Turns out school isn't useless after all. Who would have thought?
When I initially arranged for Petunia to enrol me in the local gifted program and its partnered schools, I had intended it to be more of a smokescreen for my no doubt rapid advances.
Instead, it turned out to be a significant boon in my quest to become the proverbial 'Renaissance Man'. Admittedly, the 'Renaissance' part is advancing far more successfully than the 'Man' part, but is that really all that surprising considering I was quite literally 'Reborn'.
Now bad puns aside, the simple act of being a student, even a homeschooled one, drastically reduced the time required to raise the skills associated with its curriculum. More important than the boost to some honestly very basic skills was the discovery of the EXP penalty on self-study.
And isn't that a bitter pill to swallow? All the skills I have been levelling up on my own getting penalised. And for what exactly, me being hasty in learning them?
Fortunately, it seems more a case of the penalty reflecting the lack of proper guidance. As on the flip side, there is a benefit to skill gain when under the instruction of an appropriate and qualified teacher.
A moderate one for learning in a classroom setting which combined with the lack of 'self-study penalty' means I can look forward to advancing my ability with formal magic at a rapid pace once I actually arrive at Hogwarts.
Much more relevant to my current plans however is the frankly broken benefits of learning from a tutor in one-on-one instruction.
So in a nutshell, the poor lady assigned to be my contact point and coordinator very quickly found herself swamped with requests to arrange everything from language tutors to violin lessons and most things in between.
Getting her to overlook the frantic and possibly ridiculous pace I set for new instruction does, however, require the continued application of 'Commands'. This despite muggles having no innate magic resistance, demonstrating quite clearly the volatile nature of 'Wild Magic' and its limited use for most long-term applications.
I may well have lost sight of the underlying goal of levelling up once I got started with amassing skills. Now don't get me wrong, my LVL did rise very quickly. I simply neglected to do anything with all the AP I was accumulating.
The combination of 'Sin of Pride' fanning my competitiveness and the sheer boredom of the routine I had been following left me in a lasting state of manic obsession. The thought of anyone being better at something than I was simply unacceptable, and if I have to forgo food and sleep to catch up, then that's just the way it has to be.
A good year is how long I managed to stick to this pace, for better or for worse. Until one day the debuffs to my stamina regeneration, which I had been ignoring all this while, accumulated to a point where my body simply refused to move.
The weeks of recuperation left me with ample time to ponder the nature of the 'Sins' and how they affected my behaviour. Where 'Wrath', the 'Sin' I had the most run-ins with up to this point, caused short intense outbursts of irrational anger, 'Pride' had a much more subtle influence on my behaviour looking back. Well before it sent me on a frantic self-improvement mission, that is.
Whether the degree to which the 'Sins' influence me is dictated by my own inclinations or their classification as minor and major, or maybe a combination, is frankly irrelevant. It's the loss of control that I just can't stomach. Not to mention the danger of spontaneously losing it in a potential life-or-death situation. Either way, the possibility of my major 'Sin of Lust' having an overpowering influence on my actions is a recipe for disaster.
The first time having the body of a prepubescent child has ever been an advantage, a blessing even. Just the thought of assaulting Petunia in some lust fuelled rampage is making me sick.
Fortunately Mother Magic provides, in this case, the magical discipline of the mind arts. On paper, 'Occlumency' doesn't seem like it would be of particular use to me. The effects of 'Gamer's Mind' render both the protection from mind-reading and the emotional control redundant. It would still be well worth learning it for the improved recall alone, but certainly not with great priority.
That was my reasoning until, of course, I realised that I need all of those things not against exterior threats but internal ones instead.
The library did contain a number of tomes on the subject, teaching your heirs and scions to at least notice an intrusion being the norm rather than the exception.
The initial steps beginners usually struggle with, the meditation to clear the mind and the construction of a mindscape, turned out far simpler in my case. 'Gamer's Mind' and my experience with my soulscape made the process all but trivial.
The ease of which did make me wonder about the clearly unique advantage my soulscape provides. Judging by all records on the subject, no prior wizard ever had the ability to visualise and interact with his very soul to anywhere near the extent I can.
Then again, it wouldn't be particularly far-fetched to assume experiencing death, followed by existence as a mere soul, undergoing rebirth and coming face to face with literal divinity would lead to some kind of insight or enlightenment.
That, however, is where my progress came to a grinding halt. Trying to erect your barriers without someone to probe them is like starting an arms race in a vacuum. There is just no measure to judge their strength.
Traditionally it seems the person assisting you with the process didn't even have to be particularly proficient in 'Legilimency' in fact in most cases their probes would be pathetically weak. How you would determine the strength of your barriers boiled down to how easily and quickly you would be able to deflect the probe.
Study in the mind arts beyond this basic level in 'Legilimency' would be quite the niche pursuit and even 'Occlumency' while generally of greater focus was only really trained by a rare few to anything higher than an intermediate proficiency.
Unfortunate then that several future threats and opponents Dumbledore and Voldemort in particular were highly knowledgeable as well as skilled in the mind arts.
Or maybe not so unfortunate after all. The squatter living in my soulscape was about to earn his keep. Whatever it was exactly Voldemort did to his soul to anchor himself to life, it left little more than tattered shadows in the objects he used for the purpose. The tumour-like mass was only really sentient in the most basic sense, boiling down to aggression and self-preservation. What it lacked entirely, however, was sapiens of any kind.
Unsurprisingly its reaction when poked consisted of striking back at the only available target in the only way at its disposal. And let me tell you, having your mind probed by even the pale imitation of a master Legilimens when all you have are barriers, the strength of wet paper towels is an agonizing experience. It is also, however, a very fruitful experience.
With the soul shard only able to attack my mind while I'm in my soulscape and initiating contact, the actual damage was minimal. Being able to pop out, rebuild my shredded barriers and having another go turns out to be an excellent way to power-level 'Occlumency' as well as build a solid base in 'Legilimency'. If only probing the tumour didn't feel like running face-first into a brick wall with a raging inferno on the other side.
That Occlumency reached [Apprentice] after completing its advancement quest made the whole ordeal worth it in the end. It does however all but confirm a worry I had since arriving here. Resisting 100 probes was always going to happen, but passing the milestone of resisting ten mind-probes of a 'Tier 2' caster implies bad things for Voldemort's level.
It stands to reason that if a broken off sliver of our resident Dark Lord counts as 'Tier 2' then the real deal simply has to be 'Tier 3'. Of course, we wouldn't want to forget about the 'only-man-he-ever-feared'. Isn't that a happy thought?
A genuinely happy thought is my mother's strength or her genius, though I like to assume both. Either her ritual was powered by some serious mojo or she was absurdly powerful for her 21 years.
Before ending my self-imposed isolation, that with the odd interruption to keep up the facade of the gifted student lasted for well over one and a half years at this point. This point being my seventh birthday. Now being an orphan presents are scarce for poor little me but not this time. Mother Magic herself has graced me with one of the best gifts I'm likely to ever receive. Namely, my first magical maturity.
Apart from the additional AP adding to the ones I have yet to spend a wizard's first maturity marks the point as of which casting wanded magic is deemed not exactly viable but at least no longer foolhardy. The theory as to how and why a wizard's magic undergoes a qualitative change on their 7th, 14th and 21st birthday is apparently hotly debated and fills shelves of tomes in the library.
Frankly, I couldn't care less.
Casting my first 'Lumos' with a wand, my father's spare, is exhilarating beyond anything the magnitude of the achievement warrants.
The things I can do with 'Wild Magic' are certainly more impressive, but they very quickly hit a ceiling in their power and the MP cost is downright absurd. Nothing would drive the point home faster than the ease with which my magic flows when casting a wanded spell.
Granted, a large part of that ease stems from the genius invention of some forgotten Egyptian or Mesopotamian guy - the wand. An equally maybe even more important aspect, however, is the way magic behaves when casting the two types of magic. Where wanded magic feels like coaxing a gentle stream into a pre-dug riverbed. The use of 'Wild Magic' is more akin to the attempt to bottle a fire that is fighting you all the way.
A sentiment mirrored in the few texts dealing with the phenomenon. They even provide a somewhat intuitive explanation for the difference. Wanded casting being the construction of a framework, through the use of chants and gestures and aided by a focus and conduit, in the fabric of reality causing a localised distortion in reality. 'Wild Magic' on the other hand is throwing a tantrum and reality giving in to shut you up.
For obvious reasons, the latter is much more energy-intensive while at the same time being volatile and fleeting. Not to mention for it to work on magicals you have to straight-up overpower their own magic, making it useless unless used by the strongest or against the weakest of magicals.
So while 'Wild Magic' and wandless magic appear similar on the surface, the former is simply brute force whereas the latter is the culmination of years of practice to the point the casting sequence has become ingrained almost instinctually.
You would think the obvious conclusion would be to start training my wanded magic in a mad dash to catch up to my eventual opponents. 'Pride' is certainly itching to go on another bender fuelled by the outrage at my perceived inferiority. With my mental barriers in place and thus a more rational outlook, I decide against it.
Disregarding practice in wanded magic entirely would obviously be foolish, but I'd bet good money that no amount of practice I could cram into these remaining couple of years would allow me to match two of the most powerful magicals of the century or even their more accomplished lackeys for that matter. The students and riff-raff of the magical world on the other hand don't require mastery level proficiency to overcome in the first place. I think my focus should be elsewhere, namely on more asymmetrical uses of magic.
With a quick inventory of the text available to me, I narrow it down to the fields of enchanting, ward crafting and ritual magic. Now there may well be more restricted tomes available, but they are locked securely in the Lord's study. The Lord's study, protected by some of the nastiest wards I have ever seen. The Lord's study that for some Merlin be damned reason contains the 'Cloak of Invisibility'.
In some absurd twist, my hasty order to retrieve all items in circulation belonging to the Potter family worked out wonderfully. The elves found the items in question and returned them to their rightful place. How they managed to return the cloak to a room neither I nor they can enter will remain a mystery since the elves don't have an explanation and neither can they repeat the feat to bring it to me. One of these days magic being channelled chaos is going to drive me insane.
Instead of dwelling further on the unobtainable, I refocus on what hopefully turns out to be the second major benefit of my newfound maturity - my animagus transformations. The last attempt being such a disappointing display only really leaves room for improvement.
An all-too-familiar surge of magic signals the transformation, and before I can properly process the bizarre feeling, I find myself staring at a much more impressive avian in the library mirror. Where last time I was covered exclusively in down now I sport a majestic plumage of violet and darkish red with a crest and tail of prominent golden feathers.
My vision and instincts too are sharper and with barely a conscious thought I'm enveloped in red-golden flames. One moment I'm in my corner of the library and the next has me witnessing the spectacular sight of the manor and its surroundings from what must be hundreds of yards above the ground.
The more primal feelings of joy from feeling the air rushing by only enhance my already brilliant mood at the growth of my abilities. This might be the first time I had genuine fun since waking up in this world. If that is what flying feels like, I can almost understand wizardkind's obsession with dodging cannonballs while riding cleaning utensils.
The more adventurous members of the hippogriff herd living on the land around the manor decide to join me in my rounds and dives as I put this new form through its paces.
Curiously they are remarkably friendly for me being a virtual stranger, only really observing them from across the lake but never having interacted or even approached them before.
I continue indulging in my newfound freedom for some time longer when a subtle tugging at my magic becomes much more urgent. Deciding to take advantage of my form's abilities, I use the origin of the feeling to anchor my trip and flame directly to it.
Merlin's saggy bollocks! Why the fuck is my library on fire?!
Not only are there multiple fires licking at the fireproofed bookcases, what looks like the whole contingent of house-elves is engaged in combat with dozens of pale-grey snakes with glowing red eyes. Engaged in combat and losing by the looks of it with two of the elves down for the count with obvious burns and bite wounds.
With a trill that seems to invigorate the flagging elves, I descend talons first on one of the snakes, about to finish off an injured Mipsy. Talons, eventually capable of injuring much greater serpents, bite deep into the slithering creature's flesh, pinning it to the floor. I finish the writhing intruder off by crushing its spine in my beak just below the head and watch as it turns to ash at my feet.
Before I can check on the downed Mipsy, two more of the creatures strike at me from behind. Lucky for me and unlucky for them the first bite fails to penetrate my feathers only bruising the flesh underneath. An injury almost immediately remedied by my phoenix regeneration. The second one's attempt to use its heat and flame failing even more spectacularly as I remain utterly unaffected by both.
Trapping the first one with a talon, I close my beak around its head and with a forceful pull rip the offending creature clean in two. This time unsurprised at the ashy demise, I stop a second bite by beating it aside with my wing and drive my pointed beak straight through the snake's brain.
With the immediate area clear, I shift back to human form. The phoenix might be invulnerable to their attacks, but is lacking the necessary punch to take them out before the damage gets out of hand.
A burst of 'Wild Magic' separates the two fighting groups, slamming the serpentine intruders into the reinforced glass of a window overlooking the courtyard. While using [Parseltongue] is almost certainly useless, as those are definitely not mundane snakes, it should at least complete my advancement quest.
"§STOP AT ONCE§"
[Parseltongue (Novice)] advances to [Parseltongue (Apprentice)]
…
[Parseltongue (Apprentice)] (Active/Passive) LVL 23/30
20 MP per min
Allow the user to communicate with magical snakes
Apprentice: Allows the user to communicate with and be obeyed by both magical and non-magical snakes
…
Huh, did it continue to accumulate EXP for the skill even though I couldn't advance?
My train of thought gets interrupted by some of the creatures lunging for me. This better work.
"§STOP AT ONCE§"
It's almost comical how four dozen snakes, a quick 'observe' identifies as Ashwinders, just fall to the floor stiff as a stick. They certainly are no longer a threat, but who am I to waste perfectly good EXP. A handful at a time, group after group gets crushed or ripped apart in a telekinetic grip, leaving behind an ever-growing heap of ash.
With the elves moving to contain the fire, I make my way to the two injured ones still lying unconscious. Mipsy is bleeding severely from a bite to the shoulder, and the other one has burns covering most of his left side. Hopefully, the phoenix continues to prove itself. Shifting into the avian form that caused the whole mess in the first place, I produce a tear for each of the injured elves.
Watching burned flesh stitch itself back together and previously deep lacerations close right up really drives home the absurd wonder elixir I now have access to. Unfortunately, if the almost soul-deep strain I'm feeling is any indication, I should probably use them at least somewhat sparingly. No reason not to bottle literal gold, though.
Putting out magical fire turns out to be a slow and tedious process. With the elves using their own methods to contain and extinguish the flames, it is left to me to take care of the continuous trickle of new Ashwinders spawning from the phoenix flames. Not that is much of a task, the tried-and-true method of parseltongue paralysis followed by telekinetic dismemberment proofs more than up to the task. And it did advance [Parseltongue] to (Adept) some of the 'snakes' the elves collected must have been limbless lizards instead, since the advancement quest required using the skill on ten non-magical, non-snake reptiles.
Speaking of [Parseltongue] didn't the Slytherin Perk provide the skill as well. I did want to finally spend my AP, no reason not to start by raising INT and CHA to the required 50.
Activated an inheritance by reaching the required threshold
(INT 50, CHA 50)
...
[Heir of the Founding House of Slytherin] (Active)
Heir by Conquest and Magic
Adds the Unique Skill [Parseltongue]
Affinity for [Ritual Magic] and [Potioneering]
…
[Parseltongue (Adept)] advances to [Parseltongue (Expert)]
…
[Parseltongue (Expert)] (Active/Passive) LVL 1/30
80 MP per min
Allow the user to communicate with magical reptiles
Expert: Allows the user to communicate with and be obeyed by both magical and non-magical reptiles
…
Wait, what? I think I found an exploit - please fix. Or rather, don't fix it. Ever. I didn't fancy scouring the grounds for lizards to converse with, and frankly a free (Expert) level skill is always welcome.
Let's see about unlocking the rest while the elves put the library back in order.
-oOo-
Arcturus BlackHe sighed deeply as he reached for the goblet of wine. Failing to suppress the grimace as he emptied the contents in one gulp.
Until the end, he had been too naïve, quite unlike the devious schemer his enemies portrayed him and the public thus perceived him as.
A man was not meant to outlive his wife, his children, or even his grandchildren. The bitter taste of remembered failure joined the acrid taste of wine as he revisited his mistakes, as he was wont to do.
The world had been so much simpler all those years ago with a clear enemy out in the open just across the channel. Despite the pain and hardship, the loss of friends and comrades, he couldn't help but feel that Grindelwald's war had been the best time of his life.
Newly married, a recent father and fighting back to back with Charlus and Harfang against the dregs of their society and the maniac pulling their strings. How he wished those days had lasted forever. But they hadn't all too soon they returned home, the maniac beaten by the charlatan all going their separate ways to nurse their scars.
That was where it all went wrong. They saw their task complete, their role fulfilled, and retreated into isolation to mourn the dead and recover from their injuries.
In their absences, however, the wheel kept turning their society was still in need of guidance and so others stepped into the role of leadership they had so foolishly abandoned.
By the time they emerged from the bubble of their station they were but strangers, outsiders in the wider community. The mudbloods pawns of Grindelwald's rise had become the dividing line, running like a great crack through the very bedrock of their society.
On one hand, the charlatan had cloaked himself as the great advocate of a more inclusive wizardkind propped up by his defeat of the maniac he sought to tear down the values that had been the foundation of their civilization for centuries and longer.
On the other, and in direct opposition, the very darkest members of their society the most bloodthirsty the most power-hungry the ones that only a decade ago had stood beside Grindelwald and his mudblood hoard for the mere promise of wanton slaughter started whispering into the ears of the young, the ambitious, of taking their rightful place. A place that by all rights they already inhabited.
That should have been his moment to act instead faced with a now unrecognisable community he left their delusions to fester. Fester until they reached his own roof. Until the sons he had paid far too little attention, married wives even more deranged than they had become.
Instead of nurturing at least his grandchildren, imbuing them with the values the House of Black was built upon, like he should have his sons, the only interactions they shared was the vigorous training he put them through. While sparring he could forget his Mel's death if only for just for a moment.
In the end, he failed them too. Half driven into the waiting clutches of the great charlatan and the other sold like so much cattle into the service of a creature spawned from unchecked ambition and need for wanton slaughter.
That was his last chance to see his sons for the rotten husk they had become to see their wives for the heralds of destruction they represented for the House of Black. He didn't. Too naïve. Too convinced of the values he had failed to teach his sons.
Had he been more aware of the depths of depravity his spawn had fallen to, he would have seen an attempt on his life coming far in advance. Alas, he always had a soft spot for family.
Now, however, his eyes had been well and truly opened. Far too late to redeem himself in the eyes of his ancestors but just in time to save what was left of his House. And maybe if the joyful whispers of the family magic proved accurate, the House of Black could yet be reborn.
He tried not to think of the agony he inflicted on his own flesh and blood. Having the wards turn on them was one of the more torturous ways to meet their end. A thoroughly appropriate one for the way they had turned on the House of their birth.
There was nothing he could do for his grandchildren. The Black name more harm than good as things stood. His grandchildren could have been great, every single one of them. All that was left was to hope that they yet had the chance to be.
Dorea always had been his favourite sister and Charlus his brother in all but blood. It was only right for their grandchild to continue both their families' legacies.
As he took his last pain-filled breath, he took satisfaction from having died by his own hand instead of his children's.
-oOo-With a flourish and a deep dramatic bow, I end the performance for the night, making my way off-stage applause ringing in my ears.
Winding through the cramped passages backstage, I duck into a recessed doorway and after a subtle use of [Mage Sight] stow my violin away in my inventory.
And to think the skill almost plunged me into an existential crisis about the nature of life. Just further proof that you can eventually get used to anything. My first venture into the muggle world after activating Ravenclaw's inheritance and thus granting me [Mage Sight] almost ended in a massacre.
Still keyed up from the tussle with the Ashwinders, I had forgotten to disable the skill after testing it, fascinated by the new perspective it revealed. Only to find myself in some overly realistic imitation of a house of horrors. Everywhere I turned on the streets of Little Whinging, doll-like hollow creatures lined the pavement. Moments away from attacking them, I 'observed' one of them. To reveal a regular run-of-the-mill muggle.
Turns out where myself and the creatures in the manor, from the Hippogriffs to the elves and even Petunia to a lesser extent blaze in a multitude of colours when using [Mage Sight], muggles do not. In fact, the only magic a muggle contains is what I have come to call the 'spark of life' - a dim greenish flame positioned over their heart.
It took me a while to regain my ability to act normal around them, even without the skill turned on. Just the knowledge, the awareness that muggles are so much less, colouring every interaction.
Ultimately, thinking of them as NPC helped me move on. Beings placed in the word to enable my progress. Unfortunately, the revelation put paid to the idea of supplementing the blood wards with further volunteers. With barely enough magic to sustain life, they would represent less than the proverbial drop in the bucket.
A quick notice-me-not cast with my father's spare lets me slip by one of my babysitters unmolested. For all that people seem willing to pay good money to and make money off my performances and competitions off the stage, they all too soon revert to treating me like the child I resemble.
Minutes later, I finally make my way out of the venue and still unnoticed by passersby decide to go for an evening stroll through the streets of London.
Starting in a reasonably affluent neighbourhood, it still doesn't take long to reach a somewhat more run-down part of the city. As I get further from the main streets, I find what I have been looking for. In an alley, separating two rows of shops, a lone homeless guy made his bed for the night.
Among all of my skills 'Devourer' remains the only one I have yet to try out and who better to do it on than a guy no one is going to miss.
Looking around, the few CCTV cameras in the alley are all covering the back entrances of some shop or another. Recasting the notice-me-not combined with the low light would be enough to render them useless, but it doesn't seem like that is even required.
As I reach out to pull back the topmost blanket covering the huddled figure, I have but a moment's time to reinforce my body before the knife I caught a glimpse of stabs me in the gut.
What is it with muggles catching me off guard?
More by instinct than conscious thought I wrench a loose brick out of the nearby wall and magic still coursing through my muscles bury it in the tramps head. Blood and brain go flying, spraying the front of my shirt and face.
"What is going on here?"
Are you kidding me, how can they get the jump on me twice?
Covered in blood and brain, half a bloody brick in hand, I must make a beautiful sight or not judging by the horrified expression on the guy's face. Turning to face him fully just as he steps out of the back door of some shop, I decide to not waste any more time and with a reinforced throw propel what is left of the brick right at the interlopers head.
I have to work on my awareness, combat and otherwise getting surprised by just regular people is annoying enough, but later on, that kind of mistake could get me in some serious trouble. Maybe it's time to look into learning a martial art or two, maybe learn how to use a sword while I'm at it. Really, most sports even would make for good practice when it comes to situational awareness. And it's not like any of those instructors should be hard to find in a city of this size.
By the time I reach the downed form of my second victim, he is barely breathing and rapidly bleeding out. No time like the present, I guess. I feel my magic reach out to the prone figure and with a brief tug, his life is extinguished. At the same time, vague recollections of his life flood my mind and for some reason, I now know how to gold-smith.
Huh, so that's how that works. On top of learning his most advanced skill 'Devourer' healed the shallow stab wound and restored the MP I used in the fight. Brilliant skill, if only it didn't have a year-long cooldown. Would have been nice to know beforehand but no use lamenting it now.
More importantly, there is a jeweller no longer in need of his wares.
I crush the CCTV camera facing the back door before making my way inside. Not the most impressive spoils for sure, but a gift horse and all that.
Making my way through the display cases, emptying them into my inventory takes only a few minutes and opening the small strongbox only takes a couple more. Sure, I could have used the combination, but why waste the chance to practise my more nefarious skills.
The surveillance footage is quickly erased and the equipment telekinetically crushed if the damage doesn't make it useless, the high concentration of magic definitely will. A flick of my wand later, I exit the now burning shop and levitate the two bodies inside before flaming away in a burst of golden fire.
-oOo-With a barely suppressed sigh of relief, I turn my back on the latest congratulant and slip a truly gaudy watch into my inventory before proceeding to wipe my hands as subtly as possible.
If there is one advantage to elevating my social circle to a more affluent demographic, apart from the excellent food, of course, it has to be the numerous opportunities to sate my 'envy' with all the fancy accessories they insist on parading around.
As it turns out, even with the help of now quite formidable 'Occlumency' barriers, the best way to prevent the 'Sins' from going out of control and me snapping as a consequence is 'feeding' them regularly.
Now being a guest of honour or even just a regular attendee to these extravagant get-togethers does have another purpose apart from indulging myself. Namely, distributing my own accessories among the country's elite.
They might be less ornate than some of the recipients are used to wearing, but only to the untrained eye, or rather the mundane eye. Through my 'mage sight' on the other hand, they are covered in intricate designs and delicate symbols downright gleaming with magic. In any case, it's not like they have the option of taking them off.
Jewellery enchanted with compulsions really is quite insidious as well as effective. And it better be considering all the trouble I went through to create them.
Things could have been so much simpler if I just had a more efficient way to mind control a large number of people. Unfortunately, with only 'commands' and compulsions at my disposal long term, complex and subtle behavioural modification is just not part of my skill set for the moment.
Now using compulsions especially assisted by 'Legilimency' would certainly be able to achieve the desired results. Too bad it requires repeated periods of prolonged undisturbed access to the subject for anything more than executing simple tasks.
Enter my handmade line of accessories. Enchanting them to be unremarkable to the wearer and others as well as for the subject to wear them at every opportunity was more a matter of repetition to achieve consistent results than any great breakthrough. Coming up with a way to include continuous behavioural programming on the other hand was a significantly more involved process.
In the end, it didn't amount to more than a handful of relatively simple suggestions. Two of which being to spread the word about the new child prodigy on the scene and a healthy amount of artificial enjoyment from practically everything I happen to be involved in, ranging from artistic performance to chess competitions.
The point, beyond stroking my own ego, being the spread of my creations into the halls of power. Primarily of Britain, but I wouldn't mind foreign leaders donning my chic. Hence, the two dozen flag pins the Prime Minister had been storing in her office for just such an occasion.
And that is really the whole purpose of the exercise. Getting to meet your local garden variety politician turned out to be laughably easy - no way would they ignore the opportunity to have their picture taken with a minor local celebrity, child or not. Without major national coverage, however, the top echelons remained frustratingly elusive. Too bad making national headlines is something Henry Evans could ill afford.
With no way of telling what kind of information could make its way back to the magical world, trying to stay under the radar at least to some degree seemed prudent. Thus, the word-of-mouth campaign.
Ironically, the biggest source of inspiration proved to be Voldemort himself. Or rather, his Horcruxes. True imbuing, the artefacts with part of his soul certainly provided a substantial boost to their power and longevity, one I couldn't replicate. My trinkets however didn't have to contend with the magical resistance of witches and wizards but rather simple muggles.
Thus instead of 'programming' multiple instructions for the wearers to follow, I instead designed my creations by imprinting on them a semblance of my will - not unlike the facsimile imprinted in magical portraits. Magic is majorly driven by intent after all.
Any time the subject faces a decision they are ever so slightly nudged into the direction most in line with my imprint. Now the obvious flaw of a subject being so opposed to the idea they disregard the nudge or none of the options furthering my goals is just something I have to put up with. Investing any more time into the venture didn't seem like the winning strategy.
The exception being the trinkets intended for the Prime Minister, the President across the pond and a couple of financial magnates. The latter are merely responsible for investing money I don't have in ventures that should see substantial profit in the short and medium-term.
After seeing so many events and conflicts playing out so eerily similar, I'm all but convinced that my future knowledge extends to more than just the canon plot. Now, do I actually need the money - no. But ignoring potentially substantial profits is just not something I'm willing to fight my 'greed' over.
As for the two political leaders, keeping them in office is their custom jewellery's first function. An ability they already demonstrated they are capable of. What toning down your euroscepticism and instead leaning harder into the anti-communist rhetoric combined with some good old jingoist appeals over recent victories abroad can do for your political longevity. Others in your own party and society at large being much more supportive thanks to my trinkets didn't go amiss either.
Frankly, if I could guarantee access to their successor, I wouldn't care who pretends to represent the masses, but since I can't, better to make them near-permanent fixtures at the helm of power. Where else would they fulfil their primary function after all - stirring the pot. It's a shame the Eastern Bloc is coming apart at the seams. So much for that particular bogeyman.
Chaos may be a decidedly rickety ladder prone to collapse out from under you at a moment's notice, but it is a ladder, nonetheless. There are just so many more opportunities for interference if tensions are high.
Probably not the best circumstance for the muggle on the street, but my trinkets won't last more than a decade, regardless. Should I not have taken advantage of the situation by then, I'm unlikely to ever do so. In which case, whether they prosper or slaughter each other to the last won't matter.
Enough, however, with pondering the ifs of futures that might never come to pass. With today being the last of June, we are rapidly approaching crunch time. Better get my head in the proverbial game.
Rarely has 'Gamer's Mind' been more useful, whether it's jitters or eagerness, I could afford neither. Good thing then they are all neatly packed away. The training, preparations and plans I made up to this point will just have to work stumbling at the starting line is simply not an option. The whole of magical Britain is mine by right and when I'm done, it will be mine in fact.
…
Henry 'Harry' James Potter (10)
Title - [No title equipped]
Level - 92
Race - Enhanced Human (Magical)
Tier - Regular [1]
Class - [No class equipped]
Alignment - Neutral Evil
HP - 2800 [560 Regen per Minute]
MP - 16000 [1950 Regen per Minute]
SP - 1400 [280 Regen per Minute]
Strength [STR] - 130
Constitution [CON] - 140
Dexterity [DEX] - 130
Intelligence [INT] - 160
Wisdom [WIS] - 130
Charisma [CHA] - 114
Luck [LCK] - 50
Points - 0
Money - £28,992.04
…