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Hogwarts
–Damian Hawthorne–
Once again, it was 2 in the morning, and he was up, already rested after only a couple of hours of sleep. Having pushed some against the boundaries of using magic that he should not know or in a way that could not be explained, he knew that while his excursions around Hogwarts, and the high level magical equipment he had on hand was not a cause of concern, he could not cast high level magic without alerting either Hogwarts or Dumbledore.
Both of them were interconnected anyway, and to be honest, the only reason he had managed to keep Dumbledore off his case was probably that there was someone who cast a shadow on top of him.
Harry Potter. The Golden Boy, who had already clashed with Professor Snape in his Potions class. He was actually surprised to hear the boy already fighting back against any unfair behavior from Snape. Not even a month in, and the boy was already making the rounds on the rumour mill of Hogwarts and in a way that surprised him.
Students all around praised him for his practical magic skills, being the first to finish most practical demonstrations, and with ease as well. A feat that seemed ordinary to every student here. It made sense. After all, Harry Potter was the one who vanquished You-Know-Who. Why wouldn't he be able to cast magic that was literally taught to first year old kids in Hogwarts? It should be a child's(heh) play for someone who rode dragons regularly.
They didn't have his frame of reference. They didn't know just how unprepared Harry really was for the magical world as a whole. How Dumbledore basically just admitted a Muggleborn child into Hogwarts, under the guise of a pureblood kid, someone who was supposed to know all about the magical world.
Instead, Harry of that timeline had to deal with everything and learn stuff on the go. He was also kind of a pushover, at least when it came to himself. It would seem that getting Dumbledore's personal lessons for months on end had created some sort of spine in Harry, so much so that he was willing to push back a teacher on some issues.
Ofcourse, Snape being Snape must have tried to retaliate, but this was Harry Potter, not someone he could cow into submission using other means. Words would be all he could use, and now that they were rendered ineffective, he wondered what the next step would be in Snape's twisted bullying of someone who reminded him of his supposed love of life.
Obviously, all of that didn't concern him at all, as he was ready in seconds, to head out, only this time, he was not headed to the Room of Requirement. Armed with his magic, his barely functioning wand, and a small portable storage sack just in case he saw something that interested him, he headed out of his dorms and froze, sighing slightly as he realised something.
He could hear people talking, which meant people were still out in the common room, likely one of the seniors getting some reading in. He briefly debated using his stealth magic to get out, but they would notice the doors opening, so unless he wanted to knock them all out, he would have to do this the normal way.
On his way, he heard no less than three distinct breathing patterns with other overlapping over each other so there was a small group there, and while he was confident in his skill to knock each of them out before any of them could cause a ruckus, he couldn't guarantee the same without any of them seeing him, not without using his advanced enchantments and he hadn't yet tested any of them to see what reaction Hogwarts would have to them.
One thing was for certain, though. She would not appreciate him using that magic on his fellow students, seniors or not.
Exhaling, he straightened up, acted as if what he was doing was completely normal, and headed to the doors, ignoring the group of people, praying for a miracle as in them ignoring him.
"Hey," He paused, resigning himself to a pointless conversation as he slowly turned around, not showing any of his thoughts and, more importantly, no fear or worry over being caught.
"Yes?"
"Where are you going?" Cassian Rowle, the 7th Prefect, asked him with a calm tone, his eyebrows raised in a clear questioning manner. He groaned internally, as he kept his answers to one word.
"Out."
He went silent at that, his face twitching for some reason as another person in their seven person group study session spoke up.
"Oh?" Elara Whitcombe, a half blood who was basically hailed as the next Dumbledore when it came to Enchanting and, more importantly, Ancient Runic Enchantment, in which she was already a published author, with international recognition. The parchment all around her, full of diagrams and runes, was obvious, as was her amusement, as she was known to be the one who regularly broke curfew to work on her experiments, with tacit understanding from the staff, of course, who did nothing but remove points whenever she was caught.
"The firstie has an attitude, huh?" Oh, here comes the hazing he expected to experience only if he went into Slytherin. She stood up, her hand waving slightly as all the parchment around her were swept to the side and neatly piled on top of her desk. It was probably meant as a show of advanced magic, likely to intimidate or shock him.
Sucks to be her, he could do that in his sleep, without even thinking. In fact, he had to actively stop himself from using wandless magic every day because of his habits that were built up as a result of living alone in a place with no magical oversight whatsoever.
She walked towards him, standing just a couple of feet away from him as she looked him up and down, "Hawthorne, huh?" She mumbled to herself before gesturing at him in a go on move.
"Speak. Where are you going? Don't you know about the curfew? Our role model, Prefect here," She gestured to Cassian, who had already retreated to his books, likely trusting her to handle this, "..is duty bound to catch you."
"Only if I get caught." He retorted, already wary of talking but curious as to where this was going, especially since she was involved, one of the few who was brave(and stupid) enough to get into Ancient Runes as a major study and to succeed no less. She likely had a standing offer from the ICW because of her work.
She chuckled at that, before replying, "Yes, but what if you cost us points? We can't come in last like last time. Everyone will rip you apart if they find out that you were the reason we lost by a 2 point margin, just like last time."
"I won't get caught." He reiterated his point, and at that point, he realised just what his years of isolation had cost him.
His social skills. They had atrophied to the point of non-existence, and it was debatable if he even had them before he was transported here. A problem he should resolve soon, because a lack of clear communication might lead to more and more scenarios where people mistake him for the aggressor, just like in Wakanda.
Maybe he should go out more often. Terry was probably the exception, in the sense that the kid didn't mind one word replies, and likely preferred them, as he was quite the chatterbox when he was fired up.
By this point, her amusement had dried up, seeing that he hadn't reacted in any enjoyable way to her questioning, so she twirled the wand in her hand as she stoically replied, "It was not a question. You get your ass back in your bed, or I will have to take you there myself."
He snorted at the blatant threat, as if they could do anything to him, even as a group. Instead of flaunting his combat skill and drawing even more attention, he chose to deflect. Raising an eyebrow, "I thought girls weren't allowed on our floor."
"Ha! He's got you there, Ela," He looked to see Benedict Marchbanks, a distant relative of Griselda Marchbanks, the Governor of the exams he was supposed to take in about a year or so, to become a legally declared magical adult. The man was lean and had thick glasses on his face as he walked towards him, wand in a holster, but that was no consolation as he realised this situation was quickly spiraling out of control, leading to a scenario where he wouldn't be able to get out.
He was internally debating just giving up for now and going back to his room, as this whole situation had turned into a sunk cost fallacy. He was on their radar now and they would definitely be curious about his nightly activities and might even go so far as to keep an eye on him, even if he didn't go outside right now.
On the other hand, if he remained obstinate, he might just have to use magic to prove himself the top dog here, and that would be the height of folly, especially since they seemed to be quite the reasonable folks and had not drawn a wand on him. If they did that first, though, all bets were off, but he couldn't just resort to overwhelming force every time he was in a pinch.
Communication was important and it just so happened that it was the one skill he had never bothered developing because most people he encountered in the past few years were either full adults, weirdos themselves, or people who preferred to skip the small talk and only talk details. Never did he think that just not being able to talk like his age would get him in trouble.
"I would run along if I were you, firstie," Benedict said, not condescendingly, "She doesn't really care much, but Cassie back there cares a lot about his precious points."
He nodded, making a decision he didn't really agree with himself, but not seeing a way out of this without creating a scene, he chose to back off. As he was on his third step, he heard Elara speak again, curiosity coloring her tone, "Where were you headed anyway?"
He was about to ignore the question, when he paused, a veritable light bulb shining above his head as he had an idea. Looking at the sprawled papers and bowl of fruits, along with the expected teenage growth phase, they must be hungry. Grinning internally like a loon, he decided to take them all on a Great Adventure.
Turning around, he replied in the same tone as before, "To get food."
Let's see if they take the bait.
If you would like to read ahead 12 chapters ahead, you can head to my P*treon.