Christian looked around and saw countless stressed and anxious individuals from all walks of life and ages; he saw the elderly, women, children as young as 11, Muggles, two goblins, and a black-haired girl whose desk was surrounded by a shield. Still, even that did not stop people from looking at her due to her beauty.
'She must be a Veela,' thought Christian. 'But why are Muggles partaking in this test?' There was a section in the room labeled [Mortal Scholars], which he interpreted as how this period referred to Muggles.
Christian had no answer, and could not get one now, so he minded his own business. He had to wait another hour before the test finally started. An elderly wizard at the front of the lecture hall waved his staff, and a stack of paper and an enchanted quill materialized before the thousands of test-takers in the room.
'A quill? Wasn't that invented during the Middle Ages?' thought Christian as he watched the provided writing utensil. From the books he read, this period should be a reed pen — not a quill.
"You have four hours. Cheating will ban you from ever taking the exam," said the elderly wizard. "Now, begin."
Christian looked at his paper. On the first page was a rectangle with the written words (in multiple languages): insert registration card. He flipped through the test, and it was empty, so he followed the instructions. The page lit up before the information on the card appeared on the first page.
After turning the first page, Christian saw a question, so he flipped the exam again, and it was full of words in Greek.
'Alright, let's do this. Question 1: Define magic in your own words. That sounds simple enough.'
[Magic is the ability to project your thoughts or imagination to the world, thus bending reality on a small scale. It is….]
'That's not so bad,' thought Christian after filling up three pages for this answer. 'Question 2: Explain your understanding of the Spark Theorem.' Christian paused. 'What the freak is Spark Theorem? Moreover, a theorem, not a theory, meaning it has been proven to be true?'
He started to freak out, as the library might be the only place to find answers on how to return home. Otherwise, he might jump from one dimension to another for the rest of his life.
'Calm down, calm down. Even if Odin's Eye does not work, we can still create our own way home. Nothing can stop us,' he reassured himself before turning the next page. Christian answered his questions for the next four hours, ranging from magical theory about charms, transfiguration, curses, counter-curses, bewitching, and healing magic. He guessed on the ones he was clueless about and did not want to leave anything empty.
"Time's up," said the elderly wizard. "The result list will be posted three days later in all districts. You can check if you make it to the second round."
Christian walked out of the hall, not feeling confident. Besides that one geography test, he had never felt so unconfident about a test in his life. 'How is this system fair? People want to enter the library to acquire knowledge, but they also need to have a certain level of knowledge to get in?'
He understood why the library is so important. No magical schools exist in this era, so magical studies are taught at home or through teacher-student relationships. However, many wizards do not have access to a decent magical education, and the library is their only way out.
"How was the test?" asked Neos.
"Don't talk about it," replied Christian. "I'm going to brew some potion; please don't disturb me." Despite not feeling hopeful, Christian wanted to prepare for the second trial. From what he heard, it usually involved practice, so he wanted to brew more potions in case of an emergency. So, he brewed more Wiggenweld Potions, Blood Replenishing Potions, and poison cures.
Central Hall of the Library:
A young wizard carried the test piles and dropped them in the room. Two lights appeared from the ceiling: blue and green. The light scanned the test papers before separating them into two piles. An enchanted quill automatically corrected the blue pile, and individuals who worked in the library corrected the green pile.
"Come in," said a middle-aged man in glasses, sitting at a desk, focusing on his work.
"Director, there might be an issue," said the knocker, a young man with a heavy tan.
"A paper in the promising pile received a low score of 40."
"Huh?" The director finally stopped his actions to look at the young man. "How is that possible? Let me see." The promising pile was a system to detect promising talent. So, there was no way for someone on that pile to have such a low score, even if it was an 11-year-old child who had only recently awakened their magical powers; the grading system is designed to consider a person's age.
"The test contained many brilliant answers, but too many incongruities. It was like the tester was having a stroke: one moment, he was brilliant, and the next, he said a bunch of nonsense."
'Christos Makedon?' the director thought before quickly reviewing the paper, and it was indeed as the young man had stated. "Alright, you can leave. I'll deal with it." After thinking about it, he decided to inform the Curator, as such an anomaly was something the latter should be handling. The director headed to a room on the left wing.
"It's open," said a voice before he knocked. Unsurprised, the director walked into the room to see a young man feeding a cat while listening to music. He was not dressed like a mage with a long robe, but in white chiton with black sandals.
"Curator," saluted the director, showing his utmost respect and reverence.
"An anomaly appeared during the correction process." The director explained the situation while handing Christian's paper to the Curator. The latter stopped feeding the cat, sat at his desk, and read the paper.
After flipping a few pages, he thought, "Oh, he's a [Planeswalker Seed]. This explains the anomaly; magic works slightly differently in his reality than ours. I wonder which Reality he's from. It's looking like Reality 2, 4, or 7."
The Curator flipped through more pages, "So, Reality 7. I can't remember the last time one came here."
"S-sir?" asked the director, feeling his legs weak; he felt these were things he should not know. However, the Curator ignored him and continued reading.
"Interesting. Given his age, this should be his first shift; yet, his magical knowledge is remarkably advanced. Has Reality 7 finally found a worthy representative? Is there hope for the Unification?" muttered the Curator before shaking his head. Reality 7 has been the worst of all seven, and that is why people have given up on the final reunification. It was too late, and everyone was already preparing for another way out.
The Curator finished the paper and pondered briefly. He hesitated whether to meet this seed and talked to him. 'Let's see how he does in the other tests before meeting him. If he shows talent, I won't mind giving him a little help.'
He looked at the director and said, "His score is 88."
"So high?" There has never been a perfect score on the test, and the highest recorded score so far has been 93.
"The score would have been higher if he had not put too much of his own conjectures on the answers." The Curator corrected the test based on his own reality, but many of the things he said were logical and valid, although untested.
"Also, change the third test. We will add…"
"Sir, the Blood Crests families will not be happy about this change," reminded the director.
"So? If they don't want to accept it, they can leave."
The director walked out of the room. As soon as he did, he felt he had forgotten something important, but did not know what. He shook his head and headed to fulfill his order. Meanwhile, the Curator sat silently at his desk.
"You're too excited," said the cat.
"You know how much power the Veilbreakers have in Reality 7. So, it doesn't matter how talented this lad is — his fate will only be death."
"I don't know. I have a good feeling about this."
"The last time you said those words, the Planewalker Seed in Reality 3 died horribly in his fifth shift."
"I'm telling you, it will be different this time."
"If Merlin could not help Reality 7, you know they are helpless."
"You know his case was unique," rebutted the Curator.
"I just don't want you to get your hopes up and be disappointed," the cat said.
"Maybe you're right, but I still want to do something, even if it's just not to have regret."
"That's fair. So, what are you going to do? Accept him as a student?"
"No, he will have to survive at least three shifts even to consider him," replied the Curator. "I'll observe first, and if he meets my requirements, I'll give him a little aid."