HP: The Son of Tom

The mind was a battlefield.

Silent, personal, invisible... but deadly.

Not one of fire or crossed wands, but of hidden thoughts, sharp memories and disguised emotions.

Aurelian knew it. And he trained it with the same discipline with which a swordsman sharpens his blade every morning.

In that new year, the year he would turn ten, training his mind became his main obsession to master the silent arts:

Occlumency and Legeremancy.

Night after night, while the other children in the orphanage slept, he sat upright on his bed, in complete silence.

His eyes closed, his breathing slowed.

It was not meditation, it was mental construction.

He erected internal barriers: impenetrable towers, labyrinths of illusions, deep lakes of encapsulated memories.

Everything inside his mind.

Each memory was carefully classified, as if they were rare books in an enchanted library.

The most painful ones, locked in heavy chests.

The most dangerous ones, covered with an invisible fire.

At the center of it all... himself, watching himself from the outside.

Occlumency offered him defense.

Legeremancy, a door.

Aurelian did not use the second one cruelly. He practiced it cautiously, learning to read gestures, expressions, tones of voice. Stinky, always attentive from the shadows, limited himself to observing. He didn't interrupt him, didn't comment, but his big eyes showed respect, and perhaps, a little concern. For Aurelian was not playing at being a wizard: he was forging himself to survive, to be better.

However... it wasn't all internal struggle.

On his days off, he would escape to Diagon Alley, like a whisper in the crowd. Sometimes to get new books, magical ingredients or tools for his broom designs.

But other times, just to feel that the world was not only shadows and blood.

He would stop in front of shop windows filled with bubbling cauldrons and impossibly colored feathers. He listened to the wizards laugh, bargain, live. He indulged in luxuries no other child in the orphanage could imagine:

A cinnamon ice cream and enchanted blackberries at Florean Fortescue's.

A lemon cake that sparkled on the tongue.

An enchanted stew that stirred itself and released bubbles of aroma that made you laugh.

There, among that gentle chaos of everyday magic, Aurelian remembered that he was still a child. A different one, yes. One who trained like a wise old man. One who planned like an heir of centuries. But one who could still enjoy the sweet and absurd taste of a lollipop that whistled magical songs when he bit into it. But at the end of the day just a child.

Those moments, when he walked leisurely along the enchanted cobblestones, he felt that maybe...just maybe...the world still had something beautiful to offer him.

_________

That day, Aurelian did not think about theories or strategies. He just wanted to rest.

He had trained his mind and his magic for weeks without pause. Entire days immersed in deep Occlumency exercises, mental rehearsals to improve his accuracy, complex readings on alchemy, and long periods of time perfecting his magical perception.

He needed a break. For that, Diagon Alley was his ideal choice.

There was something comforting in the sound of hurried footsteps on the enchanted streets, in the scent of sweets wafting out of the stores, in the animated voices of wizards and witches busy with their daily duties and lives.

Sitting by the central fountain, with an ice cream of cinnamon and enchanted blackberries slowly melting between his fingers, Aurelian watched.

Not watching. Just... listening to the world.

Until he felt it. It wasn't a scream, or a spell. It was a change in the energy of the environment. An imbalance, as if the magic itself was asking for her help.

He got up, leaving the ice cream halfway, walked in the direction of a little-traveled side alley. Her steps were light, his face serene, but inside, his magic was awake, vibrating.

There they were. Two girls about their age, in simple robes and frightened expressions, were backing up against a wall as two hooded men closed in on them. One already had his wand raised. The other was grinning with yellowed teeth.

Aurelian didn't think about it.

She raised a hand.

Petrificus Totalus - The spell departed from the center of his chest into his hand, channeled by sheer will. One of the men fell like a statue.

The other spun around, surprised to see that his attacker was... a child.

But Aurelian was already advancing. His face showed no fear, only determination.

Expelliarmus - The second fell to his knees as his wand went flying, bouncing off a wall of magic bricks.

The girls stood still. One of them had a face dirty with tears and dirt. The other, her hair tangled and her lips pressed together as if she were holding back a scream. And then Aurelian smiled at them.

It wasn't a big smile or a fake one. It was a faint gesture... kind, true. A spark of affection that asked for nothing in return.

He reached into his robe and pulled out two small packets of Singing Candies. Their colors changed slowly, emitting soft chords that harmonized with the mood of the one who held them.

Carefully, he offered them to her. One for each of them.

The girls didn't speak. They couldn't. They looked at him with wide eyes, amazed. As if they didn't understand how someone could be so... human. As if no one had ever offered them anything before without expecting something in return.

When Aurelian was about to ask them if they needed help getting home....

They disappeared

A gust of magical wind, a bluish flash.

A transporter, Aurelian theorized.

Aurelian slowly lowered his hand and looked into the empty air.

The threat had passed. But something else remained in his chest: a strange feeling.

Not just because of what he had saved.

But because of what he had felt in the gaze of those girls. Loneliness. Like his own.

He returned to his bench. The ice cream had melted.

But he didn't care.

Because, for a moment, he wasn't the hidden heir to a cursed line. Nor the kid who trained like a madman in secret. He was simply someone who did the right thing. And that...tasted better to him than any ice cream.

September 1988 came with a cold air, a light mist covered the magical rooftops of London. Aurelian, in gray robes and the bearing of one who felt at ease among secrets, walked down the steps of Gringotts. His appointment with Kravix was part of a routine that, for him, had moments of both practice and strategy.

The private room smelled of enchanted leather and melted sealing wax. The goblin was already waiting for him with an open enchanted folder, surrounded by figures floating like golden constellations.

"Welcome, Mr. Gaunt" greeted Kravix without preamble "We have consolidated the latest information on your investments and assets."

Aurelian sat calmly, folding his hands.

"I hear you."

"Your investments have been, in all honesty, exceptional. NOKIA has shown unexpected growth even by Muggle standards. Profitability at Nimbus continues to rise, and we have successfully diversified into several magical sectors: rare ingredients, sporting brooms, and even premium potions for elite wizards."

Kravix snapped his fingers, and a glowing figure emerged into the air.

142,670 galleons

Aurelian nodded without speaking. A glint of satisfaction crossed his eyes, but he did not allow himself the luxury of pride.

"And the manor?"

Kravix sat up slightly, adopting a more solemn tone.

"Riddle Manor has been restored in its entirety. But more importantly, it is protected with archmagical grade defense enchantments. I have applied protocols that include:

. Invisible deterrent seals to all unauthorized wizards, even if they use tracking enchantments .

. Magical rebound barriers against offensive spells, curses, or forced appearance attempts.

. Time anchor seal, which prevents any manipulation of time within the grounds .

. A sensitive detection system that recognizes the magical signatures of those entering and leaving, linked directly to this master key." He held out a small ring of enchanted obsidian, which floated to Aurelian's palm.

"Able to resist an Archmage?" he said incredulously.

Kravix flashed a dangerous smile.

"Only an Archmage could breach. And even then, not without alerting Gringotts and you in advance. No protection is perfect, but this... is on par with the great magical fiefdoms of the continent."

Aurelian slowly turned the ring between his fingers.

"Well done, Kravix. I'm not moving in yet, but I want to visit soon."

The goblin nodded.

"When you say, the manor will be ready."

Aurelian leaned back a few inches, watching the floating figure in the air.

142,670 galleons

It was only the beginning.

"This will be the Gaunt legacy..." he muttered to himself.

Kravix, without needing to ask further, understood that Aurelian was not just talking about money... but something much bigger.

The golden figure still hung in the air when Kravix, after a graceful hand gesture, dispelled it as if it were enchanted smoke.

"Now that your assets have exceeded one hundred and forty thousand galleons, Mr. Gaunt, I believe the time has come to consider a new phase in your financial strategy."

Aurelian narrowed his eyes, interested.

"What do you have in mind?"

Kravix unfolded a scroll. This one had a more rustic texture, with territorial seal markings, in its bottom corner glowed a small glyph of agrimagic record.

"Your current investments, particularly NOKIA, have been visionary. Muggle capital has given you an unusual advantage. But even the strongest currents can change direction. It's time to diversify further. And I've managed to locate something... interesting."

"Where?"

"In the north of Scotland, in the Highlands. Also in an isolated magical region of Ireland. These are undervalued lands, with dormant ancient magical activity, abandoned after the European Magical War. But according to updated reports, its soil still possesses an ideal resonance for the cultivation of rare alchemical ingredients."

Aurelian slowly sat up slowly in the chair, eyes sparkling at the mention.

"Are we talking about mandrakes, third grade valerian roots...?" 

"And potentially pure-line wild wormwood, moon lily, and wildfire sap, if you enchant the fields well" Kravix added with a touch of enthusiasm.

"With the right care and discreet hires, we could establish an independent plantation that would allow you, in the future, to control some of the magical supply of certain advanced potions."

Aurelian smiled sideways.

"Not just grow wealth... but control the key magic inputs. I'm interested. Do it."

Kravix nodded.

"I will analyze both plots and present the best option for immediate acquisition, of course, the identity of the buyer will be... unrecognizable."

"Perfect And regarding NOKIA?"

Kravix turned another scroll. The Muggle company's growth line was unmistakable.

"My recommendation: double or triple the investment now, before it opens to the wider international public."

"Allocate 20,000 more galleons to NOKIA" ordered Aurelian "Make it one of our main columns."

"Done" smiled Kravix.

The young wizard gazed silently out the window of the subway office, imagining not only galleons, but lands, ingredients, potions and webs woven with time and vision.

"This..." he murmured without taking his eyes off the distance "is only the beginning."

Kravix silently nodded. For in his centuries working with magical families and forgotten fortunes, he had never seen someone so young project his legacy with such a balance of power, patience and purpose.

After the new investments were agreed upon, Aurelian looked down at the floating planes of Riddle Manor. From above, the property looked like an inconspicuous castle hidden among English fields. However, he now knew that it was armored with enchantments worthy of an ancestral fortress.

Then, with the serenity of one who calculates every decision, he asked a question he had been holding back.

"Kravix... How much did the complete restoration of the mansion really cost? Including the magical protections, structural reinforcements and the security systems you mentioned to me earlier?"

The goblin did not hesitate. He knew the time would come.

"The total amount comes to five hundred thousand galleons."

Aurelian raised his eyebrows calmly, not looking surprised. He knew the defenses he'd had installed were not common... but he also didn't think they would border on the level of an armored magical fiefdom either."

"And how was it that we paid for it?"

Kravix smiled proudly.

"We didn't pay for it... at least not yet. I financed it through magical promissory notes with Gringotts, signed for five years. The rate is favorable, especially for a figure with your profile. Given the return on your assets, the projected growth in your investments will easily exceed that amount before the term expires."

Aurelian did not respond immediately. He analyzed. He calculated. He felt the real weight of what he was building.

"You trusted me before I had a single legal ownership..." he finally said "Why?"

Kravix looked him straight in the eye, unblinking.

"Because we goblins don't gamble. We only invest... when we've already seen the gold hidden beneath the surface."

Aurelian smiled with genuine satisfaction

"I'll make it worth your while, Kravix."

"I have no doubt about it, Mr. Gaunt."

____________

The enchanted carriage descended the hill with a soft whisper, barely leaving a mark on the cobblestones of the old village. Aurelian looked out the window at the magical little village sleeping on the edge of oblivion, amidst the perpetual fog of Little Hangleton County. Nothing seemed to have changed since the last war.

Narrow streets, floating lanterns, and stone houses with sloping roofs. Some with brooms leaning against the doors, others with cats watching from enchanted windows. The few wizards who saw him pass looked away, as if sensing that this carriage belonged to no ordinary person.

Stinky sitting in front of him said not a word. His expression was solemn, as if every meter they advanced was a step towards a sacred ground.

The carriage crossed a forest thick with weather-twisted trees and turned onto a path hidden behind a moss-covered wall. An enchanted iron gate opened with a faint green glow when it detected Aurelian's ring. Then, the carriage stopped.

They had arrived.

Before them stood Gaunt Manor.

Nothing remained of the old, gloomy Riddle Manor. What stood now was a stately edifice, dark and elegant, with an air of grandeur and ancient magic. Its walls were of carved black stone, weather and fire resistant, with inlaid silver filigree forming Parseltongue glyphs that pulsed softly with a light of their own.

At the main gate, flanking the great entrance arch, stood two colossal statues of basilisks. Their coiled bodies cast an imposing shadow over the threshold, their emerald eyes seemed alive. Each had a half-open mouth, as if they might awaken at any moment.

Aurelian descended from the carriage in silence. The wind from the hill ruffled his hair, as he looked up, for an instant, he felt that the entire history of his lineage, both shame and glory, was summed up on that structure.

He held out his hand. The obsidian ring he wore vibrated. A faint glow enveloped the gate.

The mansion recognized him.

The doors opened without a sound.

Inside, the air was warm and slightly charged with magic. The main foyer was a soaring hall, supported by dark columns covered with inscriptions. Antique Burgundy rugs stretched across a floor of burnished black marble. Torches hovered lit without real fire, casting a soft light that cast no shadows.

The interior was magically expanded, Kravix had explained to him earlier. Ten times larger than it appeared on the outside. It boasted residential wings, library, training room, laboratories, hidden greenhouse and more. All protected by goblin enchantments, ancient runes and reinforced containment seals.

They climbed the dark oak stairs, whose carved banisters depicted the evolution of the Gaunt lineage in arcane symbols. The main hallway was decorated with portraits of unknown wizards. Some murmured among themselves. Others simply watched silently, as if they knew to whom that house now belonged.

Aurelian entered the central room, which would be his study. It had a huge fireplace, the ceiling was enchanted and showed the real sky, a semicircular library still empty, waiting for him.

"Here I will study. Here I will train. And here... I will write my story," he said quietly.

Stinky stood a few steps back, but couldn't help but let out a few discreet tears.

"Your mother... she would have wept with pride, Master Aurelian."

The young man nodded softly, his expression calm. He did not smile. He only observed.

Gaunt Manor was now his.

Not as a trophy.

But as a symbol of rebuilding and legacy.

And though the house held echoes of the past... it also seemed to beat gently to the rhythm of the future.