Still don't own anything. Surprise !
Chapter 4: Never heard of magic
"There's a letter for you, Master."
Tom looked up from his breakfast at the thick envelope that his servant was holding to him. Noticing the green ink, he took the letter and dismissed the woman with a hand gesture. She turned back to the oven, making herself busy with the breakfast.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the piglet, scurrying away. Tom waved a hand and smiled thinly at the pained yelp in the hallway. He ignored the way the woman tensed at the sound. The muggle was inconsequential, and besides, he was not going to bring lasting harm to her spawn.
Yet.
Even though they could mostly use their free will, his muggles were well-trained. Of course, it was thanks to his ritual, which made them extremely susceptible to his suggestions. Coupled with a heavy dose of intimidation and subtle manipulations, there was practically no chance of rebellion, as long as they feared what he could do to them more than what he already did.
It was a delicate balance, that fear. If you went past a certain point, panic would overrule all logical thought, causing the muggles to lash out or run. Magic had helped turn this razor edge of a path into something more manageable, but he had to keep in mind that a false step could induce that primal fight or flight response.
And he was not going to underestimate a mother's determination to protect her child a second time.
He skimmed over the content of the Hogwarts letter. Very little had changed in fifty years, most notably the headmaster – damn the old coot – and the deputy Headmistress. Among the books, the herbology, history and potions textbooks were the same as he had first learned with.
"You will drive me to London today," he told his servant, not bothering to acknowledge her curt nod.
He had a shopping trip and a grand entrance in the Wizarding World to prepare.
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The Leaky Cauldron was as dusty and grimy as the last time he had visited – although the clientele was not screaming and running for the door.
"Bless my soul," the barman boomed, "is that Harry Potter?"
All eyes turned to him.
"It's Arthur Jenkins, actually," he answered, feeling rather like a slab of meat in the middle of a pack of dogs.
It did not convince all the clients, but he did not linger to face the forming mob. Sprinting to the back of the pub, he came to a halt in front of the shifting wall that hid the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Right. No wand.
He glanced at the pub's door, where he could already hear scraping chairs and nearing footsteps.
Damn. They were on his trail. He channelled some magic at the tip of his finger and tapped the jutting bricks on the wall, hoping it would work.
The wall opened and he ran to the nearest dark alley for cover. He waited for the crowd to scatter or head back to the pub, and made his way to the end of the alley, where a tilted building held the chiefest – and only – wizarding bank of England.
First order of business: change his muggle money into galleons and sickles.
Two, buy a wand.
Three, take over the world.
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The goblins were as welcoming as ever – that is to say, not at all – but they changed his muggle pounds without a fuss.
Tom then sneaked his way to Ollivander's, where the creepy old wizard took ages to match him with a wand all while muttering cryptic statements in that high whispery voice that was both eerie and annoying.
Armed with his new wand – though he was intent on getting back his old one at some point – he cast a Notice-me-not on himself (overpowered for safety) and marched to the apothecary which was the nearest.
After three attempts at catching the clerk's attention – engrossed in a recent specimen of Monthly Potions – Tom gave it up as a lost cause and walked out with his unpaid ingredients.
Flourish and Blotts would have held all sorts of interesting books, if he had been an actual eleven-years-old. As it was, he grabbed the required texts from his list and decided to go browse the bookshops in Knockturn Alley at the soonest occasion.
The witch at the counter ignored him in favour of a couple behind him in the line. He cleared his throat, but there was no reaction, from either the witch or the couple.
Patience thoroughly spent, he stomped off the bookstore, magic lashing out at the unsuspecting crowd.
Stupid wizards who could not pay attention to their surroundings.
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It was when he reached Madame Malkin's that he noticed he was still under the Notice-me-not charm.
He looked at his stolen potion ingredients and books.
If anyone asks, they were gifts.
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Apologies for the delay. Life became complicated, and I had to stop most recreational activities for a while. I haven't posted much on this story in a while, but here it is.
I'm still not entirely clear where this is going, though I have a pretty good idea what will happen in the next chapter.
After that... it could either go in a rather dark/serious direction or jump to the deep end of weirdness. Not sure yet what I'll do with it, especially since I want to focus on Remus and The Bringer off Ashes.
Oh, we'll see.