Men and women in long robes bustled past me down either side of the cobbled street on which I found myself. Old buildings constructed from stained wood and weathered stone lined the road. Vendors stood in front of their small shops, calling out their wares to attract customers. Gentle clouds filled the sky, the sun's light streaming through the few gaps in the cloud cover like the beams of dozens of focused flashlights. The street was familiar and there was a strange hum in the air. I paid none of it any mind for I was lost too deep within my own thoughts. The small letter I held in my hand had left me with no end of confusion.
Dearest Victor,
I apologize for forcing this change upon you so suddenly, but the rules I operate under are constricting and tumultuous. I had originally intended to greet you myself, but that is no longer possible. As recompense for this most grievous inconvenience, I have bequeathed upon you three gifts in addition to the change you would have undergone regardless of outside forces. The first of these is the dark satchel hanging from your shoulder. At first glance it may seem insignificant. However, upon closer inspection, I am certain that you will recognize its usefulness. The second is the sword sheathed at your hip. While far from the greatest blade I could have given you, I believe you will discover just why I granted you this specific weapon in short order. Finally, the staff you hold in the hand that does not contain this letter. While its magical properties may not move mountains, you will be hard pressed to find a better spell focus and even a dragon's strength would be insufficient to sunder it. I wish you nothing but the best. I know this opportunity will be an enjoyable experience for the both of us.
Forever yours,
M
As I finished reading the letter in its entirety everything suddenly made sense. I knew why everything around me was so familiar. I had seen it all before, just not in person, and it was different when I viewed it previously. This was Diagon Alley. A mystical hub where witches and wizards bartered and journeyed to for entertainment.
Half of me knew this, just as another half recognized the thick, all-encompassing hum of magic in the air around me. The entire street was coated in magical energy. I should recognize it. I had spent many long years honing my own magic in preparation for…
I looked up from the paper, my eyebrows furrowed. I was two distinctly different people. I remembered growing up in the United States of America. I was a nerd – reading, playing video games, and watching fantastical movies for as long as I could remember. I went to college and retreated from social interaction at every opportunity, my only break from this pattern was through the internet.
This was not my only persona. I was also a man who had taken the name Victor upon his rebirth. Learned in dark magic and sorcery, I traveled the land seeking out new knowledge and interesting adventures. Victor was recognized by my other half, known to him as his avatar for an MMO.
I was both. Neither. Someone new entirely.
I nodded to myself as I accepted my new existence. I was who I was now. There was no changing it. I needed to make the most of it, and that meant taking stock of my situation.
When I looked down to reread the paper in my hands, it was gone. I patted myself down – finding myself garbed in thick, dark robes – but was unable to find the letter. It was likely gone for good.
My eyes drifted to my left hand, remembering the words written on the now vanished paper. A long, wooden stave was held in my pale grip. It was made from thin, dark wood, sanded to be smooth with a diagonal pattern textured into the length of the staff to allow for a sure grip. An oval-shaped, clear crystal was housed at the very tip of the staff, rhythmically swelling to glow a deep violet before returning to its dormant state.
As I saw the coloring of my hand, I instinctually cast an illusion over myself, brightening my skin tone and altering the color of my eyes. That done, I returned to my inspection of my equipment.
My right hand fell to the hilt of a sword at my waist. Its pommel was a cold blue, shaped into the head of a panther. Drawing the sword an inch from its sheath, I grinned at the glow it illuminated, quickly sheathing the blade before any of the magical folk around me took interest. My mortal half recognized it on sight – a type of blade called Frostbrand. It was not from the same setting Victor hailed from. It held secrets of a different land.
Finally, I reached down to the dark brown, leather satchel hanging at my hip and opened the flap.
The satchel was empty, but a small slip of paper was affixed to the buckle, hidden from my gaze until the bag was open. Upon the paper was written…
Think of your wealth and crafting supplies. You shall have both.
Once my eyes scanned over the paper's words, it faded from my hands like a spectre passing on from the world. Such was likely the fate of the first letter as well.
Following the instructions, I pictured a small, golden coin emblazoned with a crown on its face. I reached into the bag, and could not contain my smile when my hand came up with a coin just like the one I had pictured. Reaching back into the bag, I let the coin fall from my fingers and pictured instead a potion vial. A small, clear bottle rose from the bag in place of the coin.
My mortal half recognized the bag, or at least the general workings of it. While not exactly as he remembered, this satchel operated similarly to a Bag of Holding. While I could only guess at the bag's dimensions without testing them, if the paper told the truth…
Dropping the vial back into my bag, I turned and began walking down the street, scanning the signs of the shops.
A short while later, I crossed the threshold of an establishment called Gringotts. I waited patiently in line while the customers before me were sorted then stepped forward when indicated by the goblin teller.
"What is your business at Gringotts?" the goblin asked, his gaze focused on a paper in front of him, disinterested in my presence.
"I am here to open an account with you and, if possible, exchange currency for the local variant." I pulled a coin from my satchel and pressed it into the counter with a clink.
The goblin snatched the coin up and held it above his head, inspecting it with a scrutinizing eye. "I have never seen this coinage before. Where did you acquire it?"
"That is my business. Are you able to exchange it or shall I take my wealth elsewhere?"
The goblin huffed, reaching under the counter and producing a small brass scale. He set the scale on the counter and dropped the coin on one end. He nodded when the coin caused the scale to dip down. The goblin reached back under the table and retrieved a handful of what my mortal half recognized as drachma. He placed one, then two, then three, then four on the scale's opposite side. The scale rose to level when the fourth coin was placed.
"Each coin is equivalent to four drachma. Gringotts will retain five percent of your coinage as a convenience fee. How much coin would you like to exchange?"
Smiling cordially despite the ludicrous percentage Gringotts would retain, I said, "Fifteen-million."
The pleasant white-noise of stamps, clanking coins and haggling halted. I did not need to look around to know that every goblin, as well as a fair few wizards, were staring at me with greedy gazes.
Rapid footfalls sounded from behind the teller in front of me and he was soon sent shuffling away by a more elderly goblin.
"Right this way, sir wizard." the new goblin said, opening a door in the counter for me to pass the barrier. "I will be happy to assist you with setting up your new vault."
With a grateful nod to the goblin who had helped me initially, I followed what I assumed to be his manager deeper into Gringotts.
X
With half of my money now transferred into usable currency, less a substantial convenience fee, I exited Gringotts and walked down the street, mentally following the directions given to me by Borguk, the elderly goblin who had shown me to my vault and helped me to fill it. There was a dragon guarding it and everything. It felt nostalgic.
The bookshop was easy enough to find. Floating books and screaming paintings did wonders in helping one locate the shop. I gathered a single copy of each tome in the store and brought them to the counter. As the slack-jawed clerk began to total the price of my acquisitions, I noticed a small stack of newspapers. The headline didn't interest me, nor did the moving image of a man hefting a trophy. What interested me was the date.
"Excuse me, today is February 19th, 1929?"
The clerk looked confused as he said, "Um… Yes. I mean, yes, sir."
"Formality is unnecessary. Please just continue adding up my bill." I left the clerk to his calculation as my mind began processing events.
If I was here so early in the timeline, there was much I could do. Gellert Grineldwald would have already established himself in a notable fashion, and as such I could not see any benefit in openly opposing him, even if his actions would create problems for me. Facing a foe with established infrastructure, allies and notable power of his own was not something I was overly willing to involve myself with without an organization of my own to offer support. This world's own heroes would deal with him in time.
Dark wizards rose and fell with the tides. I had grown accustomed to outliving their incessant need to see the world bow before them. While I would not openly antagonize a foe with ready allies and realized power in my unprepared state, preventing the rise of another such nuisance with little to no effort expended on my part was certainly appealing.
"Excuse me, sir, if I step out for a moment, could you hold my books until I return? I will not be gone long, I assure you." I said to the clerk.
The clerk nodded distractedly, scribbling numbers onto a notepad. "Of course, sir. Your purchase will still be here for you when you return."
I nodded in thanks then left the store. I closed my eyes and lightly tapped my staff on the ground to cast a divination spell, whispering, "Riddle…" An image of a man wiping grease off his face appeared before me.
With a wave of my hand, a brilliant, glowing white portal appeared before me. I ignored the gasps of the witches and wizards around me and strode through. A dark-haired, grease-stained man with sharp features stared wide-eyed as I emerged from the portal.
"My god, what is–" the man's voice cut out as I severed his throat with my sword faster than he could react. Tom Riddle would now never come to be. I had averted a rather annoying future headache. I wiped the blade on the corpse's shirt and sheathed it, stepping back through the portal, much to the amazement of the assembled witches and wizards on the other side.
I paid them no mind, brushing past their questions and introductions as I walked into the bookstore. I paid the man a rather modest fee for such a sizable hoard of magical knowledge and stored the tomes in my bag.
More questions were asked of me as a sizable crowd hassled me as I made my exit from the shop, but I simply walked on, passing by the curious onlookers and loquacious wizards claiming to be of 'import' as I made my way to my final destination. Borguk had also supplied me with this location when he had given me directions to locate the bookstore.
It seemed, for the moment anyway, that I was to remain in this world for an extended period of time. Without an established lab and anchor points, I lacked any reliable way of traversing the planes that did not rely on large amounts of speculation and luck. Randomly thrusting myself into worlds removed this one was foolish beyond measure, so I would need a home for the time being. Perhaps I would leave when I had constructed the necessary rituals and artifacts. Perhaps I would stay. I had not yet decided.
I entered a large, official-looking building and stepped up to a woman behind a counter, peering at her through brass, enchanted bars.
The woman looked at me suspiciously as she said, "Can I help you?"
"Yes. I was told you had property for sale. Borguk sent me."
The woman's demeanor shifted immediately. I had gone from a potential annoyance to a reliable source of funds that could potentially relieve her of undesirable real estate. "Of course! I would be happy to. If you would like, I can show you a list of our available properties and–"
"If you will pardon the interruption, I would like to take Ravencrest Estate."
The woman stopped speaking, tilting her head curiously. "I would of course be happy to assist you, but I must also inform you–"
"Borguk already informed me of the less desirable aspects of the property. I will take it all the same. At full price."
No further haggling was needed as the woman hastily produced a contract. I looked it over for any discrepancies and signed it when I found none, pulling a small piece of paper from my satchel and scribbling a payment note to be delivered to Borguk at Gringotts who would transfer the proper payment from my account.
The woman placed a deed on the counter and looked between it and the contract. "Victor…Beolfag? I can't say I've heard that name before."
"I would be surprised if you had." I said, smiling patiently. "Is there any further paperwork I need to complete?"
The woman shook her head as she stamped both the contract and the deed. "No, sir. Everything is in order. I can prepare a portkey to your new residence for a modest fee, if you would like?"
I shook my head. "Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I can transport myself." I turned and left without another word.
As I stepped into the street, I once more found myself to be the center of some grand spectacle. I did not indulge the people's questions. Instead, I closed my eyes and pictured the image of my new estate that Borguk had shown me when I'd asked him about available land in Gringotts.
A second portal opened before me that I quickly stepped through. The moment I arrived on the other side, I closed the portal. I did not want anyone to follow behind me. Ravencrest possessed no wards. While that was one of the primary reasons I selected the property, it would be a liability until I had installed my own.
I watched the portal close behind me, giving a satisfied nod when no witch, wizard or other entity emerged from it before it could fully close. Confident I was alone, I turned to inspect my new home.
Ravenscrest's estate covered just over two-thousand-five-hundred acres of land, sufficient to make me recognized as a member of the nobility, though a lesser one. The reason no one had chosen to acquire the land, in addition to its lack of a ward array, was the makeup of the estate's vast lands. Nearly the entire estate was covered in tall, thick, dark, twisting trees that choked away the light of the sun. Only a small lake and a smaller creek provided a break from the monotonous forest. The trees sheltered many unsavory creatures ranging from giant spiders to dark spriggans. In order to even reach the steading Ravenscrest was named for, one must either use some form of teleportation or brave the carnivorous forest that seemed to devour any who ventured within it.
This more than anything was why I had selected this estate. With such an effective natural deterrent, the mystical defenses I planned to place over my new home would be enhanced tenfold, and their lethal nature could easily be obscured by the forest's reputation. I valued my privacy, and I would have it here.
The manor, which I now stood before, was constructed in a man-made clearing, made from the same dark wood that surrounded it on all sides. What few windows could be seen on the Victorian exterior of the manor were smashed or missing panes entirely. According to Borguk, the previous owner had a rather unfortunate encounter with a leshy that chased him back to his home. The previous tenant did not survive, though the leshy was suspected to have made it away safely. Whether the leshy remained within the forest or had moved on, fear of it would serve as one more entity preventing my peace from being disturbed by unwanted visitors. In the future I would likely construct a safe path for welcome guests, but that must wait until I could ensure the 'safe' path could be overrun by my minions at any moment.
I walked over smashed cobbles up to the manor proper. Gently pushing the door open, I was not surprised when the door fell off its hinges at my touch. I made a note of the damage and moved on.
For the next several hours, I explored my new home, noting each imperfection and beginning the plans for additions I desired to make to my new home. While most would fall prey to despair at the herculean task of making the manor liveable and defensible, I did not. I was skilled. I was patient. And I had time.
Entering what I assumed used to house's the master bedroom, I was delighted to find a large mirror resting against the wall. I took in my reflection. A man with hair the color of coal, skin like honey. It was a falsehood.
With a thought, I dispelled my illusion and my visage disappeared. The only thing reflected in the mirror before me was the staff in my hand. I grinned. Mirrors and reflective surfaces alike had always amused me. To look expecting to see skin the color of a cooled corpse, eyes like blood and fangs like the fiercest predator, yet find nothing.
My amusement waning, I turned from the mirror to continue through the house. There was much work to be done.