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An attractive Dark Wizard once said that magic depends on belief – if one cannot imagine a thing to be true, then their own powers will suffer unreliability.
-Harry Potter-
Harry Potter, unaware of his heritage, grew up being forced to face the harsh realities of the world rather than all of the creative wonders that may be around every new corner. As he descended into the catacombs of a mausoleum, however, his heart beat faster wtihin its ribbed confines at the mere thought that anything more frightening, than all he’d seen, could be out there.
“Scarier than you can ever fantasise yet more wonderful than your wildest dreams,” the mayor, Thomas Riddle’s words echoed in his mind now.
Looking around, the space was filled with locked boxes indented into the walls which surrounded a workspace he’d attribute more to a teenager playing a witch rather than the grown elected official of a rural town. There was a cauldron slowly simmering, bubbling away, almost like it’d been preserved in its present state while in a rush. A book sat unassumingly on the table next to it, opened to the recipe for an undetectable hypnotising tonic.
As concering as that was, it had nothing to do with why he was there at that moment.
His hands shook slightly when he took the key out of his pocket. He didn’t know why, for all he knew this was all just an unamusing prank being played on him. Yet still, his hand movements were unsteady while unlocking the third locked box closest to the entryway. Gently, he pulled out a smaller container from inside.
Inhaling a steadying breath, he opened that parcel as well, revealing…
It dropped from his hands in shock. A wave of nausea rising within himself.
Right there, in an otherwise inconspicuous wooden case sat a slowly beating heart.
“Oh, good, you located the puppet’s heart,” Thomas’ voice only succeeded in further startling Harry, who jumped backward at the sound.
“W-why do you have people’s hearts in boxes? How do you—”
The mayor rolled his eyes at the other man’s dramatics, “We don’t have time for that. I mean, not unless you were lying before about wanting to save Pinochio.”
“Well, no—”
“Then, grabbed his heart and let’s get out of here. He only has a limited time to be saved.” He snapped his fingers while turning back around in order to leave the catacombs. A gesture that was clearly meant to be demeaning towards Harry, who begrudgingly and leisurely lifted the box off the ground with a semi-digusted expression on his face mixing with terrified green eyes.
Perhaps everything that Howell had been saying about the others being fairytale creatures wasn’t entirely incorrect…
“How is that ever since we broke the spell of amnesia on everyone, we keep running into more and more problems caused by magic?” Though he still often found himself sceptical of certain things, such as his own importance to those now around him, Harry had to embrace what he saw with his own eyes.
The mayor looked rather uninterested in the line of questioning as he played with a random object on his desk, “My working theories are that either this was all somehow orchestrated by Voldemort—”
“Mr Gold.”
“—as an attempt to stave off the boredom he was surely going to experience in a world without magic, or we’ve now become easier for magical users of the other world to locate now that we’ve brought such things to a world that isn’t meant to have any of it.”
Groaning, the green eyed man accentuated his frustration with a dramatic lean backwards in his chair, “Well, it would be nice if they’d give us a little bit of breathing room, at least.”
“Oh, sweetie, the wicked don’t work like that,” Thomas looked up from the rubix cube in his hands, giving Harry a knowing smile coupled with a slightly, dare he say it, seductive glance.
“Yeah and you’d know,” it wasn’t posed as a question, since they both knew the truth of its accusation.
The only response to those words was a sharp grin, before the conversation changed entirely. “So, who will Howell be staying with tonight, then?”
“It’ll have to be you,” a sigh left Harry’s mouth, “I’ve got too much paperwork and Lily has a case she wanted me to see her about over dinner.”
“Perfect – I was hoping to have a nice night in with our son anyways.”
“Mr Gold? Mr Gold!” Harry called out to the more monster than man, approaching from beside his shop.
“Yes, Mr Potter? What is it?” Though Voldemort turned towards the other, he did so with a heavy impatience clear in his stance.
“Did you get that—?”
Before the green eyed man had a chance to finish, a package magically appeared in Mr Gold’s hands. “New sets of keys for all of those fresh locks you installed at the station, just as you asked,” his smile was polite, though rather pinched.
“Oh, thank you,” Harry took the awaiting box from his hands.
“Will that be all? I’ve got a date with Minerva.”
“Well…” He had started to dive into the thick of some information he needed, but upon seeing the Dark One’s expression, he quickly changed direction. “Actually, it can wait until later.”
It wasn’t that urgent.
“Thought so,” with that, Mr Gold immediately preceeded on his route towards his car.
Sometimes, Harry wondered if Voldemort could read his thoughts — it wouldn’t even be the most surprising thing that the man was capable of — but would then decide not to think about the other’s quirks too much.
“You still don’t have enough faith in yourself,” Thomas admonished in the middle of their weekly lessons, getting far closer than absolutely necessary.
The words and action caused Harry to drop the garden stone he was in the process of levitating.
“Well—” he began to retort, only for their conversation to be interrupted by James.
“Come quick! It’s Howell!”
Fin?