Chapter 4
A/N: To all of the people who followed this story, thank you. I've been gone for a few weeks because I went on holiday: I should have put a notice here, but it didn't cross my mind. Sorry to all the people who thought I would post a few chapters and leave.
Just so you know, I see Tom as the Tom in the Philosopher's stone movie, rather than POA. Also, Tom using wandless wordless magic is canon.
Tom was standing behind the bar, talking to some regulars, when he spotted Harry coming through the Diagon exit. The boy, who looked so much like his father, came up to the bar. "Hello Tom," the boy said. "You said you would talk to me about the free room."
"Of course, Harry!" Said Tom with a warm smile. "I think your room is a better place for this conversation."
The unlikely pair made it to room 7. Tom snapped his fingers, lighting the fire.
"Take a seat, Harry. Can I get you a drink? Just tea? Of course."
Tom limped out of the room, leaving Harry to examine his surroundings. There was, of course, a bed. Not only that, but a desk, desk chair, armchair and wardrobe too! Harry thought that it rather seemed like a long-term stay kind of room rather than a one-night affair.
Tom came back through the door with a tray laden with kettle, milk and sugar, setting it down on the desk. The balding bartender drew up the desk chair to beside where Harry was sitting on the armchair.
"Now, where do I begin? ...Not very long ago, just before your time, the Wizarding world was a very different place than it is today. There was a powerful Dark Wizard by the name V... Voldemort terrorizing the nation.
Many folks still are loath to say his name, because he had a spell that let him know where someone was when they said it.
Anyway, he was murdering and torturing people left, right and centre. No-one could stand up to him. Until one day, he made a visit to your parents' house.
That was supposed to be impossible, by the way. Your parents lived under a Charm that only let people see the house if the "Secret Keeper" told them the secret. Their Secret-Keeper betrayed them to Voldemort.
So along he goes on Haloween to your parents' house. They died like everyone else... but you. You survived, and not only did you survive, but you somehow vanquished Voldemort. They call you the "Boy-Who-Lived". He hasn't been seen since."
Harry's eyes were slowly widening through Tom's speech as he processed the information he was being given. They suddenly narrowed as Harry heard of his parent's betrayal.
"Who betrayed them? Who was it, Tom?" Harry hissed, enraged.
"Sirius Black."
Harry sat on his bed, reading the book he got from his meagre inheritance, flipping the coin with the wizard and the snake in the other hand.
'Boumarico, the boomerang spell. Sends an object out at a high speed as a projectile and returns it to the user's hand after it stops moving. Useful for small objects such as quills, Galleons and small rocks. Use with caution with sharp objects, as being hit by such a projectile can cause greivous injury or death.'
After another few minutes of reading, Harry came across another spell.
'Multiplico, the multiple duplication spell. Similar to the Gemino curse, this spell causes the target object to multiply. How much it multiplies depends on the amount of power put into the spell. Duplicated objects eventually vanish. (See: Leprechaun Gold)'
and
'Multiplico ingens, the mass duplication spell. Causes huge numbers of said object to appear for a short amount of time. Does not last as long as Multiplico, the standard multiple duplication spell.'
Harry had only been a wizard for a day or so, and already he loved magic. His brain had already made the connection between the spells, and he figured out he could use them in a combination to have multiple high-speed projectiles.
Before he could use them, however, he had to learn them. He decided to learn Boumarico later, when he had more space on hand, but Multiplico? He was off to the races.
"Multiplico!"
"Multiplico!"
"Come on, Multiplico"
"Mul-tiplico?"
"Multi-plico?"
Slightly frustrated, Harry thumbed to a section entitled "Learning Spells".
'Learning a spell often takes time. It is frequent that you will learn the spell and perform it to a lesser degree at first, and slowly hone it down to be more powerful.
Spells are sometimes pulled off for the first time in high-pressure, stressful situations, however this is not reccomended except as a last resort.
The more a spell is above your current level, the harder it will be to learn. You will see that spells are marked as level 1-7. 1 is entrance level magic, like the Lumos Charm. 7 are highly difficult spells, like the Patronus Charm. The maximum recommended difference between your skill level (often corresponds to your Hogwarts year) is 3 levels. Any further than this and you may suffer from magical exhaustion.
Remember to be creative with your spell combinations: anything standard will be easily fended off, while spells that are new to your opponent will make them have to think on the spot.
The most important thing is to practice daily.'
Multiplico was marked as a level 4 spell, while Boumarico was level 3. Harry resolved to learn both, so he had a trick up his sleeve at all times.
"Multiplico!" Finally, the stupid coin split into two identical coins! It had been two days since Harry had seen said spell in his book, and he worked on in in every spare moment between eating, sleeping and wandering Diagon Alley.
Next to learn was Boumarico, though of course he would continue practising with Multiplico.
"Tom?"
"Yes, lad?"
"Do you know anywhere I could practice some slightly more destructive spells? I don't want to ruin your nice rooms."
"I suppose there's the basement, you could practice there. I don't keep much there, so you won't have to worry about breaking anything. Here, follow me."
"Thanks, Tom!" Harry beamed as he followed Tom down the stairs behind the bar.
The basement was pitch black and slightly musty.
"Here," Said Tom, snapping his fingers.
The fireplace at the back of the room burst into flames, providing light and heat to the otherwise dark and cold room.
"Woah! You can do magic without a wand?" Harry asked, enthralled.
"Oh, that's just a little something I picked up in the war."
"The Wizarding War?"
"No, the Second World war. I had just become owner of the Leaky, you know. One cold, cold night in the Blitz, the Leaky got hit. Roof got blown right off, even with the magical protections. My wand was upstairs, so it just got destroyed. I had nowhere to go, so I just had to stick it out in the cold until morning. I still think if I hadn't figured that little trick out I would have died."
"That's amazing! Can you teach it to me?"
"Maybe later, lad. Here, I'll fortify the walls for you, but then I have to get back to the bar."
Tom waved his wand in a complicated pattern, then nodded to Harry and left.
"Boumarico!"
"Boumarico!"
