What If… Harry Potter Wasn't Harry Potter?
Disclaimer: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Review Answer:
Jostanos: If that frightens you, my faithful spy, I wonder how beyond-terrified you'll be when this chapter is done…trust me, you're not going to enjoy the fact that a so-called favourite is now…well…keep reading to find out;
Dennisud: Let's just say, there's a lot of madness ahead, starting with a huge twist concerning a certain someone;
"They are the only family he has…he's far better off growing up away from all of that…until he is ready…"
'Oh, I'm definitely ready, old man…but are you?'
As another wise man once said.
Let the games begin…
3rd Thing: Now That's A Twist
As the train ride began, Stephen frowned to himself when he heard the excitable hullaballoo outside his compartment.
Seriously, couldn't they even find a place to sit without wanting to bother their betters, or the people who might just enjoy some peace and quiet?
Again, idiots…and again, this made it easier to know they would likely crumble before real power.
Smirking at the thought of what he could do to them, Stephen let out an exasperated sigh as he opened his eyes and looked to his reflection in the window, silently chuckling to himself at the fact that, despite the fact he'd had ten years to get used to the proverbial man in the mirror, he still couldn't believe how different he looked in this new life.
All right, so he still had the same black hair and green eyes, but the youthful, everyday-hero sort of look, instead of the cool, noble visage he'd worn as Sinister Strange as he'd delved into the Darkhold's power, was not something he thought he could ever get used to. Maybe he'd look into a way to make his face look more like that of his old self as his new body got older, even if only to further screw with the weak and the unworthy who claimed to be the best thing since sliced bread.
For now, the sight of his underaged reflection amused him, while the air of power concealed within his dark-green eyes only reminded him of his goal in this new life.
Power.
He'd realised by now that he was never going to find a Christine in this world; if he didn't exist, then she didn't, either, so, as he grew older, he also knew that any future romantic interests were, more than likely, because of the human desire to procreate and sire an heir to his greatness.
Therefore, in this new life, power was what he sought and power was what he would have, one way or the other.
Smiling as he reminded himself of that thought and the goal he'd set at a young age – like, after consuming the power of his new life's former spirit, aka the real Harry Potter – Stephen's head snapped around when he heard the door to his compartment open; to his curiosity, he found himself looking at a haughty-looking brunette, who looked like she'd actually been running up and down the train in the past few minutes. She was already dressed in her school robes and seemed to be looking around in exasperation, as though she was searching for something.
When she saw him, she scoffed audibly, almost as though she expected him to know why she was, rather-rudely, interrupting him, before she asked, "Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."
"And that's your business…why?" asked Stephen casually, a note of mocking amusement lacing his words, accompanied by another smirk when he saw the girl blanch at him.
"Excuse me?"
"What business is it of yours when a classmate whom, from the way you said his name, I can guess you don't know the first thing about, loses something of his, barely within twenty minutes of us leaving King's Cross Station? Are you just some sort of Messiah Complex-riddled nosey parker or are you hoping to use this amphibian as some sort of icebreaker so that this Neville-boy is in your debt later, which, judging by your stick-up-your-rear-end attitude, I assume you want him to be, so he can depend on you…a little control freak complex there too, have we, Miss…?"
"There's no need to be rude!" spat the brunette, earning a scoff from Stephen.
"Kettle, Pot; come in Pot."
"And, for your information," added the girl, still missing the bleeding obvious with regards to her interruption, apparently, as she explained, "It's none of your business who I want to make friends with, even if they do end up depending on me. At least I'll have someone in this lazy, outdated world who won't think of me as just some disgusting swear-word they think they can say willy-nilly."
"Willy-nilly?" asked Stephen amusingly, disbelief lacing his words as he asked, "Wow: what's next? Great Scott? Holy cricket? Or how about a gasp where your monocle falls from your eye as you go I say?"
"Now you're insulting my diction?"
"House Points to whatever House welcomes the ignorant, self-centred and obnoxiously-rude," drawled Stephen, looking away from the girl.
Unfortunately, his silent dismissal fell on deaf, brown-hair-infested ears, "How dare you! I don't know who you think you are, but you can't talk to me like that! Obviously, you're just another of these tactless, logic-deprived purebloods who think they can get away with murder; well, maybe you should buck up and apologise to me, or else I'll make sure the teachers know how rude you really are, boy!"
"How old are you?" laughed Stephen, rising from his seat before he scoffed. "Actually, scratch that; I don't want to know. Honestly, you sound like you're living in the Second World War or something…and, honestly: do you think threatening me with teachers is the best you can do? Obviously, in case it escaped your attention, Miss, they're not here right now and, as you said…or rather, as I deduced, you don't have friends to watch your back. This also tells me you're a latchkey kid, whose parents are either too busy to look after you or don't care enough, likely blanketing their pride in you having magic behind forced smiles and a few hairs of the dog…am I right?"
The girl blanched.
"Furthermore," drawled Stephen, tapping the girl on her chest as he explained, "I still find it rude that you refuse to even introduce yourself when you make assumptions of your classmates. Therefore, you're either keeping your name secret because you're ashamed of it or, more-likely, you're waiting for the Sorting Ceremony to reveal your name, so I can be impressed because you're meant to be some sort of prodigy, if not a teacher's pet. Let me guess: you've also already read and revised all your books, so you can recite them verbatim if I asked you to…which I don't?"
"Whereas you are ignorant, and probably expect to get by on Daddy's money?" scoffed the girl.
"Highly unlikely, seeing as how mine are dead."
Suddenly, the girl blanched, while Stephen closed his eyes for a moment as he saw her eyes flick up to his forehead; obviously, he'd read the rumours in those jokebooks they called official texts that said he/Harry Potter had a scar from the night he'd destroyed their Dark Lord and become known as the Boy-Who-Lived.
But, as he knew from personal experience, there was a very fine line between what you read as hearsay and what is real.
"What's your name?" demanded the girl, earning a snort of amusement from Stephen.
"You first."
"I'm Hermione Granger," insisted the brunette, looking Stephen up and down as she added, "And there's no way you're…him! I mean, you're too tall, too arrogant and you're not even wearing glasses. Also, you're right; I've read all my schoolbooks by heart and even practiced a few spells, and they've all worked out for me. In fact, once I'm done with Neville, I'm hoping to meet the real Harry Potter, so I can help him understand that the world his Mother comes from, my world, is better and he should help me make people see that."
Stephen actually felt a flash of rage cross his mind.
Having lost a family – three-times now, in point of fact, twice being Christine and Donna, while the third was Potter's family – and never had the chance to get them back without some other stuck-up fools getting in his way, he'd found he had a bit of an Achilles Heel for people wanting to usurp or disgrace their memories.
Hell, in his Sinister Strange timeline, he'd even tried communing with Donna using the Darkhold, though what happened next is another story.
In the meantime, Stephen glared at the obnoxiously-bossy, self-important Granger bitch stood before him…
And, suddenly, he had a flash of inspiration.
"You know, Miss Granger, that is an interesting path to take," said Stephen, stepping back from the brunette before he nodded. "And, of course, you're right, there's no way I could be the boy you may be thinking I am. So, how about I help you claim him? It might also help you find your toad."
"How?"
"With a spell of my own design," said Stephen and, as he'd expected, her eyes lit up greedily. "It's a simple spell, but it's remarkably powerful; want to learn it? I promise, once you do, nobody will be able to stand against you, least of all this Neville-boy or even famous Harry Potter."
"Finally, you're doing the right thing," sneered Hermione, shoving her way forwards – why? Stephen didn't know, unless she just had a way of forcing herself on everyone in her way – before she closed the door as she added, "But you know you're not supposed to use magic outside school; still, since you're helping me, I suppose I can promise not to tell the teachers."
"And I thank you," replied Stephen, flicking his wrist, which caused a dark-wood wand to fly into his hand; lifting it, he stared deep into Granger's eyes as he said, "Now, watch carefully; this spell has quite a complex string of movements, but I promise. It'll all work out in the end…"
With that, he began moving the wand through the air and, again, as expected, the stupid little girl followed the motions like a hypnotised victim watching the swirling spirals, or the back-and-forth pencil. She even continued looking smug, as though she believed she was going to use this spell on Stephen himself, maybe to get him to teach her all his tricks and make her his better.
'Silly little…what's the word? Oh yes; Mudblood,' laughed Stephen, flicking and tracing the wand again as he said, "Now, one last move…watch closely; you might want to lean in…"
She did!
"There we go," said Stephen, smiling coldly as he explained, "And now, we make one…last…move!"
On his last word, he grabbed Granger's head with his free hand; before she had a chance to break free, Stephen slammed his wand hand over the other side of her head, causing Granger's eyes to widen in alarm as strands of magical energy started to flow from each side of her head, over to Stephen's clasped hands and into the Strange Supreme himself.
WIHP
What the stupid, insufferable know-it-all hadn't noticed, while watching Stephen's wand, was that what he was actually tracing was the outline of a powerful binding and draining spell, eerily similar to that which had first turned Stephen into Strange Supreme, but with a deeper, more-permanent fix on his victims.
Unlike the absorption spells that allowed him to consume the powers of others, this spell didn't just drain something away.
It left something in its place that Stephen had, honestly, thought he'd need longer to find, but, again, he forgot how stupidly-naïve this world's so-called magic users were.
Case in point, Miss Hermione Granger.
WIHP
"And now…we release…"
Hermione fell to the ground, while Stephen sneered as he rubbed his hands together, his eyes darkening as he felt the dregs of all he'd taken from her sift in through his mind, making him scowl as he shook his head, looking down at the girl.
"I knew it; a silly little latchkey kid who allowed herself to arrogantly assume the magical world would kowtow to her claims of greatness, all the while coming to bow down and worship the ways of the non-magical, simply because your parents indulge you, while running off to their dentist surgery dullard jobs…dentists' kid. How did I not guess that? You stink of peppermint…"
Scoffing at his own ignorance, Stephen pressed on, "And while you might have a scholar's gift, you let your knowledge be mistaken for greatness, when all you really are is a copycat without a single thought in your head, and a love for teachers and those who tell you what to do because you know they make the rules, so they know best…how appropriate, Miss Granger."
Here, Stephen scoffed audibly as he looked down at the shaking girl.
"The funnier part of it all, however, is your delusion that you would be able to use wizards you believe are lower down the totem pole than you, just because you want to believe they know nothing, while you know everything. So, you set up a faith in Muggle ways and try to advance this already way-past-outdated world to match your ways and dreams…world domination using Muggle means…Red Skull would probably have loved you, stupid girl…shame he's not here in this world. Ah well, at least you can still be useful to me!"
"Hello."
Suddenly, Stephen was pulled back to the present when Hermione Granger looked up at him, cocking her head to one side, while he smiled down at her with feigned warmth, "Hello."
The girl frowned.
"Who are you, sir? Are…are you my Master?"
'Success!' thought Stephen, smiling with apparent fondness as he nodded, holding out his hand to the girl.
"Indeed I am, my dear Mia; come on, up you get. You're such a clumsy thing, but, don't worry, Master forgives you for your stupidity…this time."
"Yes Master," said the brunette, taking his hand.
Before Stephen could say anything else, however, another voice cut him off;
"Well…now there's something I didn't expect to see at Hogwarts…"
Chapter 3 and, holy cricket: it looks like this Harry isn't quite so willing to allow Little Miss Nightmare to run rampant around his world, but what will happen to the stupid little Mudblood as she serves her better?
Also, who is at the door and what will they say about Stephen owning a pet?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Hmm…maybe this world has potential, after all;
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