Готовый перевод One Piece The Ship of Lust / Корабель хтивості: Волшебное путешествие8
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Гарри Поттер
Волшебное путешествие
Автор:
FictionOnlyReader
Следуйте за Куинном Уэстом в его волшебном путешествии,
который попадает в мир Гарри Поттера, но является ли мир, в
который он попал, таким же, как тот, о котором он когда-то читал?
Сможет ли он найти свой путь в этом новом мире? Сможет ли он
когда-нибудь почувствовать себя здесь своим? Какую возможность
предоставит ему магия этого мира? Прочтите, чтобы узнать...
[Реинкарнация] [SI OC] [Поздний роман]
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– Опубликовано:
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331. Chapter 331: Invitation
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
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The elevator bell rang as the door opened.
Quinn stepped out into the inner corner of the Ministry central Atrium,
ground floor. He stretched his legs on the very tip of his toes. The
Ministry, like usual, was full of people coming in and out, going about
their busy day among a crowd of similarly busy people.
He glanced back to see the elevator door close. He had just finished
giving the last of his three-day NEWT period, conducted right in the
heart of the Ministry— in the Department of Magical Education's office
space redesigned to be an exam center.
He took out a piece of parchment from his pocket. It was the admit card
to be shown to the security guard for visiting the Ministry for the three-
day examination period. Quinn stared at the printed parchment. With
this, he was finally over with his Hogwarts education. The seven-year leg
of his life was over— the castle, AID, the Cursed Vaults, the Room of
Requirements, AID, the classrooms, the grounds. . . everything had come
to a full stop, period. The only thing that had remained was to receive his
NEWT certificate and his graduate degree.
"Ah. . . Quinn, is that you?"
As he was putting the rolled-up parchment back into his pocket, Quinn
heard the voice calling to him. He turned towards the source and saw
James Potter, in the typical Auror clothing— a suit sans the
accompanying overcoat/topcoat because it was the prime of summer.
". . . Auror Potter," said Quinn in greeting.
"You know," James pursed his lips and eyes, "I can count on one hand the
people who call me Auror Potter or Auror James outside of the formal
setting. I appreciate you using the proper title and all, but you can call
me Mr. Potter or Mr. James if you'd like."
"It has become a habit," said Quinn with a polite smile, "I will keep it in
mind moving forward."
James smiled. "So, what brings you to the Ministry today?"
"I just got finished with my NEWTs, actually. The last one."
"Oh, right! I remember hearing that they were conducting the OWLs and
NEWTs in the Ministry. I saw the Education Department guys running
around— those guys are only used to taking care of WOMBAT in the
Ministry."
Quinn nodded. The theory examiners/proctors were really prickly and
nervous around the Hogwarts students; they were clearly not used to
handling school students.
"Harry was bouncing on his feet when he got the official letter that his
exams had been canceled. Even Ivy was relieved about having to give
exams— I think Hermione psyched her out about the exams," laughed
James.
He smiled and looked Quinn up and down, "So, done with Hogwarts,
that's a big deal. I heard from Lily that you got made Head Boy, which
means Dumbledore is going to sign that recommendation for you, and
believe me, that really opened the doors— it did to the Auror Office for
me.
What are your plans for the future, son?"
Quinn held back a groan. He wasn't sure James would want to even think
about the word — 'son' — while anywhere near him if he knew that he
was dating his daughter. Especially if he heard the exact of the
relationship.
"I have an apprenticeship lined up, starting next year." As Quinn said
that, a dong banged up in his head. 'Ah, shit! I need to write to Mr. Alan.
. . well, he can wait a couple days; he's on a beach anyway.'
"Oh, in what? Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, or maybe Potions."
"Mind magic."
James was visibly surprised by Quinn's choice of further study. "You want
to become a mind-healer?"
"No, nothing like that," said Quinn. "I live at the top of a massive
conglomerate and thus a very valuable asset for anyone who would want
to get their hand on my family wealth. It is imperative that my mind is
well-protected for the sake of not only my family but also a sizeable
population of the world."
James finally showed an expression of understanding, but then Quinn
knew what the initial surprise was all about.
Mind magic, or at least, Occlumency, was an extremely valuable skill for
anyone wanting to protect that mind, and it was perfectly justifiable to
learn that skill, even excel in it, and admirable to become progressively
better at it. But the other side of mind magic, which didn't delve into the
protecting part, came with an attached stigma. People were naturally
averse to the individual they knew could read their minds.
"But even without that, I would love to learn more about mind magic,"
said Quinn with an apologetic smile. "Getting to know my way around
the inside and out of the mind is the first step to better know myself,
don't you think."
Despite the attached stigma, Quinn didn't have any qualms about letting
people know about his intentions to learn mind magic. Even if it was the
father of his girlfriend. . . especially if it was the father of this girlfriend.
There was a silence between the two, so Quinn decided to change the
topic. "I heard about the attack on the prison transport. Last I heard, the
investigation was still ongoing. Has there been any new leads on that
front?"
James shook his head with pursed lips. "I can not divulge any
information; the investigation is still ongoing."
Quinn didn't need any facts. The Senior Auror's expression gave the not
so unfavorable truth of the situation. It seemed the night raid had been a
little too successful.
"Did the Dark Lord at least make an appearance?"
This time he did get an answer in the form of a compact shake of the
head. Quinn had many more questions to ask, but it seemed that if he
asked anything else, it would only serve to dull the Auror's mood.
"You know. . . I think you'd be a great fit in the Aurors Office," said
James suddenly, his eyes shining as he stared at Quinn. "You said you're
going to your apprenticeship next year, right? How about you gave being
an Auror until then," he stepped closer, "I am sure you'll find it right up
your alley, I will even make myself your mentor— don't underestimate
being under a Senior Auror like myself; it comes with its ample perks—
how about it!"
Quinn took a step back. The sudden burst of excitement was a little too
sudden. He was even sure that he heard a mutter about this being enough
for a promotion.
"Err. . . "
Before Quinn could say a single word in reply, a growling voice spoke
from behind him.
"What is this Potter! The Auror Office hasn't fallen enough that it needs
to act like a girl peacock spreading its plume for mating."
Quinn turned back and was found himself staring at an electric blue
artificial magic eye on a scar-riddled face staring at him. He stared at the
man well-named as Alaster "Mad-Eye" Moody. The man had one good
eye, grizzly scars, and a chunk of his nose missing. The veteran Auror
even had his other trademark, the wooden leg that looked like a vicious
animal's claw.
"It's actually the male who has the plume, not the peahen. . . or the girl-
peacock."
Quinn turned his eye to the young woman beside Alastor Moody. She had
a pale heart-shaped face and dark twinkling eyes with short, spiky pink
bubblegum hair, which, as Moody spoke, turned into waist-length violet
locks with red accents.
"Bah! Peacock-Peahen! Whatever," said Moody grumpily. "The Auror
Office should be the aim, the top of the mountain peak— not some
roadside wench that you could pick up for a night and forget about the
next."
"You're making it sound like I'm a prostitute," said James.
"You might as well be."
Quinn listened to the two talking with one ear, but his attention was
focused on Moody's companion.
"What?" she asked.
"I'm Quinn West," he said. "You're Nymphadora Tonks."
Tonks narrowed her eyes, her red accent growing darker. "I go by Tonks,
only Tonks. You know my name, so you must know. . ."
"Well, you aren't particularly hiding it."
When Quinn was in his first year, Tonks was in her seventh. At that time,
they were in two different worlds, so he never had any interaction with
Tonks— the most were walking by her in passing.
"So what? You want me to someone?"
Quinn shrugged, "Not really. I was just wondering if you do it some other
way than I do it." His hair which was jet black to its roots, suddenly
became more voluminous and took on a royal shade of blue.
Tonk's eyes widened, and the two bickering Aurors went silent. All three
pairs of eyes turned to Quinn as he spoke to Tonks.
"Natural talents like yourself are fascinating to me," Quinn matched
Tonk's hair color and even her slightly brightening skin tone as he spoke.
"Is the process the same? Or are the abilities granted by nature itself
somehow better than the ones created by us. . . . if I could somehow find
about how that instinctual magic of yours work, I would be able to
elevate my abilities."
"A-Are you a Metamorphmagus?"
"Not at all. It's just that copying what you do is not as hard as you think.
Though I have to say, unlike you, I can't do it instinctually without
thinking."
Moody's wooden leg clicked against the Ministry floor as he limped
towards Quinn. His magical eye swirled at Quinn, taking him from top to
bottom.
"Lad, are you lying about not being like the lass," asked Moody.
"Why would there be a need for me to lie," said Quinn, the color draining
from his hair as they returned to their original jet black. "It serves me no
good to hide something like this."
Moody hummed. He peered at Quinn as if trying to see through his
secrets. He then backed away, but his eyes were still focused on Quinn.
"Well," Quinn clapped, "as much as I would like to talk to you, very
interesting people, believe me, I would like to have some long
conversations with all of you, but I have to leave for today— maybe some
other time."
He nodded to James and then to Moody and Tonks before walking away.
"I take it back, Potter," said Moody.
"What?"
"If you can get that lad into the force, you can be a girl-peacock—"
"—just peacock."
"— I will whore myself out to the boy if I can get him to join the force."
Tonks and James looked surprised; they looked towards Quinn's
shrinking back.
"That's surprising coming from you, Moody," said James.
"That lad never once took out his wand," said Moody, "and yet, he was
able to do whatever Tonks could do— or at least a part of it. If he could
do that without a wand, then just think what he could do with one. . . if
what I am thinking is true, then we could be looking at a future
Dumbledore—"
James sucked in a breath, and Tonks gasped.
"— or maybe another Dark Lord."
"Moody," James frowned, "isn't that too much?"
"He's a pureblood, correct?"
"So are both us, what does—"
"He's young and impressionable," Moody cut him off, "and unlike you, he
wasn't part of a faction. He's a West, above from factions— but not
detached from them— he could be pulled down into one. . . it's the
question of which. . . . or maybe into something else."
Both of Moody's eyes stared at James, but there were no more words
spoken. He turned to Tonks and grunted, "Come on, lass. We are going to
the pits."
"Not the pits!"
James said a hasty goodbye to Moody and Tonks and ran to the Ministry
entrance, and was lucky to catch up just at the entrance.
"Quinn!"
Quinn turned and saw James running towards him. "Yes?" he asked.
"Would you like to visit for dinner?"
". . . What?"
.
Quinn West - MC - Top commodity
James Potter - Senior Auror - An invitation could be a start.
Alaster "Mad-Eye" Moody - Captain Auror - Semi-retired from active duty.
Mentor to a special asset.
Nymphadora Tonks - Junior Auror - Metamorphmagus.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
332. Chapter 332: The Second
Dinner
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
Patreón.
All the chapters would still be posted here, but you can support me with
a donation and get chapters earlier than usual as a bonus.
Link in the Bio/Profile
The space twisted and distorted like an old hag's wrinkles. There was a
pop, and Quinn appeared behind a tree near the township gate of the
little community of Godric Hollow.
He glanced around for the presence of a non-magical residence of the
hybrid township. Seeing that there was no one in sight, he stepped out of
the tree's shade and walked towards the gate under the guise of an
invisibility charm— it would be a bother to run into a non-magical
resident and become part of a conversation that would go nowhere,
ultimately ending in a confundus or obliviation charm.
The little township was the same as before, with the town church
sandwiched between the town square and cemetery and half of the
houses hidden from the sight of the unknowing residents who continued
to live their lives in a town that looked to be nothing out of the ordinary.
But today, Quinn could see something out of the ordinary. He swept his
eye on the paved street he was on. Quinn could make out several
individuals that shouldn't be there usually. Some were hidden under an
invisibility spell, and while Quinn couldn't tell who exactly they were, he
could clearly pinpoint their positions. Then there were few physically
hidden instead of magical invisibility, though these people did have
Muggle-Repelling Charms cast over them.
Quinn made a mental of his surroundings with the people he spotted, and
they seemed to be strategically placed around his destination.
Quinn reached his destination, the Potter House. He eyed the cozy
house(much more spacious on the inside) from a few paces outside the
property. He could feel a strong ward on the property— he could feel his
warding, a type of Aegis, on the property— and seeing that the Potter
House was protected by his ward was a relief to Quinn. He thought for a
second if he should check if there was a Goblin ward (which he
personally recommended to be set alongside Aegis) but decided against it
in case he alerted the owners of 'tampering.'
Before stepping through the ward boundary, he softly patted the front of
his sleeveless vest, and all of his clothes straightened out. He walked to
the door and knocked on the door from the attached door knocker.
The wait between the knocking and the door opening wasn't anything
lengthy, but to Quinn, it felt excruciatingly long and startlingly short, all
at the same time. It reminded him of the time he had visited Daphne's
house for the first time after they had started dating— he had been
cornered by Sophie Greengrass (whom he was told won't be present
during his visit.)
'No. . . I am prepared this time,' he thought and straightened himself.
'And they don't know that I'm dating their daughter.'
There was a faint sound of footsteps before the door swung open for
Harry Potter to appear in view.
"Right on time, or. . ." Harry glanced back at a clock hung just beside the
door, "oh, you're five minutes early. . . no wonder mum suddenly went
mad."
"Should I return after a while? You can pretend it was the milkman or
something."
"Or we can just wait here and talk until someone comes out looking for
us."
"That's fine as well."
"Did you really expect anyone to buy the thing about the milkman?"
"Hey, I was being polite. It's the sentiment that matters."
"What kind of milkman comes in the evening?"
"The imaginary kind, of course."
"We get our milk in the morning through the owl."
"A mishap in delivery then. It happens, you know."
"We got milk today."
"An extra package for being such loyal patrons. A little customer
appreciation can go a long way. Brand loyalty and all that jazz."
"But I don't have milk to show."
"You were thirsty and drank it."
"An entire bottle?"
"You're a growing boy; you can guzzle down a bottle. It might even go to
your height."
"Hey! Me being shorter than you doesn't mean I am short. You are just
really tall."
"Never said anything about you being short. That was all you, mate."
"You just don't want to admit that your suggestion was silly."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
As Quinn and Harry spoke to each other at the door, a voice from inside
the Potter House interrupted them.
"What are you two doing goofing at the door? Come in and shut the door
before the mosquitos come in."
Harry turned, and Quinn leaned to the side to get a look at Hermione
Granger peeking out from a room.
"Oh, you're here as well," said Quinn
"I am staying over," said Hermione. "Ron is here as well."
"That's nice," said Quinn. Before he entered the house, he turned to the
outside and waved over to the hidden people with a smile, who had
clearly moved from their initial places when he had revealed himself on
the doorstep of the Potter House.
"Who are you waving to?" asked Harry.
"To the milkman, of course."
". . . That's still going on?!"
Quinn followed after Harry and Hermione into the Potter House. They
led him into what he remembered to be the lounge, where he found the
other two of the golden squad waiting for him.
"Good evening, you two," he said, smiling.
Ron nodded in greeting. While Ivy responded with a "Good evening,"
accompanied with a bright smile.
Quinn continued to smile, keeping his brow from quirking. Had she
forgotten the conversation they had?
When James had asked Quinn to come to dinner, he had immediately
communicated with Ivy about it through MagiFax. But the problem was
that after the Hogwarts attack and the looming threat of Voldemort, the
Potter children weren't allowed out of their houses without adult
supervision. This meant that Ivy and Quinn couldn't meet face-to-face,
and they could get caught if they kept using MagiFax.
It was Ivy who remedied the problem before Quinn even brought it up. It
turned out that she was thinking about how to communicate better with
Quinn. She learned how to make the two-way mirrors James and Sirius
used in their Hogwarts days. She charmed two hand mirrors— something
she could do easily without getting pinged by the underage magic usage
trace on her wand as she was inside a magical home and a heavily
warded one at that. To keep the mirrors a secret, Ivy forwent owl-ing the
mirror to Quinn and instead sneakily dropped the mirror in a marked
corner of Godric Hollow, from where it was picked up by Polly, who
transported it to Quinn, with only three people knowing of the twin
mirrors existence.
"Your father asked me to come to your home for dinner," said Quinn,
surprised to have a two-way mirror in his possession just after the day he
got the invitation to the Potter House. He hadn't even told Ivy about it,
that's until now.
"What?!" Ivy exclaimed and instantly sat up in her bed. "How? When did
this happen?"
"Yesterday," said Quinn, ruffling the back of his head.
"And?"
"I accepted."
"Oh," Ivy sounded surprised and lost at words simultaneously.
"Yeah," said Quinn. He could've politely refused the offer, but if he had
done that, he would've not been able to meet Ivy for the summer. Sure,
even if Ivy didn't take the initiative to send the two-way mirrors, he
would've made something similar— but meeting face to face was
something he wanted to do, even if it was just once.
"So, we need to talk about how to act in front of your family," he said,
"that's if you want to keep it hidden."
Ivy nodded. She wasn't ready yet; they had just started going out.
"I say that we act normal, just like the last time I visited; I think that'd be
fine."
"You mean, you coming unexpectedly and I pulling my hair wondering if
you'd do something horrible."
". . . You and I have really different memories of that day. It was jolly fun
for me."
"Well, it wasn't for me. But I do agree about acting as if we are friends."
"I concur."
"Then, it's decided."
That was how Quinn remembered the conversation between them went.
But that smile on Ivy's face was definitely not something that would be
classified as normal— she could smile, but that was a little too bright. . .
and if he was being honest, he didn't mind it.
Harry and Hemione took a seat on a triple-seater. Ron was slumped on a
single-seater with his feet on a footrest. He turned to the other single-
seater in the room, but his eyes caught Ivy, who was lightly tapping the
empty space beside her on the double-seater where she sat.
Quinn stared at her for a moment before taking the seat where she asked
him to.
"Where's Ms. Potter; I would like to greet her," he said.
"Mum!" called Harry, "Quinn's here." He turned to Quinn, "She'll be here."
"Auror. . . Mr. Potter?"
"In the kitchen with mum, probably."
Quinn nodded. He watched as he saw Hermione and Harry get their feet
up the sofa and snuggle with each other.
"I did hear about you two getting together," he said. "It looks like it was
true." He had been occupied with his internal problems and keeping up
with who was going out with who wasn't on the top of his priority list.
Quinn glanced at Ron and found him looking at the couple from the
corner of his eye. He reached out with a feather-soft Legilimency probe,
and the feeling of green jealousy echoed through the probe. It seemed
that the resident Weasley wasn't psyched about his best friends getting
together.
"How's life after Hogwarts?" asked Harry.
Quinn retrieved his magic and turned to answer. "I don't know. I have
been at home, doing nothing special, to be honest. It just feels like any
other summer break. I guess I will know when I don't board the Hogwarts
Express on the First of September.
What about you guys? Any ideas for your final year?"
"We will be aiming for the Quidditch Cup," said Ron confidently.
Harry nodded, "Gryffindor is going to win, no doubt about it."
A smile appeared on Quinn as he dipped his head to hide it.
"What?" asked Ron.
Quinn shook his head, the smile still on his face.
"It's about Quidditch, so he most probably remembered something that
Carmichael said," Ivy supplied as she peered at Quinn.
Both Ron and Harry leaned forward. Harry immediately asked, "What did
he say?"
"Nothing, he said nothing, but he did do something that I did personally
find hilarious."
Ron and Harry exchanged glances before turning to Quinn with a
question in their eyes.
"The day Ravenclaw won the Quidditch Cup, Eddie sort of marked it. . . ."
"What do you mean?"
". . . he sort of engraved his name on the Quidditch Cup. . . well, to be
precise, he wrote: Eddie Carmichael— The Real Champion," said Quinn
and every pair of eyes in the room widened, "and I mean really engraved
it. . . he made sure you can't undo the engraving."
"We have to get a new Quidditch Cup," said Harry immediately while
Ron had his jaw hanging.
"You know it better than me that the Quidditch Cup is a tradition; it has a
long legacy behind it. . . I don't think McGonagall would replace it, even
with Eddie's name on it," said Quinn with a grin on his face. "He told me
that he'd regret missing the expression on your face when you saw it— I
guess I ruined your surprise, but at least now, I can tell Eddie my first-
hand experience about it."
A chime bell sound tingled inside the house. It sounded like some sort of
indicator as Quinn could feel that the sound was weaved with a hint of
magic.
Quinn turned to Ivy, "That was. . . ?"
"Someone came through the floo," she said.
There were heavy footsteps in the corridor beside the lounge. The sound
grew closer until the source entered the room in the form of Sirius Black.
The Senior Auror directly focused in on Quinn and sighed,
"You really gave everyone a scare, kid."
.
Quinn West - MC - I am confused. . . just a bit.
Ivy Potter - Potter Princess - Had fun creating the two-way mirrors.
Harry Potter - Boy-Who-Lived - Likes to banter at the door.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
333. Chapter 333: The Second
Dinner, Part Two
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
Patreón.
All the chapters would still be posted here, but you can support me with
a donation and get chapters earlier than usual as a bonus.
Link in the Bio/Profile
"You really gave everyone a scare, kid," said Sirius Black as he dusted the
floo-dust from his jacket.
"How do you mean?" asked Quinn.
"Don't act coy, kid," Sirius chuckled carelessly, but the curve of his smile
was modest, and there was a glint of seriousness in his grey eyes. "You
know what I am talking about."
"I don't think a simple wave of the hand would be something to freak
about."
"It wouldn't be if the recipient was expecting one, but they weren't, were
they."
"In my defense, they weren't well-hidden."
"So you say, but they got a scare when you suddenly appeared."
The Golden Squad looked between Quinn and Sirius, confused by the
ongoing conversation, and interjected by asking to be cued into the
conversation. But before either Quinn or Sirius could explain, James and
Lily Potter entered the lounge.
"You were coming today, Sirius?" said Lily in surprise. "What should I do?
I don't think we have enough food for another person."
"It's alright, dear; we have some dog chow. I'm sure Padfoot would be
satisfied with that," said James, smirking.
"Haha, dog food, haha," Sirius said to James. "Couldn't come up with
something remotely funny, could you."
"I found it ample funny," said James.
"It was hilarious, Sirius," Harry chimed, sharing identical smirks with his
father.
"I knew I should've gotten myself a little me," Sirius grumbled, "at least I
shouldn't have been double-tagged like this."
Lily sighed at Sirius, James, and Harry's antics before asking, "You
should've let us know that you were coming, I would've prepared
accordingly. . . . Let me see if I can make something with leftovers."
"It's alright; you don't have to do that," said Sirius. "I'm not staying for
dinner; I wasn't even coming today."
"Did something at the office?" asked James.
Sirus shook his head. He nudged his chin to Quinn, "Your little guest
surprised the people outside. If you hadn't told them you were having a
guest and the fact that Harry talked to him on the doorstep, things
could've gone poorly."
James and Lily turned to Quinn, who just shrugged.
"How did they miss him?" James asked; gone was the chipper tone
replaced by a serious tinge.
Sirius turned to Quinn and asked, "You want to take this, or should I."
"I was under an invisibility spell," said Quinn. "I mean, I wasn't going to
be walking through a hybrid village like this without some sort of guise
to keep the non-magicals away. It would've been troublesome if an overly
friendly chap decided to strike up a conversation."
"Justified," James turned to Sirius. "They should've detected him."
"I know; I'll plan some upgrades and make sure this doesn't happen again.
. . . But I am surprised that you were able to detect them at all," Sirius
said to Quinn.
"Not all of them were that obvious," Quinn crossed his hands. "I guess a
couple of them hadn't taken shadows and distortion into consideration
while casting. My eye caught the slight unnaturalness, and then I started
to look for more, making things more. . . transparent to me. But I guess if
I wasn't looking for them, it would be fine if the weak links were
strengthened."
"But that's the problem; those coming under guise will be looking for
those weak links," said Lily with furrow between her brows. "Sirius,
please ensure that this doesn't happen again. James, you as well."
Quinn glanced at Sirius. It seemed that he was in charge of the protection
of Potter House.
He felt a tug on his arm. He turned and found Ivy close enough that he
could make out the vibrancy and pattern in her emerald eyes. 'Ah, I am
really conscious of her,' such thought passed his mind.
"What is happening," she asked.
"I found people outside of your house, hidden under Invisibility Spells
and Muggle-Repelling Charms, and I spotted them. It seems that they are
keeping an eye on your house for protection." He turned to James and
Sirius, "Are they Aurors?"
"Sorry kid, can't tell," said Sirius, winking.
'So, Aurors who are part of the Order of Phoenix,' thought Quinn.
"There are people outside our house?!" Ivy exclaimed in surprise, along
with the rest of the Golden Squad. It seemed they weren't aware that they
had been under surveillance.
"It does make sense," said Hermione, "to have people keeping a lookout,
that is."
Quinn agreed. Unlike the general public, those connected to the Order of
Phoenix were well aware(and in acceptance) of Voldemort's return. It
was only natural to have people stationed outside the Potter House.
Quinn could even guess that if given a chance to examine the Aegis
wards, they would be the top-of-the-line and connected to the DMLE's
emergency response service. He looked around, also wondering if there
was a Labyrinth door hidden somewhere in the lounge— he was sure that
the Potters had one.
The situation, however, did make Quinn wonder if the Potters had lost
confidence in the Fidelius Charm. Having betrayed by someone who they
considered to be their closest confidant was an emotional hit that most
people won't want to go against ever again— so Quinn didn't put it
against the Potters to be averse against the use of the ward that had
promised them safety, but had resulted in the loss of dear family.
'Or maybe there's another safe house under the Fidelius, ready at a
moment's notice,' Quinn looked at the three adults, wondering if they
knew the location of the hypothetical location.
Quinn silently waited as the adults revealed the security arrangements
around the Potter House (the talk was short and only a rough overview,
given that Quinn was present in the room.)
"Alright, enough about this; we have a guest with us today." Lily put an
end to the topic.
"Then I will be off," said Sirius. "See you tomorrow, mate—"
"No, now that you're here, stay for dinner," said Lily. "I will sort
something out." She turned to Quinn, "Look at me, dear. You have been
here for a while, and we haven't even offered you anything to drink," she
gave a sharp glance to her children.
"It's alright, Mrs. Potter. The invitation to the dinner today gives me
another chance to try your fabulous cooking. I haven't forgotten the taste
from the last time I was here," said Quinn politely.
His words had their intended effect of instantly raising his affinity points
of likeability with Lily. The last time he had done this was just because of
fun, but this time the stakes were high, and he needed the Potter parents
to fall in love with him.
'I need to become the son they never had,' thought Quinn as he stood up
and took out a matchbox-sized box. He expanded it to its full size and
presented it to Lily. "This is just a little thank you gift for inviting me to
dinner today. It's set of cured meats and cheeses, and there's a bottle of
wine from my grandfather inside."
Quinn didn't miss the glances that James and Sirius shared when he
mentioned his grandfather.
"Oh my, you didn't have to bring us anything," said Lily, accepting the
box.
Quinn continued to smile politely. His gift game was strong.
"That solves the dinner problem," said Sirius grinning with a thumbs up
to Quinn.
"Sirius, I already set up some beans on the stove for you," said Lily as she
sent Quinn's gift somewhere inside the house. "I thought you'd be fine
with beans on toast."
". . . You have been standing here for the entire while I have been here."
"Magic, silly. Come on now, we don't waste food in our house."
"But I don't want to eat beans on toast."
"You're not a child anymore, Sirius. Don't act like one."
The little banter between Lily and Sirius seemed to push the slight
heaviness because of the protection situation behind and bring in a light
and bright suitable for when guests were visiting.
As they moved to the dining hall, Ivy subtly bumped into his shoulder.
She was smiling when he glanced at her, obviously happy with Quinn's
performance. And what could Quinn say— sometimes, he lived to
impress.
The dinner table was set up with a beautiful spread of appetizing food.
There were three chairs each on the lengths of the table and one each on
the heads of the table. Quinn could feel that the table had been expanded
and that four of the eight chairs were conjured— copies of a single
chair(of the four real ones) made from the Geminio charm. Quinn took a
corner chair along one of the lengths, and again, to his surprise, Ivy took
the chair beside him(on the table's length). He was perfectly fine with Ivy
sitting beside him but wasn't the plan to not seem suspicious? He thought
she would sit beside Hermione, who had taken a chair on the opposite
with Harry sitting beside her.
In the end, Quinn, Ivy, and Sirius sat along the table's length. Lily took a
chair on the table's head just beside Quinn, with James sitting directly in
front of Quinn. Harry and Hemione sat beside James. Finally, Ron took
the other table head.
"The food looks amazing, Mrs. Potter," said Quinn in unrestricted praise.
James, who sat opposite to him, sneakily rolled his eyes. It seemed that it
was going to be a repeat of the last year.
"You know, I was amazed when James told me that Mad-Eye wanted you
to join the force," said Sirius at the table. "Moody doesn't believe in
soliciting people for the Auror Office— he believes that the least
requirement for an Auror aspirant is for them to apply on their own
without any persuasion. So I couldn't believe it when I heard about it."
"Mad-Eye said what?!" Harry exclaimed as his food fell from his fork.
"Believe it or not, but 'that' Moody even compared Quinn here with
Dumbledore," said James adding to the conversation.
That made eyes go wide around the table. Comparision to Albus
Dumbledore was a high praise, but that praise was elevated to another
level when it came from someone like Alastor Moody.
"I am sure he was jesting," said Quinn.
"Moody doesn't jest, kid," laughed Sirius as if hearing an amusing joke.
"But really, why don't you give the Auror training program a try? It has
some great perks, and I think you'll have great fun there. They even pay
you just for being in training."
Quinn snorted internally. He knew that the Auror training was a
notoriously tough program. Long hours, no work-life flexibility, and
standards that made even the most talented of the bunch find themselves
running around trying to keep up with the program. It was akin to a
young doctor starting their residency, working enough hours that they
earned a very low hourly rate even with their hefty salaries. Quinn wasn't
interested, so he was going to join something that would make something
that would dominate his life.
"Alright, that's it, you're making him uncomfortable," Lily turned to
Quinn. "If I remember correctly, Professor Flitwick told me that you're
planning to go into magic research. But, I'm confused about what field
you're aiming for."
"I'm keeping my options open," said Quinn. "I actually want to pursue
everything from Transfiguration to Herbology. I will need varying
knowledge if I want to pursue some advanced magics like Alchemy."
"Just like Dumbledore," commented Sirius.
Lily didn't pay him attention. "That's admirable, Quinn. Even Ivy is
aiming to go into magic research— she's starting with Warding magic,
which will take her to aim to gain mastery in both Charms and Runes,"
she said with pride in her eyes as she looked at Ivy.
"I know," said Quinn turned to Ivy, "I was there when Ivy was talking to
Professor McGonagall about her NEWT subjects. Aiming for Warding
instead of taking Charms and Runes individually shows commitment
which I immensely respect."
Ivy seemed to be conscious of the sudden attention, or maybe it was
because of Quinn that she bowed her head in embarrassment, but as
Quinn was beside her, he could see a smile blooming on her face.
Below the table, suddenly, he felt Ivy's hand intertwining with his own.
Quinn held himself from reacting. He knew that Ivy Potter was bold, but
now it was confirmed.
"Oh, look at you, all matching, that's cute," said Sirius with his brows
wiggling at Quinn with a grin on his face.
Quinn knew what Sirius implied. Only if he knew. . . .
It was then that Ron joined the conversation. It seemed as he understood
Sirius was implying as he spoke,
"Quinn is going out with Daphne Greengrass."
.
Quinn West - MC - A security scare.
Ivy Potter - Girlfriend - Bold and bolder.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Moved to another city for internship.
COVID-test's nose swab felt. . . weird. Wrote a chapter while on the job.
Writing through out the day is a new experience. Looking forward to the
next 2 months.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
334. Chapter 334: Provoking Ire
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
Patreón.
All the chapters would still be posted here, but you can support me with
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"Oh? Greengrass, you say. . . hmm, Greengrass— Sophie Greengrass!"
Sirius leaned forward to get a grinning look at Quinn. "It's Sophie's
daughter. It's her, isn't she? It is! Oooh, if she's as pretty as her mother,
then you got a catch there, kid."
He leaned back into his chair and folded his arms, his eyes taking a
faraway look. "I still remember— I tried to pursue her when we were in
Hogwarts. A Gryffindor and Slytherin— the forbidden love, right up my
alley—
"— she was a Ravenclaw," said Lily
He sighed dramatically, making most eyes roll, "but she never gave me—
Sirius Black— the time of the day, it was heart breaking. I even
remember bothering Lily—"
"—constantly."
"—about getting a good word because they were bench mates in
Arithmancy class, good friends, but she refused to even look at me when
I brought up the topic."
"I didn't like you very much back then. You and James were total gits in
those days," said Lily bluntly.
"Ah, Lily dear, you know just the words to cheer a man up," smiled Sirius.
On the other hand, James Potter looked to be entirely invested in
counting the individual peas on his plate. The Golden Squad, especially
the twins, listened and chuckled along with the story. All the while, Ivy
didn't let go of Quinn's hand under the table, even while she talked on
the table.
"Quinn and Daphne dating each other was a big event in Hogwarts," said
Lily, and it sounded weird to all Hogwarts students(including Quinn)
when she said: "It even reached McGonagall's ears. I can say on good
authority that her ears would perk whenever we talked about it in the
faculty office," she giggled. "I heard from Pomona that McGonagall has
always been interested in her liked student's relationship— she's quite the
consumer of gossip."
Ignoring the looks from the others, Quinn turned to the Potter couple, "I
heard that Mrs. Potter was Professor McGonagall's favorite, and I'm sure
she was partial to Mr. Potter with him being the Quidditch captain— it
seems like she must've been on the lookout on your relationship. I heard
it was quite dramatic with Mr. Potter chasing Mrs. Potter for years."
"How do you know that?" asked James.
"Let's just say that Professors really like me," he smiled. "I have an
excellent rapport with a certain Scottish witch, and unexpectedly, she
tends to get chatty if you find her when she has a drink in her hand."
James looked more interested in his plate than ever, as if he had found
gold in his pudding. While Lily looked like she would turn the same color
as her hair— having heard that her once professor and now colleague
was talking to her students about her quite dramatic relationship.
Sirius threw his head back with roaring laughter. "Oh, that was fantastic!"
He turned to Ivy, "Bad luck, eh, Ivy. I remember the last time I met
Quinn, I did try to get you together; alas, I, the cherub of love, have
failed."
"I am fine, thank you," said Ivy.
And Quinn could tell she was fine. She had been doing all kinds of things
with her hand to his hand. Quinn was having doubts if she was really
trying to hide the relationship— they were sitting beside a load of people
who didn't know about their relationship, and if they didn't know it
before, they knew now that he was going out with Daphne. If they got
found, he could only imagine what the rest of the evening would look
like.
"They have actually come a long way, both of them," said Hermione.
"They didn't get along at all when they first met. It went on for a couple
years where they— especially Ivy— weren't on the best of terms."
"Really? I couldn't tell." Lily looked at Quinn and Ivy.
"We kept a distance," said Quinn while wondering what was going below
the table, 'Oh my magic! It's like she's making up for that.'
"He was a jerk," said Ivy, smiling.
"You started it," Quinn replied. "Those were fun times."
"They were."
Ron spoke with food stuffed in his mouth, "'ow'z zat fhun?"
Quinn glanced at Ron and simply smiled. He contemplated whether he
should do something to the Weasley, who really really really bad table
manners, but decided against it.
'I am kind, aren't I? I need to be praised; yes, I need to be showered in
them.' He didn't want to create any drama in Ivy's home when he was so
cordially invited for dinner— and he was trying to make a good
impression here.
The conversation continued at the dinner table until they moved back to
the lounge, where they started to talk about the real-world circumstances
in the country. Quinn was fine with some topics, such as economics and
finance, while the other, like politics of the Wizengamot faction, weren't
things he liked to talk about— but many things were connected and
normal within conversations.
He could tell that James was subtly keeping the topics of conversation
closely tied to the Light Faction. He didn't try to stray away from that
and listened carefully to what James, Sirius, and Lily spoke, trying to
piece together the internal situation of the Light Faction and even the
Order of Phoenix, though they didn't really give out any vital information
only some tidbits that he used to speculate.
He even had an inkling that James and Sirius, especially James, were
trying to hint around him siding towards the Light Faction. Quinn had
expected that— he had graduated Hogwarts, stepping into the real world
— it was just that he had expected the Grey Faction, even the Dark
Faction, to approach him first rather than the Light Faction.
He, of course, restrained to giving any form of commitment to them. He
preferred to be faction-less, and if he was to be sided with a faction, he
would wait until the very end to make his decision.
After some while, the Potters offered him a drink, but Quinn refused the
offer. Right now, any thought of inebriation or any form of drugs made
Quinn want to puke out his insides. It was total revulsion.
He took that as a chance to retire for the evening.
"Already?" asked Ivy. "Are you sure you don't want to stay for a little
longer?"
"Yeah, it's getting late," said Quinn when he saw that no one was looking
at the strangely except Hermione, but that was to be expected.
When he was about to leave, Quinn asked to go to the bathroom. Ivy led
him there and took the moment of privacy— a moment where she knew
that they wouldn't be seen by the others in the house, and if someone
came, she would be alerted about it. But Quinn didn't know about that,
so when she pulled him into a snog session, his eyes went wide, and he
didn't know what to do with his hands until later when he responded
back.
"You have been really confusing today," said Quinn between a kiss.
"Didn't we decide not to do something risky?"
"Risky?"
"Like— this."
"You don't like it?"
"It's not not nice."
"It's exciting."
". . . I can't deny that."
Ivy kept him until it was about to get suspicious, and it was the right
moment to let go as Harry sprung up just moments later. "Hey, are you
two okay?" he said and came upon Ivy standing outside and the door to
the bathroom opening with Quinn coming out with a handkerchief in
hand.
"Is something wrong?" asked Quinn.
"No, it's nothing," said Harry.
Quinn and Ivy exchanged glances when Harry turned. Ivy winked at him,
making Quinn think that this wasn't good for his heart.
Quinn bade farewell to the Potter family along with Sirius, Hermione,
and Ron, who say them out to the door. He refused to use the floo,
instead of choosing to apparate home(personal choice). He stepped
outside the Potter House ward boundary, he waved again to the guards
outside, still hidden— they were hidden better since early evening, but
not enough. Quinn smiled when he felt them shift a little to his wave;
some hid themselves better while others exposed themselves.
He chuckled and walked out of Gordic Hollow. It was the township rules
that apparition wasn't allowed within the town borders if it wasn't inside
the house wards. And because Quinn wasn't part of the Potters, he wasn't
keyed into the house wards, and this couldn't apparate from within the
Potter House.
He stepped outside Godric Hollows. The sky had already gone dark, and
the moon was glowing brightly with stars clearly visible. The night sky
was one of the perks of having the house in the countryside; it was
always clear, with the celestial bodies visible.
Quinn stared up at the sky for a while, contemplating if he should fly his
way home. But decided that it would be better to apparate and lay on the
roof to admire the stars in still-calm.
As he was about to apparate, he felt a flow of magic trigger around him.
It was sudden and flowed all around him like a great river, forming a
dome.
It took Quinn a surprised-beat, but then his magic flowed outwards, as
aggressively as he could pump it. His eyes turned grave as he felt the
fluctuation of spatial magic— the space around him was being solidified.
It was an anti-apparition ward.
Quinn straightened up and looked around when he heard the crunching
of grass and the turn of stone gravel. Suddenly, figures came out from the
dark, all dressed in black robes and silver masks— surrounding him.
"Death Eaters," said Quinn as he counted a dozen of them. "Oh, come on,
I just had a really nice evening; let's not ruin it."
"Surrender," said one of the masked Death Eaters.
Quinn turned to the speaker and smirked, "Not a single one of you has
their masks down. You don't want someone to know that you're attacking
Quinn West. That's not a confident outlook, gentlemen." Behind the
smirk, Quinn analyzed the situation. He could now feel isolation wards,
blocking sound, and any form of disturbance from going out— they were
trying to keep this under wraps— different from the usual Death Eater
modus operandi.
"Surrender," the speaker said again and raised his wand with other Death
Eaters.
Quinn didn't grace them with an answer. He cracked his neck and
unbuttoned the buttons on his vest. "I ate a bit too much," he said, "you
guys came at the right time; now, I can exercise it off a little."
He didn't waste a beat, turned to the sole speaker, and let out a gnarly
shearing spell. The Death Eater wasn't expecting the attack. There was no
wand in Quinn's hand after all. A shield was pulled up, but the half-baked
shield was sheared through like a hot knife against butter. Quinn didn't
stop and charged another powerful spell towards the same Death Eater.
There was solid contact, and he went flying back like a cannonball,
smashing into a tree.
The other Death Eaters responded and let a blinding array of spells, all
different colors with varying effects. Quinn's magic dumped into the
ground, and the earth around him rose up like spikes, forming a rough
dome.
The magic ripped the earthen dome apart, but no spell made it through.
Quinn's mind zapped with activity. He triggered his spells, and the flying
chunks of the earth all transfigured into pure steel. The lumps of stell
froze in-air and warped into spears.
The Death Eaters all pulled up their protective spells to guard.
Quinn was expecting that and welcomed it. He now had a moment to
assess the situation. It was the first time since he had been aggressively
attacked by multiple opponents. He was experienced with facing multiple
opponents, but that was when he had prepared for it, when they weren't
expecting him.
This time they had prepared for him.
And they had prepared indeed.
As Quinn was concentrating on the eleven Death Eaters, a spell came
from within the woods just outside Godric Hollows. Quinn noticed the
spell, but just in time. He turned, and out of instinct, ice crystalized
between him and the spell.
The ice seemed to have not entirely crystallized as the silver spell melted
through the ice and struck Quinn.
It was like a jolt of electric current coursing through his body. Quinn felt
himself lose control of his body and fell down onto his knees, and for a
moment, there wasn't anything he could do to stop his fall.
A fear bubbled inside him, gripping his heart. He didn't like it. Losing
control of his body. He wasn't going to go through that ever again. An
obscene amount of magic burst out inside Quinn's body. The effects of
the spells were purged.
Quinn got up on his feet, and he only had a few words for the Death
Eaters.
"You guys are lucky. So lucky that I don't have my mask and gear."
.
Quinn West - MC - I loathe being not in control.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Let's start the next mini-arc. 2-3 chapters at
max.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
335. Chapter 335: Carnage
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The late evening, early night sky framed the background of a tense
situation. The spell discharged left residue, leaving behind their remnants
magically in the form of a tingle in the air and the physical destruction
with the carved ground and splintered barks.
The Death Eaters thwarted the threatening but easily avoidable steel
spears. The wands were raised again with magic coursing through them.
They were many while their target was one. Losing one of their own
while not optimal wasn't something to be worried about. Getting the job
done was the priority— the faster they got it done, the faster they would
get the fallen to safety.
But then the sole opponent spoke, "I'm going to make it so you can't use
those Portkeys to get out of here. You tried to trap with this ward. . . so
don't think I'll let you go without a good sleepover."
The statement ruffled some feathers. The first thoughts were of surprise
of the Portkey knowledge— while not a secret, it was still not common
knowledge. But then came the offense— a 'child' who was still wet
behind the ears trying to threaten them? Did he not know his position.
They knew their target, Quinn West. Every one of the Death Eaters knew
about him— what he represented, and thus why it was imperative to be
successful.
But then a scream pierced through the tenseness, and a body came flying
out from the trees, passing over their heads and dragging the rubble as
the body came to a stop at Quinn's feet.
While the eyes were staring set in the middle at the spectacle, one of
them turned to where the body came from and saw a glint of what
looked like a ginormous tree branch, colored grey with a few green figs,
retreating into the darkness.
Quinn raised his foot and stamped it on the Death Eater's head, pressing
the face into the gravel; there was a painful groan that he ignored. He
pointed his palm at the body and forced a spell into the Death Eater's
back while staring at the bunch in front of him.
There was a scream much more horrible, terrible than the one before. It
sent shivers down the listeners' bodies. They couldn't even see the injury
clearly yet; nonetheless, they could tell that it was severe, to say the
least. The spine was at least cracked and mangled, with further damage
to the back.
"You all are fortunate that I have to think about my reputation," said
Quinn pointing at the Death Eaters as he pressed the head further into
the ground. "I can't cast Dark Curses on all of you, and neither can I kill
you guys, but I will ensure that the healers have a horrendous time
healing each and every one of you— that will have to do for now."
"Shut up, brat," said one of the Death Eaters in a gruff voice.
Quinn glanced to the Death Eater, and an explosive spell leaned on the
legal boundaries of a non-Dark spell manifested between them. The cast
speed surprised the Death Eaters— the gruff one pulled up a shield while
others went for the attack— the best moment to attack was the just
moment after the opposition had just cast their magic.
The exact time the explosion spell was released, the ground jumped
between Quinn and the Death Eaters, serving his commands. There was
an exchange; the ground exploded into dust in the face of magic. Quinn
cast another level of protection, this time magic shields, which stopped
the spells that passed through. On the other hand, the explosion spell saw
no stoppage from the defensive shield and rammed into the panicked
Death Eater's raised hands, it broke bones, and some magic slipped
through the sides of the arms into the face obliterating the mask and
shredding the facial muscles.
"Spells are slower than guns, they say," Quinn's voice suddenly echoed
from everywhere around the Death Eaters, startling them as they looked
around, "and it is true— guns are frighteningly quick, and the spells
aren't up to that speed yet, no one has tried to increase travel speed. . .
yet— but it doesn't mean that magic is slower. Let me show you a skill
that top Hit Wizards take pride in."
The dust cleared, and they found that Quinn had vanished from their
encirclement, only leaving behind the unconscious Death Eater on the
ground. They immediately went on alert towards their surrounding, but
then the same place in the middle showed a ripple, and light ripped
towards a Death Eater— it was a split moment between the appearance
and impact— and then the Death Eater went flying, crashing into the
tree, rattling it to its roots.
"I'm going to pick out every single one of you," repeated Quinn's voice.
The Death Eaters immediately launched their spells to the middle, but
they passed through— there was no one there.
Suddenly Quinn materialized just in front of a Death Eater, who froze in
shock at the sudden appearance. The Death Eater felt his entire body
gripped by something— it felt like a Body-Bind, but worse as the magic
'binds' began strangling, breathing soon became difficult, with each
breath becoming a gasp.
Quinn had his back to the other Death Eaters, and they took the chance.
Spells were shot, and multiple lights covered their paths and made an
impact with. . . . the Death Eater— Quinn had vanished from the front.
The magic was too much, and the Death Eater collapsed into a heap on
the group to reveal Quinn, who now stood behind the collapsed Death
Eater.
He walked to the side, and with each step, a part of his body disappeared
until he was no longer visible.
Something started to bubble up inside the Death Eaters. Three of theirs
have been taken down(one because of friendly fire), and now they
couldn't even keep track of their target.
Another sudden spell suddenly appeared. It sunk into the ground beside a
Death Eater's feet, changing the solid ground into a quagmire. The Death
Eater lost balance and fell on his back, slowly sinking into the sludge. It
wasn't over as the muddy appendages rose from the sinking ground and
pulled the Death Eater inside. He struggled, fought against the sludge,
shot stray spells but found that the sludge started to solidify against his
body. Then a horror jolted through his body when he found that the
ground began to press his body tighter and tighter until his lungs stopped
working and darkness overtook him.
Only the masked face of the Death Eater remained over the ground,
which was now back to normal.
There wasn't a beat missed as the next attack against the Death Eater
arrived. And it was the biggest and most devastating one yet.
Winds started to pick, making the Death Eaters look around vigilantly.
Within moments, the area was filled with fierce gusts moving in
unpredictable directions. The Death Eaters found it challenging to stand
still, much less try to find Quinn.
"AAAAAAAAAAHH!"
Everyone turned just in time to see four people drop to the ground, and
even in the dark, the carved backs of the four victims could be seen
shredded with blood staining the skin, clothes, and everything it came
into contact with.
One of the Death Eaters started to back up; his heart was trying to beat
out of its natural rhythm. He raised his wand up, moving it constantly to
cover any direction the attack could come, trying not to stumble because
of the wind.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and felt a shiver creep up his body before
he could turn. He looked down and saw a long silver blade slowly come
out of his abdomen. The eyes started to shake as he continued to watch—
the tip of the blade turned into liquid and climbed up the edge until there
wasn't a blade left and the silver was sticking close to his body.
Then he heard, "I have plugged up the wound from both sides, the blood
will stay inside where it belongs. . . thank me for it later." There were
two shoulder taps before everything went black.
That was it.
One of the Death Eaters pulled up his sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark. He
was going to Portkey out of there. He touched the mark with his wand,
and it started to turn red— the Portkey was activated.
Nothing happened.
"W-W-What?"
"I told you're not going anywhere today."
The Death Eater felt something hit him on the head with something blunt
and heavy. The pain was momentary before he went to the ground and
knew nothing more.
. . . . .
Quinn looked around. There weren't many left Death Eaters left.
He glanced up to where he had stealthily set up an anti-Potkey ward
hidden in the shadow of the Death Eater's wards. He cast an assortment
of illusion spells on himself and disappeared to prey on the remaining
Death Eaters. He was going to keep picking them apart.
There were magic he couldn't use in his 'Quinn West' persona. Everything
that he used as his 'Invisible Vigilantee' persona was out of use for 'Quinn
West'— if revealed, there were plenty of ways they could reach others,
and then someone was bound to connect the points. Then there was Dark
Magic which he couldn't be seen using for the sake of his reputation. He
won't be charged for using such spells in the current situation, but people
would keep in mind that he used Dark Magic.
He called up more magic and sent a massive gash of fire towards a Death
Eater, blasting him in the face with flames as if coming out from a high-
fueled flamethrower. After causing some burns, Quinn vanished the
bones from a leg and left the Death Eater on the ground, unable to move.
He turned to the opposite side and saw a Death Eater trying to run. He
stamped his foot on the dirt, and a long linked chain came snatching up
the ground. A huge clamp on the other end grabbed the Death Eater's
foot, tripping the runner. Quinn pulled the chain with magic and dragged
the Death Eater near him, where he buried him inside the ground and
suffocated to end another one.
He threw a super-powered Reducto into another Death Eater's face and
crushed just enough bones that would keep the man alive.
That continued until only one was left.
Quinn faced the last Death Eater, who had his trembling wand pointed at
him.
"Y-You monster."
"This is all your fault," said Quinn. "If you just hadn't done this, none of it
would've happened." He stepped forward.
"S-Stay away!"
Quinn ignored the futile and useless words and closed the distance.
The Death Eater raised his wand and cursed, "Avada Kedavra!"
Quinn halted, and a rough chunk of ground rose up— something material
was the only way to block an Avada Kedavra. The green zap exploded the
ground, leaving behind a plume of dust.
Quinn grinned, "Thank you. You just gave me some great justification."
"W-What?"
"I can now rough you up a little."
He raised his hand and sent eery bolts of lightning towards the Death
Eater, which he wasn't able to dodge, rendering him prone to the ground.
Quinn walked to the limp body and straddled it.
"I did this once before to someone," said Quinn as he raised his fists and
charged them with body magic, "and I suppose he didn't like it all, so I'm
assuming you won't be liking it as well. And this time, my hands aren't
going to get all mangled."
Quinn raised his fist and then dropped them on the Death Eater's face
and then started the pummeling.
'Nothing could beat the physical exertion of pounding someone down to a
pulp with his bare hands,' thought Quinn as he continued to beat the man
bloody— the thoughts of the spell that had hit him earlier in the fight
occupied his mind, fueling him with anger.
He didn't notice that the man had gone unconscious.
But fortunately. . .
"Quinn!"
. . . someone was there to stop him.
Quinn's hands froze mid-punch. He turned his head, a glare still in his
eyes, to look upon a crowd of people looking at him.
Among them, at the head of the crowd, was Ivy, who was looking at him
in worry.
Looking at him surrounded with carnage and battered bodies.
.
Quinn West - MC - Releasing frustration at its finest.
Death Eater - F*ck-ed - Status: All done.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Goodnight.
.
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336. Chapter 336: Aurors Office
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"Quinn!"
Hearing his name called out brought him out of the bout of anger. His
hand stopped in the air as he momentarily glanced at the broken face
before his attention went to the source, itching to get back.
He turned his head back and saw the Potter family, Sirius, Hermione,
Ron, and an assortment of people who he assumed were the guards. His
anger subsided at the sight of the people— the reasoning started to flow
back in with the trickle of adrenaline retreating back from his
bloodstream. He glanced back at the Death Eater and the bloodied face.
This was enough, he thought, and that he wouldn't be able to do anymore
anyway.
Quinn got up from the Death Eater's torso and turned to the Potters. He
took a deep breath before dropping his shoulder and stepping away from
the Death Eater.
"They started it," said Quinn. He rubbed his hand, and a water bubble
covered them that slowly took a red hue. He shook his hands, and the
stained water splashed away on the ground.
"Are you alright?" asked Ivy, worry quivering in her voice.
Quinn nodded. There was a scrap or two from the flying debris that
nicked his clothes and some skin, but other than that, he wasn't touched
by any magic.
Ivy seemed to want to come near him, but Quinn sent a very short and
concise burst of sound magic saying, "No," which made her halt with an
unbridled unwillingness. Quinn glanced at the others and was relieved
that no one felt his burst of magic to Ivy— especially with the Aurors
standing a step away from Ivy.
"What happened?" asked Sirius stepping into the 'warzone,' his eyes
wandering over the numerous unconscious bodies. The corner of his eyes
wrinkled when he saw the Death Eater with the gashes on his back.
"They were looking to abduct me," said Quinn, glancing around the area
to see if there was something that needed to be hidden. "I wasn't able to
apparate away because of an anti-apparition ward covering the area," it
was gone now.
"Classic Death Eater work," spat Sirius.
"I thought they had isolated this place, what alerted everyone about the. .
. tussle?" asked Quinn.
"Something must've broken the ward because they," Sirius pointed to the
guards, "saw flashing lights and a pillar of fire, and here we are."
'Did I somehow end up damaging the ward,' thought Quinn. He didn't
want to damage the isolation ward set up by the Death Eaters; it allowed
him to operate without worrying about things ending too quickly, 'or
maybe it was because they weren't able to keep it up properly,' and
looking around the latter seemed to be true.
"So. . . what's next?" asked Quinn, not in the mood to talk to anyone.
". . . You will need to come with us to the Auror's Office," said James,
looking around before turning to Quinn. "We will need to your account of
what happened here."
"Can't you see what happened here," said Quinn, spreading his arms in
annoyance.
"Still, you'd need to come down to the office."
Quinn sighed, "Very well. Let's be off then." He turned to the group and
said with a bow, "I apologize that all of you had to see such unsightly
sight; it ruined a pleasantly enjoyable evening. I will make it up to you
the next time we meet," that last one bit was intended for Ivy, who
apparently understood and gave a slight nod.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Quinn sat in an interrogation room inside the Aurors Office. He wasn't
being interrogated, but it seemed that Aurors would lead anyone who
they wanted to talk to an interrogation room. Quinn didn't mind that he
was seated here instead of maybe in an Auror's office or the bullpen. The
privacy of the small room while the Aurors outside ran around processing
the incident was much appreciated.
He loosened the tie from under his collar and placed it on the table in
front of him.
'I have been exposed,' thought Quinn.
Quinn West was to be a talented individual interested in magic. He was
supposed to be ahead of his peers, an overachiever in both academics and
otherwise. . . a winner in life. He had a great background— a part of high
society, all the riches he desired as part of an illustrious family, an
excellent social standing from his time in Hogwarts, great friends who
shone in their own ways, a flourishing love life— everything in his life
was supposed to be. . . perfect.
But that carefully put together image strayed away from perfect when
such an individual was found pummeling a group of Death Eaters in the
ground, guaranteeing every one of them a lengthy extended trip to the
hospital.
'I might not be able to hide this one,' he thought.
The last time something like this had happened was during Harry Potter's
abduction attempt from Hogwarts. He had stopped the abductors, and
because of the limited visibility, he could escape the public's eye. But this
time, there had been Order of Phoenix members and Aurors in the mix,
and a good number of them— it wasn't possible to close that many
people's mouths, and it was bound to spread out. Dulling the spread,
however, was another matter altogether. He had plenty of resources to
keep it from spreading to the common folk, but those in the right places
would hear about it.
'Unlike the last time, I'm sitting in the Aurors Office,' Quinn sighed.
'Grandfather will need to grease some hands to keep my name out of the
official report.'
The problem was that the scale of the situations was different. Last time,
it could be chalked up to carelessness from the Novellus Accionites'
member that he got done in by a child. This time, it was thirteen Death
Eaters against one youngster just out of Hogwarts— that couldn't be
packed up as luck. So when people heard what he had done, brows
would rise, and the mind-gears would start to turn, clicking the obvious
chains of thoughts.
Quinn clicked his tongue. Damned Death Eaters!
The door creaked open, and Quinn looked back to see James Potter and
another man walk into the interrogation room.
"Good evening, Mr. West. My name is Gawain Robards; I'm the Head
Auror," said the man as he and James took seats in front of him. "I have
been informed that you had an unfortunate encounter with a group of
Death Eaters. I would like to ask if you're feeling alright."
Quinn observed the man. With Amelia Bones becoming the Minister, the
previous Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour, was promoted to the Head of
DMLE with Gawain Robards, a Captain Auror announced to Head Auror
position.
"Other than being irritated about my evening being ruined, I'm doing just
fine, thank you, Auror Robards."
"That's good, good. I have been briefed about the situation by Aurors
Potter and Black, but I would like to hear what happened. There are a lot
of things that took place before Auror Potter arrived at the scene."
"There's nothing much to say. The Death Eaters were ready in an ambush
to abduct me. I know that because they asked me to surrender. I tried to
escape using apparition," and a Portkey, but that was left unsaid, "but
they had set up a ward which rendered that option unfeasible. From
there on, I had no choice but to retaliate in self-defense."
"Even if you say self-defense. . . you seriously injured thirteen people.
Many of them would be under the care of medi-healers for a very long
time."
"I was against multiple opponents. I had to thin the herd and ensure
when I dropped someone. . . they stayed down."
"You broke three backs."
"I might have poorly controlled my output under panic."
"Panic? You were found on top of a Death Eater, caving his face with
your fists."
"He used the killing curse, you can check his wand. . . I was angry, and
things might have gone a bit out of control."
Gawain and James exchanged looks. Quinn knew that they couldn't do
anything to him. In the first place, the Auror Office, or DMLE as a whole,
wouldn't want to press charges against him— the 'victims' were Death
Eaters, and as long as there was a Dark Mark on their arm, they saw no
love from the law enforcement. The ones who could be pressing charges
were the family members of the Death Eaters involved, and even then,
Quinn was sure, he would walk out scot-free with zero consequences.
There were a few more rounds of questioning, with Quinn asked to write
down his experience for records.
"If you'd like to call your family," said Robards.
"I have already done that," said Quinn.
Gawain and James were surprised. James said, "You already informed
your grandfather?"
"Hmm? My grandfather isn't in the country," neither were Elliot and Lia,
"someone else would be coming from my family."
"How?" asked James. "Did Sirius send someone to take your message to
your family?"
Quinn put his hand into his pocket and placed a pocket watch on the
table. He clicked a flat button on the side, and a small square plate came
ejecting from the side. He touched the top with his finger, and the plate
started to expand; parts began to appear out of nowhere until the plate
had grown to the size of a small notepad.
"What is this?" asked Gawain.
"That's a MagiFax," said Quinn. "Well, a version of it."
"What?! A MagiFax!"
The MagiFax models in the market were all stationary. Even the smallest
version was only made to fit on a work desk. The size that Quinn had just
produced was unimaginable.
"How?"
"It's a concept model and isn't going to be available to the public for a
good while," said Quinn, reducing the portable MagiFax back into its chip
size and clicking it back into his pocket watch. "You don't have to look
surprised. My family makes MagiFax; I volunteer once in a while to test
things that are in development."
The door suddenly opened, and an Auror pocked her head inside. "Sires,
some woman by the name of Rosey is waiting outside with a posh
lawyer. They're here to pick him up." she pointed to Quinn.
Quinn looked at the two before him and asked, "Am I free to go, Aurors?"
". . . Ah? Ah, yes," said Gawain.
Quinn stood up and picked up his tie from the table. "Thank you. I hope
you'll be bringing those Death Eaters to justice. I'm willing to provide any
help the Auror Office needs, so if you require me, please contact my
lawyer, who I'm sure you'll be meeting now."
"Certainly. We will give this our top priority."
"Fantastic," Quinn smiled and walked to the door, but then he turned and
faced the two Aurors who had stood up. "Just one more thing I would
like to say."
"Yes?"
"I would be very upset if the Death Eaters, for some reason, didn't make
their way to Azkaban. . ."
Gawain and James frowned. They didn't appreciate the Auror Office's
latest point of failure.
". . . and it would also make my grandfather not very happy. And believe
me, making me unhappy is nothing compared to making my grandfather
upset— he doesn't like to be disappointed."
From their expressions, Gawain and James understood what Quinn was
implying.
Quinn gave them a final nod before leaving the two Aurors alone with his
words in their thought.
.
Quinn West - MC - Thinking if "he" should take care of the Death Eaters
while they're being transported to Azkaban.
Gawain Robards - Head Auror - Is about to get a lot of pressure from his
higher-ups.
James Potter - Senior Auror - Has been put as the Auror-in-charge on the
case record.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Next time, Golden Squad's and Auror's
reaction.
.
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or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
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337. Chapter 337: Changes To
Come
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James and Sirius exited Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of DMLE's office,
closing the door behind on the meeting with the Head Auror and a
couple of Captain Aurors. They walked in silence through the ebony
marbled halls.
"Well. . . they made Scrimgeour come down," said Sirius, looking at his
watch, which showed a time much after the working hours.
"Yeah," James pursed his lips. "He didn't look about it. I don't think I had
ever seen him come down this late, even when he was the Head Auror."
Sirius shook his head with a sigh. "I don't think his mood is going to get
better tomorrow when he meets the Bones, and then I reckon George
West going to come down to make his presence known. . . ugh— it's
going to be horrible until we put the bloody fools to trial and throw them
inside Azkaban and chuck the keys into the ocean."
"And all of that would only be the start. I don't think George West will
take an attack against his grandson sitting down. He's going to retaliate
in some way. . . I just don't know how he will enact his revenge."
"I think some people are going to lose their jobs. Remember what
Dumbledore said? Voldemort is going to want his people inside the
Ministry in important positions" — Head of Houses of Wizengamot were
just a side of influence, the Departement Heads represented the other side
— the actual changes happened on that level — "and if George West
starts to pull strings, the blood supremacists who are suspected to be
connected to Voldemort may have a difficult time. But, I don't think
Scrimgeour and Bones are going to let him interfere with the Ministry
and DMLE. . . ."
"Or, I think he's going to attack businesses. It's his forte, after all," James
recalled how his father used to do business with George West. "He might
want to pull out the funding for Voldemort's operations. I just hope
things don't get difficult for the common folk because of the fighting."
"That's one naive thought. There will always be some collateral damage;
it's usually the common folk who face the brunt of it."
"Remember when I told you about Moody telling me about bringing
Quinn to our side. The reason I invited Quinn to dinner."
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Do you think this would end up being the tipping point for that? But
instead of coming this way, the Wests will join themselves in some form
with the Grey Faction. George West does business with Jacob Greengrass,
and Quinn dates his daughter. . . I fear that our chances took a hit today."
James sighed. Things had derailed before he could even try.
"Well, we got one thing cleared," said Sirius.
"What?"
"That kid can use magic without a wand," the tone of Sirius' voice was a
mix between weighty seriousness and respect. "You know what that
means, don't you? The fact that we are just finding this out, and even
Dumbledore doesn't know about it, means that the kid has been hiding it
for who knows how long."
". . . Moody said that we could be looking at the next Dumbledore," said
James, "but I don't know if Dumbledore could do that at Quinn's age, I
definitely couldn't, I still can't. . . . Maybe Moody was right. . . ."
"How do you think Dumbledore will think of that?"
"I don't know. Who knows what Dumbledore is thinking. We will only
know when he tell us."
Sirius groaned, "I guess now we have to attend an Order of Phoenix
meeting."
"Dumbledore will want to know what happened, so yes."
"Can't it wait till the morning?"
"We won't be free from tomorrow," said James before sighing. "I'll also
face Dumbledore about moving, he has been hounding about it quite a
while. . . ."
"Do you plan to move?"
"After today, Lily would want to move somewhere safer."
"What about you? What do you think?"
". . . Maybe, I'll have to talk about it with Lily and the children."
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
In the Potter House, the Golden Squad sat in the room Harry's room.
Harry sat by his study chair, Ron sat on another chair, with Hemione and
Ivy sharing the bed. After making sure they weren't missing anything, the
four teens had just left the small gathering downstairs (after making sure
they weren't missing anything) and had come to the room to have a quiet
place to talk.
"Did you see all the. . . people," started Ron, his body hunched forward,
"they were just sprawled over the ground everywhere. Did he really do
all of that?"
The other three pursed their lips. They could recall the scene of carnage
that had happened outside Gordic Hollow. Uprooted trees, barks with
chunks missing, the carved ground, scorched soil, the smell of burning in
the air, the slight tingle on their skin as they arrived there. . . and all the
bodies that look they had been thrown haphazardly.
". . . He was on top of the person when we got there," said Hermione. She
recalled Quinn's back as his fists repeatedly cocked up before going
down. . . on the bloody and broken face that she only saw afterward. It
didn't look there was someone else down there other than Quinn and the
Death Eaters.
"Dad told me when I was getting kidnapped," started Harry, "and when
they came upon him, he was on top. . . 'changing the face' of the person."
"He has big arms," said Ron, "they're smaller than Charlie, but they're up
there." The Dragonologist Weasley had developed a burlier physique than
his leaner brother due to his demanding work with difficult dragons in
the pits of Romania.
"I mean, I knew he was strong with magic, but today. . . that was, I
wasn't expecting that," Hermione trailed off. They had looked at it first
hand and had heard what was being talked about downstairs— the
amount of damage that Quinn had done and what was done to him. . . it
was astonishing.
"Do you think he used Dark Magic?" asked Ron, raising some eyebrows in
the room.
"What rubbish are you talking about?" Ivy immediately rebuked Ron with
a frown.
"They were saying that Dark Magic was used in the fight," Ron pushed
back.
"Of course, there would be Dark Magic! There were Death Eaters fighting,
for god's sake!"
"Alright, don't fight," Harry broke the fight before it could escalate. "But it
did come to surprise that Quinn could do that. There were thirteen Death
Eaters and just one of them, and the fact he looked fine when we saw
him— it was rather shocking to me. . . and the others."
Ivy slumped back against the wall that was beside the bed and sighed.
She was trapped. She wasn't allowed to go out of Godric Hollows without
someone accompanying her, and now, after this, she was sure things
would become stricter even though it wasn't them that was targeted. She
glanced at the door— just outside, on the other side, was her room, and
inside there was the two-way mirror that she shared with Quinn. She
wanted to leave here and try contacting Quinn but knew she wouldn't get
the chance now, probably not until late at night.
She would only be talking to him tomorrow, she thought. And that too
only through a mirror.
"Are you not surprised?" Harry asked Ivy.
Ivy turned a lazy eye to her brother, "I am, but at the same time, I'm not.
He always looked so calm during DA, and he's always doing some strange
and fascinating things, so I guess, while I didn't think about it, it was
always at the back of my head."
"What kind of strange and fascinating things?"
"This and that. I don't know. He's always doing something; some of them
are bound to be interesting. "
Harry stared at Ivy, but she didn't seem in the mood to talk, much less
answer, so she let it go. Quinn was always doing something, he thought
too. He has seen a couple of those interesting things as well.
"What's going to happen now?" asked Ron.
"The Death Eaters will be put to a trial," said Hermione, "and because
they got caught in the act, with ample proof, they're going to be put in
Azkaban. Because they're Death Eaters, and I assume they are going to be
marked as one, that's going to open an investigation on their lives, their
work, their families— the Ministry under Amelia Bones is aggressive
against Death Eaters. It's just the start. . . this is going to be big."
That was something that didn't need to be stated.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Voldemort tapped his boney finger on the mahogany table. He looked at
his 'generals,' his inner circle, those he expected to handle his
organization. But right now, none of them could match eyes with him.
"I will ask again," he said, "when I said I wanted Quinn West to be
brought, what didn't you fine wizards and witches didn't understand." He
watched them cower, turning their beady little eyes, looking to pass the
blame. "All of you are of noblest of backgrounds, the purest of magical
blood, the rulers of this country— so did you not understand what the
West name means? Was I expected to explain to all of you fine people
what failure would mean in this situation? Do you not understand now
that we don't have Quinn West in our grasp? We don't have the
opportunity to put George West under our palms."
The room started to shake as Voldemort's blood-red pupils deepened,
emitting an ominous glow as he stared at the people around the table. He
hissed in his serpentine tongue, and a deeper hiss was returned, one that
reverberated in the room, making people jolt. He glanced at the opposite
of the table as his beloved familiar slithered on the table with her strong
green-scaled body, representing his proud Slytherin heritage. One glance
at his Nagini was enough to set fears in the heart of even his own Death
Eaters. She was a part of himself and had a piece of himself.
"M-My Lord," said a short, stout man while sweating bullet, "we didn't
think the child would be able—"
"To take on twelve people?" he cut the man off. "Yes, that would be a
correct assumption, but did you not think the West child could have
bodyguards with him? What then? Do you think that twelve people, of
whom I never trained a single one, would be able to bring him here?"
He had seen a great future when he heard that the West child would be
visiting the Potter House. It was an opportunity. If Quinn West had
shown his face outside, they would make a move and abducted the child
right under Potter's nose, not only bringing George West under his
control but also turning the Wests against the Potters and Dumbledore by
making George West resentful and blame them for the abductions of his
grandson.
"We are well aware that Amelia Bones, the blood traitor, has been a
persistent bug against our advance in the Ministry. I wanted this to be a
change to that situation. We could've established a foothold and then
grabbed control in one fell swoop, but now, George West is going to look
in our way.
Why did none of you esteem wizards add yourselves to the plan? Were
you afraid of what would happen if George West found out," he sneered
as they couldn't answer.
Voldemort stroked Nagini's head, making her hiss in pleasure. He
wondered if he should let her feast on one of them to set another
example. But decided against it, now was not the time.
"Break out the people who were arrested. I don't care when you do it, but
I don't want them to reach Azkaban. Embarrass the Ministry, the
Minister, the DMLE, everyone involved— I don't want George West to be
chummy with Bones— put a fault in that relationship before it could
grow."
"But wouldn't that offend George West more than he's now?"
"We offended him enough when we tried and failed to abduct his
grandson; doing this won't make any difference," said Voldemort. He
looked at his Death Eaters before announcing, "I will be leaving the
country for a few days. I need to remedy this embarrassing situation that
you have put us in. I expect you not to make the situation any worse in
my absence. If I hear that there had been some unnecessary
complications when I return, be prepared to face some punishment."
Nagini hissed in pleasure, her long body curling wider on the table,
almost touching the people who jerked back.
Voldemort waved his hand, and all left with haste as there was a plague
they had to run away from. He fell into thought while stroking Nagini's
head. The situation with Wests was a roadblock that needed to be cleared
as soon as possible, or else it would stop his conquest of Magical Britain
and the subsequent plans of expanding his rule.
It was time to call in some 'favors' and meet some old 'friends' to see how
they were doing.
"Quinn West, huh."
.
Ivy Potter - Stuck at home - Thinking if there are ways to meet Quinn.
James Potter - Senior Auror - Maybe it's time to move. . . .
Voldemort - Dark Lord - Time to go travel.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
338. Chapter 338: Things At
Home
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Quinn breathed in as he pulled up on an ab-crunch and emptied his lungs
out as he went down. He felt the sweat on his bare upper body as he
continued to work his body under the summer sun. As he went down, the
sun's heat would dissipate, and a cool wind would pick up as he would
pull himself up. The magic synced with his breathing, flowing inside and
outside his body. He pushed more magic into his body, contracting his
muscles to make things a little difficult for him. His brows furrowed as
things did get a little more challenging for him.
He was focused on his body when his ears picked up the crunching of
grass moving closer. He pulled up and turned his head back to face the
familiar footsteps.
"You got back quickly," he said. "I was expecting to see you in the
evening."
George looked down on his grandson, his eyes moving around Quinn's
body.
"I'm not injured, not even a knick on the skin," said Quinn.
"I will believe when I see no injuries," said George, and Quinn got up
with a kip-up and turned around to show George that he was indeed
alright.
"Tell me everything that happened; start from the top and leave not a
single detail from what happened yesterday evening."
Quinn did precisely that. He started from the top about his arrival at
Godric Hollows, the presence of guards in front of the Potter House, some
chatter about the dinner, and then the climax in the form of his
confrontation with the Death Eaters. He finished the account with his
little time in the Auror Office.
"That's about it. After that. . . I was home, had a lovely sleep, and here
we are. . . ."
Quinn waved his hand, and a patio table with two chairs conjured
between them.
"I am assigning you a bodyguard," said George as soon as he sat down.
"I refuse."
"You don't have a choice. After yesterday, it's clear that if you're going to
roam around outside, you'll need a bodyguard," said George, and before
Quinn could get a word in edgewise, George continued. "It's better if you
take some time off from here, and a good way to do that is to leave here
and go to New Zealand— I want you to start your apprenticeship with
Alan Baddeley now instead of next year."
Quinn stayed silent for George to finish before starting, "Wow, okay, I
heard what you said. I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'm going to stay
here, have a good break, plan a trip with my friends, and have a jolly
time. I will also repeat, I do not want a bodyguard. Don't try to stick
someone with me, don't even think about it— I'm not going to appreciate
it."
"You don't need to appreciate it."
"I will not be getting a bloody bodyguard."
The grandson and grandfather stared at each other from across the table.
None said anything to each other, just stared at each other. They only
started again when Polly popped up and served tea.
"Are you fine?" George asked.
Quinn answered with a glass of lemonade in hand, "I'm doing just fine.
You don't need to worry like that."
George took a sip from his teacup and sighed, "You and Death Eaters
mentioned in the same sentence is not good for my health. It was
fortunate that Elliot was with me, or else I would've been leaving a lot of
things unattended."
"I will write to him to tell him that I'm okay. He must be worried sick
there all on his own."
"Lia would be coming in the evening; I got her message."
"Should I write to her? If I remember correctly, today and tomorrow are
her free days with Abraham, and you know how those two work. It'll be
better if I write to her before she gets that Portkey."
He raised his hand towards his room to summon the portable MagiFax,
but was stopped by George.
"You can do that later. So. . . thirteen Death Eaters. . . that's impressive."
"Some might say that," said Quinn, smiling into his glass.
"You never told me about this— that you had reached such levels. Even
some Aurors and Hit Wizards pass their careers without achieving such."
"It wasn't a big deal," Quinn crossed his legs and said nonchalantly. "They
were weak, not used to group combat; hell, they were untrained,
normals, they probably didn't even use magic daily. So even though they
were a dozen, they weren't much of a threat if even greater in number.
And well, they underestimated the difficulty of the mission they were
given— their failure was imminent."
"Untrained or not, they were thirteen, and you were one. Fighting that
many people and coming out victorious— coming out victorious
uninjured, that is a big deal."
"Fighting multiple opponents without magic, yes, that's extraordinary,
but I had magic. When magic is involved, normal rules don't apply."
"But they had magic as well, son."
"Having magic doesn't give them the same weapon as I. The way we
understand magic is completely different. Even if we term it as magic, it's
something completely different."
"I could see that from the condition they were transported in to St.
Mungos. I heard they horrified many eyes."
"I might have overdone it in the heat of the moment. It was astonishing
when it happened; I was never expecting them to greet me with such
vigor."
"You seem to have progressed much in magic."
"I have been working on it for years. It would be strange and
disappointing if I didn't make progress."
"Yes, but you have made too much progress; I'm impressed. . . ."
"And?"
"I just wonder how much you have progressed."
"To be exact, you're asking me if I have progressed in the disreputable
parts of magic."
"Yes, that's exactly what I am asking."
"In some ways, I have made more progress in those parts than in the
mainstream. . . . things can get boring, and those things just seem so
much interesting."
"And dangerous."
"You let me worry about that."
"A parent always worries about their child. I still think you're too young
to be dabbling in those things."
Quinn raised his glass again. There wasn't anything he could say to
dissuade George's worries. The most they could do was ignore each other
and pretend that the cause of uneasiness didn't exist.
"What are you planning to do now?" asked Quinn.
"I do not like getting involved in wars," said George, taking a somber
tone. "Wars— skirmishes— happen every day in this world, be it
wizarding or muggle. There are plenty of countries, unrecognized states
where we do business, where people are at war with each other for
resources. I have tried to stay clean of war, knowing well that it would
make us humongous profits and secure my family's future even better if
we partook even a little.
Those are third-world countries; I don't care much about them. This is my
country, my birthplace, where I grew up— a place that I dearly love. And
I still don't want to get involved, but. . ."
George looked more somber than Quinn ever looked at him, and he saw a
look of anger in his eyes, something so rare that it took him a step even
with his Occlumency to remember seeing it.
". . . they encroached upon my family, something I love much more
dearly than anything else. I have to — wish to — want to — respond to
what the Dark Lord dared to do because if I don't, they will think I'm
weak, that I fear him like everyone else does— I can't let that happen. I
already moved away once during the last war. I will do so again if it
happens again— but I will not stay silent this time."
"You are planning to take an active part in the war?" asked Quinn in
surprise.
"War hasn't started yet, son. We're still in the preparatory stages," George
said while shaking his head. "Even if it had begun, I have no intention of
picking a side on the chessboard or becoming a side. However, what I
can do is ensure the white side of the board has the advantage. I will take
my revenge and hedge the bets in favor of the side I want to win."
"That sounds like taking a side."
"Not if we stay away," George maintained hard-eye contact with Quinn,
"and we stay away."
"We stay away, huh."
George nodded.
"Tell me more about the dinner. Did something interesting happen? I see
no reason why the Potters would invite you," asked George.
"The 'objective' of the dinner," said Quinn with air quotes, "was to thank
me for the Umbridge situation— it was overdue, as James Potter said. It
was an excellent thank you dinner, but the real reason was to bring me to
the Light Faction, or at least the Order of Phoenix. He was dropping hints
all the way through the time I was there— except that everything was
nice."
"And?" asked George.
"What?" counter-asked Quinn.
"Are you going to join Dumbledore's Order of Phoenix?"
"Now, why would I do that?"
"They're looking to recruit you. You obviously got attacked by Death
Eaters with the intention to exploit you to get to me, which means they
have no intention to solicit you into joining their illustrious ranks. The
abduction attempt and their plans for you obviously didn't please you,
and knowing you— you may have formed a grudge against them—
joining an outfit that combats Death Eater must look like an attractive
destination to you right about now."
"That's. . . I mean. . . I wasn't thinking about that," said Quinn.
George just stared at him, which seemed to have to be looking through
him.
"I will repeat it, Quinn," he said. "We are staying away. That 'we' means
you, me, Lia, Elliot, Rosey, and everyone who works for me. I will say it
again and will say it as much as the time is needed from me, so if you
need to hear it again, let me know."
Quinn pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes just a smidge. "Why do you
think I don't plan to stay away," he asked.
"I am not saying that you don't, but just in case you wanted me to say it, I
will say it."
"I don't know if it's just me, but it sounds really passive-aggressive."
George shrugged.
"I understand," sighed Quinn. "We stay away."
He was going to stay away, but the other him could have as much as free
reign he wanted— or at least all the freedom he could afford.
Quinn put down his empty glass and stood up from his chair. "I will hop
into the shower to freshen up and see you at breakfast." He got a nod in
response.
He walked away, but he heard George call out to him just as he was a
few steps away.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Remember when I helped you with Labyrinth?"
"Yes, it has worked out very well till now."
"Yes, it has been going well. But I'm talking about the promise you gave
me."
That made Quinn's smile pause. He stared at George for a bit before
saying, "Yes, I do remember the promise. . . . Have you thought about
what you want?"
"No, not yet. I was just saying."
". . . I see."
"Good, you may leave."
And Quinn did just that with a lot of thoughts in his mind.
.
Quinn West - MC - That was. . . . strange.
George West - Grandfather - I have spoken.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Woah. . . that was tense.
.
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or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
339. Chapter 339: Sharing A
Secret
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Quinn closed the door to his room, and the latch snapped into the frame.
He walked into the walk-in closet attached to his room, and the chair
from under the study table followed after him. It placed itself in front of
the full-body length mirror, where Quinn sat himself down. He took out a
circular hand mirror and played with it in his palm.
He looked between the hand mirror and the full-body one. The hand
mirror glowed, turning solid yellow— then the full-body mirror glowed
in the same hue before both dimmed down to normal. Quinn put the
hand mirror back and patiently stared at the full-body mirror.
A sheen passed over the huge mirror glass and stopped reflecting Quinn's
image; instead, it showed Ivy from the chest up. Ivy's face bloomed as the
two-way mirrors connected, her eyes intently staring at him.
"Are you alone?" he asked with a whisper.
Ivy nodded. "Why're you sitting so far away," she said, "can you even see
me from there?"
Quinn softly smiled and pinched out his index and thumb, manipulating
the charms in the two-way mirror to change its transmission. "Am I
visible now?" he asked. [A/N: Lol. Online Meeting.]
"Much better," Ivy stared at Quinn. "How are you? Were you injured? Did
you go to St. Mungos to get checked? What did they say? How—"
"Slow the train," said Quinn. "I'm fine; there were no injuries. . . yes, I
went to St. Mungos despite that— Ms. Rosey took me forcefully. . . don't
worry about it." He wondered how many times he had repeated the same
things to Ms. Rosey and Polly, who seemed incapable of taking his word
for it. "How about you? Yesterday must've been a scare for everyone at
the Potter House."
"Mum couldn't stop pacing. She wouldn't like the mere thought of Death
Eaters near our house, and yesterday it actually happened— even if they
weren't coming for Harry, it was enough to set her worries off. You
passing past the guards unseen didn't help it. She's in the library now,
reading upon protective charms and wards," sighed Ivy.
"Sorry about that. . . . But she's right. The Death Eaters dared to come this
near your house must show that they're not apprehensive enough about
being near the 'enemy' area— where they knew the possibility of guards
being present is the highest. That's not something you want to see from
an enemy who wants nothing more than to kill you. It's not exaggerating
to say that it might be the time to move houses to somewhere more
secure."
"I don't want to."
"Ivy. . . I know it is tough to leave your childhood home, but for the
safety of your fam—"
"I know that," she cut him off. The unwillingness was brimming in her
voice, "It's just if we move from here, we would be moving to somewhere
with much more. . . rules and restrictions. I'm sure I wouldn't even get to
go out in the yard."
"I can't deny that, but it doesn't matter, does it? You'll be off to Hogwarts
before you know it, and there you won't have those rules even with your
mother at Hogwarts with you."
Ivy sighed, "I know, but Hogwarts still isn't for a while. I'd be bored to
death before that."
"You'll be turning seventeen soon; you'll have full access to your wand
after that. Have some fun with magic— pick up a project, create
something interesting. I do it every year. It's really fun," and brought in a
lot of money. "Didn't you have fun creating these mirrors? Do something
similar to that, and time will pass before you know it— and you have
Hermione with you, both of you can work together and makeup
something amazing. Tell her she might even get some extra points from
the Professors; she'll jump at it."
Ivy almost tumbled back over her bed, laughing.
"Hey, do you have any way we could meet again?" she said. "I won't get
to meet you for a long time at this rate. Forget about during the summer;
I might not get to meet you during Hogwarts— mum might not allow me
to go down to Hogsmeade."
"You can always sneak out— you have the map and the cloak. Tell me
when you want to meet, I'll be there, and we can spend some together.
It's pretty easy if you can successfully sneak out. We can even go out if
we have enough time— without freaking people out, that is."
"Hmm. . . I think that'd be something I could do. Okay, let's see how this
turns out."
"Looking forward to it."
"Hey, listen—"
Quinn couldn't see anything except Ivy. She looked up, away from the
mirror, and then he heard Hermione's voice from the other side.
"Hey, Ivy, do you have. . . what are you doing?"
"Nothing at all. Are you looking for something?"
The image in the mirror was covered as Ivy shoved it under somewhere,
and the voices got muffled because of it, but Quinn could still make out
some of the conversation.
"Was that. . . -way mirror. It. . . wasn't it?"
"No."
"Oh my god!"
"Wait!"
Quinn moved quickly and cut the call immediately in case the mirror was
seen; his face would come up, and that'd be not optimal, to say the least.
He weaved his magic and set up a disturbance in the spell connecting the
two-way mirrors so that even if someone tried to connect from the other
side, it would seem like the magic were faulty.
"Not a calm day," Quinn chuckled, wondering how Ivy would be handling
things with Hermione.
He got up and turned to the array of clothes behind him.
"What should I wear."
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Quinn sat on the green field, his eyes looking at the cloudless blue sky.
His magic moved inside him into the ground beneath, slowly (so slowly)
getting expended from his body. The grass around him moved like they
were being swayed by the winds even though there was no wind around
him.
He focused on a patch of grass that looked no different from its kin
around it and sent up more magic to it. The grass grew longer, wilder,
lusher, and denser, and the progress could be seen through the naked
eye. The grass wilted, turned yellow, withered away before new strands
grew, richer than before, and the process repeated until Quinn heard
footsteps and turned back.
"Hey," he said with a smile.
Daphne looked down at him. She was dressed in a summer skirt with a
black top that complemented her usual elegance with its gracefulness.
"The fact that you called me here must mean you heard what happened
yesterday," said Quinn getting up and dusting himself. It was expected
that Jacob Greengrass would hear about the sudden late-night activity in
the Ministry. He had gotten a MagiFax from Daphne early in the
morning, wanting him to come near the non-magical village down the
hill from the Greengrass residence.
She didn't speak and continued to watch him with the same gaze he had
gotten from all his family since yesterday, so he repeated the answer
before the question came— "I'm alright. The Death Eaters, though, I can't
say the same for them. I heard that they got some nasty injuries."
Daphne stepped forward and hugged without saying a word. Quinn
wasn't surprised by her reaction and embraced her gently into his chest
with his chin over her head. He stayed silent as he felt her stronger than
usual hold over him.
"Calm now?"
Daphne nodded into his chest but didn't let go.
"I hope this thing didn't cause you too much worry."
"I got worried sick when father told me. Death Eaters! Thirteen!"
Seeing that Daphne was getting anxious the more she spoke, he stopped
her and got back to calm her down. When she calmed down, Daphne
separated from him.
"Tell me everything," she said.
Quinn went through the events, but unlike what he told George, he toned
the things down for Daphne and only gave her the rough details of what
happened. He saw her eyes narrow when he glossed over the details a
couple of times, but he got by.
". . . and that's about it."
"Your grandfather must not be happy," she said. "Father thinks he's going
to retaliate in one way or another."
"Your father is absolutely right," he sighed and told her the conversation
he had earlier in the day. "He was already in a meeting with some when I
was leaving to come here."
"He's going to participate in the war?" she asked with worry.
Quinn shook his head. "He's not— wants us to stay away."
"That's a wise decision." It looked like Daphne was in full agreement.
Quinn didn't comment on that situation.
After some conversation, the two roamed around the area hand in hand,
with Daphne telling Quinn all her favorite places. It seemed that Daphne
loved to just walk to places from her home and see if she could find new
places.
As Daphne was sharing all these things with him, Quinn decided that he
wanted to do the same.
"Would you like to know something about me that I haven't told anyone,"
he asked, not knowing why he was asking.
"Yes," was the instant reply.
"It might be a little heavy."
"I don't mind."
"Okay, then. Only my family knows about this, but I am a. . . Legilimens."
They stopped in the middle of a dirt road with Daphne's wide eyes
staring at him.
"Surprised? Horrified? Repulsed?" he asked.
"Surprised. . . yes. Scared. . . more than a bit. But the other two? No."
"That's good to hear."
"Since when?"
"Before Hogwarts, actually. I told you about my apprenticeship— it's with
my mind magic master— he taught me Occlumency, and because I had
the potential for it, I also learned Legilimency. I have been using it ever
since then."
"Even in Hogwarts."
"Mostly in Hogwarts— every day during breakfast for seven years. When
I had just joined, I used to listen to everyone's surface thoughts to see
what was going on," he paused as he stared at her, "even you were
included in those times because I lacked control, and when you didn't
have your barriers primed, I would hear your surface thoughts." He felt
her hand clutch, his hand firmer— he could feel her worry, but he
continued, "There was a time when I liberally used Legilimency whenever
I could get away with it. . . somewhere along the line, I grew. . . or just
realized what I was doing, so I implemented rules upon myself.
Never to use any form of Legilimency on my friends. If someone seemed
safe the first time, I wouldn't use Legilimency to hear their thoughts. . . . I
continued the breakfast ritual, but limited it down to emotions and
excluded friends."
He then stopped and let Daphne decide what she thought of it. Her
reaction? She resumed walking and pulled him along.
"Have you ever looked into my memories?" she asked.
Quinn shook his head, "I haven't, not with our friends. I rarely dove into
memories during Hogwarts."
"And outside Hogwarts?"
"Well, I need a way to practice, so when during the summers, whenever I
would go to the non-magical world, I would take some time and sit down
in a crowded place like train stations and feel memories, listen to
thoughts, and even dive into memories. I justified it to myself by thinking
that I would never meet those people ever again. . . and it worked
because I never felt I was violating my values."
There was another spell of silence before Daphne spoke and asked, "Did
you feel my emotions before asking me out to ensure that I. . . ."
"No," Quinn said before she could finish, "I had done a good job with my
self-imposed restrictions. I'm not going to lie that I wasn't tempted to
check, but they were just fleeting thoughts that I paid no regard to."
". . . I see," said Daphne before asking. "Would you like to check now? If I
love you."
Quinn softly shook his head. He didn't need that.
"Would you like to know if I love you?"
"It'd be great if my girlfriend loved me."
Daphne stopped and faced him. "I have a much better way than reading
minds to let you know if I love you."
"Oh, what is it?"
"It's straightforward," she said, tipped toe as she pulled him down.
Quinn found himself kissing her. It was soft and slow but at the same
time burning. His head was filled with thoughts of how she was right— it
was straightforward and effective.
.
Quinn West - MC - A secret is strongest when known only to one. . . but
sometimes, secrets are better when they're weaker.
Daphne Greengrass - Loves to find unknown places - Saw a different side.
Ivy Potter - Wants to get out of her house - In a bit of trouble.
.
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or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
340. Chapter 340: The Azkaban
Transport
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Granian breed of winged horses neighed under the dark night sky.
"Calm down, boy," said the carriage driver patting down the horse out of
the six horses attached to the front of a long barred cage atop wheels.
The gruff middle-aged man with the scruffy beard smoothed out the
horse's coat as he glanced at the group of fellow Aurors standing at a
distance, conversing. One of them, who Graham recognized as Hartley,
broke away from the group and walked towards him.
"Is everything ready, Graham?" asked Hartley.
"Aye, the boys are ready to fly, anxious actually," said Graham, the Auror
assigned as the carriage driver.
"Good, good, today's an important day." Hartley turned his eyes up to the
cloudless sky. "The weather's with us today. It doesn't look like it will
rain or thunder."
"Nor will it thunder," Graham added. "It's terrible time flying when the
horses get agitated by the thunder. Rain won't be hindering me eye today
as well— it looks to be turning into an easy haul today."
Hartley pursed his lips, making Graham ask if something was wrong.
"You know how it is," said Hartley, "we'll be hauling Death Eaters to
Azkaban today. Last time this happened, the patrol was ambushed in the
way, and the prisoners freed away by the filthy Death Eaters. Three good
people in the guarding patrol are still stuck in St. Mungos' spell damage
recovery ward."
"You reckon it will happen again?"
"Who knows? Last time, the prisoners were pretty big names— Greyback,
Carrow Twins, Yaxley. This time, they aren't that big of names, so maybe
the Death Eaters won't bother. . . can't imagine them being the
chummiest of the bunch."
"We have to be careful," sighed Graham as he continued stroking the
well-maintained coat. "It looks like we'll be traveling a lot of people
today," he pointed at the group of ten additional Aurors that had arrived
with the prisoners.
"Orders from above. The Death Eaters seemed to have tangled with
someone mighty important and pissed them off. Scrimgeour had been
taking rounds of the office to check progress— even Lady Minister came
down once. No one wants this to go down in flames. . . let's just hope it
goes smoothly without any crazy."
"Don't we all want that. . ."
Thirteen Death Eaters, all cuffed behind their backs with arm cuffs, were
levitated to the open cage and unceremoniously dumped inside with no
regard. The cage door was shut on them as they shuffled inside. The
magical looks snapped into places with a buzz of magic sealing them
shut. A wave of cracking blue magic passed between the bars on all four
sides, forming a pale coating before it vanished— there but unseen to the
eye.
Graham and Hartley greeted their superior in charge as Sirius and James
came to overlook the transfer process.
"Should we knock them out?" asked Sirius, lightly kicking the side of the
cage, springing up the pale blue protection. "It'll be much less trouble for
us if they don't fuss." He looked down at the Death Eaters, "Don't fuss,
okay. Any strangeness. . . be ready for a world of misery."
"It'll be a problem if they get too roughed up during the transport," James
said with crossed arms. "Let's nail them down to the floor with sticking
charms and leave it at that."
Sirius smirked, "Yeah, on a second thought, it'd be a pity if they don't
experience the pleasant winds of the night during their ride. . . after all,
when's the next time they'll get to experience such luxuries."
"Will you be coming with us today, sirs," asked Graham.
"Yes, can't have this going wrong. Other than us, you'll be joined by one
more Senior and one Captain. If Death Eaters do come to save their pals,
they'll be coming along with us."
"That much for a transport!" Hartley asked in brow-raising surprise. "At
this rate, the Death Eater will turn back when they see who they'll be
going against."
The four laughed beside the miserable Death Eaters stuffed into cages as
if they were animals. It would take someone a good amount of effort to
look for someone inside the Auror Office sympathetic with Death Eaters.
"Alright, enough joking around; it's time to focus on the job."
The four Aurors turned to see Captain Auror Kingsley arrive. He called
for everyone to gather around and started the final brief.
"This is your standard transport to Azkaban operation, but because our
prisoners are Death Eaters, there's a danger that other Death Eaters
would try to free them as they have done before. We will be divided into
four teams. Singh's team will remain with the prisoners and take them to
Azkaban. Potter and Black will take their team and protect the carriage if
the Death Eater tries to be stupid and interfere with the transport. I will
take my team and act as support wherever needed. Don't slack off or let
your guard down. Now, let's do the job and get home."
The Auror patrol took flights on their brooms and surrounded the
prisoner cage pulled by winged horses reigned in by Graham. While
Graham had cast a nifty spell that reduced the wind resistance on his
body, the prisoners had no such luxury and were whipped by the fast
winds.
Graham had his eye in front when he noticed something on the edge of
his field of sight. And out of nowhere, out of nothing, at least thirty
hooded figures, suspended in midair, formed a vast circle. He narrowed
his eyes behind his flight googles before they went wide. He whipped his
wand out and placed it on his throat.
"DEATH EATERS INCOMING!"
His voice fought against the wind and reached the ears of all members of
the Auror patrol. The trained Aurors took their formations at once and
formed a dome around the prisoner carriage. But just as they set
themselves into the formations, several spells came whistling against the
wind and exploded in the front. The chaos was instant as the Auros
spearheading at the front were blown away along with their brooms.
In an instant, the night sky was turned into a battlefield of magic, with
bright spells lighting up the darkness. Brooms flew at neck-breaking
speeds, with the riders weaving out of the spells' way and defending
against others.
Graham looked around, his grip tightening on the reigns. He raised his
wand to cast spells defending the horses, trying to keep them safe
because the carriage would crash below into the fields without them. He
also kept on the team in charge of defending the carriage, watching to
spot the weakside and supplementing it.
He swallowed at the chaos around him. There was no communication
from anyone, and that worried him. That's why he didn't like transports
to Azkaban— the fortress, surrounded by vast waters, with no island
anywhere near it, was covered in wards that disallowed apparitions and
Portkey travels, which couldn't be pulled down even for a second because
of the security risk, and there were no Floo Network because of the risk
of getting watched— the only way to arrive at the prison was by flying. .
. which could lead to problems like the one they faced now.
A spell suddenly came from a side that Graham thought was the strong
side protected by the defensive team. He turned hastily towards the spell
with his wand. He wasn't going to make it! Suddenly another spell came
from just beside his head and expanded into a shield spell, thwarting the
Death Eater's spell. Graham jolted in surprise and turned back— that
shield spell wasn't a standard one used by Aurors. His breath hitched
when he saw another spell, this time from a weak side, coming towards
him. . . time seemed to have slowed down for Graham, and at that
moment, he could only watch as the spell inched towards him. But then
again, out of nowhere, another shield spell came over his head and
protected him against the second Death Eaters that should've blown him
out from the air.
The world returned to speed, and the sounds returned to his ears.
Graham's heart thumped like a train as his eyes swarmed around with his
wand at ready. But while Graham's mind was thinking about protection
and survival, another part was dominated by the two spells that had
saved his life twice— they weren't standard Auror shield spells, and while
not all used those spells, he couldn't remember anyone using that specific
one.
Thump!
Graham jumped in his seat because of a sudden downward jerk from
behind. He turned his head up and back towards the carriage cage, and
his pupils shrunk from shock. Standing on the top of the carriage, dressed
in all black and the mask well known to everyone in DMLE.
"Invisible Vigilante!" but Graham's voice was drowned away by the
winds.
The shocking appearance was sudden as the Invisible Vigilante vanished
in front of Graham's eyes. Instantly, Graham tried to locate Invisible
Vigilante. . . and found him immediately. . . in the form of horrid screams
that reached his ears against the flow of the winds. Graham looked back
into the prisoner cage through the bars to find he couldn't see anything
than soot and haze that filled the cage, leaking out, blowing back with
the winds.
Graham broke out of his shock and put the wand to his throat to inform
the entire patrol, "INVISIBLE VIGILANTE! INVISIBLE VIGILANTE! HE IS
HEAR! HE HAS RELEASED A SPELL INTO THE CAGE THAT I THINK IS
THE ONE WE SUSPECTED HE USED BEFORE! HE IS INVISIBLE! I
REPEAT, THE INVISIBLE VIGILANTE IS HERE!"
There was no response for one second. . . two. . . three. . . four ticks
before Graham heard a voice that he identified as Kingsley. "Noted.
Remain focused on the prisoner's protection; we will take care of tracking
him down. . . . Don't interfere with the prisoners inside the cage."
The last part of the message made Graham suck in a breath. He clutched
the reigns tighter and ignored the screams coming from behind him.
The Aurors didn't need to put much effort into finding the Invisible
Vigilante. The sky was lit up with white flashes near some Death Eaters,
sending him falling out of the sky into the fields below. Then two long
glowing red chains appeared out from a singular point and sprinted
towards two Death Eaters and grabbed onto their brooms. As if chained
to a wall, the brooms were yanked from below the Death Eaters and sent
them to an obvious fate of free fall. . . if they survived their fall was
currently unknown.
One of the Aurors shot a spell from where the magical red chains
originated, and a shield manifested into defense. There was a distorted
ripple in the shape of a human as the shield disappeared. The distortion
vanished almost instantaneously, hiding the Invisible Vigilante.
"I have a lock on him," heard Graham and everyone in the Auror patrol.
It was Sirius Black who had spoken. "I can roughly locate him; do you
want me to pursue him?"
There was a pause in the response from Kingsley that came into
everyone's ears, but it surprised a lot of people when it arrived. "You are
not to attack the vigilante until the threat of Death Eater ambush is taken
care of or until I give the order. If he attacks any of us, you are free to
shoot him down.
After that, Black, Potter, and I will hunt down the vigilante with the rest
of you continuing onto Azkaban under Singh's command." Kingsley
finished with, "I want him alive."
Sirius' affirmation ensued, with James following after.
Graham accepted the orders from Captain Auror in charge. He didn't
know how to feel about it but didn't get the time to ponder about it
because of the attacks. Graham took a look back in the cage and saw that
the soot and haze had cleared. He watched as the Death Eaters lay
slumped on the floor, not moving. He panicked, wondering if they were
dead for a second, but then he strained his ears to hear some painful
moaning that he almost missed.
Graham knew that the Death Eaters had lost their hands if his guess was
correct.
.
Invisible Vigilante - Unannounced Participation - Operating as per M.O.
Graham - Junior Auror - On a ride to remember.
Kingsley Shacklebolt - Captain Auror - Controversial decision?
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341. Chapter 341: Storm & Pursuit
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The sounds of whipping wind flapped in his ears.
Quinn, in his Noir gear, flew above the fighting Aurors and Death Eaters,
keeping his eye on the spell crossfire from behind his mask that had been
magically modified to not hinder his vision in any way, especially his
peripherals.
He glanced at the prison cage. Tetani Nervum's soot and haze had
subsided as the magic had run its course, taking away not only their
hands but also their legs as one final revenge. If it was any other prisoner
transport, even if they were Death Eaters, he wouldn't have bothered
coming here, but it had become personal because the prisoners were the
thirteen Death Eaters who had attacked him. He had kept an ear open for
it, keeping tabs through his grandfather, and when he heard that it was
going down today, he had put on his gear and was out of home with an
excuse of going to the non-magical world, that he frequented enough to
not seem suspicious.
'They're talking,' he thought. It was faint and well-executed, but he could
sense the flow of magic going back and forth between every Auror. He
observed the flow and arrived at the conclusion that it was sound magic
with it being used to communicate over the wind.
He turned his focus on the Death Eaters— unlike their opponents, there
was no communication— or at least none that he could pick up, but that
wasn't highly probable.
'Good for me. They'll go down more easily.'
He was done with his primary objective of disabling his thirteen
assailants. He wondered if he should exit and leave the Death Eater
rescue team to the Aurors, but after some pondering, Quinn decided to
stay a little longer to ensure that there were no casualties on the Auror
side. There were already on the lesser side, and losing anymore would be
a loss of quality magic users capable and competent in dueling.
Quinn controlled the finds and launched towards a Death Eaters like a
cannonball. He gyro-ed his legs forward and mercilessly kicked the Death
Eater from his broom. He ignored the falling scream and grabbed onto
the broom, bombarded it with his magic, setting the entire shaft on fire.
Looking around, he picked a nearby Death Eater and sent the burning
broom towards them.
The Death Eater, startled at the sight of a burning broom streaking
towards him, steered his own broom away, and with his attention
consumed by the broom, he was hit by a spell from an Auror. . . just as
Quinn had intended things to turn out.
Quinn glanced down, and he could see the rural being left away and the
urban building closer— he could tell that within a few, they would be
squarely into a city with large non-magical populations under them,
making any commotion in the sky a potential spectacle to those down
below. . . something that was a severe security hazard.
He took in the aerial battlefield. Even with the fight going for a while,
the Death Eaters still outnumbered the Aurors. He needed to trim the
numbers enough that the Death Eaters lost confidence and retreated from
the rescue operation.
'I guess it's time to blow some away.'
His focus deepened. The magic began pouring out of his magic core. The
deep reserves, which rarely saw such substantial expenditure from magic,
started to hum as if they were excited about what was to follow. He
increased his altitude and rose up above the battlefield, looking down at
everyone with his burning purple eyes.
Suddenly, everyone in the air saw large currents of wind whip up around
them. They picked up speed, sucking in some of the clouds below them.
The swirling winds grew more potent, forming a tornado around them,
with Death Eaters and Aurors alike suddenly finding themselves in an eye
of a literal storm— but this eye of the storm wasn't calm at all—
everyone found themselves clutching their brooms tighter and were
forced to adjust their speeds to not running into the swirling wind walls
that progressively grew stronger. But then everyone found their danger
alarms rang up a storm when the tornado started to shrink upon them,
but at the same time, the swirling winds only seemed to run faster.
Quinn turned his glowing purple eyes towards the Death Eaters in the sky
and commanded his magic and thus decreed the winds to do his bidding.
The winds turned into almost solid pillars and shot at angles towards the
Death Eaters.
One of the wind pillars sneaked up a Death Eater from behind and
knocked the 'wind' out of him, and he found himself leaning towards the
tornado walls. If it was just that, it would've been manageable, but then
the winds that made up the pillar surrounded the Death Eaters and
forcefully pulled him towards the tornado. The Death Eater's scream got
locked inside the winds, but everyone saw the violent outburst of spells
shot in panic. . . that was until the man met the tornado. . . and all
struggle halted.
And with that halt began the chaos that descended the Death Eaters into
what seemed to be a waking nightmare. The fierce symphonies of winds
sung under Quinn as the conductor, extending their screaming talons that
pulled the masked followers of the Death Eater into its violent embrace.
The magic was one from the Nordic Books of Winds that Quinn had
picked up in Denmark. Quinn had learned a variety of wind magics from
the said book— usually concentrating on control-type magic, but the
book had an abundance of destructive magics with the sole aim of
decimating their targets.
Quinn breathed out, and his eyes returned to their usual color. The
tornado dissipated just in time for the flight to reach the port town. He
glanced towards the direction they had come from, where he had left
behind a trail of Death Eaters— he didn't know how many of them
survived their fall. . . after all, he didn't know how many were able to
hold on to their wands while being pulled apart by the winds.
The thought only stayed in his mind for a moment. Quinn glanced
towards the prisoner carriage and saw that the winged horses were still
flying strong. The Aurors had moved closer to the carriage to keep
themselves away from getting sucked into the tornado.
He had taken revenge, cleared away the obstacle for the Aurors, used a
magic he wouldn't get a chance to use usually, and had felt great all the
way through— now it was time to go home and maybe have a nice meal
at a non-magical restaurant on the way. He turned himself invisible and
flew away in the opposite direction from the sea.
But it had only been maybe half a minute of flying when he felt
something and turned back. His eyes widened when he saw three people
on brooms flying in his direction. . . and it was obvious that they were
following after him.
'What?' He recognized the three— James Potter, Sirius Black, and
Kingsley Shacklebolt in the front.
Quinn pulsed his magic and accelerated faster to force the three Aurors to
give up their pursuit. Contrary to his expectation, the three had no
problem keeping up with his speed and even a lot of the distance and
were now just on his tail. He frowned and turned forward. He thought of
the maximum speed of the fastest broom and upped his acceleration to
push his speed past that maximum limit.
But then a spell whizzed past Quinn, missing him by inches. His pupils
contracted, and his speed faltered because of the sudden surprise. It took
mere seconds for Quinn to shake the shock, but that was already too late.
Quinn clicked his tongue and twisted himself to face the three Aurors
while still flying away from them. He turned his head a smidge and let
another spell go past him.
A spell came from Sirius, immediately followed by James, and the link
continued by Shacklebolt. It was like archers alternating themselves to
shoot a continuous barrage of arrows— there wasn't a single skipped
beat, forming a chain of seamless spells.
Quinn grunted with furrowed brows. They could see him— but Quinn
knew of that possibility— invisibility spells didn't work well while
moving, especially when moving at his current speed.
He couldn't run away from this. He could leave them in dust in terms of
flight speed, but that was a problem as flying was something that took a
lot of his focus, and there was a high enough risk of him getting hit by a
spell. And because of the same reason, he couldn't apparate out.
The only operation was a confrontation.
Or. . .
Quinn glanced down and saw a small town beneath him. It took a split
second to make his decision. He cut his forward acceleration,
simultaneously creating a partial vacuum beneath him that sucked him
down at a revved rate. It must have been surprising because there was a
noticeable pause in the spell barrage before they continued.
Quinn sped up his descent, and soon he was on the tarmac road in a
fortunately deserted street, and he hit it running— Quinn didn't wait for
a second and dashed out of the main road into a gap between the
buildings.
'Shit!' he cursed as the other side of the narrow alleyway was another
wide street.
As he came to a skidding stop on the concrete of a manhole cover just as
a spell blasted the tiles off the paved ground. Quinn looked up and saw
Sirius on the other side of the alleyway, flying.
"Surrender," came a voice directly above him where James came into
sight.
A yellowish dome suddenly covered the area around them, and Quinn
could see Shacklebolt casting the dome.
He was cornered.
"We don't want this to get messy," said Sirius. "It'd be better for all if you
come with us peacefully. If you resist, it will get ugly quick, and after
what happened before, we don't want that, do we."
Quinn didn't respond, instead kept an eye on all three Aurors and began
trickling his magic, slow enough that even the trained Auror couldn't
detect the flow of magic. It was better for him to get them by surprise,
especially in the current situation.
"Invisible Vigilante," Shacklebolt spoke from above, "I am Captain Auror
Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Auror Office and the DMLE have issued an
arrest order for you. . . you might think that your actions are doing good
for society, but the truth of the matter is that they have been against the
law— which is there for a reason. Your blatant disregard of the law is
dangerous not only for you but also for those who might take inspiration
from you and go down a path that will harm them— unlike you, not all
are well-versed in the magical arts.
So it is imperative that you stop your actions and come with us. If you
come with us now, I can guarantee that the prosecution will be lenient on
your case— even the Minister would support leniency."
"It is a great deal that not many if any get," said James from above. "We
want you to work with us against the Death Eaters— if you are of help,
we can work a deal for you. Isn't that what you want? The demise of the
Death Eaters— just imagine the DMLE working towards your goal with
resources much greater than yours."
Quinn listened to them and stood straighter and spoke in the distorted
voice of the Invisible Vigilante,
"No."
The Aurors seemed disappointed; they exchanged glances before looking
down at Quinn.
"Then we will have to take you by force," said James.
Quinn replied, "Goodbye."
He tapped his foot on the manhole cover below him. The magic that
Quinn had been tricking in secret had corroded the concrete, so when
Quinn tapped it, the concrete broke, and the cover sunk down into the
sewers, taking Quinn with it.
The Aurors faces exploded with shock and surprise. They recovered
swiftly. . . but it wasn't fast enough as a — POP! — greeted their ears.
.
Quinn West - Invisible Vigilante - Cornered. . . but not trapped.
James, Sirius, Shackelbot - Three Auror-teers - Bakana!
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Dhoom 2— if someone gets the reference.
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342. Chapter 342: Visible
Vigilante
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Quinn pulled the Noir gear off of him in one of the many alleyways that
he had ended up memorizing in cases he needed an empty place. . . for
situations like the current one.
"That was close."
He hadn't expected the Aurors to spot him and chase him down while
they were on the Death Eater transport assignment. So it surprised him to
see two Senior Aurors and a Captain Auror on his pursuit.
"I need to figure out a better invisibility spell. . . these ones aren't clearly
working under high speeds."
He had thought that the night of the sky would work for him to cover up
for the limitations of the spell, but his assumption was faulty— at least,
the Aurors were able to spot him. It didn't help when an Auror was
actively looking for him.
"Damn, Aurors. Why couldn't they just do their job? Why do they need to
follow me— this is all Amelia Bones' fault— why did she have to set up a
task force."
It was clear from Shackelbolt's words that the Aurors Office wanted the
information they thought he had. They were even willing to strike a deal.
'Though I can't think Rufus Scrimgeour would be willing to strike a deal
with a vigilante out of his control.' The new Head of DMLE didn't seem to
be a negotiating person. Which meant that Amelia Bones must've really
rallied for the task force, thought Quinn.
He stepped out of the alleyway into a partially busy street and began
wandering around without a destination in mind. He didn't want to
return home just yet with his filled with thoughts swirling with Aurors,
Death Eaters, and Invisible Vigilante. So he decided to have a walk to
clear up his head.
His thoughts soon wandered to the chase. Quinn wondered if his choice
to drop into the town was correct, or should he have continued flying
and tried something else.
'It was luck that the alleyway had a manhole cover, or things would've
gotten real ugly fast.'
The escape through the manhole cover was a way for him to leave the
conflict without violence. It was clear to Quinn that if he hadn't found
the manhole cover and escaped using the sewers— a fight would've
ensued, and because of his choice, the location would've been a town
instead somewhere detached from the general population. There
would've been property damage and even a possibility of a non-magical
getting implicated and injured.
Quinn didn't want that to happen. He was confident that even with three
trained Aurors, who probably had more technical and practical
experience than him, he would've come out victorious. He was
comfortable in the Invisible Vigilante's fighting style and magical usage—
it wasn't an overreach to say that he was more familiar with it than he
was with 'Quinn West's' fighting style.
But Quinn preferred to avoid violence and destruction. He wasn't very
keen to leave a magical footprint in such a way that would harmful
attention to the magical world and take work to cover and fix it up. And
Quinn's fight with the three Aurors would've done substantial damage to
the town.
'If that happened, the lenient Auror's department could turn their stance.'
Which was something Quinn didn't want as it not only made him a prime
enemy for the Death Eaters but also a target of capture for the Auror—
who would remove the 'handle with care' sticker from the box he was.
"Who knew that being a vigilante, an outlaw, would have to worry about
so many things. This job is tougher than I thought it would be."
But, Quinn was sure that now that the Invisible Vigilante would be
appearing more and more from now on.
"I wonder. . . how would this shape things up."
For now, he had other work to do.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
"He escaped?" said Amelia Bones to four Aurors sitting in the conference
room with her. She looked down at the report and expanded, "Escaped
through. . . the sewers."
She looked at Rufus Scrimgeour, Kingsley Shackelbolt, James Potter, and
Sirus Black.
"How did he manage to escape a Captain Auror and two Senior Auror
when they had managed to trap him in an alleyway?"
The Aurors remained silent, with Scrimageour looking at his
subordinates, looking for answers.
"He got lucky, ma'am," started Sirius, "if he hadn't found that exit, we
would've him a room with us— making him spill all of his secrets."
"That sounds like an excuse, Auror Black. I do not like excuses, you know
that, right?"
"Yes, Minister."
Amelia sighed. They had come this close to the Invisible Vigilante, but he
had again slipped away. She picked up the report and glanced through it
when she found a line that jumped out off the page.
"He can fly?" she looked up at three Aurors who were part of the
confrontation. "What does this mean? He wasn't using a broom?"
"He wasn't on a broom; we can say that with certainty," James nodded.
"There were many observations that led us to believe that the Invisible
Vigilante can fly without the use of a broom. First, Junior Auror Graham
reported that he found the Invisible Vigilante standing atop the prisoner
cage, visible— there was no broom in his possession."
Sirius picked up from there, "When I spotted him initially, I kept an eye
on him, and from the distortions in the magic, I could tell that he wasn't
on a broom. It got progressively clearer when we were chasing him that
he wasn't using one. Then he was completely exposed when he dropped
his disillusionment, and there was no broom anywhere near him."
"Unaided flight?!"
Amelia knew surprise when she felt it. A wizard who could fly without a
broom? That was something she didn't think she would listen to today. It
was a long established fact that unaided flight wasn't something possible
ever in the history of magic.
"No, it wasn't unaided flight," said Shacklebolt. "Yes, he didn't use a
broom, but the magic he used wasn't true flight magic. We can
confidently say that the Invisible Vigilante is a master in using wind
magic. He used wind magic to get rid of the Death Eater—"
"— How many of the Death Eaters were we able to find?" asked Amelia.
The report didn't mention what had happened or what was the progress
of the Death Eaters that had initiated the attack.
"We are trying to find them. . . it is difficult to find them when they were
whipped out by a wind tornado," said Sirius. "If they made it alive, it
would be too late to find them, but if they didn't, we will either get to
them first, or there will be news in the muggle newspaper."
Amelia massaged her index finger on her temple.
"This will be a problem," she said to Scrimgeour— but her tone was more
of asking.
Scrimgeour nodded his cold lion-like eyes looking indifferent, "If we find
a dead Death Eater," and from the look of it, he didn't mind finding one,
"it would open a case— or multiple— of murder against the Invisible
Vigilante. If that happens, the current policy would need to go an
overhaul."
"I know, of course, I know," she sighed. Amelia wanted to say that she
hoped there would be no dead bodies but couldn't say it because that
would show an unfavorable amount of favor for someone whose every
appearance was associated with breaking laws.
"What should be our stance on this?" asked Kingsley. "The incident is
going to be leaked to the public sooner or later— we can put a gag order
on it and stop it for a while, but if it gets out after a wait— the impact is
going to be larger than before, and we will have to answer why we hid
the matter in the first place."
"Don't do that. Tell your teams not to talk about it, but don't mention that
it's official. There will be no official memo on the matter," Scrimgeour
fiddled with the ring on his finger. "For now, what we can do is to put
the information as sensitive as part of an ongoing investigation."
"That seems to be the best course of action," Amelia agreed.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Rivers Lock sat down in the Malfoy lounge with a drink in his hand,
picked from the Malfoy cellars. He let down his shoulders as he relaxed
and raised his glass to take a sip, but before the rim could reach his lips,
a voice sounded.
"What did you find?"
Rivers hand paused and glanced towards the source and saw Peter
Pettigrew sitting on a chair in the corner, covered in darkness.
"I can switch on the lights if you want," asked Rivers.
"You went fact-finding, did you not?" said Pettigrew. "Does the DMLE
have anything on the Invisible Vigilate?"
Rivers lifted his glass again and took a sip, savoring it before he finally
answered, "They know nothing other than that he can fly."
"We also know that. What else?"
"It seems that some of Auror chased after the Invisible Vigilante; they had
some sort of confrontation— the details on that are tight— but the clear
thing is that they couldn't capture him. He gave Potter, Black, and
Shacklebolt the slip."
Pettigrew showed no emotion, but there was a light in his eyes.
"How many of them have returned?" asked Rivers.
"Half of them."
"What do you think about the other half?"
Peter shrugged, "They're either dead, or they deserted in fear of
retaliation from the Lord. The news of Lucius' punishment had an. . .
effect—"
Rivers took it from there, "If Lucius Malfoy can't escape the punishment,
then what about them. . . . They might have thought running would be a
chance to break away."
"Fools," scoffed Pettigrew. "By running away, they have brought upon
death upon them. When the Lord returns, he will hunt them down."
"Or they could be dead."
"They could be."
Rivers took a sip and let the silence swirl. "When's the Lord going to
return?"
"That. . . only he knows."
"What is he doing."
Pettigrew stared at Rivers with a flat smile, "You could've asked these
questions to him rather than trying to get information from me."
"Nothing like that," said Rivers with a similar smile. "I missed the timing
to ask the questions, and you're his trusted. . . so you'd know. Am I
wrong?"
"Who knows. . . who knows," said Pettigrew, his smile growing more
plastic.
"About the Invisible Vigilante. . ." Rivers knew that he wasn't going to get
more answers from Pettigrew, so he switched the topic. "Who is he? I
have been trying to find his identity, but no one seems to even know the
color of his hair."
". . . He's a mystery," said Pettigrew. "The fact that he dared to face the
Dark Lord means that he is either confident in his magic to get alive, or
he's an idiot. I'm betting on the former."
"How do you think the Lord's going to react to this?"
"He has been neutral about the Invisible Vigilante. . . which I find
uncharacteristic for him. He has been a hindrance one too many times. . .
I do not know why I haven't seen a single shred of anger or even
annoyance. I do not know what he's thinking."
Rivers sipped his drink. Unlike Pettigrew, he had seen something in the
Dark Lord's eyes.
Curiosity.
.
Quinn West - MC - I wonder a lot
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343. Chapter 343: Two Tracks
Merging
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Quinn walked down the stairs of his briefcase. Ever since Hogwarts, it
had become a place where he spent substantial time. After all, the
entirety of his research had shifted from the AID workshop and the Room
of Requirement to the corridor of rooms present inside the expanded
confines of the briefcase.
He stopped in front of a royal blue door with a pearl white owl with
intelligent human-like eyes. The owl seemed angry and stared at Quinn
with a piercing glare. Thinking of the inspiration behind the door art
made a blissful smile bloom on Quinn's face. He opened the door and
stepped into the pitch dark room with the open door as the only source of
light.
It shined a light on the world on the sole object in the room.
"Wake up," he said.
The white-bearded man in the magical portrait roused from his sleep and
cracked open his eyes, narrowing them to adjust to the light. When he
looked at Quinn, the blank face turned into one of great anger, so much
so that the man's pale skin flushed red.
"You!" thundered Merlin, as if wanting to break out of the photo frame.
"Who do you think you are?! I am Merlin, the Grand Sorcerer of the King
Author's Court! The premiere Enchanter of the free lands. How dare you
imprison me in here? Release me at once or face the wrath of magic and
nature's smite!"
Quinn's chuckled.
"What is so amusing," Merlin's voice seemed filled with poison.
"Oh, nothing much," Quinn clapped his hands for the MLEs in the room
lit up. "This makes me cognizant of the fact that the development of
magic didn't end with your death. The fact that there's so much more
magic that you don't know, but I do— that brings me so much elation."
Portrait magic had much progress after Merlin's death. While he could
travel to every portrait in Hogwarts, but if his image was taken out of
Hogwarts, Merlin wasn't able to return to the castle. On the other hand,
Phineas Black, a Hogwarts headmaster, could travel between his portrait
in the headmaster's office and the one in the Grimmauld Palace.
When Quinn found that interesting fact, he exploited it to exact some
revenge.
"How was it? Feeling panic, anxiety, and fear after so much time— all
those emotions that must've become foreign to you after so much time.
You had wide access in Hogwarts— the means to go anywhere, and
everywhere you wanted. . . . But here you are, having all that taken away
— locked in a room by a person who has a grudge against you, hates you
even. . . not knowing if you'd ever see anything other than the blackness
of the dark.
How does it feel? I hope it was jolly fun."
Quinn knew he was getting revenge against a portrait— an image of
Merlin— and not the real man, but it sated his need for the sweet
payback.
Merlin gritted his teeth. The ancient wizard's blue eyes seemed to be
burning cold flame. He took a deep breath and retreated to a stoic
appearance.
Quinn didn't mind that and conjured a chair in front of the floating
portrait.
"I have some questions to ask," said Quinn nonchalantly, as if he couldn't
see the anger.
"Why would I answer you?!"
"Do you want to spend the rest of eternity in darkness? If that's the case,
I'm happy to give you some privacy."
Merlin seemed that he didn't want anything more than to cast Killing
Curse from his eyes.
Seeing that Merlin didn't have anything to speak, Quinn continued, "What
can you tell me about spatial magic."
"Spatial magic," Merlin's glare softened only a smidge. "What do you want
to know?"
"I'm currently dwelling more into the intricacies of spatial magic. I
thought, who better start than the Grand Sorcerer of the King Author's
Court! The premiere Enchanter of the free lands. So how about it, Mr. Big
Shot, what can your old wise magically created head teach the young
naive me— I see thy guidance."
". . . I spent time researching the secrets of spatial magic. While I can't
demonstrate them, I can guide you to the correct course— help you not
stray from the wrong paths."
"That would be great," smiled Quinn, folding his legs and taking out a
small notebook and pen.
"What would I get?" Merlin spoke the second Quinn stopped.
Quinn quirked a brow, "Do you want to spend another indefinite amount
of time locked here in this room?"
"I want to be given some freedom. I want you to give me access to a place
with many portraits and charm them so I can pass through them."
"You're in no condition to negotiate, portrait."
"But I'm no ordinary portrait, am I, Mr. Quinn West," said Merlin with his
eyes full of confidence. "I have a horde of knowledge inside me that you
can't extract. . . only I can give them to if I wish to do so."
"You don't know that. I have a way to turn you into something that
would answer every question of mine."
"Oh, but you don't. You wouldn't be here talking to me if you had a way
to do that. I won't pretend to know you inside out, but I have observed
enough to know that if you had a way, you would have already used it. I
would "
Quinn sighed and closed the notebook with the pen as a bookmark. "Why
couldn't you be more gullible. . . . I'll give you access to one more frame
— ask any more than that, and I'll leave you here. How about it."
Merlin nodded, seemingly satisfied.
"Good, then let's continue," said Quinn while thinking, 'I guess the
portrait isn't the same as the real thing— he didn't make me specify the
place.
"What do you want to learn?"
"Tell me about the Taboo curse. . ."
Then the lecture began.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Quinn was at the breakfast table eating his breakfast while reading the
newspaper when George came into the room fully dressed and looking
ready to leave.
"You're going somewhere?" asked Quinn.
"Germany," said George tersely.
"Oh, a nice business deal?"
"No, a problem."
Quinn quirked his brow but didn't look up from the papers. "What
happened? Someone made a mistake?"
"No. But half our partner alliances in Germany suddenly pulled out doing
business with us. . . all together yesterday morning."
That made Quinn's both brows shoot up. "What? Half! What happened?"
"The Dark Lord happened."
". . . The Dark Lord?" Quinn dropped everything and solely concentrated
on the conversation.
"He went to Germany and swayed the pureblood supremacist to drop
business with us; those he wasn't able to get, he threatened," George
didn't sound happy.
Quinn knew that there were not many things that would make his
grandfather angry— and business going bad was a thing that always
made him furious.
"Why would the Dark Lord suddenly attack our business?"
"To get me off his back, of course. Do you know how much work and
effort it is going to rebuild our business? I can't bring back our partners; I
can't trust them. Finding new ones that could match them would take a
great amount of vetting and due diligence, and even then, it is going to
be a while before we reach the same revenue benchmarks.
I knew I shouldn't have gone the alliance route and built our own. Why
did I expect competence and honor from those bigoted morons?"
"So the Dark Lord thought you'd be hurting his operations here, so
decided to disrupt your in another country to occupy your time. . . . What
are you going to do?"
"I am going to take care of Germany, of course. I'm not going that mad
man ruin my business anymore; he has already done enough of that.
When I'm done in Germany, I will pull his operation here Death Eater by
Death Eater."
". . . Or, I take over the retaliation against the Dark Lord and his Death
Eaters."
George turned his stern eye to Quinn, his eyes narrowing. "Didn't I say we
were going to stay away."
"I'll stay away. I'm just going to follow what you'd do and not the bone-
breaking you think I'm going for. I will handle matters. . . peacefully—
Mahatama Gandhi— non-violence. All that stuff that you love. How
about it?"
"I'm not sure—"
"I am an adult, grandfather. I have plenty of experience using favors, I'm
charming, and well, I know Legilimency, and as long it is for a just cause,
I'm willing to offer my services as Legilimens. And what cause more just
than to bring trouble to the Dark Lord. So what you say, shall we show
the Dark Lord the might of the Wests."
If George's face was any indication, he wasn't impressed. ". . . I do not
like it," he said.
"But you know I'll be good at it."
There was a long silence in which Quinn and George stared at each other,
smiling other severe, until George sighed, "You can do it."
"Thank you!"
"But. . ."
"There's always a but," Quinn sighed.
"You'll do things the way I say you do. Meaning that you'll go to the
people I send you to do what I want you to do. I'll leave it to you how
you want to accomplish my given tasks, but other than that, you'll have
no additional input. Agreed?"
"So, I'm going to your execution man."
". . . I wouldn't put it in those words, but yes."
"Alright. . . I agree. Your wish will be my command."
"My commands will be your commands."
"Oh, come on, we had a good thing going on."
George shook his head. He picked up the cup of juice that Polly had
packed him and left without saying another word.
"Well, that was great. Now both of me can get involved."
Quinn West in meetings, behind the doors, cracking down on influential
people's authority. Invisible Vigilante in the field, behind the mask,
breaking down on Death Eater's bones.
"Here, I thought with AID over, I would be free. . . . Wait a minute, what
am I, Batman?! No. . . I'm better— Bruce Wayne was a bum. Quinn West's
a total badass. Yeah, I'm better. . ."
Polly popped up in the room and asked, "Would Little Master like some
sweet cereal?"
"Yes, please."
.
Quinn West - MC - Two lives on the same track. . . a good thing or bad.
Merlin - Portrait - Teaching for his freedom.
George West - Grandfather - Or Godfather.
FictinOnlyReader - Author - Sorry for the shorter chapter. This chapter
just ended this way, and it seems it'll take me some time to adjust to my
new living situation. [Written On April 5, 2022.]
.
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or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
344. Chapter 344: Converging
Paths?
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Patreón.
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Elliot entered the gardens of the West property, stretching his shoulder to
relieve some stiffness. It had been longer than usual since he had got to
spend some time at home, away from all the strains of work. All the
problems in Germany had sapped all of Elliot's energy and were taxing
enough that he wished he could take a vacation.
He was about to move to the corner where he had planted herbs on his
own when he chanced upon Quinn laying on the ground, spread eagle.
"Is something bothering you," asked Elliot.
Quinn groaned and kept groaning until he said, "I am old."
". . . You just turned eighteen, young master. You're in no way or form
old."
". . . My magic stopped growing yesterday," said Quinn, his eyes staring
at the sky.
"Your magic?"
"The flux period, I exited it yesterday," sighed Quinn.
The flux period of growth. When a magical human turned eleven, they'd
enter a state of magical flux where their magic would grow even if they
didn't use any— magic being a muscle would grow with use, and during
the flux period, magic would grow at an incredible rate if regularly
utilized. Quinn had been using as much magic as he could every day ever
since he could remember— it wasn't an exaggeration that he had larger
magic reserves than anyone his age. Quinn was even sure that he had
larger reserves than Dumbledore and Voldemort.
However, the flux stage as it was appropriately named. . . a stage. It had
to come to an end. It was observed that the flux stage would pass when a
magical would pass at the end of the seventeenth year and around the
eighteen birthday.
Quinn, who had just recently turned eighteen, had passed the age limit,
and today, his magical core had finally matured to an adult's. The magic
inside him was still capable of growth, albeit at a very slow rate.
He had thought his flux stage would continue for another four years
because of his transmigration status, but it seemed that he was too
optimistic in his thinking.
"This sucks!" There was a feeling of stagnation inside his body. If his
magic had been free before, as if he was walking through the air, now it
seemed like it had been forced to walk inside a vat of viscous liquid that
pulled on his every movement to move forward.
Elliot laid down beside Quinn and faced up, also looking at the sky.
"Doesn't it signify that you're ready?" he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Now that your magic core has matured, doesn't that signify that you're
ready for a magical journey, your magical journey? That you're done
with preparation and have all the tools you'll need to progress, and now
you can fully give it all."
"I've been giving it all since a long ago," said Quinn before sighing. "I
understand what you're saying, but it is hard to accept that the same
amount of effort won't be paying the same level of dividends. "
"So you won't be doing it anymore?"
"I don't feel like it," said Quinn. He could somewhat understand why
Voldemort had gone down the path of artificial modifications— and he
had just been off of the growth just for one day.
"Then don't," said Elliot. "It must've been tiring to expend all of your
magic every day. It won't be bad for you to take a break from it."
Quinn reached into his pocket and showed Elliot a golf-sized ball of shiny
metal that reflected in many colors. "This is lead. . . I have had this ball
since I started Hogwarts. Lead is a metal that's difficult to manipulate and
meld through magic— it takes a lot of magic and requires a decent
amount of focus to perform operations without exploding the metal.
Since I got it, I have been doing it, and this ball has seen at least sixteen
hours of contact with magic every day. . . . I just can believe that I'll be
stopping.
How're you doing? You look tired," asked Quinn.
"The mess in Germany isn't sorting out as we expected it would. The fact
remains that they're foreign and we indigenous, is creating unnecessary
friction. The partnership break is creating much more problems for us
than for them. It'll take some more time to sort the problems out so that
problems.
"How's grandfather doing?"
"Busy. I don't think he's going to stop until he thinks he's done, which
might take a while," saying that Elliot got up before saying his finishing
words, "Don't let the tension pile up in your heart. No matter what choice
you take— it should be the one that comes from your heart."
Quinn watched Elliot till he was gone before looking back at the sky. He
floated the lead ball up so he could see it and wondered if he should
continue with the exercise that, when compared to before, now seemed
pointless.
The lead ball distorted into a liquid consistency that thrummed with
spikes. It broke down into smaller pellets that then flattened into rings
that began rotating in front of his face.
". . . I'm a sucker of magic."
The lead continued to change shapes as Quinn stared at it from below,
wondering if there was someone he could go to. Merlin couldn't help him
on this— the flux period wasn't discovered in his time, and Merlin
himself hadn't done personal research on the subject. Quinn had written
to Alan, and even though he knew about it, he had never tried to push
his magic after his flux period, and even during it, Alan had been like any
typical teen when it came to increasing his magic reserves.
Quinn suddenly sat up with a sparkling look in his eyes. A golden idea
had struck him. It was genius, he thought.
"I know! I should go ask Grindelwald!"
It was time to take a trip.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Voldemort sat in a room with a poshness that oozed out from every
corner of the room. There was a glass of wine in his hand that he rose up
to his lipless mouth.
"You have been doing a fine job against George West," said Voldemort,
pleased. "He's been so busy that he doesn't have the time to raise an eyes
towards Britain."
"Dark Lord. . . we're already struggling with George West," said one of the
German pureblood. "At this rate, he will steal our business rather than us
his."
"Pulling out of the partnership has plunged us into the risk of future
losses that seem inevitable," sighed another pureblood. "This doesn't seem
to be looking to be a good deal."
A sudden chill descended into the room. There were a dozen or so people
in the room, and every single one of them looked at the one who had
spoken, their eyes practically screaming that he needed to stop.
"Handschuh. . . do you like your money more than your life?" asked
Voldemort. "George West will take your money but won't kill you. I, on
the other day, can take away your life and your money after that. . .
which one do you think is better."
Handschuh felt his feet go cold. "N-No, my apologies, My Lord."
"Hmm. . ."
Handschuh wasn't over yet; he gathered up his courage and spoke, "M-My
Lord, if-f I may."
Voldemort lazily waved his hand, so Handschuh continued, "I was a bar
when I heard a name. . . ."
"What name might that be?"
". . . Gregorovitch."
The wine in Voldemort's hand trembled. He turned to Handschuh with
his eyes being a mix of excitement and danger, "I hope you're not jesting,
Handschuh, are you?"
"N-No, M-My Lord. I heard it clearly. They were talking about
Gregorovitch. . . and you were looking for him. . . ."
"Tell me more about it, Handschuh, and I will forgive your previous
unsightliness."
"T-Thank you, M-My Lord. . ."
.
.
.
.
Voldemort glided along a twilit street. The buildings on either side of him
had high, timbered gables; they looked like gingerbread houses. He
approached one of them, then saw the whiteness of his own long-fingered
hand against the door. He knocked. He felt a mounting excitement. . . .
The door opened: A laughing woman stood there. Her face fell as she
looked into Voldemort's face: humor gone, terror replacing it.
"Gregorovitch?" said a high, cold voice.
She shook her head: She was trying to close the door. A white hand held
it steady, preventing her from shutting him out.
"I want Gregorovitch."
She cried, shaking her head. "He doesn't live here! He doesn't live here! I
don't know him!"
Abandoning the attempt to close the door, she began to back away down
the dark hall, and Voldemort followed, gliding toward her, and his long-
fingered hand had drawn his wand.
"Where is he?"
"He moved! I don't know, please, I don't know!"
He raised the wand. She screamed. Two young children came running
into the hall. She tried to shield them with her arms. His wand tip glowed
green—
"No!" A man burst into the room
Voldemort lowered his wand as the green grow subsided, and a smile
grew on his face, "It's good to see you, Gregorovitch."
.
.
.
.
"Give it to me, Gregorovitch," Voldemort's voice was high, clear, and
cold, his wand held in front of him by a long-fingered white hand.
He had just found out why his wand didn't work against Harry Potter's
and found another piece of exciting information. If his wand didn't work,
then he needed to get another— and if he was going to a new one, which
better but the best wand ever made.
Gregorovitch, at whom he was pointing, was suspended upside down in
midair, though no ropes were holding him; he swung there, invisibly and
eerily bound, his limbs wrapped about him, his terrified face ruddy due
to the blood that had rushed to his head. He had pure-white hair and a
thick, bushy beard: a trussed-up Father Christmas.
"I have it not. I have it no more! It was, many years ago, stolen from me!"
The hanging man's pupils were wide, dilated with fear, and they seemed
to swell, bigger and bigger.
"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Gregorovitch. Who was the thief,
Gregorovitch?!"
"I do not know, I never knew, a young man— no— please— PLEASE!"
"One last chance, wandmaker!"
Gregorovitch's eyes widened in horror as a memory surfaced in his mind:
Gregorovitch burst into the room at the end of the passage, and his
lantern illuminated what looked like a workshop; wood shavings and
gold gleamed in the swinging pool of light, and there on the window
ledge sat perched, like a giant bird, a young man with golden hair. In the
split second that the lantern's light illuminated him, Gregorovitch saw the
delight upon his handsome face, then the intruder shot a Stunning Spell
from his wand and jumped neatly backward out of the window with a
crow of laughter.
Voldemort's wand glowed in green again, and Gregorovitch's mouth
screamed wide open:
"GRINDELWALD!"
.
Quinn West - MC - Airtrip! Airtrip! Airtrip!
Elliot Dalton - "Sebastian" - Time to have a kickback.
Voldemort - Dark Lord - "Oh. . . ?"
Mykew Gregorovitch - Wandmaker - On a new adventure.
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345. Chapter 345: Nurmengard
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"Austria? Why're you going there?" Lia said, decanting a bottle of wine.
She raised the decanter and asked, "You want some?"
"No, thank you," Quinn attached his pockets to the inner lining of his thin
coat pocket. "As for Austria— I want to go mountain air-scaling—"
"What's mountain air-scaling?"
"Oh, you know, it's like climbing a mountain, but without actually
climbing it. I'm going to scale the Austrian Alps by flying and hovering
over the surface until I reach the top. When I get to the top, I'm going to
jump from the top with a gliding suit that I stitched on my own. . . .
Exciting activities and great weather are going to sum up to what I think
will be a really great weekend."
"Oh, that does sound exciting! Maybe I should also come."
"Don't you have work?"
Lia sighed and poured her Bordeaux glass with aerated, unlocked wine
and filled it a little too much over the one serving limit.
"Yes, I do. . ." she sighed. "Go to your stupid mountain air-scaling thing
alone. . . . Argh, it sounds so much fun!"
Quinn calmly smiled. Saying half-truths mixed with half-lies was the best
way to tell a lie. While he was going to Austria Alps and was going to
scale a mountain— but in no way he was going to do it for a fun activity.
"Alright, I'll see you on Monday," said Quinn.
"Bring me something cool from Australia."
"Austria."
". . . I'm drunk. . . already?"
Quinn chuckled and exited the West manor with a pocket full of travel
gear. Today was the day he was going to visit the impenetrable prison
created by the most successful Dark Lord of the century, more successful
than the current generation of the European Dark Lords: the Dark Lord of
deceit, the one owner of the Death Stick— Gellert Grindelwald.
It had been a while since he had felt such a burst of excitement inside in
heart. The pure exhilaration of unknown adventure with untapped
potential. He snapped his fingers with a grin, and the gates to the West
Manor melted away in the middle and remolded themselves back into
shape as he passed through them.
"This is going to be marvelous."
He snapped again, which became the precursor to the loud pop that
whisked Quinn away.
. . .
The Austrian Alps have the highest peaks of the entirety of the greater
Eastern Alps, extending from the foot of the Bergamasque Alps at Lake
Como and the Bernina Range in the Graubunden canton of eastern
Switzerland along the Liechtenstein shore of the Rhine in the west as far
as to the lower promontories east of the Mur River including the
Hochwechsel in Austrian Styria. The valleys of the rivers Inn, Salzach,
and Enns mark their northern boundary, the Drau river their southern
border.
They had great weather around the summers. It was neither hot nor cold,
just the right temperature with the glaciated terrain letting a cool breeze
throughout the mountain.
Quinn perused the map in his hands and turned his eyes up to look at the
Petzeck of the Schober Group of the Alps, standing at the height of 3,283
meters and the prominent location of the Nurmengard Prison. Quinn
closed the map, stretched his legs, and jumped against the ground to
push himself into the air. Winds surrounded him, and he flew at jet
speed, shovelling the snow dust to the sides from the air pressure. He air-
scaled the mountain and covered the ground faster than any or thing.
When he reached the location marked on the map, he rose up straight
into the air and rose until he could see the flat hilltop part of the larger
peaks. It was an assuming hilltop to others, but Quinn could feel the
tremendous magic activity that was practically oozing out in every
direction. Magic flowed into his eyes that shined in purple, and his
breath was taken away as the Nurmengard Prison came into view.
Nurmengard was a stone fortress at the edge, overlooking a deep ravine
where falling didn't have any other result other than death. It had a
square-edged tower with a cone-shaped top, possibly a watchtower.
There was a building connected to the tower that was slim with windows.
It did not look impressive any right, and from the outside simply looked
like any other rugged and unimpressive building.
But Quinn could tell the truth. Even from his place, he could tell the
actual impressiveness.
He flew down and landed on the boundary of the wards and spells with
the sole intent to keep unwanted, uninvited people out— and Quinn was
precisely that, an unwanted visitor. He scaled a wall and stood on the top
of it as he stretched his hand forward, and a layer of magic as it passed
over his hand.
"One. . . Two. . . Three. . ."
As counting uttered past his lips, Quinn studied how the ward interacted
with his arm. Every single detail that he could observe was taken in and
processed to form conjectures and conclusions.
". . . Six. . . Seven—"
He pulled his hand back. Seven seconds was the limit unauthorized
personnel could remain on the prison grounds without alerting the
guards. . . . It made Quinn frown deeply. The ward was weak—
pathetically weak for the reputation that Nurmengard held.
"I can break these. . . like this," Quinn snapped his finger, and a red spot
appeared before him, illuminating the previously hidden ward. Quinn
stepped forward and passed through the ward boundary into the "official"
prison space.
Quinn slowly moved through the grounds, taking each step carefully.
Who knew what crazy Grindelwald had planned into the prison.
Suddenly, behind a wall, Quinn stopped on the spot when he saw a guard
dressed in stark white appear from the corner. Quinn remained still
under the guise of invisibility, watching the guard lazily and carelessly
stroll through the grounds. Quinn narrowed his eyes, raised his arm, and
shot a spell into the back of the guard knocking him out.
After a thorough mental search, Quinn found the answers he was looking
for. The grounds were harmless enough if the correct paths were
followed; the real danger laid inside the prison. . . especially for those
who were spell-marked as prisoners.
Quinn followed everything the guard did to traverse the prison, knocked
out the equally careless guards in his path, and eventually reached the
topmost floor and, thus, the topmost cell while feeling that something
was very wrong. Before he stepped in front of the cell, he put on his Noir
gear and mask.
The cell was a standard cell with bars in the front, and behind those
doors was a man. He had no hair, his teeth were rotten, his fingernails
had turned yellow, and the man looked like a sack of skin hanging over a
skeletal frame. His piercing blue eyes, sunken into the depths of his skull,
were the only feature that time had not faded.
"Hmm?" a hoarse voice came from behind bars— as if they hadn't spoken
for ages. "Who might you be?"
". . . I am Noir," said Quinn. Even though he had been termed as the
Invisible Vigilante, he wasn't the one who came up with said moniker.
"Noir. . . I see," the man got up from his cot, almost falling over as he did
so. The man looked like he would keel over by the gentlest of winds. He
came to beside the bar but didn't touch it. "And, Noir, why have you
come to Nurmengard. . . this place isn't much of a sightseeing location.
Oh, forgive me. How rude of me not to introduce myself. My name's
Gellert Grindelwald. . . but you must know that already; after all, I'm the
only one who lives in the castle."
Gellert Grindelwald had designed a prison so formidable and terrible –
both from the inside and the outside – that the International
Confederation of Wizards had deemed it too cruel to use on common
prisoners. Only the leaders of his Dark Army had ever been imprisoned
here. His army, more than any others, knew just how much effort their
master had put into the spells guarding these walls. . . all of those leaders
had long past away.
". . . Why're the enchantments outside so weak?" asked Quinn.
"Oh? They're weak," said Grindelwald, and Quinn quirked his brow
behind his mask when he heard the voice getting smoother and less
hoarse. "ICW and Dumbledore. . . Do you know Dumbledore?"
"Yes.
"Good. ICW and Dumbledore made changes to my masterpiece, soiling
my creation. Dumbledore did a decent job," Grindelwald looked at the
bars in front of him, "he added his own enchantments to this cell. . . I
haven't had the chance to witness those; he hid them quite thoroughly. I
wonder what they do.
It wasn't necessary, though. Mine are enough to keep even me. . . at least
me of now inside.
The ICW— those guys infuriate me," there was a heated passion heat in
his voice, "I always assumed they made mistakes. . . I haven't been
outside of this cage ever since I got in, so I never knew," he smiled with
his rotted teeth, "thank you for telling me. Those nitwits couldn't
comprehend my genius and soiled the perfection that I had created. . ."
Indeed Grindelwald's mind, one of the greatest in the history of the
century, had continually upgraded and improved upon his prison over
the entire course of his campaign. Gellert knew of every enchantment he
placed on Nurmengard, and he knew there was no way around them.
When the ICW first sent their team of enchanters to increase the security
of his cell, they thought they found several flaws in his containment
spells, as Grindelwald knew they would. They tried to correct the flaws,
only to spend their last moments alive wondering why their necks were
bleeding. In the years that would follow, no less than five guards were
killed as they attempted to fool around with the prison's enchantments.
The last death led to the virtual abandoning of the upper levels of the
prison; house-elves were left to deliver food and remove any waste from
the few surviving prisoners.
"It was a surprise to hear footsteps on the cold floor. It has been ages
since I heard human footsteps— I thought I had forgotten them," Quinn
tapped the side of his head, "but it seems they were still there."
Quinn had no doubt in the statement. Grindelwald's eyes gave it all away.
Unlike every other part of his being, the eyes shined like gems— they
were intelligent, deep, focused, and a reminder of the man that had once
been.
"I apologize if I seem talkative, but I haven't had a guest in so long. Just
your presence in front of me is the most interesting thing that happened
to me in decades. Why don't you speak some more? I would like to hear
your voice. . . your real voice, and not the altered one. . . would you
please offer this old man this small wish."
There was a silence for a minute before Quinn opened his mouth in a
normal voice, "Hello, Gellert Grindelwald—"
"Your real voice," Grindelwald cut him off at once, his eyes taking what
seemed was clear to be anger. "I may be old and frail— but don't
disrespect me by thinking that I do not understand magic— I can still feel
the fluctuations magic this close to me. . . so do not jest with me."
". . . My apologies," said Quinn, this time in his real voice.
"No worries, no worries. May I ask why I have the pleasure of your visit?"
.
Quinn West - MC - Feeling a mix of emotions.
Gellert Grindelwald - Ex-Dark Lord - This is. . . interesting.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Was hella tired yesterday. 2(out of 8) weeks
done internship. 3rd week is on. . . . The work is. . . eh, okay. Am
learning a lot though, so can't complain a lot.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
346. Chapter 346: Two Met, One
Left
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
Patreón.
All the chapters would still be posted here, but you can support me with
a donation and get chapters earlier than usual as a bonus.
Link in the Bio/Profile
". . . May I ask why I have the pleasure of your visit?"
Quinn stared at Gellert Grindelwald. He was different from what Quinn
had imagined what a former Dark Lord would be like.
Grindelwald seemed almost desperate, but at the same time, Quinn
believed he understood where that desperation came from— human was
a social being and needed some amount of human interaction—
Grindelwald, from what Quinn could glean, had been deprived of that
human connection for decades.
'It is surprising that he has even retained his sanity. . . some of his sanity,'
thought Quinn. He found himself staring into Grindelwald's eyes— those
bright blue eyes— they were a clear tell-tale sign of the terrifying
Occlumency that had kept Grindelwald from descending into complete
madness.
"Well?"
". . . I would like to know about the flux period. . . specifically about how
to increase magic after it ends."
Grindelwald leaned away from the bars and hummed as a pensive
expression appeared on his face.
Quinn's eyes shined. Maybe Grindelwald knew something— the Dark
Lord had performed feats of magic that required a respectable reserve of
magic.
"Flux period. . . there are multitudes of ways to boost magic after the
sweet period parts. Would you like to know?"
Quinn nodded.
Grindelwald smiled, but when he spoke, the words that came out weren't
that Quinn was expecting, "I will require something in return," a clever
smile appeared in Grindelwald's eyes.
Quinn froze up for a second.
His eyes became cautious. "What do you want?" he asked.
"Show me your face."
"I refuse."
"Then we don't have an agreement, Mr. Noir."
"You're trapped in here, without any means to escape— what value does
knowing my face bring to you?"
"You're my sole visitor in decades, Mr. Noir. As you said, I have no means
to escape here and don't know when the next visitor will come, if they
ever will. So, if I'm going to help you, I demand that I know the face of
someone who might as very well be the last person I ever see."
". . . You're so desperate."
"Be that as may, you have my offer. Accept it, and I'll share my
knowledge, refuse it, and we may have a lovely chat where I'll withhold
the information you may or may not need."
Quinn pursed his lips. He should've known that getting information out
of Grindelwald wasn't going to be so straightforward. As much as Quinn
knew, if Voldemort reveled in violence, Grindelwald thrived with
information. Various streams of thoughts passed through his mind until
he decided that it was 'safe' to show Grindelwald his face.
'He hasn't met anyone for years and isn't going anywhere,' he thought.
"I'll comply," said Quinn, "I'll show you my face."
Grindelwald's face once again came close to the bars, just a finger's
breadth away.
Quinn raised his gloved hand to his mask, and with a click, the mask
came off. He lowered his hand and showed his face to Grindelwald.
"Now remove the magic over your face. . . I have to say, you must be
really confident in your magic to try that for a second time,"
Quinn held back a groan. He was confident in his magic and thought that
he'd be able to get past the somewhat magically-talented frail old man if
he made some adjustments. He sighed and pulled down the illusion over
his face.
"I knew it!" Grindelwald clapped happily.
". . . What?"
"I knew you were young," said Grindelwald, his eyes shining as bright as
stars, and the old man's entire being looked younger, more energized.
"The question about flux age was clearly indicative of your age, especially
when you came to Numengard with such a question."
Quinn's heart chilled. In his curiosity(and greed), all other thoughts, even
ones about his privacy, hadn't even come up. It was okay now that
Grindelwald knew of his face, but that didn't change the thought of a
'what-if' plaguing his mind?
"But I couldn't have guessed that you were so young. I had thought you of
being 20 years ago. . . or older. It is fascinating that somehow you were
able to able to break into Numengauard. . . you must be amazing at
magic."
"Tell me how to continue the growth of magic after the flux period," said
Quinn, cutting the chatter.
"Oh my, look at you— so much hurry," chuckled Grindelwald. "Well, to
answer your question. . . there's no organic method to keep up that level
of growth"— Quinn's pupils shrunk— "but what you can do is perform
some rituals that'll be able to stimulate your already matured core— and
make it balloon up in size. . ."
Grindelwald went on to explain in great detail the use of rituals and
magical modifications to increase the size of the magic core, and with
each other method, Quinn's eyes darkened. Every method was viler than
before, and while they seemed legit answers to Quinn's question, most of
them sounded like something that someone like Voldemort would use—
or maybe had already used. He didn't utter a single syllable until
Grindelwald was done speaking, and even after that, he kept quiet.
He had revealed his secret identity to a manipulative Dark Lord in vain.
". . . and that's about what I know," said Grindelwald. "Would you like to
know something else? In return, I'd like to know your name."
"No, thank you," said Quinn and put his mask back on. He wasn't going to
give any information more of his personal information to the man.
Grindelwald's smile remained the same, "Then how about we chat. That
wouldn't cost you much."
"No, thank you," said Quinn promptly.
Grindelwald's smile dimmed. He sighed and straightened his back as
much as he could. "I expected more from when someone could come to
meet me, but I suppose not all can go as per expectation. . . but how
about you stay here for a little while. . ."
Quinn had turned away when his pupil's shrunk. He felt as if chains had
slithered over his body, individual links clenching over his body as if
trying to suffocate him. Quinn couldn't even move away from his spot.
He cranked his neck back and glared at Grindelwald.
"Let me go."
"No."
"Let. Me. Go. Grindelwald."
"You should stay here, and we can have a civil conversation."
Quinn gritted his teeth, burst his magic out, and felt the chain loosen, but
the chains immediately snatched back onto his body, clenching again. He
tried again. Once again, Quinn felt the magic wash over him, and yet
again, his magic failed to break the spell around him.
"What are you doing, old man?" Quinn demanded, his magic lashing out.
"I'm warning you, let me go, or don't blame me for a backlash!"
"Are you quite done?" Grindelwald asked. "My desire to keep you here far
surpasses your desire to take it. Therefore, you're extremely unlikely to
be able to overpower me for it." Grindelwald laughed for the first time in
years. "Regardless of my body's appearance, my magic remains quite
strong. You're deluded if you think you can overpower me with such
brute force magic."
Grindelwald raised his hand, and Quinn was pulled near the cell, inches
away from the bars. For the first time since coming here, Quinn had the
sudden awareness of just who this prisoner used to be— and still was— it
hit him faster than the old dark lord's hideous breath. "Don't be like this,
Noir. Am I asking something outrageous? All I want to have is a talk."
"But I don't."
"You don't have a choice."
"I always have a choice!"
Quinn's magic flared again, and his eyes turned purple, making
Grindelwald jerk back. Quinn's magic started to balloon outwards,
making Grindelwald's binding push outwards.
"I can't overpower you with brute magic? Your magic is the same? I am
delusional?" Quinn scoffed with a grunt. "You're the one who's delusional
to think that your magic is the same. Magic is mind, body, and soul—
your mind has cracked, your body has deteriorated to this patheticness"
— Quinn's eyes switched to golden for a split second, and this time
Grindelwald's eyes were blown wide— "your soul, while still intact, is
already withered.
You are already a thing of the past, you skeleton. Don't push it."
Quinn's magic screamed and bit back. With all his strength, Quinn
pushed Grindelwald away, sending the old man tumbling backward and
falling into the stone floor.
Ignoring the pain in his back from the fall, Grindelwald pushed himself as
far back into the cell as he could.
"Don't try to hide that smile of yours. I'm not going to attack the cell— I
expect it to behead me or some other gorey thing."
Grindelwald cackled, "Oh well, it was a try—" Grindelwald's pupils
dilated as he turned towards the small barred window in his cell, and all
of a sudden, the old man had gone eerily silent.
". . . The snake's coming."
"What?"
Grindelwald turned to Quinn, "The snake's coming here, Quinn."
"How did you?!"
"It doesn't matter. . . while our talk has not ended well, I still appreciate
the small conversation we did have. If you leave here now, you'll escape
his presence."
"Who are you talking about?"
"The Dark Lord, the latest one."
Quinn's brows went above. Voldemort was coming here? Right now?!
"I'm leaving," said Quinn immediately. He turned to walk away. He had
heard about Grindelwald having seer blood inside him.
". . . Thank you for the talk, Quinn. I'm glad that you were the last one."
Quinn paused his step. Had Grindelwald foreseen his death? He turned to
face Grindelwald and seeing that the old Dark Lord spoke once again.
"If you could. . . tell Albus— I'm sorry for Ariana."
". . . Did you really?"
"So you know that. I don't know if I killed Ariana. I don't care who killed
the girl. If it helps, I don't mind bearing another death. It doesn't change
much for me. I guess I owe Albus that much."
Quinn didn't give any affirmation as he turned away from Grindelwald
with the rotten tooth smile the last image he had. Quinn had no
sympathy for Grindelwald— he was still a Dark Lord responsible for
countless lives lost— and as far as Quinn was concerned, the request was
just a ploy for sympathy to move Quinn enough that he would get
Grindelwald out of the prisoner cage to escape death.
He walked down the stairs and sprinted through the ground floor— he
needed to exit the prison grounds to apparate away from him. But as he
reached the main gate, Quinn came to a skidding stop. There was a slight
tremor coursing through the castle. It seemed Voldemort had arrived. It
seems ICW had done enough corruption to Grindelwald's spellcraft to
allow Voldemort to exploit a weakness in the plan.
Then he recalled Grindelwald telling him about Dumbledore casting
spells on Grindelwald's prison cage. And just when that line of thought
ended, the entirety of Numengard shook as if it was breaking down.
"Did he trap him inside?" thought Quinn. He shook his head, "It doesn't
matter—"
"NOOOOO!"
Quinn's soul shivered when he heard a baleful scream.
"That was Voldemort. . . . Grindelwald did do something."
The prison castle began shaking, and cracks appeared in the walls. Quinn
took that as a signal to leave and bolted out of the building and flew
outside the prison grounds just as the castle's top blew up. Quinn kept an
eye on the building from afar. A few seconds passed in silence until there
was an explosion, and the faraway figure of Voldemort came flying out at
a turtle's pace before apparating away.
"He's injured," Quinn muttered. "The old man must've used his magic to
escape and set up a trap for Voldemort."
Quinn glanced at the prison. There were guards inside that he had
knocked out. He sighed and headed inside to bring them to safety and dig
a Dark Lord's grave.
.
Quinn West - MC - Met one Dark Lord, missed another one.
Gellert Grindelwald - Dark Lord - Ploy or apologetic?
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Wrote a chapter between Voldemort and
Grindelwald.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the Bio!
347. Chapter 347: Für das
Größere Wohl
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
Patreón.
All the chapters would still be posted here, but you can support me with
a donation and get chapters earlier than usual as a bonus.
Link in the Bio/Profile
Grindelwald watched as Quinn disappeared down the stairs. He sighed.
The plan to invoke sympathy had failed.
"I wonder who he really is," he muttered. His seer blood was far from
perfect— it was already a surprise that he was able to get a name. But
having known the name and face, he couldn't help but wonder more
about the person named Quinn West. "Oh well, maybe I'll get to meet him
afterward," he sighed while glancing towards the small window.
His prison started to shake. The brick shook off old dust, his feet felt
tremors, and the debris rained on his old nest head. Grindelwald walked
to the edge of his cell— his knees were tired from standing— and sat
down on his thin, wet cot, and got to staring at the small window, the
only source of natural light that ever graced his body, but also from
where the cold mountain winds came which tortured his joints night
after night.
The window suddenly darkened, and a black mist came pouring into his
cell, spreading to the ceiling. The mist stuck to the top, bubbling and
freezing simultaneously. Grindelwald watched it calmly with his blue
eyes, studying with curiosity. The mist sank to the floor with a waterfall
and coagulated into a humanoid figure, giving shape to a lean and tall
man with slit-like red eyes, a flat nose, a bald head, ghostly white skin
wearing a loose black robe on his body.
"Grindelwald," spoke the unnatural man.
Grindelwald smiled with a bare grin, "Voldemort. I knew you'd be
coming."
Fifty-three years after his defeat, Grindelwald found himself not alone in
his prison cell; the prison had been infiltrated by the newest iteration
Dark Lord. He found it strange having someone this close while not being
separated by bars. He wanted to get up and touch Voldemort; he couldn't
do it with Quinn knowing that if he tried, the prison of his own creation
would retaliate. Grindelwald internally sighed. It wasn't like he could
peacefully touch Voldemort without getting cursed with some horrid
magic that his body couldn't bear, as it was now.
"Look at you, so frail and. . . weak," said Voldemort with a mocking
sneer. "Defeated by your enemy, jailed inside your prison created to hold
your enemies. What an insult— a stain on your accomplishments."
"And you were killed by a little babe. I will let you decide which is more
of a stain on accomplishments," smiled Grindelwald.
The sneer fell from Voldemort's face, his red pupils darkening as if a shot
of blood had been injected into them. "I will kill that little babe, but you,"
he looked Grindelwald up and down, "can't even stand against
Dumbledore. But don't worry, I'll take care of the old fool for you— so in
return, you tell me where the Elder Wand is."
Grindelwald's eyes threatened to widen, but he pulled on the reigns
known as Occlumency to keep his expression to the carefree— "mad"—
smile.
"The Elder Wand. . . ah, the Elder Wand. . . of course, the Elder Wand,"
Grindelwald's smiled as if listening to something amusing. "No wonder
you came to the humble abode. You can't defeat Albus with your own
power, so you want the help of a wand that'll push you over him. . . how
frail. . . and weak."
Voldemort's mouth pursed into a thin white line. "Tell me where it is,
Grindelwald."
Grindelwald laughed again as if hearing a joke.
Voldemort's bland expression twisted into a frown. He raised his wand,
clutched in his bony finger, and chanted— "Crucio." An invisible stream
of magic flared out of the wand and hit the skinny body of Grindelwald.
A scream pierced the prison cell's walls, and it continued till
Grindelwald's weak throat from not speaking much for decades screamed
soar.
"Now. . . tell me where is the Elder Wand, Grindelwald," said Voldemort,
his expression confident.
Grindelwald laid prone on his cot, coughing with his body shaking. He
used his skinny arms to push himself to sit up, leaning against the wall.
Grindelwald stared at Voldemort, his chest going up and down. . . until
when the ex-Dark Lord started to laugh again.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed angrily. His mouth twitched. He cast the
Cruciatus curse again. The pain again tortured Grindelwald's body,
cutting his laughter off and replacing it with screams.
"Answer the question," said Voldemort, stopping the magic.
Grindelwald took a while to sit up and raised his head to again look at
Voldemort with a mocking smile and spoke with a frail voice, "You know.
. . I've been here for decades. . . but it doesn't mean I've been completely
cut-off from the outside world. . . . The idiots who thought they could
improve upon my work ended up creating mistakes that I could exploit. .
. . The guards talk downstairs, and I listen. They told me about your
penchant for torture. . . but do you think torturing me would work on
ME?" Grindelwald looked at Voldemort as if he was bored, "I am Gellert
Grindelwald. Do you think your usual— crude— methods will work on
me?"
Voldemort stared down at Grindelwald, his expression not showing what
he was feeling. "Then let's try some other methods. . . . Legilemency!"
Grindelwald and Voldemort met eyes, and a connection was established
immediately. Grindelwald felt a metal probe thump against his shield and
his eye sharpened in focus. It had been a lifetime since he had felt a
mental attack— the last time had been after his capture with various
Aurors trying to extract information out of him; they, of course, had
failed.
"Is that the best you can do?" asked Grindelwald, scoffing. "If so, I care
for the wizarding going downhill in their capabilities."
Voldemort frowned.
Grindelwald felt the force of the mental attack increase, but he shook his
head, "I have been alone for a long time, Voldemort. I have a lot of time
on my hand, and mental practices have been common for me. . . and you
should know that Occlumency is much easier to improve than
Legilimency. Even without that, I have been practicing the mental arts
for longer than you have been alive, boy. Don't think I'll just roll over and
let you in."
Grindelwald winced; the pressure on his mind just went up. While he had
said what he said, his condition hadn't been good for the past fifty years.
What Quinn had been correct; his magical trifecta wasn't operating at the
level it should be— he could keep it up for a good while, but not long
enough.
Voldemort raised his wand and again launched a vile curse that struck
Grindelwald's body, who felt that his body had been plunged into
freezing cold water. His skin turned progressively paler, visible in real-
time with chattering teeth. Grindelwald's body shriveled up into itself
and dropped onto his cot once again.
"Let's see if you can still keep things hidden," said Voldemort.
Grindelwald felt as if a hippogriff had crashed into his mind. He gritted
his teeth and turned to Voldemort before breaking into laughter,
weakened by the cold, but he kept laughing.
Voldemort fumed in anger and curses after curses fell on Grindelwald's
prone body, while Grindelwald kept on laughing at Voldemort, who
failed to break into Grindelwald's mind.
"I-I-I have be-e-en. . . never ever been defeated, except by Dumbledore's
hand," said Grindelwald, his teeth chattering. "O-One time is enough. . .
a-and if there's going to be another, it is not going to be someone l-like
you," he laughed.
Voldemort's fury exploded, but he was about to launch a curse when he
stopped. He looked down at Grindelwald— and his frown turned into
surprise, which gave way to a smile.
"Only defeated only once, you say," he said. "Doesn't the Elder Wand
change masters on defeat. . . . If you were only defeated by Dumbledore,
then that means," his eyes widened, and anger started to bubble in them.
If Grindelwald was laughing before at Voldemort's failure, now he was
laughing at Voldemort's realization. "Oh, you realize it now, don't you.
The one who you hate the most has the thing you want so dearly. How
does it feel now? I feel it is fate." He started to shake with laughter.
Grindelwald didn't care if Voldemort knew or not. He had already spent
his prime here and was left behind by the world. He only cared that he
didn't get beaten by a disgrace like Voldemort.
"You have killed so many wizards and witches," said Grindelwald. "So
much magical blood spilled. So many lives that could've birthed more
magic dead. You started the war, wanting to prove that the wizarding
kind was superior to muggles. . . but all you did was to make them
weaker by killing so many. . . . You're a disgrace to the wizarding kind,
an enemy to magic. . . I hope you get killed by the hands of the Boy-Who-
Lived," Grindelwald raised his hand to point at his eyes, "I have seer
blood in me, so let me give you a prophecy— you're going to be killed,
Voldemort," he laughed, "you're going to get killed."
Voldemort raised his wand to Grindelwald, "You don't have to worry
about any of that, Gellert. If you kill me, you're going to regret it."
"A pathetic excuse for a pathetic man," said Voldemort and yelled—
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Grindelwald smirked as green filled his vision and uttered his last words,
"Ready to regret."
As the killing curse hit Grindelwald's body, an orange streak expunged
from his body and raced towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord didn't miss a
beat to defend himself, even while in surprise. While his defense worked,
a portion of the spell passed through his defense and seemingly got
absorbed into his body.
Voldemort's eyes bulged. He clutched above his heart and staggered. His
nose slits started to bleed as his body began quaking.
"NOOOOO!"
He waved his wand, and a yellow glow covered his body before it got
absorbed. He weakly looked to the ceiling and raised his wand, and the
entire cell came apart, brick-by-brick. His feet left the prison cell ground
and flew away. . . not giving Grindelwald's dead body another look.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Quinn walked into the previously securest cell of Numengard prison
castle and started at the blown-off ceiling.
He sighed at the destruction.
Voldemort was strong, he thought. Grindelwald had created the prison,
believing it to be perfect, but Voldemort was able to stroll in and exit
without retaliation.
"Well, the prison did injure him in some way."
He waved his hand, and all the debris rose.— he couldn't vanish it as
every single piece was imbibed with magic— so he could only put it
away to the side. When the debris cleared, there laid the crushed body of
Grindelwald.
Quinn stared at the lifeless body, and another sigh exited his body. While
he didn't agree with what Grindelwald stood for, he still held a level of
respect for the man's "level" of accomplishments. Grindelwald had
accomplished so much. . . more than many couldn't achieve in multiple
lifetimes.
"I wonder what happened for you to smile like that," Quinn muttered as
he stared at the smile on Grindelwald's face. "You know. . . I'd loved to
learn about people, how they think and behave from you."
He, of course, got no other response.
Quinn waved his hand, and Grindelwald gently rose from the floor.
When ICW response team would arrive later. . . they'd found a grave
that'd be immediately dug out. But that grave had a tombstone with
words etched into:
[ Für das Größere Wohl ]
Here Rests The Greatest Dark Lord To Ever Reign.
Gellert Grindelwald.
.
Quinn West - MC - Doesn't know that it was Grindelwald not Numengard.
Gellert Grindelwald - Dark Lord - "The disapproval of cowards is praise to
the brave."
Voldemort - Dark Lord - He was warned, but didn't heed.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
348. Chapter 348: Visit To The
Ministry
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
Patreón.
All the chapters would still be posted here, but you can support me with
a donation and get chapters earlier than usual as a bonus.
Link in the Bio/Profile
In the Ministry's main atrium, two guards chattered at the security check
counter.
"You came early. Everything at home alright, Jeffery?" said Pierce, a
ministry guard, sitting behind the security counter with a puzzle book in
his hand as he leaned on the back of his chair, making it stand on its two
hind legs with forelegs dangling in the air.
"Everything's alright," said Jeffery, rubbing his forehead, "couldn't sleep
last night, and then it was already morning. . ."
"Because of the baby?"
"Yeah," Jeffery sighed, "he kept crying for the entire night. Just when I
thought he slept and I could also sleep, he would walk up and raise up a
storm."
"Your house isn't the only place where someone raised a storm."
"What do you mean."
Pierce picked up a newspaper from the counter and slid it through the
hole in the glass panel separating them. Jeffery picked up the newspaper
— the front headline was literally plastered all over the page, and
reading it made Jeffery's sleepiness fly away as if he had been injected
with a potion that he took during his NEWT days to stay awake for
various nights.
"Numengard fell?!"
"Shhh!" Pierce leaned forward. "Not so loud!"
"What loud? It's on the front page!"
"I know that; I'm not stupid. But I got ordered that we're not to talk about
this during work. So keep it down, and we can talk."
Jeffery leaned forward on the counter and spoke in a low voice, "What
about Grindelwald? Did he escape? Was it someone who worked with
him in war? What if—."
"No, the Dark Lord Grindelwald is dead. According to that, someone dug
him a grave and buried him in it. They dug the body out to confirm it."
"They dug a dead man's body out?!"
Pierce shrugged, "The only way to be sure if a Dark Lord is dead or not."
"Is there something about Dumbledore written in there? He must be
happy that his nemesis is finally dead after so much time. It must feel
good that now he only has to worry about one Dark Lord returning."
"They couldn't get him for a comment. But I guess you're right," Pierce
chuckled.
"I thought I needed a coffee. I don't think I need one anymore."
"Go get some. No one wants you drooling all over the counter. I'll wait."
"Thank you."
But as Jeffery was about to turn away to get some coffee, a voice called
out to them. "Good morning, gentlemen. I would like to check in if any of
you'd like to help me do that."
Jeffery and Pierce turned to see a young man dressed in a maroon suit
over a black shirt.
"Name and reason for the visit?" asked Pierce.
"Quinn West. I am here to visit the Department of Magical Accidents and
Catastrophes," said Quinn.
Pierce noted it down before asking, "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, and I don't need it."
Pierce turned and procured a badge from the machine and handed it to
Quinn through the hole in the glass before asking, "Your wand?"
"I don't use one," said Quinn.
"Squib?" Pierce raised a brow.
Quinn placed his palm flat on the glass panel, and a layer of crackling ice
began spreading on both sides of the glass. He smiled and answered,
"Would that have made a difference?"
Pierce seemed miffed but shook his head. "Would you be willing to
submit to a search to see if you're hiding a wand?"
Quinn nodded and calmly went through the search, resulting in Pierce
not finding a wand, or to be precise, he ended up finding nothing but a
few coins. Quinn's person was free of any personal belongings other than
some money.
". . . You're clear."
Quinn thanked both the guards and walked past them.
"Just money and no wand," said Jeffery. "That bloke was weird."
"Not just money— most of it was galleon, and you saw how he was
dressed— he must be a brat from a rich family," said Pierce picking up
his puzzle book again. "People like them don't have a worry about
problems that we suffer. If he needed something, he would buy a new
one. Rich people have it easy."
Jeffery looked at Quinn's back before a yawn came over him. "I need a
coffee."
On the other hand, Quinn walked to his destination with a sigh. "I
should've taken grandfather on his offer." There was a special(VIP)
entrance to the Ministry without any security checks for affluent people.
George and the others in the family all used that entrance— all except
Quinn because he didn't usually come to the Ministry, and today he
wanted to keep his presence invisible.
After taking an elevator ride, Quinn reached his destination. He walked
out of the elevator and walked straight to the greeting desk to greet an
elderly lady sitting behind the desk.
"Good morning, lovely lady," he said, "I'd like to meet Stephen Spreck."
"Do you have an appointment," the elderly receptionist asked.
"No, but I'm sure he'd like to meet to meet me if you tell him that Quinn
West is here to visit."
The elderly lady quirked her brow and looked up at Quinn for the first
time. She narrowed her eyes at him in a half-threatening way.
". . . Sit. I'll inform him," said the elderly lady.
Quinn smiled charmingly and rapped his fingers on the high-quality desk.
He took in the space around him with people coming in and out. Quinn
enhanced his ears to listen to conversations and watched every person
that walked by— the way they walked, what they talked about, what
they wore, among other things that he could perceive. He eavesdropped
on their emotions and surface thoughts.
He smiled and nodded to everyone who matched eyes with him.
"Follow me," said the receptionist.
Quinn turned to the elderly receptionist and nodded with a smile. He
followed her through a few corridors until they reached a small section
with only a few offices and another smaller receptionist desk at the end
with a young and pretty receptionist lady.
"Karoline, if you could lead him to Mr. Spreck," said the old receptionist.
Karoline, as she had been identified, put down her nail file and looked up
for her eyes to widen as she took a look at Quinn.
Quinn smiled charmingly and extended his hand for a handshake. "Good
morning, Karoline. My name is Quinn West. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Karoline immediately grabbed Quinn's hand for a shake, and her other
went to twirl her blonde locks as she stared into Quinn's eyes, finding
herself not being able to look away.
The old receptionist cleared her throat, ending Karoline and Quinn's
handshake.
"Lead him in," she said before walking away.
Karoline led him through the door beside her desk to the office of her
boss Stephen Spreck who stood up from his desk and came walking with
a pudgy belly to greet Quinn with an oily smile.
"Mr. West, what an honor of someone from your family to come to visit
me," said Spreck.
Quinn smiled and shook hands with Spreck, who used both his hand.
"Karoline, if you'd get us some refreshments," said Spreck.
Karoline gave Quinn one last very flirtatious look before leaving.
"Departement Head Spreck," said Quinn after he and Spreck sat down, "I
have always been interested in the work of the Invisibility Task Force
here at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. The
muggle and the wizarding world need to remain apart from each other,
and the task force is an essential part of it— keeping all the magical
creatures and incidents hidden from sight must be a hard job."
"It's hard, but it's our job, so we can't complain," said Spreck, twirling his
miniature mustache.
"I see, so it's hard as I expected. . . so that's why during the last two Death
Eater Azkaban transports, there were two breaches of the protocol where
major magical incidents came into the muggle view," said Quinn with his
eyes smiling.
". . . Pardon?"
"I understand that keeping invisibility across the entire state is a tough
job, and having a mishap or two during one's tenure is understandable,
but having two of them— of such magnitude that Aurors on reserve duty
had to be called in to cover all bases— so close to each other. . . what can
I say, it raises some question."
"What are you trying to say?" Spreck's face turned red.
"I am trying to say nothing, Mr. Spreck, but people have been asking
questions about the happenings— you must know how important the
Law of Secrecy is— and if accidents like these keep happening, who
knows when we might find ourselves revealed to the muggles."
"And who might these people be?" asked Spreck, looking like a red
balloon about to burst.
"Well, my grandfather is one of them."
That made Spreck deflate to a normal fat human being.
"Mr. Spreck, I did some fact-finding about you before I came here and
was surprised to find that out of the entire Ministry, the Invisibility Task
Force is the one department with the least diversity in its ranks. You not
only have the least number of first-gen magicals— ah, pardon my habit—
that's muggleborn for you. . . but you also are rutting in the bottom when
it comes to halfbloods. . . all you have our purebloods."
Spreck seemed to realize that Quinn had been insulting him. He stood up
with his belly jiggling, bursting in anger, and shouted at Quinn. "So what!
This is my department; I'll do anything I like! Who are you to tell me how
to—"
Quinn tapped his armrest with his finger, and Spreck found himself being
pushed down by a strong force into his chair.
"Sit down, Mr. Spreck, and put on a smile."
"W-What?!"
"Smile," said Quinn with a smile.
The office door opened, and Karoline walked in with a plate of
refreshments.
"Thank you, Karoline," said Quinn with a smile, ignoring her blatant
attempt to touch his hand as she handed him his glass of juice. He gave
Spreck a look, and the man seemed to understand as he cooperated by
acting normal.
After Karoline left, Quinn continued, "Resign, Mr. Spreck."
"What?"
"Resign— as in relinquishing your position as the Head of The Invisibility
Task Force. Your time here has come to an end, and consider this as a
generous warning and a chance to exit with dignity."
"What is that supposed to mean? I'm not going to resign!"
"Then be prepared because we're going to drag your name through the
mud until your superior is forced to fire you," said Quinn.
"Huh? Wh—"
"You don't want everyone to hear about your misteress, do you?"
Spreck sputtered as if his tongue was repeatedly being pulled. By the
time he could put his words together, Quinn spoke again.
"Karoline is a gorgeous woman; you're a man in power; just think about
what it'd look like. Moreover, we have very good people who can make it
look like you forced her into this. . . and if we can assure that, I'm sure
dear Karoline would be happy to play the part."
"I-I—"
"Yes, you, Mr. Spreck. We are giving you a chance. If you walk away
peacefully and hand over your seat to a candidate of our choice, we can
assure you that you'll face no retaliation. . . and Mr. Spreck, when I say
resignation, I actually mean retirement. . . I don't want you to be
involved in any bureaucracy or politics— I want you to leave the
Ministry, go live in that summer house of yours away from your Death
Eater friends, who I know were behind the two incidents you let get out
of hand.
And believe, under this administration, you don't want to be labeled as
an accomplice to the Death Eater and the Dark Lord. Lady Minister and
Scrimgeour will eat a small fry like you for breakfast and ship what
remains to Azkaban."
Spreck couldn't speak. He could only stare at Quinn with his mouth open.
The man had sweated so much that the color of his shirt was soaking.
Quinn drained his glass of his juice and stood up.
"You have three days to decide, Mr. Spreck. I'll return in three days to get
your response. If you say yes, you announce the retirement by the end of
the week, and then the clock will start on two weeks under which you'll
leave the Ministry for good. If you say no, we will start our campaign
against you, and don't bother trying to fight it because we have
everything ready for deployment at any given moment."
Quinn walked to the office door, and before he opened it, he turned and
said, "Think about your family, Mr. Spreck. If you go peacefully, they
won't be disgraced, and you'll still have plenty of means to earn a
handsome living, but if you fight. . . you know how ugly things can get."
He smiled, "It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Spreck. I'll see you soon. Let's
go for lunch at that time."
Quinn opened the door and left, leaving behind a man with as much
sweat on his clothes and thoughts of turmoil in his mind.
.
Quinn West - MC - I am optimistic that this one will break.
Stephen Spreck - Head of The Invisibility Task Force - Has a summer
house that'll be seeing some use.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Can you guess where I took the names from
today. Except for Karoline, that was random.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the BIO!
349. Chapter 349: Weeding Out
If you want to read ahead of the posting schedule then head over to my
Patreón.
All the chapters would still be posted here, but you can support me with
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Link in the Bio/Profile
"Did you hear?"
"No, what?"
"Spreck from the Invisibility Task Force announced his retirement
yesterday."
"So?"
"That itself wouldn't have been surprising, but he appointed a half-blood
as his replacement."
"What?! That Spreck appointed a half-blood?"
"I reacted the same way when I heard it first, but it's the truth."
Quinn smiled as he listened to the conversation between two Ministry
employees sitting beside him in the Ministry cafeteria during lunchtime.
Yesterday, Quinn had visited Stephen Spreck after a three-day period as
he had promised, and Spreck had all but begged Quinn not to ruin his
reputation and that he'd immediately retire. Quinn had generously kept
his part of the deal and had called off the disgrace campaign along with
giving Spreck a candidate of his(his grandfather's) choice to be his
successor.
Quinn cleaned up his fruit bowl and finished up his glass of water. He
burnt the tiny receipt into ashes and let it fall and flow down to the
ground.
"We have a dustbin here, and more importantly, the Ministry's not the
place to burn things carelessly— it can be a massive fire hazard, Mr.
West."
Quinn paused. He could see that the crowd in the cafeteria had stopped
talking to each other and were now whispering among each other as they
looked at him. . . or they were looking behind him. He turned back, and
his eyebrows raised by a half to find himself standing face-to-face with
Amelia Bones with an entourage of Aurors behind her.
"Madam Minister, what an unexpected surprise."
"Is it a surprise, Mr. West?" asked Amelia. "You have been visiting my
Ministry every day for the past few days; it wouldn't be strange to run
into me, the Minister."
'I should've just come through the VIP section,' thought Quinn as he said,
"What can I do for you, Minister Bones?"
"Should we talk over some food, Mr. West," asked Amelia, but before
Quinn could tell her that he had already eaten, she started to walk with
the Aurors following behind her.
Quinn shrugged and followed after them. They led him to a door beside
the cafeteria, which opened up to a much larger area. The decor was
dignified, higher quality, more polished, and much quieter. Unlike the
main area, which was a communal setting, this one, which he could tell
was a VIP section, was designed to have a private sitting arrangement
with every party sitting a respectable distance from each other. They
reached another door, and the couple of Aurors that had come inside
stopped there with Amelia and Quinn walking inside an even emptier
and private room where Amelia sat down on an empty leather chair
while Quinn took the chair opposite her, brought in by a waiter.
"This is a fancy space," said Quinn. "Do you always have your meals
here?"
"Only when I do not have it in my office," Amelia said, receiving a cup of
tea from the waiter.
Quinn refused all and any food from the waiter before saying, "You didn't
answer my question. Why this invitation?"
"I wonder why your sudden interest in the Ministry, Mr. West. As far as I
know, you have been in Whitehall a handful of times before this week,
but now, you've been here every day. It makes me wonder."
Quinn shrugged, "I wasn't expecting that some so busy as you were
keeping tabs on the little me, Minister."
"Keeping tabs on various things is what keeps me busy, Mr. West."
"Sounds awfully drab."
"Things are rarely glorious in reality."
"I think that's deep."
Amelia placed her cup down and spoke, "You've visited various
departments in the past few days— the Invisibilty Task Force, Beast
Division, International Magical Office of Law, Ministry of Magic Public
Information Services. . . may I ask why you have been visiting all of these
departments."
"Their work interests me. They have such fascinating duties and domains,
making me wonder how exactly the inner workings mesh with each other
— I simply wish to sate my curiosity."
". . . Mr. West, you do realize that all departments in the Ministry handle
official work—."
"You don't have to worry about me disturbing their work. I wouldn't hold
it against them if I was turned away because I was disturbing their busy
work and would respectfully oblige to their request. Fortunately, all of
my visits have bore fruit, and I have gotten to learn a lot about all the
departments."
". . . Are you looking to join one of these departments?'
"No. As I said, just sating my curiosity."
Quinn kept smiling in the face of Amelia's questioning.
"How's your grandfather. I haven't met him since our meeting about our. .
. incident."
"It's okay. You can say it as it is. The abduction attempt by the Death
Eaters."
"Yes."
"My grandfather's not in the country at the moment. He has been busy
cleaning up the mess the Dark Lord made in Germany, so he hasn't had
the time to visit the Ministry. But please don't worry; he has assured me
that he has been keeping tabs on the situation."
". . . That's good to hear," but she didn't sound like it.
"It's good that the Death Eaters reached Azkaban. Things would've
become complicated if another batch of Death Eater prisoners were freed
before they reached Azkaban."
"It would've indeed made things complicated," she sighed, "but the
situation is already complicated even without it. . . . You must've heard
about it. . ."
"The Invisible Vigilante, correct?"
Amelia nodded. "The Invisible Vigilante and the Death Eaters who came
to free the prisoners."
"It is good that there were no casualties on the Auror side."
"But there were deaths on the Death Eaters. A total of three Death Eaters
dead," Amelia sighed.
Quinn held his expression. Three Death Eaters had died during the
Azkaban transport because of his wind tornado sucking the people in and
throwing them out— it turned out that they had not been able to keep
hold of their wands. The news had spread like wildfire through the
country, splitting the people into two parts— those who defended the
Invisible Vigilante and those who condemned him. The result had been
DMLE changing its stance against the Invisible Vigilante, turning the
internal passive stance to an aggressive curse on sight.
Quinn didn't know how this would affect him. Since then, he hadn't been
out as the Invisible Vigilante on the English soil.
As for how he felt having the lives of another three people on his hands?
He felt disconnected from the entire situation.
"Better Death Eaters than Aurors," he said.
"Are you in support of the Invisible Vigilante's action?" asked Amelia,
touching up her monocle.
"I firmly believe that the law that protects the people shouldn't be
broken. Breaking laws that help maintain peace and harmony is a
punishable offense," said Quinn with an earnest expression.
"I'm glad to hear that," said Amelia.
Quinn changed the topic, "Minister, you look tired. Is there something
weighing on your mind?"
"The situation around Numengard has brought in an entire bag of
problems," she sighed.
"But the prison isn't on our soil, and Grindelwald wasn't a citizen of our
country. He was under the charge of ICW for the past five decades— why
is this any of our problems," said Quinn with furrowed brows. He was
genuinely curious about it.
"It's because of Dumbledore. He was the one who caught Grindelwald, so
the ICW decided to rope us into it because DMLE was actively involved
during those times."
"Dumbledore agreed? That's surprising," said Quinn.
"Surprising; why?"
"It's been half a century since the war, that's a long time, and
Dumbledore's pretty involved with the current Dark Lord, so it surprises
me that he would go along with ICW. Have you met with him?"
Amelia shook her head, "Not yet. And then, I had to authorize some of
our Aurors to the ICW taskforce, which is going to find the two parties
responsible for the Numengard's destruction."
"Two parties?"
"Two parties. The prison was scoured by experts, and they were able to
conclude that there were two different parties there. The way the magic
was used was too distinct— the two groups that were involved were
trained to use magic differently from each other, and that was clear from
the evidence left."
'Two groups?' thought Quinn, but then realized that the level of damage
to a sturdy magically-enforced place Numengard was too much for
people to think that it was only two people and not two groups.
"Hmm, curious," said Quinn. He filed it in his mind to check what sort of
experts Amelia was talking about and if he needed to prepare himself for
things that might point back to him, but he wasn't much worried about it
— he had done enough due diligence to keep himself from connections.
"You're very curious, Mr. West."
"It's the only way to learn. You have to have the curiosity if you want to
experience all sorts of new things."
"I also have something I'm curious about."
"Oh, what is it."
"Stephen Sperk resigned today."
"I heard that, yes," said Quinn, keeping himself relaxed.
"Didn't you meet him yesterday and three days before."
"I did. Mr. Spreck was the first one I visited. He was so sweet."
"Did he say something about his sudden retirement? I am surprised why
he would make a decision so suddenly. I had worked with him a lot
during my days in DMLE."
"When I visited him first, he didn't look like he wanted to retire to me."
"Is that so, a pity. I guess I'll need to have a talk with Stephen."
"It'd be best to ask the person himself," said Quinn before patting his
knees. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Minister. I'll take my leave. I still have
some work to do."
"Please, don't let me hold you back," said Amelia and saw Quinn get up,
button the front button of his coat, and exit the VVIP room to enter the
room. From where she was sitting, she saw Quinn walk up to another
man, who looked surprised to see Quinn. While she couldn't hear what
they talked about, she saw the man hurriedly get up and walk away with
Quinn.
She glanced at the Auror standing at the door and silently beckoned her.
"Did you find something?" asked Amelia.
"Yes, as you asked, I looked into the people Quinn West met in the past
few days, and it was as you expected. They have been on the list of
people we suspect connected to the Death Eaters."
"Do we suspect them to be marked?"
"No, ma'am. None of the people he met are suspected Death Eater, just
associates of Death Eater."
". . . Stephen resigned today."
"Ma'am."
"In the coming month, a lot of department heads are going to resign, and
others will replace them. Then there will be those who stick on and raise
a commotion," Amelia sighed and massaged her shoulder. "Another
bloody mess that we will need to keep an eye on."
"Your orders, ma'am."
". . . Get me everything we have on the people Quinn West has met and
will be meeting. Do the same with those who are replacing the
Departement Heads; I need to know everything we have on them."
Amelia sighed, "Wests have begun digging their fingers in the Ministry.'
.
Quinn West - MC - Meeting people about to retire, left and right.
Amelia Bones - Minister - The busiest she had been since taking her chair.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - What should I write tomorrow?
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
350. Chapter 350: Sneaking On
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Ivy boarded the red Hogwarts express with an excited expression.
Today was the first day out since she had been out of her house. She had
spent the entire summer vacation trapped inside her house with no access
to the outside. But today was the first of September, and there wasn't an
active Hogwarts student that wasn't at the Kings Crossing Station.
"There are a lot of people," said Hermione, looking around the platform.
"I wasn't expecting these many people to come."
Ivy looked around, and while Hermione said there were a lot of people,
there wasn't that much of a difference from the previous years. However,
after last year's break-in, neither of them was expecting the turnout to be
the same. The last time they had seen, the parents were pulling their
children away with declarations of never letting them return. But here
they were, seeing those very people standing on the platforms.
"They must be pressured by the attacks," muttered Ivy.
"The attack outside your house might've been what made all consider
Hogwarts safer than their own homes," Hermione narrowed her eyes
towards her best friend.
"Don't give me that look. We have already gone through this, and I do not
want to talk about it," said Ivy dismissively.
"All you have done is avoid answering my questions."
"I will answer all your questions if you stop being so judgemental."
"How can I not be doubtful if you don't answer my questions."
"Let's not do this. Or this will end up going forever."
Hermione sighed. She fixed her Headgirl badge before boarding the train
behind Ivy. They made their way to a compartment where Hermione
unloaded her luggage and went away to the Prefect compartment,
leaving Ivy alone in the compartment. Harry and Ron had gone to meet
their friends after such a long time, leaving their shrunk luggage with
Ivy.
Soon, the train jerked into motion and began moving. Ivy crossed her
legs and turned her gaze outside as the scenery gradually left the urban
behind, welcoming the vast expanse of the natural landscape. Her eyes
remained glued on the scene. . . for the past two months, her only
window to the outside had been the two-way mirror that she shared with
Quinn, who carried it with him while outside, visiting places. She still
remembered the view from the mirror when Quinn had floated it above
the buildings to get an overhead shot, which then had turned into a tour
through the narrow streets and even close-ups of many people engaged in
their daily activities who couldn't see the presumably invisible mirror
floating near them.
But even despite that, nothing beat watching with her own eyes, knowing
that it was just a glass pane away. As she was blankly watching out,
something entered her vision, piquing her attention.
She squinted to focus, "Is that a bird?"
It was indeed a bird. As the small dot flew close, the shape of broad
wings became clear. With each flap, the black bird would come closer to
the train until it was flying just beside it, moving in the same direction.
"A crow," Ivy muttered. It was the biggest of its kind she had seen. She
was also surprised the bird was able to keep up the train that chugged
forward at full speed, making her guess that it was a magical species of
the crow family. "I don't remember studying about this particular one,"
Ivy tried to recall the identity but failed. "Maybe Hermione will know."
The crow flapped its wing in rapid succession and left Ivy's window
behind, speeding ahead. Just when Ivy was about to return her focus
from the bird, the crow did a surprising and unexpected happen— the
bird pivoted back and faced the opposite. Ivy's confusion soon turned into
surprise as first, the crow flew towards her suddenly, the glass pane too
vanished as it never suggested. Ivy raised her hands to protect herself,
but the next second, she felt the fluttering winds stop.
She peaked out from behind her eyes to see the black crow staring at her
from the opposite seat. She hurriedly glanced at the glass pane, but it was
intact and present. Ivy looked back at the crow— she gulped— the bird
was larger than when she had seen it before. And as the bird was nearby,
she could finally see that crow's black feathers had a purple shine that'd
only turn visible at specific angles when the light would splash on them.
"How did you get in?" she asked, tilting her head, slightly scared because
of the size.
The crow's response was something she didn't expect. The crow twisted
and turned, and suddenly, Quinn was sitting in front of her.
"That was exciting, not going to lie," said Quinn, fixing his cuffs
underneath his suit. He waved his hand, and the compartment door
locked up.
"Quinn!" Ivy stood up and hugged him. He hugged her back and pulled
her into a snog session that both sides craved. "How did you? You're an
animagus?!"
"I have been a couple for a few years, a long but interesting story."
"You didn't tell me. I want to be an animagus as well."
"It didn't come up naturally. As for becoming an animagus, it's quite the
lengthy to become an animagus— but if you want to, we can work on it. .
. ah, we should've done it during the summer break. . . ah, but then you
wouldn't have been able to complete it while locked inside. But
whatever, we can think of something while you're in Hogwarts."
"My dad's an animagus. Sirius as well."
"Oh?" Quinn, of course, knew that. "That's neat. What form does he take?"
"Stag. You're a crow."
"Technically, a raven. But yeah."
"What do you think I'll become?"
"It's mostly the same as Patronus, so there are chances that you'll be a
blue jay."
"Ah. . . blue jay is small."
"Believe me, smaller size for a bird form is better. You might not be able
to fly in stronger winds, but in an ideal environment, smaller birds are
great. I have been in many great flights in my animagus forms."
Ivy felt envious of the prospect of a new experience.
"Why are you here?" she asked. "I thought we agreed to meet outside of
Hogwarts after I reach the castle."
"I missed you, so I came. The plans we had decided earlier are still on."
"Does Daphne know you're here?"
"Nope, I came only for you."
"Aww, how sweet." Ivy was still straddled upon Quinn and gave him a
reward. "Hermione would blow up if she walked in upon us."
"She's still not happy?"
"No, she is not. But her pestering has gone down at least."
Quinn sighed, "I'm not popular with best friends. Both Tracey and
Hermione aren't thrilled about our relationship."
"It bothers you that much?"
"Yes, it does," said Quinn, surprising Ivy. "They're the only two who know
about our relationship, and both of them aren't supportive— it makes me
wonder if anyone else would be."
Ivy didn't have an answer to it. She, too, wasn't worried about the same.
"Let's forget about it," Quinn smiled, "while it does bother me, it's not to a
level where I'll lose any sleep."
"Mnmm," Ivy nodded.
"I heard there are professors and even Aurors onboard today," said Quinn.
"They really want this to go well."
"I heard"— heard from an Order of Phoenix— "that Dumbledore wants
Hogwarts to be seen as a safe place, and the Hogwarts Express getting
safely to Hogsmeade is important for that. If any Death Eaters came,
which they're expecting them to come, the professors and Aurors are
going to retaliate in defense."
"I hope everything's peaceful."
"Are you going to help if they come?"
Quinn shook his head. "I'll defend as long as I can stay anonymous. If I
reveal myself, my grandfather is going to get angry, and I don't want to
anger him right now. He's prickly these days," said Quinn, pausing before
continuing. "Please don't go out and try to actively fight them. I support
self-defense, but don't pick a fight with them— leave that to the Aurors."
"Yes, yes," Ivy sighed, "I have heard that so many times in the last couple
of days— mum's been harping on and on about it. If they're so worried
about it, why can't they just let us come directly through Hogsmeade."
"It's a show of confidence. Hogwarts and even the Ministry can't have
people thinking that they're scared of the Death Eaters by stopping a
long-time tradition. It's risky because of the young children involved, but
I see where they're coming from."
Ivy hummed, "They want to keep up the traditions, but they moved
Ollivander out of the shop."
That caught Quinn's attention as he asked, "I am curious, what's going on
with the wand situation?"
"The first years don't have their wands yet. Mum said that Ollivander and
his shop are going to be present at Hogwarts, and the first years are going
to get their wands in the school itself."
". . . I see this becoming the norm."
"I think so too. Someone in the Ministry will think that it's safer for the
children to have their wands when they enter Hogwarts, and then
somehow it'll become part of the sorting ceremony."
"You know. . . that actually sounds cool, but I wouldn't want it to happen.
Parents need to get used to their kids having a wand— and the time
before Hogwarts where kids can't do much with them is the perfect time
for that purpose."
"Tell that to Hermione's parents," Ivy giggled. "They told me that
Hermione almost broke everything in her room."
"What about you? I'm sure you weren't any less."
"Please," Ivy rolled her eyes, "I had mum with me— she would allow me
my wand one hour in the morning and one in the evening." She narrowed
her eyes, "You got to do magic without care, didn't you, you spoiled brat."
"Spoiled brat?" Quinn quirked his brow playfully. "I was anything but
spoiled. I will have you know I did my chores and completed my tasks
before I could do use magic," he said proudly, puffing up his chest.
"Aren't you a good boy," said Ivy, her voice a bit husky.
"I am," Quinn nodded deeply.
"Then let me give you a reward," she said and leaned forward.
But before they could get into another snogging session, a loud explosion
disturbed them. Both of them looked outside the window, and they saw
black trails flying through the sky— looking closely, they saw people
inside, flying on brooms.
"They came," he sighed.
"They did," Ivy got up from Quinn. "What are you going to do?"
Quinn stood up and stared out of the window. He saw a flying Death
Eater shoot a spell towards the train, but it was deflected by a shield
spell, thus crashing into the ground, exploding the mud and grass that
did hit the train.
". . . I'm going to go to the roof in case a spell slips past the Aurors and
professors. I'm sure the train has its own enchantments, but prevention is
better than cure."
Quinn turned away from the window and pulled Ivy into another kiss
before saying, "I'll see you in a couple of days. We will go out then."
"Be safe," she said.
"I will. Have your wand at ready— in the immortal words of Mad-Eye
Moody—"
"Constant Vigilance," Ivy sighed again. She had heard that phrase so
much during the summer that her ears bled.
Quinn laughed.
He snapped his fingers and turned invisible. Next, the window again
vanished from its frame before it returned again, and Ivy could tell that
Quinn wasn't in the room.
At that moment, the door rattled. Ivy unlocked it and let in Hermione,
Harry, and Ron inside.
"Did you see it?" asked Harry.
"I did."
"What should we do?"
Ivy took out her wand. "We stay ready and wait. If they come inside, we
teach them a lesson."
.
Quinn West - MC - I hitch-hicked to get a ride with my girlfriend.
Ivy Potter - Potter Twin - Likes exciting situations.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Corporate sucks!
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351. Chapter 351: Interrogation
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Quinn pulled himself atop the Hogwarts Express. The black roof was
windy, fluttering Quinn's clothes and hair back and making his balance
difficult. He snapped his fingers, and the winds neutralized their assault
on him.
The Death Eaters that flew above the train, like annoying mosquitos
buzzing. Spells came down from the sky at the train, but shield spells
would shoot up and intercept the attacks.
Quinn watched as a rope shot up on the side of the next coach, and an
Auror climbed up on the roof just as himself. Quinn stilled himself and
focused more on his invisibility— he didn't want to get found out like he
did during the Azkaban transport— unlike that time, he wasn't masked.
Similarly, several Aurors climbed up on the roofs, and the exchange
immediately became more heated as the Aurors began to attack while
protecting the train.
Quinn stayed put on his spot. He wasn't going to make a move if the train
wasn't in explicit danger. . . and from the looks of it, the Aurors were
doing a good job protecting the train.
'Should I shoot some of them down?' he still wondered, looking between
the Death Eaters and the Aurors. After a thought, he decided not to do
anything, but just as he was about to close down the query, his eyes
caught an unmasked Death Eater flying among the masked ones.
An unmasked Death Eaters. . . those among the Dark Lord's rank, who
didn't mind their identities revealed while doing their Death Eater duties
— they were those been broken out of Azkaban, who knew that showing
their faces would make no difference, thus hiding them provided no
value.
"Bartemius Crouch Junior," Quinn muttered as his eyes followed the one
guilty of patricide. 'I can't let this chance get away, can I?'
Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch Junior was an inner circle Death Eater, a fanatic
one at that. It was no secret that he worshipped the dirt that Voldemort
had walked on and thus wasn't scared to follow every word uttered by his
master— and he did have a reputation for being crazy in the head with a
passion for destruction and chaos.
Quinn glanced at the Aurors before raising his hand with his palm
following the flying Barty Crouch. Quinn waited for him to lower his
altitude, and the moment Quinn thought that the range was close enough
for absolute hit accuracy, he let the spell fly. It whistled through the wind
and struck Barty in the back.
Barty's broom immediately dipped, and the rider leaned to the slide and
slipped off. For a second, Quinn watched the man free fall through the
floor; he thought if he should just let the man fall— the height of the fall
wasn't enough for absolute death, there was an equal chance of life and
death— and for a moment, he was fine with taking the chance and let
luck decide Barty's fate. . . . But the, at the very last moment, Quinn
apparated from the roof and appeared right under Barty's free fall.
He raised his magic up and cut off the body's momentum. He caught
Barty and immediately apparated off from the scene.
. . .
Quinn appeared in a forest and dumped the unconscious body on the
ground before sighing.
He knew that Aurors would question among themselves who shot the
Death Eater down, and when they would conclude that it was none
among them, they'd go to the professors, who would again refuse, and
then it'd go to students. If, by chance, Barty had died, Aurors would need
to launch a mandatory investigation involving everyone second year
onwards, and he didn't want that to happen— adults questioning young
children, who would obviously be anxious about the questioning— and
that didn't sit well with Quinn.
He didn't want the young children to go through such experiences. Even
if none of them would be charged, he didn't want them to take the stress
that would naturally pop up even if they knew they were safe. Moreover,
who knew how Voldemort would respond. Maybe the mad man would
use it as an opportunity to attack every first-generation magical's family
for revenge, so Quinn whisked Barty away to ensure that no student
would be involved.
"Now, what should I do with him?"
He stared down at Barty Crouch with narrowed eyes. First, he stripped
Barty naked; even the underwear wasn't spared, but because he didn't
want to have a wiener in his vision, he conjured underwear over Barty.
Next, he cast a space-locking ward around them to disable apparition and
portkeys. While he had taken away all the clothes and belongings, there
was no telling if Barty had something inside his body that could be used
as a portkey.
Then there was a stretch of stillness. Barty lay unconscious as Quinn
stared down at him. . . . Quinn took out a triangular black patch from his
pocket. He tapped it, and the black Noir mask came out with a pair of
leather gloves. He put the mask and gloves on, leaving the rest of the
outfit inside the Noir patch. His hair changed colors, and even their style
altered.
"Wake up."
Quinn removed the spell he had cast and then dumped ice-cold water on
him. Barty sucked in a cold breath along with the ice water and turned to
his side, coughing his lungs out.
"H-uh? W-What?" Barty muttered under confusion.
"Bartemius Crouch Junior," said Quinn, gaining Barty's attention.
"You!" Barty recognized Quinn's Invisible Vigilante immediately.
"You have failed the magical community, Death Eaters," said Quinn, his
voice distorted. You have killed, maimed, harmed countless innocent
lives, and have done so without a single shred of regret inside you— it is
time for you to be judged."
"You filthy—"
Quinn swiped his hand in the air, and Barty was struck with an invisible
slap.
"HOW DARE—"
Quinn swiped his hand again, and another tight slap attacked Barty's
face.
"sToP—"
Another slap knocked Barty down as he tried to get up.
Barty stared at Quinn with vigilant eyes. He opened his mouth but then
promptly closed it when he saw Quinn raise his hand.
"You will speak when I allow you to speak," said Quinn.
Barty reached around seemingly for his wand. His eyes widened as he
realized that his wand wasn't near him. He looked down and saw that he
was only wearing underwear that wasn't his.
"I will have you answer some of my questions," said Quinn, deciding to
exploit the chance that he had unexpectedly created. "How is the Dark
Lord doing? I heard that he is not feeling these days."
Barty's eyes widened, "How did you?!"
"When it comes to filth like you, I know things. Answer my question."
Barty spat in response. "You can go to hell, you blood traitor. . . no, I'm
sure you're a foul mudblood."
Quinn calmly raised his hand, and a spark of lightning zapped Barty,
sending him into screaming pain. "Don't answer my questions— be ready
for some punishment."
"Fuck you! AAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"How is the Dark Lord's health," Quinn asked again.
Barty refused to answer and was again struck with magic that sent him
rolling in pain. Barty continued refusing to answer, and Quinn continued
to dole out punishment in painful proportions.
Barty laid on the ground, panting, writhing in pain. His body twitched
and spasmed with tremors. Seeing that, Quinn spoke, "It looks we need to
raise the stakes. Continue to not answer my questions— and I'll take your
magic away."
That made Barty twitch from something other than the pain. He looked
up at Quinn, wariness and fear in his eyes. His eyes studied Quinn—
studied the Invisible Vigilante, who was known to have taken magic
away from various Death Eaters.
"I see you have made your decision," Quinn spoke when Barty kept his
silence. "Then you know what you have to pay."
A dark haze suddenly puffed out Quinn's hand, startling Barty. The Death
Eaters pushed himself back on the ground, away from Quinn. However, it
was futile as Quinn raised his hand, and a copious amount of hazy smoke
flew out of his palm and pooled onto the earthy ground. The magic
moved like it had a mind on its own, chasing Barty, and when it reached
his body, it rose and covered him up. Sticking to him.
"Stop!" yelled Barty
Quinn clenched his fist. The haze grew darker with soot puffing up
around Barty, covering him in an almost opaque smoke. When the
screams began, Quinn ignored them and continued to operate his magic,
guiding the magic to the intended areas on Barty's body.
Quinn waved his hand and blew Tentani Nervum's haze away. He stared
at the pathetic-looking Barty and offered, "Answer my questions, and I'll
return you your magic."
". . . F-Fuck Y-Y-Youuuu. . ."
Quinn sighed. He wondered why he wasted so much time going through
his method. He wanted to see if he could pry one of the Dark Lord's
fanatic followers' mouths open. "I do not want to go inside that disgusting
mind of yours, but you leave me no other option. . . we will do this the
hard way,"
Emperyean ropes shot out from the ground. They wrapped around Barty
and pulled him firmly to the ground, keeping him still even with him
thrashing around.
Quinn kneeled down beside Barty and placed his palm over his forehead.
"This will hurt, do try to endure."
Barty's eyes turned to the back of his head, leaving only the whites.
Again, a scream pierced the forest as Quinn's Legilimency tore through
Barty's mind, scouring through the Death Eater's memories. Experienced
them one by one— numerous meetings, small operations that had gone
under the details, shady dealings, and the various others related to Death
Eaters.
"Ah, please excuse me for a moment," said Quinn. He got up and turned
away from Barty while casting an opaque black ward that blocked out
Barty from witnessing anything outside.
He took out the vibrating two-way mirror from his pocket and was about
to answer it when he looked around his entirely forest surroundings. He
waved his hand, and the scene around him shimmered into a scene of his
room with a slight change— the wall behind him was a nondescript wall
in case he needed to change locations.
"Hey," he said, answering the call.
"Are you alright?" Ivy peered through the mirror, looking at Quinn and
his surrounding. "Where are you?"
"In my room. It's going through a repaint," said Quinn, thinking he'd need
to repaint his room now. "I hope the Death Eaters didn't return," he said,
gambling on the fact that their leader(Barty) disappearing must've made
them leave.
"No, they left. It was very sudden."
"One of the Death Eaters got shot down and disappeared; I think that
scared them off," said Quinn, knowing that said Death Eater was behind
him.
"Oh, I didn't know that," she said. "You should've come in."
"I thought of doing so but thought that after the attack, your friends
would come looking for you— and thought it'd better to leave."
"They haven't come yet—" Ivy turned when there was a knock on Ivy's
door. "They're here. I will talk to you later. Love you."
"Love you too," said Quinn, waving her goodbye before putting the
mirror away. He put on his mask and turned back, and the black dome
crumbled away with Barty still on the ground, writhing.
"Sorry about the wait; let's continue."
.
Quinn West - MC - Wanted to see if he could interrogate(extract
information) without Legilimency.
Bartemius Crouch Junior - Death Eater - Pain and whiteness.
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352. Chapter 352: He Strikes
Again?
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A single candlestick glowed in the darkroom.
The door creaked open, and Peter Pettigrew stepped inside, closing the
door behind him. He stared at the sole figure illuminated by the candle
and internally sighed. Since when had he become the messenger? In
charge of relaying the news to the Dark Lord, risking his well-being every
time Voldemort was in a bad mood or had terrible news.
Pettigrew didn't break the silence and stood beside the door, waiting.
After a couple of minutes, Voldemort spoke, "Speak, Wormtail."
"Barty is missing, My Lord," said Pettigrew bluntly. "He was shot down
during the Hogwarts Express attack. According to his team, he fell off his
broom and disappeared before they knew it. The same goes for the
Aurors; there hasn't been any information about Barty's arrest."
There was no response from Voldemort, and Pettigrew, too, stayed silent
until Voldemort finally spoke,
"Who shot Barty down?"
"It is not known, My Lord. Barty's team said that the spell came from the
roof. The roof was only occupied by Aurors. . . so we think that one of
the Aurors shot Barty down. . . but—"
"— but then where did Barty go?" completed Voldemort.
"Yes. None of the Aurors left the train. The question of Barty's
disappearance still remains. If you could use the Dark Mark to contact
him. . . ."
The Dark Mark. An honor bestowed upon the Death Eaters by Voldemort,
signifying their value in the eyes of the Dark Lord. The mark had various
use, and one of them was that Voldemort could issue a summons to his
marked Death Eaters. It was up to them if they wanted to answer those
summons, but only a few dared to refuse the Dark Lord's summons.
"Hmm. . . . Give me your arm, Wormtail."
Pettigrew walked to the Voldemort's chair, and being this close, he could
finally see the Dark Lord's visage. Voldemort was wrapped in bandages
from head to toe, with a pungent smell wafting from the medicinal pastes
applied underneath the wrappings. When Pettigrew presented his marked
arm, Voldemort raised his trembling arm slowly.
Pettigrew kept his face and body still under his control. He knew that the
ruthless Dark Lord was having a moment of calmness, a rarity since he
had returned from Numengard in the Austrian Alps. Whatever happened
there had left Voldemort severely injured, so injured that even now, after
several days, the injuries had persisted.
Voldemort touched the Dark Mark, which was lighter from its usual
darkness. Pettigrew clenched his jaw as a burning pain shot up his arm.
The mark's color bubbled and darkened, the blacks turning blacker and
the red tuning bloodier. . . until the mark returned to normal.
". . . Bartemius is trapped or dead," said Voldemort.
'Or he defected,' thought Pettigrew, but his thoughts remained unsaid.
While he understood Barty's personality and devotion, he didn't believe
in absolute trust— he believed that even someone as messed up as
Bellatrix would turn if someday the Dark Lord turned to the light side. . .
a hypothetical that he could never see happening.
". . . Bartemius is still in the country," Voldemort said, his voice flat.
Pettigrew quirked his brow. 'So it was true that he could track the
marked Death Eaters down. . . or at least could tell the general position,'
he thought. The last time he had suspected of this was when the Dark
Lord had hunted down Igor Karkaroff. . . and they had been able to find
the traitorous man surprisingly easily.
"Can you tell if he's dead?" asked Wormtail.
"It takes time for the body to decompose and break down. The mark will
remain true for some time after death. . . that is if Bartemius is dead. . . .
What do you think happened to him?"
"I don't know enough to form a conjecture," said Pettigrew.
"Take a guess, Wormtail."
Pettigrew thought for a bit. "I believe that the Aurors, or at least a group
of Aurors, are operating independently. . . or covertly under orders. My
guess is that they abducted Barty so they could interrogate him to get
information about us. He cannot use his mark to escape, nor can he use
the extra portkey issued to him— Aurors have him trapped."
"But they could do the same if they simply arrested him."
"They could, but if it's not on the official records, they could use
Legilimency to force the information out of his mind without having to
face the very severe laws prohibiting the use of the mind arts in
interrogations."
"Ah, those laws, the fact that those particular ones exist slipped from my
mind," said Voldemort.
"It could be that, but would Rufus Scrimgeour permit this?" asked
Pettigrew. "He seems to be a stickler for rules; would he break the law?"
"You misunderstand him, Wormtail," said Voldemort. "Rufus Scrimgeour
is what you call a lion. He isn't like Amelia Bones, who would die before
getting caught breaking the law. And he would is anything but Cornelius
Fudge. . . People like Scrimgeour will go to lengths to accomplish what
he wants to achieve— I would not put it past him to resort to such
methods."
Pettigrew made a mental note of that. He was sure that he was going to
have to deal with Rufus Scrimgeour in some time. It was better to have a
hand on the pulse of the important people.
"Then what is your command on this, My Lord," asked Pettigrew.
". . . I will tell you the part of the country Bartenius is in. Search for him.
If he is alive, I want to see him tell me what happened. If he is dead, get
me his corpse. He needs to be rewarded for his service and devotion."
Pettigrew bowed.
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Quinn stood up from the ground. He removed his gloves as he stared
down at Barty Crouch's body.
"You know, I do not like using Legilimency this way," said Quinn,
narrowing his eyes at spasming caused as a side-effect of brute-force
Legilimency. "I prefer the gentler, more elegant approach, the one that
doesn't leave a trace— it is one the things my master insists is a sign of a
true master Legilimens— to leave as if you never came." Quinn's face
twitched in disgust, "But, what have you done. . . every decision you have
made has affected innocents, spilled so much blood, destroyed lives,
families. . . . I could not stop myself from being forceful."
Despite being under his father's Imperius for more than a decade, Barty
Crouch had done so many vile deeds before his incarceration that even
those among the Death Eaters would find their stomachs turn. Barty had
gotten back on track with his activities right after his freedom— it was as
if the man had been starved of his appetite for blood, fear, and agony—
and like a hungry maniac, Barty had done everything to abate his
unending cravings.
"I wish to purge my brain from what I have seen. . . but at least I got
some precious information from it," said Quinn. "Some very useful
information. . . the Dark Lord is injured."
Barty's body twitched, different from his spasming.
"If I had to mention your one positive quality, it would be loyalty, but
unfortunately, it is not to the correct party," said Quinn.
Barty's spasms had calmed down. His eyes regained partial focus as he
glared at Quinn. "M-M-y Lor-d-d is goi. . . to kill you!" he spat.
"I would not put it past him, but how would he know that I was the one
who brought you here."
"H-He will kno-ow."
Quinn narrowed his eyes. He had scoured Barty's memory, and he
couldn't recall anything that would implicate him. But then he realized
that it was Barty's fanatic worship talking.
"Then so be it," Quinn shrugged. "But do you think the Dark Lord will
come with his injuries? What do you think? I do not think he will."
"He w-will!"
"If that helps you feel good in your heart," Quinn said but at the same
time thought, 'I need stop now. . . too much of Quinn West is leaking out,'
he looked down on his suit, 'I blame these clothes.'
"You have run your usefulness, Bartemius Crouch Junior," Quinn put on
his leather gloves back. "But unfortunately for you, now I have to end
this." Quinn raised his hand, and a green glow covered his hand. "You are
going to be the second one I am going to send away directly— you are
going to stay in my mind forever. And believe me, I do not like the
thought of that— but I am not going to stop."
"M-My Lord will—"
Quinn unleashed the killing curse on Barty, cutting the guy's thread of
life.
"Hmm, I don't feel guilty. . . I don't know if that's a good thing or not. . .
but I like it."
He stared down at Barty's dead body and sighed, "Let's dig you a grave.
Most deserve one; you do too."
.
o - o -O - o - o
.
Pettigrew stared at the grave in the middle of a forest. It looked freshly
dug, even had a simple headstone with the dead man's name. He looked
around. The place did not look somewhere Aurors would operate— he
thought it would be more of a secure, underground bunker.
"Did you find anything?" he asked.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," said a member of the search party.
". . . It doesn't look like this was Aurors doing."
Pettigrew turned to his left and saw Rivers Lock peering down at the
headstone with indifferent eyes.
"No, it doesn't. Who do you think it was then?"
Rivers shook his head. "I don't know enough to speculate."
"Take a guess," said Pettigrew.
River's eyes studied Barty's grave. Pettigrew could tell that the devious
mind behind those dead eyes was turning in thought.
"Invisible Vigilante," said Rivers. "A ridiculous name."
Pettigrew blinked in surprise, "Why do you say that?"
"This doesn't look like Aurors' work. The Order of Phoenix won't do this,
or at least not like this. The third, but the most probable option is him—
he somehow knows what we are going to do and wholeheartedly opposes
us. He killed three of ours before and must've decided to take out a more
prominent one this time."
"There is no evidence that it was the Invisible Vigilante."
Rivers shrugged, "It is just a guess."
Pettigrew wanted to dispute, but the more the thought stayed in his
mind, the more it started to feel like it fit. There were others who would
have loved to take revenge against Barty, but as far as he knew, there
wasn't anyone who had the capability to do it or the means to know that
Barty was going to be present at the train attack.
"What should tell him," asked Rivers.
Pettigrew shook his head, "We don't offer conjectures to the Lord. He is
resting, maybe when he is feeling well."
Rivers stayed silent, and Peter took that as his ascent. He turned to the
other Death Eaters around him and ordered,
"Let's dig the body up if there is one remaining."
After all. . . the Invisible Vigilante wasn't famous for being kind and
peaceful with those he came across.
.
Quinn West - MC - His clothes help him separate his two personas.
Barty Crouch Junior - Death Eater - His headstone only had his name
written on it.
Peter Pettigrew - Death Eater - The messenger.
Rivers Lock - Death Eater - Just speculating.
Voldemort - Dark Lord - Injured by another Dark Lord.
.
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353. Chapter 353: The Paper Slip
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"We need to find a new place to meet," Sirius sighed as he closed the door
to the lounge behind him. "You guys can't convene here every time the
Death Eaters do," he said to the Order of Phoenix members sitting on his
well-curated furniture. "What would you all have done if I had a lady at
home with me?"
"We would've asked her to leave," said Hestia Jones, "well, you would
have."
"Uh-huh, if you think that, it would've been awkward for you when I
would've shut the door in your face," Sirius took a seat, dressed in his
nightclothes with a glass filled with a golden liquid. "I'm not cracking a
joke. If I have a lady with me, I'm going to turn you all away," but then
he winked at Hestia, "but if you want to keep me company, you're always
welcome at 12 Grimmauld Place, Hestia."
Hestia snorted, not gracing Sirius with a response.
"Enough mindless chatter," Moody's gruff voice with a knock of his
walking stick. He turned to his left and said, "Get on with it, Albus. We
don't have all the time of the day."
All eyes turned to Dumbledore, who was sitting at the 'head' of the group.
The man was dressed, as always, in his eccentrically bright-colored
clothes. In the group of regular clothers, he stuck out like a peacock in a
sea of peahens.
"I'm sure all of you are aware of why we have gathered here," said
Dumbledore, his voice disjointed from the reason behind the meeting.
"Today, the Death Eaters targeted the Hogwarts Express and the students.
. . as we expected they would." There was a wave of nods and murmur
among the group, "Fortunately, both us and the Aurors Office expected
them to do so and planned safeguards against them."
The Hogwarts Express always had a professor or two onboard during the
trips, but today, the train harbored five professors, all expecting Death
Eaters to attack.
"I disliked the idea to run the Hogwarts Express this year, but neither the
Ministry nor the Board of Governors wanted the centuries-long practice
to break," sighed Dumbledore. "I hope they'd be more receptive to my
suggestions after today. However, the reason I called all of you is not
because of the attack itself, but the unforeseen thing that happened
during the attack. . . Bartemius Crouch Junior unexpectedly disappeared
after being hit by a spell."
"Who cares what happened to father-killer?" spat Elphias Doge(coin).
"I care, Elphias. I care," said Dumbledore. He gave a look to Elphias,
which had a smile, but his eyes were nothing but somber. "Bartemius'
disappearance is an anomaly in a situation that is easy to understand. I'm
trying to understand how did he disappear, where did he go to, and who
or what made him disappear."
He swept his eyes to his group as if expecting them to offer something,
but none spoke.
"Then let us start with the Aurors Office," Dumbledore turned to James
and Kingsley. "Was the Aurors Office behind the disappearance?"
"No," said James, exchanging a glance with Kingsley, "as far as the DMLE
is considered, we haven't participated in the disappearance."
Kingsley chimed in, "I have confirmed with the Hit Wizards. They, too,
weren't involved. I can say that this wasn't orchestrated by the Ministry
—"
Moody cut Kingsley off, "Don't come to that conclusion yet, Shacklebolt.
You might have done so, but that doesn't mean the Departement of
Mysteries wasn't involved. Those sneaky bastards behind their locked
doors might have taken Crouch's kid to. . . study the Dark Mark for one."
Everyone's eyes widened, and some sort of realization dawned on them.
The Departement of Mysteries, a section of the Ministry of Magic that
carried out confidential research. Most of its operations were carried out
in total secrecy. Few wizards within the Ministry actually knew what was
located within this department. Various mysteries of the world were
studied there. Wizards who worked in the Department of Mysteries were
known as Unspeakables because of the confidential nature of their work.
Due to the highly classified nature of this department, it was granted a
great deal of independence, being the only one within the entire Ministry
that did not need to answer to the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement. Even the Minister for Magic had very little authority over
the department's operations, as the fifteenth Minister's attempt to shut
down the branch was ignored by the Unspeakables.
"Did they take Death Eaters during the war?" came as a question from
Nymphadora Tonks.
Moody grunted, his artificial eye rolling in its socket. "Maybe they did,
maybe they didn't. Some of the Death Eaters had gone missing during
Barty Crouch. . . Senior's hunt— most assumed that they ran away, but
who knows. . . they might just have been abducted by the Unspeakables
for experimentation. Last time, little Barty had his daddy, so they
couldn't pick him up, but this time he was alone and ripe for picking. . . .
What do you say, Albus?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "There's no use in discussing what they did
during the war. We have no way to prove it. . . . By saying that, I'm not
subtracting the possibility of the Department of Mysteries being involved
today. If they did. . . we might not see Bartemius for a very long time, if
anytime. I do not think the Unspeakables were involved; it's not like them
to act so publicly— secrecy is their bread-and-butter."
But the question of who took Barty Crouch away still remained. It
remained in everyone's mind.
"How did he get taken away?" asked Tonks.
"Apparition, I reckon," said Lily. "The train is loud enough to hide the
sound."
No one raised any opposition to that conjecture.
"No one saw anything," James turned to Lily. "Did the students say
something unusual on the train? Because whoever took Barty away was
either on the train or following it."
Lily shook her head, "None of them reported anything unusual. It can be
assumed the perpetrator wasn't on the train."
Tonks, who listened to everything, kicked her feet forward and stretched
back. "Death Eaters, an unknown suspect, and an open mystery— I say it
is the Invisible Vigilante."
"Possible, but just a speculation," said James, and the group parked the
choice and moved on.
"Someone who had his loved ones killed by Crouch?"
"Too broad, but it's an angle we are working on," said Sirius, his glass
clinking with ice. "The case is assigned to the newest batch of rookies;
they'll be looking into the missing Crouch."
"Robards didn't assign it a higher priority?" asked Dumbledore, peering
from the top of his glasses.
Sirius shook his head. "He doesn't want to waste precious resources
looking for a missing Death Eater. It is busywork for our rookies to learn
things. And no, he won't change the status even I ask him to— I also
don't want the priority status to change."
Dumbledore shook his head.
"What if it was the Death Eaters themselves!" Tonks said as if she had a
revelation. She yelped the next moment as Moody hit her with a stinging
spell.
"Think before you speak, lass!" he rebuked.
"I was thinking!"
"Think better then."
The conversation derailed then. The group began bouncing off ideas and
theories about Barty's disappearance. Conspiracies were born. Imaginary
plots were weaved. But in the end, the group wasn't able to come to a
conclusion about Barty's disappearance.
. . .
"Albus."
Dumbledore turned back and saw Moody standing behind him. Everyone
was talking in the lounge while he had stepped away to have some quiet
thinking time while admiring the old Black-heritage paintings that Sirius
had still kept.
"How are you feeling, Albus?"
"Where did that come from suddenly?" Dumbledore asked with a
confused smile. "What would be wrong with me?"
"I'm talking about Grindelwald," said Moody bluntly. The man was never
one to mince his words.
". . . So?"
"Avoid it or not, Albus, but that man— Dark Lord or not— was a big part
of your life. You're clearly not feeling well."
"And why do you say that?"
"You ended up joining the ICW investigation without a single word of
objection. They approached, and you gave them what they wanted,
knowing well that the investigation is more of a publicity stint rather
than an actual attempt to find the truth. They don't want to find out how
a Dark Lord who has been locked away for half a century died."
"Thank you, Alastor, but I'm fine. As for the ICW investigation. Even if it's
only half an investigation, I want to be a part of it. Grindelwald's death
was sudden and without a hint of prior warning from any sources of any
Ministerial agency across the globe. So if there's someone searching for
an answer, I would like to be kept in the loop."
Moody wanted to say something, but he was stopped by Dumbledore.
"End of discussion, Alastor."
But as Dumbledore was about to step away, Moody put his walking cane
in Dumbledore's way. Dumbledore looked at the cane and then at Moody,
"I have some work to do, Alaster. Now is not the time."
"I hope you know that we need to focus on the current Dark Lord.
Chasing an old one isn't on the top of the list right now."
"I know that better than anyone."
Moody pulled his cane back, "I hope you do," he grunted before stalking
away.
Dumbledore watched Moody for a bit before he shook his head. He
turned away and eyed Sirius, who was bothering Hestia Jones.
Dumbledore called out to him.
"How may I help you, Dumbledore," asked Sirius.
"I have something I'd like to show you," Dumbledore took out a half-slip
of parchment and handed it to Sirius.
"What is this?" Sirius asked just before his eyes began reading the words.
[
To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know
that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux
and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that
when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
]
"This R.A.B. is he. . ."
"Regulus Arcturus Black," Sirius uttered. "My brother. . . he often signed
his name like that."
Dumbledore's eyes flashed. He was right. It was Regulus Black who had
written the letter.
"Where did you find this?" asked Sirius.
"Regulus had replaced something Voldemort had valued," Dumbledore
couldn't bring himself to change the letter, but he wasn't going to be the
one who gave out essential information. "He deceived Voldemort and
replaced it with a fake. I think that something must be here, where he
lived. . . . I was wondering if you had his belongings."
It was a reach that Sirius would keep his brother's belongings after such a
long time period, but he had to try, just in case he did.
"I-I have some of his stuff. It is all in his r-room," said Sirius, his eyes
glued to the paper.
Dumbledore didn't say anything. He let Sirius process things. Finding that
the Death Eater brother, who was the image of everything Sirius stood
for, had betrayed Voldemort.
"I know this is hard, Sirius. But do know that your brother was a brave
who saw the truth of the situation and did his best to remedy the
situation. Be proud of him," said Dumbledore.
He could wait for a few days longer to search Regulus' belongings. Maybe
then he would be able to get his hands on another one of Voldemort's
Horcruxes.
.
Sirius Black - Proud Owner of a Bachelor Pad - Feels like his life
foundation has been shaken.
Albus Dumbledore - Order of the Phoenix - Making his way, piece-by-
piece.
Alastor Moody - Madeye - Perceptive as hell.
.
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or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
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354. Chapter 354: Recruitment
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Quinn sat in his favorite cafe with a book in his hand. He neither drank
coffee nor tea, but he did like eating cakes, and while Polly and Ms.
Rosey made perfectly delicious cakes, this cafe baked delicacies so
addicting that Quinn had suspected them of adding drugs as an
ingredient. He had gone as far as to check there was anything suspicious
— but other than some great quality ingredients, he had failed to find
any other strange things.
The fork cut a piece of his lemon yogurt cake and floated itself to Quinn's
mouth as he continued to read his book. He let out a teenie bit of food
moan as the lemony goodness exploded in his mouth.
"This is so good!" He turned to the shop counter and threw a hearty
thumbs-up to the employee behind the counter, who thumbs-upped back
with a smile.
He returned to his book with forkfuls of cake gently placed into his
mouth. But then suddenly, a man came and sat in front of him, at his
table.
Quinn didn't look up from his book as he said, "There's an empty table
there; if you don't mind can you vacate my table. That'd be much
appreciated." Another forkful of cake landed on his tongue.
"I actually meant to sit with you, Mr. Quinn West," said the man. "I've
heard a lot about you and wondered if we could have a little chat."
Quinn finally looked up at the uninvited man and chanced upon the
clean shaved man dressed in a brown suit with a darker tie and a Panama
hat, looking at him with sparkling eyes that stood out as the only
defining feature of the man.
"And who might you be?" he asked.
"Apologies for that. How rude of me to not introduce myself. My name is
Croaker. I'm pleased to meet you."
"Croaker. . . and?" asked Quinn, but he already had an inkling. . . now he
already, for a fact, knew who this man was.
"Just Croaker for now."
"Well then, Mr. 'Just-Croaker-for-now,' if you want to have a chat with
me, please schedule a meeting with me through my secretary."
"You don't have a secretary. . . do you?"
"No, I don't have one."
"Then there's no way for me to schedule a meeting."
"Exactly. Finally, you get it; I thought you were simply slow on the
uptake. While I would like to return by saying that it was a pleasure to
meet you, it would be a lie if I said so. Now, if you'll please leave me
alone to my cake."
Quinn returned to his book, but Croaker didn't move from his chair;
instead, the man called for the waitress and ordered himself the same
thing that Quinn was having.
"Good choice," said Quinn, "but what're you doing? If you want to enjoy
your cake, do so at another table."
"If you'd just listen to me, I'm sure you'd be interested in what I have to
say."
"Not interested."
"Would you lose anything if you listen?"
"Yes. My incredibly precious time."
"I have a job offer for you, Mr. Quinn West."
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm not interested in entering the working
society yet."
"Have you heard of the Departement of Mysteries?"
Quinn clicked his tongue and put down his book on the table. "You had
to say it, didn't you, Saul Croaker."
"Oh, you know me?" asked Croaker, briefly surprised.
"Of course, I do know you, Professor Saul Croaker. You're a premier
researcher in the study of time. Have a law named after you," Quinn said
to Croaker, who kept smiling. "Professor Saul Croaker's law. It states that
five hours was the longest someone could travel back in time without the
possibility of serious harm to the traveler or time itself.
I have varying thoughts on the matter, but your research was a
fascinating read."
"Why, thank you. But what about your varying thoughts. Where do you
disagree with my theory?" asked Croaker.
"There's no mathematical logic behind my thinking, but I believe that a
person doesn't need five hours to send time and the future events into
disarray. One rash decision made under rash emotion or an action taken
in the heat of the moment," he snapped his fingers, "that is all it takes to
plunge everything into chaos."
"Ah yes, the human factor," Croaker nodded. "I used a base assumption
for my research. Actually, I'm currently trying to study how the spectrum
of human behavior and actions affects the stream of time."
"Interesting."
"It is, isn't," smiled Croaker. "Are you interested in the research of time,
Quinn?"
"Can't say I'm not."
"Then would you like to join the Department of Mysteries?"
"No, thank you."
". . . Quinn, you realized what this offer represents. A very few people
ever get a look from our department, much less an offer to join."
Croaker reached into his coat and took out a black leather folder/binder.
Quinn's eyes lingered on Croaker's coat, which shouldn't be able to hold a
large folder. It made Quinn think that Croaker(or even most
Unspeakables) had pockets similar to him. Then his eyes went to the
black leather folder— it was something he recognized fairly well.
"A Hogwarts record folder," said Quinn. Room of Rewards, the entryway
to the Sin vault, held records of every student that ever studied at
Hogwarts— everything from report cards, achievements, professor's
recommendations, behavioral accounts, among other various things.
Quinn had seen his own black folder, and he was pleased to read what
was written there.
"I have to ask who gave you this?" Quinn pointed at the folder. "Who's
the one inside Hogwarts who has the in with the Departments of Myster.
. ."— he paused mid-sentence— ". . . it is Professor McGonagall. She's the
one who recommends students and provides you with black leather
folders."
Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Except for
the magical privileges that Hogwarts bestowed upon the Headmaster, she
was in control and had access to pretty much everything in Hogwarts.
She would be the most likely person to provide the information to the
Unspeakables. Moreover, it was McGonagall who provided Hermione
with the Time-Turner, something strictly controlled by the Department of
Mysteries— that one incident was all Quinn needed to form his
conjecture.
"Man, who knew McGonagall would be the," he made air quotes,
"recruiter inside Hogwarts— who knew the upright Scottish witch would
be the one."
Quinn watched Croaker, who sat with no change in expressions, which
confirmed that he had been correct. Everything from Croaker's face to his
body language was perfect— too perfect— which itself became a fault.
"I don't blame her. For a clock to function properly, all the cogs must be
placed in their appropriate places."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Croaker denied Quinn's
conjecture at once."We don't usually recruit straight out of Hogwarts.
Children who come out of school are still too immature and
inexperienced to be part of our operation but," he opened the black
folder, "you-you. . . I have never seen this from someone just out of
Hogwarts. When I first saw it, I thought it was a joke, but after
confirming twice and vetting it thrice, I couldn't see it as a joke. Prefect. .
. Headboy. . . Organized a multi-school Quidditch League. . . Hosted the
Tri-wizard Tournament. . . Perfect grades. . . and there's Aid In Distress—
or AID— the last one was is a shining star on your record. You have done
so much in seven years, Quinn. And the thing that binds everything
together— your aptitude for magic."
Croaker stared at Quinn and continued after a pause, "After seeing all of
this, I, on behalf of the Department of Mysteries, extend an offer to you
to join us as an. . . Unspeakable."
Quinn breathed out, leaning into his chair. Unspeakable. He knew what
power that designation held. It was a department with autonomy within
the Ministry— so much so that even a Ministry of Magic couldn't shut
down. It was the place where mysteries of magic were studied, with the
envelope being pushed forward.
With all that, Quinn responded, "I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to
refuse."
". . . Quinn, we're a very exclusive organization and wouldn't extend this
offer again. If you chose to refuse this offer now, it'd be gone like sand in
the wind. . . it won't return. Do know what you're missing is something
you'd regret missing. We are at the bleeding edge of magic. We have
direct sight to the truth.
So, I'll extend this offer for the second and last time. Join the Department
of Mysteries."
There was a silence between them. Both sat in the outside area of a cafe
with people walking by them, unknowing about the conversation that
was happening just a few paces away. That an Unspeakable and a
member of the wealthiest family in the country were sharing a table
beside them.
"I still refuse," said Quinn.
Croaker sighed as he closed the folder and put it back. "May I know why
did you refuse?"
"I won't lie by saying that if I had accepted your offer, I would've gotten
access to resources which would be tedious for me to procure. . . a
culture of research and innovation. . . but all of that would've come with
its restriction— I would've lost the freedom that I have right now." Quinn
stopped Croaker from interjecting, "Whatever you say, it is still a
ministerial department with a budget— and I'm sure the Department of
Mysteries have their own deliverables that they need to meet to maintain
that budget because I'm sure the bureaucrats and politicians would've
chewed down the flow of money with how your department operates.
I don't want to spend the next decade as a grunt who is stuck with
handling those mandatory tasks. I want to learn whatever I want— travel
whenever and wherever I want— pursue whatever interest I want to
overtake— and if I join you, it will take me a long-long time, maybe
never even, to reach that level."
". . . And you're saying that you'll be better of on your own."
A smile stretched on Quinn's face that could only be described as self-
confident. "I'm a West, Mr. Croaker. I have no shortage of funds." He
pointed at the black folder, "What you have in that file is not all of me.
It's just one side of me. Yes, I spent seven years in Hogwarts, but that
doesn't mean that Hogwarts was all I did in that time. I'm going to travel
and meet people at the very top of their fields— learn from them and
improve."
Quinn's expression turned to a half-smiling- half-serious. "I'm going to
recreate the golden age of magic in this era— my era." He then smirked,
"And about this being the last offer, I don't think so. You'll approach me
again. Even if you don't, I'm sure your department and I will be
collaborating on some projects."
"That's some arrogant thinking. The golden age? That's some big talk."
"It's only arrogance if I'm wrong. As for the big talk? I only aim for the
best."
Quinn stood up. He had finished his cake, and the discussion had also
come to an end. "Mr. Croaker, please have anything you want. I have a
tab here; ask them to put everything on there."
"That's nice of you."
Quinn smiled and was about to leave when a thought struck him and
spoke to Croaker. "If you're looking for new blood. I'd suggest that you
target Ivy Potter. . . I'm sure you know who she is. Ask Professor
McGonagall for her file, I'm sure she'd be a valuable asset to your
organization."
"Thank you, but you don't need to consider yourself with."
"I'm just pointing you to a good recommendation. You don't want to have
another Augustus Rockwood situation."
Croaker's eyes turned sharp as he looked at Quinn, who chuckled, "Oh,
that hit a nerve. I'm sorry."
Quinn didn't wait for a response and walked away with Croaker watching
him from his chair.
.
Quinn West - MC - I shall not be part of the secret organization.
Saul Croaker - Unspeakable - Has studied time magic.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - I have been wanting to write something like
this for a long time. Maybe, Croaker will return later.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the Bio!
355. Chapter 355: Online Meeting
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There was a knock on the door.
Ivy turned her eyes away from the mouse she was practicing
transfiguration. She pulled out Marauder's Map and checked who was
outside. The map confirmed that the people outside were the people she
was expecting.
She raised her wand to the door, and the lock clicked open.
"Come in."
The door swung open, and three people dressed in green trims entered
the empty room. One girl and two boys— Daphne Greengrass with Blaise
Zabini and Theodore Nott in tow.
Ivy's eyes narrowed a fraction at the large rectangle of cloth floating
above Daphne's hands. It was apparently known as Recon, a magical map
with the functions of the Marauder's Map— but better. . . or as Quinn
had said. She didn't know something like this existed until it showed up
in Daphne's hands. She found out from both(Quinn and Daphne) that
Quinn had created the map early in his Hogwarts years to sneak around.
It made sense why Quinn had never been caught outside despite it being
an open secret that he broke curfew religiously.
"Daphne, Zabini, Nott," Ivy greeted the three Slytherins. "Let's get started
right away," she looked at her wristwatch, "he's going to connect anytime
now."
"What are you doing?" Daphne walked to Ivy's table.
"Trying out Transfiguration from William's compendium."
"Which one was that?"
"The one Professor McGonagall suggested as extra-extra reading."
"How is it? Anything new?"
"New, no. I'm reading this because Quinn had referenced some concepts
from here in the one he gave us. I'm just exploring those references— the
language is terrible. . . just as Quinn said it would be. What are you
reading these days?"
"I'm alternating between Herbology and Arithmancy. . . . Yes, I know
they're far from each other, but that helps me to put a break when I need
one."
"I heard Luna's already on the second volumes," said Ivy.
Daphne pursed her lips, "She has an unfair advantage of being with
Quinn before us. Moreover, Quinn taught her personally for such a long
time. It's not surprising that she's ahead of us."
Ivy nodded before turning to the two boys who were looking at them.
"Any idea why he wants to talk with you today?" she asked.
Zabini said, "We don't know. He sent a letter asking to talk to us; other
than that, he didn't say much." Not nodded the same. Zabini looked
around the room before asking, "How will this happen? Is he going to
come here?"
Ivy stood up and walked to the wall where something large stood covered
in a blue curtain. She grabbed the fabric and pulled on it to reveal a
body-sized mirror.
"This is how he's going to talk to you." As Ivy said that, the sound of
chimes rang in the room. "Right on time," she said and retrieved a big
hand mirror.
Daphne's eyes followed the mirror as Ivy went and tapped it against the
frame of the larger. The mirror shone with a short burst of light, followed
by the reflection disappearing away, and what took its place was the
image of Quinn sitting on a chair.
"Good evening, everyone," Quinn smiled. "I hope everyone here's doing
well and had a great day till now." His eyes turned to where the boys
stood and greeted them, "Zabini, Nott, I hope both of you didn't have any
prior commitments that you had to miss to meet with me today."
The Slytherin boys shook their heads.
"Good. Now, that was enough pleasantries. I'm sure both of you're busy,
and we can always come back to them afterward if we have time. I will
come straight to the reason why I asked to meet you like this. . . . I'm
curious as to why didn't you contact me, and seeing that both of you're in
Hogwarts makes me further curious about what happened."
Zabini and Nott exchanged looks and then glanced at Ivy and Daphne.
"It's okay; they can stay and listen. I trust them, so can you."
"It was all because of Malfoy," Nott took the lead.
"Malfoy. . . Draco?"
"Both father and son. It seems that Draco was given a task that he failed. .
. and the punishment for it was given to his father," said Nott. "My father,
who was eager to induct me into the ranks of the marked Death Eaters,
suddenly changed his mind. It seemed that dear father didn't want a
mistake from me to affect him, so he canceled his plans to make me a
Death Eater," Nott snorted, "he even went as far as to dress it up as
conceding to mum's request— what a farce!"
Quinn looked intrigued. "Is that so. What happened to Lucius Malfoy?
What sort of punishment did the Dark Lord bestow upon him."
"Father said that he lost an arm and his wand."
"An arm and a wand," said Quinn with surprise— but unlike Ivy, Daphne,
and even Zabini— Quinn seemed less shocked by the revelation. "The
Dark Lord must be furious to take away Lucius' wand."
"I overheard him talking about avoiding meeting with the Dark Lord for
some time. . . it was the worst— he stayed home longer."
Quinn hummed. He turned to Zabini and asked, "What about you,
Zabini? How were you able to stay at Hogwarts. What's the reason
behind why your mother didn't whisk you away from the country."
Zabini sighed heavily. He didn't look like he wanted to talk about it and
even glanced at the others in the room, slight unwillingness in his voice.
He sighed again, "She has found herself. . . a fiance." Eyebrows in the
room and in the mirror were raised. "She has moved out of the country
for the moment— she wanted to take me with her, but the school isn't as
good, and well, she had a talk with Dumbledore," everyone could see him
turn into a tomato, "and he assured that I'll be safe as long as I'm in the
castle. I still can't believe that I'm still here."
"Everyone thinks the same, Zabini, everyone," said Quinn sighing. "Which
one would this be?"
"Eight, ninth, I don't know."
"Let's hope this one hangs on to his life force."
Zabini snorted as if hearing a joke. The track record of the past husbands
didn't help Lady Zabini's case— it made people how could she continue
to trap more and more people even after such a public record of things
not turning out in favor of her partner.
"Did Dumbledore come to your house, or did your mother approach
him?" asked Quinn.
"I'm not aware of what happened there. Just that one day, my mother
decided that she wanted me to continue going to Hogwarts. I, of course,
didn't object one bit. . . rest is history that I'm not interested in. Does it
matter if it was Dumbledore or mother who started the conversation?"
"It was just a personal curiosity," said Quinn with a smile. "I'm not going
to lie by saying that I'm not disappointed that we weren't able to form a
partnership, Zabini, Nott, but I'm happy that you're able to attend
Hogwarts for you last year— it wouldn't have been a pleasant experience
having uprooted for your school of six years with just one more going.
But. . . if you ever need my help, please feel free to contact me. As you
know, I'm always ready to provide to aid those in need of it."
The conversation that Quinn had called Zabini and Nott for had ended.
After he had caught up with them, both exited, leaving only Ivy and
Daphne in the room.
"They gave us strange looks," said Ivy, looking at the door.
"That is to be expected," Daphne took a seat. "It'd seem odd to anyone
why you have a way to contact Quinn like this when I'm his girlfriend,"
she gave a pointing look to Quinn.
"It's okay. Zabini and Nott are tight-lipped guys. They won't say
anything," Quinn seemed carefree. "If they do give you some trouble, go
visit Astoria— they both owe AID a favor or two. . . . So, how're you two
doing? How's the feeling of being a seventh year?"
"Same as before." "Everything's about NEWTs." "The first years are tiny."
""
"Figured," Quinn smiled. "So. . . I have another question. Who's the new
Defense Against The Dark Arts professor? I'm assuming that Professor
Slughorn is still teaching potions."
"He is," said Daphne. "As for the new professor. . . it's one of the Weasley
brothers— William Weasley."
"Bill Weasley," added Ivy.
"The one who works in Gringotts?" Quinn quirked his brow and asked
Ivy. "How did the goblins let him off work to attend Hogwarts. Did he
leave his job?"
"He said he's still working with Gringotts and is with Hogwarts for the
year. As for how is it possible, I questioned that myself but haven't asked
him yet. Maybe Ron will know."
"I doubt it," Daphne said with a snort.
Ivy turned a sharp eye to Daphne. "He's not stupid, you know. He's just a
little slow to understand his understanding. He makes it up with his other
qualities."
"Those are?"
"Alright, let's stop before this derails into a fight," said Quinn, stopping
the discussion. "I was in that school for seven years, and now both of
you're in your seventh— and in all those years, all of us have seen
different teachers every year. It makes me wonder if there's really a curse
on the position and if William Weasley, the cursebreaker from Gringotts,
is there to purge said curse.
Or. . . he's there to be another person for Hogwarts security," Quinn
tapped the armrest of his chair. "If we're to assume that it was the
Headmaster who contacted Mrs. Zabini, then it isn't a stretch to again
assume that he's taking steps to fortify the security."
"It could be any of those," said Daphne.
"I think it's the latter," Ivy gave her opinion.
Quinn quirked his brow, "You think, or. . ." Ivy fixed him with a glare
that made him end the sentence before it could. ". . . okay, I'll not ask."
Both Quinn and Ivy had made an agreement that Quinn wasn't to ask
questions involving Order of the Phoenix. The agreement was placed to
ensure no awkward conversation would ensue between them.
"I, too, think that it's the latter," said Quinn. "I think Dumbledore is trying
to rebuild Hogwarts' image of being safe, which has been damaged in the
previous year— Harry's almost abduction, Crouch impersonating Alastor
Moody, Umbridge, the Death Eaters. . . there have been one too many
incidents. . . . huh, I've been part of the first three. . . . I punched Harry's
abductor's face in, he ended up in jail— I stunned Crouch, and then
kicked him a couple time, he ended up in jail— I filmed Umbridge,
capturing her misdeed, she ended up in jail. . . . I had nothing to do with
the Death Eaters thought."
"Sending people to jail must be your thing," Ivy smirked.
"That's not my thing," said Quinn. "My thing is magic, resourcefulness,
intelligent and playful charm."
"Of course, it is," said Daphne.
". . . I feel you're making fun of me."
"Rubbish," Daphne smiled before asking, "How's your grandfather doing?"
"The load has begun to decrease. The rebuilding in Germany has finally
entered a stage where he doesn't feel warranted to be overlooking every
single aspect of the operation."
"I don't think he ever needed to do that. I'm sure he has people to handle
something like this."
"He has, but it turns out that Germany was his personal project when he
was coming up, and I guess he feels sentimental enough to get involved.
I'm going to try to keep him at home."
". . . So you're going to jail him in his own house," said Ivy.
Quinn and Daphne looked at Ivy and said in unison,
"That wasn't funny."
.
Quinn West - MC - I have sent a lot more people to jail. . . indirectly.
Also, I was involved in all four incidents. FOMO not getting me, bro!
Ivy Potter - Holder of the two-way mirror - Has sat in OotP meetings.
Daphne Greengrass - Holder of Recon - Has a pulse on what's happening
through her father.
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction
or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the
DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the Bio!
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