The Winds of Change

Toji Fushiguro, now Harry Potter, sat cross-legged on the cold floor of the cupboard under the stairs, his green eyes staring ahead, deep in thought. The Dursleys had left him alone for the most part today, which was unusual. Normally, they found some excuse to berate or shove him around. Maybe they sensed the subtle change in him, the quiet danger that simmered beneath his now-innocent exterior.

But the peace wouldn't last. Soon, the aunt and uncle would call him to do some mindless chore, and Harry—no, Toji—would comply, if only to avoid suspicion for now.

It had been a day like any other in this miserable house, filled with mundane chores and mindless cruelty. Toji had watched, observed, and learned. He saw the way the Dursleys treated Harry like dirt under their shoes, how Dudley sneered and whined, how Petunia would wrinkle her nose at him like he was a disease she was forced to tolerate. It reminded Toji of the Zen'in clan in his past life—arrogant, self-righteous people who looked down on anything they didn't understand.

Harry Potter had lived like this, day after day, for years. A life without power, without control. Toji could see it, clear as day now—this boy, raised like a caged animal, had been molded into something weak. Yet, there was a strength in him, too. A resilience, perhaps. But it wasn't enough.

As the hours passed, and Toji did his daily chores without complaint, he realized something that made him frown in disdain. Harry could have become like me. The kid had every reason to grow ruthless, to embrace strength and survival over weakness and submission. But the boy never had the one thing that had shaped Toji's own life.

The threat of death.

In his old life, Toji had been forced to confront death, face it, battle it, and live in its shadow. It was that constant threat, that relentless hunger to survive, that had forged him into the Sorcerer Killer. Without that drive, Harry had grown up meek. Too soft. He didn't seek strength for its own sake. He endured, sure, but that wasn't the same.

Toji, now in Harry's body, had no such illusions. His new life was precious because he had felt death's cold grip once already. And now, with this second chance, he wasn't going to squander it.

His previous life had been a desperate, blood-soaked struggle to prove his worth. Now? He had time. Four years until Hogwarts. Four years to grow stronger, to master magic, to learn about this world and its secrets. He had no cursed energy to draw on, but magic was just another tool. If he mastered it, along with his physical abilities from his heavenly restriction, he could surpass anyone.

But first, he needed to get out of this dump.

That night, as the Dursleys slept soundly in their rooms, Toji moved with silent precision. His heightened senses and natural agility from his previous life made the task easy. He had already planned this during the day. His footsteps were light as a breeze as he slipped into the living room, where he knew Vernon Dursley kept a stash of cash. It was pathetic—small amounts compared to what he'd seen in his old world—but it would suffice.

He pocketed the money, took a backpack from Dudley's room, and filled it with clothes, snacks, and water bottles from the kitchen. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he glanced back toward the sleeping Dursleys. Pathetic. They had no idea he was leaving, no clue they would never see him again.

As he crept toward the front door, Toji paused for a moment. He could have made this ugly. He could have taken revenge, easily. But what would be the point? The Dursleys were nothing to him. They weren't worth his effort. Let them wake up to their empty house in the morning and wonder what happened to their precious "freak" nephew.

He slipped out into the cool night air, the stars twinkling overhead like distant spectators to his newfound freedom. He took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of being out from under the Dursleys' control. This was his world now, and he was going to make it bend to his will.

He began walking, his mind racing with plans. The Leaky Cauldron. He remembered that much from the books. A hidden bar, a gateway to the wizarding world. If he could get there, he could access Diagon Alley, the magical market. He could get a wand, books, anything he needed to start learning magic.

The walk through the dark streets of Little Whinging was quiet, the only sound being the occasional rustle of leaves or a distant car. Toji had no trouble navigating; he had always been good at orienting himself, and even though he had never been here before, the street signs were easy enough to follow.

After a couple of hours, Toji found himself standing in front of a run-down pub on a busy street. The Leaky Cauldron. It looked shabby, like something ordinary people would ignore. And they did. He watched as a few Muggles passed by without even glancing at the bar.

He walked up to the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. The air smelled of old wood and ale, the dim lighting casting shadows over the small group of patrons scattered around the room. No one paid him any mind.

Toji made his way to the bar, where a bald, wrinkled man stood, wiping glasses with a rag. Tom, the barkeep. He remembered him from the books, too.

"I'm Harry Potter," Toji said quietly, making sure only Tom could hear. The man's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but then he nodded, understanding.

"Keep it secret," Toji continued, his voice calm but carrying an edge of authority. "I want to surprise the wizarding world later. For now, I need a room and some help getting into Diagon Alley."

Tom nodded again, quickly and efficiently, as if he had been waiting for this moment all his life. "Of course, Mr. Potter. Your secret's safe with me."

Toji felt a satisfied smile spread across his face. Everything was falling into place.

Tom led him through the back door and out into a small courtyard. With a few taps of his wand, the brick wall shifted and folded in on itself, revealing the entrance to Diagon Alley. Toji's sharp eyes took in the sight of the bustling market street, filled with shops selling every magical item he could imagine. Wands, potions, spell books—all of it was here, waiting for him.

And so, he stepped forward, his mind already working through his next steps. He had key information, even if his knowledge of the books wasn't complete. He remembered enough. He knew how things worked here, knew the players, the dangers, and the opportunities.

This world didn't know it yet, but Toji Fushiguro, the Sorcerer Killer, was about to rewrite its rules.

Harry Potter might have been shaped by neglect and mistreatment, but without the ever-present threat of death, he hadn't become ruthless like Toji had. Now, with his new identity, Toji would build the strength he'd never had time to achieve in his old life.

Four years until Hogwarts.

Four years to become unstoppable.

Toji smirked as he walked through Diagon Alley. This time, he was playing the long game.

And he had all the time in the world.