Once I was back in my shack with Patrick's help, I started sorting through the purchases.
"I found a hag named Lucillia running a shop in Leeds. Enchanting Curios, two streets over from where you picked me up. In a few months, go there and ask her about books on magical crafting, warding, enchanting, and rare spells. Tell her your master learned of her existence through someone named Lester," I said as I placed the books on the little desk I had Patrick buy while I was gone.
"Yes, Patrick will do. Do you treat the ugly hag the same as a human?"
I furrowed my brows but realized that Patrick must have asked for a reason. I didn't yet know why hags were not considered witches because the one I saw wasn't as ugly the muggle fairy tales made them out to be. They might simply have creature blood in them like sirens, veela, Japanese yokai, or the animal totem lineages in Native American tribes.
And then they were discriminated against because of their 'impure' blood here in Britain... or well, they actually crave human flesh and think children are delicacies, and through the actions of a few, they are hated as a species.
"For now, yes. She accepts muggle money, so I don't care much for her lineage. We can save galleons going through her."
"You be really kind-hearted," Patrick said with worship in his eyes, and I felt like Patrick knew about hags and the reason for their treatment. But I wouldn't ask him. Patrick had a screw loose about such things. I learned at least that much when I looked up many of the things I had asked him about to learn the wizarding common sense during my time before Hogwarts at the orphanage.
"I guess. Any more mail for me?"
"Yes!"
"And did you check them for dark artifacts, and is there something from the ministry?"
"Nothing from the ministry and one dark artifact."
"Nice! Thanks, Patr- wait! Did you just say there was a dark artifact?"
"Yes!"
"What did you do with the owl who brought it?"
"Patrick put it in a cage, of course, but Patrick didn't hurt it just like you ordered."
"Good job. Bring the package and the owl over."
I took a deep breath and activated my eyes to look at what was sent over. I knew I should call aurors over and have them investigate since sending cursed artifacts via owl post was a pretty serious crime, but I didn't want to advertise my living arrangments so I did a little digging of my own.
"Here, Master Talion," the elf said as he dragged over the cage with a pretty, noble looking barn owl with a black face and dark blue feathers.
The owl's pitch black eyes had an unsettling glint of intelligence in them, and the bird didn't look like it cared much about its current capitivity.
"Well, aren't you a pretty owl. You wouldn't tell me who your master is, would you?"
The owl tilted its head 90° to the side and looked at me for a while, and stretched out its leg after.
On it was a clamp with a logo I knew all too well, House Malfoy.
"Wait. You're telling me Lucius Malfoy was stupid enough to send his personal owl to deliver a cursed artifact? If he just wanted to find my whereabouts, all he had to do was send a regular letter and be done with it?"
"It might have been the dimwitted offspring," Patrick said with a scoff, and I looked at my elf in wonder.
"You're cursing wizards now?"
The elf opened his eyes wide and looked just about ready to cave his head in at the nearest pointy object.
"Good job!" I praised before he could do it, and Patrick visibly deflated after hearing it. Like those two words had just saved his life.
House elves were freaking weird.
"And you raise a good point. This was probably Draco's work... let's see what he sent?"
I levitated a small parcel no bigger than a book over and saw... Draco's Merlin-be-damned handwriting on the card attached to it as he pretended to be an admirer who wanted to gift me something for my outstanding Quidditch performance.
"It's like he wants to be sent to Azkaban. He didn't even use another's hand or a dict-a-quill to write this note. As if I wouldn't commit the handwriting of a student who ordered others to torture me to memory with the help of Flitwick's assignments that I looked over with Flitwick after training... I'm sorry for Sirius and his cousin Narcissa... but I don't think Draco will survive his school years at the pace he's pissing me off," I mumbled as I shook my head in disbelief.
"Never mind. For failing so hardcore to raise a human being, Narcissa can go suck it. It's her fault to begin with," I cursed as I opened the box Draco had sent that contained the most obvious cursed artifact ever that nobody with two functioning brain cells would touch. An ominous, obsidian-black pearl necklace. For a man. Just what was wrong with the idiot?
"Is that the fucking Borgin and Burkes necklace Katie Bell picked up against her will in the sixth book? No wait, that had green opals not black pearls. But holy macaroni Draco is a dense clown..."
I ordered Patrick to hide away that necklace as best he could at a place only he knew - which was easy since I gifted the elf the smallest of the extended space mokeskin pouches from the hidden caches of the family home. There was no need to wait for Lucius Malfoy to take advantage of the situation and somehow frame me for possessing the Black Pearl Necklace of Eternal Doom and Demon Worshipping or whatever the hell this thing was called.
"Alright, what to do with you...? Will you work for me?" I asked the owl after turning to it.
It would be a pity to let such a rare looking breed of owl go.
The owl, as remarkably smart as ever, shook its head and pointed its beak to its talon with the Malfoy logo iron clamp.
"Hmm, does that mean you're loyal to house Malfoy? Or you can't help but be loyal because of that iron thingy?"
The owl hooted so I asked again, "You are bound to be loyal because of that thing?"
Another loud hoot.
"Wait, this was more rhetorical than anything. You would actually stay with me if I got rid of that iron tag?"
Another loud hoot.
"You know what? Even if you're using me just to get away from Draco and getting back your freedom, I'll do it to piss off the dumb idiot."
I handed another piece of meat to the caged bird and concentrated back to the table filled with gifts. I was an orphan so I hardly cared to wait to open these packages at the appropriate time and started unpacking.
I also didn't want to free the black barn owl from the magical tag in my home in case it sent back a homing signal to its master. So the bird would have to wait.
"Hmm, chocolates from some randoms... A book on dueling over the ages from Hermione, a broom maintenance kit from Hilliard, how predictable... another maintenance kit from Harry... ugh, I got him a second hand book from his mom's school years I found in the book store in Hogsmeade and he cheaped out on me? I hope he's feeling like a git later," I said to myself as I started opening the gifts one after another.
"Muggle football shin guards from Sue together with a sweet letter... nice and practical, I might enchant them if I figure out how. Much more comfortable than the magical variant... Mandy with a book on the history of broom racing... not bad, I suppose. Isobel actually didn't cheap out on me and got me a book on magical plants and fungi in magical Ireland? Sick! I kinda feel bad about getting her a simple scarf like everyone else..."
As I contemplated the gifts I had received and had to chuckle because I received only gifts from girls except for the Weasley twins who sent me the third ever copy of our game 'Battlebrooms' as a joke because of my 0003-tagged Firebolt, Harry and Hilliard from my Quidditch team and house, and Neville with a seed from a rare magical cactus breed because we had actually learned to stand each other's presence after a term of sharing two extracurricular clubs. Over two dozens of these gifts came from female students.
"Should I try to find another girlfriend from among them? Being with Lavender felt kinda nice..." I whispered to myself as I held the gift my former girlfriend had given me. A magical moving photograph of my first ever goal at an official Quidditch match, the 30-0 where I kicked the ball into the hoop with a feint after a standard Quidditch play.
I shook my head because in all honesty the girl I'd be most interested in was Lara and while we bantered a lot in recent weeks, I was quite sure she was serious when she said I wasn't her type, if she had one.
Next was a gift from Slytherin first year's Natalie Rosier, who started to talk to me when I roamed the library and she sat together with Isobel MacDougal from my house and Isodora Selwyn from Slytherin. My humble and helpful attitude I no longer considered a play on my part but my actual personality had extended toward those from other houses, mostly Gryffindor during Transfiguration or Hufflepuff in anything but Potions. But once the rumor was spread, four of the six Slytherin girls had asked for advice from me when nobody was looking.
Only Pansy Parkinson, who I assumed had reservations because of Draco Malfoy due to family pressure, and Millicent Bulstrode, who I assumed was simply too shy to talk to anyone outside her comfort zone, were not yet on speaking terms with me.
Even Daphne Greengrass, the love object of many fanfictions in my prior life memories, had asked for advice on how to find books in the library once because she was looking for certain materials she couldn't find. Tracey Davis, on the other hand, treated me like a pal would and made me question myself why I didn't go for her for my Gossip Queen plan.
Well, the plan had been a mistake in hindsight, so maybe it was better that I didn't engage with the bubbly airhead from Slytherin. Who knew if she was correctly sorted into Slytherin since her outgoing persona was merely a facade to get what she wanted after she was underestimated.
In any case, Natalie, who received a simple scarf like all the other girls from her house and most from mine, got me a pressed flower. According to her letter it was enchanted to forever smell nice and the letter even mentioned that I was free to pot it once more should I want to plant the flower, which was a favorite for most wizard perfumes apparently.
Only Tracey got me something other than Natalie from among the Slytherin girls, but she 'merely' got me some sweets from Honey Dukes, not that I minded. The opposite in fact. Most of these girls put in way too much effort.
-----
The next morning, I freed the owl near the eastern coast of England way past York to make sure Malfoy could never find me. I actually made it easy for myself and cast several 'Finite Incantatem' with various intents and power levels on the tag and already after the first one the tag lost its white shimmer in my magical vision.
After the tenth spell, I saw the owl went from white to green in my vision indicating that it became an ally and ordered the owl to stay outside if it wanted or leisurely fly towards my home if it wanted to.
I also named the owl Nyx because of her night-sky black face feathers, not that it was a particularly creative name. But if Harry can name his owl after the Saintess of the poor and triumph, not that he knew at that time, I can name my owl after the primordial goddess of the night and chaos. Wait no, Chaos was her father... right?
I should wait to see if I get any more dreams about gods like Odin and Heimdall, maybe I get to see the Greek and Roman pantheon eventually and see the real Nyx? Well, if she existed.
With Nyx cared for, I made my way back toward York after a quick stop home, found a public floo I had looked up before with Patrick's help, and made my way to Crawley, hometown of House Farley. Weird coincidence with the -ley and generally similar sounding city and family names.
Bella Farley, my great-aunt, had sent me an invitation that acted as a homing beacon if I came close enough because I didn't want her to pick me up with Apparition. Walking about the snowy town in Southern England on Christmas Day was a relaxing experience anyway and my inner clothes were enchanted to keep me warm in any weather and my slick leather shoes had anti-slip charms on the soles as well. Magic.
When the time drew near to find my relatives' home, I took out the envelope with the directions on it and started walking towards the gentle pull of the parchment. On the outskirts of the quaint city I eventually entered a sort of street for rich people with every following home looking more expensive than the last. No more rusted old Fords or Volvos drove past me. Instead I saw an occasional Jaguar or Bentley but not much more - the traffic died down significantly when I reached homes straight out of stories about Victorian Era haunted houses... just like the Macnair family home in the woods outside Glasgow.
Opposite my eventual target, Farley Manor, my ocular ability picked up something different from the other magical homes. The gate for this home had the logo of the brotherhood, the stylized capital A on it. It was barely visible, but more than that, I saw an item outlined in gold above the grand door of the grand home.
I'd definitely be coming back to check this out, but right now I only noted down the name of the family who owned the place. Frye. I never heard of them, but that didn't mean much if they were muggles and part of the brotherhood. It would have been by design, most likely. Not that I was particularly well-read about any of this in the first place.
I turned back to Farley Manor after I was done looking at the curious home of an assassin family and did as the invitation asked. I took out my wand and used it to knock on the parchment of the invitation as it laid against the pillar holding the gate.
"Did it record my magical signature because of the invitation? Did it check the intent?" I mumbled as I entered the premise and walked up the small hill toward the house.
"Ah, little Talion!" Aunt Bella greeted as she welcomed me at the tall, heavy wooden doors of the house. "Punctual, smartly dressed, and bearing gifts! You learned well."
I was pretty sure she wanted to praise whoever raised me, but thought better of it after she learned about the orphanage in full. So, with a polite chuckle, I handed over the first expensive bottle of wine for the day and gave the woman an appropriate short hug in greeting.
"Aunt Bella, thanks for having me."
"Pish posh, boy! You need to spend this day with family! And what is this? I don't think I've heard of this wine?"
I grew a little embarrassed and scratched the back of my head in a practiced but casual-looking manner, "Sorry Aunt Bella, but no magical would sell me alcohol as a first year Hogwarts student. So I had to resort to buying from muggles. They told me this was one of the finest wines they had in their stores and it was served during functions of British Nobility."
"Ah! It must have cost you a fortune," she said with pity in her eyes as she regarded the bottle much differently from before. First with uncertaintanty and later with warm regard.
"No worries. I actually managed to make quite a bit of money in the muggle world due to a connection I made in the magical world," I said in reassurance and was glad I didn't forget not to lie by saying it was a connection I made in Hogwarts. I knew Patrick a few weeks before than, after all.
"And you're telling me you are not a Slytherin?" Bella inquired with a joking tilt of her head as she led me inside. "Let's get you out of the cold, dear. Gemma, my husband Charlie and his sister Madge are waiting to finally meet you."
"Really?" I asked curiously because the last time we met face-to-face, Bella needed to talk to her husband first because of the impending feud with Lucius Malfoy and except for the time that passed, not much had changed.
"Really," my aunt said stubbornly.
'Ah, so she put her foot down for me?'