Vicis

Chapter 3

He landed silently and with no small amount of satisfaction. That had been remarkably easy. He would stop using magic for now, he decided. It made things less interesting and more boring. What was the fun of sneaking into someone's house if there was no chance of them discovering you?

He realized he was already making plans for future sneaking into other people's houses. To do so at night was an easy way to get souls. It was private, everyone was asleep, and he was sure he could remain quiet enough to get away with it. Of course, if they woke up, he doubted they could fight him off. He doubted anyone could fight him off. Climbing the wall had been evidence enough that he was strong and agile.

How fast was he now, anyway? He hadn't properly tested himself at all. That wouldn't do. He needed to know his limits. Fighting would be difficult if he didn't even know what he could do. He might not know what he had to defend himself against here, but that did not mean he could grow lax. At least Voldemort couldn't get to him here, no matter how hard he tried. He was pretty sure this is late 19th century London. Time travel of this caliber shouldn't be possible, yet here he was.

He wished that he had paid attention when Hermione went on her rants about magic. Now he had no idea how this could be possible. All he could think was of time turners, and those could only go back, at most, a week. He certainly hadn't used one, so how was he even here?

He started running, not really sure where he was going. He didn't know what to do. He was tense, he realized. Perhaps he was more stressed than he had thought. The running felt good. The restless burn he hadn't noticed under his skin lessened slightly. He ran faster. Everything was a blur now. He really was faster than any human could manage, and he wasn't even running at his maximum speed.

He needed a place to stay. The easiest thing he could think of was to find a house, kill whoever lived inside, and stay there until someone noticed that the people were missing. The only problem was it would work, at most, for a week. Ideally he would find a hermit with no friends. The chances of that were slim to none.

He needed money. Enough money to buy or rent from someone. It wouldn't be too difficult to simply rent from someone. Identities were fickle things in this time. He could find a landlord who wouldn't care who he was as long as he paid. It wouldn't be difficult. The difficulty was money.

He would have to steal, then. He could easily sneak into houses, he had already proved that. It would be child's play to sneak into houses and steal valuables. He could sell it all to pawn shops. There were probably many that would buy them knowing they were probably stolen. Few pawn shops had scruples when it came to stolen things.

He continued to run, only stopping at the nicer looking houses and entering. He stole jewelry, money, fine clothing, anything of value. It was easy to slip in and out. In one of the houses, he picked up a black leather bag, knowing he would need something to put the valuables in.

In one house, he found the most unusual jewel he had ever seen. It was in the shape of a sphere, with no edges to be found. It was black on the outside, but within it held what appeared to be green smoke. It swirled and twisted inside the jewel. Something radiated from it, something he had never felt before. He could not help but slip it over his head. He would keep this one. It was undoubtedly magical, anyway. No muggle should have such a magical object.

Soon enough the night was over, and dawn was creeping up. He stopped, then, and looked at what he had stolen. It was enough, he thought, to get him enough for at least a month in an inn. That is, if he got fair prices. There was every chance whoever he tried to sell all of this to would try to rip him off. It would be rather easy. He had no idea what the going rates were for things like this. He would have to try, at least.