"Fresh fruit fer only ten shillings!" a voice bellowed out as he walked through the stalls.
He was in Cambridge today. He looked around and saw a reduced number of food stuff being sold. Rationing had begun in January. Farmers weren't permitted to kill their animals without permission and fruits such as these would dry up very soon as they would also be rationed in a few years.
He was in Cambridge to meet Derek Saunders, the muggleborn who would start his business course soon. Muggleborns weren't allowed to participate in the war and this was something that was harshly enforced. They were all given 'medical conditions' that would effectively remove them from conscription.
Atticus walked up to the man selling fruit and brought out his coins
"I'll have a bag of tangerines sir" Atticus said politely.
"Good man!" he said enthusiastically as he begun to bag a number of tangerines and weighed them on the scale. "That there'd be ten shillings sir" the man dressed in worn clothes and who wore a tweed flat cap said in a strong Cambridgeshire accent.
He gave the coins and the man looked at him oddly "Yer have strange eyes, anyone tell ya that?" he asked fascinated and Atticus laughed "I hear all the time. My mother said my eyes decided blue was too boring" he said with a grin.
The man laughed keenly and bid him goodbye. He made it out the stalls and went towards the pub that Derek would meet him at.
Many in Diagon have closed their shops but a few were stubborn, including Ollivanders.
Some relocated entirely in the new emerging district in Godric's Hollow. In truth he was surprised how successful the argument was for moving away from London given how central London was. The Alleys were all there, the Ministry was there, the train had to be taken there. It was central to nearly everything.
But with the bombs that threatened much of it, the Ministry was taking it seriously. In truth part of it was the fact that the previous minister was ousted for failing to take the threat of Grindelwald seriously.
Minister Spencer-Moon was elected on a electoral campaign that promised that Grindelwald would never touch the Isles. Not exactly Churchill but it worked for him. The good thing was that he would do anything to ensure that and failing to act on a Seer's prediction and proof that muggle weapons could destroy much of London from the memories would get him ousted quickly if it ever leaked.
His father told him that the Department of Mysteries had been given the task to develop wards that can protect against muggle weaponry. That had spiked his interest.
He was always going to develop new wards; he intended to develop wards that could withstand nuclear weapons. Wards as they are now are incapable of dealing with other forms of energy. Fire was negated magically by the wards and was snuffed out but the heat generated by the bombs was not protected against. This drained wards and when you added the kinetic energy, it destroyed he wards. The wards negate or withstand magical energy. They do not withstand the immense kinetic energy and heat released by bombs.
Even siege wards are insufficient to deal with the kinetic energy that bombs release.
That meant wards would have to be constructed from an entirely different perspective.
Funnily enough, it would suit him well to figure it out considering that he intended to see if other forms of energy could be changed into magical energy. It would open up unimaginably large avenues of research and development.
In any case, nuclear weapons were something he desperately wanted a defence against. Their destructive power and the radiation they release. Thankfully this would be something he would investigate much later on. He would travel to the US and steal the knowledge from the scientists who are or will be working on the Manhattan project.
In any case, meeting in London was no longer an option. The Daily Prophet had released their warning and advised everyone to leave London for at least the duration of the war.
Godric's Hollow was already a hotspot for many to move to. His father had purchased some land from the muggles for the businesses the family owned and would rent the buildings that are being constructed out to them.
So meeting at Cambridge was decided to be the easiest route. He arrived at the pub, The Pickerel Inn. He grinned at himself as he recalled that Tolkien often frequented or will frequent pub, he wasn't quite sure. He had read the books in his youth and he had been in awe of the man that was capable of creating such a world. Though he would not base much of his works from Tolkien, he would however try and surpass the grandness of Minas Tirith on his island.
He got a beer from the barman and made his way towards the back of the pub and found Derek there waiting on him.
"Derek" He said evenly.
Derek's eyes widened and got up "Ah Atticus, good to see you" Derek said happily and extended a hand which he shook.
They sat down and Derek got straight to the point "Your message was quite vague" Derek said pointedly.
He nods "It was. I have a second farmhouse that can settle some of the more...vulnerable muggleborns and squibs. I do not have the time to organise it myself but I have with me a number of tasks for you to complete. I have a number of elves that will aid you" he simply stated.
Atticus had met with Derek and Sandra a few times since that meeting and had built a rapport with them. They were competent and he wanted to bind them closer to him as time went by. He would increase their responsibilities, beyond simply the companies he intended to create. For now, he would continue to test them and meet with them to increase their loyalties and believe in him.
Derek is quiet for a time before he nods slowly "I can do this." Derek sighs and drinks from his pint before he turns serious. "There are a number of muggleborns who aren't able to afford to leave London and I wouldn't be surprised if it is the same for squibs." Derek said as he mused loudly "I can reach out to them and offer them this second farmhouse. Where is it anyway?" he inquired.
"It's in Devonshire. It can house quite a few people, hundreds on the land at least, perhaps four dozen or more in the house itself. It is maintained by elves but when it comes to food, there will be a requirement of them purchasing it themselves. Or any of them are capable in herbology, perhaps plant food themselves" Atticus shrugged.
He brought out a dossier that had information that would aid him in this task "Here's the information you will need." He states and Derek grabs and runs a quick skim over it "I start Cambridge in October, I won't be able to maintain this the whole time" Derek warns.
"I'm aware. If things go as they should, you won't be needed there the entire time. I expect perhaps thrice a week in the evenings and the mornings at the weekend. Determine which of the muggleborns that stay at the farmhouse is competent." He paused as he considered his thoughts "I will always need more people later on so if you can figure out which ones are reliable and competent, make a note of it. We will invite them at a later date. I'm sure many of them would grab the opportunity I'm presenting them with open hands" he states simply.
Derek nods "They would" he sighs "Not many of them are doing well in the magical world. There are few jobs that are available and many don't have the capital to start their own companies and the ones that do...they effectively work as employees at their stores as purebloods invest and effectively take over the business from right under them" he said with real anger before he visibly calms "I'm sorry, I'm just pissed at the fucking bullshit" he sighs.
Atticus simply nods. It was a common occurrence. The only muggleborns that were treated at all decently were women who married purebloods. Muggleborn men were shit out of luck mostly.
In the grand scheme of things, it was a minor thing if he saved a few hundred squibs and muggleborns.
He had far too much magic to learn, to experiment with to become bogged down with insignificant people...which was why he was offloading it to those who had a true stake in the matter.
It was harsh but it was the truth. His efforts were abstract and large in scale and he couldn't be bogged down by giving much for little to no return.
He would gain goodwill yes which would make it easier to get them to work for him as he built up empires in both the muggle and magical world.
Much of the workforce wouldn't be needed to believe in him or his dreams.
At least not yet.
Shared experiences did a lot to get people to believe in you. If they believe in you, believe that you are one of them even if you truly weren't, then that meant you had their hearts and minds in your hands.
But to get them to believe in you, you would have to inspire them, to believe in the dream you're selling. For now, there wasn't a huge problem. Muggleborns may be discriminated against in the magical world and find jobs difficult to find but they didn't need to worry about their safety.
Not quite.
Purebloods on the other hand were wildly varied. 32,000 magicals existed in Britain.
Of those 32,000, roughly 14,000 were purebloods and of those 14,000, only 500 are older than three centuries. Of those 500, only 120 families are or were ennobled in some fashion. Of those 120 families, 50 to 70 families held 96% of the wealth of the country. His own, even though they had money in a number of overseas banks, held 17% of the total wealth of the country.
It was mindboggling.
That meant that there were over 13,000 purebloods along with thousands of half bloods that weren't exactly better off than muggleborns given the small size of the economy.
Of course perhaps a quarter of those 13,000 were little more than hedge witches and wizards and didn't partake in the wizarding economy.
Those hedge witches and wizards had isolated communities all around the country and often were farmers. The Greengrass family employed many of these people to farm magical plants for their ingredients business.
With the lack of diversified economy, that didn't have much of an entertainment sector or a industrial sector that resembled anything in the muggle world, that meant that the availability of jobs were severely limited and explained why the ministry employed so many people.
It also explained why the ministry was so bloated and corrupt. Efficiency wasn't needed, employment was and so over the centuries, a culture existed that didn't value competence beyond a certain degree in certain positions, and one that favoured nepotism to secure the future of their family members.
It was tragic.
The Alleys represented nearly all of the employment that didn't go into the Ministry, it was that concentrated. The evacuation of London was a logistical nightmare and also why some owners didn't close up.
The evacuation was temporary for now and they aim to return in October. They would observe the damage caused by the bombings to see if the evacuation was even needed in the first place before they would decide on any long term strategy.
With such a concentration of work in London, with such limited jobs available, friction between the different blood statuses would naturally flare as blame would be assigned to muggleborns and muggleborns would rage against the injustices they face in the magical world.
Perfect storm for civil war conditions. Which is where he would come in.
With the plans he intended, a massive global magical corporation, there will be a large requirement of a workforce needed to produce what he expected would become highly popular.
He would be able to employ many of the fringe peoples of society to produce items for the rest of the world.
That was a part of his plan to get people to believe in him.
Dumbledore was able to influence the entirety of the magical world by positioning himself extremely well after the victory over Grindelwald. He was a saviour and people adored saviours and would forgive a lot of things and accept their word above all others.
He would seek to position himself in that fashion without the political angle. He knew that he needed politics, after all life was all about interaction and you could not interact with people completely without some form of politics but he would position himself not through politics.
As a war hero, as a highly educated and intelligent individual, as a powerful magical, he would have a lot of sway in many things. He intended to use this sway to gather people to his cause; the cause of a magical country free from muggles. Of course he would never make it clear to anyone until he actually done it but he would need capable people that he could delegate things to.
Derek Saunders was one of them. Sandra Kilburn was another. His friends weren't useful to him beyond their social stature. They were smart kids but they didn't have the mentality he needed in his fellows.
He would sponsor individuals to attend muggle school or get apprenticed in a branch of magic and have them work for his companies.
He had two options; begin collecting competent individuals, regardless of blood status at Hogwarts which was problematic because he was under the nose of Dumbledore and the man could derail everything if he wasn't extremely careful. The other option was to do it after Grindelwald where his popularity would be at its highest if he defeated Grindelwald. Even if he didn't, he would still be known as someone who fought against the tyranny of Grindelwald. In truth a combination of the two worked best. He would profile the people that would work well with him and approach them at a later date.
"There isn't much you can do about it for now. Hopefully our descendants won't have the idiotic notions our generation has" Atticus smiled a little to set Derek at ease and it worked.
Derek sighed "You're right I suppose." Derek finishes his pint and got up "Well, I better start cracking then. I'll let you how it goes" he says as he extends a hand and Atticus shook it. "Excellent. Send the messages through the method we've established" Atticus said and soon enough they parted.
-Break-
Atticus was in the bathroom adjusting his robes in front of the mirror.
He breathed out deeply and made his way out of the bathroom. He made his way to the waiting lobby.
Professor Brown was waiting there for him.
He was in Egypt, Alexandria. Today he was going to present both his thesis to the International Transfiguration Board to pass the final hurdle for obtaining his mastery.
The Board has its permanent location in Alexandria, next to the Library of Alexandria that the ICW rebuilt. It is also where a number of other Boards were housed.
The ICW headquarters was also located in Alexandria, which was chosen as an alternative to Paris to prevent undue influence of the French Ministry onto the ICW whilst also prevent a perception of a Eurocentric organisation.
When the ICW had been formed, the organisation amalgamated all the different methods of passing individuals into masters into a standard one with a independent tribunal that has a set criteria for achieving mastery over a branch of magic.
Egypt by the time the Statute was enacted, didn't have a formal ministry and it had to be built from the ground up.
That meant Alexandria, beyond a few hundred wizarding families, was effectively free estate.
Given the history of the place with regards to the magical world, it became the preferred location for having an international governmental body.
Over the centuries, Alexandria grew wonderfully as more magicals began to congregate there. Now, there were approximately 15,000 magicals living in Alexandria alone.
"Are you alright?" Amanda Brown asked concerned.
Atticus looked at her and nodded. "I am. Simply a few nerves. I'm avoiding employing my Occlumency to the maximum" he said wryly.
She nodded approvingly "Yes, Occlumency is fine but deadening your emotions would be counterproductive at this point."
She softened her face "Don't be so nervous. Your work is exemplary. They will see it. Just relax" she said kindly.
Atticus nodded and said nothing else.
She conjured a glass of water and Atticus took it and drank it gratefully. "Better?"
He smiled and nodded.
He finished both thesis at the beginning of summer and Brown reviewed it along with a few of her colleagues.
He met them during the summer briefly as they had few pieces of advice.
Soon enough, it was time and the large heavy wooden doors creaked open and a man stepped forward once the doors were fully extended.
"Apprentice Sayre, the judges are ready for your presentation." The balding man stated.
He stepped forward but a hand on his shoulder stopped him and he turned towards her "I am proud of you Atticus. I know you will do perfectly" she said, adding a final encouragement as she gently squeezed his shoulder.
He tapped her hand and smiled at her.
Amanda Brown was his favourite teacher. He was grateful to her. She encouraged him and pushed him to explore Transfiguration to the utmost.
He learnt much from her, likely things that he might have missed or had noticed years from now.
"Thank you Master Brown" he said as he bowed deeply to her. He turned on his heels and followed the man that was leading him to the Judgement Chamber.
He entered and he looked around the chamber. It was circular and had a colour scheme of bronze and dull white. Candles illuminated the chamber brightly as they floated high in the chamber. The ceiling was domed and he saw an illustration of a man and woman with their raised wands as half formed magical creatures surrounded them. It was a grand illustration.
He continued forward until he arrived at the centre of the chamber.
In front of him were his judges. Atticus looked at them. They were seated elevated behind a large ancient wooden table that was arched in a concentric manner with the circular chamber.
These were the individuals who would be judging his work and either pass or fail him.
Seven Masters of Transfiguration, all of whom are accomplished. He was informed of the seating arrangement beforehand.
From left to right.
Master Emmaline Gousard
Master Abubakar Al-Sadd
Master Miriam Tawney
Master Erling Erikson
Master Heung-min Lee
Master Alexander Wanbula
Master Daichi Yoshiro
They have all been masters for at least fifty years. Master Sigurdsson was the lead judge in this presentation.
Behind them was a gallery and it was open to those who were masters of Transfiguration.
To his surprise, it seemed there were about fifty individuals in the gallery. He was well known in Britain for his capabilities though with the war going on, he had thought there wouldn't many people interested in his accomplishments.
He returned his gaze towards the judges. "Good morning, Apprentice Sayre. I am Master Sigurdsson and I am the lead judge over this presentation. The judges on my right..."
Master Sigurdsson began to list off the names on each side of him.
After a brief interaction with them, Sigurdsson spoke "You may begin the presentation"
His presentation for his mastery would be theoryof Transfigurational Molecular and Atomic Reconstruction. He had spoken with his master and she told him that he can publish his second contribution once he obtained his mastery.
And so Atticus began.
He picked the chalk wandlessly and began to draw on the blackboard.
The feat of wandless magic had them all sitting up straight, just as he intended. Amanda had told him that there were grumbles about his age and complaints that favouritism had gotten him this far.
He intended to prove them wrong from the start.
He began to give an overview of his contribution that he would be expanding upon in this presentation.
His presentation began on the fundamentals.
That the magic that sustains the change from one state into another will run out as the object's inherent state of being will resist and counteract the forced change that magic induces in the object.
From there he went on to talk about the lack of literature on exploring the nature of the object's resistance to change and where his investigations began.
He delved into chemistry as he explained the fundamentals then the application of muggle literature to transfiguration.
From that point onward he had their rapt attention as he delved into the science of chemistry and physics.
He explained his exploration into atomic and molecular structures of materials and the effect of magic at that level as he slowly induced change to reshape material into the shape he visualised.
He then began his explanation into molecular restructuring. He explained the requirements of deep understanding of the molecular structure of the material and that true permanence was only limited to the reshaping of the original material. He added that the technique had a penalising magical requirement.
He then moved onto to atomic restructuring that was effectively nuclear transmutation. He gave brief overview of nuclear transmutation was before moving onto explain his ventures into the technique and explained the requirements of being capable of doing the technique.
Finally, after an hour presentation, it was time to provide proof of the veracity of his thesis.
He looked around and saw that he held the attention of everyone.
The judges came down and came near to view the transfigurations.
He brought out two blocks of Beech woods, the wood that matchsticks used.
He drew out his wand and waved it and silently conjured a large bronze dais and set the block of wood on it.
One of the masters came and check that they were indeed blocks of wood.
Once they were satisfied Atticus began to explain further what his intentions were.
He drew out his wand and began the first transfiguration; molecular restructuring.
He closed his eyes briefly as he brought forth the image he wanted to bring into life. He drew on his magic and he opened his eyes which began to glow slightly as he brought his magic forth.
The change as always was mesmerising.
The block of wood rippled slightly as the change occurred and it spread gradually and evenly. A figurine seated on an ornate large chair was brought into existence.
Once the transfiguration stopped, he spoke "This is now permanent. No cancellation spell of any power will be able to change it back to a block"
Loud murmurs began as people began to speak. Master Sigurdsson stepped down along with Master Yoshiro and they cast any and all cancellation spells they knew with as much power as they could.
"Fascinating" he murmured in his Swedish accent. He and Yoshiro returned to their seats and Atticus began to explain the second piece of his contribution; Atomic Restructuring.
Finally he once again had his wand out and he visualised what he wanted to change the block of wood to.
This required far more magical power. He experimented with a number of metals and gold took the largest amount of magical power.
Whilst gold was magically conductive, its molecular structure was nothing special. But the toll it took on his magic was far too much once you considered it. He determined that there was something about gold that magic liked so much that it prevented abuse of the element via magic and he'd find out eventually.
He let out a breath and he closed his eyes once again and drew on his magic. His magic surged and he opened his eyes. His eyes were now truly glowing and a faint outline of his magic could be seen.
He pointed his wand at the block of wood and the change began to happen. Just like the other, the change was gradual and it started at the base of the block of wood.
But that is where the similarities ended. The block glowed as the change built from the base upward.
Eventually the change stopped and where there was once a block of wood, there was now a block of gold.
This had the room erupt in loud voices. The judges, all of them came down and inspected the block of gold.
"Is this permanent?" Master Wanbula asked.
He shook his head "No. We do not think it is permanent but the duration of the transfiguration will last so long that it might as well be permanent." He hesitates for a moment "At this juncture in time, I believe that it may well last centuries. Atomic restructuring literally changes the composition of the nucleus but things at that level have a significant resistance to magic; it is why we believe that the block will revert after a long amount of time. Molecular restructuring doesn't change the atom, simply rearranges it to fit the form that the individual desires which is a path that won't cause much if any resistance. This is not the case with nuclear transmutation." Atticus explained.
One of the judges had cast cancellation charms of all manners once again and the block of gold remained gold.
The block of gold would eventually revert back into wood but that would be in a very long time.
After ten minutes, all of which they tested and discussed the block of gold Master Sigurdsson turned to him.
"Thank you for your presentation. We will now deliberate amongst ourselves Apprentice Sayre. Please wait outside as we determine our decision" he said politely.
Atticus bowed to him and made his way outside where Amanda Brown was waiting for him.
She came up to him with a wide smile "I know you've shown me the transfiguration but it always astounds me when I see it again." She shook her head whilst she had a smile on her face.
"You did remarkably well Atticus. You absolutely did" she said extremely happy as her eyes with lit in excitement.
"I agree" he said laughing "I think I did fairly well." He said breathing his words out.
After half an hour, he and his master were called into the chamber once again.
He stood there in the centre of the chamber with Amanda by his side.
Master Sigurdsson was smiling broadly "Welcome back Apprentice Sayre. Before we inform you and Master Brown regarding our decision, we would like to say a few words regarding your presentation" he paused for a moment as he gazed towards his colleagues.
He returned his gaze towards Atticus "It's been many years since there has been a presentation that captured the attention of everyone here in the Judgement Chamber" he began "It's been even longer that a contribution has been submitted that challenged the status quo, that opens up entirely avenues of research and formulation of theories." He said with a smile on his face.
"Yours did both" he said with finality.
"Your presentation, your dissemination of information and your demonstration were all done at an excellent level." He said with a smile. "Your thesis, your contribution was original and delved into realms of transfiguration that has not been explored yet. You've brought us the humbling information of the value of muggle science to the field of transfiguration and most likely to many other branches of magic. Your contribution will undoubtedly be extremely welcome among the transfiguration community." He paused briefly.
"We were uncertain regarding the wisdom of having a fifteen year old presenting his thesis, despite your achievements to date. It is rare that an individual younger than twenty comes here to gain their mastery and it is nonexistent that an individual would be well rounded enough to be here before their majority. Until you" he said with a smile on his face. "For all these reasons, we are honoured to grant to you, on the behalf of the International Transfiguration Board, the title Master of Transfiguration."
Sigurdsson stood up as he finished his speech. "My congratulations, Master Sayre." He bowed and Atticus instinctively bowed back.
The judges came down and personally congratulated him and he briefly spoke with them.
After briefly speaking with a few of Amanda's friends, he made it out of the chamber and made his way towards a cafe that he had spotted before he entered the ITB building.
He came here with Amanda alone. It hadn't made sense to arrive with his parents when he'd be back later tonight in England. There were only two weeks left until he returned to Hogwarts. In addition, the magical quarter of Alexandria was teeming with ICW forces making the climate tense.
It was not a good time to visit Alexandria.
He finally made it to the Cafe where he'd spend the next few hours. His portkey would activate at 5PM local time which didn't leave him much time to explore the city.
After ordering a Panini and an Arabic coffee, he found himself a secluded corner and sat himself down.
He reflected on what he needed to do this upcoming year. His magical progression was going well and he was far above the average magical but it was not enough.
His time with Brosovic had proven that he was good but good wasn't enough to survive the likes of Grindelwald or even some of his lieutenants.
Grindelwald only a week ago massacred over a hundred wizards singlehandedly. It was awe inspiring to tell the truth. He knew he wasn't capable of such a feat, no, not yet.
Grindelwald let a few of them live and had them deposited in France to be picked up by their Aurors. He forced them to take unbreakable vows that would force them to spread the word of his power and it was futile to resist him. It was a clever ploy and excellent use of psychological warfare.
It made the French and the ICW culpable for their deaths if they do not allow the wizards to spread the word but if they do, it would drop the morale that was already low at this moment.
He didn't know what happened with the wizards as he only managed to hear of this as his elves managed to overhear some of the Aurors that picked the unfortunate wizards up.
Given that no news was leaked, it seems quite likely that the French and the ICW let the wizards die rather than cause further problems in morale.
He had a massive mountain to climb before he can even think of matching Grindelwald.
His Hyper-Percipience was still immature; his visions only occurred in his dreams still and the strange evaluation phenomenon that he had was something he didn't understand.
It only flared up strongly...no, he thought, strongly isn't a good description. It flared up alarmingly only twice and the two times that it flared were wildly different. Usually the ability was far more subtle but not those times. It flared for Emily but it was almost like it was a crossroads that depended on him saying or doing something. When he had seemingly chosen correctly, the evaluation phenomenon shifted into something he found tolerant as opposed to the other road that lead to a feeling that he could only describe as horrific and terror inducing.
That hadn't been the case for the second time it flared up. It had shown that person to be immovable and that the position the person held was going to cause mass devastation and a feeling of intense loss had washed over him that he had found difficult to cope with.
He had searched in every family grimoire that would give him an idea of what this thing was but he had found nothing and it was frustrating. He had asked Aurilak if he knew anything about this ability of his and he hadn't had a clue.
It was difficult to improve something when he had zero ideas on how to establish control over it.
It was something he intended to focus on during his time in Time Room this year. There were a few ancestors that had Grade 2 that he knew the names of and he'd use the Resurrection Stone for the first time for that.
He was conflicted about using the Resurrection Stone. He'd be a hypocrite to believe that the stone might not be real and was somehow an insidious mental magic that constructed individuals from the individual's psyche. After all, he somehow was reborn into this universe. Why would a stone that had the capability to call upon souls that departed life be impossible?
He hoped that his ancestors, in addition to giving him answers to Hyper-Percipience would be able to help him with the Stone given that I was their descendant.
He wanted to know if he would bear the negative repercussions if he used the Stone. The story said that Cadmus died as he sought to bring back his love. That makes him think that the Stone pulled on the magic of the individual in order to fuel the souls or shades of the people who have died.
Cadmus perhaps in that case, in his obsession with his dead wife allowed the Stone to pull on all of his magic which caused his death. Magical depletion existed. He himself hadn't come close to total depletion as the body had its own defences, similar to shock, that prevented you from depleting your magic totally.
It seemed only through desperation or dire circumstances could result in total depletion.
That theory made him wary of using the stone in the Time Room given that his magic wouldn't replenish normally. He would have to use the Stone outside of it.
He hoped that this was the case and not the possibility that the Stone was far more nefarious in nature; that it used the life force of an individual to fuel the calling of the dead as the price as he feared might be case.
If it was simply a case of the Stone pulling on his magic, it would mean that he would be free to use to call upon the souls of magicals he dearly wanted to speak with.
Other than a few of his ancestors, Rowena Ravenclaw was his idol.
So much of Hogwarts is attributed to her and he wanted to pick her brains and hopefully if she allows it, teach him.
He was certain she knew so much more than anyone alive did. The Time Room was something that he was still to this day in awe of. She created and manipulated an entire dimension! He had spent a lot of time trying to figure how she did it and he had found nothing conclusive. It wasn't a case of spatial manipulation.
Spatial manipulation occurred within this plane and simply used magic to create a larger pocket than what the natural universe would normally allow. Magic was allowed for a larger space to exist. But to create a whole new dimension?
He desperately wanted to pick her brains and if the Stone is fairly benign as long as you responsibly use it, he would call upon her.
When it came to his magic, things came easier to him. His wandless capabilities which he had always improved on any time he could, felt less draining as time went by. He wasn't sure if it was Hyper-Percipience or not but nonetheless he began using it extensively in his duelling style.
He had no need of gestures for the most part and he exploited this as much as he could. He began to use anything that lay around him to intercept spells whilst he continued to cast. He intended to make it muscle memory for him use his environment to intercept spells.
The ROR was exceptionally capable of producing illusions of environments and he intended to test if the ROR was capable of producing duellers from his mind rather than the standard dummies he used.
His transfiguration skills were improving all the time. One of the things he was working on was fluid transfiguration; in Battle transfiguration, constructs were created from the earth, from buildings and so on but even if you were absolutely a genius in transfiguration, there was a lack of continuous flow in casting. You created constructs that attacked the opponent who would try and succeed to destroy them or reverse them against you and you would either retransfigure or destroy the constructs.
This wouldn't happen with what he intended with fluid transfiguration. He intended to create a form of transfiguration that literally was continuous; whereby a transfiguration made of the earth would still be connected through the earth and continued to provide raw material to fuel the transfiguration. In essence, the environment would become pretty much like clay or dough that would continuously be reshaped into whatever he wished.
He believed that this form would effectively neutralise dark magic. Since the transfiguration was continuous, it meant that the damaging aspect of dark magic wouldn't have anywhere near the same kind of impact it would when it was cast on standard constructs which would break up or be damaged. The dark magic that stuck to the transfiguration would effectively be gobbled up and if he sent out the transfiguration to attack the opponent, the opponent would have to deal with dark magic infected earth.
For the moment, he was still trying to play with animation charms as he believed that was key in finding out the necessary arithmantic formulas that would give him an insight on how to produce continuous transfiguration.
He ate the last bit of his Panini and sat back on his chair. Similarly, his progress into rituals were...problematic.
His first ritual of the seven sets of seven had been Enhancement, his second was Freedom of the Mind, Body and Magic, his third had been Augmentation of the first set.
He's finished the fourth and fifth set.
His fourth set was centred on the adoption of abilities of magical creatures. Atticus had to modify his set and he could only adopt a single elemental ability safely. The rest of the rituals in the set focused on increasing his immunity. He'd gain immunity largely against fire, dragon fire would no longer burn him. Poison from Nundu would be greatly diminished and so on.
His fifth set was centred on physical rejuvenation. His stamina, his endurance, mental fatigue would all be reduced or increased. He estimated he wouldn't need sleep for days at a time.
Those two were easy to complete, relatively speaking.
It was his sixth and seventh set that caused him issues.
Those were also the rituals that would grant him biological near immortality.
His sixth and seventh set would be rituals to enable near biological immortality and controlled regeneration. Controlled regeneration was important. You did not want a finger that is sliced off to regenerate into another you.
He knew a lot of what caused aging thanks to his knowledge of his old life. Aging is caused by damage to the structures and functions of the molecules, cells and so on through oxidation, telomere shortening, mutations and a few more things that he didn't know. He knew what they were but the extent of his biology knowledge did not extend beyond a overview of biology. He did not have beyond a fundamental knowledge of biology. He did not know how to affect things at a cellular level nor did he know where to start and it was irksome.
The current literature was almost a century behind the cutting edge science and medicine that he was aware of and they were only at the beginning of discovering was DNA was and how it functions.
Oswald Avery, a name that he remembered from his biology lessons and who funnily might actually be a squib of the Avery family, discovered that DNA transforms cell properties. This would only be in a few years time.
Chargaff was another important individual in the matters of DNA. Barbara McClintock, Roslin Franklin and of course Watson and Crick was pivotal in establishing the foundations of understanding DNA.
All of these peoples were four to fifteen years away from being useful to him. Even then, their usefulness to him were not high especially given that he intended to complete the rituals by the time he was seventeen which was becoming difficult. In truth, it was the reason he decided to remain at Hogwarts; the Time Room was far too important to his plans and ensuring he achieved his deadlines.
But trying to come up with a comprehensive understanding of cellular biology on his own through experimentation and observation was utterly out of the question. He did not have decades to spare to nonstop spend his time learning this from the ground up.
All this meant that he would have to find a method that was heavily magical that would mitigate his lack of deep knowledge of biology to either drastically reduce aging in his body or stop it completely.
Thankfully he knew the most important aspect; that progressive damage to the structures and functions that make up and regulate the body are what caused aging.
This was key.
This fundamental thing is enough to understand that Phoenixes were perfect. Phoenixes regenerate themselves by having a burning day when their bodies have become old. All the damage that has been accumulated gets removed.
Of course there was a clear problem with this. The damage that is accumulated is simply erased and a new cycle is begun. He had no desire to become an infant again. Once again becoming a self aware infant was something he hoped never to endure again.
But he had a starting point; Phoenix ashes are the product of a regeneration cycle.
It was the product of the old cycle that the Phoenix shed to make way for the new cycle.
Phoenix tears are a potent healing item which restores the body to health. It repairs damage to the body and restores it from before the injury.
These two were key to achieving biological immortality. He intended to incorporate both ingredients to essentially induce a continuous repairing and regeneration of his cells, his body and his DNA to effectively remove the progressive damage to the structures and functions of his body.
Effectively, he would fix his body to an age and health to which it defaulted to. His body would cease to age beyond an exact age and health as the rituals would restore everything to which his body is frozen to. It was easier said than done. He had spoken with Aurilak who had stated that there had been countless mages who tried to achieve immortality from this approach but Atticus wasn't trying to achieve immortality, not in the normal sense.
He was effectively augmenting his body to a state where it would be perpetually regenerating and healing itself.
The philosopher stone did a similar thing except it was required to be taken continuously to have the same effect.
Of course the magical requirement of it all was going to be huge. Magic was about balance and so he'd need to a large sacrifice to ensure that the price wouldn't be paid by him.
That meant that he would have to bind this biological immortality in a manner that magic would find acceptable.
His continuous regeneration and healing of his cells, fixed at an age he would determine, would have to have a limited time span.
His current thinking was to sacrifice one or two of the basilisk eggs that Seraya laid.
The Basilisk was a phenomenon, magically speaking. The venom, the basilisk stare and the long lifespan should have been impossible but yet it worked. Of course the reason it worked was because of the incredible flaw it had; rooster cries were deadly to it. A mundane creature practically harmless was able to kill the most deadly of any animal in existence. Balance.
If he sacrificed these Basilisks, he believed that the price would be paid in full without any negative connotations to himself. He would sacrifice the Basilisks and their potential in exchange for the biological immortality to work and to last the potential life time of those basilisks. He figured they'd give him two thousand years. Enough time to work on five more rituals that would bring up his total ritual sets to thirteen, the next stable ritualistic set before twenty one which was far more unstable in comparison to thirteen which itself was more unstable than seven which the most powerful ritualistic set. But he would have a long time to figure it out if his plans worked.
But the two ingredients weren't enough. His arithmantic calculations of the rituals had shown that. He needed numerous ingredients, which he hasn't fully determined yet but the ones he has were incredibly rare, and the potion he would brew from these ingredients would have to be specially brewed, he knew that much.
Pewter, Copper and Brass cauldrons would not be good enough for the potion he'd brew. All those cauldrons were used for specific speeds of brewing.
The early arithmancy calculations had told him that the brew would be insanely difficult to achieve in a standard cauldron. It meant that he had to find a cauldron that could work. The process that his calculations showed was that it would have to be incredibly slow and would have to be brewed for months at a dense magical location in incredibly careful circumstances in a especially magical cauldron.
There were only three cauldrons he could think of that could aid him in brewing this potion.
Pair Dadeni was one of them. It is a powerful magical cauldron that is said to have immense healing power to the point that it could heal those near death. The muggles have their own mythology that it revived the dead but that wasn't true. It was simply a powerful artefact that could heal those near death.
This artefact was last known to be in the hands of an Irish druid who was named Cathbad, over fourteen hundred years ago. There were no clues as to where it might be and he suspected that it was done on purpose either by the druid or someone who found it and made sure there existed to links to them. Unless he knew the full true name of the man, he would never be able to call upon his soul to ask him about it. He could call upon King Conchobar Mac Nessa, a legendary Irish King to ask him but he suspected not even he knew.
Effectively this ruled out using the Pair Dadeni.
Another possibility would be The Dagda which was a cauldron that was said to be capable of true replication of anything that was brewed inside it.
Besides the obvious benefit of having large amounts of the potion available to him, the cauldron was near perfect. It is reportedly made out of Orichalcum and as the metal was heavily conductive to magic, it would be able to bind the ambient magic into the potion well.
Sadly unless he wanted to go on a hunting trip that could take months, as the last known location of the Dagda was in Romania, it wasn't an option either.
No, the most feasible and easily attainable cauldron was Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Helga was not known for being a potioneer but she was a master at the branch of magic that only Salazar surpassed in their day. It made sense, she was a herbology master and given how closely interlinked the two branches were, it made sense that she was extremely capable at the art. Helga was known for being a master healer, in addition to being a warrior thanks to her Viking heritage. Her cup was a combination of her two strongest branches. Healing and potions.
The cup's powers were very specific; it could only be used to brew healing potions and the cup would effectively amplify the potency of the healing potion. That was the only known capability of the cup but it was near perfect. The only reason why it wasn't better was that he didn't know what the cup was made out of. He suspected Goblin Silver. While it was a good conductive metal for magic, it was...not what he needed. But it would suffice in all honesty.
Good thing was that he knew exactly where it was. He tasked some of his elves to spy on Hepzibah Smith to learn her routine in and out of her house and to listen to her.
In the time they observed her, none had been given the notion that she had the cup. It seemed that she made sure to keep the fact that she had it quiet.
Tom Riddle must have established a friendly relationship with her, charming her out of her secrets.
It was funny. He'd be doing what Tom Riddle did and steal the cup from her. Except of course he wouldn't kill her...there was no need. His proficiency in Legillimency was pretty good at the moment. Not quite good enough to rewrite memories but good enough to dampen certain memories. He intended to legilimens her and take the information he needed on where the cup was and then obliviate her with a custom version he created that would make it extremely difficult to undo the Obliviation.
He'd do it in his Crysander alias in the winter.
If he managed to grab the cup then, he would only have to obtain the ingredients and think up and complete the arithmancy calculations.
He had enough time to do this. While he had a feasible plan on how to achieve biological immortality, he still needed to heavily do research in the matters of biology so that he was as accurate as possible when he was doing his calculations.
He lamented that he didn't take biology at University. Regardless, he had a great many things to do.
-Break-
Daryl McKinney POV
He gasped as he blinked furiously. 'Where am I?' he thought groggily as he shook his head.
He tried to move but found himself unable to and he began to panic. His eyes cleared up and he looked around and saw himself tied to a chair. 'What is going on' he screamed in his head. "Where am I?" he said loudly and frantically as his head swivelled from side to side.
"Ah, you're awake" a voice that sounded familiar spoke in the distance. He snapped his head towards the direction of the voice. "What? Who is there?" he shouted angrily and not without a little bit of fear.
Finally the voice in the shadows stepped out and he could see who it was. His eyes widened "SAYRE?" he shouted in anger. He didn't understand. He didn't understand why he was here. "What you are doing here? What are you doing to me?" he said in fury as he hoped to drown that fear he had.
"We'll get to that shortly" Sayre said and the smile he gave sent chills through his spine.
He tried to speak once more but found himself silenced and he knew things were going to end badly for him.
Sayre conjured a chair seemingly wandlessly and sat upon the chair. The boy's purple eyes bore themselves into him as he tried to jiggle his hands free. He felt strange, his magic felt constricted and he didn't know why. His fear grew in proportions.
Finally, the boy moved and waved his hand over him "There you can speak again." Sayre tilted his head "Shouting will do you no good. The room is silenced and you could set off a bomb and nothing would be heard. I suggest you keep quiet and listen." Sayre said with a tone that brooked no disobedience.
"I swear I didn't do anything. Please. It wasn't me!" he cried out in sheer panic.
Sayre shook his head "Shut. Your. Mouth." He said with a malicious tone and Daryl complied easily though he couldn't help get a sob out as he remained quiet.
'He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die' his thoughts rang out.
"Better" Sayre said in an approving tone but Daryl couldn't help but feel terrified.
"I'm sure this is confusing for you." Sayre said as he raised his wand and pointed it at him and Daryl trashed against the bindings of the chair as he frantically tried to get out of the chair "Please no. Please" he cried out and Sayre paid him no heed. He closed his eyes and waited for death.
Something washed over him and memories assaulted him and he gasped at the sudden influx of memories.
He shook his head to clear the haze and turned to Sayre. He remembered meeting Sayre in the Hogs Head with a number of muggleborns. He remembered being obliviated and he rose in anger "You obliviated me!" he roared in anger "You fucked with my head" he near screamed.
Sayre took back his seat and looked at him with an amused look "I did." Sayre said as he nodded amiably as if Daryl said something funny.
"Why" he asked defeated "Why do this? I didn't remember. I was no threat to your plans" he said bitterly.
"Yes you weren't a threat to my plans. Not truly. And it isn't the reason why you're here." Sayre said seriously for the first time.
He lifted his head and turned towards the boy. "Then what is it?" he screamed at the boy "You fucking inbred pureblood fuck. Why the fuck am I here?!" he asked in fury.
"You're here because of your plans." Sayre said simply and a cold chill ran through his spine.
He hadn't told anyone yet of his plans. He was going to wait until he had the capital and the connections before he began recruiting.
"My plans? I don't know what you're talking about" he denied though even to himself it was weak.
Sayre had the temerity to chuckle "Don't bother. I caught you a few days ago and had you under veritaserum to get your plans from you. Quite ambitious of you." Sayre commented with a little a praise in his voice.
"It would have likely caused a fair bit of damage too if I hadn't been warned" Sayre continued.
"Warned?" he couldn't help but ask. None knew of his plans. All of it was still in his head.
Sayre nodded "Yes. You see...I have this talent. A rare one and a confusing one too that allows me to...evaluate people for a lack of a better word. Essentially, I get to have a clue on people's futures, whether or not they are beneficial to presumably or my goals, I'm not quite sure yet. Perhaps both, perhaps neither." Sayre shrugged carelessly.
"When we met in the inn, it flared up and I didn't quite understand. It was only through observation and the attention I paid you that it truly flared up in the following weeks whenever I gazed at you." Sayre said with thinning his lips "It was a pain, to wait for the right time to get you alone and to figure out exactly why my skill flared the way it did" Sayre said before he started chuckling though it was angry and Sayre's eyes grew cold "To think, I owe the ability that much. You would have gone unnoticed for years I imagine as you built up your connections in the muggle world until you were ready" Sayre said in cold tone.
Daryl hated his time at Hogwarts. It ruined his life. His family was estranged from him as they were devout catholic. When Professor Dumbledore had come to inform him that all the strange things that happened to him was due to magic, it had initially elated him before a pit of dread had taken over when he had seen the faces of his parents. They feared him. They feared magic. They wanted to refuse him attending Hogwarts but the warning Dumbledore gave about unstable magic reacting in ways that may well prove dangerous to everyone in the house had them relent given that they didn't want to endanger his siblings. They looked at him as if he was the antichrist and ever since that day his parents had ignored his existene. His siblings hadn't understood as his parents forbade him to tell them of magic. It was the beginning of the fracture of his family, the family he had loved and still did. When he turned fourteen, they kicked him out of the house, finally, when an owl arrived at the home from one of his classmates. They had said that they have done their duty as his parents and said they would no longer have one of the devil's child in their home and said they would pray for his soul.
He had cried until his tears ran out and he made his way to Diagon Alley to stay in the magical world. It was only the bartender taking pity on him and making him earn his stay that prevented him from living off the streets.
It was the first kind thing anyone had done for him in the magical world and it proved to be one of the only kind acts for years to come.
He had arrived at Hogwarts bitter and angry but also hopeful and a place where he'd belong to. He was sorted in Gryffindor, Dumbledore's house. The beginning had been good in all truths. He had made friends with a number of muggleborns and even a few purebloods that didn't disdain his existence.
It had come crashing down in November 1934. Tarquin Selwyn had chosen him and began to torment him. All those 'friends' he had made suddenly disappeared as they didn't want to catch the sadistic boy's attentions. Selwyn and his fellow Slytherins caused him so much pain and anguish to the point that he was a frequent visitor to the infirmary when someone found him when the Slytherins had left him in the halls of Hogwarts.
He'd gone to Dumbledore to ask him for help and to get them expelled but it had been useless 'My hands are tied my dear boy, those children are children of wealthy lords and there is nothing I can do to punish them that would stick. They would come to Hogwarts in anger and your life would become even more difficult. Aurors are more likely to arrest you than they are to arrest them for assault. I'm sorry my boy' had been the reply of the sanctimonious prick and he had hated Dumbledore as much as he hated Selwyn.
His supposed fellow Gryffindors had turned their backs to him and none of them wanted to step up on his behalf. He was after all only a muggleborn.
His torment hadn't ended until fourth year when he had learnt how to hide himself. It began his hatred of Magicals. Magic had ruined his life and he had vowed to himself that he would get revenge.
He had planned for years to do it. Some muggleborns left Hogwarts after OWLS and he would have done the same had he been able to get all the knowledge he needed by that time but he hadn't and had to remain one more year before he could leave.
He was going to use his magic in the muggle world to build himself a company and build as many connections as he could with rich muggles, nobles and politicians for a single purpose; to inform them of a hidden world right beneath their noses that was godless and that it was filled with people who hated those without magic. He'd inform them of their crimes, of their magic that can wipe minds, control minds and kill with ease to frighten them into cooperation.
He would whip them up in a frenzy as he sought ensure their aid in his quest for vengeance.
He had fantasized of the dead frozen faces of his tormentors as they were riddled with bullets as the army swept across magical Britain. It had aroused him.
Not all of the magicals would be wiped out. No. The muggleborns were innocent. Just like he was. They were weak of course. They tried to assimilate into a society that hated them and simply accepted their treatment.
They would join him or die with their precious purebloods.
That had been his plan. He looked at the Sayre boy in hatred, his fear forgotten. The Sayre boy had done nothing personal to him, not until he obliviated him, twice, but he was part of the problem. He was someone held in awe at Hogwarts for his intellect and his talents. More than once he had overheard girls talk about the boy, both muggleborn and pureblood, gossiping about him and swoon over the boy's looks and intellect and his wealth.
He hated the boy for having such an easy life where he could simply focus on his education and ignore all that surrounded him. He had been wrong of course, the meeting at the inn had proved that but it didn't matter to him. He was part of the problem and someone who would die along with his fellow inbred purebloods.
"You purebloods wouldn't have known something was wrong until it was too late." He began as he spewed the words out in pure hatred and eyes wild with fury "You all think you are the centre of the world when you are all but nothing but godless freaks that should have been killed in the crib." He began to laugh in unrestrained manic "It would have been glorious to see all their dead bodies as it were riddled in bullets." He grinned savagely before a look of hatred took him over "But you...you have ruined everything. All my plans, all what I wanted to do, GONE!" he screamed in anger before he deflated in on himself "I was so close to beginning it all..." he whispered in anguish.
"Your hatred is understandable" Sayre said in a pitying voice that broke the silence. He hated the pity in his voice. He had heard it from muggleborns in his house as they tried to speak to him when he'd return from the hospital.
"The magical world treated you terribly through faults not of your own. The fact that your own family rejected you must have had you wishing for a place to belong and yet...and yet you didn't find it at Hogwarts where once again you were rejected but also tormented. The school didn't protect you from your aggressors and in fact seemed to encourage it with their lack of enforcement. It was negligent and criminal in truth the way they let the tormentors go." Sayre sighed and rubbed his eyes "You're not the only muggleborn that Selwyn and his ilk tormented. You definitely were the worst case but nonetheless you weren't the only one." Sayre pursed his lips before he shook his head "I didn't know. Had I known perhaps I would have interceded in some way. I'm not a fan of bullies though really they were more criminal than simple bullies." Sayre once again shook his head "What is done is done. You cannot change the past."
"What are you going to do with me?" he said as he raised his head and met Sayre's eyes who looked impassive. He had known what was going to happen to him but he wanted it confirmed.
"You're going to die." Sayre said simply without a care in his voice as they met each other's gaze. "You will not move from your position. Your hatred is far too deep for you to be able to move past it. It is a shame. You are smart and resourceful enough to have been able to help bridge both worlds and bring about a society worth having. This society is rotten Daryl. We all know it. Unfortunately, it is the one we have and trying to change it is a prospect that requires far too much blood for my liking and is a mess." Sayre smiled sardonically "I intended to simply create my own country, one that was democratic in some fashion that incorporated the best of both worlds as I believe it would reach heights that neither could for centuries to come on their own at best." Sayre sighed.
He had known he was going to die and hearing it didn't help. He didn't care what Sayre said about creating a new society. He didn't care for Sayre's opinions. He wanted his revenge and he would never get it and he began to sob.
"You won't get away with this" he said beseeching the boy with the threat of getting caught with fear in his eyes "You will be caught. We can-we can forget about this. You can even obliviate me. Please" he begged even though the act nearly caused bile to come up his throat "Don't do this. I can change, you don't have to kill me. Please" he pleaded but the boy simply shook his head.
"I won't get caught. I poly juiced into you early today and checked into this hotel wearing your face." Sayre looked at him without emotions "You looked quite depressed when you arrived." Sayre smiled in a way that froze his blood "The receptionist had asked you if you were OK, purely out of professional concern and you informed her you heard your family die in one of the nazi raids" Sayre said without a single emotion in his voice.
His eyes widened in shock and Sayre continued "You simply brushed off her condolences and went to your room depressed" and Sayre smiled coldly.
Panic and dread filled his stomach "You didn't touch my family did you?!" he demanded, half begging as he prayed to god "IF YOU FUCKING TOUCHED THEM I WILL KILL YOU!" he screamed as he lost himself in his rage.
Sayre got up and was impassive amidst the screams and hatred that emanated from him.
"Did you kill them?! TELL ME" he screamed to no avail and he began pleading desperately as he hoped to know the fate of his family.
Eventually Sayre went to the back and brought back a strange bag that was clear and see through seemed similar to glass though it looked odd in texture. Sayre also brought out a rope that he began to hang tie to the ceiling and he trashed against his bindings. His voice was raw from the screaming and he rasped out his pleas until Sayre spoke in a calm tone as he walked towards
"Such a shame that plastics won't be invented for decades." Sayre sighed as he unzipped the bag "I had to create this, you know. Luckily my memories were helpful in the matter" Sayre smiled fondly as looked away to the side brief second before he gazed at him "I remember watching Saw" Sayre shook his head "I hated those movies for the senseless brutality. They were creative to be sure but they were so...terror inducing. I hated that aspect of the movies. However" Sayre began as he smiled broadly "One of the deaths had stuck to me. It was a popular kind of death I have to say given that there were a multitude of movies that had the same kind of deaths" Sayre paused for a moment and Daryl was utterly confused and terrified by the insane drivel the boy speaking of
"What are you fucking talking about you fucking knobhead" he rasped out and Sayre shot him a mild glare.
"You had your say when you shouted at me with all that vitriol. Now hush as I have my turn. Where was I? Ah yes. The death I was referring to was of course death by suffocation by plastic bag. It is a kind of death that I can appreciate. It adds drama really as the person struggles to breath and takes minutes for them to die." Sayre smiled broadly at that as he eyed him. 'He is insane' he thought frantically.
"You'll be glad to know that you'll be the first to die via this method." Sayre said tilting his head. "Of course no one will know. Once you are dead I will simply hang your dead body to make it clear that you killed yourself. Ties everything up nicely don't you think?" Sayre said jovially and he moved to speak as he glared at Sayre with hatred but Sayre didn't allow him to speak. He moved swiftly behind Daryl and wrapped the bag over his face and tightened it around his neck.
He frantically tried to get something loose but he had no luck just like earlier. He cried as he realised he was going to die. He couldn't see clearly but he saw Sayre sit down and watch him die.
He didn't know how long it was for but he began to black out and his gasps were getting shorted, tighter and finally he blacked out, cursing the name Sayre.
Atticus POV
That was...fascinating. He had watched McKinney die and it was strangely quite relaxing. He felt no guilt at the death. He had plans that would have destroyed everything.
He felt genuine anger at the boy for planning to destroy the magical world, the world he intended to save.
Atticus got up and undid the plastic bag ten minutes after the boy had blacked out. He undid the bindings and floated McKinney towards the rope and hung him.
"All in a good day's work" he murmured as he began to erase evidence of any foul play.
It wasn't anything personal to be honest. The boy needed to die as he would have caused issues down the line.
He wasn't certain McKinney would succeed, it was something that never found its way in the HP universe but it wasn't something he could allow to leave to fate. He wondered what it said about him when he felt nothing at the death of a boy only seventeen years of age.
He shrugged and made his way out of the hotel disillusioned. He cast a compulsion charm on the receptionist to check in on the room he had checked in as McKinney in an hour's time.
He was in London, just before he expected the Blitz to happen. He breathed in deeply and made his way towards an alley where he could apparate freely from.
He didn't kill the boy's family. In truth it had been a toss-up. He would have killed them if he hadn't been proficient in Legillimency and Obliviation. He couldn't rewrite memories, yet, but he could dampen them. He dampened the memories of Daryl and magic and targeted specific memories that had magic in them. Whilst he couldn't rewrite memories, he was fairly decent at implanting things in minds.
Of course the muggles he had experimented on would probably protest at his so called proficiency but hey, he had to learn didn't he? They had been criminals anyway so he felt no sympathy. It was for a good cause.
The McKinney family now believe they kicked out Daryl because of his deviancy. That was what homosexuality was called in this day and age. Given that Daryl had no romantic interests at Hogwarts, if there was ever an investigation, they wouldn't find it hard to believe plus his death could simply be attributed to it even if the accounts of the receptionist differed from the information they all had known.
It is unlikely that an investigation would happen in the first place. Daryl had given his Head of House his confirmation that he wouldn't return for his seventh year so there should be no suspicion.
The only ones that might be a weak point were perhaps the muggleborns who had witnessed his Obliviation of the boy. But given that they had to keep it secret as part of the secrecy clauses, they were unlikely to snitch besides he had obliviated the boy, it made no sense to come after him if they assumed foul play.
He shook his head. He'd ask Tweenie for some cocoa. He felt cravings for some nice hot cup of cocoa. With a twist, he apparated back home.