D.G. Crew, Bird, Wand Shopping
*Sunday 4 August 1991*
Theodore Chesterfield sent the money and the letter of apology. His wife was returned to him unmolested. Her account of my boys being complete gentlemen for the probationary period gave me and my crew a reputation of honourable and reasonable rogues. We're still thugs, but we keep our word.
The entire mess started when one of my boys Bernard "Ben" Cain, took Theo's niece out to town. From what I heard, he was a decent guy throughout the evening. One of Theo's boys saw him leaving her apartment in the morning. Well afternoon, they had round 8,9 and 10 in the morning. Anyway, he tells Theo. Theo loses his shit, and goes after my boy, at his house, in my territory. They broke in and fucked him up.
His friends took care of him, and got him to the hospital. I used a bit of healing magic on the fractured bones. He's one of my crew, I take care of my own.
Being protective of your family, I can understand. Stepping on my turf, without a word, and messing up one of my boys, which leads to drops and deals being delayed, which leads to losses for my business in both money and reputation, un-fucking-cceptable.
I burnt his skank of a daughter alive and sent the body to his weekend poker game.
I don't do 'an eye for an eye' I simply burn your face.
The message was clear. Not only to little Theo, not little he's a fat bastard, but also to the other players in town. Central London is D.G. crew's. Do whatever you want in your own hoods, but in ours, smarten the fuck up.
Back to the wife. Bethany Chesterfield, was not happy. No parent wants to see one of their kids in that condition. No matter how problematic they were. The funeral and divorce were proceeding simultaneously. A closed casket is a subtle message for the uninitiated, but a clear one for the police. It's a sign that a gang is cleaning house or there is a gang war about to start. Depending on the body in the casket. The presence of bobbies around Hyde Park and Greenwich Park, gave pause to both sides. Theodore was delayed his revenge. I was delayed my money.
I wasn't stupid enough to think that Theo would let the matter drop. He'll do what most bitch niggas do, wait for the right moment. Nigga if you're calling yourself a don then act like one. I met all my promised shipments and drops. Delayed I may be, but I always deliver. Theo was holed up with his inner circle, planning shit. Like that's going to work. I already have his crew eating out of my hand. When all is said and done, there will be 17 new caskets. None of them will be taken up by people from my crew.
While all this was going on, Sirius was investigating a series of disappearances in Carkitt Market. The reported disappearances of half-bloods and first generation wizards who were returned a few days later with their memories overwritten.
My vampires were collecting samples.
I called off the operation and planned to send them to Hungary to begin operations there. It's more of a long term project. Either it doesn't work as intended, or it works as described in various books and I become a multi-millionaire overnight.
For now I must head back to Potter Manor. I started living in Potter Manor full time a year and a half ago. Before I would slit my time between Grimmauld Place and here. I would come over on weekends or for holidays. Now I am here permanently. Being Heir Potter is a pain in the ass, I could appoint a steward, but someone having control of even a knut or penny of my money makes me disgusted. It's my money, MINE!
Ahem, as I was saying, if you want something done right, Do it yourself.
*17:23*
I arrive to see my house elf Benny feeding Moros. Yes, that is what I named the little gremlin. Moros, the Greek Primordial deity of Doom. Our familiar bond let's us know what the other is thinking. I woke up to find the egg hatched and a chick the size of a goose sleeping in the incubator.
I had dreamed of a large, jet-black bird flying over a large open field through the starry night. My view kept shifting. Sometimes I was flying and looking at the carnage below. Other times, I was the one unleashing said carnage.
It continued to show corridors of a high end hotel building. A black SUV parked by a fire hydrant. A bunch of men with unusually large jackets walking around the perimeter. Some coming inside the building. A view of me getting into a firefight with poorly trained gangsters. By the looks of them and their shouting, Latino, the place looks like a tourist spot. Not one I recognize. Could be anywhere.
Such scenarios kept running through my mind as I slept. I remember them all as I attempted to name the, wrongly assumed, cute little bird. Boy, is he temperamental.
I went through a list of names from several books. He was more receptive to names that corresponded to darkness, terror and doom. Honestly, he's a teenage emo with a wild imagination. But he's adorable. *sigh*
Moros is currently still a chick. He's about dog sized right now. Imagine a Samoyed in bird form. Well a black temperamental Samoyed. That's the best description I've got right now. He's a chick but eats like a full grown horse. A pound of meat accompanied by fruits and vegetables as required. along with magic every night. The familiar bond let's us communicate. The little shit is smart enough to project images of meat and his favourite foods. He likes steaks, rare, with buttered carrots and jacketed potatoes. Sirius, I hate you. You had to bring your American 'friend' over.
The so called 'friend' looked like a walking disaster. I now know why storms are named after people. Amelia was not impressed at being introduced. Her name is Gabriella DuPont, and she is my Dark Arts instructor. She's a vampire, who through a set of rituals, removed her weakness to the sun, and attained the allure of a veela. The more I get to know her, the more she looks like my next mistake. She even managed to get on Amelia's good side. I went away to the Leaky Cauldron for 2 dayson Gringotts business. When I came back all three of them were chummy with each other. Sirius is currently insufferable. Thankfully they did not do anything in my house.
Moros adores her. I like her as well. As much as she looks like bimbo, she knows ways to make your life pure torture, without getting caught. She can cast a corporeal Patronus. Hers' is a peacock. I honestly expected a bat or something, but shows you never really can judge a book by it's cover.
Moros as observed will take a long time to mature. I have sent a Letter of Exception to Hogwarts to bring Moros along. I don't know what he truly is, but I can't leave him alone. I expect a reply in a few days time.
I walk over thank Benny and pet Moros' fuzzy little head. "Having fun?"
*cute chirping noises*
~As a matter of fact yes, yes I am.~
*sigh* I spoil him too much.
*Monday 5 August 1991*
My Hogwarts acceptance came on the first of August. Considering I had all the things on the list and then some, I only needed to go get a wand from Ollivander's.
This is the wand that will have a trace on it.
The other two are for practicing at home, and going to war. Because that's what's coming. Honestly I have practiced spells up to the fifth year. I am confident I can easily excel in Hogwarts. What concerns me is what they no longer teach in Hogwarts. Dark Arts, if taught properly can lead to a better understanding of magic. Not only that, the spell that are taught are not explored to their depths.
I made it a point to find ways to kill someone with every spell I learned. Gabriella is very impressed and surprised at my ruthlessness. Sirius, wants me to play more pranks with the spell I learned. At least I've weaned him off of Dumbledore's teat.
Castle Black is functional again, after 15 years. After the death of Arcturus Black, Sirius took over. He moved everything to Castle Black in would you believe it Blackpool. Grimmauld place was only a façade. For the true legacy of house black is in Castle Black. All non-Blacks were kept at arms distance from the true Lord Blacks. Walburga was Black and she knew the truth. Since she sold her daughters like common whores to other dark families, She was Barred from castle Black.
How do I know this?
Sirius in his infinite wisdom, has invited me to Castle Black on several occasions. That is where Gabriella and her spawn Jasmine currently reside. Jasmine is still to come to terms with being a hybrid vampire and her immortality. And Gabriella is too occupied with teaching me and learning more dark magic from the Black Libraries. Jasmine was converted in 1876, Aminabad Iran. Now that she is older than 100 years old, still looking 22, and the changes in standards of living she has borne witness to is mind boggling. Now imagine you were cut off from the normal world for 60 years. She's having a bit of a culture shock.
Moving on, today Sirius has some business in the Magical District. I'm tagging along to get my wand.
I honestly don't know what to expect. Buying from the SHOP was just a simple transaction. The wand I got from Gergorovitch, it was an entire process. Ollivander simply gives you a premade wand. It sounds like the man is lazy, but he's constantly making wands. he has hundreds of wands in storage. Some from centuries ago. Experiments that simply will not function in the hands of an eleven year old.
After brunch, yes brunch, on a Monday, I'm rich go away. Sirius and I head off to Diagon Alley. Sirius drops me off at Ollivanders. He heads off to take care of business. We'll meet at the Gold Cloak. A pub on Vertic Alley.
Vertic Alley is essentially a Gentleman's Club taken to the extreme. All your desires and vices are catered to. The vices are kept quiet by the staff at the respective establishment. But even without blood-letting for vampires or such other fetishes, the area is like every royal palace lined up next to each other. The Gold Cloak is Sirius' favourite spot. That's where he and my father would go. I like the fried chicken and dark ale. Sirius couldn't give a shit about me drinking. Not that he realizes letting children drink is frowned upon, and illegal in the muggle world. Best dogfather ever.
Now the only thing to due is pretend to become a good little lamb and be led to the slaughter.
My magic training was very diverse. Practising spells in Potter Manor was not an issue. Practicing the Dark Arts however led to the wards going haywire. The fact that no dark magic has been cast within the confines of the wards simply means they saw my initial lessons as a threat. Me practising in private led to the wards recognising my signature when using dark magic. Yes, there is a difference. Slight or contrasting depends on the witch or wizard but there is a difference.
I also practices all the cleaning and repair spells the elves use. House elves use magic instinctually. Will and Intent. Those three words have never been truer. A snap of your fingers and your bed is made. A wave of your hand and the room is dusted. So convenient.
I went into Ollivander's looking to get this shit over with. Now I'm not arrogant to think that just because I have access to more resources and a liberal guardian that I am hot shit. I know I can get clapped by even an amateur duelist if I let my guard down or get careless. Constantly losing to Gabriella, Jasmine, Sirius and Moody has kept me pretty grounded. The magical world is vast and I only know a small piece of it.
I walked into the shop, seeing no one at either the register or the waiting area I rang the bell on the counter.
"Good Morning young sir!" A voice greets me from my 5 o'clock. I am tempted to draw and just shoot the owner of said voice, but I remember Sirius telling me about Ollivander being weird. So I acquiesce by simply putting my hands in my cloak and equipping a Welrod Mk.2.
"Morning, Mr. Ollivander I assume?" I ask.
'A rather cold young man.'
"Yes, that would be me." He states.
I present my Hogwarts letter, "I need a wand."
Useless shenanigans and 2 hours later a holly and phoenix feather wand was in my hands. It felt even worse than the one Gregorovitch custom made for me. Like what in the actual fuck! How is this the best you have? And why is the selection criteria only that Voldemort's wand gave me my now almost faded scar?
This smells like a setup. I will have to go along with it until Dumbledore dies. Then I can start raining down hellfire. I hate this.