Chapter 1
The Boy in the Crib
**
Surprise and discomfort of a new kind were experienced one morning in a crib. here for the first time a baby's eyes consciously discovered the world. The world being a chamber that the crib sides and new-born feeble muscles resumed mainly to a roof. The roof for his part was a boring companion. Close one nonetheless; being bored staying more enjoyable a hobby than concentrate on the utmost sense of weakness he was feeling, the fact that finding back some mobility would probably see him broke his neck, his hypersensible mainframe was mentally overload even when facing a positive stimuli or the damned feeling of hungover the lot had on his stomach.
After somewhat finding back his bearing in between the trippy side of the experience and the massive depression caused by the absurd turn his life had taken, he had been able to gather a form of clarity. Not on the situation, alas. Except that he was recently born and of a wealthy family if Roof luxurious boredness was any indicator. The style and furniture seemed largely out of date but he had a soft spot for this kind of environment and had promptly judged it preferable to any mind whispers of time travel or worse isekai. On a more personal level he remembered what he estimated was short to all he must have known in terms of knowledge. Be it academic or culture and hobbies, everything seemed clear and present if strangely specialized yet chaotic in themes.
Maybe it would have made more sense had he at least remembered his age or name. Those kinds of information eluded him but were soon judged trivial. His spirit and thought patterns were of an evident unknown personality. Enough to satisfy his need for an identity at the moment. The baby who shouldn't be one was far more unhinged by imperfections in some domains of the knowledge he had been quick to take pride into. The affection he found himself having for those strange hoardings his brain had made was pushing him to swear their pursuit when the door facing the crib slid and creaked.
A couple, presumed mom and dad, entered the room with more subtlety than the door promptly, but delicately, shut behind them. Both wore gray robes sewn and embroidered with care in the finest silk. The outfit may have been of fine good and quality, they were simple and unpretentious in design, serious yet delicate, having for only distinct features the embroidered outline of a curious vine. Said vine would curl gracefully around their body before descending their right arm in a firm coil. It would sport marvelous flowers one instant; draw deadly thorns the next. The man had short light brown hair whose style seemed carefully made a bit out of order and deep thundering eyes. The woman had loose blond curls cascading freely around her shoulders, her gaze was hazel full of life and warmth. Both were now above the crib and their smile was carved in the purest of love.
Our protagonist unfortunately didn't care much at that moment. He had yet to realize their presence. The sound made by the door hadn't been unnoticed but had proven insufficient to retain his attention.
The youngling was lost in wonder as he mentally listed the subjects that were of the foremost interest for him. His scientific knowledge was quite large but rusty so he figured to relocate time for physics, math and, more by love for machines and gears than anything else, decided adding engineering would be a good idea. History and philosophy as hobbies, various interests for late night reading; why not military tactics in order to better understand conflicts saw during his history sessions ? Then he'll let his interests form freely and expand from this solid basis. He knew he would be delighted to discover the secrets of folklores or simply know the name of the oldest thing alive. His family seemed rich. (He suspected it hadn't been the case before.) He had few enough needs that a life of nothing but reading was a concrete possibility. And...
"Mandrake ~" Said the man in a sweet voice, practically a coo.
It seemed the couple had had their fill of contemplation and now desired the attention of their offspring. That or they liked bringing up random plant names, which was fine if surprising. The baby didn't budge and kept on staring dreamily into the void.
"Mandrake Amaranth Greengrass." Said the woman this time with mixed impatience and urgency.
The glare and tone Lady Greengrass certainly was of less sweetness than her husband call. However it wasn't what had finally gotten his, I suppose Mandrake, attention.
Greengrass
The name just uttered he had turned his head with so much violence that should his muscles had been able to move, his neck would not have only broken in his head. For a minute of a second the name was left echoing like a bell in his mind.
It was a Harry Potter isekai !
In an instant dreams of peace had been blown away, scrambled on the nursery floor and ript apart. Unless he was in the uncharted before 1900 territory (Which was still as described : uncharted), he'll have up to three wars in the foreseeable future. Thought the toddler in increasing panic. He'll probably be at school during a conflict... What was worse ? The scenario where he ends up at school with Tom ? at school with Tom main minions ? Or at school with Tom's main target ? He wanted to rejoice about magic, especially since a part of him was already adding its various subjects to the to read list. Problems were : the magic system was a mess leaving a dirty taste in his mouth and meant that any 11 year old could kill by accident. Those wands were worse than guns. Should he do something about Tom ? What if events change for the worse ? Didn't his presence already modify the outcome ? There shouldn't be a Mandrake Greengrass. Had he stolen someone's body ?! Could he give it back ? Was that his life ? Conscious for less than a day with cursed knowledge and destined to the blood fest ! Unless he flees but how as a child, to end up in the street ? He'll never have time to read !!!
During Mandrake's mental breakdown Lord Greengrass had, after noticing the shift in his son's attention, cautiously seized the boy in such a way that they were at arm's length distance from each other, their gaze at the same level. His wife, hand resting delicately on her husband's shoulder, was observing the scene. They had thought for a moment at first that the child was unresponsive, thus unwell.
Now reassured, curiosity had taken the lead. As it was often the case with young children and their reactions, which some would pretend to who listen could indicate future greatness in their offspring. The Greengrass weren't of those who shared such thoughts but instead of those families who believed there was in mind and magic more to the young than the wises like to give. Thus all the more curious about their children's behavior. Their curiosity would not go unwarranted and Crocus and Amaryllis would neither forget nor completely understand what they saw. A soon to be habit.
While looking ahead their son was looking somewhere. Somewhere through them, the door, the walls and the wards. He had those eyes. Those strange eyes whose blue was too light and stained of orange. The orange stain, they noted, had moved once again. Covering approximately a third of each eye, it never was quite the same the day after. Trusted mediwitches and specialists had of course examined the boy but found nothing out of the ordinary if for an advised monitoring and Nutripotion. Nothing had happened since then. The boy hadn't pip a sound. Those eyes were unnatural still, they could not help but think even if their love was untouched. Not only for their color.
A sharp shard and odd shine were lurking admits the aged surface of a mirror, the pursuit of their secrets always seemingly so close always to find nothing more than your own darkness. Now for the first time the surface had reflected something other to the couple. In confidence, they'll both swear for a moment they saw the untold truths of magic; the instant after Mandrake exploded into the loudest cry the Greengrass family had witnesses in generations.
Mandrake ended up doubling down on his lack of ways to express his rage and distress when the couple couldn't contain a cheer, only to stop once exhausted.
*
During the following days Mandrake was as originally planned moved back to the nursery where his de facto twin, Daphne Greengrass, was already resting. Trying to ask for something to read since he was already late on schedule was one of the first things he tried and a humiliating defeat. Apparently babies could not talk simply with grammar and vocabulary. Wanting practice, he began to train before experimenting first hand the stupidity of parents, adults and, to his great disappointment, house elves seemed plagued by when he did anything remotely anything. He was since silent in public and trained under the secrecy of the moon. Who wasn't so secret to the invisible house elves and by extension their masters. Everyone in the mansion knew that the previously mute heir had made a habit to babble all night long next to his sister.
It was of course a bit more purposeful and eloquent to Mandrake’s ears. However the closest to the thrust must have been Daphne. Little Daphne who spent her night listening to her insomniac of a brother rambling about any last things his mind found of interest half the time, telling odd convoluted stories the other half, had already taken the habit of rolling her eyes with annoyed fondness.
Be as it may Mandrake's stubbornness paid off as he spoke his first word as soon as physically possible. Amaryllis was reading the Daily prophet, elegantly sipping her tea, while Crocus was conversing with Tylli, his personal house elf, on changes in the nutriment for the soil of some of the varieties they received last week. Daphne and Mandrake were both sitting in a kind of magical baby park. They had both shown their first sign of accidental magic and were now more constantly under their parents' vigilance. Understandable when considering what happened.
Mandrake, having no patience and aiming to overachieve in all the toddler's disciplines, was fast to become a tiny terror. Finding the strength to crawl out of the crib, technically : to let oneself fall from said crib (he had heard of the protection in place for this kind of accident), did not take long. Going further took more time, someone always around to put him back in there. When the day a mistake was made came, Mandrake darted out of the room at maximum crawling speed and looked for the library. Daphne, who had observed and been quick to catch the trick, only three crawl behind.
Crocus was the first to find them. The home shook under the strained noise of an imminent fall as he stepped out of the floo. Panicked, the man had immediately apparated upstairs on the left of the manor's mezzanine only to see the open doors of the library open on the other side. There, a crossed Mandrake was glaring down one of the huge book cases, a little paw extended toward the top where a book was slightly dislodged. It took a second for the man to deduce what was happening. The book case didn't wait a second. He was too late to get his wand. Books rained like bombs.
Daphne's first bout of accidental magic was a magnificent shield.
Anyhow here they were in the park. Mandrake was utterly bored and Daphne hadn't been able to help on that front. The girl was more interested in a magical toy whose light would change color when magic was poured into it. Efficient and Educational. His mind for his part was taking a dark turn. Now that he had considerably advanced in baby skills he was less obsessed by growing up at all cost. On the contrary, worries about his situation and the war, whichever one of the three, had found their way back home. Growing up didn't look like the best plan anymore. As uneventful as his unusual babyhood was, it wasn't without perks. It was detached, like being on the shore. The world right in front of us, a world apart beyond the horizon.
*Peaceful poison* Though Mandrake, when he realized he had ended up so lost after his big shock he'd forgotten the subtlety of his predicament. Books would have to wait.
First he needed information. He hadn't really listened during those months, admittedly tuning in when necessary but not listening. Bringing order to the mess in his head had been the priority then. To be honest he wasn’t sure he had been there half the time. All he could remember were the elf schedule, some fascinating facts about plants or particularly pertinent and heated arguments between the couple. Of course nothing basic and useful like the date. Lot of politics. Remembered muggleborns situation being called good but only because Werewolf and company had the bad place taken... so, the last century if not centuries of wixen society...
Amaryllis Greengrass had finished her review of the Daily Prophet and was content to watch her wonderful children. Mandrake, the most unpredictable of the two, was for the moment spread on the floor expression stoned ready for an unknown terrible fate to be carved into it. Daphne and her sharp mind was giggling sweetly at her new use for her brother, bumping him with her toy which alternated between red and blue at each contact for her delight. Amaryllis noticed how even if her son was looking nothing more than trouble, her hand had twitched toward her wand. Fearing a reason to seize it. She also noticed the looks her husband sent toward their children. They were their pride and joy and oh so fragile.
That’s the thought the little form of Mandrake interrupted by swiftly righting itself, going white as a sheet for a second.
Before they had recovered from the surprise he frowned and spoke his first words to himself.
"Are the Potters dead yet?"
Silence.
Mandrake, not realizing he had not babbled, pursued his pondering. He grumbled something, his parents' shock going unnoticed, as he instead turned toward Daphne. She had stopped bumping instead, as she did when he would showcase something she hadn't mastered herself, observing him attentively. The boy shuddered under his sister's devouring interest. Paused. Looked at Daphne. Paused.
"I see. Course, course they are."
Only Tylli's swift intervention saved Lady Greengrass' tea cup.