Author's Note: Hello All! I'd like to thank all of you who have mentioned some errors in my writing! I have rehashed and rewritten again and again this story over a little while and evidently caused some things to be missed!
Speaking of rewriting, I have also changed a major point in the story. I've made Riddle female as it is something that is not done all that often and it is something that I have struggled with. The story originally that I thought of had always been a female Riddle which would change much of the dynamic of the story. However, it also complicates it quite a lot.
The OC character is not one to let threats become dangerous to him and his and so having a male Riddle is one that can easily be countered as he can be killed before or during his Hogwarts years if he is found too dangerous to let live. But a female Riddle is a major divergent point for a character who is pragmatic and one that generally has an idea of things to come makes it far more interesting as it throw him off course.
I'm not certain yet whether Fem Riddle will 100% become a romantic interest as the story is still in evolution. I have a general path for the OC to take and Riddle will have her own. Whether or not they will intersect while they do their own thing remains to be seen.
UPDATE: 06.10.21 - Minor update to improve spacing and removal of redundant bits.
-Prologue-
He was sixteen when he was diagnosed Glioblastoma after he had gone to the hospital for disorientation, blurred vision and persistent headaches. He had laughed after they had explained his chances for survival. He had an aggressive form of Glioblastoma which in itself had been an aggressive form of cancer. He had at most eighteen months to live.
He could only laugh when they told him the news. After everything he had gone through, everything he had achieved in his short life despite the sheer disadvantages he was born with, everything he was set to achieve, Fate had given him a final fuck you and he found it sadistically comical.
He had been born to a poor working class immigrant family. His father was a violent, short tempered and bitter man and his mother had been a neglectful meek woman who never stood up for herself or for him.
One of his earliest memories was from when he was around two years of age. He did not remember what had led to it but he had been drug out from under the bed and his father had proceeded to beat him until he drew blood. By the time he had been four, he had fully realised that his lot in life was dreadful.
This had been emphasised when he had observed the way other children were treated by their families, in particular when one of the children had fallen down awkwardly from the swings and the child's mother had ran across and soothed the child.
That interaction had filled him with great envy and resentment. It was then he realised, he had no one and that he was alone. It had been sobering...and painful.
That had been the day he had sworn to himself he'd never need anyone and he'd rely on himself.
He sighed and opened his eyes. He had been awake for a while now. He was greeted with the sight of bland off-white tiled ceiling. He hated that colour. It had been the same colour the walls his childhood home was. Only cleaner. Sterile.
He has been permanently interred here for the last six or so months and it had only increased his despondency. He had long since accepted his death for he did not truly live when he had been healthy anyway. No...He hated the helplessness he felt. The need to depend on others that he loathed.
He closed his eyes momentarily and reopened them and cast his eyes towards the window. He had left it open last night. It was just after dawn. His room was located on the bottom floor – for ease of access – and so he had one of the better rooms.
The room overlooked the small park that was located at the centre of the hospital. It had given him small amounts of peace when he could gaze out, forgetting it all. Nature had always had a calming effect on him, even if it was so minute and manufactured.
Books had been his refuge. There were few books in the house but they had served a purpose; they had opened windows of possibilities and it had liberated him. It was from these books that he understood what his ticket out of the misery he had been born into. Power was what he needed. In all the different kinds of books, power, perceived or true, it had mattered not, was what was needed to have the reigns of your own future.
He knew that he had none of it and was destined to have very little of it in his life unless he worked towards achieving it. It had ignited a fire within him. He knew how to achieve it. He had always known that he was smart, he had seen the other kids struggle with things that he was capable of with ease. His path to achieving power was his intellect. He knew that it would be difficult, he had no wealth, he had no supporting family, he was alone. But it did not matter to him. Once he understood what being smart meant for him, what it could do for him, it had meant everything.
The two years prior to the start of primary school had finally erased any notion of childhood. His father had lost his job that he had held for eight years that year. With nothing to keep him out of the house, the abuse he brought upon him had increased in several factors.
He'd never given the man the satisfaction of breaking which in the end only invited stronger reprisals. He had learnt much about human nature from his father...the ugliness that hid between a facade of civility and decency. He had learnt to hide outward defiance, to school his face, to repress his emotions.
His mother had taught him the other side of humanity...the meekness...the helplessness, cowardice...the self preservation. She had never interceded on his behalf and he hated her more than he hated his father. She was his mother. She was supposed to care like those women he had seen with their children. He understood, even at five years old that she could not protect him, not really but she had never shown a hint that she cared more about him than she did about herself.
His books had shown him what mothers did for their children, that mothers loved their children. He had once asked her why she didn't love him and she had looked shocked. She hadn't responded. She simply looked away with shame on her face. He had stopped caring that day. It was easier not to care. Less painful.
When he had started primary school, it had come as a relief. He had arrived at primary jaded, cynical and cold. He knew the way his father treated him was wrong but he never raised the issue with adults.
If they couldn't see what was wrong, even when it was obvious, why should he go out of his way to get people to notice? The neighbours in the apartment block were aware that the man they saw, the friendly, hardworking man was not what he seemed but they never bothered to ask him.
He tore off his bedcovers and moved to get off the bed which was progressively becoming worse as the days went by.
He gritted his teeth as he struggled to put any strength into the task. Finally managing, he took off and made his way towards the bathroom.
As he entered the bathroom, he refused to look at the mirror and stuck to the task of brushing his teeth and proceeded to wash his face. He held his eyes closed as he lifted his head and used the towel to dry his face.
Steeling himself, he opened his eyes and a face that he had struggled to accept was his greeted him. He blanked his face and continued to exert control over his emotions because he knew that if he let up even a little, he would devolve into a deep melancholic state.
He focused on the vision before him and took it all in. his once handsome face has been replaced by an emaciated one. He looked gaunt; his cheekbones that always sharply defined his face, now seemed to be mountainous, as if they overlooked a valley, so deeply were his cheeks sunken in, only the musculature underneath the skin preventing a total resemblance of a walking corpse. 'Though in truth, being a walking corpse wasn't far off' he mused quietly to himself.
He made his towards the window and sat on the edge. There was an elderly lady shuffling her way to one of the benches. He sighed and leaned back, and closed his eyes, and let the sun's rays hit him, warming him.
When he had started primary school, it had been clear to everyone that he was a prodigy. By the time of the end of his first year, he had been recommended to testing out of his second year and enrolling into third year primary school. Luckily for him, his parents, despite being of the lowest of the working class cared about perception and had accepted on his behalf. It had been the nicest thing they had ever done for him.
His years under the careful care of his father had helped him immensely when it came to crafting personas. He had been required to decipher the mood of his father for his own good and his books had helped refine it. He had understood that perception mattered. People rarely looked beyond what seemed on the surface. And so, he allowed people to see what they expected, wanted, to see and what he wanted them to see.
For his teachers was the polite precious precocious student who worked hard to exceed their expectations. He was the polite, charming helpful child that helped their children to the parents. The kind of child that they were happy for their children to associate with, the kind of child they compared their own with. For the students, he was the smart but loner kid that would help them for a price. For the bullies, he was someone to avoid once they had learnt why it was a bad idea to provoke him.
He had taken every opportunity he could to learn as much as he could, as fast as he could so that he could earn himself a scholarship to an elite boarding school. He had focused on subjects that would help him towards the life he wanted. He had focused on Science, Programming, Philosophy, Finance, Mathematics, Literature and Science Fiction. He knew that extracurricular activities helped decide admittance and so he had joined the u11s football league when the opportunity arose and he had excelled as a midfielder.
He charmed, complimented, and helped his teachers, doing as much as he could to gain their favour and all his efforts had paid off when he had received his acceptance letters which had come when he was just nine years of age, as he graduated two years early from primary school.
He knew that his father may well decline his place at the boarding school, out of spite, faking concern for his wellbeing away from home, and so he had planned for it. He had discovered that boarding schools existed and he set himself on joining one. The primary school he had attended had a number of middle class children and he begun to target them to help him with dealing with his father.
Over the years, his father had avoided causing bruises and wounds where it could easily be seen. He had been disciplining him using belts and his back was frequently covered in new scars. They weren't deep, for his father was self conscious enough to not hit hard enough to dig into the skin but they were there.
His dark skin had worked against him as at first glance, you would not notice. Unless they were fresh at which point it would be obvious to see. And that had been the key to his plan.
During his time at primary school, he had begun to refine his manipulation and craftiness and developed a favour system among the children. It had been hard at first. There were kids who had ratted him out which he made clear was a bad idea.
He also made it a policy to not ask more than what they were willing to separate from. If they came to him for help for anything in particular, he would request something of roughly the same value of work he would be doing.
This had been what had made him more and more independent from his parents. It had allowed him to own things of his own, money of his own that he had used to purchase necessities.
One of the middle class students was particularly dense and was among the lowest ranked children in their class. It hadn't taken the kid long to come to him for help and he had given it to him. In exchange for borrowing the camera he had once brought to school, he would give him the help he needed for the entirety of the year.
It hadn't been easy to persuade him to give into it, and it had been a valuable lesson on how to approach certain situations, but eventually agreement was struck. And so, using his camera taking pictures of his back after beatings and lashings from his father, he managed to blackmail his father into agreeing to let him go lest he leak the pictures to the police.
He coldly smiled as he remembered the face of his father. It had been the first time he had seen him afraid.
He of course wasn't simply idiotic enough to believe this would be enough to dissuade his father from any further actions. He stated that he had left evidence to a number of people that if he wasn't heard of within a certain amount of timeframe; they would take the copies he had made to the police and suggest that he had been murdered.
That had been enough to keep his father in line and from that day, the abuse had died down to only verbal and pitiful psychological put downs and had given him the reprieve he needed.
He had accepted a place at a boarding school that was attended by some of the most affluent and influential families in the country. The first six months at this school had been miserable. He came from an immigrant background and he was the only black child at the school. There were a few Asians at the school but they had not sought him out and more often than not helped with the bullying.
The children in his class didn't like that he was younger than them and smarter, especially given that he was from a poor background and an ethnic to boot. He couldn't act in the same way he did with the bullies at primary school. These kids were far more powerful than the kids at primary were and they knew it.
It had taken him the better part of a year to get himself out of the situation he was in and to gain enough of a reputation that he was someone to respect and to be wary of.
One of the chief ringleaders in his year came from a troubled home. Nothing like his home life, no, the problem was that the father had a dubious sex life, separate from his married life. He had found this out when he had intercepted the boy's mail which had been from his mother that alluded to him that his father was in trouble.
It had given him the opportunity to manipulate the situation into his favour and simultaneously cast the boy down from his lofty position at school.
By the end of the year, the boy had been shamed and humiliated so badly that he hadn't returned for the following year and his friends knew that it had been him that had done it to the boy. They tried confronting him, which he had planned for and responded to each and everyone one of them with something he knew about them, some of which was just pure conjecture but he had enough evidence to insinuate things that made them back off.
From that point in time, his life had become substantially easier and he had been able to make acquaintances with a number of students. Just like what had happened in primary school, he had excelled in his studies and had been able to skip years as he tested out so that by the time he was 14, he was able to graduate from college and obtain offers of placements from the best universities in the country.
His time at the boarding school had given him a window into the life of the powerful and wealthy. He disdained them, envied them for the easy path that fate had given them but he never made it clear to them that this was how he thought.
He never came to them, they came to him. He knew full well that they knew that he was from a poor background but it hadn't mattered by the end because they could tell that he was going to achieve a great many things in his life.
He was charming, persuasive and utterly unflappable in the face of adversity. The teachers, if they had not favoured him for his intellect and the personality they all saw, at the very least respected his drive.
He often had been invited for events that the parents of these children had hosted and he had attended a few of them, as he was careful to ensure mirage of him wasn't broken, that he was every bit of the reclusive charming intellectual teenager that he presented himself as, and not the troubled, angry and poor teen that he often felt like when he was surrounded by the elites of society but buried deep while he gave false smiles, platitudes and empty gestures.
It had been useful that he had been able to gain a foothold into the consciousness of those people and it would have served well to build connections for the future, however much it grated on him to depend on them being able to provide the necessary capital and connections for the businesses he wanted to establish once he had the opportunity.
He had been fully aware that despite his intellect and achievements, there were still preconceptions and views many of those people had held and had voiced it and he gritted his teeth and manoeuvred around it all as well as he could have but he took note of the individuals who had done so. He had intended to let them know that there consequences for what was said.
His acquaintances that had been present had been nervous but he lied through his teeth, reassuring them that he understood while inwardly he seethed at the insults.
Atticus turned his attention to the display device that was currently unattached to him and was in the corner of his room and scowled at the reminder. He would never exact his vengeance on them and it was a bitter pill to swallow.
He chose to study Mechanical Engineering at Cambridge and had intended to follow it up with a Masters in Computer Science with programming at its core. He intended to specialise in Robotics and work himself into grabbing a significant market share in nascent automation technologies.
His time at Cambridge was far quieter and less interactive with the student body than his time in previous schooling. It had been pleasant in truth and it had given him access to people who were brilliant in their own right. However with the childhood and experiences he had with people, it made him unable to bond with anyone beyond acquaintanceship.
Throughout his life, he had never made nor wanted any friends, not that he had seen anyone worthy as an equal. Sure, there were people who were as smart as him, some even smarter than he was but his life experiences had been vastly different to all of them.
This had continued through his time at Cambridge. He had been younger than all of them but he had been able to get past this with his charms. He had even succeeded in having physical relationships with some of the women around campus despite the age gap.
It was the end of his second year in his three year course that everything came crashing down and everything he had done, everything he grafted and clawed for was for nought. It had left him bitter when he was told his condition and prospects. It had been sheer graft that allowed him to complete his studies.
He reached and grabbed his degree certificate and looked at the grading class that he had received. He graduated less than six months ago with 94%, a first class with honours. He had suffered through the treatments and was able to attend classes for the most part until the second term of his third year where he had been unable to leave the hospital. It had become more and more difficult to concentrate and it took everything he had to make sure his standards didn't slip.
He had elected to keep his condition secret from the rest of the class and the only people, outside the hospital and NHS, which knew of his condition, were the school administrators and the professors because they needed to know. He scowled and swallowed deeply.
It had been difficult, seeing their pitying looks and placating gestures that meant nothing, and he felt like he was five years old again as it had brought memories from the time when he was given the same kind of pitying looks as he turned up alone in the park again and again from a woman who had noticed but did nothing and said nothing.
The last two terms of the last year of schooling he had done while in the hospital. Luckily, he only had one exam to complete in May and it had been specially scheduled for him. He had, by that point already completed his dissertation/project and it had been a relief that he had a topic already picked and accepted at the start of his second year. He had been happy to at least finish one of his goals and it had brought relief and a sense of loss.
The location of the tumour had been dangerously imbedded in his neocortex which made brain damage a relatively high possibility. The surgery would have only extended his life and it would have only increased his quality of life slightly.
He had never accepted defeat in his life to the extent he had when he had refused the high risk surgery and had instead opted for the aggressive regime of radiation and chemotherapy. No matter what he did, his condition had been terminal. His life cut before he had the chance to succeed. The smallest mercy had been that he would die with his mind intact.
After what seemed like hours, he stopped staring at the certificate and he put the certificate down, lied back on the bed and not long afterwards fell promptly asleep
The next few weeks proved to be the very worst of his life as he barely had any energy available to him. On the day of his death that he knew was coming soon, he couldn't help but stare at the awful ceiling and think of the unfairness of his situation before he closed his eyes which had been wet and resulted in tears running down his face and accepted that he was going to die today.
He let himself go and slowly slipped into unconsciousness, knowing deep in his core that it was his last day alive.
-Break-
23th of September 1924
He came aware with a jolt; he gasped desperately sucking in as much air as he could. He felt strange; he had never felt anything like what he was now. He was bombarded by illegible noises and smells, and he involuntarily cried out in pain with the sensory overload. But the sound that had come out from his mouth was neither his voice nor was it an adults'.
He opened his eyes to find out what was going on but quickly shut them as the brightness of the room near blinded me. He focused on what he could feel and he could feel that he was being held aloft by something and that he was covered in some kind of liquid that was quickly becoming cold.
Before he could dwell on it, he felt something wash over him and the sticky substance was gone and now felt the full brunt of the cold. he felt himselfbeing lifted and carried by what seemed like massive hands and had been set on a smooth and soft surface and then he had been wrapped up by what he assumed was a blanket. He carefully opened his eyes and began to quickly adjust his eyes, blinking away, until his eyes had adjusted to the influx of light that entered his eyes. He began to see silhouettes of figures and began to feel overwhelmed by the disturbing presences. He tried to move his body but it felt unresponsive, the most similar thing he could describe it as was paresthesia.
He hated feeling trapped and that was exactly what he was. He cried out at the confused and terrifying situation he found himself in and that terribly high pitched voice came out which only made him more agitated which brought one of the figures closer to him and he began to see more clearly on what the figures were.
The one who approached him seemed to be a feminine figure and he focused on her face and could make out clearly that it seemed human. She lifted her hand and it had held some kind of thin stick or rod and it glowed in a purplish colour as it was pointed at me. He could feel something wash over him and he felt himself calmed and soothed to the point that he no longer felt agitated or afraid.
HE focused all his attention at the woman and could now make out what she looked like. She had strawberry blonde hair and light brown eyes with an oval shaped face. Her lips were moving and he focused on what she was saying. By now, he was adjusted enough that his senses were no longer overwhelmed.
"-e's healthy and he has been calmed. He was in a panicked state until I put him under calming and warming charms" the woman said.
'calming and warming charms?' he thought grimly. He knew from the very beginning that all the things that he had felt, heard and saw, there was only two conclusions that he could reasonably come to; either he was reincarnated and reborn or he was insane and he was suffering from a monumental mental breakdown that is giving him the most vivid and expressive hallucination that he have ever heard of.
While he was pondering which of his conclusions the correct one was, he was being lifted and carried somewhere and he refocused his attention to his current situation. The woman who had done something to him to calm him was carrying him as she walked to somewhere until she stopped and shifted him and bent over and handed him over to another pair of hands that held him delicately.
HE was brought closer and he looked up and saw a woman staring down at him with a soft expression on her face and loving expression on her face.
'She's beautiful' he thought to himself as he took in her appearance. She looked tired and haggard but beyond that, he could see that she was a beautiful woman.
Her face was heart shaped that was accentuated with her curly brown hair and the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Her nose was pointed and her cheeks were reddened which he assumed from the exertion that she was under.
Just as he was lost in her face, she too took him in.
Anne POV
"Hello there, my son. I'm happy to finally meet you." She said softly with an accent that he couldn't quite place.
She looked at him with a loving expression with an underlying hint of relief that lay below the surface.
She wasn't completely calm after the scare she had just experienced. Her little boy wasn't breathing when he had been born and it had taken what she felt like was hours, a few minutes in reality, for him to breathe on his own. This would be her last pregnancy as her body would be unable to carry another child in her womb.
This had been her sixth pregnancy and only her second successful one. Her daughter's birth had wrecked her body and it had taken years for her to successfully heal. Thankfully this pregnancy had been much easier and at the same time more difficult as it truly had been her last chance to give birth a male heir.
She took in his appearance and she could see black tufts of hair on his head. She looked at him and saw that his eyes were firmly on her as her eyes were firmly on him. She dangled her fingers in front of him and he was tracking it. 'A perceptive child aren't you?' she thought to herself amusedly.
*Knock* She looked up and saw the door opening and saw that it had been her husband that was entering. She smiled at him tiredly and he returned it to her. He looked as he had always done; well kept and handsome.
He had handsome aristocratic features, with high cheekbones and an angular shaped face that were accompanied with grey blue eyes and shoulder height midnight black hair.
"Hello Markus" she said softly before returning her attention to the bundle in her arms.
"Hello dear Anne" he said as he saw down in the chair by the bed. The room was decently large one, for a hospital one and it was in the private wing of St. Mungos.
"How are you and our little boy feeling" he asked quietly. She smiled at him and handed her baby over to him.
"We're both fine. There was a little scare when he wasn't breathing but he pulled through, like the strong boy he is. I felt so helpless when they took him away but it worked out in the end" she sighed tiredly.
She closed her eyes and leaned back into the bed. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at her husband and child.
He was appraising her boy with a gentle look and a small smile that could only be seen if you knew him. Her husband wasn't one that shows much emotion but he was caring man to those close to him and she loved that about him.
"Hello my son. You gave us quite the scare when you didn't breathe when you came into the world. But like anyone of my blood, you were strong and pulled through" he said with a broader smile that she seldom saw.
He looked at her "He has my hair and it looks like he will most likely have my father's eyes when they darken. He'll be a handsome man once he's grown" he stated with a chuckle.
She joined him with a small laugh "Well, considering his father is a handsome man himself there wasn't much chance of him not being handsome" she laughed.
"I haven't named him yet. I was waiting for you to come and name him" she stated.
Markus hummed and looked at their baby contemplatively. "I had intended to name him Henry but looking at him now, I think Atticus suits far better. What do you think?" he asked
"Atticus" she tried out, sounding it out and thought that it was a strong name. She looked at him and gave him a small nod "I agree" she said.
Atticus POV
"Hello my son. You shall be named Atticus Markus Sayre." his new father stated. That had been the last straw in what had been an unreal and tiring day that seemed to hit him again and again with revelations that he didn't know could be possible and promptly drifted off to sleep.
For the next few days, he had only intermittently been conscious and mostly during those times, had spent it being fed, changed by some of the staff or being held by his new mother and father.
When he had recovered to remain conscious long enough, he took the opportunity to review what he knew so far. He last remembered falling asleep until he found himself in this situation.
He had been familiar with the concept of reincarnation though he had never truly considered it to be possible never mind the possibility of being reborn in the world he was in and in the manner he had been brought to it.
In the last few days, things became a lot clearer and he had used the time to spend whatever time he was awake grasping as much information as he could and it only solidified what he had at first suspected when the information yielded confirmations.
He had been reincarnated in the wizarding world of JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. He knew that he wasn't hallucinating because the possibility of such vividness of his surroundings and the manner the people around him acted certainly made it all impossible that it wasn't real. And so he came to accept his new circumstances and all that came with it.
There were many questions he had and he suspected that there many of those questions would never be answered with finality and surety. He would likely never find out why he was reincarnated, at least with his memories, why the wizarding world and how it was possible to be reborn in what should have been a fictional world.
Those questions however would not take precedent as he had far more important things to consider and act upon in his new life.
His new parents were named Markus and Anne Sayre. From what he could understand, he had stopped breathing momentarily when he had been born and needed emergency intervention.
From the timescale, he suspect that was the moment he was awakened when he breathed his first breathe in his new body. he hadn't been able to see much magic performed, other than diagnostic scans being performed on him or warming charms but he could feel more than what he remember being able to feel in his last life.
He felt it when he was being held by his mother or his father. It felt instinctive and both of them felt different from each other but it had the same effect.
They both exuded an air of protectiveness over him which was an alien experience for him. He had been alone all his life and he had to scrape and fight to have what he had and it had left him cold, ruthless and melancholic.
He felt strangely comfortable with the both of them which might well be partly responsible by his infant biology. He certainly had never felt so lethargic in his life.
Rounding away from that train of thought, from his observations from the interactions that his parents had with the staff of St. Mungos, it was obvious that they were nobility and had garnered high levels of respect and deference from the staff.
It should make much of his life a lot easier, he muse to himself. He recognised the name Sayre and it taken him a couple of days to realise that it was the name of someone who had helped create a magical school in America. He couldn't remember if it was Ilvermony or Salem or some other school.
It boded well for him, in truth, as being born in an influential family would allow him to wield that influence in the way he want though that was only secondary to the most important thing, now, in his life.
Magic.
He was born, at least he hoped so – it would have been truly cruel to being born a damn squib – with magic and he could only feel a malicious delightful glee at the opportunity that was available to him now.
HE had read the Rowling books when he was a child. It was one of the most accessible series of books in his childhood and he had been gifted it by one of his classmates' parents for his 7th birthday.
He didn't like how much the disdain that the Potter boy had received from his relatives resonated with him but he had pushed past that along with the contempt he generally felt for the boy for his naivety and he had wondered at the marvellous world the series were set in.
It was fascinating and it had so much potential, depth and more importantly, for a child such as him at the time – one who had, very little of anything in any capacity in his childhood, there was POWER in the fingertips of people that drew him in.
There were so many paths to power and to grow magically that it sparked his imagination. There were many ways that should lead to immortality or at the very least an exceedingly extended lifespan and it should all be within range for those who knew how to seek it or achieve it.
Being born in 1924 was not a terrible starting point in truth. In fact, it may well be very advantageous as it meant that he was born before Riddle, before the war got bad with Grindelwald, before Dumbledore's rise.
It would give him the space he needed to grow and the paths of power and success were open to me, waiting for him to tread it and where others had faltered, he would not. He grinned wickedly to himself.
-Break-
Life as an infant was an experience that he hoped he'd never have to do again, not that he believed that it was likely. In truth, it wasn't terrible being cared for as much as he was but he loathed losing his independence. Atticus had to get over his feelings of indignity very fast when he was being fed from his mother's body.
It had taken a lot of time to get used to being Caucasian. He liked his previous ethnicity and had been proud of it despite the difficulties he had faced. It had been a bitter pill to swallow. Thankfully, considering his family, he likely would still be attractive, despite the change in ethnicity.
His emotions that Atticus had spent years in carefully repressing had been thrown out of balance. Atticus felt like a child, despite having an adult mind. Even so, very early on, he gained the reputation of a quiet but obedient child that hardly made a fuss excepting of course whenever he needed something at which point he brought attention to himself by crying out.
He knew that wizarding families were obviously far more used to odd things, things that stood out or did not make sense and so he had endeavoured to ensure that his behaviour did not attract unwanted attention upon himself.
He acted like a child which in truth with the manner his hormones and emotions were was not as difficult as it were.
Physically he was unable to say any coherent words, which likely would not feasible for a year or two and embarrassingly he had little control over his body.
The person who spent most of the time with was his mother. She was his constant companion and seldom let his caring go to the caretaker, a certain Ms Florence.
Ms Florence was a young lady, possibly in her late twenties or thirties and she had a kind disposition. She was not a beauty but she was attractive enough. She had a heart shaped face that had a soft feminine quality.
She had light brown hair and light blue eyes. Her role seemed to be predominantly a governess esque kind of role within the household. The other non family member within the home was Gerold Dayton who seemed to be someone who worked predominantly with the patriarchs of the family.
His mother's affections and gentleness had truly messed with him at the beginning. The intensity of his emotions, the hormonal body, it all contributed to difficulties reconciling in the way he was treated in comparison the way his previous mother had been and it had taken time for him to come to terms with.
She knew and noticed his discomfort and she had been extremely patient and kind in the way she dealt with him. Luckily, the fact that he was a baby masked much of the oddness that he was displaying and had been explained away.
Eventually, his discomfort gradually reduced as he spent time with her and the effort she put in. She oozed protectiveness and warmth in a way that made him think that magic had to be involved, was responsible for setting him so at ease once he allowed himself.
Her presence, being held in her arms, felt like a warm blanket. She would hum to him, often sing melodies in a language he did not quite recognise and it often soothed him to sleep.
Her affections and her care had taken time for him to get used to it but he did not hate it...he had felt a possessiveness over her and he was, for in the first time of his life, feeling warmth for another person.
In his infancy, his mother enjoyed taking him out for a stroll and he was thankful for it and made sure to give indications, expressions that he enjoyed it. From those strolls, he managed to get decent understanding from the home that he could call his now.
The Manor was grand, in every interpretation of the word.
The three story tall manor had a way of belonging to the earth it graced. It was seated upon an elevation that looked over a large mountainous forest to the west and south and a small lake to the east which gave an almost panoramic view of the grounds at the right location.
The Manor was secluded, nestled in between the surrounding nature, no other sign of civilisation for as far as the eye could see.
As his mother took him on theses strolls, Atticus could feel the presence the manor exuded as they walked at the edges of the grounds. Atticus could not truly understand it but it felt as if it embraced him, welcoming him to home.
The pathway from the entrance of the manor to the gate was flanked by a beautiful landscape; a variety of plants and trees that were masterfully arranged, which flanked the steep granite pathway that lead from the gates to the entrance of the manor which created a mirage of controlled wildness of the artificially arranged nature surrounding the manor.
Once inside, the scale and opulence of the manor becomes obvious. Decorated tastefully, the entrance hall was themed in whites, silver and dark green colours with wide curved stairs on the left hand side coming into view. The interior of the manor seemed as it if was carved from marble, for every section had marble stone with deep grey veins running through them.
The right hand side of the entrance hall led to a room through downward leading stairs which lead to the floo. The fireplace itself was located at the lowest point in the room which he believe was the intent as it would give any intruders a disadvantaged position to strike from.
Both this room and the entrance hall had suits of armour adorned on two sides of the room and they numbered by over two dozen. He had no doubts that it was part of the defensive wards of the manor.
The rear of the entrance hall leads to a massive room where the hearth of the home was located and where most of the guests and family would be entertained. In that room, the walls were decorated with portraits of ancestors and paintings of scenes, regions and battles. He wasn't sure but he had inkling that those paintings paid homage to our ancestors.
Apart from being carried around by his mother, he got to know the rest of his family more. He had an older sister by six years who was an energetic and pleasant girl who enjoyed spending time with him.
She shared their mother's eyes, the same shade of bright emerald green but she had their father's midnight wavy black hair. She tended to always have a book on her when she was with him and after coaxing her in an obvious manner, she began to read out to me.
She had a type of books that she always liked to read that were mostly wizarding stories that seemed to be about notable people in wizarding history. He enjoyed those sessions as it gave much relief of the monotony of his current situation until he was a little older.
His grandmother was named Marie and she had a slight Scottish lilt to her accent that he had noticed as time went on. It seemed that Sayre men tended to marry non-English ladies as he was certain that mother was of Eastern or Central Europe origin. She had blue eyes and vivid ginger hair that looked as radiant as the Sun at dusk.
She had a few grey stragglers in her hair and she didn't seem older than forty. Though given that he knew that Wizards and Witches lived far longer than muggles, he would not even hazard to guess how old she was.
He could see many of her features in his father Markus though she had a much warmer disposition than he did. She often accompanies him and his mother whenever she was around.
He didn't spend much time with the patriarchs in the first year of his life. He saw his father the most but even that was less than half of when he saw his sister. He met his grandfather Samuel and great grandfather Benedict when they had arrived from the hospital.
Both were stern faced though his great grandfather had a softer core to him than his grandfather. They both oozed nobility and aristocracy. In truth, it was blatantly obvious how hopelessly aristocratic they were.
Of the two, Benedict was the one who spent more of his time with him and from his interactions with him; he certainly noticed that he was more than just an infant as he became aware of his preference to be read stories. He had encouraged his mother and Ms Florence to read stories out to him more often.
Those early months of his second life represented a paradigm shift in his personality. As he continued to grow, he began to notice subtle but certain personality and behavioural shifts within himself.
In his old life, before his diagnosis, he had been cold as a result of his life and had grown calculating and remorseless in his pursuit of his goals and he carried a great deal of anger.
It wasn't an explosive anger; it was a cold anger that was always persistent within me. So far, the cold anger he'd always had was no longer within him.
He thought a great deal about this and he knew that it had begun to manifest within him at an early age when he had understood that there were people who would actively work against you and make your life difficult.
It had begun with his parents, continued by certain neighbours and perpetuated by so called peers during his academic years.
His cold anger had fuelled him, spite had drug him forward and vindictiveness had him enjoying setting people in their places and he had aimed to leave his mark on the world through his intellect and capabilities. It had been largely left simmering by the time of his death when he knew that he wouldn't achieve any of his long term goals and until now, hadn't gone into remission.
The main reason for the disappearance of his anger because of the sheer amount of opportunities that he now had in his new life and the choices he now faced in this life.
He had a great deal of options available to him than he ever did in his previous life and not only that; he had genuine power in his fingertips once he learned to wield it, to change reality to his whims.
He could feel hints of the power coursing in his veins at times, waiting to be unleashed with eagerness. He was born within a pureblood family that was nobility and this would effectively open any doors for him.
He would, with utter certainty, dedicate himself with the study of magic and become as close as he could to be the quintessence of magic, the greatest of the greatest of magicals in existence, in future or past, there would no denying him.
However he knew that there would be many challenges that he would need to overcome. In those early months where he had been unable to do much of anything, he was thinking on the events to come.
This time period was defined by a war that engulfed much of the civilised world. Europe was set ablaze with war, both in the muggle and the magical world.
Radical ideologies and rampant hatred devolved into violence and death that would result in societies taking decades, half a century from recovering. Grindelwald was the spearhead and the inspirational leader of the instigators.
He did not know what Grindelwald's ideology and movement was beyond knowing that it was for the dissolution of the Statue of Secrecy and for domination and oppression of the muggle world under the leadership of wizardkind, no longer hiding themselves and magic from the entirety of the world.
He held sympathetic views in some capacity to it. As a magical now himself, he was certain he could not be a squib, the status quo was not sustainable. But from what he knew of Grindelwald's character, Grindelwald's path was the path of a tyrant and mass murder.
He did not care. He did not care for the average magical and he definitely cared not for muggles. He had not cared for people in his first life. But he did care for the magical world, the creatures, the plants, and the general idea of a magical society and not the one he was born into.
He also began to care for his family and therefore he cared about the inanity that the wizarding world had tied itself with for it affected him and his family. And so, he would have to choose a path.
The most difficult path would be fraught with danger and a high chance of death. It is also the path of highest reward. It would be the path that gained him international acclaim if he became successful in his battles and missions, it would get him real life experience in deadly combat, he would be able to gauge the abilities of dedicated combat orientated wizards and witches and importantly he would be able to build what he wished to build on the acclaim he would gain.
The major disadvantage of becoming internationally acclaimed was that it likely would bring unwanted attention unto him which could have consequences later on.
He did not want rule the wizarding world in any capacity.
Everything he knew of it indicated a potentially dysfunctional society that would require far more effort than he was willing to put in and it would set targets on his back and his family's.
He was willing to provide the tools and knowledge for the wizarding world to aid itself but force was out of the question for him.
Acclaim would give him the platform he would need to meet people, important people who could very well useful in his plans.
He knew, to change the magical world, particularly magical Britain, it would require monumental effort that would ultimately was likely to fail. If he were to attempt to do so, he would likely be classified as a Dark Lord. He would be fighting centuries of prejudice.
But he could create a sanctuary of a sort as he felt no loyalty to the Isles. A refuge of people who would meet his criteria and help him build a society that could endure of the inevitable dissolution of the statue of secrecy, whether it was in 50 or 100 years.
Participating in this war on the side against Grindelwald would undeniably aid in his quest.
He knew that war between muggles and magicals would happen eventually as it was inevitable. He just didn't know how devastating it could be.
The upper echelons in some muggle governments have known about magicals and to think that they would not plan ahead would be considered folly.
Once it became public knowledge that magic exists and there are witches, wizards and all kinds of magical creatures among them, mass panic will occur. The human response dictates it so.
Excessive fear would lead to irrational, irresponsible responses and politicians and religious figures would only fan the flames. Exaggerated beliefs about the threat they posed would become common once the novelty of magic was worn off, the unnaturalness they represented, rooted in religious dogma and texts, and would become the rallying cry of those who would seek to capitalise on fear.
He had seen it before and history is littered with people who were marginalised or exterminated for one reason or another.
However, this time, if the magical world does not navigate exposure in the best possible way, which even then may not be enough, the actions of the muggles would be far beyond anything they had ever done before.
Mutual Assured Destruction and rare sensible individuals had been the only things that had ensured that world wasn't engulfed in nuclear winter and setting the next great dying off, perhaps the very last one.
It could not be guaranteed that rogue elements of governments wouldn't set off nuclear weapons in regions that they identified to home significant numbers of magicals.
Witch hunts would become exponential and experimentation on children would become accepted, just as experimentation on Blacks, Jews and so on had been accepted during various stages of recent history.
In order to be capable of shifting the magical world on the scale he wished to, he would have to be someone of influence, of enough stature and clout, he would need to be extraordinary. And for that, he would have to take active participation in war as it was the easiest and most direct route of entering the public consciousness.
The problem however was Grindelwald himself.
He held no illusions that he was facing an insurmountable challenge to match Grindelwald at an age of 19 or 20. If he remembered correctly, Dumbledore and Grindelwald were born in the late 19th century, meaning that by 1945 they'd be in their sixties or so.
That meant that they would have over 40 years of experience and knowledge on him, while at the same time being magical prodigies. Dumbledore was said to be unparalleled in transfiguration and Grindelwald was said to be someone who knew an incredible amount of dark magic, so much so that he had been expelled from Durmstrang because he was using magic that even they considered too dark.
For him to be able to match Grindelwald, to exceed him, would require him to achieve almost insurmountable level of magical capability. Grindelwald also wielded the Elder Wand. It was an uphill battle.
The easiest path, and simultaneously the path of obscurity, was to ignore the war and stay far away from it. The war as far as he knew had been going on for decades until it was ended in 1945, meaning many members of Grindelwald would be hardcore veterans.
The combined forces of ICW and liberators would eventually defeat Grindelwald's movement and Dumbledore would eventually defeat Grindelwald.
It would mean his path of having enough influence would become more difficult as Dumbledore would fill the shoes in the public mind that he wanted to occupy.
The impressions that he had gotten of Dumbledore from the books, despite being child friendly, seemed to suggest that he would not become an ally for the beliefs he held, despite him not wanting a war with the muggles in the first place, and having Dumbledore as a political enemy, the man who defeated Grindelwald would be something that he did not need.
If he stayed out of the war, then it would mean that the chances are that events would play in the same manner as they did in canon and Dumbledore would eventually get off his perch and defeats Grindelwald.
That thought soured greatly. From everything he had read in his previous life, Dumbledore defeating Grindelwald had cemented his legacy and was held in reverence by the wizarding world, at least in the British Isles.
Dumbledore was someone was ill suited for the amount of influence he wielded and he had wielded it so poorly.
He held deep rooted beliefs that had alienated a great many of the establishment which ultimately lead to the easy radicalisation of much of the British wizarding world. That is not to say that the war that Riddle instigated wouldn't have happened down the line. Riddle however was the catalyst, their chosen leader.
Dumbledore was someone for all his self doubt and mistakes, was arrogant and self righteous and had made decisions on people's behalf and kept counsel only to himself, irrespective if it was his place or not.
He recognised that much of the honour was heaped onto him and he had fitted himself be the voice of supposed reason however he had never wielded it in the way he perhaps ought to have.
The magical world, after Grindelwald's defeat was primed for another great war as the issues within the magical world had never been resolved to a successful degree.
The growing influence of muggleborns and half bloods within the magical world was something that the old pureblood families couldn't abide by and only needed a leader strong enough to challenge Dumbledore agenda and magical power.
In truth he believed that it had been a dying breed of magicals who sought to increase their power through murder and terror hiding under a veneer of so called preserving their culture and traditions.
Dumbledore was unquestionably perceived as the epitome of the light, the man who was their champion, a half blood who could not relate to the darker and greyer factions of Magical Britain. he supported equalisation of rights within magical world as he believed that merit and accomplishments mattered more than the circumstances of one's birth.
Strength only added to strength for the most part. This was a notion that he would be hard pressed in conveying to the purebloods. That normalisation of relationships with muggleborns did not have to mean discarding tradition and culture.
From that defeat of Grindelwald, Dumbledore within a decade had managed to gain insurmountable amount of influence within the Wizarding World in the form of Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump.
He wasn't one of those people who believed that Dumbledore had taken those roles with reluctance. Dumbledore had adopted 'the greater good' and twisted it for his own purposes. He had acted consistently for his version of the greater good for the wizarding world.
Dumbledore was said to hold beliefs that muggles were equal to wizards and he in some respects agreed to the notion in an ideal world whereby prejudices and so on did not exist and where wizards and muggles were simply humans who may or may not have some additional abilities.
The problem was that the human psyche did not work like that and for all the advancement, tribal elements still had heavy roots in society. He had fully intended to exploit those elements but with magic at its core. That hope, that belief in the goodness in people falls short as he should know.
Humans have biases, they have preconceptions and more importantly they are of the beliefthe top of the food chain. Once it becomes discovered that there is a society, or a collection of societies, that are capable of bending reality to their whim, of bending the minds of people to what they wish, there would be massive societal unrest on a unprecedented scale.
Wizards similarly would refuse accepting the notion of muggle equality after all, it was only a few generations that the vast majority still lived in squalor and hunted magicals.
It was only a few generations ago that the majority of the world was illiterate. Even the most ardent supporters of muggles would still have some prejudice against them, in some form or another.
Isolation and regurgitated beliefs being taught to one generation after another would do nothing to dispel those notions.
He knew that he would have to campaign hard to let everyone see the true danger of muggles and how dangerous ignorance was for the survival of the magical world. Atticus did not know how much Dumbledore knew of the muggle world.
He did not know what the man was truly like, he would see soon enough but he had severe doubts on the man's character no matter how well intentioned he may be, if he is at all good intentioned.
He wasn't certain how he would deal with Dumbledore. Dumbledore was a great actor and he would need to employ every single skill he had learnt in his previous life to determine Dumbledore's true character.
He knew that his bias at this moment was coloured from what Dumbledore had put Potter through. The things that Dumbledore had done, and had alluded to doing, were at the very least purposefully neglectful from his point of view.
The books don't say explicitly that Potter had been physically abused but there was clear evidence that he was starved at the very least and it deeply resonated with him. Dumbledore reminded him of all the people who had some idea of what was happening with him and did nothing.
Dumbledore was worse too considering it was because of him that Potter had grown up in that environment and had used his position and influence to effectively hamper Potter in almost every way possible. Atticus believed that the Potter that came to Hogwarts had served Dumbledore's plans well enough and that he perhaps even hoped for it.
He had understood that Dumbledore was in a difficult position, especially regarding the prophesy but he had taken on too many leadership positions for him to have time to help Potter close the gap between him and Riddle.
In the end, he had to rely on Potter's luck, veracity of prophesy and self sacrifice to ensure the death of Riddle and it had come at a steep price as much of Magical Britain was in ruins by the end.
He wasn't certain if it was his paranoia on overdrive regarding Dumbledore but he wanted to make sure that Dumbledore wasn't as influential as he was in the Wizarding World. That kind of power within society corrupts and it was plain to see that occurring when Potter was attending Hogwarts. Not only that, it was clear to see that he favoured stagnation.
All of it began with the defeat of Grindelwald and that made him lean towards joining the war and attempt to eliminate Grindelwald himself.
The other thing that he had to consider was the matter of Fate and Prophesy. In the Harry Potter universe, they are a very real thing. Would he be making things worse if he interfered and would Fate over correct by making a worse future than the one he knew could happen?
Those considerations also apply to the matter of Riddle. He held no qualms over killing but killing a child who had not committed the atrocities that his elder self could or perhaps would...made him somewhat uneasy.
He would, without any doubt kill him before Riddle got to Hogwarts should his concerns prove to be valid, that Riddle was a nasty piece of work ready to be turned into a monster once he is unleashed on the magical world.
He knew that environment played a key role in determining the character of an individual but you could not cure psychopaths and those with violent dispositions could only be locked up which wasn't an option in the magical world.
Psychopaths who were raised from infancy by those who knew of their conditions, who actively worked towards ensuring that they were well raised and with morals, are often the only ones were not a danger to society.
In some ways, he was disappointed that he wasn't born earlier as he could have had the opportunity to raise the boy himself and perhaps curb his psychopathic tendencies.
He did not understand Fate. He did not know if Fate was a mechanism that would interfere in some form or another if he created ripples too large to ignore.
He had read many theories on time travel and the nature of realities, though he had never expected to truly have cause to question it all, and some had proposed that time and reality would want to shape towards the path it was originally meant to follow.
Was the prophecy that marked Potter the equal of Riddle predestined? Or was it a consequence of something needing to be done and magic had answered? Would he and his family become a casualty in that war if he positioned himself to kill Riddle and ensure that the future is shaped as canon?
He had many questions that he could not even remotely answer. He remembered that Riddle was conceived under a love potion and was born from a witch or near squib that had died from heartbreak.
Was Dumbledore right in saying that Riddle was completely incapable of love? He himself had never felt strong positive emotions such as that but he knew he was capable of it but he had never allowed it to develop nor did he have anyone that had earned it.
Riddle may well been the same but had been, and allowed himself to be, pushed into the corner he found himself in, due to no small part by Dumbledore, though he did not absolve Riddle.
He knew he could be cruel and ruthless but he never got a thrill out of it. None had his ire to that degree. He himself did not have adult role models in his life. He had found solace in his books and had found role models from the myriad of book characters.
He resonated with Riddle, just like he resonated with Potter. All three were from similar backgrounds yet they were all of different inclinations. Potter had been beaten into accepting that he was lesser and everything about him stemmed from that. Sacrificing himself for those who he cared for without doubt or planning for an alternative was directly rooted in a damaged individual.
Potter was psychologically damaged from his time with the Dursley's and Riddle had been validated that power trumped all and he had seen evidence from it all during his time at the orphanage either from his actions, the actions of his fellows, from the actions of the matrons and staff, he had seen it from Dumbledore and he had seen it at Hogwarts.
But the main difference between the three of them was that only Riddle had propensity towards evil. He killed a harmless girl with the Basilisk, he murdered his father and grandparents while he was still a teenager despite being largely innocent since he had been effectively mind controlled and raped.
Then the things that had been alluded to that he done when he was an adult...and the things he let his deatheaters do...
He could wash his hands off the mess that Riddle was and it would likely result in little consequences for him. It was not something that he was comfortable with however.
It did not guarantee that events would play out the same way it did in canon. The introduction of Atticus would irrevocably change events.
Not only that, Potter had some serious plot armour and it was pure luck that the war ended before the year 2000 and that the muggles hadn't discovered the wizarding world with all the deaths that had been occurring.
He knew he could not base his understandings on the book series too much for it had been a book series written for children. It was very clear to understand that the magical world was full of wonder but also full of danger and terrifying things.
Humanity has the capacity to be truly cruel and monstrous and adding magic into the equation? Well...
He wondered how much would ring true now that he was living the wizarding world. He had no doubt that the magical world had extremes and the darker side of magic no doubt would be capable of acts of evil that he was hard pressed to find in other worlds.
In any case, he had no doubt that he was a natural Slytherin and would be headed towards the snake pit unless he specifically convinces the hat to not sort him there. He had no desire to be involved in the political games the mini psychos would play and he considered that despite Slytherin not having the same stigma as it would have in the future, it presented more problems than he wished to have.
For one, he would not have the freedom of movement he wished to have. He would ensure that he was at the top of the class and it would grab attention in the snake pit which would begin all the annoying manoeuvring.
Not only that, he had no desire to have Dumbledore on his back. Atticus believed that Potter was placed at the Dursleys for reasons beyond Potter being raised away from the fame, beyond Potter being humbled, beyond Potter being raised unknowing of his family legacy.
Dumbledore was wary of Voldemort's equal and much of what he did, such as the Mirror of Erised, was to evaluate the nature of Potter.
Potter had all the power that Voldemort had, supposedly, and that made him dangerous and so Dumbledore did his best to nurture Potter in a way that made him harmless.
Gaining Dumbledore's attention was not something he wanted – though he knew that it was likely he'd have it – but gaining his attention while in the pits would be problematic. It would be a point of attack by Dumbledore.
He considered simply joining Slytherin and to see if he could change the culture of Slytherin but it would be difficult to do unless he was the head of house and had generations of students pass through the house.
They would respect and fear his strength but it would not cause fundamental changes to their beliefs unless he constantly attacked them with logic and evidence. If he joined, he was only a couple of years older than Riddle which meant he would have direct contact with the boy if he let him live that long.
He would never allow himself to be intimidated like the rest of the Slytherins were. That could very well set him on an antagonistic path with Riddle. On the other hand, his introduction could well change him. Atticus was no fool. Riddle hated Dumbledore but he also respected his power.
Being neutral towards to him while showing himself to be powerful but not a threat unless he was acted against may well work and perhaps shift him from the path of destruction and violence he was walking towards. He had no doubts that Riddle was going to be ambitious and power hungry regardless of what he did.
There were many things to consider and in all truth he had considered washing his hands off the matter and simply focus on becoming the greatest wizard of all time...but he had grown...possessive of the family he was born into. There was no reason to do both.
Undoubtedly, the events to come will undoubtedly have an impact on the family. He could not leave them. It had brought a concern to him. He had many things to deal with and things could very easily become overwhelming without support.
He would need allies, he would need a support base. Not only that, he could not keep counsel to himself. Hubris ruled Dumbledore and it had caused far more damage than should have been allowed.