The tavern buzzed with conversation, the air thick with the smell of butterbeer and roasting meats. In a quiet corner near the bar, a young man sat alone, his dark eyes scanning the room with mild disinterest. His posture was relaxed, but his mind was anything but. It wasn't the first time he'd been here, but every time, the crowd felt just as unfamiliar.
As he took a slow sip of his butterbeer, he noticed the man sitting at the nearby table. He had a nervous energy about him—shifting papers, and looking like he didn't quite belong.
The young man tilted his head slightly, studying him. The man's turban looked a bit too big, and his hand shook just a little as he scribbled something in a notebook. But the smell of blood lingering around the man piqued his interest.
"You look like you travel a lot," the boy said, his voice casual but carrying enough weight to make the man glance up in surprise.
The man blinked, momentarily stunned. His mouth opened and closed before he managed to reply, "Huh? Are you talking to me?"
Toji shrugged, not particularly invested in the answer. "Yeah, you seem like you've been around." His tone was nonchalant as if commenting on the weather rather than addressing a stranger.
The man stared for a beat before a forced smile appeared on his face. "Well, yes, I've been traveling for some time now," he said, his words coming out in a rushed flurry.
"You see, I am something of a traveler myself." the boy gave a small nod, his face still impassive.
"I-I see…" The man replied in awkwardness as he felt like he was talking to himself.
"Tell me something... don't you hate traveling with portkeys?" The boy said shaking his head like an old man.
"P- Portkeys? Well it's a necessity as you must know, but I don't know about it being a bo- bother."
"Necessity my ass," The young man muttered, rolling his eyes. "Traveling by plane would've been much simpler. I've been traveling for a month just to get here, you know? Do you have any idea how many annoyances I faced? People bothering me left and right—'Hey, how about a little peace and quiet?' Fuckers wouldn't let me breathe in peace, one thing after another. You'd think out of thousands of wizards, at least you'd meet some kindof bunch, but nah, most of them act like thugs. No matter where you go, it's the bloody fucking same."
The man blinked, clearly taken aback by the bluntness of the words, his lips forming an awkward smile. "I see... it must've been quite a difficult and long journey. Are you here with your parents?"
The boy raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the question. "Yeah, yeah, sure... Parents..." he said with a dismissive wave. "But hey, tell me this: why are you wearing that massive turban on your head? Is that the latest fashion? Is there some magical trend I missed?"
The man froze, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected remark. The awkwardness hung in the air like a thick fog. The young man didn't seem to care. He continued, not waiting for a response.
"Honestly, it looks terrible. You're still young, though, so you might go bald someday, you know what I mean?"
The man gaped at him, caught somewhere between irritation and disbelief. But before he could respond, a deep, gravelly voice interrupted them.
"Hey, kid. Don't bother the professor," a burly man growled, placing his hands firmly on the table. His gaze was intense, but Toji didn't flinch. He simply took another sip of his butterbeer, his eyes never leaving the nervous man.
The professor, however, waved his hand dismissively, attempting to defuse the situation. "Hahaha, it's okay, he's just a curious child, is all." His tone was strained, trying too hard to be friendly.
The boy shrugged, clearly uninterested in furthering the conversation, but something caught his attention in the professor's next words.
"A professor? I assume at Hogwarts?" the boy raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with skepticism.
The man chuckled awkwardly and nodded. "Let me introduce myself. I am Professor Quirrell, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. You must be a new student, right?"
The boy's expression went from disinterest to a sly grin, though his voice was still laced with sarcasm. "Oh, god. I really hope not..." He chuckled softly, enjoying the moment. "But I am Toji," he added, his grin widening as he took another sip of his butterbeer.
Quirrell's smile faltered, his unease more noticeable now. He nodded, but the nervous energy from before only seemed to heighten. "You know, I have never seen a wizard carry a weapon before."
"Is that so..." Toji answered uninterestedly as if it was Quirrell who was bothering him making Quirrell nearly swear out loud.
I knew I would run into him sooner or later, but sitting next to the parasitic dark lord... it's indeed hilarious. Toji thought to himself with a grin, Would I be a hero if I were to kill him right here and now?
Toji leaned back in his chair, letting the faint buzz of the tavern's chatter wash over him not bothering with the two-head much longer. As he sipped on his butterbeer, he allowed his mind to drift back to the miserable ordeal that had been his journey to the UK. The whole thing had been one long, drawn-out exercise in frustration.
Escaping from the clan had been the easy part. Getting halfway across the world as an underage wizard with no passport, no official papers, and no magical guidance system? Now that was a circus act.
He'd started in Japan, hoping that his stash of galleons would be enough to grease the wheels of magical transportation. Turns out, wizards were even more predatory than he'd expected. The tolls for portkeys alone were enough to make his blood boil. And the toll collectors? Oh, they practically drooled at the sight of a kid traveling alone with a money pouch.
It wasn't long before Toji realized he had to stay on guard at all times. Wizards weren't exactly paragons of virtue, no matter where you went. The moment he let his guard down, someone was trying to rob him blind.
And of course, it wasn't just the pickpockets—every stop seemed to have its share of sketchy magical folk eyeing him like a lamb for slaughter. Toji smirked to himself, recalling how a few of those would-be robbers had learned the hard way that he wasn't easy prey.
But the constant vigilance came at a price. Sleepless nights, tense days, and the constant weight of suspicion pressed on his shoulders. Every portkey station brought new challenges, from deciphering cryptic instructions to navigating chaotic crowds.
And then there was the whole issue of direction. It wasn't like he could whip out Google Maps and search "fastest route to the Leaky Cauldron." No, he had to rely on good old-fashioned paper maps, half of which were so outdated they might as well have been drawn by hand.
Toji still winced at the memory of one particularly bad misstep. He'd been trying to get to the UK but somehow ended up in Russia. Freaking Russia.
The cold alone had been enough to make him want to curl up and die. And the wizards there? Suspicious as hell. He was certain if had stayed a minute longer there, he would've become a part of a recipe for some absurd potion.
Eventually, though, his luck—or sheer stubbornness—prevailed. After what felt like an eternity of sleepless nights, dodging dark wizards, and swearing at uncooperative portkeys, he finally made it to the UK.
The Leaky Cauldron became his temporary refuge, and for the first time in weeks, he'd slept in an actual bed instead of some dingy alley or cramped magical waiting area.
Still, Toji couldn't let himself get too comfortable. His brother's cronies had gone quiet for now, but that didn't mean they weren't out there. The calm was unnerving, like the air before a storm. He kept his senses sharp, his guard up. If they came for him, he'd be ready.
But for now, as he sat in the warm, noisy tavern, butterbeer in hand, Toji allowed himself a rare moment of peace. The journey had been hell, no doubt about it making him certain that he needed a refuge regardless.
The thought of curing his Heavenly restriction was absurd to begin with, although he did wonder if it was just a curse. But the main point of his journey was to be around the 'dark wizard hunters' who Dumbledore had raised over the years not curing the curse.
Toji knew his strength was growing and it would only grow further the more experienced he'd become. So until the day he could fight for himself, he needed a safety net.
But last but not least, the most important thing that came out of his journey was peace of mind. The fact that he had killed a man weighed heavy on his mind. He had come up with several excuses for himself, the fact that it was accidental and he had reacted just in the moment. However the truth still remained that in that moment it was either die or kill, and he chose to kill.
Ever since he came to this world, he hadn't completely lived a simple life, whether it was killing some pixies or some annoying ghouls, his hands were already stained with blood. This time it just turned out to be a pesky dark wizard is all.
As Toji was lost in his thought, the faint hum of the tavern was suddenly punctuated by a ripple of whispers, like stones dropped into a still pond. Toji's ears caught the murmurs, each one weaving together a name that rang with both awe and curiosity.
"Harry Potter..."
It wasn't just one voice; it was several. The name floated through the air like an enchantment, pulling the attention of almost everyone in the room.
Toji's dark eyes flicked toward the bar, where a small group of wizards huddled close, their conversation growing more animated. Bits and pieces of their chatter reached him.
"...the Boy Who Lived..."
"...starting Hogwarts this year..."
"...finally out of hiding..."
He didn't need to look at the man beside him to know he wasn't the only one listening. The nervous professor stiffened, his quill freezing mid-scribble. The tension radiating from him was almost palpable like a wire stretched too tight.
Toji smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. Oh, this is going to be good.
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Kinda early to plug things but I hope you can also check out my original novel as well.
Mana Forged: Iron Mage
Show some love and thank you for reading!