Harry Potter : Bloodraven

Three hours had passed, and though the action continued, its intensity had lessened. The movements were no longer as fast or flashy as they had been at the beginning.

The massive mountain, once towering over a kilometer high, was now almost unrecognizable. It wasn't just the mountain—the surrounding rocky desert, especially on the side where the battle had raged, was now scarred beyond recognition. Deep craters and long gashes carved into the earth marked the sheer intensity of the fight.

It wouldn't be hard for Maverick to end the duel. The illusion charm was his most useful spell now. It might not fool the old man as easily as an average wizard, but it didn't have to. 

All he needed was to catch the old man off guard—a single moment to land a fatal blow before the old wizard noticed anything.

But Maverick wasn't in a hurry. The duel would end when he decided it was time.

Morvain's every move was deliberate, his actions sharp and precise, every spell executed with perfection—a result of years of practical experience.

Maverick, on the other hand, was simply observing, learning, and studying every trick as the fight progressed, using it to refine his own way of dueling.

Although it wasn't easy—far from it—he found the battle extremely difficult. There were even a few close calls with those green death beams, but he pressed on, countering the old man's every spell and movement.

If anyone asked what he needed most right now, the answer was simple: experience. And Morvain had plenty of it.

...

Boom!

Two curses collided in midair, locking in a fierce struggle of power as searing energy lit up the battlefield.

Crackle!

Crackle!

They surged back and forth, each trying to overpower the other, but neither managed to break through.

"Why are you doing this?" the old man suddenly shouted, his wand outstretched, magic surging from it like water bursting from a broken hose. "What's in this for you? Money? Fame?" His voice screamed with frustration, each question sharper than the last.

The dark figure across from him stayed silent, fully committed to the battle, matching his power without a sound.

"Speak, you insufferable clown..." He exclaimed, anger evident in every word. "I'll give you all the money you need. Centuries of amassed wealth..." He pressed on despite the rising fury in his voice. It was clear the old wizard was feeling desperate, as the figure he had once dismissed as a mere pawn was proving to be anything but.

He kept shouting, the frantic words of a desperate man on the brink of losing everything. "Fame? You've kept me here for hours! That alone should be enough..." His hand pressed forward, straining as if to pour every last drop of his magic.

Woosh!

Unfortunately, that small burst of power did almost nothing, pushing forward for only a brief moment before being forced back.

Crackle!

Crackle!

"Damn you!" he cursed under his breath, then yelled again, "Enough! None of us will walk away from this unscarred..."

Maverick once again tuned out the old man's ranting, though he couldn't deny there was some truth to his words.. As long as the duel continued like this, with neither side revealing their trump cards, there would be no end in sight.

Crackle! Crackle!

Rumble!

The stalemate persisted, destructive bolts of lightning flashing and arcing through the surrounding landscape.

Suddenly, with a decisive twist, the old man leaped to the side, canceling his magic.

Woosh!

Maverick's curse shot forward and blasted into the mountainside.

Boom!

Contrary to Maverick's expectation, the old man chose not to counterattack this time.

He stood panting, his furious gaze locked on the crimson eyes of the mask. The shockwave and swirling dust from the aftermath struck him from behind, but the old man stood firm despite his battered, half-dead appearance—only his tattered pants fluttered in response.

His body was riddled with wounds and gashes, yet there was no sign of surrender.

Maverick too was exhausted, badly injured in several places, though the alchemical suit hid the full extent of his injuries.

The staredown lasted a moment, then the old man spoke, his tone surprisingly steady. "Bloodraven... right?"

Maverick raised a brow under his mask. This was the first time Morvain had used his alias.

"You're strong. In fact, apart from those seven, I doubt any wizard or witch could kill you..." he panted, his anger still simmering but his voice calmer than before.

"Why do this?" he paused, his tone sharp. "I meant what I said. Money—galleons, gold, Muggle currency, whatever you want..." He narrowed his eyes. "Just let me apparate out of here." His voice was steady, as if he expected his words to be obeyed.

"You die, and everything you possess will be mine," the figure opposite him finally responded. The distorted words only served to fuel the old wizard's rage further.

Rumble!

Magic flared from the old man. The build-up of rage was becoming palpable.

"CURSE YOU, CLOWN!" he yelled, his voice full of anger, almost on the brink of madness.

Maverick remained alert, his Magical-Sense never faltering.

He watched as the old man raised his hand, focusing on the ring on his finger. A piece of parchment—or perhaps the skin of some animal—appeared in his grasp. With a swift motion, the old man used his wand to slice a gash into his arm, letting blood drip onto the parchment.

The old man's narrowed eyes met Maverick's.

"You've forced my hand... I will skin you first, and then only kill you."

Maverick had no idea what was happening, but one thing was certain. The parchment the old man held radiated death. It was dark magic, the most vile kind he had ever felt.

---

Above the mountain.

"Not good..." Edward muttered, his eyes fixed on the scene below.

"That looks like a contract... Demonology!" He added, narrowing his eyes then turned his head, as if seeing something the others couldn't.

Unfortunately, the two magus next to him couldn't use Magical-Sense and could only perceive what they saw and heard. They gave the Arch-Magus a confused glance, but the man paid no mind to their gesture. They watched him raise his hand and begin chanting in a mysterious language.

...

About a kilometer away from their position, hidden under a Disillusionment Charm, another group of figures observed the devastation below.

At the forefront stood a tall, striking woman with thick dark brown hair styled in an updo. She wore elegant formal clothing beneath a luxurious fur-trimmed cloak, radiating the presence of someone of high status. Her sophisticated, commanding demeanor mirrored that of Edward.

To her right stood a little girl, barely reaching the woman's waist. She had blonde hair and wore a uniform.

To her left stood two middle-aged men. One was dressed in traditional Middle Eastern royal attire, while the other wore a blend of wizarding robes and the same aristocratic style.

A little further behind were four more men—two in suits with firearms strapped to their waists, and the other two in combat-ready wizarding robes. Their postures exuded professionalism and alertness.

Even the tallest among them barely reached the height of the tall woman's chest. It wasn't that the others were short; it was simply that the woman was abnormally tall, towering over them as if she were a half-giant.

Booom!

They all flinched, except for the tall woman, when another explosion echoed from below.

"This has to stop," the man in royal Middle Eastern attire said, glancing to his right and raising his head. His tone carried an accent that matched his appearance. "Do something… stop these lunatics before they destroy my country's heritage!" His words sounded more like an order.

The other man, dressed in a mix of wizarding and traditional clothing, gave him a sideways glance, his expression clearly showing disdain. "Sheikh Hassan, please show some respect to Madam Speaker. We're lucky she even decided to respond to your request."

The girl beside the woman also glanced at him, her irritation clear. "Teacher will act when she wants to, old man..."

Her words earned a sharp look from the older man. "What action? You want the entire mountain to disappear, little girl?" He paused, his tone growing more annoyed. "And this is not something a child should—"

"Be very careful with what you say next, Emir Hassan," the tall woman cut in, her voice firm and weighted, her French accent unmistakable. It was clear that the woman and the girl shared a close bond.

(A/N: "Emir" is a title used to address certain rulers or leaders in Middle Eastern countries.)

The older man flinched, his eyes widening before he quickly fell silent, as though the very air around him had grown heavier under an invisible force.

After a moment of tense silence, the other man said, "It's gone quiet," glancing down.

The tall woman raised an eyebrow. "It seems the old fool is desperate," she said quietly.

"Teacher, what are they saying?" the little girl asked, glancing up at her with curiosity.

The woman turned to meet her gaze and offered a small smile before looking back below. "The criminal Morvain seems to be trying to negotiate. He's offering wealth to the... mysterious man he's fighting."

"You mean he's losing?" the man in wizarding robes and traditional attire interjected, a surprised expression on his face.

"Apparently so," the tall woman replied, but her expression suddenly shifted, her pupils contracting. "Ce n'est pas bon..." she muttered in French, her tone solemn.

The little girl gave her a questioning look but noticed her teacher suddenly turn her head toward another direction and nod, as though in silent communication with someone.

Before the girl could ask, the woman spoke again, her voice steady yet commanding as she glanced at the now timid-looking Sheikh. "Emir Hassan, stay close to Minister Yasir." She turned to the others. "All of you, be on guard. Do not waver, no matter what pressure you feel on your minds."

She then looked down beside her. "Fleur, stay close. Hold onto my robes," she said gently but firmly, switching to French for the last part.

Raising both her hands, the magical construct they stood in began to rise higher and higher, stopping only when the mountain below appeared half its original size.

The woman started chanting in a strange, unknown language, her eyes glowing with an ethereal light. The others remained silent, their faces tense, but also filled with awe, as they began to feel the weight of powerful magic emanating from her like a heavy downpour.

They did not interrupt, understanding that something significant and dangerous may be about to unfold from below.

Before their eyes, a barrier began to materialize, stretching outward in a massive circular formation, covering at least a kilometer. Its sheer size was awe-inspiring.

To their surprise, another identical barrier formed far across from them, advancing toward their own. As the edges moved closer, the two barriers began to connect, forming a colossal dome that encompassed the entire mountain below.

—————————

Author's Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 86 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic