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Hogwarts
–Damian Hawthorne–
His eyes snapped open as the small and subtle magical ping told him it was time. Time to start completing the goals he had in his mind when he came to Hogwarts. Reading or copying, whichever was easier and faster, the entire Hogwarts library and exploring the Magical marvel of a Castle, were the two most important ones. The rest of it was mainly to do with getting out of this mandatory education hell as fast as possible.
He got up from his bed mechanically, ignoring the snoring coming from the other side of the bed. That was Terry. Apparently, the guy, taking his tolerance for friendship, had requested a dorm change, and had moved into his own dorm, becoming his only roommate for the rest of the year, as the allocations were now locked down, according to the Prefects anyway.
With a twitch of his finger, the blanket was neatly folded up, the bed done as his feet landed on the cold floor, soundlessly. Taking his wand with him just in case he stumbled into someone and had to explain his magic use, he marched out of the dorm, noting the total silence all around the lobby as he stepped down into the common room.
His senses flared out around him, just in case someone was hiding behind a charm or something, and only after he had confirmed the coast being clear, he stopped out of the dorm.
It had been over a week since the classes began, and in that time, he had played the role of an ordinary student of pureblood descent. He showed familiarity with spells and magical theory when it was obvious and made sure to show his inexperience with spells when it was appropriate.
An above average in terms of theory, average in terms of spell execution, outright poor when it came to Quidditch because that was one landmine he was never making the mistake of stepping on, not with Harry Potter already becoming the star of his house overnight when his, apparently, genetic mastery of the Flying Broom was revealed, leading to bending of previously stringent rules by his Head of House.
Impartial, his ass.
It was perfect, this carefully cultivated persona he had made for himself, to show to anyone in Hogwarts, because that's all this was. A persona, a fake personality, to show everyone, get his year in, become a legal adult in the magical world, and then just f*ck right off to wherever he wanted to go. That would most likely be Kamar Taj, but still, the freedom to do so was important.
It was still too early to tell conclusively, but so far, he had fooled everyone into becoming that uninteresting, noble, pureblood kid who was so far below the line of succession that it was not even funny. He was not desirable to the pureblood crowd, and he was not desirable to the lions. He was not even smart enough to be desirable to the bookworms, nor was he so talented in some single subject to be singled out by some teacher.
All in all, it was kind of remarkable how unremarkable he had managed to present himself as, despite never needing to do so, in his previous life. He wondered if he was a natural born actor here or if the people here never really bothered to look too deeply into students and their natures.
Maybe most 11 year olds do not display such sociopathic tendencies and intentionally sabotage themselves in every single interaction, to the point that most people lose interest in talking to them. Well, save for Terry, who had taken to him as if he was some kind of life saving elixir. No matter how short his replies were, and how clipped his replies were, Terry's enthusiasm remained unbound.
The kid kind of grew on him over the days, so he did not give him the planned cold shoulder. Nevertheless, he did not forget his original goal of coming here, to explore the magical world that was probably hidden inside these walls, and he was not talking about the Slytherin Chamber.
As he moved out of the dorm and began heading to his destination, he froze, sighed, and then turned around to a sight that would have been ridiculous if only his eyes hadn't been subjected to the same sight for the past three nights, without fail.
The sight of Tommy, the House Elf, smoking a cigar, looking at him with those beady, suspicious eyes, blowing smoke towards him, only for the smoke to get banished mid way as Tommy used his magic without any hand gesture.
Honestly, after the second time Tommy caught up to him, he expected a visit from someone. Maybe not Dumbledore, but at least from his Head of House. But apparently, Tommy here was a bit of a rebel, in the sense that he would only inform anyone of his activities if there was any real risk of him being in danger, in which case, Hogwarts herself would intervene, in Tommy's own words anyway.
Meanwhile, he had to deal with a House Elf that apparently never slept, never responded to his calls for some reason, and was always on the prowl, hunting down any students that did not submit to the frankly tyrannical bedtime schedule that Hogwarts had unknowingly applied to every first year student here.
Rules aside, Tommy never really forced him to go back inside, but just observed. Now, for the past three nights, he took advantage of that, pestering the Elf for more and more information about whatever question he could think of. Tommy was not always forthcoming, but even his reluctant answers were enough for him as that was just new data.
Tonight, however, he had a goal, and he was not about to let Tommy come into his way. With that in mind, "What do you want, Tommy?"
The House Elf dressed in a crisp pillow case, finished blowing his smoke before turning to him, "Hoggy wants you to sleep. You know that."
Ugh. Not this again. What was Hogwarts, his mother?!
"Yes, I'm aware," He said before continuing to walk to his destination, fully aware that Tommy was following suit at a relaxed pace, without making any sound whatsoever. In his short time here, he had come to the realisation that his preconceived notion about House Elves and their demeanour was not wrong. Most of them were like that, which meant his reliable and precious books hadn't lied to him.
Tommy was just…different. He acted more like a tired but still defiant House Elf who had seen the realities of the outside world and had grown stiff, cold because of that, working in Hogwarts or for Hogwarts just because he felt like it, or maybe so he doesn't die without a purpose.
The sass, that was unique, too. Someday, he might have to go back to Newt and make the meeting between Newt Scamander and Tommy of Hogwarts happen. It would be a blast to witness, even with the Looney Tunes stuff that Newt had done in the past decade or so, which led to him essentially banishing himself to that pocket dimension that remained untouched from everything basically.
To think the ICW, even under Dumbledore, had designated Newt as a risk to the organisation's continued functioning under the current engagement laws. That was verbatim, in the sentencing reports he read, that were smuggled out of the ICW and available for sale in the black market, like most reports were.
Translation of that phrase being that Newt was becoming too influential and his points were just making too darn sense for the ICW to publicly defy, so they brought in some of the charges for crimes that he did commit, in his love for magical creatures, and sentenced him to the harshest possible extent. Even then, even after all that, he escaped and now had a scary wizard as a protector, not to mention the literal Dragon that could somehow manipulate gravity that guarded him and his little pocket dimension.
Voltrok. To this day, he had no idea of any dragon species that even remotely resembled Voltrok. He was intelligent, massive, not to mention supremely powerful because he could manipulate one of the most fundamental forces of the universe. And he was Newt's official guardian.
Clearly, Mother Nature loved him and would not let him stop in his mission. He just wondered if fighting not just entire Noble Houses, but governments, the Goblins, the Witch Covens, the Vampire Covens, the ICW, and even the Native American Sanctuaries, just to rescue more and more magical creatures, was worth it at this point.
The image of Newt just running from a place clearly on fire, with his signature suitcase, stuffed to the brim with rescued creatures, with Voltrok flying behind him, after having laid fire to anyone in Newt's way, was amusing to him, as he snorted and finally reached his intended floor.
As his body moved on autopilot and allowed him to reach the destination that he had been to almost a dozen times in the past week or so, he turned around to find Tommy, the same as before, with that cigar in his mouth, looking up at him with that tired gaze, not speaking at all.
Knowing that escaping the all knowing gaze of Hoggy and her tiresome minion was impossible, at least as long as he was within these walls, he asked him, "Alright. What do you want?"
"I told you," Tommy replied, "Hoggy–"
"No, I know what Hoggy wants. I am asking, what do you want?"
Tommy's eyes shone at that, his slouching body straightening up slightly as he took the cigar out of his mouth, "What do you think Tommy wants?"
Deadpanning at the infuriating House Elf, who he did not want knowing about the Room of Requirements or its many functions that he was no doubt going to discover today, he guessed half heartedly, "Cigars?"
He paused, his eyebrow raising as Tommy almost vibrated in place, "Really? That's what you want? Cigars?"
Tommy did not say anything, but his body had become blurry at this point. Apparently, Cigars were to him what magic was to a Split soul.
"You know what, Tommy? The first week I am out of here, I will get you Cigars. The best money could buy." Tommy's form began vibrating so much at his words that, briefly, it looked like he had become the avatar of the Speed Force, before he disappeared with a pop, leaving behind only Hoggy, who was undoubtedly disappointed by how the situation unfolded.
Leaving that behind, he walked ahead, and after recognising the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he took a moment to recognise the barminess of Barnabas, and snorted as he was hit with clubs by the trolls over and over again.
Ignoring that peculiar tapestry, he walked back and forth three times, keeping in mind Books, Scrolls, Tomes, and Grimoires in his mind. Basically, anything that could have knowledge stored within.
A/N - Voltrok is the Guardian of Elysium, or rather, its physical manifestation(but Damian doesn't know that). Introduced in Ch.14
If you would like to read ahead 12 chapters ahead, you can head to my P*treon.