21 - To Hogwarts II [MKAV]

{The Hogwarts Express}

{1st September 1989}

After nearly 16 hours, and over a hundred loads, Matteo finally left his compartment.

With half a dozen cumdrunk maids, as well as numerous cum-stuffed assholes, throats and pussies (and one snussy) left in his wake, Matteo was finally satisfied. Despite the length of his 'session,' though, only thirty minutes had passed since he started.

Slow was such a useful spell.

His mind on cloud nine, Matteo decided that it was finally time for him to meet his cousin Nymphadora.

Matteo thought that the there might be some sort of assigned seating– maybe separating them by year, or something along those lines, but no. Everyone just sort of piled on, and they were allowed to roam around as much as they wanted. Despite it being less than an hour since they'd left King Cross Station, no one was up and about.

He found it somewhat odd, having nearly 1000 unsupervised children on a single train and not being able to hear a single one of them shouting or crying... but he didn't dwell on it. If Matteo was being honest, he preferred the calm.

He pushed open the door to Nymphadora's compartment.

"Is this cabin–"

"EEK!"

Fair skin, caramel eyes, and bubble-gum pink hair, Matteo watched on as Nymphadora jumped and flipped around, clearly not expecting anyone to open the door to her compartment.

He raised an eyebrow. "...hello?"

Matteo honestly didn't know why she reacted like that. Or why she was blushing. The witch wasn't doing anything she wasn't supposed to, she was fully dressed, and despite being a bit curvier than your average girl, she–

Matteo blinked. 'Oh. Right.'

Nymphadora was a metamorphmagus, so her current figure was the result of practice.

She had just been caught doing the magic equivalent of stuffing her bra.

Smiling innocently, Matteo asked, "are you alright?"

"U-Uh, yea– yes. I'm fine. Um, firstie, why are you...?" she trailed off hurriedly. Matteo's eyes glistened in amusement as he realized– Nymphadora was 'holding' her current figure, since that was how Matteo had first seen her. He idly wondered how much of the witch's concentration was taken up by her current hidden struggle.

"I was looking for a place to sit."

"But... it's been nearly an hour since we left...?" she asked, uncertain.

Which was true. Matteo had spent roughly ten minutes with the Black triplets... and then he roughly spent half an hour relieving himself.

Most, if not all, students had their own seats by now.

"I excused myself from my last guests," Matteo answered. "Nothing against them, they were nice girls, if not slightly unsettling. Their names were Noella, Alexandra, and Beatrice... cute, but just a little creepy."

Nymphadora balked, and Matteo had to stop himself from snorting.

"I... I see." she answered after a bit.

"But why are you so..." Matteo tilted his head, "lumpy?"

"LUMPY?!" she squealed, before spinning back and forth, looking down at her figure. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, I had it right earlier–" she stopped in her tracks.

Matteo grinned wickedly. 'Like a deer in headlights.'

"You..." she started. "You–!"

"It's my first time seeing a metamorphmagus in person," Matteo said absentmindedly, all while revealing that he knew what she was up to the entire time. "Nymphadora Tonks, I presume?"

"Ugh, don't call me that," she groaned, her face literally reddening like a tomato, her morphing trait only amplifying the effect.

Irritated, she continued, "you know me, firstie?"

"I do," Matteo said, amused. "I was actually going cabin to cabin and introducing myself to the scions of Wizarding families that interested me..." Which was technically true, since out of all the Wizarding families that were currently attending Hogwarts, Matteo only really cared for the Black family and its offshoots.

"And I guess I should do the same for you, Miss Tonks. The name is Matteo, Matteo Brooke."

"Oh..." she muttered in realization. "I thought you looked familiar, firstie."

Matteo then very subtly gestured towards the door. "Well... I don't really have all that much to else to say, Miss Tonks. I just thought I'd stop by, and seeing that I've already grown quite fond of the Black triplets, we'll probably seeing more of each other in the future," Matteo explained, slowly opening the compartment door.

"And I'll let you get back to... what you were doing."

Matteo closed the door, leaving the witch alone once more. It was only a few seconds after Matteo's departure that Nymphadora finally realized what he was implying.

She gritted her teeth, blushing.

"You–! You damn firstie...!"

***

Making his way to his third compartment of the trip, Matteo hummed.

'Metamorphmagi... it's really interesting.'

Just like being a Parselmouth, being a Metamorphmagus was a magical bloodline trait. That implied that the ability was based in genetics, but Tonks wasn't a mutant.

No, just like Parselmouths, Metamorphmagi were the product of a ritual lost to time.

And since it was based in Harry Potter Magic, it made things... weird.

'Brit Magic' was based in unorthodox observing and understanding– a certain plant is only useful one day a month, or a certain bean is better squeezed than crushed. One person makes an odd but true observation, and so everyone believes it.

Then that train of thought continued for thousands and thousands of years.

Not quite based in blood, not quite genetic, not quite spiritual, Metamorphmagi were a prime example of 'hoping it works.'

It was, frankly, the cruddiest magic that Matteo had ever seen.

It was nothing short of miraculous that the only side effect was a loss of equilibrium.

Parselmouths were far simpler, and with having only one real application– the ability was mostly genetic, but slightly spiritual. There was also a dissociation issue of hearing Parseltongue in your native tongue, but Matteo didn't have that issue. No, he had just 'mastered' the language to the point that he was essentially no different than a Parselmouth.

But Metamorphmagi... that was a trait that interested him. Despite the fact that he could already make slight alterations to himself, permanent ones even, there was a certain allure to being able to do so without even consciously activating magic. If Matteo were to apply it to himself, though, he would need to rework the ritual a bit.

Not that it would be hard for him.

"Hello dearie, would you like something off the trolley?"

Matteo blinked– lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed the trolley lady sneak up on him. Except... with Matteo's mastery over his own senses, along with the fact that he is never truly distracted, he didn't understand how she accomplished such a thing.

He furrowed his brow slightly. 'How the fuck did she...? Whatever.'

"Sure, I'll take a few things."

Matteo then spent a few minutes walking around the cart, picking out an assortment of candies and sandwiches.

"That'll be 9 sickles," she responded warmly.

"Here." With what could be considered a brilliant display of wandless magic, Matteo waved his hand, and the corresponding silver coins left his robes and gently landed in her outstretched palm.

"That was a neat bit of magic," she said, her voice tinged with awe. "I guess you'll be off to yet another cabin then, dearie?"

Matteo chuckled, turning to leave, "yeah, yeah. This will be cabin three of three, so no need to worry."

Then, with food in hand, Matteo leisurely strolled to what would truly be the last cabin of his trip– the one housing both Alicia and Angelina.

"Good," she responded, even though he was already leaving. "While I don't much like kids roaming the halls, I won't stop them from doing it. As long as you don't leave the train, I don't much care who you fight, curse, kill, or fuck..."

Matteo halted in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry?"

"When I sensed you casting foreign magics alone in your compartment, I nearly tore down the door to get to you... but it quickly became apparent you weren't trying to escape, but merely using your toys. As I said, dearie, as long as you stay on the train, I won't be doing much of anything..."

Matteo's anger spiked at his women being called toys, but he didn't act on it.

And sure, they might be his playthings, but they were still his. The only person allowed to treat or speak to his toys in such a manner was him, Matteo. As well as his other toys, if they were into that.

'Analyze.'

"You really like using wandless magic, don't you, dearie? Well as long as you don't attack me or leave the train, use as much magic as you want."

"What the fuck..." Matteo muttered under his breath. Despite looking like a typical sweet old lady, she– no, it was anything but.

The thing before him was a prime example of why magic was something to fear.

After spending countless years as 'the trolley lady,' to the point that anyone and everyone associated her with the Hogwarts Express, to the point that she had even forgotten her own name... she became one with the train.

It was a symbiotic relationship of sorts– the witch was now an extension of the train, and the train was an extension of her. That was how she was aware of what Matteo was doing, for he was literally casting spells inside of her. Funnily enough, the train also functioned as a Horcrux, making the trolley lady a better witch than Voldemort could ever hope to be.

But despite how interesting this all was, it left Matteo with a headache as he considered the implications.

'The Cursed Child...'

The shitfest of a screenplay, the book that J.K. Rowling herself claimed was canon, the abomination that no one in the Harry Potter fandom dared to speak of... that very thing was 'canon' to Matteo's universe.

Eyes closed, Matteo let out a deep breath, shaking his head. "No, this is fine, this is perfectly fine..."

Despite his annoyance at the revelation, there was no reason to worry. There was nothing in 'The Cursed Child' that Matteo couldn't handle with a wave of his hand, not that there was anything in the Harry Potter universe that could hope to compare to the horrors that could be found in both Marvel and DC.

But despite it not being a worry, contingencies were important. That was why Matteo was subtly keeping track of all the 'big players' that he knew of. He didn't care if he was up against aliens, mutants, wizards, gods, or even something as fundamental as time travel, he damn well wasn't going to let anyone or anything ruin what he had built for himself.

No, no one would ever be able to ruin it.

Matteo would make sure of that.

***

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