Magic Multiverse 32 (Patreon)

“Well, this doesn’t look good,” Sam muttered as he looked around Hermione’s flat, which he had entered using the emergency key Hermione had was not home, but that wasn’t a surprise.

His frustration was mostly about the half-eaten food on the table, already moldy. That was not good news. Neither Hermione nor Holly was the kind of person who would leave half-eaten food to ruin their flat.

Alone, it wasn’t that much of an issue, but it worried him nonetheless.

Curious, he checked Hermione’s bedroom, but it was magically locked. Holly’s room wasn’t, but there was nothing extraordinary. Just a bunch of ordinary stuff. He didn’t even know if she had moved them away because of their past interaction, or whatever they might have been dealing with.

He frowned, wondering if it was worth trying to unlock Hermione’s door. He was confident that he could do easily thanks to his improved Wiccan Magic. The general shape of the locking spell was simple, and he could remove it in a few minutes.

But, he couldn’t put it back.

Later, he decided. He still didn’t know what was going on, and all things being equal, he still preferred not to explain why the spell was gone. More importantly, he didn’t expect to find anything that was really relevant in the room.

He decided to check the Leaky Cauldron, which was a much better destination. But, before leaving, he had cleaned the leftover food, and left a note, telling Hermione to call him, that he was worried.

It was more for appearances than actually thinking it would help, a part of what he needed to deal with.

This time, he didn’t visit the pub in his normal clothes. He had done two things, he crafted a fake wand, and he made sure to pick a black robe from a store that sold cheap costumes to theaters.

Combined, he managed to look like a wizard; and he hoped that Tom the bartender had forgotten him. But, even if he hadn’t, he would just claim that he wanted to look more like his nonexistent brother or a similar sentiment.

Though, he was hoping to avoid it in the first place. During his previous trip, he had seen how the gate worked. They just tapped with their wands, no spell or other measure. He was hoping that it was something he could bypass with his Wiccan magic.

If not… well, that was a question that could be answered then.

Two hours were all he needed to finish his preparations. He put on the robe just before he walked in, and immediately, he walked to the back, radiating confidence. No one even blinked.

In front of the wall, he took a deep breath, feeling tense even as he raised his fake wand and closed his eyes for a second, channeling magic to the small rune he had drown to the tip of the wand.

A moment later, the brick wall parted, revealing a gate, and he walked, tense, afraid of what he would find…

What he found was a surprising, electric mess. He didn’t know exactly what he expected from Diagon Alley, but a bustling commercial district, with hawkers shouting about discounted dragon liver wasn’t that.

He was surprised by just how crowded and messy the street was in general, but he wasn’t complaining. The more crowded it was, the easier it was for him to blend in.

He wanted to check what was going on with Hermione, but to do that, he needed to ask questions. And, he couldn’t make people suspicious. If anyone checked and realized he didn’t have any brother going Hogwarts, they would probably just erase his memories.

Hardly something he wanted to subject himself to. So, he walked back and forth, taking note of the different shops. Some were extraordinary, like a fancy marble-and-gold bank guarded by some small but vicious-looking creatures.

Others, like an ice cream shop, were impressive in their ordinary nature.

If he had time, he would have been very interested in visiting the shops for potions, wands, and magic books, each promising power in very different manners. He didn’t want to enter the potions shop, because he didn’t have any money to afford even the weakest potion. He might have entered the wand shop, but it was too empty, and he didn’t want to be the only customer in a shop.

It wasn’t a risk worth taking, especially since he didn’t expect to be actually capable of using a wand.

However, he did enter Flourish and Blotts, the magical bookstore. It was far less risky, because there were a lot of people who were going in and out. More importantly, he should be able to browse a few books without making people suspicious.

He walked past a woman debating loudly with a shop assistant about whether a particular potions book was overpriced, and moved toward the end of the shop, reading the spines of the books. If any shop assistant bothered him, he was ready to tell the same story about the squib trying to buy a gift for his little brother.

Luckily, that proved not to be necessary, which allowed him to flip through the books. He focused on the books for the first three years, particularly charms, transfiguration, and defense against the dark arts.

He didn’t read them fully, merely flipping through, committing the incantation and wand movements of the spells to his mind. He might not be able to use them, but recognizing them and their exact impact seemed to be a good idea.

Luckily, with Wand Magic Theory and Magical Combat giving him a strong basis in certain aspects of magic, it was more like filling the blanks rather than trying to memorize a whole new topic.

He had been planning to listen more, but he was distracted by two girls. Not by their beauty, because they were, which was apparent even with the ugly robes they were wearing, but by their words.

“Poor Granger. I can’t believe she’s still locked up in France,” one of them said.

Sam froze the moment he heard it, and put the book he was holding in place, and instead listened to their talk. Soon, he realized that they were gossiping. Unfortunately, that was the only valuable piece of information they provided. The rest of the talk had been about how Granger hadn’t learned to stick out just like in their school days.

Classmates of Hermione.

He didn’t make a move, feeling a little alarmed by the coincidence of people talking about Hermione where he could hear. He decided that learning more about magic could wait. He left the bookstore, and started walking in the streets.

However, he soon realized that his worries were overblown. After he drifted closer to people, he realized the two girls he had talked to weren’t the only ones talking about it.

It looked like he had underestimated Hermione’s fame.

Soon, he understood the general outline of the events. Hermione had been part of a conflict with the French Ministry of Magic, which resulted in her being detained. It was also clear that it was more of a diplomatic posturing than a real arrest, nothing about the news suggesting Hermione was facing real danger.

That, and apparently, Holly was in the Ministry for some kind of emergency meeting, trying to find a solution for the issue.

That was good news.

Unfortunately, while the gossip was useful to understanding the general outline of the events, the same didn’t apply to more practical details. He heard thirty different rumors about why Hermione had been detained, from it being part of Weasley’s revenge for the broken engagement, to Hermione secretly being a Dark Witch.

He discounted them, even the part that Weasley was the cause of her arrest. While his actions had shown that Weasley didn’t take his broken engagement lightly, expecting him to have the power to get Hermione arrested was too much.

If he had that much power, he would have just gotten Hermione fired, which, with her workaholic obsession, would have annoyed far more than getting arrested.

A sigh escaped his mouth as he did his best to think.

He didn’t have a plan yet. Hell, he didn’t have even the beginnings of one, which would require him getting in contact with Holly; and even then, explaining his knowledge of the magical world would have been tough.

Luckily, not too tough. He could claim that he got curious after owls had delivered letters to Hermione, and while digging in her bedside table was an invasion of privacy, their suspicious behavior should be enough justification.

… but even with an explanation in place, he was helpless. He had no way of contacting Holly. He couldn’t just walk into the Ministry even if he discovered where it was, and the only person he knew by name was Ron Weasley.

Considering their indirect connection, that was a dud. For the same reason, when he saw a shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he avoided it.

Again, maybe he was being a little too paranoid, but being surrounded by wizards and witches while his presence was highly illegal impacted his confidence.

Since he had determined Hermione’s trouble was not something he could assist with ease, he decided to focus on exploring Diagon Alley, taking note of the shops, prices, and general utilities.

As he explored, he decided that Diagon Alley was mostly the main artery, with some specialist streets for rarer stuff, though among those streets, one called Knockturn Alley caught his attention.

It was a shady street that promised risk and reward in equal measures, including how to make some money quickly. However, in the end, he decided against it. At least, not immediately. Just by looking from entrance, he had noticed some creepy cloaked figures that reminded him of Sunnydale’s less cheerful residents.

Maybe once he got a better understanding of the threats hidden in the shadowy streets. Common sense suggested that a street directed to a major commercial street couldn’t be too dangerous … but then, nothing he had seen in the magical world suggested that wizards had common sense.

But, before leaving, he had done one more thing. He had returned to the bookstore, but this time, instead of magic, he had found a few travel guides. He wanted to understand the magical government of the rest of the world.

… there, he found a nasty surprise. Just as he expected, America had a Magical Government, called MACUSA, or Magical Congress of the United States of America. That much was good. The guides mentioned several landmarks, including a few major magical schools like Ilvermorny and Nevermore.

The nasty surprise was the borders. The map made it clear that MACUSA only covered the East Coast. Not only did the West Coast have no magical government, but there were also explicit warnings about it being forbidden.

The warnings were pretty vague, but he had a good idea of the reason. At least, a part of it. The density of vampires and demonic entities was pretty obvious. As for whether there was another reason… well, he had a feeling he would learn.

Eventually.

However, he was afraid that it would be too late. He actually needed to learn why wizards and witches were not allowed to visit California before he had to fly back, and for that, he needed money.

“Well, maybe Knockturn Alley is not that scary,” he decided. His destination, a little pub that also functioned as a gambling den, which he had discovered earlier.

Well, discovered was a strong word, as they were hardly trying to hide it in the first place. He even watched them throw out a wizard and warn him about the gambling debt.

As for money, he only had a silver sickle in his pocket, which he had found on the floor of the bookstore while browsing, and shamelessly took it. Two sickles was not a lot of money, barely enough to afford a meal and a drink, but he was hoping that it would be enough to pay the minimum for a game or two.

He didn’t necessarily need to make money on his first visit. Just getting a general sense of the place would be enough.

“Wands stay sheathed inside. Pull one, and we’ll break your wand arm,” the bouncer at the door warned. He was tall and had a scarred face, but at this point, after spending ten days in Sunnydale, he didn’t find them scary.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied, which was a promise he could fulfill easily, considering his was more of a theater prop than anything else.

Once inside, he looked around, checking the games before he smirked. There were multiple card games he didn’t recognize, but they were also playing chess, which was not something he expected.

He certainly wasn’t complaining.

The game was the same, except the pieces moved based on vocal commands rather than by hand. And, he could see that most players were not exactly masters of the game.

“How about a little warm-up game for a new arrival?” Sam said as he looked around.

“Fine,” one of the wizards said. “But, nothing serious first. You’re a newcomer.”

“Naturally,” Sam responded, and put a sickle on the table. “Just a warmup.” In actuality, he expected to get some points in the first place. After all, they were actual wizards, so they should have Tertiary Character designation at a minimum.

Winning the game took five minutes, and that was with him intentionally playing slowly. After all, he had already reached Advanced, which meant his chess skills were resting in that uncomfortable chasm that separated professional and amateur … more or less.

However, at the end of the game, he received an unwelcome little surprise in addition to the sickle he had won.

There was no notification.

Frankly, that was not what he had expected. He had always assumed the System designation had something to do with magic, reinforced by the fact that two girls that had been identified as Main Characters were magical chosen ones, one famous for killing a dark wizard just as a one-year-old, the other a chosen warrior awakened after the fall of another.

Not getting extra points was a bit of frustration, because half of his enthusiasm about trying to enter the magical world was believing that he would be able to boost his skill development further.

Unfortunately, it was not to be.

“Good game,” his opponent mumbled as he left the table, not bothered much. After all, a sickle was hardly the kind of money that made people fight for losing.

“Thanks, I try,” Sam said.

“I don’t remember seeing you around,” he said.

Sam shrugged. “I was away for a few years. Mostly New York.”

The man shuddered. “I can never deal with those obsessed bureaucrats of MACUSA. They need a special permit for every spell, including a cleaning one.”

Sam nodded, ignoring the temptation to drop something about how Los Angeles was worse. That was not something he wanted to reveal immediately. “Another game?”

“Sure, why not?” the man said. “Double or nothing?”

Sam nodded, spending another ten minutes to win the game. His opponent was unremarkable, but he was chatty. Sam had no way of knowing what was important or not, so he tried to commit the notable names to his memory to better understand the world.

They played two more games after that, each for two more sickles, meaning, when the game ended, Sam was the proud owner of half a galleon.

Not exactly a great treasure, but enough that he could buy a pint of something called Butterbeer and mix with the crowd. The drink itself was light, creamy, and shockingly delicious, but he carefully nursed it.

He was not in a place he could afford to get even tipsy, let alone drunk.

He drifted around for a while, sticking to the chess, avoiding the card games. At first, it was because he didn’t know the rules, but soon, he realized the game itself was suspicious. So, while sitting on the corner, he closed his eyes for a second, focused on his developing magical senses.

Each card had a unique magical signature.

Sam didn’t say anything, but he made two observations. First, he needed to be careful while playing here, because rigged games meant connections to troubling people. Winning games that one was expected to lose was a quick way of getting on the bad side of those people.

However, the bigger realization was about the general magical sensitivity of wizards. The magical markings that they had used on the cards were very obvious. He just needed a few seconds of focus to detect them.

Yet, none of the wizards complained, even the ones who lost a respectable pile of money during the game.

Meaning, their ability to sense magic might be worse than he had expected.

Interesting.

Of course, he had his advantages. Wiccan Magic might be weak, but it had its advantages, especially at his current level of expertise.

He stayed and played, never betting big, and occasionally throwing out games with bigger rewards, acting like he was losing, even cursing occasionally and muttering about his debt.

He didn’t want to look like he was winning; and not just to avoid becoming a target.

A careless gambler on a losing streak was a treasure to other gambler, the kind they had done their best to keep around … even when said gambler started asking curious questions about the latest public scandal about Holly Potter and Hermione Granger…

A good thing, because toward midnight, in addition to having four galleons in his pocket, he also had a name from one of the other gamblers that worked in the ministry as an assistant, in a department called Department of International Magical Cooperation, who was happy to spill the beans during a chess game he won.

The guy claimed that the whole thing was politically motivated; that someone called Draco Malfoy deliberately used his position to order Hermione to take possession of an artifact that was discovered, intentionally putting Hermione in a troubling situation.

According to his little gambling partner, it was a genius move, the kind that would teach uppity Mudbloods about their place in the world, which was supposed to be under true wizards.

Sam wasn’t familiar with the term, but it was obviously an insult. A nasty one, considering the reaction of the rest of the crowd. He had seen the same reaction at the pub, whenever an idiot started babbling about how things might have turned out better at certain people getting too uppity and forgetting their place in the world.

And, if a gambling crowd in a shady den was reacting like that, it must be truly nasty…

Sam couldn’t say he was happy, but the man seemed to be aware of what was going on, so he acted like he wasn’t bothered by the unpleasantness of the man, instead dragging him to one of the chess boards near the corner, and ordered a bottle of something called fire whiskey.

At the same time, he made sure to start losing, giving up the majority of his hard-earned money. The guy responded talking a lot, intersecting his rants about how mudbloods needed to learn their place under purebloods like him with the genius plan of two guys called Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy that would help them regain their rightful place…

He was also enthusiastic enough to drop a lot of unnecessary details, including where they usually spent their nights.

He had been very helpful, which was why Sam didn’t feel any guilt when he followed out once he called it a night, and when he pulled his wand to apparate, he took him down with a Judo throw, stole his money, and for good measure, even broke his wand. The guy had talked about breaking the wands of muggleborns too many times, so Sam gave him a taste of his own medicine.

His money pouch had some kind of subtle tracking spell, but dismissing it was easy for him. He was starting to realize that, while the effects and practicality of his magic wouldn’t come close to wizards, his sensitivity was exceptional.

However, even as he returned to Diagon Alley with a full pouch, solving what previously had been his biggest problem, he didn’t feel good. He had initially assumed that Hermione’s issue was a trivial diplomatic issue, but learning that she was being sabotaged by certain dark factions in her government put a different spin.

“At least I have a name and a location,” he muttered as he decided to take action.

He couldn’t leave Hermione in peril.