The night smelled of rain and oil.
London had its own rhythm — puddles reflecting neon, tires hissing across wet pavement, and strangers always walking too quickly, always glancing at me as though my small body meant trouble.
Four years old.
Dark-haired.
Clothes frayed from the orphanage, and countless numbers of previous owners and patches by the staff members.
To them, I was just another gutter rat waiting for the chance to slip a hand into their pocket.
Twice I caught the twitch of suspicion in passing men, the way their fingers brushed their wallets as I walked by.
If only they knew.
I had stolen more than coins.
I had stolen futures.
And tonight, I was leaving the filth of the orphanage behind.
The condo sat only a few blocks from the orphange gates, unimpressive from the outside — a block of glass and concrete among a dozen others.
No one passing would guess it belonged to a phantom, purchased under the name of a company controlled by people who didn't exist.
The neighbor gave me a sharp look as I slipped in, his suspicion thick as smoke.
But he didn't stop me.
To him, I was just a child sneaking where I didn't belong.
If he had known the paperwork, the bank statements, the titles all signed and sealed, he might have dropped to his knees.
Or laughed himself hoarse.
Either way, I didn't care.
The key was where it was supposed to be, hidden under the false rock at the corner of the building's planter.
My small hand closed around it with something like triumph.
A door opened to silence, after admittedly a little to long of a struggle to get the door opened by myself.
The condo smelled of fresh paint, leather, faint polish.
The place had been redecorated per my specifications to bring this run down condo up to a modern estetic that matched my own design requirements, while the rooms were fully furnished with furniture, shelves, lighting and the rest.
"People."
That word still amused me.
None of the workers or deliverymen knew they were working for a ghost, but all the same they obeyed the ghosts orders and set of this home to be taken over by the true master... me!
Through careful wires and calls, the world bent to my will.
I was like Charlie, dictating my orders to my angels via speaker grill, and having them readily obey my commands.
The living room itself told me how well they had obeyed.
Packages stacked high, shopping bags draped over the sofa.
Boxes sealed with tape, envelopes marked urgent.
I tore through them one by one, fingers trembling not with childish eagerness but with the precision of someone checking a ledger.
Designer clothes.
Shoes polished enough to reflect my face.
A shoebox filled with neat bricks of British pounds, rubber bands cutting into their edges.
Another box clinked with gems and gold, tiny fortunes piled casually as though they were sweets.
Writing tools — real pens, expensive paper notepads.
It was all here.
The transformation happened quickly.
My rags fell to the floor.
Replaced with Silk shirt, Trousers that fit, staying up even without a belt, Shoes shining like mirrors.
In the cracked reflection of the hallway mirror, I no longer looked like a half-starved orphan.
I looked like a young noble scion — arrogant, sharp, untouchable, even using product to style my hair in the same way as a certain foul mouthed future slytherin until i could get myself in for a proper haircut to deal with my excessive hair.
Exactly what I needed.
The shoeboxes went into a backpack.
Heavy.
Perfect.
Enough cash and collateral to begin greasing the wheels of my coming in both worlds.
Because now, at last, it was time.
Four years of Muggle advancement.
Four years of building the foundations of an empire in the shadows.
Nyx had reshaped industries, started fueling politics, built wealth that would make nations kneel.
But this was only the beginning.
The magical world — stagnant, arrogant, stuck in the nineteenth century or sometimes even further back than that, while the Muggle world rushed forward — was next.
I would build the same shadow there.
A phantom genius whose name no one could trace, who offered knowledge and power just far enough ahead of its time to change everything.
Hidden behind a new psuedonum Arcana who would be my Nyx on the Magical world side.
And in the process, I would begin to creep my influence into the other side of the world, digging roots into a world that had rejected me, even if only because of the whims of a hysterical woman.
This wasn't ambition.
It was vengeance.
The son she cast away would rise up to tower over anything Potter himself could ever achieve, becoming a figure that all would know and remember for all time, while she was remembered as the fool who shunned this genius, and bringer of the future for the whole world.
I paused by the window, looking down at the city sprawled beneath me.
The orphanage was behind me now — the peeling wallpaper, the stale bread, the hollow-eyed children clawing at scraps.
None of that mattered anymore. I had climbed out of that pit with nothing but will and memory.
And the memory that mattered most — the face of Lily Potter, twisted in horror, whispering Severus as though my existence was a curse.
That moment was carved into me deeper than bone.
I would make her regret.
Not with screams or blades.
But with the sight of a child she discarded becoming the storm that reshaped both worlds.
I slung the backpack over my shoulders.
The shoebox clinked with hidden treasures.
My new clothes fit like armor.
And with every step toward the door, the path became clearer.
Destination: Diagon Alley.
I could already see it in my mind — the crooked streets, the bustling shops, the owl feathers floating in the air.
Wizards who looked down on Muggles yet clung to candles and parchment.
A world ripe for someone like me.
I would slip into it quietly, the way I had slipped into the Muggle world.
At first, a whisper.
Then a name.
Then a shadow too large for anyone to ignore.
They would call me Arcana my magical alter-ego.
But whatever mask I wore, behind it would always be Cassius — the child cast aside, the bastard son who had clawed his way back from obscurity.
And when the time came, when my power stretched across both realms, when my reach was long enough to close around the throat of fate itself…
Then Lily Potter would see what she had created.
After spending the night in my new home, i awoke to the morning light and crisp air of London in the summmer.
The lock clicked shut behind me.
The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and shining.
the rising sun making the pavement appear as if it were comprised of gold.
Leaving my new home behind for a moment to amble into a taxi that had been called to take me where i needed to go.