Chapter 19 – The nineteenth chapter
/Trigger Warning: The last part of this chapter will suggest suicide. You have been warned. I did not mean for it to get this dark. However, it has been done and I am so sorry. Also please review. It really encourages me when I see reviews./
/ Time skip two weeks after Fury revealed the clip/
I'm already getting moderately excited. Despite the fact that I got along with everyone here, it feels as though. . . yes, it's that feeling. Returning back to your homeland! Hail the Queen and the Minister and whatnot.
Our flight is three days from now, and Fury and that American Auror offended the Stark Family two weeks ago. Though I'm quite regretful that my lessons at Potter's house and with Professor Kocoum were coming to an end. For our farewell, I insisted that we have fun roaming Doyer Street (or, the magical half of it.) He agreed and we went out immediately, but when I found out the prices of things here, I'm glad I brought enough money.
Everything was way cheaper than in Diagon Alley! Something that would have cost me 3 Galleons, only cost me 18 Dragots! I get to save like. . . 10 Dragots!
So there we were, at Gringotts, NYC. Opening my the first ever bank account under the name Stark. Surprisingly, despite the extra paperwork, things went a lot faster.
And because I opened a bank account, I found out two things 1.) My wizarding identity was the same as my muggle one. Despite me using my blood to write my "name" and prove my identity, it stayed as Tom Stark. It struck something in my chest a little, when it didn't change to Draco Malfoy, but at the same time I was slightly relieved.[1] Finally 2.) I was now head of my own house.
Seriously, I'm already an adult in wizarding terms. I initially thought I had to wait until I was sixteen to do things like buy a house, but I didn't. I guess that's one of the advantages of being the "first" wizard in my line. . . or. . . a. . . *whisper* mudblood. . .
*Sigh* No, I shouldn't be ashamed, afterall, I've lived with dad for 7 years and I did not hate it any more than I did my own situation about 20-15 years prior. I would even go as far as to say that I loved my new muggle family! I like all my new muggle friends, and I truly enjoy my muggle life.
So. . . I am a MUDBLOOD! Ah. . . no. . . That's wrong. If I can recall. . . yes, the real term was, I am a Muggleborn! The first of my line! Or at the very least, the case is such on paper!
Oh yes, back to the situation at hand. I deposited the pocket change I had at hand, $1000, but exchanged into Dragots (since they wouldn't accept debit.) and took out Đ300. I wanted to take out Đ500, but Potter stopped me in case I splurged, so we settled for Đ300 since I argued that things are more expensive over the pond and he yielded. However, he didn't stop there, he insisted on holding on to the Đ300 for me, and would walk right along side me as my walking wallet. It seems he didn't trust me with money.
Thus, when the auror office called and he gave me Đ100 and asking me twenty times if I would be alright by myself and that he would be back in 10 minutes at most, the following situation happened.
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"I need more money."
I stared in amazement as Potter's eyes widened into saucers. I never knew his eyes could become that big. But why are you so surprised? It's not like you gave me a huge amount of money. Running out of Draggots is to be expected if you gave me such a meager sum.
"What else do you need to get?"
". . . Everything aside from potion ingredients."
"WHAT?! I left you with 100 Draggots!"
Wahh. His eyes got even bigger! But as I said. That's not much money. Did he expect me to fit all my stuff within that amount? Did he even know how much I bargained for the ingredients? I saved about 35-40 Draggots. Ah. . . he wasn't with me so he doesn't know. I guess I could pardon him this time.
"Yes. And I need more money."
"Were you never taught how to budget?!"
. . . My biological father taught me to buy everything that 1.) makes a profit, and 2.) be used to show off your power or wealth. And dad just lets me buy anything I want.
"Dad taught me to buy anything I wanted, period, so no. I do not "budget." "
Stupid Potter. Did you actually expect me to act in accordance to this peasant word, 'budget'? You expect too much from me. The term is not even within a centimeter of the spectrum of my lifestyle.
Potter started to rub his forehead in circular motions and gave an exasperated sigh. He looked at me and spoke in a serious tone.
"Alright, let's go return those."
"What? No."
"There is no NO's, we are returning them."
"We can't."
"STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD!"
I felt a pang pierce my chest. I- I!
"I'm not a child!"
"THEN STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!"
"I'm not!"
"Tom!"
". . ."
I turned my head away. I used a lot of effort to bargain those! I'm never returning them. I can't return them anyway!
"*sigh* Tom. Let's at least return half of them, alright? Come on. I'll buy you some ice-cream if you return them. Let's use it to buy more useful things."
". . . We can't"
"Why can't we?!"
"I'll tell you if you stop shouting. People are looking at us. Please mind our appearance, we are in public."
". . . Alright Tom. I'm sorry for shouting. I shouldn't have. And I promise to not shout anymore."
". . . I bought them in Amorr Alley and the seller died."
". . . You WHAT?!"
"You promised not to shout."
"Do you KNOW just how DANGEROUS THAT WAS!"
I glared at the rapidly turning tomato-red man.
"Stop shouting it's embarrassing."
"YOU SHOULD BE EMBARRASSED! WHY DO YOU THINK HOWLERS EXIST?!"
I flinched at the loudness of his voice and was starting to turn red myself from all the eyes that were looking at us. I risked glancing up at him and noticed that Potter was calming down from a dangerous red to a lighter shade of pink.
"*inhale* Tom, what you did is inexcusable. You could have easily died there or worse. Do you understand how dangerous it is there?"
"I know how dangerous it could be, I just watched a man die."
"THEN WHY DID YOU GO?! Tom." *his trembling hands close into fists at his sides. I guess I really did anger him terribly*
"I am never allowing you out of my sight again until you learn to never go back there."
Ah. . . I'm starting to feel a smidgeon bad...
". . . As I said. I know how dangerous it could be and I'm sorry for breaking my promise to you that I should stay far away from there. I understand that you are now disappointed in me. I really am sorry, but if time were to revert back, I still would have bought those ingredients and risked me life."
". . .You do? What are those ingredients that you would risk your life for?"
Potter looked at me speculatively, positive in his mind that I was smart enough to know what was bad for me. Thus, he was really confused as to why I did what I did. . . Potter, you have changed my opinion of you. I wish other adults were like you. . . Unlike dad. I'm positive he wouldn't listen to me. He would just stick me back in my room throwing soft comfortable stuff toys in to keep me safe and occupied; then watch over me while I sleep to make sure I wouldn't sneak out. . . *Sigh*. . . over-protective parents. I still like him as my dad though, I wouldn't trade him for a million Potters. . . Wait, no. I wouldn't trade an old smelly sock for a million Potters. Who would want a million Potters? Too noisy.
"I can't show you here, let's go elsewhere, where there are no lurking eyes."
I watch Potter breathe deeply, as if pushing back all of his anger in fear of letting it all out on a child. . . Well, I understand his anger. Really. In his eyes I really am a child, and I too might have shouted at a child I was responsible for if they did the same thing I did. But, I'm not a child.
At times, I will act immature (I don't know why) but I already deeply understand all the hideousness of the world. I should know, especially after all I've experienced both in this life and in the past.
When his hands stopped trembling I took a cautious hold of the sleeves at his wrist. Careful not to anger the dragon lurking in Potter's eyes. I started to lightly tug and drag him towards the nearest cafe which resembled an underpopulated 19th century Starbucks, made with old but sturdy Nara wood and no glass windows, but a familiar two-tailed mermaid sign hanging right above the open door.
I sat him down on the wall-bolted couch at a corner table of the restaurant, and sat myself down across from him.
"Alright, I agree that the 50% of what I bought may have been splurging."
Potter eye twitched as though they were clouded with incredulity beheld before a "blatant lie". . . or simply put, in annoyance of what I said; but thankfully it seems as though he is holding himself back and waiting for me to finish what I was going to say before coming to a conclusion.
"Okay I was splurging." His facial muscles relaxed a bit, but the anger in his eyes remained at its full strength.
"But when I saw what he had I knew I had to get it before someone terrible does." I reach into my pocket and take out the tiny thing from within.
It fit into my palm nicely, the color blending with my skin, but was spotted with amber-like gold. It was a hibernating Bakunawa egg, a type of dragon long thought exist, but the worst thing about it was, it was radiating heat. It's close to hatching.
Unlike most dragons, the Bakunawa are smaller, much smaller, and don't breathe fire/water or have other elemental abilities. Closer to a snake, they have potent venom and tricky hypnotism which folklore have they they used to play tricks on humans by pretending to be one of them and making the moon appear to have disappeared in the most random of times.
Although they are identified as a dragons with their snake-like body with four short yet distinct arms and claws; their Maine of fur which was wrapped around their "necks" and ran down their backs as well as their abilities have lead people to believe that they are the hybrid of a basilisk and a wampus cat.
Honestly, the idea of those two species mating scares me more than the product itself, but I guess they're not as bad as hidebehinds.
But why does it feel. . . a bit wet? I turned the egg over and saw that the egg had cracked. Shoot! Did I crack it? . . . No. The eggshell is moving on it's own. . . The egg shell is moving on it's own!
Without a second to spare, Potter wrapped a piece of cloth around the egg including my hand.
"Hold your breath. Now!" he hissed.
I nodded and held my breath, he held my shoulder securely and tugged me up. Quite painful and rude if you ask me, but before I could complain, he twisted in his spot and apparated us away.
I was dizzy for a moment, but quickly got over it as I was quite experienced with tag-along apparition and portkeys (specifically the dark mark).
I looked around and we were in one of the rooms in Potter manor. Which room specifically, who knows? There are dozens.
Potter carefully lifted the slightly damp handkerchief from the egg and I saw the most adorable creature alive! Her baby scales were shining a midnight blue, that gleamed in the faintly lit room. Her claws were thick, yet as short as my pinky nail, and they were slightly dull since she of course hadn't sharpened them up yet. But no worries, we can sharpen them in a jiffy!
Wait. . . what?
I could hear Potter murmuring across from me "this is bad, this is bad, this is really really bad."
Indeed Potter, it really is bad. Why didn't you take it from my hand earlier?
Wampus cats are very territorial and like werewolves and vampires, imprint on their mates and young. Likewise, the young also imprint on their parents, which is why they make the best familiars.
I personally have a fondness for snake patterns, but for actual snakes themselves. . . Who knows what the dark lord and Saint Potter could make it do to me. Which is why I wanted to give her to you as thanks for being my meat shield these past weeks. Why did she have to hatch now? Couldn't she have hatched just a couple seconds after?. . . Can I kill it?
Owww!
I wince at the tiny Bakunawa biting into the tip of my thumb. It didn't penetrate through skin, but it was still painful. Impossible. . . Did I anger it? Did it hear my thoughts? Almost like a response, I heard an incoherent hissing in my mind. And once again, I don't think I quite fancied the idea of being able to differentiate the difference between "coherent" and "incoherent" hissing.
I looked up at Potter, hoping he knows a solution to what my stupidity has brought. But alas, his eyes were flickering between disbelief, fear, and amazement. I don't think we'd be able to have a comprehensible conversation any time soon.
"Samuel? Is that you? Did you already drop off that dear boy Tom?"
Mrs. Potter's voice shook him out of his stupor and he hid me inside the closet.
{Shall I raise you?} I stared into black beady eyes. And almost as if she understood me, she nodded her head. {You can really hear my thoughts can't you.} I demanded more like a statement than a question. As expected, she nodded her head again.
*sigh* I brought up my occlumency shields that were flimsy from disuse.
{I guess, you can help me. Can you still hear me?}
The tiny Bakunawa tilted its head, as though confused. It can't hear me anymore. Aha, so it really has Legillimency like a Wampus. I scratched her head and she seemed to like it. Cute thing. Looks like I need to start practicing my occulunency shields again. I brought down my shield and looked into her eyes once more.
{Let me name you then. How about. . . Catalipsi.}
She was still, almost contemplative, then she nodded her head and gently licked my thumb (like a cat would, but with a lizard-like forked tongue. Strange). I guess this is her way to apologize for biting me earlier, and as approval towards her name.
So there I was, a seven year old boy, stuck in a closet with a hatchling Bakunawa licking his thumb. And I thought Saint Potter was the 'special' one. . .
Ahh yes. What a win I had. Afterall, I didn't actually buy her, I was actually buying her stock of food for when she hatches so Potter wouldn't have to. However, I really didn't expect that she would hatch so soon. But I guess there's no helping it. It must be fate that she hatched in my hand before I could hand her over.
Catalipsi is, what you would call, a bonus prize after winning the grand prize. "That man" should have known better than to target a Slytherin, one who was also a Stark at that. It was like he was begging me to destroy him. I didn't have to do much either. He dug his own grave, I simply pushed him into it. A piece of newspaper was blown by the wind and got stuck on my leg. [Chielf Auror faces allegations after confessing in court the horrible truth behind the Miracle Boy!] I'm not quite happy about the nickname they gave me, but simply recalling the events these past two weeks brought a smile to my face.
It was quite simply really. First, I blew up the situation by bribing a newspaper firm until the Auror Office was forced to call the incident a matter of "National Threat Exposure" of Wizarding Society. It wasn't that difficult since SHIELD already had a pretty name plated in gold known by the entire world, and being exposed to them. . . Well, they simply had to blow up the severity of the case.
This was what made everyone start asking questions, "Who was the bastard who did it?" Everyone started to trash talk the 'idiotic moron' who did magic in front of a public camera.
When it was accidentally revealed that a little boy who feared for his life was responsible, they knew they couldn't pin the fault on the "victim". So a little slip to the media that the situation was previously "under control", and the video leak was an insider job from the file storage within the Auror's Office, everyone's heads exploded!
It was easier to imprint thoughts in a public mad with rage, than a calm one who could analyze the situation for what it was. So this step was absolutely necessary, and it was like hitting two birds with one stone.
The guilt of trash talking a poor week boy had everyone frantically searching to pin the fault on someone. So when the poor boy struck with fright and recovering from PTSD accidentally made a "slip" to the public that the criminal was "someone of position" and had a personal agenda against him for simply being a wizard and the son of a famous man, the crowd went wild! They were furious that the man wanted to separate a child from his only parent, and even wanted them to leave America altogether. The conclusion everyone came to was that "the criminal thought he could make my family leave by leaking footage of my accidental magic and threatening exposure to the entirety of America and probably even the world." Simply put, everyone labeled him a mad-man.
The thought of Americans being forced to leave their country with the reason being that the father was too famous for his and his family's own good (with his fame being his reputation as a "hero/soldier" who constantly risked his life to save the World countless times), made every proud American mad.
Conspiracy theorists were having the time of their life finding "evidence" that I abundantly laid out, on who the evil man was. Everyone was quick to pin the fault of 'hating on a poor innocent boy' on the man of position abusing his power.
As a finale, when another tiny slip gave everyone a name and a face to the evil man, their hearts were healed. They were finally relieved of the guilt of trash-talking a 7 year old boy as they could finally put all the blame on the evil cunning man who tricked them into doing the dirty work for him. Theorists were proud of themselves for coming to the right conclusion of the man's identity. And finally, the "pressure" and "guilt" finally made John confess his sins. It was a beautiful ending. Oh yeah, and I took Catalipsi during one of my trips to John's home office, to plant evidence of 'hate-crime' against me.
As I said, John dug his own grave. I merely pushed him into it.
As for Fury. . . Who knows what dad did to Fury. Even if they have maintained a peaceful aura between them whenever he drops by to check on the Avengers, I could still see the hesitation in his eyes and his unwillingness to stay in Stark Towers. Sometimes, I catch him wincing whenever Jarvis speaks.
{Such a beautiful creature aren't you my Catalipsi? Yes you are~ Yes you are~!}
I smiled and rubbed the fur bellow Catalipsi's tiny snout. I could finally admire the tiny beauty for all that she is. Her beautiful midnight blue scales which glisten silver every time the light slips past the cracks of the cabinet door and hits them. Her four tiny black claws grasping onto my hand in a secure hold. Her soft shimmering fur running down her spine to the tip of her tail and around her neck like a lion's mane. And her large black eyes, spotted with beautiful colors like a tiny galaxy entrapped in glass.
{Catalipsi. No.}
I hear a hesitant hiss of resignation then felt my infatuation with her slowly decrease until it is no longer obsessive.
{Good girl}
I rub the top of her head with my index finger.
*happy appreciative hiss*
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In a prison cell within the Judicial building, John lays on the ground. Broken from his life falling apart. His mind slowly slipping into the darkness, broken from a magic most dark.
A man steps out from the shadows and takes out a pearly white wand, gleaming in the moonlight.
"Good job John."
A bone chilling voice whispers to the man, like the song of death. Thin wispy threads with a white-blue hue pulls out from John's head and into a crystal vial.
The bony fingers of the death-like man plugs the vial close with a cork. He raises his wand once more and mutters a word.
"Impeius."
John's pupils dilate and he stands up. He rips up his bed sheets with his bare hands. With one hand he clenches the strands of cloth, and with the other he takes his bath bucket and flips it upside down. John stands on the bucket and ties the strips of cloth on the pipes running above the ceiling in a hoop, the size of a head.
The man who lurks in the shadows grinned and left without a sound. The next day, the name of a man with a tarnished name appeared on the obituary. His friends and family were distraught, but there was nothing they could do for the public was against them.
They knew he would never have done it; they knew he was innocent, but a dead man could not speak. [2]
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[1] So after the Mandarin incident. They really had to integrate Tom/Draco into their society as soon as possible to look over him. Thus, MACUSA manually registered his Wizard identity into American society. This was supposed to automatically happen using his blood when he becomes 11 and enters the school of his choice as he is a "muggleborn", but they had no choice but to register him early. So now, he legally has two identities.
[2] I'm so sorry. I did not mean for it to get this dark. I do not know what came over me. I am so sorry guys.