Reincarnation is a bitch. Or at least, it is in my limited experience.

I found myself in a baby's body, half-blind, barely able to move, my lungs ripping out in a scream, my skin raw and cold. My last memory was a gunshot. No dignified truck-kun exit for me. Just walking through a mall and suddenly I was exiting a womb, an experience I do not recommend remembering.

It took time for me to rebuild my mind. Months. I had the mind of a grown man, pushing through the synapses of a newborn. My first moments were trying to move. Then I had to get over the undignified act of breastfeeding from a woman I didn't know, which couldn't have been weird.

Mom and Dad. They were nothing like my last set. Arabian still, but from Egypt rather than Morocco. And they were British. Which made sense. Because everyone around me was.

It was a travesty. A red-blooded American, born in London and living in Surrey. Newborns, as it turns out, have the brain capacity for annoyance. Or at least, I did.

Months, a full couple of years really, of rebuilding myself, mind and body. You never think about how hard the simple act of movement is for babies. Getting from lying on my back to crawling around took four months. And it was boring.

Also, apparently my name was Gareth Ahmed this time. Gareth. Wow. What a name.

My mom and dad were sweethearts, always keeping an eye on me, teaching me what they could. I tried my best to work with them, laughing the way a baby should at certain things. I did throw in some annoying bits. It sucked, waking them up at night. But I didn't know what else I could do?

I wasn't exactly Anos Voldigoad, born talking like a grown ass man. I had to exercise my throat, stretch out my vocals and practice them. So I couldn't explain, 'hey, mom and dad, this ain't my first go around on the Earth and I really don't consider you my mom and dad.'

I felt like an asshole for feeling that way. But they were more akin to a pair of very nice people I liked. I couldn't mentally just replace them with my own parents. I didn't even try. It was just so weird and it made me feel guilty as sin.

Why had it happened? Why did I just get brain shuffled into this body? What was the reason? I should have been in the afterlife, or just gone in a black void. Getting all the great answers.

Instead I was trying to convince my body that solid food was good. I was so goddamn tired of baby food…

I enjoyed having brand new eyes and an unscarred body of course. Everything was so clear, and I had none of the aches and pains that grow in you as you become an adult.

Years passed. Plus side of being an adult in a child's body, you can funnel your eternal energy into full on projects. I slept, ate, and worked out. Well, close to it as I could. At first it was just me trying to stop feeling like I was useless. But by the time I turned four I was exercising as much as I could. I was speaking around 9 months and graduated to actual sentences by fourteen, though I held back as much as possible.

It was impossible to be entirely normal though. My parents noticed that I wasn't a normal newborn quick. I was too focused. I was too quick on the uptake, and I didn't freak out the way little kids often did.

When I was four, they sent me to a therapist. Or as they said, 'a very nice man who wants to talk to you!'

Like I said. Sweethearts. My mom was pregnant at the time. In my last life, I'd had five siblings by the time I was a teen. I wondered if that was going to be replicated here.

I spoke to the therapist for around an hour. When we left, he officially called me a sociopath. I called him a quack and told my parents I wasn't going to deal with someone like that again if I could help it.

Still, after that they seemed to treat me differently. I didn't mind it. I was a better kid to them than I had been to my real parents, I'm sad to say. Cleaned up after myself, ate my food, and eventually watched out for my baby brother, Ali. Funny, I had a cousin with the same name in my last life.

Still, you can't live as an adult in a child's body without other kids noticing how weird you are. The kid who spends time reading, working out, and acts like an old man rather than getting pulled into classroom politics gets noticed.

And don't tell me it isn't politics. Kids may be rudimentary at it, but they're as cutthroat as any real life Senator. Or a House of Lord guy? Whatever the British version was, I didn't care.

Anyways, after my new body turned 6 and I was in my second year of school was when I got into my first fight in school. Some kid pushing his weight around. I tossed him on his back and held him down until the teacher separated us. Nothing serious. I wasn't about to really fight a kid.

He came back with some more subtle bullying. Or subtle in his mind. Racism mostly. I let it go up until he insulted my fake mom.

I held him an arm bar after school and walked him through why it was wrong to treat others the way he had.

Kid backed off, and I gained a reputation for being a delinquent. Never mind the facts, I'd threatened to break someone's arm for being disrespectful. Ha! Kids are cute.

Of course, my somewhat peaceful life ended at 9 years old when I eventually got transferred to a new school. St. Grogory's Primary School. If you recognize the name, good on you, because I didn't.

I was reborn in 1980. The only reason that mattered to me was that I was making plans to invest in various companies down the road. I didn't consider that an important year.

So when I entered St. Grogory's and stood in a classroom as my teacher introduced me to my class, that was the first time the pieces came together. Because of a single kid in the back of the class.

He was skinny as hell, painfully so, and practically swimming in clothing too big for him. His glasses were large and round, on top of a pair of extremely green eyes. And under his bowl cut hair, I could barely see a lightning bolt shaped scar.

I kept control of my face despite the emotions broiling in me. But when the teacher told me to take a seat, I moved into one of the empty seats next to the kid. Next to Harry Potter.

I wasn't reincarnated, I was isekai'd. Into one of the most common ones to get isekai'd into. Goddamnit. I needed to get a gun asap.

As the teacher began to drone on and Harry Potter kept his head down, I bemoaned my fate silently next to him.

Nine years of work, and none of it was enough. Harry Potter (the universe, not the kid) wasn't a death world or anything, but it was certainly way too dangerous for a kid. I'd been working out and learning as much as I could, and I was certainly stronger and smarter than any kid my age should have been. My parents hadn't been able to afford martial arts lessons, but I'd practiced on my own as best as I could.

None of it mattered. A 9 year old can't punch faster than a wand can unleash magic.

Maybe I should have been more freaked out at the prospect of being in a fictional world? Then again, I'd been in a weird situation for a while anyways. Plus, I probably had nothing to worry about. It was likely that I didn't have any magic. I'd never shown any signs of accidental magic.

Never turned a jumper into a tent, changed a teacher's hair color, or summoned a steamroller.

God, of all universes, why Harry Potter? Magic made no sense in this universe. The forces of the universe beholden to the wave of a magical wand made sense. But why did you have to be so specific with the words and movement? Did magic just have a bunch of locks that wizards figured out through trial and error how to open?

Give the Last Airbender or Fullmetal Alchemist. Way doper, with more understandable magical systems.

And I really hoped I didn't have magic. Part of my plan depended on taking the internet by storm. Having that ruined by magic's inability to work with tech would suck. Or was that just the other Harry wizard?

I was so in my own head that it wasn't until the bell rang for lunch that I remembered one of the other people involved in all of this. Harry Potter flinched at the sound of the bell. He looked terrified. Before anyone else could move, the kid had packed his bag and ran for the door. I put my own stuff away more sedately.

Harry had a hell of a life before him. By the time he turned what, thirteen? He'd face more life or death situations than some police officers and firefighters would in their whole existence. The fact he'd grown up to be a well adjusted adult was more unrealistic than the dragons and centaurs.

Did that matter to me though? I knew he'd be okay. He'd be great even, get married to Ginny, have a bunch of kids, do… something that happened in that play I'd never seen, and stay friends with Ron and Hermione for the rest of his life.

Better to worry about myself. I had a second chance at life, I needed to take it. Keep my body healthy, keep learning as much as possible, make tons of cash. It was a simple plan, and one the magical world need not intrude in.

Some folk would die. Fred, Dobby, Dumbledore… goddamnit, what was I supposed to do about those? What could I do damnit?

That thought haunted me. I'd have to be crazy not to feel guilt for possibly being able to stop those deaths and not doing anything. But fuckin…

I used to be a really cheery dude. Months of shitting myself involuntarily, being treated like a dumb invalid for years, followed by being looked at like a freak for being an adult in a kids body had really turned me into a grumpy asshole.

The question of what the fuck I was supposed to do with my new realization of reality was interrupted by the sight of a small whale in school clothes huffing and puffing as it passed. I stared at it, ignoring the skinny kids following it, before I realized what I was looking at.

Good god. Dudley Dursley was going to have a heart attack before he turned 10. The kid looked like he would roll if I pushed him over. Folds of fat under his clothes, beady eyes set in a face like an obese Cabbage Patch Kids, and a flop of blonde hair.

Then his grin registered. No one that young should have looked that sadistic. I followed him and his cronies, calmly pulling an apple from my backpack and chowing on it as I did.

The group of four ran across the courtyard, looking around. I noticed other kids moving away from them. Well well, look who had gained a rep for being dangerous. That was adorable. Every kid in the group was about as tough as a… well, a nine year old.

I kept my distance, watching them rush around with a purpose. I saw him before they did. Harry was running from one hall to another, spinning the corner. Hm…

The smart thing to do was to ignore it. To let the universe take it's course. Harry would be fine. Dudley would grow out of this idiocy. They were kids. Kids were assholes. I had no idea what my interference would bring.

"He's over there!"

"Get that little freak!"

I'm an idiot.

I took a different hallway, jogging lightly. Soon I intercepted the path Harry had taken, and waited, chewing on my apple all the while, thinking carefully.

Harry spun the corner. He saw me waiting. His eyes widened in fear. I rolled my eyes, waving at him.

"Come on kid, they're catching up."

My calm voice echoed. Some other students saw me call out to him and gave me looks like I was crazy. I ignored them to focus on the tiny glasses wearing future badass approaching me. He ran past me, never looking back. Man. Can't blame him, but damn dude.

A kid with a long nose and buck teeth came around the corner chasing after Harry. He didn't notice me.

Made hitting him in the face with an apple core easier.

"Gah!" he stumbled, sputtering. I adjusted my backpack and waited.

Another kid, then one more, came around the corner, followed by a whale in human clothing.

"What did you do that for!?" the rat faced kid shouted at me. His friends pulled up behind him, looking at him, then at me in instinctual need to back up their homey.

"Oh, my bad. I was throwing away trash, so I aimed at trash. As you do."

"...what?" the kid blinked.

Damnit, kids have no appreciation for my jokes.

"Don't worry about it. So. Looks like you guys are chasing after someone. Kinda shitty, don't you think?"

"You're defending that freak!?" Dudley stepped forward, using his mass to brush aside the others. "And why are you talking like that, are you a yank?"

"Which question do you want me to answer first?"

"What?"

"Am I defending the kid, why am I talking like this, and am I a yank. Which question do you want me to answer first?"

All four kids stared. The tall one in the back drooled a little.

"Not the smartest bunc-"

"Get him!"

Incapable of understanding what was happening, they defaulted to their usual methods. The rat-faced kid rushed forward, his fists swinging. The other kids followed.

My textbook filled backpack smashed into the rat kid's stomach, followed by my palm striking into his nose. I internally winced at the feel of blood exploding under my palm as he screamed. Beating up little kids sucked. Even when you are one too, it sucked.

When a tall kid approached, I grabbed his clumsy punching wrist and pulled him into an elbow strike in the chest. Pulling him in also brought him in front of a clumsy kick from his friend, sending him to the ground, where I kicked him in the stomach again.

The kid who kicked his friend tried to kick again. I grabbed his foot and held it, forcing him to balance with wide panicked eyes. Dudley, approaching from behind, stopped for a sec, trying to move around his friend. I pulled the kid in and grabbed his face in one small hand while kicking his other leg from under him, smashing him into the ground and leaving me with Dudley.

Who was going to be a problem. Dudley was bigger than me. Fat may not be as useful as muscle in a fight, but it's still a defense for a kid. Hard to punch someone in the stomach when that stomach is covered in a layer of soft armor.

Dudley faced me for a moment, his hands down but eyes hard. "You shouldn't have done that, yank."

"You gonna talk, marshmallow boy, or fight," I quipped calmly. "I'm honestly worried if I cut you bacon fat and butter will come out. Your belly button makes an echo. If you were a truck, you'd have a wide load sign. You-"

"Ahhhhh!" with a cute child roar, the fat boy rushed me, leaving me unable to finish my Spider-Man routine. I thought, for a moment, about kicking him in the dick.

It was the smart move. Just take him out fast. It was mean, but my other options were harder to implement. But…

He was just a kid. Better for normal violence.

I palm struck him in the face while dodging him, tripped him as he passed, then landed on his back. Dudley screamed when I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him, forcing him to the ground. I watched Piers cry on the ground. The kid I'd kicked in the stomach was groaning next to the one I'd smashed into the floor.

"Get off of me you- AHHH!" Dudley shouted again when I twisted a bit harder.

A sigh left my lips. "Kid, you really gotta find a more constructive way to release these aggressive emotions. Play video games maybe, exercise that doughy fat ass."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

I looked up. An adult woman was staring at us, horrified. Harry stood behind her, his eyes wide as he watched his tormentors cry. My shrug didn't help the woman's horror.

"Involving myself in the main plot, apparently."

I wish I was smarter, because I could tell I was going to get in a lot of trouble from then on.

"Never have we seen such violence in St. Grogory's," Headmistress Roemmele said to my dad, her eyes wide. "Poor Mr. Polkiss has a broken nose, Dennis is still crying, and Dudley claims his arm was broken!"

"Claims, not actually broken," I pointed out. My dad sighed, rubbing at his mustache as Roemmele stared at me in horror. "And I told you. Piers attacked me."

"All four boys say you instigated it!" Roemmele shouted.

"I didn't. It's my first day in this school. I was just trying to find my way around. They attacked me, I defended myself."

"You really expect me to believe-"

"He does," my dad stepped in, leaning forward. "Ms. Roemmele, I understand my son was more violent than you may be used to, but there were four boys fighting him. Are you saying that he found a group of four boys he didn't know and attacked them for no reason?"

She hesitated. My dad continued. "We can apologize to the parents if you wish, but it's his word against theirs. Headmistress, you have to see how this looks."

The Headmistress was beginning to look a little harried. Her eyes snapped to me. I nodded slowly.

"I'll apologize, and I promise that I won't ever fight in this school. Unless I get attacked. If someone tries to hit me and I can't get to a teacher safely, I'm allowed to defend myself, right?"

She looked even more harried at that, rubbing her face. "Is this just how children raised in America act?"

"He's never been to America," my dad said, his face pained.

She blinked at him, stared at me, then looked back at him. Then why-

"I like American movies," I lied. My dad rubbed at his mustache again.

"Gar, I wish you had waited a day before getting in trouble again," my dad said as we entered his car.

"Believe me, I wish I'd avoided it, pops," I sighed. "Those kids were trying to bully another one. Probably should have let them, but my dumb brain couldn't just let that go."

He sighed. "Gar, when you say things like that you worry me."

"...Sorry."

"I'm used to it."

I winced. Yeah. At some point, I'm pretty sure my new mom and dad realized I didn't love them as parents. Liked them. Listened to them. Hell, I actually did grow to love them. But I didn't have anymore than a friendly kind of love for them. I considered them found family. Still love, but different enough that there was friction there.

"I'll apologize. Can't promise it'll be sincere, but I'll say the words."

"That's fine," he said in the voice of the long suffering.

Suck it up, pops, other people had it way harder. The uncharitable thought lasted for barely a second before I smothered it.

Instead I focused on something else. Namely, what I had to prepare for.

I didn't have magic, so no Hogwarts for me. I did, however, live in a world of magic. That meant all its dangers existed. Dragons, dark wizards, werewolves, giant spiders, rugs that could eat you. Hell, if someone found out I knew about magic, the 'good' wizards would mind rape memories of the wizarding world from my brain. What fucking fun.

Gun. A gun would be good. Wizards are very powerful, but a bullet is a good equalizer for most things. Despite what some Potterheads would tell ya, 'muggles' had some ways to even the odds with the various powers of magic. Voldemort would still need a whole army, but the average things you'd run into weren't immune to small bits of metal at high speed.

Maybe I could mix it with magic as well. Guns with bottomless magazines filled with bullets that could unleash a variety of effects on impact. Armor enhanced with spells. So on and so forth.

My paranoia was going full on at the point we got to the house. I was thinking about the dozens of things that could end up killing me. Fantastic Beasts and how they can absolutely fuck you up. Harry Potter and Holy Shit That's A Lot of Teeth.

At home, once dad parked, I wasn't really focused. My mind was still racing. I needed to go into my room, to write down a plan, to figure shit out.

I slammed the door open and stepped out without looking.

"Gar!" my dad shouted in horror.

My eyes snapped up.

The van was big. White. And moving very fast. I raised my hands up. My earlier paranoia and fear crystalized into a single moment as I realized what was coming.

I fell onto my bed.

"Guh!" My blankets wrapped around me, smothering me. I shouted when I landed on the floor, my heart thumping in my chest. "Holy shit. Holy shit! Holy shit!"

My dad screamed outside. I finally untangled myself and ran to the window, pushing it up after fumbling with the lock. "Pops!"

"Gareth!?" he looked around from the van he'd been crouched down near, his head scanning under it. When he saw me in the window, he looked like he was ready to collapse with relief. The van driver looked almost as relieved. "What happened!? How did you get up there?"

"...I had to use the bathroom really badly. Can you get my bag?"

While he tried to comprehend that, I felt my heart continue to beat like a drum.

Apparition. Magic. Accidental magic.

This was both better and worse than my previous situation.

Later that day, I had a guess as to what happened. Namely, since coming to this world, I hadn't truly panicked or lost myself in my emotions. Kids were able to feel so much more strongly than adults. Anger, sadness, happiness, they all exploded within them.

Dropping ice cream was the end of the world. Getting a new toy changed the world. Your crush not liking you back was the ultimate heartbreak.

And magic responded to strong emotions. The stronger, the better. Accidental magic was just when enough of that emotion fed a kids power to allow them to make physics their bitch.

Except, I never had that. I was a grown man, with a grown man's perspective. I didn't lose control of my emotions, not to the extent a kid did. I sucked it up when I had to do things I didn't want, when the world didn't bend to my whim.

Until the day I was panicking from realizing what world I was in. Add in a van of coincidence, and boom. Magic.

I had magic.

What the hell did that mean? Did I always have it and not notice? I'd noticed I had a lot of energy, but how much of that was me noticing from being an adult in a kids body, and how much was me feeling magic inside me?

Did magic in this universe even work that way? As far as I remembered, Harry Potter magic was… lax.

Not that it didn't have rules. Just that those rules didn't make logical sense. On the scale of soft to hard, this universe was silk wrapped around steel. There were hard rules, but they were weird.

Teleporting wizards that had mail delivered by the slowest bird in nature. Owls were cool, but they weren't messenger birds. And even if they were enhanced by magic, just teleport instead!?

Fuck it, there were entire years of material dedicating to tearing apart this universes logic back in my old life. In this life, it was what it was, I had to deal.

I had, what, two years? I was turning ten soon, Harry left for Hogwarts at eleven. Presumably since I lived in England so would I.

Better to go. I knew the layout of Hogwarts, mostly, they'd teach me magic, and I knew to avoid the death traps. Also, what the fuck wizarding world, why do you have literal death traps in your schools?

Point was, magic was a tool. An insanely powerful one. I could incorporate it into my plans. Keep my body healthy, make my family and me wealthy, get married, pioneer VR technology. Now I could include 'master magic and use it to enhance technology.'

But I had to stay alive and successful. Preferably without getting pulled into Voldermort's anti-Potter tour. Then again. I was muggleborn. Mudbloods (I can say that now, it's our word) got attacked like crazy throughout the series starting from the second year and getting insane in the seventh year once Voldy and his insecure squad got revved up.

Yippy, I was born with a target on my back. Not something I was unfamiliar with, but still not great.

Anyways, magic. If I had it my way, there were other schools of magic I'd rather have learned, simply because I knew more about them. Like the magic Sypha in the Castlevania anime displayed. That magic was DOPE.

Or I'd be an Earthbender, like Toph and Bolin.

Harry Potter magic was phenomenally powerful, but I needed a wand to start getting a hold of how to control it. Maybe one day I'd be able to pull a Dumbledore/Voldemort and start unleashing wandless spells, but I doubted that would be an option.

I wished I had access to the Weasleys. Fred, George, and Arthur all had been able to create AMAZING tools of magic and Arthur had combined muggle and wizard shit to make a damn impressive car. If I could talk to them, I'd be on my way to my dream of becoming magical Batman.

I was so focused on what I'd learned, that I forgot about the trouble I'd already gotten in.

At school the next day, in the headmistresses office, I faced Dudley, Piers, nameless, and nameless. I had not bothered to learn the last two. Behind them stood their parents.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley didn't look exactly like their actors. Dudley and Harry hadn't either. So books, not movies. Vernon was still a massive red-faced man who was glaring at me like he wanted to light me on fire with his looks alone. Petunia was thin as a rail and had a very long neck, with a similar anger in her eyes. And yet, neither was a monster.

You wouldn't think they were anything but normal, rather than abusive.

"So he has agreed to apologize," Headmistress Roemmele said, looking around her office at everyone. My dad was sat next to me, a stern look on his face. "And has promised to mind his manners from now on."

"Apologize!?" Vernon thundered, glaring at me even harder. "Have you seen what he's done to our children!?"

Piers whined around a broken nose. Nameless kid one and two had similar looks of pain.

Dudley had a cast around his arm, neck, and leg. I had not touched his neck and leg. Milking it for all your worth, eh Duddiekins? …Duddliekins? Dudkins? Damnit, what was the nickname Harry teased him with?

"I completely understand where you are coming from," Roemmele said with a bit of a harried look on her face as Vernon spun to eye her down. "But understand, Gareth was outnumbered and likely scared. This is all just boys being boys, surely we can-"

"BOYS BEING BOYS!?" Vernon roared again.

"Yes, it was," I spoke up. Vernon spun on me. "Just a small fight and I promise it won't happen again. I don't fight anyone if I or those I care for aren't threatened."

The way I talked seemed to unnerve him. And I don't think it was my American accent. He spun on my dad. "I should sue your family for this. Your son tried to kill mine!"

My dad blinked. Then he leaned back. "...Okay. Go ahead."

Vernon stopped. Roemelle looked between my dad and him, horror in her eyes. Vernon finally spoke. "What?"

"If you would like to sue my family, that is up to you. But it wouldn't go well," my dad leaned forward. "My son was, as Roemelle said, outnumbered. Some students clearly say that that one," he pointed at Piers. "Attacked him first. My son defended himself. But beyond that. Sue for what? Children scrapping in the schoolyard?" I hated doing this to my dad, making him face this shit.

He'd taken away any allowance for the next year because of it, but I still was going to pay him back. My dad continued.

"As of now, this is just children fighting. It's not right, and my son is being disciplined," my dad's eyes narrowed. "But if you attempt to escalate this to an unreasonable degree, know that I will defend my family."

Vernon glowered. My dad was unmoving. "Do you know who you are talking to?"

Pops shrugged. "A father, like myself. As I said. My son will apologize. And I'm sure all of our children have learned to avoid violence in discussions, mate. Beyond that, it's up to you what happens next."

"...You better keep that boy away from my Dudley," Vernon snarled, clearly trying to get one over on my dad.

"I'm sure we can keep things civil. Now. Gareth."

I nodded, putting on my best contrite look. I looked Dudley, Piers, and nameless 1 and 2 in the eyes. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for fighting you. I promise I won't ever start a fight with you."

Dudley gave me a gleeful smile. He didn't seem to register one of the words. Start.

He may have been nine, but I wasn't going to let him bully me. Pathetic or not, you can't let people try to push you around at any point in your life.

Still, I had better things to worry about than a petty child who would one day grow into an okay adult.

In class, I sat down next to Harry. He was staring at me as the rest of the students filed in. I looked over at him.

"You all right?"

He blinked, looking confused. "Me? Yeah. How about you?"

"What, you thought your cousin was coming after me?"

"You knew he was my cousin."

"Family resemblance."

The look of horrified disgust on his face was adorably hilarious. "No, I heard it around school after. How often do those brats chase after you?"

Harry was looking at me like he was trying to figure out what my game was. Couldn't blame him. "All the time."

"Hn," damnit, was I really going to do this? …Yeah. Yeah. "Okay, then you're hanging with me from now on."

"Why should I?" he said with all the skepticism in his tiny heart. "I don't even know you? If you want me to pay you, you'll have to wait for a long time for the money."

Ha! Book Harry, right. Pretty caustic for a kid. I liked him.

"Tell you what, you ever get a vault of gold, consider sharing a portion and we'll call it even," I was joking by the way. "And I just don't like bullies. I'm Gareth. Call me Gar."

I held out my hand. Harry stared at it like it was going to bite him. Then he nodded, grabbing it and shaking it hard. "Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you kid."

"Kid? We're the same age mate."

I scoffed. "Barely. Anyways, you want to learn how to fight so those kids can't mess with you as easily."

His eyes widened, glimmering. For a moment, I could see the rage in him. The dark emotions brimming beneath.

Oh yeah. I was going to like this kid.

The next couple of years were both boring and interesting. So you know, like any other time in life.

My life revolved around my preparation. I hunted down books on magic, on science, reached out to as many people as I thought would talk to me about legends and stories. The magical world had worked their asses off to sanitize the non-magical world of any true knowledge of magic, but they couldn't completely stop the flow of information.

My knowledge was very basic. It had been decades since I'd been a little kid reading Order of the Phoenix in a single day. ANything I learned was circumspect at best.

I did have advantages. I knew that Snape had come into school knowing magical spells most didn't. Sirius said he knew more spells than most kids in their final year, or something to that effect. So I could practice on my own.

And I did practice. I tried to game the system a bit. Kamehameha got me nothing. Same with trying to use sigils to make materials move according to my whim. (Then again, who remembers the Full Metal Alchemist symbols from memory?) Pulling a Sypha did not let me use lightning, fire, ice, and wind. Same with the Avatar stuff, no Earthbending for me.

One time I shouted 'Expeliremus', but I think I butchered the pronunciation. Or I needed a wand.

Still, I got some results. One time, when my brother Ali was toddling along and almost tripped over to slam his face in the concrete, I instinctively reached out. He did a gentle twirl through the air and landed softly on his butt. Kid laughed with glee and ran off, while my mom and dad stared at him like they'd seen a miracle.

Another time, Harry and I were sparring, and he ended up giving me a hell of a black eye. Kid was fast man. He'd apologized like crazy, and I didn't mind it too much. Still, I had been extremely worried about what my parents would think when they would see it the next morning. They knew I sparred. If they found out, they'd try to stop me. I went to bed with that black eye.

The next day, not a single mark rested on my face.

Couldn't do that shit on purpose though. Regular wounds healed normally, telekinesis escaped me, and teleporting… I didn't even try that actually. Last thing I wanted was to lose my heart in one place and my spleen in another.

Still, there was progress. I got stronger, physically. Learned a lot about technology, how to do things like repair car engines. Didn't get access to a gun, but I made sure to learn about them, and got my hands on a solid knife to keep on me when I wasn't in school.

And Harry and I stayed close. Despite Dudley's best attempts.

A bit before my 11th birthday, before the school year was gonna be over, Harry was chowing down on half my lunch. I made sure to pack enough for three people, and Harry would chow down on my food with me throughout the day. A constant combination of good food and exercise over two years had made him much more healthy looking than the skinny kid I'd once known. He was still thin, and likely always would be, but it was a wiry strength now.

"I gotta say kid, you've ruined my reputation in this school," I joked at Harry as he scarfed down on grapes. I was writing in a notebook, marking down my recent workout progress. "Nobody will let me join the sports teams anymore."

Harry scoffed, wiping at his face. "Gar, you didn't need me to ruin your rep. You keep fighting people. They don't want the delinquent on their team."

"Delinquent. But I'm such a sweet kid," I put my notebook down and looked over the courtyard. A group of girls was staring at Harry, unbeknownst to him. When they saw me noticing they grinned, while I shrugged. The kid was an early heartbreaker and he didn't even know it.

Harry gave me a grin. "You should say that when you stop scaring kids. You know people think you're in a gang?"

"I wish. Then maybe I could finally get a goddamned gun."

"See, that's why people think you're in a gang."

Kids man. I sighed. "Harry, I don't go looking for fights man. You tell your cousin to stop going after me?"

"He doesn't listen. And Uncle Vernon told him he needs to man up."

I scoffed. "He's not messing with you at home anymore at least, right?"

He didn't say anything. I wanted to throw something.

Harry didn't get pushed around at school anymore. If I wasn't around, he knew how to throw punches and grapple now, his fundamentals growing the longer we trained together. But there wasn't anything we could do about home. Vernon and Petunia didn't beat him, but they made their displeasure known in other ways.

The first time I loaned him clothes, they'd thrown it out. I gave him a book and they ripped it in half. Nowadays the backpack I carried was full of stuff for Harry. Food, books, a few manuals on martial arts that I constantly edited, music. I'd gotten him hooked on hip hop. Woo Tang Clan had yet to teach anyone they were nothing to fuck with, but there was still great music.

All of which we had to keep secret from dickish relatives.

The Dursleys were determined to punish Harry for simply being born. They may not have beaten him, but they ran right up to the edge of abuse. They were planning to take him out of this school too. I was here, I was his friend, he was happy with me, and thus I had to be removed from his life.

Fuck the Dursleys.

And the worst thing was, he had to stay there. That damn blood protection. In the choice between relatives who ignored and barely cared for him, and dying by Dark Eater, I knew staying with Petunia was better. Still, the few times Dudley's loving parents saw me, we'd made clear that none of us liked each other.

They considered me a demon child. I considered them idiots.

At least Harry ignored them telling him not to hang out with me. Harry may have joked that I was a delinquent, but the kid had a rebellious streak.

"You're thinking too hard," Harry said.

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You do that a lot, just go into your head," Harry glanced up. His eyes hardened. "They're coming."

I looked up as well. Five kids, two of them very familiar. I grinned. "Oh hey, Dudders! How are you and your gang doing, still recovering from your last beating?"

The whale of a child glared at me. He hadn't changed much. Still fat, still spoiled, still very mad at me. "Shut up, Gyppo. I came to talk to my cousin."

Gyppo. Because my current body was Egyptian. A charming insult he'd recently begun slinging.

"Ahhh, Dudders, can't we talk like old friends? How about you, Piers, you doing all right?"

"I'm okay," the skinny kid said amiably. Dudley elbowed him. "U-Uh, shut up Gyppo!"

Yeah, Dudley was pretty much the only one really invested in this.

"My mom said you can't hang out with the Gyppo!" Dudley looked as though he thought he'd said something extremely devastating. He seemed so proud.

Harry leaned forward, grabbed a small snack bar out of my bag, and opened it. "...Good for Aunt Petunia."

Dudley's face fell. "So you have to go away from him!"

"I'm not going to."

"YOU HAVE TOO!" he slammed his foot, and I swore the earth shook.

Harry took a bite out of his snack bar, but otherwise just smirked.

"I'm going to tell her you didn't listen!"

"Oh no, what a shame. Maybe she'll stop loving me."

I winced. He said it jokingly, but it hurt to hear. Goddamnit Petunia. He's your nephew. Your sister was murdered, why couldn't you do the simple work of just taking care of family?

While I was having another crisis over his shitty homelife, Harry watched Dudley take a step forward, his fist raised. Harry didn't flinch.

"...This is all your fault!" Dudley shouted at me. "You ruined everything!"

Okay, I was done. I knew what Dudley really wanted. I reached into my bag and pulled out something that I showed to him.

"Huh?" Dudley stared at the object in my hand. A package of Oreos. He started salivating.

"Go away, you get the cookies."

"Deal!"

I tossed the package to him. The fat and sadly dumb child immediately turned away with a grin on his face, moving off with his friends, the five boys looking as though they'd won a championship.

"You know that's the only reason he tries now," Harry said with a sigh.

"I know. But at least we don't waste time this way," I looked down at him. "I wish I could have you over at my place for the summer, man."

That was the elephant in the room we'd been avoiding. Harry sighed, rubbing at his lightning scar. "Me too. Uncle Vernon won't let me though. Says you're a bad influence."

"I am, but who gives a shit?"

Harry grinned, though it was brief. "I'll be okay. Maybe we can meet in the park?"

"No maybe's. We WILL meet up," I sighed, looking up at the sky. "Keep up the exercises in the meantime."

"I will!" He gave me a rambunctious smile, and I was reminded once again that he was a little kid. One that would run into hell at points.

Fuck you, Voldemort. Fuck you.

School year was over July 21st. Summer began. The summer of 1991 to be exact. My birthday was July 23rd.

So I wasn't surprised when a letter came to my house on July 22nd.

"Gar?" My dad said, coming up to my room. He looked around briefly. My room had all the markings of hard work if you ask me. Dumbbells in the corner, bookshelves along the walls, a workbench full of manufacturing tools I'd saved and scraped together. Only thing missing was computer, because I couldn't be reborn into a civilized age.

I was sitting crosslegged on a simple mat, waiting for my dad. He blinked down at me.

"A letter came for you," he looked positively befuddled. "It uh… knew you were going to be sitting on the floor?"

How the fuck- magic, right. Don't need to explain shit.

I held out my hand, trying to be cool rather than excited. My dad passed me the letter. Yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green. Mr. G. Ahmed, the Floor,- You get the gist. And a symbol with four animals resting on it. A beaver, snake, lion, and raven. Dope.

Look, I might disparage the series sometimes, but I was still a fan.

My dad popped a squat next to me. "Who is it from?"

"We'll find out," I was about to open the letter, when a knock came at the door.

"Oh, right," a flash of memory came to me. One of the muggleborn students from the novels saying something.

I got up. "Mom here?"

"No, she took Ali to her friends," my dad moved with me, following as we went downstairs to the door. I pulled it open without waiting.

"Ah, good," a woman with short gray hair, a pair of goggles on her head, and gold-yellow eyes that reminded me of a hawk grinned at the sight of me. "You have the letter. Well, lets get started!"

She brushed her way inside, a broom in her left hand. I watched her swoop in with her robes, looking over my living room with some interest, noting the tv.

"Um, excuse me!?" My dad yelled in shock, only to jump when I closed the door and sat down on the couch. He focused back on her. "Who are you?"

"I am Madam Rolanda Hooch," she said with a smile. "A professor and flying instructor. And I'm here to tell you and your son about magic."

My dad looked at her like she was crazy. I already opened up my letter.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Term begins-" I handed my dad the letter. "So. Magic."

"Indeed," Madam Hooch looked a little confused at how calm I looked, but didn't seem otherwise bothered. She struck me as the type of woman who cut straight to the chase. "You, Mr. Ahmed, are a wizard. Capable of using magic."

"Okay, that's enough," my dad sighed, rising up. "I'm going to need you leave."

In response, Madam Hooch pulled out a wand and pointed it upwards. "Expecto Patronum."

A burst of light. A feeling of lightness in the air, a sensation that reminded me of the better moments in my life. A hawk of glowing soft light came from her wand. It hovered for a moment, landing on Madam Hooch's shoulder.

Magic. Controlled. Real. Magic.

My dad's jaw dropped. My own did too, but I forced it closed.

"Magic," Hooch said somewhat smugly.

"So you flew in on that, huh?" I pointed at the broom.

"This," she grinned. "Indeed I did, young man! Are you interested in learning how?"

"Well yeah. Who doesn't want to learn to fly?"

She grinned at that.

"I-I don't understand," my dad mumbled, watching as the hawk faded slowly away.

"Physics has more rules than we thought," I was still a little stunned myself, but I still took a hold of the letter. On the second page was a list of items for purchase. "So. A school?"

The rest of the meeting went well. Hooch walked my dad through everything, and did a couple more spells to confirm, yes, magic was indeed real. Simple transfiguration and such. Then she explained how things worked, encouraged my dad to send me to Hogwarts soon, told us what to do next, and left like she hadn't flipped a man's entire world upside down.

It was harder to convince my mom when she got home. Until she watched the small rat Hooch had left slowly change back into a teacup before her eyes. Then we had to convince her she wasn't crazy.

"That's impossible," my mom moaned. She was holding the teacup, poking at it with one finger.

"Nothing is impossible," I said. "But yeah, it's pretty crazy."

"Do you really want this?" my dad asked me, still shaken up.

"It's useful," I said. "If I can really do this stuff, learning how is useful. I don't want to accidentally turn the teacups into rats."

My mom moaned again. I gave her a hug and sighed. "Better I learn."

"Magic," my dad sighed, rubbing his forehead. "There were stories about our family, but I always thought…"

Oh yeah. Muggleborns tended to be descended from wizards who'd married into muggle families. Squibs usually.

Fuck me. Muggle. Squib. Could there be less appealing names? Whatever.

"It'll be interesting to head to this Diagon Alley place," I mumbled, looking over the list of items in question. I'd been saving money for a long while, scrapping together what I could from chores, cutting lawns, repairing tech and tools, that kind of thing. Had around 1000 of that fake British money they used here, half of which I could turn into that fake Harry Potter money.

The other half was for buying more stock. I'd be a billionaire one day no matter what. My dad had bought some on my advice, though I'd had to fight like hell to convince him to keep it sometimes. One day those investments would be INSANE.

"Gareth," my dad interrupted my thoughts, cutting in with a sigh. "I don't know about this. A new school, with magic? We don't know anything about this world. And you'll have to live there. I went to boarding school, I don't want that for my sons."

"Fair," I nodded. "Well, let's go to that Alley first. We can do our own research. Long as they have books."

My mom finally smiled. "You and your books."

"Best source of knowledge in the universe."

Until the internet. And that was a very suspect source of info.

Then again, books could be just as bad, shoutout to Gilderoy Lockhart.

A day later we got a letter describing how to get to Diagon Alley. It also shifted it's words to answer questions. Very basic questions, akin to Siri in my other life, but it blew my parents minds.

I wish I could say the trip to London and then the alley was something special, but the only special thing about it was that it was a magical world. My mom and dad were blown away by it all, and I was almost as amazed.

I say almost, because I knew what was coming and had a goal to keep me in focus. Which meant I was still fucking hopping up and down in excitement at points.

The sight of the Leaky Cauldron's brick wall sliding apart to reveal an entire magical world was awesome. Owls flying overhead, people in standard pointy hats and robes talking and eating, a pet store with bats, rats, cats, and owls.

It was dope. But the trip went much the way they must usually go. Didn't end up running into Hermione or Ron and their families. Didn't even see the other kids from the books.

First stop though was Gringott's Bank. Which… okay. That was interesting. Mostly because of the bullshit way Wizards and Witches tend to treat the other magical races.

"Assholes," I said to the goblin in front of me, scowling. "That's complete bullshit, man. It's oppressive bullshit."

"It is, what it is," the wrinkled bank teller growled, looking like it was an old topic. "The wars are behind us."

"I hope not. Seriously, I'm gonna be one of these assholes now? Fucking hell."

My mom and dad were still talking to a teller, exchanging money. I was talking to a different goblin to get the lay of the land.

"It's the same in the muggle world," I told the goblin. "A bunch of assholes on top, delegating what is and isn't dangerous, all in the name of keeping power."

"How wonderful, to discover how alike we are," the goblin grumbled.

I sighed. Yeah, guess I was bothering him. "All right, I get it. You got any literature you can recommend at least? So that I'll learn about this shit from an unbiased perspective?"

The goblin sighed. "Young man, anything written is, simply by being printed by individuals, is-"

"From a biased perspective. Yeah, I guess that's fair. Still…"

For the first time, he looked curious. Finally he took a piece of paper from behind his desk and started scribbling.

"There are some books my people have found… palatable, in terms of what they teach about the Goblin Risings. And that is all I will tell you."

"Thank you," I took the piece of paper, but noted how he immediately walked away, clearly done with the conversation.

Yeah. Lots of inbuilt mistrust there. I could relate.

Oh right, Griphook ended up betraying the trio out of his mistrust at one point. Best watch out for that.

In his defense though. Harry Potter as a series didn't end with House Elves, Goblins, and Centaurs joining wizards hand in hand to create a better world. It ended in a return to status quo, as though Voldemort had been the only problem in the world.

Could I even do anything about that?

Because seriously. FUCK the way the other magical races are treated in this world.

Sam Vimes was my role model and Sam Vimes would have burned this shit down around him if he saw the injustice happening around him.

Once we got wizard cash, it was on to purchasing wizard shit. Robes (which were warm and ridiculous looking), a hat (so dumb looking), a cauldron and glass phails (they needed to learn about muggle chemistry tools, stat), basic potion ingredients, a telescope (which used magic to make it as good as anything in an observatory) and a set of brass scales.

I went cheap where I could. I didn't want to flex, I wanted to get useful things.

Books, tons of books, and a trunks of holding. It was actually just a big trunk with wheels, but the damn thing was the size of a small room on the inside. I got the best one of those trunks I could. If I can get an anything of holding, I'm using that shit.

Some things I didn't buy included quills. Quills for crying out loud. Yeah, no. Ballpoint pens, much better. I'd buy two boxes of that. Sell them in school, make mad stacks by spreading it.

I also got my hands on a knife that never needed sharpening, rope, a pair of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, some dungbombs, and stink pellets. And dragon-hide gloves, because goddamn. Granted, it was already required that I would buy it, but I would have grabbed a pair anyways if I could have. I wanted to grab the coat, but the price had me turning away immediately.

Actually I had to look away from a lot of good shit. Needing money is a bitch. I focused on essentials and cheap things that could be used for defense.

In the end, the best weapon I could get was obvious.

Time for a wand.

I went into Ollivanders shop alone. My mom and dad had wanted to follow me, but this was something I wanted to experience alone.

The inside of the shop was similar to the way it had been in the movie, rather than the book, which surprised me. Large, with dozens of boxes of dozens of different sizes, though they were uniformly made for thin objects- why am I being coy? You know what they held. It was a WAND shop.

However I felt about wands (I'd grabbed some books on how African wizards and witches did their training, so hopefully I'd be on my way to wandless magic with time) it was a tool that would be DAMN useful to me.

I looked around the dusty room for a moment.

"Hey, Mr. Ollivander?" I called out. "Are you in?"

"I am."

I closed my eyes and held in the urge to jump. Then I turned and looked at the man of the hour.

Ollivander was an old man, with wide, pale eyes, thinning gray hair, and a small smile on his face. "Welcome. You are a Hogwarts student, yes?"

"So I'm told," I said calmly. "I was told to get a wand. I'm guessing I need to try a bunch?"

"Oooooh, that is certainly possible," he circled me for a moment, humming. His silver eyes were unblinking as he took in every single detail. "Hmmm. Strong build, for a child. Heavy knuckles, loose stance. A fighter, are you?"

"I'm a victim of circumstance."

His teeth flashed. A long tape measure came out. He began measuring me. "Wand arm?"

"Right." I held it out.

"Ah," he began going over me. "What do you know of wands?"

"They all have cores, you use three. Unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. That last one is kind of dark."

"You are correct," he said, ignoring the last. "And of course, no two are alike," he said. "As no two unicorns, dragons, and phoenixes are the same, no two Ollivander wands are the same. And you will never get as good results with the wand of another wizard."

He stepped away and the tape measure kept going on it's own.

"Hmmmmm. I might have something. But of course-"

"The wand chooses the wizard," I finished.

His eyes flashed. Ollivander went back to the shelves and pulled a box off, walking over. Try this. Elm, with a unicorn hair, 8 inches, stiff."

I almost laughed at the last lines innuendo. I took the wand instead and waved it.

He ripped it from my hand and passed me another. "Maple, dragon heartstring, 12 inches, with a good amount of flexibility."

I waved it, got nothing. How nice. This was normal.

One wand after another, over and over. I thought Harry was supposed to be an outlier or something. I was beginning to feel like a damn fool after I held one stick after another only for the old man to rip it out for another.

Then, finally, he pulled on more down. "Hm… A fighter. Well then. Try this."

The wand he held out was black in color, with a big handle. It was thick and long.

"Blackthorn, dragon heartstring, firm, and a full thirteen-and-a-half inches."

I took a hold of it. And felt something pull at me. I grabbed the wand in one hand and watched it take a red glow at the tip.

"Ah, wonderful!" Ollivander chuckled. "Yes. It seems this one has chosen you."

Fuck yeah. I had my weapon now.

Too bad I couldn't use the damn thing. Fuck the law bruh.

But I could read and prepare at least.

I'd bought every years worth of The Standard Book of Spells. I was smart enough not to just start practicing shit, but I knew a few spells that I was interested in. The severing and mending ones, levitation, fire-making. All useful and practical.

They also didn't make sense in terms of logic, but I could let that go.

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, was just as useful. Spells to release bursts of red or green sparks, sure, but also the Knockback Jinx. Awesome.

Those were all short-term shit though. Learning the spells and wand movements would be useful for now. But I was looking for those long-term changes.

Thus the book, The History of Afrika and it's Magicks. It was one of a few books I'd grabbed on the subject, but it was also one that wasn't filled with imperialistic bullshit. Still had some, but it was more reasonable.

Funny. My body was Egyptian, and the oldest known source of magic was there. That was interesting to note.

The book was written by a very stuffy woman named Audrey Lintfoot, and one of many things discussed was the training methods used by African wizards to teach each other wandless magic. It interested me how much of what they did was hand movements and energy based. I wouldn't risk trying it, but I was damn excited.

Goddamn it, I want to throw fire with my bare hands, is that too much to ask? Wands are cool, but real chads throw hands.

In the meantime though. Time to meet Harry.

In the park near both our houses, Harry and I hung out on the swings, Harry going back and forth while I rested on my own swing.

"So the letters keep coming," Harry explained. "Uncle Vernon keeps trying to stop them, but they keep coming, and he's going crazy," the kid shrugged, swinging again. "I barely convinced him to let me out of the house today. It's weird. They always seem to know where I am, too."

He looked around. "You think more will come here?"

"You sound more excited than worried."

Harry grinned. "Well, it's exciting! And Uncle Vernon has been going crazy because of it. They came rolled up in eggs this morning!"

"The postman is more determined than I thought," I forgot the egg thing. That was pretty nuts.

Actually, no. That was well in line with the ridiculous nature of wizards.

"I got a letter like that recently," I told Harry, trying to be as coy as I could. "I can't tell you what was in it, but I think they came from the same place."

"Really!?" Harry looked positively giddy. "Wait, you can't tell me? Why not?"

"Because it's secret, kid. Besides, who knows if it was the same letter. Tell you what. If you end up finding out what Diagon Alley is, we'll know we got the same letter. Okay?"

"Diagonally?"

I gave him a grin. "Okay. Meantime… shall we-?"

Harry's fist was already flying at me. I expected it though. Kid had learned to take advantage of his speed quickly and I'd worked my ass off to remove any idea of 'honor' in a fight. We weren't learning for tournaments, we were learning to survive.

I blocked his smaller fist on my arm and stepped into him, trying to use my larger mass up close. He danced around me, jabbing quickly.

We had twin grins on our faces as we traded blows. Later, we'd grab a big meal and head back home. Then, if I had my timeline right, Harry would soon meet Hagrid. Should be fun.

A couple of days later, my dad answered the door while I was reading Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, using a highlighter and some post-it notes to mark specific creatures of note.

"Uh, Gar!" My dad called up to me. "Harry is here! With his-" my dad stopped talking to mumble something, then continued. "With one of your professors!"

I hopped off the bed and ran down stairs, sliding down the banister at the end. When I came to a stop. I saw Harry. He had an snowy owl in a cage and a grin on his face. Behind him stood a giant.

"Hello there!" Hagrid lifted a hand as big around as a trash can lid up in a friendly wave. "I'm Hagrid!"

"We need to go to a buffet immediately," I said instead of greeting him.

While Hagrid only looked confused, my dad sighed and Harry laughed.