shapes and patterns. The longer he looked, the more connections he began to see. Certain runes grouped together, or were never seen side by side. The small notes throughout the book marked emphasis or motion.

His eyes suddenly snagged on a page halfway through the book. It contained three rows of neatly labelled runes in ancient, faded ink.

"Elder Futhark" Timothy whispered aloud. He left the book open on the floor, searching the piles for the scraps of parchment and quills that normally could be found in the attic, before returning to the book.

Running his finger down the page, he studied the grid, finding the runes he wanted.

"Tiwaz, Isa, Mannaz, Othala, Thurisaz?"

He frowned, thinking hard, searching the grid, but there was no 'Y'. The notes suggested using 'Isa' as it represents all i-sounds including the long "ee" sound.



His name. Written in this secret magical script. His chest filled with pride. This wasn't like the magic he had watched his parents do with their wands. This was older. Deeper. Like uncovering a piece of the world that others had forgotten existed.

Timothy didn't realise how much time had passed until he heard his grandmother shouting faintly from downstairs.

"Timothy? Did you find it?"

"Oh!" he scrambled to the hatch, clutching "Spellman's Syllabary" to his chest.

He climbed down the ladder, dusty but determined. His grandmother looked up from her knitting and raised an eyebrow.

"That's not a photo album."

He held out the book and scrap of parchment reverently. "I... found this. And I think I worked out how to write my name in Elder Futhark!"

Her eyes softened with a mixture of surprise and nostalgia. "Well now, you must take after your great-grandfather. He made a study of runes. Now you give me that, you can read through it when you've fetched my photo album."

Timothy ran back upstairs, determined to find the photo album. Determined he would unlock more of the ancient magic waiting for him below.

Once at Hogwarts Timothy was sorted into Ravenclaw.

After receiving directions from a prefect he had insisted on finding the dormitory by himself. Once there he met @Rose Pearce and the two became friends.

As soon as he could made his way to wind the Ancient Runes classroom in the hopes of finding more pieces to the puzzle. Here he met Professor @Akinyi Odera who encourages and helps Timothy in his pursuit of knowledge regarding Ancient Runes.

A few weeks into his schooling Timothy was on his way back to Ravenclaw tower when he feels a pulling and finds himself in an odd classroom he had never seen before talking to a professor he didn't recognise.