Chapter 208 - My CO Stash #8 - Victor Von Doom and the Vibranium Wand by Joe-Kerr (HarryPotterXMCU) (1/2)
-Young Victor Von Doom admitted to Hogwarts. Nuff' said
*Recently revived fic, was dead for a year!
Sypnosis: ???
Rated: ???
Words: 26K
Posted on: forums.spacebattles.com/threads/victor-von-doom-and-the-vibranium-wand-hp-marvel.515698/#post-33852499 (Joe-Kerr)
PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)
-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)
Will the wizarding world survive the antics of Victor Von Doom?
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Chapter 1
Cynthia Von Doom relaxed in her brand new kitchen sipping from a cup of tea with just a pinch, well alright, a generous amount of scotch. She sat on a chair admiring the modern technological marvel of cooking appliances that surrounded her. She was particularly enthralled by the burnished steel electric oven, and the milky white refrigerator. And of course there was the washing machine, oh marvel of marvels. Which could do by itself what usually took a whole morning of arduous and exhausting effort. The salesman had personally vowed on his own mother's grave that she'd never have to use a washing board again. Yes it truly was a marvel of luxury and modernity.
She'd burn it all down in an instant to get her Werner back.
She fought against the cold icy hand grasping at her heart, threatening to overwhelm her, she had to be strong, if only for Victor.
The memory of her only child helped dispel the terrible images that her husband's fate at the hands of the baron conjured. Yet, her gloom mood was exchanged not with calm, but anxiety, when she realized that the boy had been missing for a while now. Where had that rascal gotten to?
She stood and walked out the kitchen into the house's backyard, the moment she set foot outside, the sound of power tools coming from her shed, gave away her son's location.
She walked towards the rickety structure, initially a mere wooden cupboard for storing tools, it had been expanded by successive additions until it had become a fully functional workshop. Cynthia opened the door and saw the apple of her eye, her eleven year old son, working with a rotary saw on a piece of complex metal tubing.
”Victor, what are you doing?” she screamed over the din of the power tools.
The boy gave no indication of having heard, he continued working on the piece of metal he was cutting until he was satisfied with it. He then put down the saw and turned around while removing his safety goggles.
”Putting the finishing touches on my magnetic containment unit mother.” And with that he turned around again, replaced the heavy duty goggles over his eyes and grabbing an acetylene torch, resumed his work. ”I expect it to be finished today.”
”Oh okay, just try not to make too much noise, we don't want the neighbours complaining; again.”
”Science can occasionally be a noisy mistress mother, And I refuse to cater to the whim of simpletons who fail to recognize the sounds of my workshop symbolize the march of progress.”
”Alright Victor, but please, avoid any further explosions this time. I don't want to deal with the police, again.” She said, saddling the last word with a weary tone that was meant to convey just how displeased she would be if that indeed actually happened.
”I assure you mother, that incident was due to a completely unpredictable error, my calculations were perfectly accurate, the detonation was the result of faulty manufacturing processes over which I had no control.”
”Ok Victor, just, don't lose yourself in your work, we're having tea in an hour. Don't make me come fetch you,” and because the universe has somewhat of an unhealthy fetish for rules of three she finished the sentence with another, ”again.”
”Don't worry mother, I expect to be done within that time period.” the boy said while soldering the metal tubing before him.
Cynthia sighed and after closing the workshop's door walked back to the kitchen. The boy could be a handful, but there was no denying his intelligence. What had that doctor called it, a 'polymath' was it? Whatever the term, Victor was a gifted child, before he was two he'd taught himself to read and now he was devouring college level textbooks about things called 'kwon-tum' physics and mechanical engineering and anything else he could lay his hands on from the public library.
And he was always building things, tinkering with whatever caught his fancy. At first it had been cute, he'd been working with gears and clockwork, it had seemed harmless enough and she'd encouraged him buying him a set of precision screwdrivers and the like. He'd been four then. Now Victor was working with bubbling chemicals and power tools and blowtorches and it didn't seems so harmless anymore.
She sat and resumed sipping her tea. How far away their old life seemed now. The days of travelling through the Latverian countryside on their wagons with the rest of their roma family. It seemed to her like memories of days long gone by.
It hadn't even been two years since they had been forced to flee Latveria from their failed insurrection against the baron. Her husband Werner had been arrested and identified as one of the leaders of the revolution and the baron had sworn to make all of his family suffer. Cynthia and her son had to flee their homeland, skulking through the border at night like criminals, which to the baron eyes they pretty much were. After a few months of wandering through Europe they'd finally found asylum in England.
It had been hard at first, settling down, finding a place for them. Money was hard to come by, but Cynthia Von Doom was a strong willed and resourceful woman, and beyond even that, she had some unusual abilities which she was able to monetize after a period of time.
For you see, Cynthia Von Doom was a witch of unusual power and talent.
Not that she really needed her powers, she'd used them at first, a mental suggestion here, a seemingly coincidental occurrence there. Once she'd gotten the ball rolling, word of mouth had gotten around and made her mysterious gipsy fortune-telling business a success. She told her customers vague prophecies over a crystal ball and sold colored water as love potions to lovesick men and women.
Well there was a little bit of magic involved, like that time he'd seen a glimpse of Mr. Flax injury, in the tea leaves of the cup he'd offered him (the crystal ball was bunk, the tea leaves was were the real fortune telling was at, but it was expected of her to have a crystal ball, so she obliged), and advised him to take a few days on holiday leave, which saved him from losing a limb when a piece of heavy machinery malfunctioned at work. Or the salve she made for poor old Henry Bailey, who suffered from a most insidious and itchy rash. Admittedly the salve had very little magic just a mixture of some herbs concocted under moonlight. But it still worked better than anything he could buy at the pharmacist.
Which had brought her into direct conflict with the British Ministry of Magic. Apparently, her little rash salve and other little things she made were magical enough to be considered a breach of the statute of secrecy. The accusations were ludicrous of course, but she happened to be a real witch, and she was telling the muggles' face that she was doing magic, even if technically there was no real magic involved. Things started to get heated and it seemed like she was going to face deportation. Until the night one of those death eater cultists decided to sneak in Cynthia's neighbourhood with plans of executing a massive muggle culling in the name of his Dark Lord. After she was finished with him, what was left of the idiot had a new Dark Mistress to fear.