"I am Lily," the redhead said with a smile.
"Victor," I introduced myself, "Domashev," I added, using the fake surname.
"I will leave you children to it then," said Luke Evans carrying a bag containing some books that we had grabbed on a detour on the way back.
"Are you Russian?" sniffed Petunia, clearly showing her haughtiness and xenophobia.
"Lat- Sokovian," I said, correcting myself at the last moment. "The kind that is oppressed by the Russians."
I was Victor Von Doom. I had accepted that fact. And to be Doom was to be of Latveria and nowhere else, even if Latveria itself did not exist because of politics.
I had to add that to the list of things I needed to address, mostly because I would like to have the production capabilities of a micro-nation in Western Europe in the future. I would have to wait for the Nineties and for the USSR to dissolve and for the chaos to provide the opportunity to take over. The future of Earth was rather iffy at the best of times and I would rather not get dusted because some Genocidal Grimace from Space could not understand basic Mathematics.
"Would you like to see the sights?" asked Lily, "there is not much around, but we can see the sight."
---
"What is with the muggle?" asked the voice of a boy.
"This is Victor. Sev, be nice. Victor is a friend of the family," said Lily as I got a good look at a child Severus Snape.
It was different from what I expected, the person before me. He was less reserved. A flash of jealousy and the subtle hint of Magical Energy had me catch a branch that was falling to my head.
I looked at the branch with interest, before having it hover over my head. "Careful with your control, Mister Snape; we would not want such similar Accidents."
I reached within the branch, weaving my... Chakra, for lack of a better term for the mix of Yin and Yang Energies, into the wood itself, feeling the natural energy within it before pulling the mixed energy as described by Cagliostro in his books.
The branch turned to dirt as it vanished.
"You are a Wizard as well?" asked Lily, clearly not noticing the subtle interaction or threat.
"I am indeed a Sorcerer," I stated with a nod.
"How did you do it?" she asked, excited.
"Can you teach it to us?" asked Severus Snape at the same time, his jealousy replaced by awe at my casual use of magic. It also made me disregard my initial assumptions and realize that both of these people that I had only read up about were still just kids.
That is when I realized that I had possibly met two people who were as obsessed with Magic as I was.
---
I took a sip from the tea.
It was decent, I supposed. I preferred coffee, to be precise.
"You are a Wizard, Mister Domashev," said Minerva McGonnagal. "As Miss Evans is a witch."
The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts was clad in a tartan robe with a typical Witch's hat. She had gone through the whole dance and spiel, turning a tea cup into a rat and all that.
"I am aware," I stated, taking another sip, "Please point your wand away from me for the duration of this conversation."
Lily had a smug look on her face as well.
I did not know what to do with Lily Evans. She was certainly different from what I would expect, especially since the version I knew of her was effectively a martyred twenty-one-year-old instead of an eleven-year-old child.
She reminded me of Valeria in a way. Inquisitive, smart enough to hold a conversation with me, capable of understanding the brilliance that was Doom.
I sighed. I really needed to see the source of this whole ego thing. It was getting annoying.
Right after, I worked out how to ensure this girl did not get herself martyred.
"Given your status, we would need to contact your guardian," stated McGonnagal, clearly shocked at the way I spoke to her like an equal and not show any hint that I was intimidated.
"That would be me," said Harry Evans, from the couch he was sitting on, speaking for the first time. "As the lad is my guest."
I looked at the man, who gave me a look that would include a lot of questions. He had sat in the back to watch for obvious reasons, old instincts dying hard, as I noted how his one hand was ready to pull the gun hidden under his jacket.
I was pretty certain the old man was MI6 or something.
"Then there is the issue of your Magical Guardian," said McGonagall, "As you are both Muggleborn, as per the Hogwarts Charter, as a Student of Hogwarts, the Headmaster will be your Magical Guardian."
"And if an alternative is arranged?" I asked, considering how likely it would be to get the Ancient One to do the job before I dismissed the idea. It would likely be someone else in the Sanctums who could handle it.
"That is simply not feasible," said McGonnagal, "Muggleborns are represented by the Headmaster until they reach their majority."
"And you are still under the misconception that my parents were both non-magical," I said, refusing to use that ridiculous name for people within the normal distribution. "My mother was a witch, and I am Romani and Head of the Magical Zefiro Clan," I said with a grin, ignoring the 'by technicality part.'
Granted, I was the 'Head of the Magical Zefiro Clan' because no one in the clan really gave two shits about that particular title, and my claim was mostly inherited from my mother and grounded on the fact that Werner was one of the leaders for the main reason that he had been the healer. The fact that no one would deny me that claim told of the goodwill that I was burning from my people, but I would eventually get them to become the ruling class in our own micronation, so it was only fair.
McGonagall's eyes widened in realization.
We had made a quick detour on the day of my arrival to Diagon Alley after Harry Evans decided to ask the type of questions only a veteran of World War Two would ask... mostly involving the politics of the Magical World.
Being a foreigner, I could not answer and we had made to drop by Charring Cross for a few hours to find the right book.
Wizarding World, as it turned out, was its own mess.
No, there were no Ancient Houses or some bullshit like that. The entire Sacred Twenty-Eight bullshit was some propaganda penned by Riddle's dormmate some time ago, given the last name of Nott and the age of the guy, and was considered a joke more than anything.
Wizengamot itself consisted of what were effectively Government Department Heads and notable ancient Witches and Wizards who had contributed to their society in some way. They effectively decided on the laws and regulations, but the general focus of the Ministry was on enforcing a strict policy to keep the Statute of Secrecy to prevent non-Magicals from finding out about Magic.
I ignored the weirdness of it all in its own isolated context, as my mind pointed out that there were missing bits about the whole thing.
That being said, International Law was an entirely different mess of its own.
The parts that were relevant were some rather unique cases like the Roma Clans. Something something, scary magical potential, bad for everyone involved, just an entirely separate headache for anyone involved that had tried to interfere, the curses that would make everyone regret messing with them and all that. I was also pretty sure the Forests of Albania were considered wildlands in terms of the Magical World for this specific reason, but I had no proof.
Eventually, ICW had agreed to give them pretty much their own autonomy, something that covered them outside their borders and in other countries that agreed to it, including the British Ministry of Magic and MACUSA.
Which translated to the fact that DOOM had diplomatic immunity in the Magical World.
I had to keep myself from having a whole evil laugh in the middle of the bookshop when I realized that fact.
There were certain limits, of course. There would definitely be consequences if I killed a member of the British Ministry of Magic. Then I only got the right to demand a Trial by Combat... against the Champion of the Ministry. Given that the champion held the title of Chief Warlock... who would be one Albus Dumbledore, that was likely not the best idea.
Right, I was not ready to pick a fight with Dumbledore at this junction. I lacked a proper education to actually win such a fight cleanly, and I really did not want to track down a picture of Arianna Dumbledore and weave an illusion that would leverage the old Wizard's guilt for his sister's death.
Doom does not fight fair, unless he can win, then he fights fair.
Of course, it also did not account for the fact that enforcing those obscure laws required me to have the power to have them apply, which no eleven-year-old would manage unless they were Doom. Nothing prevented the British from snapping my wand and throwing me to Azkaban, even if they lacked a legal grounding.
"Right," said McGonnagal, recovering from the shock. "This is something that the Headmaster can handle himself," she said, muttering to herself about "not being dragged into that mess."
All in all, I had a plan and the means.
While I did not wish to waste my time in Hogwarts, I did plan to speed-run the whole experience and create a copy of their library at the least, but the Wizarding World did not scale up to proper Sorcery, even if the grounding I could get was likely going to come in handy.
---
Once McGonagall left after leaving a note for us to meet with her at a later date somewhere close to the Leaky Cauldron to handle the shopping, she left, and Harry motioned me to have a private chat.
"How bad is it?" he asked, with a tone of steel.
"I would like you to clarify," I stated in turn.
"There are children coming from parents who do not have magic, then there are those that do. I am not a fool lad, I know the makings of a fascist nation when I see one," said Lily's grandfather. "So, I will ask, how bad is it? If you do not answer, I will call some of my old friends from the War and ask them to take a closer look instead."
"For a society where power can be quantified and used to determine one's standing in life?" I asked, "The Government is not made of Magic-Nazi's," I said.
"And those that are?" asked Harry Evans.
"Led by the equivalent of Magic-Hitler," I said, "Who would have the power equivalent of Captain America."
"Bah, Steve could probably take him," said Harry as though he knew the guy. Granted, Vibranium was a weird metal, and Voldemort was a one-shot pony that a significantly fast Steve Rogers could get close enough to punch Riddle's jaw off, but I would say at least even chances between the two.
"You knew Captain Rogers?" I asked, instead.
"Knew him, fought with him," said Harry Evans, "Me, Boris, and Vince were part of the Howling Commando's kid after Rogers saved our arses from a prison camp. Spawned in battle and tempered by danger," he said, holding up the small glass of Sherry.
Well, that explained the paranoia and the gun, at least.
"Vince?" I asked, noting the name.
"Doctor Vincent Von Doom, Army Medic," said Harry with a smile, "your grandfather."
"My father never mentioned him," I said to cut the silence.
"He would not have known him," said Harry, "Had Werner just before the War started, never returned. We had heard that he became a Doctor like his old man from Boris, but..."
"Thank you for sharing," I said.
"Now, Magic Nazis," said Harry, "Who do we shoot to take care of them?"
"You don't," I responded with a sigh. "Your guns would jam before you are even aware."
"And could you take him out with Magic?" asked Harry, "Given what Boris mentioned and how you hold yourself. You do not have the eyes of a child, lad, and I have seen those eyes well enough."
"Reasonably," I said, considering the case of Tom Riddle. "Within a decade at least."
I knew how to take him out easily enough. Horcruxes were a thing, and I could track them down, as I knew where they would be by the end of this decade. The man himself was a different issue, but I was still Doom, and I could become competent enough to win a fight against Riddle.
"Tuney is all her mother," said Harry Evans, "but Lily, she has my eyes and my Anna's hair," dabbing his eyes as he mourned his wife before he straightened. "Would you look after my Lily-flower?" asked Harry Evans, and I knew that I would do so. "Make sure she is not harmed by those cunts?"
"Doom does not forget favors he owes," I responded simply, knowing that this old bastard had me.
Tom Riddle could fly from Death all he wanted. He would still fall before Doom.
---
# Albus Dumbledore
"The Doom of Man walks these lands once again…"
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore paused, teacup halfway to his lips. That was certainly not the response he had expected to his gentle inquiry about whether Miss Trelawney would like a biscuit with her tea.
It was a rather distressing image if Albus had to admit it to himself.
They had just been discussing her attitude, as she had given one Andrew Hargreaves a rather fright when she predicted that he would 'stumble into the abyss, dragged screaming into eternal darkness.' Given that the poor boy was only trying to decide between the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes N.E.W.T. courses, it had not helped, causing the boy to run off and fall down the Grand Staircase after not seeing that the stairs were not, in fact, there.
Then, in the Seventh year, Sybill Trelawney went rigid in her chair, eyes glazed, voice hollow and echoing as though carried by some unseen force. The candle flames flickered, guttering as an unnatural chill slithered through the room.
"Born of Serpents, born of Death, he shall hold none equal…"
Albus slowly set down his teacup, a frown etching itself deep into his weathered face.
Serpents. Death. A wizard who held none as his equal.
A most unpleasant connection began to form in his mind.
Tom.
Oh, this did sound rather like Tom.
"Clad in Silver and Steel, cast in Emeralds Weaved…"
That gave him pause. Silver and steel—armor? A warrior, then? Not quite Tom's style; the boy had always preferred an indirect approach. And yet, emerald—that was unmistakably Slytherin. If nothing else, this "Doom of Man" was certainly a wizard.
Maybe it was more symbolic, something to do with the inevitable upcoming War that Albus felt in his bones. Maybe it had something to do with the Goblins. He would need to send feelers.
"All shall bow, or all shall break, remade in debts owed, fates unmade…"
Dumbledore's frown deepened.
That was not merely ambition; that was conquest. Domination. The words painted a picture of a figure who would offer the world no compromise—only servitude or destruction. And worse yet, remade in debts owed? Fates unmade?
What did those mean?
That was the line that truly sent unease crawling up his spine. Because Tom—Voldemort—had already begun his slow, inexorable climb to power. It was whispered in the dark alleys of Knockturn, in the frightened murmurs of those who claimed to have seen him. A shadow was stretching across Britain, gathering its strength.
And now, a prophecy.
"The Doom of Man walks these lands once again…"
Oh dear.
The room snapped back to normal as though the very air had been holding its breath. The candlelight returned to its usual flickering warmth, and Sybill Trelawney slumped forward with a startled gasp, clutching her temples.
"Oh dear," she groaned. "I feel dreadful."
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, staring at her as she winced and rubbed at her forehead.
Then, he sighed.
Right. Well. That was quite the show, but— Prophecies tended to happen anyway, and Albus was certainly not going to have it affect his decisions. There were a lot of histories of Greek Magicals who had let their decisions be guided by such Prophecy only for it to happen just in the worst possible way.
"Well, Miss Trelawney," said Albus instead, gently smiling, "I am glad that you understand that it is rather unpleasant for others to hear such foretelling. That being said, given that you are about to graduate, I believe it's time we discussed your career prospects."
AN: I am motivated by discussions, feedback, and criticism. If you wish to enable my coffee addiction, I made a ko-fi account here if you wish to support my work. I can only promise to spend the time drinking coffee writing my stories, and you get absolutely nothing else in return.Last edited: Mar 25, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:captainloser, LightningLogia, Zombiep1zza123 and 1,743 othersGuldsdoneJan 29, 2025NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 003: Bargain of Doom New View contentGuldsdoneWizarding WorksFeb 6, 2025Add bookmark#146The London Sanctum.
What did I know about the London Sanctum of the Sorcerers?
Not much really.
It supposedly got blown up by Kaecilius in his little rebellion while empowered by Dormammu, but I did not really know where it was supposed to be.
So I got to searching, starting from my arrival location of King's Cross from the train I took from Cokeworth every day.
My sensitivity to Sorcery meant that I should be able to sense any high-density magic, including the protections on the Sanctum itself. It was a skill that I had only because my soul recalled a life without it, and it was one of my trump cards.
The other trump card I had was the teachings of Cagliostro that I had memorized before I hid the chest somewhere safe. I could summon and bind extradimensional entities and even absorb their power to myself if I so chose. But that was not the equivalent of having the power, and unless you full on consumed an entity ala Strange Supreme, the power was temporary and would be easy to run out. That meant that I had the trained ability to feel how thick the veil between dimensions was at any location, and it made sense that the anchor point of dimensional protections would have the veil at its thickest.
Three days of searching, a few false positives that were just some Wizarding houses, and I finally found it.
I also felt like an idiot for some reason.
221B Baker Street.
The giant Seal of Vishanti over it was rather a large giveaway of what it was.
"You have got to be shitting me," I said, looking up at the building before sighing. Of course, it was here, of all places.
I sighed and approached the door, knocking thrice.
I waited.
And I waited.
I sighed and pulled on my Chi, concentrating on a strike that would knock a normal door down or at least trigger some response.
As my hand neared the door, it opened.
"Hello Victor," said the Ancient One.
"Ancient One," I greeted the bald lady who did, in fact, resemble Tilda Swinton.
"Would you like some tea?" the Bald Woman asked.
"Certainly," I said, stepping in.
---
I took a sip.
It was good tea.
"I have questions," I said, taking another sip.
"I am sure you do," the smug smile of the Ancient One was clear as day. The bald lady seemed to be cordial at least, which was better than some extreme actions she might have gone for, like trying to kill me.
Granted, this was the same lady who was channeling the Dark Dimension to make sure she did not die of old age. While I could not feel the Dark Energy she was using, I could feel the power she had, sensing it.
I opened my mouth to speak.
"Why have I not used the Time Stone to keep myself from aging?" spoke out the Ancient One, giving me a grin. "Because I did not think of it before I stepped into the path that I am on."
"They really should put the warnings before the spells," I sighed.
"They really should," agreed the Ancient One, "Then again, how will we separate the foolish from the wise?" asked the Ancient One. "As to answer your unasked question, there are dimensions that, once a link is established, cannot be discarded. A lesson that most do not survive."
The glare and warning that I got made the lesson obvious.
For all purposes, I knew the worst type of Sorcery there was, the most dangerous one that I only survived because I knew that it was dangerous and not worth going too deep without someone there to guide me.
"I suppose given that you are capable of looking into the future for this conversation, and I am smart enough to run through every possible permutation this conversation can go through, why don't we cut to the chase," I stated. "Would you be willing to partake in a trade based on favors and tasks?"
"Do you consider yourself an asset, Victor?" asked the Ancient One, clearly amused.
"There are exactly three potential candidates for Sorcerer Supreme once you have completed your plan," I explained. "And I am not talking about the title. I am talking about the actual Mantle granted by the Vishanti," I said, having read about the Battle Royale that would allow one to claim the power of the three beings and become the Sorcerer Supreme through a test of arms every century.
"And who would those be?" asked the Ancient One.
"Mordo, who is currently part of your order but too rigid in thinking," I said, having seen the familiar face of the currently young man, "Stephen Strange, whose understanding of neurology grants him one of the greatest potentials as a Sorcerer once he is ready, and finally, one Victor Von Doom."
"Do you consider yourself Victor Von Doom, then?" asked the Ancient One, "Or do you consider yourself Victor Domashev?"
I sighed.
Wasn't that the billion-dollar question?
The letter from Hogwarts was addressed to Domashev, wasn't it? I was not certain if an enchanted item would care for something like politics or government census in that way.
"I... do not know," I responded in turn. "But, I think it is because, just as Strange is not yet ready to take on his mantle, so am I not ready for the world to see me for what I might become," I admitted. "The mantle of Doctor Doom is not one that I would take without proving that I can."
The Ancient One smiled.
"You are aware of the Multiverse?" asked the Ancient One.
"I am," I responded.
"There are many Doctor Dooms across the multiverse, Victor, and each one is a dangerous being on their own. That was the main reason I chose to take this meeting with you, to get the measure of the one I am saddled with. Make no mistake, though, Victor, there are no cases where your variants are not dangerous, both to their allies and especially to their enemies," stated the Ancient One. "But one thing that seems to be constant is that anyone under their protection has a greater chance of surviving. So, I would ask if you would be willing to protect Earth from external threats?"
"I am, to quote a dumbass, one of the idiots who lives on Earth," I said, "I would ensure the protection of Earth from external threats, be it extradimensional or extra-terrestrial, even if you did not ask."
"We shall see. As for potential training, I will not train you," said the Ancient One.
I opened my mouth to argue.
"No, of all the instances where you are trained in Kamar Taj exclusively, you make a marvelous Sorcerer, but we both know that that will limit you," said the Ancient One. "So, I will let you learn on your own, provide the resources without limitations, given that you are already educated by the works of Cagliostro and have not become a raving lunatic or an abomination made up of multi-dimensional horrors. Speaking of," she said, tossing me a bronze item.
I caught the Sling Ring that the Ancient One tossed in my direction.
"I suppose that you would like me to turn my mother's chest over?" I asked.
"No, not particularly," said the Ancient One with a cool tone. "I would rather there be a copy outside Kamar Taj, just in the event that our library is compromised. I trust you can keep it safe." A portal opened, a demonstration of her skill, and a book fell onto my lap.
"That is a book on magical defenses and wardings," said the Ancient One. "It was written by a Sorcerer Supreme after reading from the Book of Vishanti. Learn from it, and use it to protect the chest better than burying it in the middle of nowhere with runestones to shield it."
"Right," I said, putting the book into my bag. "Time stone?" I asked, knowing that the protections I placed would prevent Witchcraft and extradimensional observation.
"Indeed," said the Ancient One, "Like you said, a Victor von Doom is a dangerous asset to have or use. I have seen a million timelines where you had caused more Ruin to humanity than any other," said the Ancient One as I felt the malice in the air increase before the weight was lifted "and a million more where you have stood between Humanity and anything who dared to cause them harm. As for your first task, there is a Dark Lord in Britain that is proven to be quite annoying."
"What shall be my task?" I asked, taking another sip of the tea.
"Monitor and interfere as necessary to prevent the situation in Wizarding World from escalating," said the Ancient One. "You are not to use Sorcery in the way that Masters of Mystic Arts use unless this new Dark Lord uses them first. We would rather prefer the Magical Population not be aware of the more complex extradimensional knowledge."
Then, I understood how the two groups fit together.
"You are using the Statute of Secrecy to prevent anyone else from trying to contact the external planes," I said, knowing that even a non-magical could, in theory, create a summoning circle to breach the Seals of Vishanti, as they were very much limited to prevent entry from the outside, or so Cagliostro had found when he became Sorcerer Supreme.
"They are a useful resource," said the Ancient One, "They ensure that knowledge of Sorcery is kept limited to a smaller group and even then, most of the Magical Population is not even aware of Sorcery as a whole. Those who are aware, the Masters of the Mystic Arts usually recruit into their ranks, at least those who have proven themselves to be moral, competent and smart enough. It is much easier to do so, given the mess of politics that the Sorcerers have to get involved in."
"Department of Mysteries," I said, getting a nod from the Ancient One. "Wouldn't that require more Sanctums? Or wouldn't there be more sorcerers?"
"Not particularly," said the Ancient One, "The number of Magicals in Britain is the exception and not the norm. Can you think of any reason why Britain has a larger-than-average Magical Population?"
I considered the question, and it clicked. "Hogwarts," I said. "The Book of Admittance can detect sufficiently powerful magic. Which means a more consistent Muggleborn population."
"Exactly," said the Ancient One with a grin, "Unlike any other country, the British can actually train those with skill from a young age, not to the level of a Sorcerer, but give them enough grounding."
"So, Strange is what, a Muggleborn?" I asked.
"No, but he is close enough to be one that all it would take is a push," responded the Ancient One.
"Fine," I said, as I would effectively be agreeing to do something that I was already planning to do. "But I will need fifteen minutes with the Eye of Agamotto," I countered.
"That can be arranged," responded the Ancient One, taking a sip of her tea.
"The terms are acceptable," I stated, having already decided to study the Magic in Hogwarts.
It was not just for the sake of learning Magic alone or the fact that I promised Lily's grandfather that I would ensure the Death Eaters would end before they posed a threat to his granddaughter.
I needed a base to operate on, somewhere where I could spend my time learning and expanding my knowledge base without getting hassled too much, not just for magic but for current advancements in science and technology as well, given the differences in the tech progress that Marvel had. It also meant that I could spend a decent of the time between now and my eighteenth birthday in a location outside the purview of Hydra, after which, as a legal adult, I would have more freedom to operate in the open.
"Shall we?" asked the Ancient One, putting her cup down.
I put on the Sling Ring, pouring my Chi through it as I followed along with what it was doing.
The material was not one that I was familiar with. It felt like copper or bronze but conducted the energy in a unique fashion.
"It is Orichalcum," said the Ancient One, seeing me observe the material.
Etched along the insides of the Orichalcum were three-dimensional runes and pathways, magical circles that were designed to take in the energy given and tap into specific powers linked up to the circles.
I followed along with the energy, feeling it link up to me.
It tasted blue, for lack of a better description, as I saw the image of a cube.
Tesseract.
Space Stone.
"This is tapping into the Space Stone," I said with a gasp.
"It would be more accurate to state that the Infinity Stones themselves represent the fundamental concepts of the Universe. The runes tap into what you can state to be the Space Dimension and pull upon it," explained the Ancient One. "It has a rather long-winded explanation that I find a bit dry, but let us not dally," she said before giving a go-on motion.
I nodded, discarding that one specific plan of cutting off Thanos' arm with a portal. If the Portals relied on the same principles as the Space Stone, the Infinity Stone would counter and prevent that method from working in the first place.
Once I had a pretty decent understanding of how the energy shifted within the Sling Ring, I guided it to the space in between.
Given my new understanding of how Wizarding World worked on the same principles as Sorcery but nerfed, I took a page out of Apparition, specifically the lecture on Destination, Determination, and Deliberation.
Focusing on the destination in mind, I watched as the space before me sparked as a circle formed.
"Good job, Victor," said the Ancient One, getting up and stepping through to Kamar Taj, "Shall we?"
I was quick to follow.
---
Kamar Taj had its own distinct feel to it, apart from the difference in air pressure from the altitude.
It felt... older.
"Much more pleasant and functional than Apparition," commented the Ancient One as she walked ahead of me. "Come along, Victor,"
Soon, we were in the room that contained the Eye of Agomotto on a pedestal, and the Ancient One gestured for me to pick it up.
I did as ordered.
"Did you know that Temporal Energy is scientifically called Von Doom Radiation?" I asked the Ancient One, giving her a grin. I held my hands in the same way that I knew Strange did to open the Eye of Agomotto, and as I moved, the room was bathed in green.
"Well, not for another twenty years or so," responded the Ancient One with a smile, "though I am sure it has nothing to do with this, I do look forward to reading your paper on it."
The Time Stone was opened, and I could feel its energy waiting to be used.
Taking a page out of the way the Sling Ring worked, I poured the mix of Chi and Mental Energy before guiding it through the Infinity Stone, feeling the shift in the energy as I studied the effects of leveraging one of the fundamental building blocks of reality.
I held out my hands, weaving the energy into a Magic Circle cum Mandala that I had designed based on what I had learned. The green circle appeared in front of me before a movement had it hovering over my head.
Time stretched within the circle as the world around me started slowing down.
Then, I started my experiments.
---
# The Ancient One
It was not often that something surprised the Sorcerer Supreme.
Victor von Doom was one of those limited experiences, one that the Ancient One found refreshing if she had to be honest with herself.
Not to mention that it was particularly amusing to be at the other end of their interactions compared to the few that would take place in his future and her past.
It was usually him who knew more about her than the other way around, and even then the child version of him was far too aware for anyone who was not her to handle.
Watching the youth experience a life before his soul found its way to this Universe and merged with the soul of the original Victor von Doom was fascinating, to say the least. His struggles, his actions, it all pointed to someone who knew their fate, and feared that they could not live up to it.
Which was utterly ridiculous. The boy had a talent for Sorcery and a mind that would ensure that he succeeded in whatever he set his mind to.
The Ancient One could see how it all ended up the way it did.
Time Travelers were always a headache, to say the least.
It did mean she had to take more time to find a stable path through the chaos that the soul's arrival had been annoying to say the least, but for all his arrogance, Victor had been right about one thing.
There were not enough Sorcerers to keep everything at bay, and they certainly lacked a stick big enough to dissuade the more unruly aspect of the Celestial Politics.
To be honest, Humanity was hopelessly outgunned. They lacked enough Sorcerers to keep the balance, and there were rumblings that had been going on behind the scenes.
That was not even considering the slow but steady development of a world where secrets could not last. The Ancient One gave it half a century before the secret of Supernatural was out and about, and then there would be fools willing to trade their souls for scraps of power.
The Ancient One was old enough to see someone manipulating the events to find a way through the protections around the Seal of Vishanti. Events snowballing through time.
Victor's insight about the British Magical World was accurate. They had the largest Supernatural population in existence, nearly a quarter of multi-generational magicals. It had been a result of introducing genetic diversity from the non-supernatural population with sufficient talent for Sorcery. Their new Dark Lord was moving to ensure that the viewpoints and policies shifted to limit the introduction of the new blood, the muggleborn population, as they called it.
While the majority of that population was either far too weak or lacked the right character and diligence to become Sorcerers, they were still useful in keeping the knowledge from getting out. Significant damage to the population would lead to Sorcerers getting stretched too thin, focusing on enforcing secrecy over handling problems.
Someone was playing a very dangerous game.
But one that the Ancient One could simply address with a very big stick now.
It meant that she could focus on more urgent matters.
She smiled, watching as Victor stretched the spirit of their deal to the extreme as he spent nearly a year running through experiments with the Time Stone.
He was through, if nothing else. Pulling enough Time into himself to reset his body, recover from physical strain, and keep himself functional, even as he was tapping into the Conceptual Dimensions linked to Infinity.
He was right, at least. He was not Doctor Victor von Doom yet, but the Ancient One could see the unrefined ore that he had come from.
The Ancient One had a feeling that she should warn her contacts through the Department of Mysteries to make sure that Victor was not antagonized by the more foolish elements of the Magical Population, the ones that should never be aware of how small their pond really was, or how big of a fish was just coming in their direction.
---
# Doom
A final move closed the Eye, as I had gathered enough information to understand what needed to be done.
"Have you found the future you were looking for?" asked the Ancient One.
"Future?" I asked, "I was not using the Eye to see the future," I responded, though I knew from the gleam in her eye that she knew that already.
The old lady was cunning, if nothing else.
No, I was looking at how dimensional energy leaked into our own, using the Infinity Stone as a focus to locate the source of every similar energy signatures and where they came from.
I held up my hand.
I had come up with a lot of theories on how to mix Sorcery and Technology when I recalled how Doom, in some realities, was a master of Quantum Mechanics.
One such case was the variant of Doom from Iron Man Armored Adventures, where he had managed to tap the extradimensional energies through his mastery over the Quantum Dimension.
A bit of perspective and understanding of how Pym had used his shrinking tech to reach into the Quantum Realm and I had access to that exact same method, especially now that I understood how to pull the power of Space and Time individually.
I moved through the right combination of movement, my fingers forming the runes to channel the right energies, as I mimicked the way Strange had done during his fight against Thanos.
I felt the energy I fed come out tinted with something. The golden light of my internal energy had turned reddish violet.
'Banishing Bolt of Balthakk,' I thought as I released the energy with a loud CRACK!
I understood that the energy came through the Quantum Level, following along the evocation of the linked dimension of Balthakk through the movement of my fingers, creating a sympathetic link to the dimension and the runes bound to the entities within.
"Impressive," said the Ancient One, not sounding impressed. "Do please fix it before you leave."
I sighed as I compressed my focus, reached into the space between atoms, and pulled Time Energy from the Quantum Dimension directly instead of the Time Stone.
A counterclockwise swirl fixed the burn on the wall.
"Right," I said, having acquired what I needed. "I suppose I am off. Feel free to call if you need backup," I said, as the Ancient One smiled at me before the world around me cracked and realized that I was sent to the Mirror Dimension.
I grinned to myself. The old lady was very much a sink-and-swim kind of teacher.
It took me a few tries to link the Mirror Dimension back to the normal one and open a portal, but I now had a place to practice my more complex spells as well.
All according to Cake*.
---
*AN: Cake means Keikaku, Keikaku means Plan
AN: What, did you guys think the title Sorcerer Supreme was some basic title that anyone could claim?
Department of Mysteries existed before the Ministry of Magic. So, here is one mystery revealed; the Department of Mysteries is Kamar Taj or at least a sub-branch of it.
The Ministry of Magic's entire purpose was supposed to be to 'Preserve the Statute of Secrecy' until corruption and idiots like Fudge started using it for themselves. The problem is, they are so beneath the notice of Sorcerer Supreme that no one really bothers with them so long as they do their single job.
The main point is that Magical Population, pre-Voldemort, was an anomaly. It is extremely large because they have the means to locate every strong enough Muggleborn and train them through Hogwarts. Compared to other schools, like Durmstrang, which only takes in Purebloods, and Ilvermorny, which has canonically missed a Dumbledore under their nose, it stands to reason that the 'Muggleborn Issue' is a local one. It also explained why it was so isolated to the Isles and got no international response from ICW.
It also makes Voldemort's reputation more justified. He killed a lot of Magicals, and, until Harry's year, only had 40 children. The snake-faced fucker caused a literal extinction-level event on his own, along with his merry band of Death Munchers.
I am motivated by discussions, feedback, and criticism. If you wish to enable my coffee addiction, I made a ko-fi account here if you wish to support my work. I can only promise to spend the time drinking coffee writing my stories, and you get absolutely nothing else in return.Last edited: Aug 17, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:captainloser, Drakukeo, LightningLogia and 1,739 othersGuldsdoneFeb 6, 2025NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 004: Companions of Doom New View contentGuldsdoneWizarding WorksFeb 16, 2025Add bookmark#225# Severus
The strike sent him to the floor, his back slamming against the worn-out carpet.
He had to open his mouth, or at least that was the latest excuse.
Severus only wanted to get out of the house before his father could find any reason to let his temper explode. Apparently, saying that he was going out when asked where he was leading was enough to be mouthy.
Tobias Snape reeked of whiskey and failure, and as always, he needed someone to blame. His son and wife made the easiest targets, especially now that he'd lost his job at the mill.
"You think you're better than me, boy?" Tobias slurred, belt in hand. Eileen tried to shield Severus, but she was a wisp of a woman against her husband's bulk.
The belt came down.
And stopped.
A hand—small but firm—clutched Tobias' wrist.
"My, my. A big, strong man, picking on women and children." The voice was smug, mocking. "How impressive."
Severus knew that voice.
Victor.
He didn't like Victor.
The foreigner had inserted himself into Lily's life, and Petunia spat venom about him whenever he wasn't around—calling him a freeloading gypsy. Severus had heard the stories. The Romani were said to wield dangerous, untamed magics and ancient hexes with no cures. His mother had whispered of blood curses and dark deals, even hinting that Grindelwald himself had ties to them.
And now, one of them stood in his living room.
Tobias yanked his hand free and staggered back, eyes narrowing. "Who the fuck are you?" he growled. "Get the fuck outta my house."
Victor didn't move.
Tobias swung the belt again. Victor sidestepped effortlessly, not even breaking stride.
"I am Victor," he said simply. "We haven't met before, but I can't say that's my loss."
Tobias threw a punch. He missed.
Victor dodged again, smoothly, lazily. "Compared to the man I fought before this, you're pathetic," he said.
Severus shivered. There was something wrong with Victor's eyes. They glowed—not warm and kind like Lily's, but something deeper, something old. It was the green of decay, of erosion, of mountains turning to dust.
Then Victor moved.
His fist stopped an inch from Tobias' chest—then a pulse of force erupted outward. Tobias flew back, crashing into the wall with a heavy thud.
The room fell silent.
Victor dusted off his sleeves and turned to Eileen. "Missus Snape," he greeted, polite as ever.
"You shouldn't have done that," Eileen whispered. Fear tinged her voice. "The Ministry—"
"They detect structured magic," Victor interrupted. His eyes faded back to brown, and he gave Tobias a cold glance. "As for him, I don't tolerate men who hurt women and children."
He stepped closer.
"It would be easy to get rid of you," he mused as if debating whether Tobias deserved to keep breathing. "But I shall be merciful."
His voice shifted—darker, weighted. "Tobias Snape, in exchange for the mercy I grant you, you shall live. But the taste of alcohol will turn to ash in your mouth. And should you ever think to blame others for your failures instead of fixing them, your very blood will boil."
Tobias gasped, clutching his throat. His face paled.
Severus stared, torn between horror and fascination. "Was that... a hex?" he asked, unable to stop himself.
"A Romani hex," Victor said, turning back to him. "Conditional magic. Borderline dark. Not my preference, but useful when needed."
Severus hesitated. "Why are you even here?"
Victor tilted his head. "Lily was looking for you."
Severus blinked. "Why?"
"You're her friend," Victor said as if it were obvious. "She'd be sad if you were hurt."
Severus swallowed hard.
Lily.
She had been the first person to ever be kind to him. His mother loved him, he supposed, but it was a fragile thing—thin and worn down, like the fabric of her old dresses. Some days, she was distant, locked away in her own sadness. Other days, she was frantic, grasping at him like a drowning woman reaching for a lifeline. But she had never been steady, never safe.
Lily, though…
She had smiled at him when they first met, not out of obligation, not because she had to. Just because she wanted to.
She laughed at his jokes, even the ones that weren't funny. She defended him from Petunia's barbed words, even when she didn't have to. She made the world feel just a little less cruel.
Above all else, Lily was kind... kind in a way that no one else had been.
Had she simply sent Victor to look after Severus?
He glanced at Victor, still standing there, as if nothing unusual had happened. He had acted without hesitation, with confidence, as if stepping in was the only possible course of action. It was strange—Lily's kindness had always felt soft, gentle, something to cling to when the world became too much.
Victor's kindness was different.
It wasn't warmth; it wasn't gentle. It was absolute.
Lily had protected him with words and loyalty. Victor had protected him with force and certainty.
It should have made Severus resentful—that a stranger had come into his life, had stood between him and the world as though he had any right to. But for the first time, Severus realized what it meant to have someone there, not because they had to be, not because they pitied him, but because they simply chose to be.
Victor had stood between him and Tobias like it was the easiest thing in the world like he didn't even consider running away.
And in that moment, Severus knew—if Victor said he was safe, then he was.
He looked at the offered hand.
Severus hesitated for only a second before taking it.
Victor's grip was firm, steady.
As Victor pulled him to his feet, he spoke with an amused smirk. "Come on, Severus. Lily's waiting."
Severus nodded.
Maybe Victor wasn't so bad after all.
# Victor
Lily's insistence for someone to check on Severus had borne unexpected fruit.
"He is jealous of me and my mother," Severus muttered. "It is because we have magic and he does not. Just like any other Muggle."
"You're judging an entire population based on the actions of a few," I said, keeping my tone neutral. It was a dangerous mindset, one that could easily slip into an 'us versus them' narrative.
Severus frowned. "So, what? You're saying not all Muggles are bad?"
"I'm saying you're generalizing based on limited experience. Scientifically, you lack enough sample size to make a generalized conclusion. You're assuming correlation instead of looking for causation," I countered. "What if his lack of magic has nothing to do with his behavior?"
He hesitated. "How can you tell?"
"Because I've met people who were kind for kindness' sake and others who were cruel for reasons beyond their control." I paused. "My father was a doctor, a healer. He was the kindest person I knew, even if he didn't like magic either, but that was because it took my mother from him."
Severus's expression softened. "I'm sorry. What happened to him?"
"He died protecting me. I mourn him and accept him, in both his faults and virtues," I said mostly to myself, "but that is the fate of children, I suppose, to grow up when they realize the faults of their parents."
Severus didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the ground as we walked toward Cokeworth Train Station.
After a moment, Severus spoke up once more.
"I see," said Severus, looking thoughtful. "So, when you cast that hex, did that mean you cursed him to consider his options?"
"A hex is not a curse," I responded, "It is a more mental aspect, creating a set of conditions in the target's 'mind' to trigger a reaction. It can work on objects, but it is much more effective for people."
"So, it is a trick?" asked Severus.
"I did not cast a blood-boiling curse on your father but rather made it so that if he had certain negative thoughts, he would experience the feeling. One could argue that mind over matter takes place, and the effect of the hex becomes real as a result, but sufficient willpower and awareness can allow a person to throw it off," I explained as we walked through Cokeworth.
I did not mention the results of the caster being a Reality Manipulator, like Wanda or her kid, which would make a Hex into what could best be described as a Reality Marble, not that anyone but I had the point of reference to understand the allegory.
What followed was an interesting discussion on what a Puritan might consider borderline Dark Arts until we arrived at the Train Station and found the Evans Family waiting for us to head to London.
We had shopping to do, after all.
---
The Evans Family, sans one Petunia Evans who had thrown a temper tantrum, along with Severus and I, went to Diagon Alley to a meeting with Professor McGonagall near the pub to handle the shopping since Lily was a Muggleborn, and I was technically a foreigner.
Older Mister Evans had decided to skip it to watch over Petunia.
In theory, I could have fixed that bit of drama easily. I could have given Petunia the push to unlock Sorcery, which in turn would have unlocked her Magic in total. It would have been interesting and definitely a way for me to thumb the nose of the Pureblood ideology, even if it would put a target on the Evans family.
Yet, I did not do that, not because it was inconvenient, but because I did not really like Petunia. I could see the starting points of her future personality, the same type of personality that she would ironically share with the Death Eaters, merely too cowardly to show her cruelty in anything but words.
And words, they had a way of leaving their marks, especially insults aimed at one's guests.
So I chose to not give Petunia Evans one thing she wanted, her insults to me enough for my pride to excuse my inaction, the only mercy I showed being to keep the knowledge of what Petunia lost from herself.
Unlike Petunia, Severus, I chose to help.
There were a lot of things that I disliked about the book version of Severus Snape, who was a nasty piece of work even until the end. It was hard to reconcile the boy I had met and what I knew he would become.
That being said, unlike Petunia, Severus had shown regret for his cruelty, and he had tried to atone until his death, even if he was not a Saint. He reminded me of a wounded animal lashing out to the world over an entitled girl wanting everything to revolve around her.
Maybe it was the potential usefulness that Severus had over someone like Petunia; maybe it was just the deference and subtle fear I felt from him towards me that had led to my actions.
I suppose I did take on Doom's pride at least.
I did not ask about Severus' mother, knowing that it was a sore subject for Severus, who was invited along, officially to act as an additional guide, unofficially to get his shopping done without Tobias Snape interfering.
Severus did not mention his mother and seemed to have accepted that he could do his shopping on his own, which I could understand. What I had seen of Eileen Snape showed a woman who thought that they were trapped, her behavior matching a decent chunk of the psychology of victims of abuse, something that I had to admit I could not help without Eileen herself realizing that she could ask for it. All I could do was be there for Severus I supposed, something that the Evans family seemed to be also aware of.
As we entered the Diagon Alley, the second time for my case, I focused on observing my surroundings. I focused on the prices of things, noting the potions materials that looked interesting and books that seemed promising.
The first destination was Gringotts.
Which involved a long wait in the line and exchanging the money.
"Do you handle inheritance and claims to family lines?" I asked, mostly out of curiosity. Even if I had some family ties to Morgan Le Fay through my mother's side, it was too distant, and there were far too many of those. And if that was not the case, it would mean revealing that I was linked to the greatest Dark Witch in History.
Not to mention that if this was Marvel's version of Morgan, I was looking for a Yandere Witch linked to the Dark Dimension looking to get free from her prison, so it was best not to kick that hornet's nest.
"You got a key?" asked the Goblin, to which I shook my head. "Then that is the job of the Ministry," said the Goblin, "This is a bank."
"What is the exchange rate?" I asked in response, having known that that path was going to end up as a bust.
Not unexpected. I had half-hoped. I'd left myself some funds through time-travel shenanigans, given how Doom operated. But I wasn't the type to make things easy for myself. Adversity breeding character and all that.
"Fine. Half of this in Sickles," I said, handing over a hundred pounds. The amount I exchanged would cover what I would need and then some, leaving me with enough Silver Sickles to experiment with to see if they were, in fact, the same material as the Goblin Silver that had some unique material properties.
A part of me just hoped that Goblin Silver was not something like enchanted Vibranium that would make it a pain to acquire.
As for the exchange rate, it was, surprisingly, static.
A galleon was five pounds.
And for some reason, it did not change.
It had been set sometime after the Goblin Rebellion of 18... somethings. I did not care enough to read that much into details, to be honest, and the 19th Century had the Goblins rebel almost in every odd year.
The static exchange rate was no doubt meant to limit Muggleborn access to wealth while padding the wealth of purebloods, at least, by the value of the currencies in those times. Ironically, Non-magical Inflation would eventually outpace the Wizarding World, but Goblins cared little for such things, as it would affect the Purebloods in the majority.
Granted, Goblin Economy was one of the only Magic Proof economies in existence since I could feel the subtle feel of Sorcery in the coins themselves, implying that they were not only the three noble metals that could not be permanently conjured, transfigured, or duplicated by magic, but the enchantments woven into the coins made it impossible to melt the coins themselves.
That still did not provide a solution to my main problem.
In terms of funds, I had no funds.
Rather, I did not have too much, just enough to last me the year. I would have to figure out a way to get some money next summer. However, there were a dozen different methods that I could think of, from raiding the Room of Requirement to creating an enchanted filtration system that could extract the gold found in the ocean.
I could also do some Astral Projection, enter a bank vault, and open a portal under a pile of money, but Doom was not a simple criminal; he was above doing something like that. Not to mention that cameras were a thing even at this age.
Fucking Stark running a one-man tech uplift.
For now, I had twenty Galleons, thirteen sans the wand, to budget.
Ten galleons went to a chest to put stuff in that was simple and without any flourishes, just a blank slate that I would be enchanting. It was better to keep the Chest of Cagliostro away and safe.
A Galleon for Potions ingredients and a decent pewter cauldron set, along with a decently intact enchanted Telescope.
A few Silver Sickles went into secondhand open robes, hand me find the jackpot, open robes and not those stupid dresses. The only dress Doom could tolerate was a tabard, and that still had proper armor underneath. Granted, the more reasonable and easier-to-use robes were, for some reason, out of fashion compared to the literal Medieval robes, but fuck that backward reasoning, Doom toots his own horn.
Severus and Lily went for the more 'modern' clothing.
As we exited the shop, I channeled a bit of Time Energy into the clothing, disguising it as a mix of Transfiguration and Repairing charms, even as the wear and tear on it vanished.
Time for some books.
---
"You seem quite skilled with Magic already, Mr. Domashev," McGonagall noted as I flipped through an Arithmancy text.
"My mother instructed me with the basics before she passed," I responded, reading through the theory.
"Will you buy it, Victor?" Lily asked next to me, trying to keep up.
"Most of these books are in the Hogwarts Library, Miss Evans," she assured Lily.
But I wasn't just browsing. I was deciphering, trying to find where Wizardry ended and Sorcery began.
Wizardry, or officially the Merlinian Magic System, relied on Numerology rather than tapping directly into Dimensional Energies. Latin incantations weren't just tradition; they were calculated formulas, each letter assigned a Numerological Value based on the work of Pythagoras, each word holding a number value affecting magical properties of the spell, combined with the pseudo-Latin words that means something.
None of the books explained why it had to be Latin or how Intent and Willpower came into play. There were some exceptions to the standard spells, but those were classified as forms of Ancient Magic... which could be an umbrella term for anything that was linked to pure Sorcery, given how the Wizarding World seemed pretty much willing to ignore those implications.
If I had to make a guess, the Incantation itself worked as an Evocation, but even that theory was flawed, using the Numerological Foundation to tap into Dimensional Energies indirectly.
If that theory held through, then yelling out Protego should be the magical equivalent of a Sorcerer invoking the Shield of the Seraphim. That, of course, made no sense. Wizard Spells paled in comparison to the power of proper Sorcery, which would fit the idea that the Merlinian Magic System acted as a buffer between the Extra-Dimensional Energies and the caster's intent.
Compared to Sorcery, where you literally traded with the dimension by exchanging your Chi with the dimension's own energy, the method that Wizards had was 'safer.'
It was a trade-off, giving up the power and precision for the versatility and ease of learning and use. Anyone with a sufficient understanding of the method could craft a simple incantation and wand movement.
To me, who had learned to tap into the specific ecocentric and exocentric dimensions, it was akin to working with training wheels.
I could even theorize that the spells that existed linked up to weaker but also free conceptual dimensions that were part of the Universe instead of across dimensional barriers, further limiting the dangers of the Wizarding World while also allowing for a trained resource to call upon by the Sorcerers.
"This is not a Library, young man. Are you going to pay for that?" asked someone standing over me.
"I do not think so," I stated, "Especially not since there are various mathematical errors on page three hundred and eighty-four," I said, handing the heavy tome to the clerk, "Someone might get hurt following such a flawed tome."
I moved picking the required materials only.
I could have tried to find books on Occlumency, I supposed, but I did not really need to. Cagliostro was an expert in a particular brand of Sorcery, and half the books his chest contained were methods that could be generalized by 'How not to get possessed by an Eldritch Horror,' making me quite good with Mental Arts.
That was also not to mention that I had been slowly pouring energy from the Mind Dimension that existed as part of this reality to further reinforce everything.
It was particularly fortuitous that the effect of that particular practice would slowly boost my brain's ability to process information while I was going through puberty.
Was that considered cheating?
No.
If Richards could use his elasticity to make his brain larger and more developed, I was allowed to use Magic to make myself smarter and slow my perception of time to have a significantly longer time to think and plan.
We finally made it to the last stop of our shopping trip, the Wand shop.
As we entered the dingy wand shop, my eyes glared at the old man waiting in the corner under a concealment charm, the spell not hiding his Chi one bit.
"Ah, Minerva, it is nice to see you again," Ollivander said, walking along as though he had not been just hiding to scare a bunch of kids. "Fir, dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches; how is your wand."
"Functional," responded McGonagall, a hint of a smirk on her lips, even as she evenly added, "just like how you asked three days ago when I visited you with another family."
I suppressed my need to laugh at the amount of sass radiating from the cat lady.
"Right, who first," asked Ollivander, not at all ashamed of being called out.
I nudged Lily, who bravely took a step forward.
"Willow, Unicorn Tail Hair," I muttered, getting a strange look from Ollivander.
After ten wands, Ollivander sighed and pulled out a wand that matched Lily. "Willow, Unicorn Tail Hair, ten and a quarter, swishy and good for charms. Care to guess the other two, Mister von Doom?"
My amusement faded as I met the eyes of the man.
It was not a mental intrusion, which meant an alternate method. I poured my energy through my feet and felt the spell woven into the floor as I found it, a name discernment spell... or something along those lines.
"I go by Domashev for now," I responded, as I observed the already old wand maker's eyebrows rise at seeing what I had done before he grinned.
"Sorcery at eleven, how wonderful indeed," said Ollivander clapping. "Now, onto your other companion, Mister..."
"Snape, Severus Snape," said Severus, as Ollivander nodded.
"Ah, yes, Eileen's boy, of course," said Ollivander, "Mister Domashev, care for a guess?"
I did not really know what Severus' original wand was, but I could make a guess.
"Hawthorn, dragon heartstring," I said before pausing, recalling how Snape was so similar to both Riddle and Harry in the other timeline. "No, phoenix feather... definitely snappy."
Snape gave me a glare as Ollivander chuckled.
"A peculiar choice, but one that I had made," said Ollivander, handing the wand to Severus, who smiled as a wave of smoke was released from the wand.
"Now, onto the most vexing wand of the day," said Ollivander.
"Elder," I said simply, refusing to budge.
"Yes, peculiar indeed," said Ollivander, "Though, I could see a bit of Hazel there as well, and definitely not Unicorn, so Dragon Heartstring or Phoenix Feather."
"Thestral Tail Hair is out of the question, I suppose?" I asked, going for the only proper pairing that I could think for me.
Ollivander looked thoughtful, his silver eyes glazing over. "No, not yet," he said before shaking himself.
"Shall I just summon the one that fits me best?" I asked, feeling mischievous, as I held up my hand, "Make them all choose which one to serve me."
"NO!" said Ollivander, pushing my hand down, "No, no, no. We would be buried in wands. The point is to find one that fits you the best, Mister... Domashev, not one that would just work for you."
He turned and walked away to the back.
"I suppose I cannot interest you in Holly, Phoenix Feather?" asked Ollivander, shaking the wand box in his hand like it was candy and I was a babe.
"No," I said with finality.
"Pity," said Ollivander, taking the wand and snapping it before throwing it behind himself.
"Elder, Dragon heartstring of a particularly vicious Hebridean Black, fifteen inches, unbending," he said, waiting for me to pick said wand up. "Very versatile, very proud, very destructive, but also very protective."
My hand hovered over the wand, feeling it react to my power.
There was power in there, a source of energy that was disconnected from mine. The moment my Chakra interacted with the wand, it leapt into my hand, yielding power to me in a way that felt automated.
The closest item that I had that did something was the Sling Ring that was on the chain around my neck.
"You are acceptable," I said, holding my hand over the wand, eager to be used.
I lifted it up, trying to see how the movement might link me to a hundred different sources of Dimensional Energies to see if the wand acted as a buffer for Sorcery, finding only a bare hint of something in there that was hard to decipher, far too subtle for even my Magic Sense.
"Well?" asked Ollivander, waiting for my response.
I ignored the old Wandmaker, instead observing the wand.
Why was it a wand? Why not a ring and a stick?
The Magic System that the Wizards used leveraged Mathematics, and a straight line was almost universally representative of one.
I held up the end of the wand, looking through the end of it to observe the circular form.
The circular wand that was a straight stick, I could almost feel the 'how' the wand did what it was doing.
A circular wood enveloping a piece of Magical Creature part in the center... I could almost imagine it as a form of Magical Circle.
"Is it leveraging Euler's Identity Function to tap into the correct energy signature?" I blurted out, having read some of the mathematical foundations that Sorcerers themselves used in the creation of their Mandalas.
Euler's identity was the universal constant of the world. It was the seed of all mathematics.
The formula was a simple one.
LaTeX:eπi+1=0A simple equation that defined the constants that existed in Mathematics. Pi, Euler's number, imaginary numbers, one and zero.
In theory, due to its constant nature, that equation could be leveraged as the starting point of any form of language translation model, at least when it came to translating extra-terrestrial languages.
"Not many have the understanding," said Ollivander with a smile, "A wand links the Numerological Foundation of Spells to the user, allows for incantations to work, and defines the foundation of the Merlinian Magic System. It is not often that someone asks questions regarding High-Level Magic Theory, but I suppose you are something else, Victor von Doom. Now, go ahead and give it a wave."
I considered what spell I would cast before I decided on the one that was sufficiently impressive for me.
Clearing my mind and focusing on the right emotions and mental framework, I whispered, "Expecto Patronum."
The Patronus required 'happy memories,' though a more accurate understanding could be acquired if you knew Latin. 'I await a guardian' was the literal translation, though 'I hope for a guardian' was another option. And hope, the knowledge that even the darkest of times could pass, was a strong power for the purposes of such a spell. It, therefore, made sense that the Patronus actually required a reason to go on, and happiness was one of the functional methods one could use to achieve it.
I could will myself to be happy, I could force myself to feel the emotions required, but that felt like cheating. Instead, I called upon something deeper, a memory that was precious to me all the same. I had focused on the day Werner died, his final act, the protection of his child, me. I focused on the day that Cynthia died, her final act a sacrifice. I felt their protection, their love, and their sacrifice and wrapped it into my willpower as I spoke the words.
The energy from my body moved through the wand, and for once, I noticed how it seemed to reach out for a dimension of pure light that seemed to judge me in a way before finding something that it approved.
The energy felt the same way that the Shield of The Seraphim had done, to be honest, and I had a feeling that the two spells shared a fundamental base. Whatever dimensional energy I tapped into had looked at me, judged me, and saw through me. It saw through the guilt and grief of the death of Werner, the last act of protection that I witnessed from him. It somehow latched onto my determination to protect those that I considered under my protection.
The energy flowed back into me instead of expelling from the tip of the wand, tracing something within my very soul, a piece of me that was part of me and also not a part of me. It was a Totem of sorts, a Familiar, a guide of my own spirit, and the Totem moved to form the vessel to fill the pure light; a scaled head, a pair of wings, and a long tail that took the shape of a dragon.
The room was quiet as the dragon looked around and unleashed a gust of white-colored flame, roaring his challenge to any who would dare stand against it.
AN: Some reflections on Severus, Petunia, and the general Magic System along with the Obligatory Diagon Alley Scene done properly, because let's face it, buying a Seven Compartment Trunk that can house a small army before forgetting it even existed is just annoying to read about.
I am motivated by discussions, feedback, and criticism. If you wish to enable my coffee addiction, I made a ko-fi account here if you wish to support my work. I can only promise to spend the time drinking coffee writing my stories, and you get absolutely nothing else in return.