Chapter 1.2- Doom

He did not care much either. The point was the wand worked. And it worked well. That would have ben something that could have tipped Dumbledore or any other person that would have been susicious about the changes to his person off so neatly avoiding it without having to do anything about it was one hell of an advantage. It also meant that there was the possibility of him flying on priori incantatem when faced with Tom Riddle but the very thought of relying on such fickle chance to best his enemy brought him no small amount of rage. Doom would not rely on such. Doom would prove himself the better of the shade of a man, and he would do so with ease. He would break Tom Riddle and his deatheaters over his knee at once and force them all to submit. None would deny Doom.

Waving his wand at himself, he felt his body instantly freshen up and clean itself. The robes that stood by his bed receved the same treatment next and with another wave, he animated them to wrap themseves around him. Doom was enjoying the pleasure of no longer having to dress himself with his own hands anymore. This would be a useful universe, he decided, as he walked out of the empty dorm room and into the more crowded common room. Checking his mind, he found that it was a Sunday so most of the students would be hanging around the commons for a while. The watch that had once belonged to Harry Potter told him that the time for breakfast had long passed, so he had to secure alternate feeding for himself when he felt the urge.

As he walked across the common room, he noticed the way eyes followed his every move, but unlike the previous occupant of this body, he did not shy away from the stares. He was Doom, after all. It was normal for lesser beings to stare. It was the one indulgence he would grant them. But it seemed that the refusal to shrink before their gazes had ticked a few of them off.

“Oi. Potter” Angelina Johnson, he recognised from Potter’s memories. He turned to the older Gryffindor with a raised eyebrow. She clearly had not thought her approach through, as she visibly seemed to stumble over what to say next. He took a step closer to her and stared her down clearly. Doom would not tolerate having his time wasted.

“How did your name come out yesterday? Did you cheat?” She asked. He looked at her, and then looked around the silent common room. A party had been held in Potter’s honour yesterday, but the boy who lived had not been attentive enough to notice those who had been absent. The sixth and seventh year students with few exceptions had not shown themselves at the party at all.

Now, those sixth and seventh years were the ones who made up the bulk of those waiting in the room. This was an ambush, Doom realised with some amount of amusement. Assuming he only had Potter’s memories to rely upon, he might have been worried, but even a 17 year old Riddle would be more than enough to deal with this lot and secure a retreat in good order.

“Cheat? I have no idea what you’re talking about" He said, and turned around, declaring the conversation over with his movement.

“No we’re not done with you, Potter. Did you put your name in the goblet of fire?” She asked. A stubborn one, she was.

Turning to her again, Doom ran his eyes across her form. A fit body. Very fit. She was an athlete with some dedication, so that was no surprise, and her dark skin did catch his interest. The only issue was that he did not find her facial features to be very attractive. Not his taste, at all.

“Does it matter if I did or I did not? You did put your name there. And you weren’t chosen. I was. What does it matter how it happened?” He asked her this time. He was not as naive as Harry Potter. No one would ever believe he didn’t enter himself into the contest, so why not use that to his own advantage? Having a reputation for having been able to defeat Dumbledore’s own spellwork would be useful, undoubtedly.

“It matters because Gryffindor is the most honest of the four houses. We pride ourselves on bravery and courage, not cheating and trickery. Your actions do not reflect kindly on us, and so we have no other choice.” She began to say while he stared at her with building amusement.

“Hold on, Angelina. That wasn’t what we agreed” Mark Hamill, the Seventh year prefect spoke and stepped forward.

“We agreed that we would do this if he didn’t apologise” She hissed at him.

“Yes, and you haven’t given him much of an opportunity to do so” He replied, letting her anger wash against him like waves on the seashore.

“Fine then. Potter, apologise for your actions” She conceded to him, before turning to him.

“Apologise? To who?” Doom said, drawing himself up to his full height.

“All of Gryffindor”

“I owe you nothing” He said with a look of disdain.

“And so you leave us no other choice” This time, even Hamill did not get in Johnson’s way.

“We, the Prefects of Gryffindor House, with the power vested in us do hereby declare Harry James Potter as banished and excommunicated. Let all who see him know him for what he is: Houseless” She said, and Doom felt the magic of the castle move in a way he’d never felt it move before. His robes suddenly lost the Gryffindor colouring and crest that they used to sport, becoming black and unadorned. Just as they’d been when he bought them.

And in a manner of seconds, his trunk was laid out before him, packed and ready to go.

Johnson looked smug. The rest of the room looked similarly pleased. The fifth year prefects did not meet his gaze when he swept it passed them but the others did so.

Hamill shook his head at him when his gaze reached him. He probably thought Doom was looking for some help or pity. How foolish. Doom was merely committing all their faces to memory. Doom did not forgive. Doom would never forget.