Chapter Text
Chapter I: Hubris
It wasn’t fair.
I'd been in an orphanage for as far back as I could remember. I didn't even know my own birthday, only that I was born in 1875. I had been diligent in my studies, wanting to avoid a life of hard labour. For my efforts, I was taken in by a Chinese accountant at the age of twelve, adopting his last name as per custom. He was not unkind, but he was miserly and had a chip on his shoulder. He obviously wasn’t interested in actually adopting a son, wanting an employee who would work for room and board. For the three years I was with him, he was always "Mr. Lam". The highlight of my stay was my unfettered access to his library, and his extensive collection of fiction. Mr. Lam’s one kindness in those three years was that he taught me to read other languages when he noticed I'd quickly devoured all the English books in his collection.
His collection of foreign texts kept me entertained until the day an owl dropped a mysterious acceptance letter into my hands, from a "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". That was when I learned my birthday was on August 22, and that I had just turned fifteen. Mr. Lam showed me kindness for the second time that evening. When I showed him the letter, he was unexpectedly envious. He explained that magic was real, and that I was a wizard. The texts in his library were not fiction, but described a world he lost the ability to live in when his parents died due to his inability to use magic. He was a "squib", and had moved to Britain for a new life as a result.
Eleazar Fig showed up the next day, where I learned that I was a "late bloomer", and the vast majority of witches and wizards were accepted when they turned eleven. Professor Fig gave me a second-hand wand and became my tutor, preparing me for admittance to Hogwarts as a Fifth Year student. He was my mentor, the first father figure in my life, and represented escaping Victorian London for a bright future in a wondrous magical world.
Now he was dying in front of me.
It wasn’t fair. The two of us survived being attacked by a dragon on the first day of school, and for months on end he supported me while I fought a one-man war against the Rookwood Gang and Ranrok’s goblin rebellion, uncovering ancient secrets and growing in power.
It just wasn’t fair. I had won! Ranrok consumed the ancient magic in the repository under Hogwarts, turned into a dragon, and I still managed to kill him. Yet debris rained down the cavern in his death throes, and large chunks had buried Professor Fig. I had cleared the debris and uncovered my mentor, half crushed and dying.
It's not fair.
I'm instantly flooded with regret that I'd never learned any healing spells beyond Episkey. I had never needed anything more, in spite of near-daily attempts on my life by dark wizards and hostile beings, but even empowered by my ancient magic it does nothing more than make my father-figure more comfortable while he slowly dies in front of me.
"You must contain it," he gasps, "remake the repository..." The ancient magic that escaped from Ranrok’s corpse swirls before us both, filled with possibilities.
I shake my head sharply, "No, I can make use of it."
Fig looks at me sternly, a trace of disappointment in his voice. "It was made by Isidora from the pain of students, you must not consume it."
"But you’ll die!"
His face softens at my anguished cry, and he says gently, "We all die sometime, Jeffrey. My wife is waiting for me on the other side."
My shoulders slump, and I turn to stare at the swirling magic. It would be unethical and immoral to consume it, a betrayal of everything Professor Fig and the Keepers tried to teach me. Yet recreating the repository would just mean pushing the problem onto later generations once again. I know can do better than that. I’m a Ravenclaw, top of my year in spite of starting four years behind my classmates, and the O.W.L. exams had seemed laughably easy to me. I could see it, the way the magic was unnaturally contained and condensed. I could turn it against itself, use its own power to disburse it.
If I used the excess power that would leak from the process to heal Professor Fig, that was just an unintentional benefit. I’m not taking a risk for selfish reasons, it’s obviously the moral and responsible thing to do. Yes, I convince myself. It would ensure that no one would be able to try again decades later, without me there to stop them.
Still staring at the swirling mass of ancient magic swirling in front of me, I say confidently, "I think I can disburse it."
He answers after a moment, his trust and confidence in me still evident in spite of his voice getting weaker with each word. "That would be ideal. Do it if you can, but don’t push yourself."
I lift my wand, taking control of the mass of swirling magic. Honed by months of life threatening experiences, my control proves more than sufficient as I watch the swirling mass filter and cleanse itself by my will. Excess purified magic leaks from the process like I predicted, more than enough that it could empower an Episkey beyond its limits and heal more than minor injuries... such as a man half-crushed by debris.
I seize control of the excess, more ancient magic than the sum total of what I had absorbed before over the entire course of of the war, and begin channelling it through myself. As I start to direct it into the most powerful Episkey in history, I hear an alarmed shout as my vision is overwhelmed by a blindingly bright mass of light.
I have just enough time to recognize my hubris before everything goes dark.
It just isn't fair.
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I can’t see anything, I can’t hear anything... yet I can still feel the chill of the cavern.
I hear the sound of a drop of water falling, and realize that I was wrong. I can hear, there just wasn’t anything to hear. The sounds of the battle around me as the professors of Hogwarts defended the school are gone. I gesture with my wand, non-verbally casting Lumos and causing the tip of my wand to glow faintly.
The twisted remains of the Repository are still in front of me, but there is no cloud of swirling ancient magic, and most importantly no Professor Fig lying at my feet. I keep the light dim in case there are enemies still around, but I can see that while the debris from the battle remain scattered about the carven, an area had been cleared around me. I sigh and begin walking back up into Hogwarts, hoping I didn’t mess anything up too badly.
Hogwarts looks different. That’s my first thought when I exit the hidden chambers into the forbidden section of the library. No one is around, and when I walk out of the library the next thing I notice is that the scones on the wall are missing. Without that inter-Hogwarts Floo powder network, I’m forced to walk through the strangely deserted corridors to get to the Room of Requirements, which has served as my base of operations ever since Deputy Headmistress Weasley gave me access.
I pass by a window and freeze in surprise when I glance outside. It had still been spring when Ranrok and his forces attacked, but outside it looked like the end of summer.
"Why are you at school, young man?"
The voice of a woman behind me makes me spin around, my wand jumping into my hand as I drop into a combat ready position at the sight of two unfamiliar adults. Behind me was a tall, grey-haired witch in emerald-green robes, standing next to tiny little wizard in blue. Both look startled rather than alarmed at the wand I drew on them, as if it didn’t occur to them I would cause them any harm.
"What excellent form! I haven’t seen that stance in years!" The tiny wizard beams at me, and he strangely sounds more like a genuinely proud mentor than a condescending enemy.
Wary and confused, I lower my wand just enough that I’m not pointing it directly at them, and ask "Who are you?"
While drawing my wand on them had simply startled them, the question actually seems to surprise them. The friendly looking wizard sounds a little confused when he answers, "I’m Professor Flitwick, the head of your house."
I respond sharply, "The head of my house is Professor Hecate."
Professor Flitwick looks at me in confusion, and for a horrible moment I wonder if I somehow accidentally altered reality in my hubris. He murmurs softly, "Actually, I don’t recognize you..."
The stern-looking witch calmly interjects, "I think I do. Professor Filius Flitwick is the current head of Ravenclaw house. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, current Headmistress of Hogwarts. What year do you think it is?"
I frown as I comprehend what she’s implying, and answer "It’s 1891. In the middle of June."
Her face softens and she says sympathetically, "It’s August of 2022. Welcome back, Mr. Lam."
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I walk in a daze through the corridors, the professors allowing me to wander freely while watching me carefully. As they follow me, they explain what they know. Sadly, Professor Fig did not survive. He was discovered next to a perfectly spherical ball of indestructible white stone, and the Ministry had concluded I was in stasis inside. When the sphere vanished, it triggered an alarm in the Headmistress’ office and the professors had actually been looking for me.
Professor McGonagall recognized me because my school portrait is actually in the history books, and I'm credited with defeating Ranrok’s goblin rebellion, destroying the Rookwood Gang, and single-handedly pacifying the Scottish Highlands around Hogwarts.
I come out of my daze to realize I’ve lead the professors to the Room of Requirements. To their great surprise, the entrance simply appeared in front of me when I approached. The layout of Hogwarts may have changed, but the ancient magic of the school still recognized me.
I enter the room, and to my surprise I discover a small army of house-elves at work, refilling and collecting from the semi-autonomous ingredient-growing and potion-making devices I’d created during the war. I had essentially created a potion factory to support my war efforts, using the reagents grown and collected from the magical beasts I’d collected. Even more surprising, the house-elves are all wearing what look like proper uniforms. I've never seen a properly dressed house-elf before. Whenever a house-elf notices me looking at them, they wave excitedly at me.
There is a small pop, and a familiar looking house-elf appears beside Professor McGonagall. He’s older than when I last saw him, but my face breaks out into a smile at a familiar face. "Deek!"
Deek gives me a friendly nod, then turns towards Professor McGonagall and bows apologetically. "Deek is very sorry, Headmistress, but this area is off-limits to Hogwarts staff without express permission, and interference is not allowed."
The Headmistress looks incredibly surprised. "Off-limits? A secret room in Hogwarts where our house-elves are working on something?"
Deek shakes his head as he points to a previously unnoticed document hanging on the wall near the entrance. He bows apologetically again to the Headmistress as he explains "They are not Hogwarts house-elves, they belong to Mister Lam."
I stare at him, momentarily flummoxed as the professors examine the document. I look at the house-elves and realize I do feel a faint connection, much like the one I had with Penny. I wonder if Penny is still alive. She was younger than Deek when I first met her, when an Auror forced her owner to sign her over to me. Her owner would sell a shop haunted by a poltergeist to unsuspecting victims, then reclaim the property when the poltergeist inevitably drove them mad. Unfortunately for the perpetrator, I defeated the poltergeist, and the Auror who had been investigating the criminal finally had the evidence to step in.
My thoughts are interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who had been carefully examining the framed document. "Deputy Headmistress Weasley signed a contract with Vesters and Venum to give them control of this room in exchange for funding and resources. There is an addendum that this is valid in perpetuity without requiring renewal, signed by Headmaster Dumbledore!"
Deek nods solemnly, and explains "Headmaster Dumbledore was the only one who found this version of the room."
"Wait," I interrupt, "Vesters and Venum? That’s the name of my shop in Hogsmeade." Before anyone can respond, a phoenix bursts out of one of the vivariums at the back at the room. It lands on my shoulder and nuzzles me affectionately, prompting me to carefully stroke their feathers. "It’s good to see you, Ignis, I guess most of my other fluffy friends have died of old age. It’s just their kids in there now, isn’t it?"
Professor McGonagall looks at me thoughtfully before turning to regard the house-elves busily working the apparatuses in the room. "V&V is the largest supplier of rare potions and ingredients in the world. There are bigger suppliers of more common potions and ingredients, but V&V is known for being able to readily supply things no one else can. Like Phoenix feathers." She glances at the contract again, and adds "I should probably speak to this representative of V&V, a ‘Penny’."
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Hogsmeade is slightly different from what I remember, though I find my shop easily enough. The outside is much the same as when I last saw it, though cleaner and in better repair. Inside my shop I see no customers, but two house-elves seem to be busy putting together several orders. From the faint connection I feel, I can tell they also belong to me. It’s all still very strange to me.
A familiar face peeks out from the back of the shop, and I catch Penny as she runs over to me and hugs me tightly around my legs. "Master Lam! Penny knew Master was still alive!" She also looks like she’d aged, but nowhere near as much as Deek.
I vaguely recall that depending on who they were bound to, house-elves can live for centuries. I laugh, and pat her on the back. "It’s really good to see you, Penny. Whatever have you done? The new Headmistress says our business is one of the biggest in the world!"
She beams up at me. "Penny said she wanted to run a business, and Master Lam said okay."
I look over at the other house-elves in confusion. "Why are there all these house-elves that are bound to me now?"
She looks proudly at me. "Master Lam said Penny should do her best, so Penny read those books Master Lam gave her and studied. Penny took profits to buy house-elves and expand the business to make more profit and buy more house-elves to expand the business... did Penny do well?"
I smile warmly at my friend. "You did very well, Penny. I’m very impressed and proud."
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Refreshed from sleeping in my bedroom within the Room of Requirements, I quickly found myself in London with Professor McGonagall. The Knight Bus that took me from the train station to the entrance for the Ministry of Magic was fascinating, and I was so distracted analyzing the structure of the charms involved that I didn’t even notice the professor looking impressed at how nonchalant I was about the often violent movements the bus would make.
London in 2022 is very different from London in 1890. The change in architecture would probably have been fascinating, but I barely even noticed the vast amount of sleek cars moving at high speed along the well developed roads. No, I was busy being delighted at modern clothing. It seemed scandalously immodest, revealing that girls had the most fascinating curves.
Professor McGonagall keeps a hand on my shoulder, steering me to the public entrance of the ministry. She seems to be both amused and relieved that the famous child soldier from a century ago was behaving like an ordinary horny teenage boy.
Entering the Ministry takes me back to my first introduction to the world of magic, less than a year ago. Entering through a toilet was funny, and the hall beyond was awe inspiring. I'm soon on my way to meet the Minister of Magic herself, Hermione Granger. Minister Granger turns out to be in her early forties, dressed in simple black work robes. The first thing she does is congratulate me on passing my OWLs, with an Outstanding in every subject except Divination, where I only got an Acceptable. To be fair, I barely cared about Divination while all the other subjects kept me alive. Even Astronomy had been necessary to decipher those strange relics scattered around the Scottish Highlands.
She walks me through a large amount of paperwork, mainly to establish that I’m alive and entitled to certain rights and assets. I’m surprised and moved to discover that prior to his death, Professor Fig had updated his will to leave everything to me. The two women politely pretend not to notice as I wipe away tears.
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Part of the paperwork was to make it easier for me to access my vaults at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, which are apparently something I have now. When I presented the documents to a goblin banker, he immediately called for someone else to lead me deeper into the bank. They took a drop of my blood, verifying my identify, and gave me two keys – one newly created to access my personal vault, and the other left to me by Professor Fig.
The contents of the Fig family vault wasn’t impressive, but the fact it was left to me made everything feel far more valuable than any amount of money that could have been there. Not that I needed to worry about money, because my personal vault was filled to bursting with money. As I gaped at the mountains of neatly stacked coins, the goblin escorting me explained that V&V was a sole proprietorship, and thus there was no distinction between business and owner. As far as the bank was concerned, V&V and I were one and the same. That was why the bank manager himself was escorting me, and he rather strongly advised me not to go crazy and spend everything. That would remove all operating funds from V&V, inevitably causing bankruptcy. Technically V&V only employed house-elves and was supplied by my Room, so there were no business expenses. In reality, many people were employed at V&V affiliates all over the world, and many more in secondary jobs like delivery and marketing. Payroll alone was sizable, and suddenly driving a large Wizarding World employer into bankruptcy because I felt the urge to buy a dozen planes would be a Bad Thing. Looking at the goblin staring seriously at me, I decided not to ask what a plane was.
I reported to the test for an Apparition License afterwards, as apparently that had become a thing sometime after 1891. While normally I had to be seventeen to apply, it was noted in the history books that I regularly performed a sort of dodge-apparition during battles. After a brief demonstration Minster Granger arranged for an exception, and it only took a few minutes of tutoring for me to fully apparate instead of the dodging variant I developed and used hundreds of times before. I easily passed the test, and received my license. I didn’t know what the point was, since the world was so different I was unlikely to be able to properly picture a destination for apparition anyway.
The last thing I had to go through before I could be properly and officially reintegrated into society was something called a psychiatric assessment. Over the course of two weeks I had multiple meetings with a psychiatrist, Dr. Lengyel, and I also met with Minister Granger a few times for more paperwork and to discuss my possible future.
I spent my free time reading, trying to catch up with the rest of the world. I also ventured onto something called the Internet. It was a chaotic, strange and sometimes scary place that nonetheless was full of information, often false. I purchased a car that the Internet assured me was "cool", and successfully replicated the enchantments on the Knight Bus. That resulted in Minister Granger looking exasperated and more paperwork, but I was allowed to keep my new toy after taking Muggle driving lessons and getting yet another license. It seems like everything required licenses in 2022.
During my discussions with Dr. Lengyel, it was decided that I shouldn’t stay at Hogwarts or in London. They were familiar enough locations that I often expected to see a familiar face, expectations which would be shattered when I remembered they were long gone. The discrepancies in my expectations and reality started causing me to emotionally shut down, and Minister Granger suggested I attend school at the United States.
I had never been to America, and there would be no expectations of anything there. Ilvermorny was an obvious choice, but Dr. Lengyel thought another School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may be too close to an experience to my time at Hogwarts. Plus I had already passed my OWLs and there was no doubt about my magical abilities, it was just my general education that was woefully out of date.
The three of us decided that I should attend a school in Vermont. It was founded for Outcasts, people who didn’t fit in, so they could find peers and learn to integrate into society. However, even with help from the Minister of Magic it wasn’t until October that I found myself heading to Nevermore Academy.