Chapter 8
~Leaky Cauldron, shady corner~
Eggman eyed the blond man over the table, "You said you wanted an interview." It wasn't a question, but more of a reminder.
"Yes, yes" Xenophilius searched his pockets for something to write with. Seeing this Ivo signed and grabbed a pen out his pocket, "I want it back when this is over."
Nodding he took the pen and twirled it in his hands, "Between us, I prefer to write with muggle utensils, much more comfortable than feathers."
Coughing Xenophilius made the most serious and professional face he could, "What are you thoughts on the "Toad conspiracy"?"
The doctor raised an eyebrow, "I'm unfamiliar with that one, elaborate."
"Well, it's about the possibility that the ministers undersecretary is in fact not actually a woman but a dark wizards experiment in attempt of turning animals into humans to grow his army." Xenophilius spoke in a completely calm voice, without a hint that what he said was in the slightest a joke.
'Is he serious?' After studying the mans face Ivo came to the conclusion that, yes, he is. 'On the other hand, what are the odds that one of the oversized pest inflated their government?'
"I must say, it's not unlikely, I encountered many animals that are the size of small humans, so yes. There might be a mutated toad the size of a adult pretending to be a human in your government. But the real question is, what are their goals?
I say the must likely is to take over the government or puppeteer it."
Lovegood nodded and wrote it all down, "Now to the question all readers want to know, how come that you're the guardian of the boy-who-lived, doctor?"
Eggman was perplexed, "The boy-who-lived? I need you to explain that one too, journalist."
"Ah yes, how unthoughtful of me. As you know, Harry Potter parents tragically passed one eventful night." Eggman nodded, "Yes, it was Halloween 10 years ago, I remember it clearly like it was yesterday, I found Harry on my doorstep in the early morning."
"You're doorstep? What a coincidence, I found my daughter in by a pond once." Xenophilius said joyfully nostalgic, "But that's off topic. The man that killed them is never named in public, so to keep attention away from us," He quickly wrote Voldemort on a piece of paper and slipped it over to Ivo who looked at it and simply stated, "That's a dumb name."
The blond journalist nodded, "Indeed, and he killed Harry's parents with the killing curse, a spell that has always killed what it hit, with one exception."
"That being Harry, that's why the moniker."
Xenophilius nodded, "Indeed, the boy did the impossible and his being held as a savior for it. But we're getting off topic.
Back to you, Doctor." Eggman grinned wild.
______________________________________
Harry eyed the feather curiously in his other hand a copy of, "Wandlore and crafting for beginner" that Olivander leand him.
As he walked in the pub, eyes scanning for his uncle, he was approached by a man.
"H-harry P-p-potter" He spoke in an almost forced sounding stutter. The boy turned around to see a man dressed in purple with turban of the same color standing an arm length behind him.
"Hmm, Hello... Mister?" He eyed him skeptically, 'I really need to find out why everyone here is so awkward about me.'
"Quirrell, P-profes-sor, a-actually." He twitched on the spot but his eyes never leaving Harrys.
"It's... nice... to meet you, professor...
what exactly are you teaching?" 'Calm down and be polite, he's just another weirdo of many, even if he gives me a headache looking at him.'
"De-defense ag-ainst the dark a-rts,
it's q-quite t-the excit-ting t-to teach.
Harry raised an eyebrow, "Defense, does that mean there's an offense class?" Quirrell gave him a puzzled look, "N-no, at least n-not in H-hogwart."
"Okay... see you in school... professor." 'Alright, enough socializing for a day, let's go home.'
Quirrell look at the retreating form of the boy, 'Master, did you manage to read his mind?' A voice, both literal and figurative from the back of his mind spoke to him, and only to him.
'Such a brilliant young mind, but polluted with muggle ideas and machinery, but perhaps... I can make him see the real power of magic over the little toys of that egg shaped buffoon.'
____________________________________________________
"What a tragic person you are, you simply want to better the world with your mashines, but the world just won't let you. I know that, when you see things different than others, the others will call you crazy, stupid and weird."
"Such narrow minded fools have no place in the world that I'm creating." Ivo looked to his side, "Harry, did you get your magic stick?"
"Not really, uncle, I got the core part of one and am planning to take it myself." Harrys gaze shifted to the man opposite of his uncle. Xenophilius gave him a pleasant smile, raising his notebook and the borrowed pen, "If I may ask for the press, Mr. Potter, what impression as the magical world made on you so far?"
Harry looked around, almost as if looking for the right words, "It's... odd... definitely different from everything I'm used to."
Xenophilius took notes, "I'm guessing you want to bring some of your home with you. Most of our world would dislike that greatly, change and all, personally I wouldn't mind something different." He stood up, "Thank you, both of you for your time, but I must go, my daughter probably misses me already. Goodbye, Ivo, bye, Mr. Potter."
"Bye, Xenophilius/blond guy."
Harry looked at his uncle again, "Would you mind if I recycle the "Silver Sonic" model for my wand?"
"That old thing is just collecting dust anyway, so sure." Ivo eyes darted on the little note on the Eggmobile, "Who the hell gave me a ticket for wrong parking!"
__________________________________________________
~Eggbase~
After flying home, and blowing up a police station on the way, Harry immediately got to work, pulling the wrecked rusted silver sonic out the scrapyard, 'I think just his arm will do.' Taking the arm off proofed more easily then expected, 'Well, he is trashed after all.' Removal of the hand and cable proof more difficult, 'the screws are too rusted to be removed normal.' After thinking some time Harry simply came to the conclusion of, 'Screw it, I throw it in the furnace as it is. What's the worse that can happen?'
__________________________________________________
Eggman looked at his safe-room, looking at the money that was taking out of Harry vault from the goblin bank.
Brushing his mustache with his hand he simply thoughtwhat any man would think in his position,
'When I have the room full of coins, would I be able to swim through them like Scrooge McDuck?'
But he was brought out his thoughts by a KABOOM.
Sighing he grabbed the Eggtalker out one of his many pockets, "Harry." It projected a hologram of his nephew who was on his Eggtalker.
"If this is about the explosion, don't worry, nothings broken, I'm unharmed, and my wand forging come to fruition." he said proudly.
"And that the fact that you're as bold as me is nothing to worry about?" "I'M WHAT?" Harrys hand whooshed to his head, his hair still there, he could hear his uncle chuckling.
"Haha, very funny, uncle, I'll call you back when I'm done.
__________________________________________________
~Azkaban, warden office~
"Man, you won't believe what that Lovegood looney wrote this time."
"You're still ready that garbage? We have a serious job here."
"Man, relax, the dementors behave just fine, we don't need to checked on them every second."
"Well, I'm rather on my guard in case these things to go rogue."
"Man, hear this, "The boy-who-lived is being raised by a revolutionary mind" let me tell ya man, that looneygood wrote that the Potter boy was raised by a-" he interrupts himself with a chuckle, "by a muggle dark lord, HAHAHAHA."
His coworker found no reason to laugh at this, instead he was annoyed by his colleagues unprofessional behavior simply took the newspaper out his hand crumbled it and threw it away, "If you do that the dementors will eat us whole.
"And if you do that one more time the dementors won't be what gets you."
________________________________________________
As fate would have it, the crumbled paper made it's way into cell, right to the feet of the only occupant, a pale gaunt figure that might have been handsome years ago.
Uncrumbling the paper and reading through it, is only to beat the boredom for a few moments, the tired gray eyes widen for every word processed.
Regret filled the figure, 'They entrusted you to me, and now you being raised to be the next dark lord by this Robotnik guy." Self-loathing was plenty but was soon replaced by anger.
Anger at the rat that betrayed them.
Anger at the government for putting him into this hell hole wrongfully.
Anger at himself for for succumbing to it all, for not being there when he was needed, for his best friend, or his son.
With new found strength, the black bog ran at the bars and slipped through.