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The link is also in the synopsis.
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Quinn stared to his front with one eye with a charming smile on his face. He was dressed sharply and sat with his best posture — he was trying to be the best he could be, and except the eyepatch, he was. . . . perfect.
"Quinn, dear, do you want more," said the lady sitting in front of him. She had short brunette hair, wearing an apron over a long light blue midi dress, and Quinn could see the resemblance she bore with her son.
"Yes, Mrs. Carmichael, I would love to have more," said Quinn, setting his glass on the table for a jug to float over it, refilling it for another serving of reddish-pink punch. "Thank you, it's delightful, Mrs. Carmichael," smiled Quinn, "especially this shortbread. . . . it's so good! No wonder Eddie is always ranting about the food at school."
"He does, doesn't he," said Eleanor Carmichael, glancing at her son who was sporting messy bed hair and sleep clothes, staring at the scene with discomfort, "what would I do with you, Ed? You knew Quinn was visiting today, and look at you — you didn't have the decency to wake up early in the morning even when I woke you up," she gestured towards Quinn, "Look at your friend; he's so well mannered and even brought gifts for us. Grow up a little and learn from Quinn."
Eddie could only nod at his lovely mother's rant in fear of being hit with her mighty ladle. But when he glanced at Quinn, he saw his best friend grinning deeply into his glass. Eddie fought the urge to throw the platter on the table at Quinn — the bastard was acting like he was the best-behaved person in the world.
"How's your eye feeling dear," asked Mrs. Carmichael.
"It's growing properly, ma'am," said Quinn, "though it's a little itchy."
"This year wasn't good at all," she sighed, "first Ed got into that accident playing quidditch, and then you lost your eye — and now, all the news about You-Know-Who and how Dumbledore has been saying that he has returned."
"Things had been quite chaotic these few days," said Quinn smiling while picking himself a slice of cake, "I'm sure it will all settle down quite soon. I'm just hoping that it doesn't get too hot this summer. You know how it gets. . . ."
"Yes, it gets quite bothersome," Mrs. Carmichael agreed, "now dear, I hope you're hungry and staying for lunch."
"Yes, of course, ma'am," smiled Quinn; he was always ready for food, "I ate a lot of the food you sent to Hogwarts. I'm pretty sure that Marcus and I ate half of anything you sent."
Mrs. Carmichael stood up and smiled, "It's good that you did. I sent it for all you three boys. Now, let me set up the table, and we will be eating soon."
"Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael," said Quinn as the woman exited the room. He turned to Eddie and smiled, "Your mum is nice. . . . and I have to say, a great cook."
". . . . You know what's going to happen when you leave," said Eddie, "she'll hound me for the entire day about Quinn this, Quinn that and then bring you up time and time again to win arguments. . . . couldn't you have reeled it in a little."
Quinn raised his hand and wiggled his index finger a little — Eddie shivered a little when he felt his hair stand up before settling down; his sleepwear got ironed, his shirt got tucked in, and the top button tied up. He touched his head to see his bed hair was now combed.
"See, much better," said Quinn, "you could've done this before coming down; you would've been fine."
"Unlike you, you wandless dipshit, I can't use magic without a wand and can't unless I want a letter from ministry up my arse."
"Oh, I forgot about that," smiled Quinn, "it's not like you'll get a letter, you know? The letter won't come if you do magic inside your house. . . . the tracker will classify it as your parents doing the magic."
"Even so, I can't. My wand is in my luggage, and mum stashed it in the attic."
"Always keep your wand with yourself with you, mate — you never know when you need that zap of magic," said Quinn before switching to something of more importance, "how's it looking? Does it look like your parents will allow you to come to Hogwarts?"
"Hmm? Ah, that, huh. . . . well, as you saw mum, she doesn't think much of it, but dad has been worried a little, but not to the level that they won't allow me to go back to Hogwarts."
"That's good to hear," smiled Quinn, "Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you there cursing at me daily."
"You bet it won't, you little bitch."
"Hey, Woah, Hey. . . ."
"It's already out, can't take it back," said Eddie quickly, "what about you?"
"I'm definitely coming. No opposition from my side."
"Great."
Mrs. Carmichael entered back into the living room. "Come, you boys, the table is set," she asked when she saw them smiling, "what are you talking about?"
Quinn leaped onto his feet, "We were talking about the OWLs. . . . Eddie was telling me—"
"Oh, OWLs! How did you do on your OWLs, Quinn," asked Mrs. Carmichael.
"I think I did great," smiled Quinn, "though I'm a little worried that I didn't get enough time to study with the quidditch tournament. . . "
Eddie watched as Quinn walked with his mother while giving him a wink. Quinn had just made the aftermath that much worse.
"Motherfuc—"
"EDDIE CARMICHAEL!" yelled Mrs. Carmichael.
"Quinn kissed the French Veela champion in front of everyone!" blurted Eddie for no reason.
Quinn turned to Eddie and threw his hands up with a 'what' expression before turning to Mrs. Carmichael. "Eddie has gotten very close to his Yule Ball date, Tracey Davis," he turned to Eddie and maliciously grinned, "I have pictures."
The expression of pure curiosity that bloomed on his mother's face caused Eddie to let out a soundless scream.
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- (Scene Break) -
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The British summer was at its peak with the sun throwing its death beams of heat at the habitants, making their life quite miserable. The non-magical media declared the summer of 1995 as the hottest summer, breaking all records and setting new ones.
"Marcus. . . ." hummed Quinn, his voice flowing with pleasurable delight.
"Hmm?" came the reply.
"Why didn't you say that your house had a pool?" asked Quinn.
Currently, he was floating weightlessly on his back inside the pool in Marcus's home's backyard. He had sunglasses with a blue tint on and was dressed only in a conjured pair of swim trunks.
'I should ask Ms. Rosey to build a pool at home,' he thought, 'or maybe I should do it on my own.'
"You never asked," replied Marcus in a similar state as Quinn.
"This is the life, my friend," said Quinn.
". . . . don't pee, okay," said Marcus, but where he didn't hear a reply, "don't pee in the pool!"
"I won't, I won't, don't worry~."
"Quinn, which NEWT level classes are you going to take? Didn't you give OWLs for all twelve subjects?"
"Yeah, I did," even though Quinn didn't study Muggle Studies and Divination, he gave the OWLs for both of them — he wanted twelve Os on his diploma, "I'm going to take all NEWT-level classes except Divination, Muggle Studies, and maybe Care of Magical Creatures. . . . I will study Care after Hogwarts as that will be more extensive, but I'm not sure if I want to learn it in Hogwarts."
"But you're going to give NEWTS for all, correct?"
"Yeah, that goes without saying."
"What should I take?"
"Just take whatever subjects that interest you."
"Subjects that interest me. . . . I'm not big on Care, Divination, and Herbology. . . , but brewing potions can be fun, so I can't discard Herbology."
"Then take whatever you think you want to study, and then you can decide in the seventh year if you can keep it up or not," said Quinn, "and as long as you don't want to become something like an Auror or Healer, you don't have to score Outstanding across the board, as long as you have Exceeding Expectations, you'll be fine. . . . marks on your degree becomes redundant after a few years."
Of course, as Marcus was Quinn's friend, Marcus would get admission to any apprenticeship programs funded by the Wests or a job in the business. Quinn left that unsaid as he didn't want Marcus to become lax — he would tell Marcus this near the end of their seventh year, during the career counselling period.
"Okay," said Marcus, "do you have any plans for next year. Anything grand like the quidditch tournament?"
"No, oh no," replied Quinn, "the quidditch tournament was too much work to be done in a year. I don't want to do that amount of work for a while."
Then Quinn groaned. He put his hands on the surface of the water and pushed himself up, pulling his body out of the water, and soon he was standing on water. It was okay because Marcus and Quinn were alone at Marcus's home as his parents were out shopping for the Belby family's trip to Turkey.
"That won't get old no matter how many times I see it," commented Marcus.
"You want to do it?"
Marcus stirred in the water, "I can do that?"
"Well, you can't do it on your own, but I can make it so you can stand on water."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Quinn pointed at a place of water near Marcus for it to glow in an aqua-blue color, "that lit-up spot is essentially solid, so use it to pull yourself up."
Marcus was doubtful, but when he touched the aqua-blue, it really seemed solid, and even when he put some weight, it didn't collapse or let his arms slip into the water. He gingerly used the glowing platform to pull himself out of the water.
"W-Woah," chuckled Marcus amid balancing himself on the water. But his eyes widened in shock when the glow vanished, and he instinctively closed his eye, but he didn't enter the water like he expected.
"That glow was just for marking purposes," snickered Quinn, "you can walk anywhere inside the pool."
Marcus took hesitant and careful steps on the pool, checking twice for the structural integrity. It took him a couple of minutes before he started walking normally, but that was the extent Marcus was ready to test the limits.
Quinn, on the other hand, was doing cartwheels, summersaults, backflips on the pool. Which did nothing but provoke his balance disorder, and he came close to puking all over the pool.
Pool time ended with Marcus rubbing Quinn's back as the two friends kneeled on the pool's surface.
When it came time for Quinn to leave, Marcus asked him to wait for a moment before he went running up to his room.
"What is it?" asked Quinn when Marcus came back.
"Here, this is for you," said Marcus, placing a small ring box in Quinn's hand.
"Yes, yes, yes — a hundred times yes," grinned Quinn, "when's the wedding?"
"Oh shut up," said Marcus, "open it; you'll be surprised with what's inside."
Quinn followed Marcus' words and opened the velvet-covered box with a smile — the smile which drained when he saw what was inside.
"This is. . . ."
Inside the box was a burnt, pitch-black sphere that was missing a lot of its parts.
"After you collapsed, and the maze was cleared out the obstacles, I went into the labyrinth to see if I could find the eye," shrugged Marcus, "I thought you would like to have a look to see what went wrong with your magic — luckily, I was able to find it."
Quinn stared at the charred artificial eye before gazing up at Marcus. "You went out looking for this because of me?"
"Yeah," nodded Marcus, "I know how important magic is for you. So, I went out. . . . it's not a big deal."
"No, no, no," said Quinn, "what do you mean, it's not a big deal? This is a big deal, Marcus," he stepped close to Marcus and engulfed him into a tight hug, "this is a huge deal for me that you did this."
Marcus couldn't do anything but hug Quinn back, and he had to admit it, the hug felt good — it was nice to be thanked. . . .
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- (Scene Break) -
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"What are you doing here?" asked Ron Weasley, seeing Quinn West sitting in the middle of Burrow's dining room while the family was busy packing up for a move.
"I don't know," said Quinn being honest, "I was going home after visiting Luna when your two older twin brothers cornered me and dragged me here."
The Weasley twins were like a typhoon and had crazy persuasion skills that Quinn didn't know, but before he knew it, he was sitting in the Burrow with a bowl of Raspberries in front of him. And
"I let my guard down," said Quinn, and he didn't mind it at all because all he could think was that his investment was going to give him great returns in the future.
". . . . and why is there paint on your face?" asked Ron because, with the eyepatch, the drawn up beard, and scar lines, Quinn looked like a pirate, and all he needed was a hat.
"I was visiting Luna," said Quinn as if it explained everything. He didn't have time to remove it — he was going to remove it when he was a little distance from Luna's house, but just when he got far enough, the twins ambushed him.
"Are you guys doing a summer cleaning?" asked Quinn, looking at the boxes everywhere.
"Y-Yeah, something like that," said Ron. He couldn't tell Quinn that they were going to move a secret headquarter. . . . the thing was the Ron didn't need to say anything; Quinn already knew his thoughts.
"Where are my brothers?" asked Ron.
"They went up to their rooms to get some stuff."
And on cue, the Weasley twins came down to the dining room with two big boxes.
"Quinn, here take a look at this—" "—this is what we have come up with for next year—" "—some of them are complete—" "while others are still under development."
The twins dumped the boxes on the table for Quinn to see. Pirate-Quinn stood up and, with his one eye, started to shuffle through the things inside the box.
"Boxing telescope, Comb-a-Chameleon, Demon Box, Lucky Dip, Otters Fizzy Orange Juice, Magical Moustache Miracle Stubble Grow, Self-propelling Custard Pies, Unlucky Dip, Wonderous Wands, Dragon Roasted Nuts, Tiny Twister, Sticky Trainers, Mysterious Midnight Moon Madness, Exploding Whizz Poppers, Silver Sparkling Snakes, Thor's Thunder Cracker, Voodoo Fountain, Diabolic Dare Devils, Bang Bang Boggart Banger, Saunders' Invisible Silk, Miraphorus Magic Set, Eduardo's Unbreakable Eggs, Crush Blush, Flirting Fancies, Pygmy Puffs, Twilight Moonbeams, Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher. . . . "
One by one, Quinn took out the items, saw what they did, got descriptions from the twins, critiqued them, suggested improvements, and asked them questions on the future of the incomplete products.
"I'm assuming your mother isn't home," asked Quinn seeing all this stuff out in the open.
"Yeah, mum is out—" "—she went out just before you came—" "— that's why we invited you in—" "— we have a little time before she comes back."
The twins pointed at the family clock — the clock hand with Molly written on it was pointing at the "Shopping" tab.
"Eh? What's happening?" asked Ron. All the different products didn't faze him, but all the complex money and business talk that accompanied confused the hell out of him.
" "Nothing; don't worry your little head about it." "It will hurt if you do so."
"Huh?"
Quinn packed everything back and gave his final words, "The products have value and will do well with a younger crowd — Hogwarts and younger, which is fine for now as it's better to target a smaller niche at the start, but I will suggest that you start thinking and planning for things that cover an older demographic — it's good if you start thinking about these things early."
Twins nodded. They weren't amateurs when it came to sales. They had been doing it at an informal level for years; they just needed to convert that knowledge earned through experience to a formal level — Quinn's consultation provided them with a bridge to help them transition.
"We can't wait—" "—in just one more year."
" "We will have our own shop!" "
'And with it, a new stream of income for me,' thought Quinn, 'my first step on a journey as an investor,' he glanced at the twins, 'hell, these two even manage to bag defense contract in the future. . . . they just might become the crown jewel in my portfolio.'
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- (Scene Break) -
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George West came down to the dining hall for supper in the evening to see that other than Ms. Rosey and Elliot, his two grandchildren were absent.
"Where are they?" he asked.
"Lia took a Portkey to France for a night out with her Beauxbatons friends," informed Ms. Rosey. Because of the volume of Lia's travels, she had learned to cast the Portkey spell for her travel needs. The young woman had more experience creating Portkeys than those her own age, who worked at Portkey departments in various Ministries.
"And what about Quinn? I made myself clear that he wasn't to remain outside after supper time."
"Quinn's having dinner at the Greengrass household."
"The Greengrass, you say," hummed George, his hand went into his pocket and came out an envelope, "I wanted to discuss something with him. . . ."
"What is it?" asked Ms. Rosey, noticing the unusual expression on George's face.
George slightly raised the letter and commented, "A letter came from the Abate-s."
Elliot and Ms. Rosey went silent with surprise. It had been a while since they had heard of that name.
". . . .What do they want?" asked Elliot.
"They want to meet him and are inviting him to visit," said George.
"And?" asked Ms. Rosey, asking for George's decision.
"You know I can't decide for Quinn, at least not for this. He'll decide if he wants to go and meet them."
That day, the dinner at the West manor went in silence as the three people ate in silence and thought.
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Quinn West - MC - On a tour of friends' homes.
Eddie Carmichael - Profanity machine - That went down the other way quick.
Eleanor Carmichael - Mother - Her ladle is mighty.
Marcus Belby - An Angel - Just what can one say about him.
George West - Grandfather - The Abate(s). . . .
FictionOnlyReader- Author - Next chapter we visit Greengrass and another one (Guess who, Quinn said he would visit this person.)
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The link is also in the synopsis.
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"Now, tell me. . . . which of my hands hold the galleon."
Astoria Greengrass intently stared at the two closed fists in front of her, her eyes moving back and forth between the two trying to figure out the location of the hidden galleon.
"Your right is slightly raised, so I will say that it's in the left," she said.
Quinn smiled and opened his right hand, "Too bad, you're wrong," there sat a golden galleon sitting in his right palm.
"Again?! I've lost ten times in a row," said Astoria, huffing, "how are you doing this? You're using magic, aren't you?"
"Of course, I'm using magic, my dear Astoria," said Quinn with a smile, "but not the magic that you and I know how to use — this is a different type, and in the hands, just as charming.
"You just have to look closely and ask yourself the right questions," said Quinn, gazing at the black-haired Greengrass, "when you eliminate all other possibilities, the remaining answer, no matter how improbable, will be the correct one."
Astoria narrowed her eyes, trying to deduce how Quinn did it, but — "I can't tell. You're definitely using magic — the first kind."
"Do you want to how I did it?"
"Yes!"
Quinn opened his left hand, and there sat another galleon. Astoria gasped while he laughed.
"Whichever hand you chose, I opened the other to show you the coin — and with a little flair, I made sure your attention was off the hand you chose."
"That's not fair! You cheated," said Astoria, complaining.
"I didn't, young one. We never set any rules — nowhere did we decide that I couldn't use two coins."
"If you can use two coins, then I should get two chances to guess."
"Fair enough."
"See you denied. . . . wait, really?"
"Yeah, sure," shrugged Quinn, "you get two guesses every chance the next time we play this."
"Next time?" then Astoria saw Quinn smirking and realized that the next time wasn't going to come anytime soon. She exclaimed in frustration at getting her hopes up and threw a sofa cushion at Quinn, who caught it while laughing.
"You two are making too much of a ruckus."
The two turned to see Daphne enter the lounge, dressed in a white high-collared sleeved blouse and below the knee-length black skirt. She sat down beside Astoria and greeted Quinn,
"Apologies for keeping you waiting," she said while pushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, "I was preoccupied with some lessons."
"It's fine. Astoria is excellent company," said Quinn, and as he couldn't wink, he settled for a smile.
Daphne stared at Quinn's face for a good few seconds before asking, "How's your eye faring?" her eyes still fixed on the red eyepatch, which matched with his shirt and complimented well with his black pants.
"It's coming along just fine. It'll be back in a week," said Quinn before picking up his glass of elderflower cordial, "this is delightful; where can I buy this? I would love to have some of this at home."
"We grow them at home," said Astoria, jumping into the conversation, "it's Daphne's favorite, so mum makes sure to grow it whenever it's the season."
"Oh? Is it now. That's good to know," Quinn looked at Daphne, "as expected, Daphne, you have excellent taste."
". . . .Thank you," said Daphne giving her beaming sister a brief glance.
"So, are you guys also going to the Potter twins' birthday party?" asked Quinn.
"I'm going!" said Astoria, raising her hand high.
Daphne nodded with a sigh. It was a given with how close their mothers were to each other. Every year, at least, Daphne and Astoria would go to the Potters on the 31st of July, and vice-versa, the Potter twins would attend Daphne's birthday.
'Wait,' thought Daphne and asked, "what do you mean by 'also'?"
"Hmm? Oh, I'm invited this year."
". . . . Which one of the twins invited you?" asked Daphne.
"Harry did; why?" asked Quinn.
"I know~! I know~!" said Astoria, before Daphne could, "every year, invitations to birthday celebration go out, but things get interesting as the invitations aren't addressed by Ivy and Harry Potter together — any invitation can only have one name — either Harry or Ivy."
Daphne sneakily sighed in relief. It wasn't the reason why she had asked.
"Oh, why is that?" asked Quinn, sounding interested.
"It's because of the competition."
"Competition?"
Daphne took over from there and continued, "Every year at the Potters' birthday, they hold a competition between the twins — the invitations are a way to gather teams for said competition. . . . taking your case, as Harry invited you, your invitation will have Harry's name on it, and during the evening, you'll be on team Harry."
"That. . . . sounds really interesting," said Quinn, "what kind of competition are we talking about here?"
"It changes every year," said the blonde, "we have put on plays, done fishing competition, trivia contests, and so many other things."
It turned out that the Potter twin didn't celebrate their birthday at home, but at different destinations, because their house was in a mixed neighborhood and there wasn't enough place to host all the guests. Moreover, unlike the usual parties, it was a whole day event.
"Oh ho. Now, I'm looking forward to attending the birthday," said Quinn, "then, what about you guys? Whose team are you two on?"
"I'm on Harry's," said Astoria.
"Ivy's," said Daphne.
"Then it looks like Astoria, and I will be winning this time," said Quinn, high-fiving Astoria.
Then there was a pop, and a spotty green house-elf wearing a tan pillowcase appeared in the lounge. The house-elf stared at the three with his big, watery eyes,
"Food is ready. Master be calling," he said.
"We will be there, Barley," said Daphne in acknowledgment, and the house-elf popped away. She turned to Quinn, "let's go; mother and father must be waiting."
Quinn nodded and stood up at once, "Let's. We can't keep Mrs.," he caught a glare forming and quickly improvised, "and Mr. Greengrass waiting."
"Let's hurry. I'm hungry!" said Astoria and ran ahead.
"Don't run!" Daphne called out as she stood up, "she's going to get herself hurt," she sighed.
"Well, we can't do anything about that," said Quinn, falling into step beside Daphne, "her energy levels will remain high for the rest of the day," he had just treated Astoria, "she'll be back to being her usual relatively-manageable self tomorrow."
. . .
"So, Quinn. . . . bad luck, eh?" said Jacob Greengrass, "an excellent year throughout, but it ended up with a hiccup — quite a serious hiccup."
"I wouldn't say a big hiccup," smiled Quinn, "temporarily losing an eye isn't that serious. I have been through worse."
"Oh, like what?"
"Like dunking himself into freeze potion," said Daphne, "freezing his entire body to the point that he had to stay inside in the hospital wing for ten days."
"What she said," said Quinn.
"Tracey told me that Quinn was bald during that time," said Astoria, chiming in.
"That I was."
"But as dear said, it was quite an eventful year for you, wasn't it, Quinn," spoke Sophie Greengrass, "whenever I was with my friends, I think I heard your name more than I heard the champions'. When we heard that a student organized the tournament, everyone was impressed, and the result just deepened the amazement."
"True," said Jacob, "I think I even heard that because the tournament was so successful, many in the quidditch world are talking about adopting the Quinn-format as a new format."
"Thank you, but I would like to correct you on one thing," said Quinn, "it wasn't me alone who made the tournament as successful as it was," he gazed at Daphne, "Daphne and my helpers aided me every step of the way to make things possible; as such, I can't take all the credit."
"How humble," smiled Sophie.
"I would actually like to thank you for including Daphne in the tournament," said Jacob, "it was a good experience to have, which I'm glad that Daphne and Tracey both got to be a part of."
"I only chose those I thought were capable — Daphne is one of the most capable people I know, so selecting her was a no-brainer."
The girl in question felt her cheeks flush, which she tried to push down. But not before her mother caught a glance of it and a knowing smile made onto her face.
That evening, Quinn went on to say many things that made Daphne flush a lot while Sophie almost had a permanent knowing smile on her face as she observed her daughter from the side.
"So, Quinn, what do you think about the Dark Lord?" asked Jacob suddenly out of nowhere when they were having dessert.
"Jacob!" exclaimed Sophie at her husband's abrupt inquiry. Daphne and Astoria, too, looked a little uncomfortable.
"It's fine, Mrs. Greengrass," said Quinn, putting down his ice cream bowl and spoon. "The Dark Lord, hmm. . . ."
The Greengrass family all turned to Quinn with varying levels of surprise.
"Magically talented," said Quinn, "the dark lord is a generational talent when it comes to magic," he noticed the looks his hosts were giving him and shrugged, "just because he went down the path he took doesn't mean he isn't great — and you of all should know my views on magic.
"I would say the Dark Lord was charismatic with a great talent for manipulation," he continued, "otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to gather so many followers." Tom Riddle had been as charming as Quinn when he was Hogwarts — the only one to suspect him was Dumbledore.
"To be able to manage egotistical people from noble houses, even the infamously stubborn Blacks, and bring them under one banner; that takes some effective leadership." Even now, Tom's style of leadership had changed from the original charismatic rule of the Hogwarts gang to the tyrannical and completely ruthless - though no less highly effective - command of his Death Eaters demonstrated throughout both the First Wizarding War.
"He must be an excellent teacher, given how his inner circle Death Eaters were able to contend with highly trained Aurors," Quinn's attack on the Death Eaters at the World Cup hadn't been an accurate representation of Death Eater's skill as he had ambushed them and all of them were piss drunk and neither were they personally trained by the Voldemort himself.
Of course, there were things that Quinn left unsaid — like Salesman skills that Riddle demonstrated at Borgin and Burke's when he was in his late teens. The indomitable willpower that helped him survive more than a decade inside the Albanian forests as well as for several months on the back of Quirrell's head as well as in the old Riddle House for an equally lengthy-time period, showing that aside from his determination, he had remarkable endurance and tolerance.
"The Dark Lord is terrible, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he's great," said Quinn shrugging, "his fault was that he took down the wrong path — if he had just been more like me, then he would have been terrific and great."
The Greengrass family just stared at Quinn as he finished his thoughts. At most, they were expecting to be a slightly different version of the oh so terrible Dark Lord.
"I must say, Mrs. Greengrass, this ice cream — better than Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor."
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- (Scene Break) -
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Garrick Ollivander worked in the back workshop of his narrow and shabby shop when he heard his shop's tinkling bell, which rang when someone entered the shop. He stood up and walked outside to greet the new customer — it was near the time when he got eleven years old getting their first wands.
But when he arrived at the front, he saw the back of a person who looked older than an eleven-year-old. Ollivander silently opened the partition in the counter to step outside for his standard surprise greeting, but just when he had taken a single step, the customer spoke,
"I appreciate you keeping things fun, Mr. Ollivander. But, I think you should just do it with the eleven-year-olds. . . . doing that with everyone will wear the novelty off. Leave a one-time solid impression that will stay with the kids for the rest of their lives."
The customer turned, and Ollivander recognized the person at once.
"Quinn West," he said and then addressed the most obvious detail, "you have lost your eye?"
"Just for a short time."
"I see. . . . if I remember correctly, you did say you'll visit me in the summer. Are you here for some maintenance on your wand?"
"I don't think my wand will need maintenance, Mr. Ollivander. . . . mine is as good as the day I received it from you," his wand was still encased in a block of wood, inside a heavily warded room inside his suitcase.
"Then, what do I owe this pleasure to?"
"Do you follow the news, Mr. Ollivander?"
"I try to, but my works keeps me busy."
"Then have you heard about what Dumbledore has been saying?" asked Quinn.
"About You-Know-Who's return? Yes, I have read about it."
"Has Dumbledore visited you?"
"No, he hasn't," said Ollivander, sounding confused, "what's going on, Mr. West?"
'It seems either Dumbledore either hasn't figured it out yet, or he has been too busy,' thought Quinn.
In the original timeline, Ollivander had shared this piece of information about Harry's wand being a brother wand to Voldemort's with Dumbledore as Harry didn't have a guardian, but because this time around, Harry did have guardians, and because Potter parents didn't the information want the information out, Dumbledore wasn't privy to it.
"Priori Incantatem," said Quinn.
Ollivander's eyes gazed into Quinn's, and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them.
"The Reverse Spell effect?" said Ollivander, his mind turning in thought.
"Exactly," said Quinn. "Harry Potter's and the Dark Lord's wand share cores, don't they? Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix."
"How do you know that?" said the wandmaker, and as he asked this, his thoughts clicked, "wait. . . . are you saying that Dumbledore's telling the truth. . . . and Harry Potter met with You-Know-Who?"
"They met; they dueled; their wands connected. . . . you know what happens when a wand meets its brother."
"They will not work properly against each other," said Ollivander. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle . . . a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed — in reverse. The most recent first . . . and then those which preceded it. . . ."
He looked interrogatively at Quinn, and Quinn nodded.
"The wand to be overwhelmed was Voldemort's, and the spell he cast was Killing curse," he said.
The fact that Voldemort was overwhelmed by Harry Potter would have been unlikely, but given the circumstances — Voldemort had been just recently revived — it wasn't farfetched to think that his magic was in a period of instability.
". . . . An echo," said Ollivander, "I am guessing that apparitions appeared. . . . and retained known forms. . . . less recent victims of You-Know-Who's wand. . . ." he added, "The last murders the wand performed. In reverse order."
"The Dark Lord will want answers, Mr. Ollivander," said Quinn, "and who better to ask than the wandmaker who crafted his and Harry Potter's wands — the two wands in question."
"What are you saying?" asked Ollivander, a gulp preceding his words.
"The Dark Lord will come, Mr. Ollivander. And from what I had heard from about him, he isn't a person who will invite you for tea so that you could give him lessons about wandlore," Quinn moved a step closer to the old man, "no, he will torture you no matter how quick you give him the answer. He might even, you know. . . . if your answer displeases him."
Ollivander gulped harder. His eyes trembled a touch.
"I suggest that you make preparations for your safety, Mr. Ollivander. Or you might — you will be — in serious danger."
"B-But, I can't!" exclaimed the usually serene man, "so many new children will require wands. I can't just leave and take that away from them."
Quinn sighed. The man in front of him didn't have a personal life at all — a work-a-holic at its worst. But he understood — wand crafting was Ollivander's life. If you take that away, there was nothing left. To some, a life without meaning was as good as death.
"He won't come now," said Quinn, "the Dark Lord isn't in a position of power to show himself. He will brew chaos from the shadows, bidding in silence for the time when his arrangements are compounded into completion — you have until before the start of the next summer. For now, you can keep working. . . . but don't get comfortable, Mr. Ollivander."
"W-What do you suggest I do?"
"Get in contact with Dumbledore and others in the Light Faction — separately and together. Tell them what you know and, in return, ask for shelter. Dumbledore will want Hogwarts to be a point of normalcy, and for that to happen, new students must get their wands — he will provide you with protection."
If Quinn didn't want his family to get involved, he would have offered the West resources, but that was out of the picture. And Quinn, while he had his more than plenty personal riches, he didn't have much influence and resources outside of Hogwarts.
"Yes, yes, that sounds right. I will do that," nodded Ollivander, sitting down on a barstool.
"Of course, it goes without saying, but you must not talk about our little chat with anyone — anyone at all, not even Dumbledore himself."
"Eh, why so?"
"This was me being generous and a Good Samaritan," smiled Quinn, "but there's a limit to what I'm willing to do in the name of good deeds. If the Dark Lord comes to know that I'm the reason behind the setback, he will not be happy — and I would prefer if he's feeling jolly — it will do the world a lot of good."
The truth was that Quinn wanted to buy some time. If Ollivander was to remain hidden and away from Voldemort's reach, then Voldemort's discovery behind the twin cores would be delayed even if it's a little. That little time would extend Voldemort's passive 'waiting-in-the-shadows' stance.
The extra time that everyone could have some use of.
"I s-see. I'll keep this a secret."
"Excellent," said Quinn with a big smile, "then, I'll take my leave, Mr. Ollivander, "I can only be outside for so much with this ol' thing," he pointed at his deep yellow eyepatch.
Ollivander got up on his old knees and shook hands with Quinn, thanking him profusely for his warnings and advice. After Quinn stepped out of the shop, he looked back and snapped his fingers with a smile.
Inside, Ollinvader got up to return back to work when he heard a ton of footsteps to see dozens of people — big and small — enter the shop with more people waiting outside.
"Oh my," he smiled, "welcome all of you, please form a line. . . ."
.
[
A/N:
Water magic doesn't mean that he gets an all-in-one healing magic. It would help, sure, if Quinn used it. *He still needs to learn all the healing knowledge*, to actually use water magic for healing — Quinn knew blood magic, and that's why he was able to apply water magic in treating Astoria.
He wanted to use healing magic, but Quinn has a medi-healer (hired by his family) treating his eye. His family thinks that his eye injury was due to faulty magic, now how do you think they would feel if Quinn decides to put his own input when his eye was taken out by a faulty eye magic.
As for him taking potions and calling it *Archaic*? A majority of the healing magic is potion based — there is no way to eliminate potion. Even the Elixir of Life extracted from the Philosopher's Stone is a potion. There was a cauldron full of potion present in Voldemort's revival. Healing in Harry Potter isn't like Wolverine's and Deadpool's, please keep that in mind. This isn't a Retcon.
]
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Quinn West - MC - Pioneering eyepatch fashion.
Astoria Greengrass - Hyperactive - Primary subject for muggle-magic demonstration.
Daphne Greengrass - Likes Elderflower - Her cheeks match Quinn's eyepatch.
Jacob Greengrass - Papa Greengrass - Asked the question.
Sophie Greengrass - Mama Greengrass - Excellent Ice cream.
Garrick Ollivander - Wandmaker - Loves his job a little too much.
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