The American Wizarding World Part 1-II

*I placed names before dialogues to prevent any confusion*

December 23 - 4:30PM

*Tom / Draco's P.O.V.*

I felt myself regain consciousness, waking up to a blur of words I couldn't focus on.

Where am I?

"- - - -ye - -. - find- -."

"- - -Potter!- - -the- - ."

What?! Bloody Potter? My eyes flash open, opening up to the burning sensation of bright lights.

I immediately closed them once more, hissing at the pain. I tried opening them again, this time I slowly open my eyes, letting them adjust to my surroundings.

At first I could only see white blurs of colour, but my vision slowly cleared up. This happens quite frequently nowadays, losing consciousness and waking up to an unfamiliar room. I shouldn't be making a habit of it lest I become Potter. Now where is that git? I look around, but what I see isn't Potter.

White tile ceilings, white sheets, green cloaked woman, brown haired man in auror robes?

I blink and did a double take, focusing on the man and the woman chatting at a distance from me. I didn't see incorrectly. The stern looking woman was a mediwitch, provided her robes were her own. And those are most definitely Auror robes. While the woman was tall and had black hair and just as dark colored eyes, the man had an average height, light brown untamable hair and hazel eyes.

Potter: "- -hav- - you see-. - - - here to see the boy. And please Cecilia, pl- call me Samuel - - when we were still in school."

That man must be the Potter she was calling out to since they're the only ones here.

Cecilia: "- - - stop - - informal while working. - - -, he is quite peculiar. Wilkinson and Graves brought him in around noon, he was suffering from magic exhaustion, but now he's fully recovered. It should certainly have been impossible but I've never had such a case with one so young before. His youth should have played a role in speeding up the healing process. Though- there was some trouble, but I was able to heal every wound on the child. There shouldn't be any scarring."

Magic exhaustion; am I in the wizarding world? In a wizarding hospital?! With wizards and witches! I thought I had to wait until I was 11 since I never knew where the entrance to the wizarding world was in America.

Potter: "What sort of trouble was it?"

Cecilia: "Well, most of the damage done on his body was unlike any I've seen before. Nasty internal bleeding and fractured bones without any sort of bruise or indication of a hex. He was also burning up. It was as if his body decided to self-destruct. And at first, every single spell cast around him disappeared like mist. I was worried I'd turned into a squib, but it happened to everyone."

Potter: "It disappeared you say?"

Cecilia: "Indeed. After a few potions though everything returned to normal. Wasn't the first abnormal case I'd handled, they come in at least twice a day after all."

I wasn't hallucinating, thank god! But where am I? What am I doing here? Am I still in Malibu?

Potter: "Well that certainly is true considering my first trip to Ilvermorny clinic. One wrong wave of the wand and I grew foot long feathers from my nose!"

The mediwitch chuckled as if holding back a laugh

Cecilia: "I remember it as if it were yesterday, quite the charmer you still were even with pink feather sticking out of your nose. I still wonder how you never lost an admirer after any of your incidents."

Potter: "Once you know how to charm, you'd still be able to do it, no matter what the situation. -"

I started zoning them out after coming to the conclusion that they no longer gave any useful information. I guess I'm in a hospital. . . again. I get up from the bed slowly, careful of any lingering pains from earlier.

Wait, earlier I was- I still haven't found him! I need to go back.

Just as I was about to stand, a heavy hand pushed me back down, preventing me from getting up.

Potter: "Woah, hold your horses boy. You're still recovering from the horrible state you were in when you were brought here. And I need to talk with you about a few things, as well as ask you a few questions. Nothing too hard. Now why don't you sit down for a while."

I glared sharply at the man trying to stop me from finding my father.

Tom: "I can't. I need to find my dad!"

Potter: "Your dad?"

Tom: "Yes Tony, Tony Stark. Ironman! I need to find him before they do."

Potter: "Tony Stark? I didn't know he had a son. Well it has been some time since I last read the No-Maj paper. Now who are 'they'?"

Well that is plausible since I rarely left the house, and when I do I'm usually with Pepper. But No-Maj? What in Merlin's dusty beard is a no-maj?

Tom: "What's a no-maj?"

Potter: "Well sport, No-Maj is a term we use to call people with no magic. I'm sure strange things have happened around you when you're sad, happy, or angry. That's because you have magic, you're a wizard!"

I stared at the man with expectation in his eyes, but slowly it was dwindling. Is he expecting something? . . .

Right! The great reveal of magic to mudbloods! He thinks I'm a mudblood. But I'm not a mud- . . . I'm not a mug-... I'm not a no-maj born. However, it would be strange in my circumstances if I tell them that. They could do a background check on me and I would have no way of explaining why I know certain things.

But reacting with awe would be too late now.

Tom: "Are you alright? Is this part of a TV show joke you are doing on the children of rich people? If so it's not funny anymore. I demand to see my father!"

Potter: "Ah yes. You don't believe me. However, I must regretfully say that it is not a joke. We'll help you find your father, but you have to help us first. Now, who are these 'they' you are talking about?"

I smiled inwardly to myself. He bought it.

Tom: "Them. The people who blew up our house with missiles!"

Potter: "Missiles?!"

I certainly don't want to waste any time explaining myself to these people but the more people searching for my dad, the better. I need to know if he's useful or not.

Tom: "Do you promise?"

Potter: "Promise what?"

Unbelievable, are all Potters such dunderheads?

Tom: "Promise to look for my father?"

Potter: "Yes, I promise."

I searched for the honesty and commitment in his eyes, smiling once more to myself as I found it. Surprisingly it wasn't that hard and didn't take long to find as I saw that same conviction in another irritating Potter's eyes almost everyday in my past. I nodded my head and continued.

Tom: "Yesterday, our house was attacked by terrorists. They were riding helicopters and attacked us with missiles, propelled precision-guided munition systems carrying explosives. Pepper, Maya, and I were able to escape but I blacked out before I could see my father get out as well. He's out there somewhere, I know it. I have to find him!"

Potter: "A propelled what?"

Tom: "A flying bomb!"

Potter: "I know what missiles are boy, I just couldn't imagine anyone targeting a child with them."

Oh, I thought he was asking. Never mind, doesn't matter.

Tom: "They didn't target me with it. They targeted my dad. I can't waste anymore time talking, we need to find him or he will be in danger!"

Potter: ". . . This morning, you were looking for him."

Tom: "Yes, I was."

Potter: "You can't keep doing what you did. Do you know what happened to your body?"

Tom: "Yes I-"

I ran out of magic and probably damaged the pathway of magic in my body to a great extent. But I can't say that, can I? He thinks I'm mugglebor- no-maj born. I can't believe I almost made a slip, especially as a slytherin. I'm becoming too rash and acting before I think, almost like a- . . . A gryf-fin-dor. How repulsive.

But he's right, I can't keep acting like this. I keep regretting the countless times I'd failed or lost something because I didn't act fast enough. And now, to ensure it doesn't happen again, I've forgotten to think things through before I act.

A snake who has completely forgotten how to act like one is worse than a lion.

Now what have I done wrong?

Tom: "How did you find me? No one knew where I was."

Potter: "We were alerted by wandless magic use in a heavily populated no-maj area. Then we stayed and looked out for any unauthorized magic use in the city. We knew where you were the very next time you used magic after the junk shop."

So my very first action had already been wrong. I shouldn't have gone to the shop. I should have brought money. There are countless things I failed to do because of my recklessness. Be that as it may, there is still one think that I can't place a finger on. Why does it seem as if they sensed only the magic used in the junk shop and the mansion? Didn't they sense the magic I used in the hospital? There was also that woman, was she not muggle? Did they find and obliviate her?. . .

Could the hospital be warded? Maybe there were a lot of wizards there and so my magic use was camouflaged. I should find out next time- . . . I sighed. Just after rebuking myself for being impetuous, I go and plan out the next 'great adventure' (note the sarcasm).

Potter: "You don't sound like a kid who first learned of magic."

Tom: ". . . My dad fought aliens and is teammates with a mutant, a god, a really old guy who looks to be in his 20's, an assassin, and a . . . man with a bow. Never mind the last person, but I think I gave my point."

Potter: "Touché. Well then does this mean we have a deal? I'll have my men track down your father and you answer all my questions. No lying."

Tom: ". . . Deal." I just need to tell him half truths.

Potter: "Alright first I need you to tell me your name and if you already knew of magic before today."

Tom: "Tom. Tom Stark. And- I've known about my powers all my life."

Potter: "You have? Who taught you? Did you tell anyone?"

Tom: "I've never had any teachers for my past 7 years, I've been practicing it on my own. I never told my dad nor Pepper since they were rarely home."

I masked the growing smirk on my face seeing his surprise and pity. Just like Saint Potter to pity and try to save everyone he meets.

Potter: "Oh well, how about your friends?"

Tom: "I don't have any. I'm homeschooled."

Potter: "I'm sorry. I mean, hey, I could be your friend!"

What? Barmy old man.

Tom: "I don't want you to. You're old. People your age should be getting friendly with working women, not 7 year old boys."

At the corner of my eye, I could see the offended yet amused expression of the man and behind him the stern mediwitch who wanted to reprimand me. (Who looked eerily like a possible relative of Professor Mcgonagall)

Potter: "Where did you learn such things?"

Tom: "From my dad."

I inwardly grin at the dumbstruck conflicted man. I wait for a few seconds for the man to continue his questioning but silence permeated the room.

Tom: "Are the questions done? Then let's look for him."

Potter: "You got me there kid. Alright, let's go."