Scum 3

Scum
Chapter 3

-VB-

It’s been a whole year since I woke up on this Earth.

“Why am I getting a fucking Hogwarts letter?” I muttered to myself while staring at said letter.

I wasn’t even on British soil.

I was on Newfoundland.

After I ran away from that hospital in Maryland, I ran all the way up the East Coast until I found myself in a place no one would look me for where there was a lot of space and the weather didn’t suck balls.

I mean, Newfoundland wasn’t great either, but it was also out of the reach of the American wizards and witches (or magicals, as they preferred). In this middle of nowhere island, I took up resident near the village of St. Michaels but deep in the woods to the village’s west and basically did whatever I pleased.

So why was I getting this letter?

I didn’t understand. I wasn’t a British citizen. I was an American citizen and orphan. Hogwarts accepted international students, but the student’s guardians needed to apply-.

I froze.

The student’s guardians.

The Parkinson Family, the Noble House I was related to through my squib mother.

I felt anger start to rise.

… No.

I wasn’t going.

I was going to stay here in Newfoundland where I built myself a home, maybe marry that cute ginger girl I met while shopping for groceries, and research how to open portals.

I wasn’t going to get involved with Hogwarts-.

-VB-

“You sons of bitches,” I growled quietly to myself as I glared at the three men in pristine cloaks no more than a dozen meters (because Canada) from where I stood.

Two of them a more modern attire, but the third one wore a distinctly Victorian cloak and Roaring Twenties bowler hat, which was a British wizarding combination trend.

A month after I received my Hogwarts letter, I found these three in front of my house.

And I was ready to fight them all off.

“I … am impressed,” the lead man, one of the Americans, spoke up as she looked around. Her ginger hair shifted as she turned her head this way and that way before she focused back onto me. “This is a very powerful ward. Had we come in here with a truly hostile intent, then we would have died the moment we tried to take an action.”

I narrowed my eyes.

I did indeed make a ward like that. Raildex Magic was flexible enough to convert the phrase and idea “breaking salt and bread” to mean “entering territory without active hostile action and with an intent, or at least a part of intent, to negotiate and converse.” I saved that “conversion” into a solid projection, made using Old Magic, and then used it as the center piece of a ritual I performed using a combination of fel magic and Wand Magic.

The result was this ward that was extremely hostile to invaders, and would be attracted to such an action. The ward itself would break, and its intent-fused magic would go to “help” the invaders.

By injecting them with fel magic.

Fel magic, being naturally chaotic and corrosive, would burn them up from the inside out. My year-long life here in Newfoundland gave me a lot of time to experiment, and I saw how weak magic was to it. It was like an infection, disrupting pre-existing order and feeding off the destabilization.

Inside a living being… well, death came rather quickly, if painfully.

"I'm not going to whatever school you shits want to send me," I said with a sneer.

"Please mind your manners," the older looking of the two locals frowned. "We haven't done or say anything to you."

I wanted to tell him to fuck off… but I knew that he was also right. I was also not someone who got off on being rude to everyone constantly. I might be pissed at them, but they were only doing their job.

"Fine," I huffed. "What do you want?"

Finally, the British wizard spoke up. "I'm Theodore Parkinson, your uncle," he claimed. "And I came all this way to take you home."

I narrowed my eyes. I didn't know anything about my parents' relatives, and I didn't have any way to check.

I've been busy with the current Wards, building the house, and ogling the local Canadian girls. Sure, they were flatter on average compared to Californian and Texan girls, but I liked pretty girls more than big girls so -.

Damn, I'm getting off on a tangent in my head while three potential enemies are in front of me.

"This is my home," I replied firmly. "I'm not leaving."

"Why don't you want to leave?" The older guy asked.

"Who wants to leave home? I made this place so I'm-."

"Unfortunately for you, what you did was illegal."

I frowned. "What?"

"First off, you don't own this land. This land belongs to the Canadian government, and you are not a citizen of Canada."

I blinked. Were they trying to talk law to an eleven year old? I mean, sure, they thought I was an eleven year old kid, so why were they even bothering to?

"So?" I asked.

"You can't stay here," the other guy gave his partner a deadpan. Ah, the guy who spoke law was being an idiot. He turned to look at me again. "Why are you against going to Hogwarts?"

“Because I don’t want to.”

I was being completely childish and in line with my physical, but gave not a fuck about it.

“... What if,” the American wizard spoke up. “We gave you a land grant for your home and the surrounding area? That way, no one can deny that this land isn’t yours? Of course, in exchange, you have to graduate Hogwarts, so if you don’t graduate Hogwarts, we take the land ownership back.”

That… wasn’t a bad deal.

“Why do you want me in Hogwarts?” I asked with a frown. “Isn’t that in Britain? Why am I not going to school here?”

That’s when Parkinson spoke up. “Because I am your magical guardian.”

Of fucking course.

I frowned. “Why should I let you be my guardian? You’re not my mom or dad.”

“Because-”

“Please remember that I can kill you,” I smiled.

He shut up and frowned.

“What would get you to come home, child?” he asked instead.

“... A promise. A promise on magic that you will not allow any harm to come to me if you can help it.” There. Parkinson wouldn’t do something like that when his family will obviously join Voldemort when he rises aga-.

He blinked. “That’s it?”

Wait, what?

He pulled out his wand.

“I solemnly swear upon my magic that I will not allow harm to come to my nephew, Alan Hatcheter, if I can help in any way.”

A sprite of light sprung up from the tip of his wand.

Then, for good measure, he flicked his wand again to show that he still had his magic, which meant that he had no hostile intent towards me.

What? Wait, wasn’t Pansy Parkinson one of the Slytherin who joined up with Voldemort?

… Wait, was it possible that I could be wrong about that?

As the entire perspective and mindset about the world that I had built-up crumbled around me, Theodore Parkinson huffed. “Seriously, did you think that I was here to hurt you?”

“... Well, yes,” I replied abashedly. “Heard about Death Eaters being purebloods and stuff…”

This time, Theodore grimaced. “No, we … we weren’t part of that mess.”

Well, I … guessed I was going to Hogwarts. I did promise.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I’ll go to Britain.” Then I looked up and glared at the American aurors (did they call themselves aurors or something else? I haven’t looked at the new movies before I came here). “No one’s going to touch my house, alright? I’ll make it explode if they do.”

“Jesus Christ, you scary little gremlin,” the dumber of the two - the one who tried to use legality to convince(?) a kid - muttered out loud. “Glad to be rid of you.”

I gave him the double birdie.