Aspects (HP/Twig/Worm/Pact) (AU)

[ManMagnificent]

AN: This is an experiment, or maybe that's not the right word and this is more an exercise. I've heard it said that I have a tendency to write characters in one voice. This is something I've been trying to change behind the scenes, paying attention more to the pictures of people in my head and how they speak, but I don't think I've achieved change yet. So this series will be an exercise in that direction. The first working title for this series was going to be Perspectives, but that was taken, then Frames of References, but that was taken too, so I was left with Aspects, which I think works from a second definition level. Anyway, as the theme of these titles gives away, this will be a multiple perspective series, following a distinct set of protagonists within the same universe.

I'm hoping, since I'll be in different heads, it'll take away the tendency I have to make people sound like Taylor, and I think the first part of that would be leaning less on Taylor as a protagonist. I mean sure, I'll still write from her perspective--I think it would be a crime to throw her in another universe and not explore that--but I'll be making an effort to explore this from the eyes of others first before I go to hers. It also helps that she'll be content for most of this story, why should be cleared from the first chapter of Black Sheep.

Anyway...

Elevator Pitch: Protagonists from the HP, Worm, Pact and Twig are flung back into child bodies a few months before their first year at Hogwarts. There's more going on, other facets (this might have been a good title, but I'm already sold on aspects), but those are better explored in story.

Black Sheep

• Chapter One
• Chapter Two

Black Birds

• Chapter One

Black Robes

• Chapter One

 

[ManMagnificent]

Black Sheep
Chapter One
​

I’d had a few months to get used to this and still it got to me.

My left fist hurt. The skin was scratched and remnants of blood were stark against my pale hand; my lip was busted, throbbing at the split, and the swelling was such that my mouth was slightly agape; then there was my eye, so swollen that I couldn’t see through it.

Sister Magdalena tsked and it was a little surprising. I hadn’t forgotten, because it was easier now to keep track of my thoughts for a longer amount of time, but I’d slipped, focusing in another direction while I’d let everything else fall to the wayside.

Sister Magdalena was a nun, dressed largely in black with a white hat-like thing I’d slipped and called ridiculous at one point, something I largely blame on being suddenly thrust into a religious world. She was a long woman, tall and thin, with a face that seemed too long and sharp, it was made worse because her lips were continually pursed, meaning it was hard to like her from first impressions. Even so, she was one of the better people that ran the orphanage.

“Honestly, Sylvester,” she said, getting low and dipping cotton in alcohol. “I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

“They were picking on Benjy,” I said, hissing a little as she started with my lip, dabbing it with the cotton and wiping away the blood. The pain was sharper than I remembered, but then that was supposed to be true, right? The memory of pain often dwarfed the experience of it.

Even so, it was a reminder of the past, when I’d lived a more exciting life in a different world, instead of this fever dream.

Sister Magdalena stopped, giving me a look. “You know,” she said, “that excuse would fly better if you didn’t get into fights constantly. If we didn’t keep on finding knives in your room.”

I shrugged. “Gotta be able to protect myself,” I said, smiling what I hoped was a roguish smile. She didn't buy it.

“You’re eleven, Sylvester,” she said. “You shouldn’t need a knife to protect yourself.”

I gave her a long look and waited, wanting the pieces to slot into place but they didn’t. A pang of loss reverberated because I’d lost it. However it’d happened, in one fell swoop I’d lost everything: The other Lambs were gone, or maybe I was gone and sent here; and the quirk provided by Wyvern, the only thing that might have been able to get me out of this, had disappeared.

I was ordinary and it grated.

Sister Magdalena sighed, dabbing more of the blood away from my lip. She pulled back, holding my chin up and forcing my head this way and that.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” she said. “The split isn’t too wide. Hand.”

I handed it over, hissing again as she dabbed alcohol.

Lillian would have stitched it or maybe not stitched, but pulled something out of her bag that would have made the split close faster. If she’d been here, then I wouldn’t have gotten the swelling in the first place and maybe my knuckles would be better.

If Mary were here then I wouldn’t have even needed to fight. She would have taken the lead, beaten the guy down and maybe I would have rubbed it in. The guy, Charlie McNamara, was big and burly, more fat than muscle, and being beaten by a girl would have been a hit at his ego. I wasn’t sure how, but I could see a situation where I would use that to needle him, find some chink that would eventually get me all I wanted from him.

But I couldn’t, because I’d lost it.

“There was a letter for you,” said Sister Magdalena, interrupting me from my brooding. “It’s why I’ve been looking for you for most of the day.”

“Who’s it from?” I asked.

“Some school I’ve never heard of,” she said. “Apparently, you’ve been accepted into their ranks.”

I frowned. “That sounds suspicious,” I said.

She shrugged. “Apparently it had something to do with your parents,” she said. “It’s all…rather odd. But a representative is expected to arrive in the next few hours to talk to you about it. This will be a bad showing, if we’re being honest.”

An excitement bubbled inside me and all at once it deflated. I’d thought that this might be a mystery, that I could treat all of this under the lens of a mission as a Lamb, but I wasn’t a Lamb anymore. I just wouldn’t be able to connect the dots the same way. I’d lost my edge.

“Whatever happens, happens,” I said with a shrug.

Sister Magdalena stroked my face, something that made shivers run up and down my spine. She gave me a long look. “I’ll pray that this goes well for you, Sylvester, because you are a good boy.”

I snorted but stayed quiet, letting her wrap bandages over my hand and thinking back to the time before. We’d succeeded in the end, achieved all we wanted and reached something of a truce between the Crown and our little patch of home. Everything should have been fine, I should have been able to run the country without trouble and instead there was this.

My mind was incredibly slow. I could focus now, choosing a thought stream and stick with it, even remember things past a few days and I didn’t have the hallucinations any more, but I was left all the weaker for it.

Within that slowness, the dullness of my mind, it was easy for time to pass; I let one of the other Sisters prepare some clean clothes for me, even fuss over my hair because they wanted me out of theirs. It took three hours before the woman arrived.

“I’ll be leaving you alone,” said Sister Agnes, and old woman built like a bull. I was surprised at how she didn’t react to the old woman wearing actual robes and a witch’s hat.

Focus, Sly, I thought. But it didn’t help my brain move any faster.

I knew the stuff, but it was deep within my mind, covered in mud and debris, all stuff I had to sift through to piece things together.

The woman gave me a long look, expression placid as she took me in. There was a way she was looking at me, how her eyes moved from my face to my hands that said she was taking in the injuries but I had no idea what she thought. She didn’t show anything, her posture was regal, taut and it wasn’t faltering as she looked at me, none of the quiver of disappointment I often saw in adults.

I wasn’t getting anything when I would have been able to read her like a book if I’d still been a Lamb.

She walked into the room, going to Mother Margret’s chair behind her desk. She sat, let out a breath, digging within the folds of her robes and pulling out an envelope. I frowned because I hadn’t seen any pockets, but I hadn’t been looking closely enough to be sure.

Jessie would have remembered.

There was that pang again, leaving me hollow as I remembered everything I’d lost. I closed my fist and hid the pain as my skin stretched, opening the scrapes a little wider. The pain gave me focus, pulling my attention away from everything else. It also made me aware that if I’d had Wyvern in my system I would have re-prioritised so that everything was pushed back, closed off that part of myself.

“Mr Lambsbridge,” the woman said and I started a little. I’d been in my head so much that I’d partially forgotten about her. Mary would have been disappointed. “I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, and I am proud to tell you, you have been accepted to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“Witchcraft and wizardry?” I said.

“Yes, Mr Lambsbridge,” she said. “I am a witch and you are a wizard.”

I let out a short laugh. “Magic isn’t real,” I said.

“It is,” she said and with that she handed over the envelope. There was too much distance between, I hadn’t moved since she’d come into the office, but she did nonetheless. The envelope fell out of her grasp, sliding through the air to me. I didn’t catch it so much as pluck it out of the air.

My first thought was wires. Mary could turn thrown knives. But the letter had been moving too slow and I would have seen them. My second thought was that it might be strands of translucent muscle, sending the letter to me, but this place’s technology had diverged from my history. It wasn’t bio-science that had taken off, but the hard sciences, feats of engineering that hadn’t been imagined where and when I came from.

My third thought…

“Okay,” I said with a shrug.

“Okay?” said McGonagall, there was a flicker of confusion, colour bleeding into her impassive expression, a little bit easier to read.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m a wizard, now what?”

“…you understood what I said, correct, Mr Lambsbridge?” she said.

“I’m a wizard. Yes,” I said, paying less attention to her and more the letter. I ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter, scanning over. It talked about my entrance to Hogwarts just as she’d said and there was another piece of paper, parchment, that had a list of all my school supplies. “I won’t be able to afford all of this. Not to mention where I’ll get them.”

“There’s a fund to help muggle-born students in your position,” said Minerva, and I had the sense that she was distracted.

“Where?”

“Where, Professor?” she said.

I gave her a look, unable to hide my frown. She noticed, stopping herself from having too big a reaction. I would have been able to pin it down before, get a sense of what she was feeling, what she was thinking, but there was none of that.

Over and over I felt empty, untethered, and I didn’t like it.

Maybe something in this world would make me whole again? Give me the sense of purpose that came with being a Lamb?

Until then, I’d have to play along.

“My apologies, Professor,” I said.

***​

It was a few weeks before I found myself outside of a dingy old pub. Not the type of place an eleven-year-old was supposed to be alone, but I loved it. It reminded me of the beginning, when it had just been me and Gordon. He’d been learning the ropes, wanting more than just the training he got at the Academy, and I’d thought I could retain skill. I’d been disappointed, but Gordon had been in his element.

Well you can now, a part of me thought. I still wasn’t the best fighter. I was scrawny and weak, more than not, I thought I could out think my way through a fight, but at least I was better. So much so that I might be able to take Jamie in a fight.

What I’d always wanted in a sense, but it was tainted by everything else.

I pushed the feelings back, focusing on this.

I’d spent the last few weeks going through London and trying to find anything connected to magic and I’d been lucky a few times, seeing strange people wearing robes or seeing a dog that fit more into my world than this world. But I still hadn’t connected it all and I wasn’t brave enough to just go talking to random people when I couldn’t read them.

So I’d had no choice but to wait until today to get a better sense of this world.

I went in, stopping and taking everything in. It was day, reasonably good London weather, with shafts of light peeking through an overcast sky. It had been dark, but not overly so, but going into the pub it felt as if it was out of phase with everything outside, giving the feel of a room with boarded up windows.

There were people, all of them dressed unabashedly in strange robes in a variety of colours. One man was even wearing a cloak that had the night’s sky and a few planets on it, watching it, the planets moved. There were also other things: People who were too short, their features too sharp, with pointed ears and pointy teeth; a group of people who were wearing black, their skin so pale it almost glowed and their section of the room darker than the dingy ambiance of the place; and an old woman with a nose that was too big, moles growing out of her face, almost all of them hairy, and a back so bent she was shaped like a cane.

I couldn’t help but smile, giggle because it was a step towards what I was used to. I wasn’t a Lamb, but maybe I could trick myself into believing that this place could be like home.

Looking past everything and I saw her, Professor McGonagall. She’d changed her robes, now wearing black robes with red and gold trimming in the arms and bottom; she wore a black hat, crooked, but it was less wrinkly than the one she’d worn before. She stood with three families and had just looked up from glancing at her watch when she saw me.

I started towards them.

“Ah, Mr Lambsbridge,” said Professor McGonagall. “You’re very nearly late.”

“This place was harder to find than I thought, Professor,” I said with a shrug. It was a lie, the real reason was because it had been hard to get up, to give myself that drive.

She hummed and I had the sense that she didn’t believe me, even if I couldn’t figure out why I thought that. It was grating.

“I’d like to introduce you to your year mates,” she said. “Hermione Granger.”

Said girl smiled. She was short and thin, but everything about her was attention grabbing, her bushy brown hair and too large front teeth. She likely didn’t feel self-conscious about them because her smile was unadulterated, not holding anything back.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Hermione Granger, standing between her parents. They smiled as well, giving small nods.

“Dean Thomas,” she said, and this time it was a black boy standing beside his mother. The boy was tall and weedy, his hair cut so short it was almost a buzz cut. Dean smiled and gave a wave, while his mother said hello.

“And Taylor Hebert,” said Professor McGonagall, pointing to the last girl. The girl was tall and thin, taking the features of both her parents; facial features from her father, probably the bad eyes too because they were both wearing glasses; and her hair from her mother. The girl gave a bored wave, paying less attention to me and more everything around her.

I couldn’t help but get the sense she was on her guard, that she was scouting.

“Hey,” I said.

“Since this is all of us,” said the Professor. “We should be on our way. Follow me.”

“Where are your parents?” Dean asked, their parents had moved so they were around all of us, something of a shield and meaning we could walk as a group.

“Dean,” his mother chastised.

“It’s okay,” I said, giving a shrug. “I’m an orphan.”

“Oh?” said Hermione, while Taylor only gave me a look. “Sorry.”

I shrugged again. “Never really knew them so it doesn’t matter.”

It was supposed to ease the sense of awkwardness, people trying to fumble past that, but it didn’t work. Instead it left something larger. I frowned, clenching my fists and anchoring myself in the pain.

“How’s the other guy?” Taylor asked. The question had been directed at me. I raised a brow. She gestured at my fists. They were bandaged, a new set of scrapes, this time on both hands. At least this time I hadn’t been punched in the face.

I grinned. “He’ll never fight me again,” I said. I looked at the parents and I caught the sense of disapproval, but none of them said anything, too focused around us. We’d walked through the pub and out a back door into a closed off alley. Professor McGonagall pulled out a thin, ornate stick, her wand, and tapped a set of bricks. The wall closing off the alley started to shift, bricks vibrating before they pulled back in a sequence and revealing an entire street.

I wasn’t the only one who stopped, wasn’t the only one who gaped because what?

I closed my eyes, trying to get a sense of how things had looked outside while going into the Leaky Cauldron. There hadn’t been space, not so much that these buildings could fit in. For that matter, there were buildings so tall that I should have been able to see them from the main street. Yet I hadn’t, because…magic?

On either side of the street were buildings, almost all of them were old and almost all of them looked bent. It was the clearest thing that they’d been built by magic because there wasn’t a sense to them. Some buildings had bases that were too small, getting larger the more they stretched up; others drooped, tilting forward like they were about break and fall; while another was in a space so thin no one should have been able to use its door, and yet as I watched, a woman stepped out of the door without trouble.

Then there were wares: Brooms were the first thing I saw, one of them even suspended in the air; there was a puppet show except the puppets didn’t have strings and they were going through a full-length play, a crowd in front of that particular show and watching; there was a shop that bent how space worked, looking like a cathedral with open windows and owls perching there, watching the world beneath us. It was all too much at once and it was amazing.

“Cor,” Dean muttered and I appreciated the sentiment.

“All of this?” said Mrs Hebert. “Done through magic?”

“An extraordinary network of spells, yes,” said Professor McGonagall. “One of the larger concentrations of magic to exist without the area affected sputtering into life. Which speaks to the degree of care that was taken into putting everything together.”

“Things can just come to life?” said Taylor.

“Yes,” said the Professor. “For that matter, Hogwarts is alive.”

“Because it wasn’t built right?” I asked.

“No, Mr Lambsbridge,” she said, tone reproachful. “But because of the degree of young and mischievous magic that call its walls home. Magic, in often case, reflects those who cast it.”

“Incredible,” said Mrs Hebert.

“All of this is,” said Taylor. “Makes me suspicious.”

I gave her a glance, smiling a little because she was my sort of girl.

Mrs Hebert sighed. “You’ve rubbed off too much on our daughter, Danny,” she said, though she wasn’t really looking at her husband. I could see it, though it felt different. Both Taylor and her father were on their guard, but for the former it felt like she was primed to move, while the latter was just waiting, scared of what might happen. The general sentiment, though, was true.

“Let’s be off,” said Professor McGonagall. “Our first stop will be Gringotts where you’ll exchange muggle money into ours.”

Something I didn’t really want to do. “Can I just explore?” I said. “I don’t really feel like going to a bank.”

“No, Mr Lambsbridge,” she said. “I don’t trust that you won’t add more bruises to your self.”

“Not to mention you’re only eleven or twelve,” Mrs Granger said.

“I’m an orphan,” I said absently. “I’m used to travelling on my own.”

That seemed to be a slap to the face for Mrs Granger. She gaped, thinking of what to say and then stopping. It felt good, to earn the reaction, but it rang hollow because I hadn’t been trying to manipulate, that’d been my tamper working. There was nothing to feel excited about in the move because I hadn’t consciously made it.

“Be that as it may,” said Professor McGonagall. “Come along.”

I was frowning as I followed, until I reminded myself that I could just come back. I still wouldn’t have money, I didn’t have money now, but I’d have unadulterated access to all of this.

“Where do you live?” Taylor asked. She was looking at me. Reading her there was the sense that she was reading me, even if I couldn’t parse what she’d gleaned. “Which orphanage?”

“Saint Augusta,” I said. “You know it?”

She shook her head. “But I could find out. Maybe we meet or something?”

“Yes!” said Hermione. “We could have like a play date, where we get to know each other before going to school.”

“That’d be cool,” said Dean. “Having people to talk with about magic.” He glanced at his mom before he whispered, “My sisters don’t like it when I talk about magic. They’re a little jealous.”

“I get that,” I said. “It’s something to watch extraordinary people from a distance.”

“Careful there, or you might sound elitist,” said Taylor.

“Aren’t we though? Being wizards?”

Professor McGonagall glanced back, but didn’t say anything.

“If you feel like that a second after finding out, I wonder if something like that’s already happened here?” said Taylor, looking around, still on her guard. “There’s nothing easier for humans to do than hate.”

“You’re a bleak lot, aren’t you?” said Dean, a little distaste in his tone.

“Or realist,” said Taylor with a shrug. The doors of the bank were open and we stepped in. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the building was larger on the inside than out and yet I was; it had an open space feel, with podiums stretching up at points and short men with pointed ears, long noses and sharp teeth standing on the other side.

“Goblins,” Professor McGonagall explained. “Go to a teller and they’ll help you exchange your money. Mr Lambsbridge, stay with me while I withdraw money for your supplies.”

I nodded and followed, chafing at all of this but having no choice. There was another world just out of those walls and I wasn’t exploring it, seeing how it worked and trying to figure it out.

Not that you can, can you? You’re less than, now. Not really Sylvester.

It sucked, but it was true. If I went out there then I’d likely be caught or I’d catch myself in a bad situation and wouldn’t be able to get out. Better now to just stop, not try to do anything I couldn’t pull myself out of.

***​

The trip through the bank went longer than I thought it would. Professor McGonagall, Ms Thomas and the Grangers were relatively quick, opting to exchange money and nothing else. The Heberts were the ones who made us stall. At some point they’d been offered the option to open a bank account with Gringotts, and they’d taken to asking a lot of questions about how the bank was run, what affected the price of muggle money relative to wizard money, the rates for different accounts and the rate to exchange money.

In the end, they’d opted to open an account at Mrs Hebert’s urging, which was itself a process that took a bit to get done.

“Finally,” I muttered when we were allowed to travel again, but that relief dropped again because the rest of the trip was incredibly boring.

First our robes, a practise that was only exciting because there was magical tape involved; then it was getting supplies. The others got brass scales—I got those too because Hogwarts didn’t have any second-hand ones—telescopes, cauldrons, dragon-hide gloves and other things that felt miscellaneous. Then books, another long stay because Mrs Hebert and Hermione made a point of cataloguing some books they thought were interesting, stretching out the experience. I would be getting my own books at Hogwarts, there were more than a few second-hand books on-hand.

All of it made worse because we were passing so many other exciting stuff.

We reached something of a high point when I got into the Ollivander’s Wand Shop.

“Who’ll go first then?” the old man said, an excited gleam to him. “Taking the first step to truly conquering magic.”

“Me,” I said and the excitement was back, the sense of purpose. Maybe there was a spell out there that might recreate the effects of the Wyvern formula, or maybe some form of magic. It was exciting to think about, that I might be the Sylvester I’d always been instead of this facsimile.

Ollivander chuckled. “Let’s begin, then,” he said and the process started. He pulled out his own wand and started waving it; a tape measure floated, measuring my arms as Ollivander asked me questions. He muttered under his breath all throughout while waving his wand and pulling out certain boxes from wall. Each box had a wand and each wand would be foisted into my grasp before being quickly pulled away before I could even really hold the things.

Finally on touching one wand I felt something, a sudden spark running through me, and that spark ran forward, letting lose a plume of shimmering green dust that faded before it could hit the ground.

“Dogwood,” said Ollivander with a smile. “Dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, very flexible. One of my personal favourite wand wood. It’s mischievous, very good for charms and jinxes.”

I made the mental note, hoping I’d remember, but more than anything looking at the thin, knobby stick that would give me the power to bend space if I applied myself.

“Wait,” I said. “What happens if I break or lose it?”

“Another wand may choose you,” said Ollivander. “But it won’t be as good a fit as that one. The wand chooses the wizard and not all of them might choose you.”

“Try not to lose it, Mr Lambsbridge,” said Professor McGonagall, as if it was that easy.

Hermione volunteered next. It didn’t take too long before she got hers: Vine, dragon heartstring core, ten and three-quarter inches. Taylor followed: Aspen, dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inch. Then Dean: Rowan, phoenix tail-feather, eleven inches.

“And that,” said Professor McGonagall, “marks the end of our day. Mr Lambsbridge,” she said and she pulled out a rucksack from a pocket—which didn’t even surprise me at this point. “This has been enchanted to keep your magical belongings and hide them from the others in your orphanage. I trust you’ll remember that the Statute of Secrecy exists and if you break it, you might be expelled from Hogwarts and your wand snapped.”

“I understand, Professor,” I said, taking the rucksack.

“Good,” she said. “Have a safe trip back home, all of you, and I’ll see you on your first day at Hogwarts.”

With that she turned and disappeared with a soft pop.

“Mum,” said Hermione, “Can I get a pet?”

Just as Mrs Hebert was saying. “I think I saw a library. Let’s pop in, see about getting a card.”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “that too?”

With Dean saying, “Ice cream!”

Finally, some room to breathe.

***​

Magic, I learnt, was split into branches: Charms, which were generally spells that gave something an effect; Transfiguration, which gave or changed the form of something; and Potions which were drink that could have charm-like or transfiguration-like effects. Charms were generally short lasting; Transfiguration was incredibly hard to learn and the people most proficient in it could be counted on one hand; which made Potions the easiest route.

I pulled my rucksack closer and kept an eye out on my surroundings. I wasn’t as adept as I’d been with Wyvern, but I still had my prey instinct and it usually went off even if I couldn’t parse the pieces. It was early evening, the streets had mostly cleared and shops were starting to close their doors, their patrons already gone.

I found an apothecary and got in, looking through their potion sets for anything that might help me. I didn’t find anything in the first potion shop, they seemed to care about medicinal properties more than anything and that wasn’t what I wanted. The next place was general purpose and I moved through its stocks. There was Invigoration Draught, but that only brought with it a surge of energy and took away the effects of fatigue than alter how I thought; there was a draught that caused temporary amnesia; one that could make a person speak only the truth; one that was a hallucinogenic; one that brought about synaesthesia; another that could push certain senses so they were more perceptive while dulling others.

“I’m closing up soon,” said a woman and I started. She was old, maybe in her late eighties and she wore the brightest of blue robes. She had a tired air about her, made worse by the heavy wrinkles and sagging face. “Want help with what you’re looking for?”

“Um…it’s…sort of…I don’t know what its name is or if it actually exists,” I said, putting on a smile. She gave me a bored look.

“You know what it does?”

I nodded. “It’s supposed to make you smarter,” I said. “Or at least more pliable.”

“Wyvern?”

My heart jumped. What were the odds that something like that existed and it was named as it had been named before?

“Yeah. Yes,” I said, because I didn’t really care. I could be me again.

“That’s restricted,” the woman said. “Ministry clamped down on it because it destroyed the brain. The woman who made the stuff got bored and didn’t perfect it after that. Not to mention she didn’t give out the recipe.”

Fuck. “That mean you don’t sell it?” I asked.

“Selling it would be illegal,” she said. Which I noticed wasn’t a no. “What’s your name?”

My prey instinct went off and I took a step back, trying to figure out what it was that was setting it off. I had the impulse to run, to hide, but this woman was a witch and there was no telling what she could do. Maybe I could jump her, she was old and would be frail. I could push her and run, not giving her time to get her wand.

“Simon,” I said. “Simon Ewesmont.”

“Sylvester Lambsbridge,” she said. I started forward and suddenly stopped, my arms hitting my sides and my legs slamming together. I fell face first, hitting the ground hard. I felt something stabbing at my back before I felt weightless, even if I couldn’t move, instead being guided through the air.

I caught sight of the woman as she pointed her wand, at once everything shifted, shutters and doors closing, and windows without shutters suddenly darkening. Candles all throughout the place lit, bathing it in a low red light.

She walked forward, guiding me with a point of the wand. We went to a back door, up a narrow flight of stairs and into a room above. She flicked her wand one direction and my body jerked to follow. Whatever spell she’d put on me faded and I could move for the barest second, but it was only enough so I could sit on a large chair and not be able to move again.

I could do nothing but watch as she went to a fireplace, light it with her wand, grabbed some powder and threw it into the fire. The flame flared, going green and she knelt into the fire. I hoped that she would burn, hoped that she would catch aflame and the spell would be undone, but that didn’t happen.

She talked even if I couldn’t hear the words, a long conversation before she pulled back, coming to a rise. The flame flared again, burning hotter and towering higher before a frame stepped through. I didn’t know her, too much had changed even if she had the same general features, it was that prey instinct again, telling me things without showing me why it believed those things: Genevieve Fray.

***​

“Sylvester,” she said and there was a smile to her that made alarm bells at the back of my head ring. But I couldn’t do anything, I was stuck, more than useless. “I’m genuinely excited to see you, even with the risk that it might be Sylvester the Noble.”

“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

“No,” she agreed. She’d been stylish before and she was still stylish now. She wore a black and red dress, with a lace frill at her neck; above the dress was a cloak, long enough that it might have hidden her dress, but moving so it showed beneath. She was the only witch I’d seen wearing heels. She reached into a slit in the cloak and pulled out a long brown stick, waving it around with poise.

She took three minutes before she was done, after which she pointed her wand at me, giving it a flick. The spell holding me in place unravelled and I could move.

“You’re neutered Sylvester,” she said.

I frowned, because it hurt, because it was true. “Not even a Lamb anymore,” I admitted.

Fray sighed. “You killed me,” she said. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

I frowned, searching and not finding it. “That isn’t true.”

Fray waved a hand. “You gave me Wyvern while leaving me in the dark,” she said. “As good as when we’d been dealing with…”

“I wasn’t me,” I said. “Too much damage from the Wyvern.”

She nodded. “You were a heavy thought in my mind when I was reinterpreting Wyvern,” she said. “The kind of break that formed in your mind. I wanted safeguards, put limiters in the formula, it was fortuitous that this happened and I was part of a world of magic. You were a heavy thought in other things I’ve been doing.”

“Do you know what this is?” She shook her head. I sighed. “I don’t like it. Things were good, all things considered, even subsumed I was still with them.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to go back,” she said. “I’ve set out feelers, given people names to pay attention to and you’re the first one that’s popped up. I think we’re alone, Sylvester.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a vial with green liquid.

“But perhaps we can be alone together?”

 

[CatsNDragons]

I am very much not familiar with this Wyvern stuff. Anyone mind helping a confused soul?

 

[Monshroud]

Seems interesting so far!

Can't wait for Pact elements to be introduced though!

Considering Wizards don't really traffick and bargain with and conjure "Others" and whatnot, not to mention the ritualistic forms of Sorcery, it's sure to be an interesting culture clash!

I wonder what a Wizard/Witch who performs a Practitioner's Pact/Ritual of Awakening could capable of...

 

[ManMagnificent]

I am very much not familiar with this Wyvern stuff. Anyone mind helping a confused soul?

Click to shrink...

It's a formula that was used by the protagonist of Twig, Sylvester Lambsbridge. If I'm remembering right, then it was a formula that maybe the brain pliable. It meant, if used right, you could sort of decide which features of your mind/personality to increase or decrease. The protagonist of Twig pushed and pulled the levers so he was adept at social manipulation.

 

[Monshroud]

So which protagonists from Pact will we be seeing?

I'm sure Mags The Goblin Queen would have a VERY interesting reaction to the Wizarding World type of goblins! To say that they're a BIT more cultured than their more supernatural counterparts would be an INCREDIBLE understatement!

 

[JackSl]

I am very much not familiar with this Wyvern stuff. Anyone mind helping a confused soul?

Click to shrink...

Spoiler: Wyvern

It's the name of the project that created Sylvester. In small doses the chemical allows for more flexibility of thought and fluidity in mindsets. Sylvester was meant to be the jack of all trades inside his group.

In long lasting usage, the brain deteriorates to such a degree that the user can't even distinguish reality from hallucinations and then they die.

Also finally more Twig fanfiction! Thanks OP

 

[devas]

I love you man. I really hope there are going to be future chapters of this.

 

[Zero51423]

I am very much not familiar with this Wyvern stuff. Anyone mind helping a confused soul?

Click to shrink...

Serum applied directly to the brain. Causes significant increase to brain plasticity. This makes the user very good at learning new things, thinking in new or abstract ways, compartmentalizing thoughts and thinking on one's feet but also does considerable damage to long term memory retention and was fatal if overused due to brain damage.

In Twig, Sy was used as a lab experiment so see just how far wyvern could be taken.

 

[ShyGuy91]

Interesting. Not really familiar with Twig, and only somewhat familiar with Pact. As long as they stay in character and don't immediately become BFFs after only knowing each other for a month then it looks like it will be good. Taylor, nor any of the others, don't seem like the type to become fast friends with someone in this setting. Hope they also keep their origins a secret. People that blurt out that they had a past life to a new friend really don't know, or even a trusted authority figure, doesn't seem like something any of these characters would do.

 

[Zero51423]

Interesting. Not really familiar with Twig, and only somewhat familiar with Pact. As long as they stay in character and don't immediately become BFFs after only knowing each other for a month then it looks like it will be good. Taylor, nor any of the others, don't seem like the type to become fast friends with someone in this setting. Hope they also keep their origins a secret. People that blurt out that they had a past life to a new friend really don't know, or even a trusted authority figure, doesn't seem like something any of these characters would do.

Click to shrink...

Maybe not fast friends, but I can see them becoming tentative allies pretty quick. They've all been through absolute hell and lost themselves in the process. I bet they're all going to have a hard time finding anybody else they can relate to in any significant capacity.

 

[Slice of Bread]

This looks interesting. I'm not that familiar with Pact or Twig, but I usually like your stuff so I'm sure it'll be good.

Also, as part of the ones who believe you do make sound other characters a little too much like Taylor, I can't wait to see how you manage other protagonist. On that note, Sylvester sounds kinda like I imagine Taylor would react if she appeared on this world alone and without powers, but he also feels very different at the same time.

 

[Monshroud]

Maybe not fast friends, but I can see them becoming tentative allies pretty quick. They've all been through absolute hell and lost themselves in the process. I bet they're all going to have a hard time finding anybody else they can relate to in any significant capacity.

Click to shrink...

I almost feel sorry for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Unless those three have been reincarnated as well, Taylor's sure to give them QUITE a lecture/speech on jumping into danger unprepared and making assumptions!

I also fear a good many of the Hogwarts faculty will not be escaping her attention!

 

[martin]

can i get a link to twig and pact?

 

[Daemir Silverstreak]

can i get a link to twig and pact?

Click to shrink...

Pact

and

Twig

Both by Wildbow. I'd say Pact is my favorite of his works.

 

[Malkavian]

I almost feel sorry for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Unless those three have been reincarnated as well, Taylor's sure to give them QUITE a lecture/speech on jumping into danger unprepared and making assumptions!

I also fear a good many of the Hogwarts faculty will not be escaping her attention!

Click to shrink...

Taylor has no room to talk about jumping into danger unprepared, like at all.

 

[Monshroud]

Taylor has no room to talk about jumping into danger unprepared, like at all.

Click to shrink...

She'd be speaking to them from experience.

Serum applied directly to the brain. Causes significant increase to brain plasticity. This makes the user very good at learning new things, thinking in new or abstract ways, compartmentalizing thoughts and thinking on one's feet but also does considerable damage to long term memory retention and was fatal if overused due to brain damage.

Click to shrink...

And in THIS fic...

“That’s restricted,” the woman said. “Ministry clamped down on it because it destroyed the brain. The woman who made the stuff got bored and didn’t perfect it after that. Not to mention she didn’t give out the recipe.”

Click to shrink...

I'm guessing even with a Wizarding metabolism, it wasn't enough to hold off or cancel out the negative side effects!

Course, with Magic, I'm sure Fray actually has managed to perfect the recipe so it doesn't has many deleterious effects like it used to!

...I wonder if Dumbledore, Snape, and other notable witches and wizards each have a secret stash of alchemically improved Wyvern that they get from Genevieve after The Ministry officially didn't go through with approving of "her" invention.

 

[Pielikeman]

Goddammit I don’t want to wait for more. Anybody know anything similar to this? I’ve already read all of Familiar.

I assume that Taylor doesn’t have bugs or multitasking here, but I’m still excited to see her reaction when thrown into petty middle-school drama.

 

[Xicree]

I really hope this one is one that sticks with you... a fic starring all of Bows protagonists sounds like something Amazing!

I'm kinda hoping that Blake is here as a boogeyman rather than a student... or as a student as 'twins' with Rose :3

 

[Monshroud]

I'm kinda hoping that Blake is here as a boogeyman rather than a student...

Click to shrink...

"Riddikulus!"

"Oh COME ON! Did you have to make me look like I'm wearing your grandmother's clothes?!"

 

[Xicree]

"Riddikulus!"

"Oh COME ON! Did you have to make me look like I'm wearing your grandmother's clothes?!"

Click to shrink...

... In before Taylor accidentally has the Boggart either become a Trigger Vision... or the Smurf.


... or Sy gets a vision of Jessie covered in the Red Plague asking why he abandoned her...

 

[ManMagnificent]

Black Sheep
Chapter Two
​

I might have looked like an idiot, but I didn’t care.

I sat on a chair outside of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, watching as Diagon Alley woke up. Fray sat on the other side of me, doing that strange thing of hers of just showing me how she was feeling. She was happy, there was that glint in her eyes, in how she sat and how she held herself; the slight smile that would twig at the corner of her lips; and how her eyes would take particular interest every time I filled a spoonful of ice-cream and gobbled it down.

Peppermint and grass. If you were here, Helen, maybe you’d love this.

But she was also guarded. She was likely ambidextrous but favoured her right hand. Since we’d left her apartment this morning, since we’d sat, she hadn’t pulled her hand out of her pocket, it was likely close to her wand.

She was periphery though. As much as I was reading, there was so much more that I was missing, it would be a challenge, but I didn’t want that right now. What I wanted now, was to just enjoy watching:

A woman, wearing dull grey robes. She had a bent back, leaning too hard on one leg and was continually looking over her shoulder. There wasn’t a manic to her, but there was an edge, the feel of a survivor. Her hand wasn’t hovering at her side, though, where her wand should be, which meant…

“She’s a…squid?” I said, looking at Fray and gesturing at the woman with my head.

“Squib,” Fray corrected and she couldn’t hold back her smile. “Yes, I think she might be.”

“There’s something there,” I said. “Something I’m missing. She’s on her guard but isn’t paranoid.”

“There was a war not ten years ago, if I have my dates right,” she said. “A man…” She stopped, looking around. It was so early in the morning that most shops hadn’t opened yet. The street was mostly empty and ordinary, which was disappointing until a person appeared from thin air, teleporting into the street and reminded me where I was. Fray and I were the only people at Fortescue’s.

“Voldemort,” she said, the word whispered. I frowned but didn’t comment. She’d been pretty good about telling me everything I wanted to know. “Led a war against those he called wizards and witches of lower stock. Squibs, Muggle-borns and people who married them were targeted.”

I looked at the woman again, taking her in, filling in the missing pieces. She was scared that she would be attacked, which gave credence to Fray saying that the war was in recent history, or maybe she’d been attacked directly? She was favouring one leg, which could mean being tortured or hurt, something magic didn't heal.

“The war ended,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean things changed…?”

Fray nodded. “It’s…tenuous. Voldemort, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as he’s referred to, was killed by a boy your age. Harry Potter. How this happened, people don’t really know. But he’s been gone and the war just sort of ended.”

“What about his supporters?” I asked. “One man doesn’t a war make. Makes more sense if he was riding off something that was always there.”

“What are you thinking, Sylvester?” she said, her guard further up. The smile was gone and she was sitting straighter. Even so, she still didn’t guard her emotions. She felt sorry me, a sympathy I didn't like, but there was also the fear, the determination of one willing to do something they'd hate themselves for.

I smiled, or smiled further. I was happier and it was hard to school my features. I still didn’t have the Lambs, still wasn’t whole, but a chunk of my self had been filled in.

“I don’t know yet,” I said.

Fray took a deep breath and let it out, lips pursing in thought. “Sylvester—”

I shook my head. “You don’t have to worry,” I said. “Things are different. I won’t be using the same approach.”

“But I have to worry,” she said. “We’re plotters, you and I, and we don’t like each other.”

She’s a manipulator. Give her time and she can convince me to do anything. I have to stop her rhythm, make things harder by making her refine her approach, casting away certain parts while forming others. Keep her on the backfoot.

“Things aren’t as bad as before,” I interrupted. She stopped, giving me a look, telling me she knew what I was doing. I grinned, feeling excited because this was what I’d been missing. I still had my prey instinct, giving me an overview of all the little things I noticed, but I could break it down, refine it.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” she said.

“I am,” I returned. “Things aren’t as bad as before. You aren’t as bad as before. There’s no Hayle, no conspiracy that makes the people I love playthings. I have no reason to dislike you.”

“I…I made a lot of mistakes, in the past,” she said. “And it’s only with perspective that I realise that.”

“Bygones,” I said, stretching out a hand for her to shake. She looked at it for a long moment before she shook it. Her hands weren’t cold, which meant circulation was better, which meant she didn’t have her needles in her fingers.

“I do,” she said. She detached her hand from mine and the needles pushed out. “I’m using magic to imitate good circulation.”

My grin got larger. “How’d you see it?”

“You’re wearing your emotions for everyone to see,” she said. “It’s…endearing, especially after seeing you depressed and purposeless.”

“Gotta work on that,” I said, taking another spoonful of my peppermint and grass ice-cream, taking in every facet of the flavour. It shouldn’t have worked, because what sense was there in grass-flavoured anything? But there was a depth to the taste of grass which brought a new dimension to everything.

I looked at Fray and she’d let down her guard again.

“Adopt me,” I said. A brow rose. “Are there wizard orphans?”

“Yes, but the wizard population is small and insular. It’s not out of the question to have a wide web of familial ties. Even with the war, the number of orphans is low. The number of orphans who haven’t been adopted or have guardians, only you.”

I nodded. “No orphanages,” I said. “I think Professor McGonagall would have offered to have me changed into a wizard orphanage if she could, that she didn’t was telling. I don’t mind being at the orphanage, but I want to be in the thick of this, at least until I break the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Don’t even joke, Sylvester,” she said.

I let out a chuckle. “Are you working on that yet?” I asked.

“I’m working on a lot of things,” she said. “Most of which I won’t tell you in case we ever work against each other.”

“And here I thought we’d let bygones be bygones.”

“I’m still very much afraid of you, Sylvester,” she said.

“You gotta get over that,” I said.

“No. I think I shouldn’t.”

I shrugged. “About adopting me?”

“You’d chafe,” she said. “Me as a parent.”

“But you wouldn’t be a parent,” I said. “I’m not sure if I said this before, but I always saw you as a sister. Things just got muddied along the way.”

“You did,” she said. “It made me happier, having heard that.”

“Well, here, now, you won’t be a parent but an older sister. A guiding hand, but still letting me do what I want. More than anything, you’ll be able to stop me if I’m about to do something particularly disastrous.”

“Would you listen to me?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I might.”

“Keeping you close,” she said. “It’s better, makes you an element I can, if not control, then keep a watch over, but it also means less distance to cover before you stab me in the back.”

“That’s the risk,” I said.

She sighed. “I did miss you,” she said, “even in the abstract.”

“Is that a yes?” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Woo!” People looked in my direction, but on noting I was a child, went back to whatever they were doing. Fray was smiling.

“Usually, this would take months,” she said. “But I have people. I’ll get the process started. It shouldn’t take more than a week.”

“Awesome,” I said. I put on an accent. “Can I go exploring, Mum? I want to see more of this world.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “You’re about the same age and it wouldn’t be too out of the question to have people kill you thinking you’re the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“That and to keep an eye on me,” I said.

“Yes.”

***​

The dimensions of the Wizarding World were strange, but they began to make sense under the lens of a world where travel could take mere seconds.

Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley were the central business districts that existed in all of magical Great Britain, or the British Isles in this world—the history here was different, with the Crown having lost power and having to make concession which meant the world map was different—and the Crown States were now the United States. It was distracting to think about, which I didn’t because it wasn’t important.

What was important was making sense of it all, getting a picture in my mind that would give me the abstract of how it all fit together.

Diagon and Knockturn Alley were the commercial and financial district. Gringotts was the crux of this, with the shops having formed around it in large part. There were people who lived here in small apartments above their shops, but it wasn’t the norm for people to live in Diagon Alley. There was the Ministry of Magic, in Whitehall. It was the government district and all of it was in one building.

“It would be too conspicuous to have us go there, at least for now, but you’ll be able to see the place when you’re called in for the enquiry.”

“Okay,” I said, only barely paying attention.

People as a whole lived either alone in the middle of nowhere, because they could, not having to worry about travel, or within little villages amongst Muggles. It made this place seem disjointed, unconnected, but when you thought about it as travel being a non-effort, then it all made sense.

“This world seems harsh on people that can’t travel on a whim,” I said. “At least if the picture in my head makes sense.”

“Floo powder,” she said. “With the stuff and any fireplace, you can travel to any other home that’s registered.”

“That’s how you travelled into that woman’s shop,” I said.

She nodded. “In large part, though, most things make it hard to be a Squib or anyone non-magical coming into this world,” she said. “Something I’m taking great pains to ease.”

“So that’s what you’re working on,” I said.

She shrugged. “I’m working on a lot of things,” she said. “But yes, this is one of them.”

“Trying to make the world better?”

“Trying to keep myself occupied,” she said. “I’ve been terribly bored most of the time. There are smart people here, exemplary, but I had a head start, and in most of my plots I’m catching them unaware.”

“You want a challenge.” I said.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” she said. “But please Sylvester, don’t mould yourself around that task.”

“I won’t,” I said. “I’m sort of lost what I’ll be trying to do, even if I have the first step already in mind. How good are you at finding people? There’s something I want to check out.”

“How well known are they?” she asked.

“Not,” I said. “They’re a new Hogwarts student. Taylor Hebert.”

“A few hours,” she said. “Why?”

“I think she might make a good Lamb,” I said with a smile. There was a pang but I pushed it away, not entirely forgetting, but giving it less weight. She had the right markers, even to my non-Wyvern brain. “I want to see her under the new lens.”

“Be careful,” she said. “Manipulate someone enough, and the moment they spot it, they’ll hate you.”

“I’ll make a point of it,” I said. “Teach me a spell?”

She sighed, pulling out a watch from her dress, glancing at it then nodding. “I really should be going about my day,” she said. “But I’ll give you another hour of my time.” She took my shoulder, turned and then I was sucked into a straw, not able to move, not able to breathe, before I was pushed free, stumbling forward in front into Fray’s apartment.

She didn’t stumble, only striding forward.

“I think,” she said, “with your nature, you’ll enjoy the Tripping Jinx.”

“Without a doubt,” I said with a large grin.

***​

Wyvern made learning easy, it made retention without practice hard, but that didn’t matter now. It didn’t take me an hour to learn the spell. The hand motions were intricate and I had to pay attention to how I spoke, but when I had it down, I had it down.

It was an afternoon with reasonably good weather. I sat in a park overlooked by Taylor Hebert’s apartment building. I wanted more than anything to just go to her place—I didn’t know how, yet, but Fray had gotten her address—but that would be bad in the long run. I still didn’t have too good a read on her, but she’d been on alert, guarded, and if I just appeared, she might be suspicious.

Of course the suspicions of an eleven-year-old wouldn’t mean much, but I couldn’t start things off with her against me.

My read might be wrong, but until I was sure of it being wrong, she felt like the perfect material for being a Lamb.

I had to be delicate. I still didn’t know what I was working with.

Good weather and with it being the last days of summer, kids were out in full force and tired parents with them. I sat on my own under tree cover, set so the majority of the attention was away from me. I kept an eye on movement, tracking attention, waiting for the perfect moment until—

“Lapsus,” I said with a wave of the wand. A burst of blue white light shot out, near silent except for a low hiss and I missed, the spell hitting a trash can just beside a man who’d been jogging in the middle of the afternoon. He stopped because there’d been a clang, but continued to run, looking back at the can in confusion before his attention got back to his jogging.

I frowned, but it didn’t matter. I’d get better.

I watched the crowd, watched the children, drinking all of it in.

Kids young to eleven and they were playing. At that age, you were supposed to be well into adulthood, but that wasn’t the case here, there were even thirteen-year olds who were more childlike than ten-year olds I knew. It was strange, but I had to remind myself that these were different circumstances.

The moment felt right and I let out the spell again, hitting a teenager who’d been chasing a dog that’d gone off its leash. I hit and the girl tripped, falling face first and only barely catching herself with her arms; the fall meant her three other dogs escaped and ran off.

“Yes,” I said, feeling triumphant. Between the dogs barking, that the girl had screamed and that there were kids here, it was an event. The kids either broke into laughter or chased the dogs that’d escaped. People rushed to help the girl, most of them young guys, which meant the majority of the attention was away from me.

Another blue-white spell left and hit a man at the fringes of the group moving to help the girl. He fell face first, which split the attention between the two. I used that and fired off another spell, and there was another slip which split the attention even more, but more and more people were coming in.

I watched the crowd, seeing it grow and holding back. No one was hurt and the dogs had been caught, but people were talking about it, paying attention to the particular patch of land and seeing if there were any adversely slippery parts of it. People who hadn’t seen the event were stopping, asking and making the crowd grow further.

Ten minutes and I saw her, Taylor Hebert and her mother, just having come in because of the commotion.

I grinned, starting towards them.

She spotted me and was immediately on her guard. She said something to her mom and her mom turned away from the crowd, looking at me. Mrs Hebert smiled, none of her daughter’s guard, beckoning me forward.

“Sylvester, right?” said Mrs Hebert.

“Yeah,” I said. “You live around here?”

I glanced at Taylor and it was all wrong. She didn’t express herself with her face all that much, but her body was different: She stood straight, shoulder’s squared and looked primed, a coiled spring filled with potential energy, ready for motion. She didn’t really stop, instead her eyes were constantly flickering in every direction, trying to take everything in but it didn’t give off the feel of a person who was scared like the Squib woman, not looking over her shoulder.

But when she focused, she focused.

Right now, it seemed like all of her attention was on me.

“What happened here?” said Mrs Hebert. She looked at me.

“Missed how it started,” I said. “But someone tripped I think.”

“I’ll find out,” said Mrs Hebert. “You two stay here?”

Taylor nodded, smiled as she looked at her mom, but the moment she was gone, the smile disappeared.

I smiled.

“Something’s different about you,” she said. “Are you drunk?”

“I’m eleven,” I said. She didn’t say anything, which was a piece to the person she was. She knew it was a non-answer but she wasn’t playing the game. “No, I’m not drunk. I’m going to be adopted.”

“How?” she said, stopped as her expression worked: Worried about foot-in-mouth. “I mean, that doesn’t make sense? How did that happen from yesterday to today?”

“Just lucky I guess,” I said with a shrug. It was a cheap tactic, putting forward a mystery and then making her hungry to solve it. I was making her ask questions, which gave me the better footing, deciding what I would and wouldn’t tell her.

“I didn’t tell you where I lived,” she said. “How’d you find me?”

“How did I find you?” I said. “I didn’t think you were paranoid. I was just in the area.”

“I don’t trust that. I don’t trust you. What are you doing here?”

“I thought we were going to be friends, before going to Hogwarts,” I said.

“Yeah, but from that to this. I don’t know if there’s magic, but the only other explanation is that you followed us back home, which can’t be true. What’s going on here?”

I chuckled. “You’re smart,” I said. I caught a flicker of irritation.

She sighed. “You’re a stalker,” she said. “A young one, but it’s still creepy. So,” she shook her head, “let’s not do this. Let’s keep our distance, okay?”

Okay. How do I change this?

There was still the mystery approach, playing it up, but that would only annoy her. I couldn’t help the grin because this was what I loved. She wasn’t the person I’d thought she was but she was Lamb material. That made me just want her more.

“You’re smiling now,” she said, “which makes me worried. Sylvester, I’ll tell you this once and only once. If you mess with me or my family, I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

A giggle slipped and I pushed it down. This wasn’t helping but I couldn’t help but see Mary and Helen in her. She’d put her all into the threat and I believed her.

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry. I’ll see you at Hogwarts.”

“Not looking forward to it,” she said.

“Bye, Taylor,” I said as she was going to her mom.

She just left, giving me her back and not even glancing back.

Yeah, she’s going to be one of my Lambs.

***​

“I’ve got my first Lamb,” I said to Fray. “She doesn’t like me yet.”

“Should I be worried?” she said.

I shook my head. “I did some stuff, tripped a few people, but it—”

“That’s called Muggle baiting and it’s illegal,” she said. “Don’t do it again.”

I smirked. “I won’t.”

“No. Sylvester—”

“I won’t need to again,” I said. “Cross my heart,” and I crossed my heart.

She took a breath and let it out. “I think I’m starting to have a sliver of what Hayle felt through his tenure,” she said.

“This isn’t even the start, mummy,” I said.

She sighed. “Don’t,” she said. “Let’s get you presentable. We’re due for the Ministry in a few hours.”

The Ministry could have been fun, but I couldn’t let it. It would be fun in the short-term, but in the long it would mean I wouldn’t get my Lambs. I couldn’t have that. So I smiled when it seemed right, said what they expected and had a hit of Wyvern before drinking a truth serum so I wouldn’t say the wrong thing. All of it looked above board, but there may be a lot of shady stuff going on behind the scenes.

It took most of the day and I was left drained because I hadn’t done much. All I could do was watch as Fray made contact with the people she was working with.

“How long?” I asked when no one was listening.

“About twenty years,” she said.

“That’s a lot of time,” I said.

“Most of it I was at the bottom, starting things up while working towards the future,” she said. “I was adrift while at Hogwarts, trying to find an anchor. I didn’t until the war broke out.”

“Do you secretly run this place, yet?”

She shook her head. “But it’s only a matter of time.”

“This is going to be fun,” I said.

She gave me a look, because she was worried and I didn’t blame her.

She knew me too well.

***​

Dean wasn’t Lamb material. Maybe it could be that he would be better when he was older, but there wasn’t that kernel in him that I could mould into something else. Hermione, she reminded me of Lillian. She was smart, needing a steady pressure to give her purpose, but that might break her, making her terrible when she seemed good.

It wasn’t worth it.

I’d be going to Hogwarts soon, where there’d be other kids, where any of them might have potential to be a Lamb.

Patience, Sylvester.

 

[MooGoesCow21]

Blake i imagine was probably born into a Pureblood family who supported voldemort because he has a luck stat of -100 and thats how his life goes

 

[uiu]

I remember when I finished Twig I searched all over for some fanfiction since I was still enamored with the story. I wasn't able to find much, and I concluded that writing Twig fanfic is probably pretty difficult, seeing as it's almost entirely character driven.

With that said I think your Sylvester is pretty spot on, and I'm happily looking forward to future chapters.

 

[Xicree]

Blake i imagine was probably born into a Pureblood family who supported voldemort because he has a luck stat of -100 and thats how his life goes

Click to shrink...

That's so perfectly Blake it's pretty sad...


And with that said... Sylvester is like Jack Slash and Tattletale all rolled up into one terrible heroic loyal assassin child... and he wants Taylor as part of his super-weapon classed infernal machine of a group.

This is already quite fun!