Unknowingly, The Shit Had Hit The Fan Years Ago…

September 1977

New Hope Orphanage, London.

"Good Night, Alex"

Whispered Sarah; just before closing the door to Alex's room, taking a last look at him for this disaster of a day.

The room was on the first floor of the orphanage. It wasn't a large room, but it allowed enough space for a few people, especially children, to live comfortably. There weren't many decorations inside the room; the blue walls had a few pictures hanging on them, depicting various landscapes, sceneries, animals, or anything a child could like. At a corner adjacent to the door to the room, sat a plain-looking wardrobe filled with the possessions of the four residents of the room. Aligned along the windowed wall, opposite to the door, were four child-sized bed, which were currently being occupied by the said residents of the room.

The bed placed at the diagonally opposite corner to the door of the room was the one on which Alex was lying unconscious. Or so he wanted others to believe, because just after a few moments of the door being closed, his eyes snapped open, showing within, the anxiety, powerlessness, fear, and a smidgen of excitement he was feeling due to the situation he found himself in.

"F*ck…"

He couldn't help but swear for the first time in his new life. The situation he had found himself in deserved much more than that, but the presence of others in the room was the last straw that was preventing him from swearing up a storm or bringing about destruction in the room.

He'd reincarnated into the f*cking Harry Potter world.

Don't get him wrong, he'd been a great fan of the book series. It wouldn't be wrong to say that he'd literally grown up watching the Harry Potter movies in his last life. He'd even dreamt about being a part of such a fantastical world filled with phoenixes, dragons, unicorns, and other mythological creatures. But all of that was nothing compared to what being a part of a resident, small, secluded, and somewhat bigoted society of wizards offered.

Magic.

The indefinable force of nature present in this world. After all, if magic could be defined, wouldn't it lose the very trait which makes it so magical?

Every child, while growing up, must have at least once desired to wield this mysterious power, to see the extent of its abilities. At least he did. So being reincarnated in the world of Harry Potter should have been a dream come true for him. He should've been vibrating in excitement after seeing the proof of him being magical; after all, he was able to see the Leaky Cauldron earlier that day. But, a single little piece of information dampened his excitement.

'Why did it have to be f*cking 1970s?'

He was shaking alright, but it was out of fear and he had every right to be afraid. Unknown to him, shit had hit the fan a few years ago. The British wizarding world had been at war against a man considered to be the greatest Dark Lord of all times, Lord Voldemort, for a few years now. The same Dark Lord had a habit of torturing non-magical people (muggles) for shits and giggles. How could he not be afraid when a single bout of bad luck can bring Voldemort and his merry band of bootlicking, murdering, psychopaths to his orphanage for a little playing time? After all, that psychopath does have a dislike for orphanages due to his experiences in his youth.

Alex, for the first time, found relief in the fact that the orphanage was away from the hellhole that was London at the present time. Not that a little distance could stop wizards, but it certainly lowered the chances of being targeted. Suddenly, he recalled something and his thoughts came to a stop.

'I may be safe, the orphanage may be safe, but what about Sarah? She goes to London every other weekend to shop for necessities for the orphanage. What if something happened to her?'

That thought froze the blood flowing through his veins. Sarah was like a big sister to him, the only person he could, without hesitation, claim as a family. Sure, there were others present around him whom he really liked, but they were all temporary relations; all the children at the orphanage and the staff will leave sometime in the future, only Sarah will remain a permanent part of his life, his anchor to this new life. He didn't know, nor did he want to know of what will become of his life if he lost her somehow.

Therefore, the thought of some despicable low life, with dreams of grandeur, bringing harm to his only family set his blood boiling. His body, which was earlier shaking in fear, was now trembling with unprecedented fury. So immersed he was in his anger that he didn't see the quivering of picture frames that were hanging on the walls. Only hearing the dull sound of the wooden frame hitting the carpet-covered floor did bring him out of his thoughts. He then sat there, staring in confusion, at the fallen picture frame for a few moments before his eyes widened in realization.

'Was that accidental magic?'

He let out a wry laugh at the irony of the situation. He'd just performed accidental magic, after becoming aware of him being a wizard. He sighed wistfully.

'Only if it had happened a few years ago…'

Despite the tense situation, he couldn't help but feel a little elated at that little magic he'd unknowingly performed. But, like a bucket of cold water, the thought of the British Ministry of Magic, or, god forbid, some Death Eater detecting this outburst of magic, doused the momentarily reignited embers of his happiness. His body stiffened; he rigidly got up from his bed, walked towards the nearest window, and started looking warily out of the window, at the gate of the orphanage.

Time trickled by slowly; every breath of his became laborious as stood by the window, attentively looking for any kind of activity. He breathed a sigh of relief only when about fifteen minutes had passed without anything happening. Perhaps that little outburst was not detected, or perhaps both, the ministry and the death eaters were too busy fighting the war to care for a magical outburst so far away from London.

'Or perhaps, as stated in various fan-fictions in my last life, the wands really do trace the use of magic.'

He seriously hoped for the last conjecture to hold true. Whatever the case, he was safe for now. Even so, he stood by the window for ten minutes further, just to be sure. When he became fairly assured that no one from the wizarding world was coming, he turned and dragged himself to his bed.

As soon as he sat on his bed, the rollercoaster of his emotions, which was showing no signs of stopping, once again began its free fall, causing a sinking feeling to rise in his stomach in worry for the safety of everyone at the orphanage, especially Sarah. He couldn't let them be hurt for the amusement of some bigoted low lives with god-complex. He had to do something. He must do something.

'But what?'

What can he do? What can an adult in a child's body do? He wasn't some chosen one, nor was he born with the soul of a phoenix, body of a dragon or any of those bullshit broken abilities of the main character of a wish-fulfillment novel. Hell, he didn't even know that he was being reincarnated at the time of his death nor did he know about being born in a magical world until a few hours ago. If he'd known earlier, he could have at least gained a little ability in wandless magic.

Feeling that his emotions were once again getting out of control, he quickly tried to calm himself down.

'Calm down, calm down…'

He told himself while taking deep, calming breaths. Whining about the situation wasn't going to take him anywhere. He had to remain calm and think for the solution to this problem he found himself in.

'For my sake, for the sake of Sarah and everyone at the orphanage, think…'

He had to make do with whatever he had; he must use everything available to him to keep everyone safe. After all, it was still September of 1977, and according to what he'd read in his last life, the war had continued till October 31st of 1981. There were still a little over four years left.

All he had at the moment was, knowledge of the possible future, the body of a child with undiscovered potential, and the mind of an adult housing the said body.

'Seriously, if cuteness could've killed, I would've murdered all those inbred psychos…'

He laughed dryly at his ill-timed, morbid sense of humor. He then sat silently on his bed, seriously considering all the possible, even if somewhat illogical, solutions to ensure the safety everyone dear to him for the next four years.

He'd read a lot of fan-fictions on Harry Potter in his last life. Each of them had some unique ideas, some unique views in which they had depicted this magical world. Even if a lot of them sounded moronic and many of them had made it seem like a millennium or two years old society was composed of nothing but idiots, it wouldn't hurt to try them. Beggars can't be choosers. Sure, he might be seen as an oddball on doing some of those things, but most of the people around would dismiss it as another quirk of an already quirky child. If it could save his family, he wouldn't mind dancing naked on the street in front of the orphanage; especially because, as a child, he could get away doing many things.

"What if they don't work?"

He murmured. Too many lives depended on him. He couldn't just bet all his chips on a single hope that at least some of those methods would work. He must find other options to depend upon in the worst-case scenario. After thinking for a while, he'd decided on a few steps he must take to achieve at least a minimal sense of safety, if only for a short period of time. He could plan for the long term later.

Firstly, he must prevent Sarah from going to London alone. He needed to tag along with her for her usual scheduled trip a fortnight later because even if he was currently pants at magic, he knew what to look out for. To convince her to allow him to go to London with her, he could, without hesitation, lay down his dignity, or whatever that remained of it, and use the accursed puppy-dog-eyes.

After all, even if cuteness couldn't kill someone, it sure had other uses.

On second thoughts, he must add practicing Occlumency, at least what he knew of it, to his schedule. Dying, then reincarnating followed by living as an infant didn't exactly leave his sanity unscathed. He still had minor bouts of insanity even after all this time. Probably, it was a coping mechanism. Joking about killing others with cuteness, in such a serious, situation didn't bode well for his mental health. He didn't want to end up like Sirius did in the Order of the Phoenix. He seriously didn't want joke around in the middle of a serious battle, and end up dying, as Sirius did.

'It isn't time for word-plays. Be Serious.'

He snapped at himself.

'Urgh…'

He growled in frustration upon realizing what he'd just said to himself. Once again, taking a few deep breathes, he calmed himself down and returned to plan for the future.

He only had two weeks to prepare before the next trip to London with Sarah. The only advantage his small body could provide him with was its small size, therefore, a relatively difficult target to hit with a spell. He must maximize this advantage. He had to start doing light exercise to build up his stamina; start stretching, to enhance the already flexible body of a child; start practicing acrobatic moves like forward rolls, backward rolls and sideward rolls, handstands, cartwheels, and everything else to increase his mobility. He had to do all that without getting heavy injuries like broken bones; smaller injuries like fine line fractures and bruises could be quickly healed passively by magic.

The other physical advantage he'd was his age. As a child, he would be underestimated, therefore providing him with the element of surprise. A perfectly aimed attack, even of the physical kind, could do some serious damaged to an ill-prepared assailant and was a perfect way to create a chance for escaping. His main objective, for now, was to ensure the survival everyone dear to him; the glory of bringing down some criminals can wait for the future.

Another advantage he had was his mental age of almost twenty-five. He hoped that being older, and thus, having greater comprehensive abilities, could help in the aspect of wandless magic. If possible, he wanted to be able to perform at least the stunning spell, Stupefy, by the end of two weeks. If he was successful…

"Hehe… hehehe… hahaha…"

He laughed darkly. Failure, while disappointing, wouldn't at least worsen the situation. Success, on the other hand, would make the situation a lot more fun. For him, that is. Curses like Bombarda, Confringo, Sectumsempra, and Expulso could wreak havoc on the unwary and deal some hefty damage.

Finally, if possible, he wanted to try apparition. Harry had apparated to the roof of his school building to escape from bullies. He should be able to do the same after some trial and error. He risked splinching, but a skill like teleportation was too much of a temptation for him, especially as a way to escape from a dangerous situation.

He was brought out from his planning by the rays of early morning sunlight, seeping through the windows, hitting his eyes. Realizing the arrival of dawn, he got up from the bed and started making his way towards the bathroom downstairs. On the way to the bathroom, he thought,

'Maybe I should start with occlumency. That villainous, dark laughter a few moments ago doesn't bode well for my state of mind. Hopefully, occlumency will help…'