27 Blitzkrieg Teleportation
The streets of London pulsed with life, a constant tide of footsteps and chatter ebbing and flowing around him. Lucas, his features obscured by a deft application of makeup and hair dye, moved invisibly through the crowds with practiced ease, his lightning scar concealed, his raven locks transformed into a nondescript shade of brown.
The Dursleys remained oblivious, their minds subtly influenced to overlook any discrepancies in his absence. His destination was clear – the Leaky Cauldron, the gateway to the wizarding world's famed Diagon Alley.
As he neared Charing Cross Road, the telltale signs of magic became apparent. There, nestled between a bookshop and a record store, stood the run-down inn, its weathered exterior ignored by the passing throngs.
Lucas paused, his senses attuned to the thermal currents emanating from the building's interior. Patience, he reminded himself, waiting for the opportune moment to slip inside unnoticed.
Ten minutes ticked by before a young woman, her clothing suggesting a Muggle-born witch, approached the entrance. As she pushed open the door, Lucas seized his chance, slipping through the narrow gap and into the dimly lit interior of the Leaky Cauldron.
His gaze swept over the various patrons – witches and wizards of all ages, engrossed in hushed conversations or poring over copies of the Daily Prophet, its moving images a clear indicator of the magic that permeated this place. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took in the scene, confirming the accuracy of the movies' depictions, albeit on a slightly larger scale.
Without hesitation, Lucas followed the Muggle-born witch as she made her way towards the rear door, his footsteps silent against the worn floorboards. The dimly lit interior of the Leaky Cauldron gave way to a small courtyard, the witch's wand raised as she tapped a specific sequence on the brick wall before them.
Lucas watched, his eyes narrowed in concentration, as the bricks began to shift and rearrange, grinding against one another in a mesmerizing dance. Gradually, an archway formed, revealing the fabled Diagon Alley beyond.
The sight that greeted him was both familiar and underwhelming. Crooked buildings lined the narrow street, their architecture a blend of whimsy and antiquity. Shops and storefronts jostled for space, their displays spilling out onto the cobblestones, beckoning passersby with an array of magical wares.
Lucas stepped through the archway, his senses assaulted by new sights and sounds. The air was thick with the mingled scents of parchment, potions, and more.
Witches and wizards of all ages bustled about, their robes swishing against the cobblestones as they went about their business. A group of children pressed their faces against the window of a quidditch supply shop, their eyes wide with wonder as they ogled the latest brooms and gear.
Lucas allowed himself a moment to take it all in, his gaze sweeping over the scene with a critical eye. To a child, this place might have seemed enchanting, a world of magic and mystery. But to him, it was merely somewhat lacklustre. But considering this was just a normal shopping alley, that should be expected.
Still, there was no time to linger on such musings. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he retrieved the assassin's wand from his pocket, the smooth wood needed for his next spell. Closing his eyes, he initiated the Vast Sea Visualization, a technique he had honed to near perfection.
The tranquil waters of his mindscape stretched out before him, the bedrock beneath altering in shape until it formed a perfect representation of Diagon Alley. He focused his will, envisioning a specific point five meters ahead, within the perfect representation. This would be his destination, the place where he would apparate.
Concentrating deeply, he channeled his will and intent through the wand, feeling the wand respond to his command. With a sharp twist, he turned on the spot, and the world around him blurred, the colors and sounds of Diagon Alley melting away.
In an instant, he reappeared at the precise location he had visualized, a loud pop accompanying his arrival. A triumphant smirk curved his lips – he had succeeded in apparating without incident.
Still, he knew that he wasn't done yet. What if splinching occurred, leaving a part of him behind? He needed to learn the un-splinching spell, a precaution against any potential mishaps.
His gaze fell upon Flourish and Blotts, the renowned bookshop beckoning him closer with its inviting display of tomes and scrolls. The scent of aged parchment and leather bindings wafted through the air as he entered the open door.
Rather than waste time scouring the shelves, Lucas opted for a more direct approach. He scanned the interior of the shop, his eyes roving over the patrons browsing the aisles. A wizard in his late twenties or early thirties caught his attention, the man's brow furrowed in concentration as he perused a thick volume.
Lucas extended his senses, reaching out with his mind, and gently probed the wizard's thoughts with Legilimency. Memories and knowledge flowed into his consciousness, a delicate dance of mental intrusion and extraction.
While the wizard lacked specific knowledge of the un-splinching spell itself, Lucas gleaned the information he needed – the name of the book that contained the incantation and instructions.
Without hesitation, he strode towards the indicated aisle, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting that lined the shop's floors. His eyes scanned the shelves, row upon row of leather-bound tomes and dusty scrolls, until he spotted the book he sought.
With a deft hand, he plucked the volume from its resting place, the weight of the tome a reassuring presence in his grasp. He ran his fingers over the embossed lettering on the cover, tracing the title that would ensure he didn't die because of an embarrassing mistake.
Satisfied, Lucas made his way towards the exit, his prize in hand. As he passed the wizard he had probed, he offered a slight nod of acknowledgment, a subtle gesture that went unnoticed by the engrossed reader.
The bell above the door tinkled softly as Lucas stepped out onto the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, the book securely in his hand.
With a quick glance around to ensure no prying eyes lingered, Lucas slipped into a nearby alleyway, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. He leaned back against the cool bricks, opening the book to the chapter on un-splinching spells.
His eyes scanned the pages, absorbing every detail, every nuance of the incantation and wand movements. The words seemed to etch themselves into his mind, a permanent fixture in his ever-expanding repertoire of magical knowledge.
Satisfied with his newfound understanding, Lucas closed the book with a decisive snap, tucking it away inside of his looted pouch.
oo0ooOoo0oo
With a decisive nod, Lucas wasted no time in exiting Diagon Alley, his footsteps carrying him swiftly towards the bustling streets of London. A subtle flick of his wrist conjured an invisible barrier, a bubble of air currents that would muffle any sounds he made. Glancing around to ensure no prying eyes lingered, he twisted on the spot, disapparating with a sharp crack.
In an instant, he reappeared at Leicester Square, the familiar sights and sounds of the London Underground station enveloping him. Without hesitation, he made his way towards the Piccadilly Line platform, his steps purposeful and unhurried.
The platform was a hive of activity, commuters and travelers alike milling about, their voices blending into a buzz of noise. Lucas found a secluded spot and settled in to wait, his eyes scanning the crowd with boredom.
Time ticked by, each minute feeling like an eternity, until finally, the telltale rumble of an approaching train echoed through the tunnels. As the doors slid open, Lucas slipped inside, his invisibility ensuring he went unnoticed by the other passengers.
Claiming a vacant seat, he cast a subtle Muggle-Repelling Spell, ensuring that no one would inadvertently stumble upon him. The train lurched forward, and Lucas leaned back, allowing the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks to lull him into a state of calm focus.
Fifty-three minutes later, the train pulled into Heathrow Terminal 1, and Lucas disembarked, following the signs that led him out of the Underground station and into the main terminal area.
The airport was a whirlwind of activity, a constant stream of people coming and going, their voices mingling with the occasional announcements over the loudspeakers. Lucas navigated the crowds with ease, his eyes scanning the signage that would lead him to the check-in area.
Without breaking stride, he climbed over the security checkpoint, ignoring the metal detectors and x-ray screening devices next to him.
Once past security, Lucas found himself in the departure lounge, a vast area of shops, restaurants, and gates. He paused, taking in the sights and sounds around him, before turning his attention to a nearby traveler.
With a subtle mental probe, he delved into the man's mind, extracting the information he needed – the location of the gate for the flight to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
Consulting the airport timetables, Lucas confirmed that the flight would depart in just over an hour, with a travel time of six to seven hours. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips – he had ample time to make his preparations.
The Dursleys wouldn't be looking for him anytime soon, and with summer vacation in full swing, he had no classes or obligations to worry about. In fact, his seventh birthday was just two days away, on the 31st of July, 1987.
He had already taken care of any potential visitors, ensuring that he would be undisturbed on his special day. And if all went according to plan, he would be celebrating his birthday with the Ebon Lord's corpse in pieces, a grim but satisfying gift to himself.
oo0ooOoo0oo
The scorching desert sun glared down mercilessly, the heat shimmering in waves across the vast expanse of sand. Lucas remained unaffected, his body enveloped in a cocoon of frost magic, the chill air a stark contrast to the arid environment around him.
This is it, he thought, his mind focused and his senses alert. No point in holding back.
With a sharp crack, he apparated from one spot to another, his movements rapid and precise. The memories extracted from The Viper played out in his mind's eye, guiding his path towards the Ebon Hand's fortress. He retrieved the Elemental Sphere from his pouch, the artifact thrumming with power in his grasp.
Pop. He appeared atop a towering dune, the grains of sand shifting beneath his feet. A quick glance around, and he was gone again, disappearing with another crack.
Pop. He rematerialized on a rocky outcrop, the jagged stones casting long shadows across the ground. His eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon for any sign of his destination.
There. A shimmering haze distorted the landscape in the distance, the clear signs of powerful spells at work. Lucas paused, retrieving the entrance token from his pouch. The smooth stone was etched with Arabic symbols.
He knew the moment he crossed the threshold, his presence would be detected. The spells woven into the fortress's defenses would alert the Ebon Hand to 'The Viper's' return, and he would have to act swiftly.
Closing his eyes, Lucas initiated the Wind's Gale and Water's Swell visualization, his body thrumming with power as his speed increased to that of a trained athlete. Simultaneously, he activated the Thermal Currents of the Vast Sea, his senses attuned to the heat signatures around him.
With a deep breath, he charged forward, his footsteps silent, his form invisible and thermally camouflaged. The shimmering haze parted before him, and he passed through the fortress's entrance, the token in his hand glowing briefly before dimming once more.
No time to waste, he thought, his strides carrying him swiftly towards the Central Courtyard. The Ebon Lord would investigate if The Viper didn't report immediately.
Sure enough, the enigmatic leader was there, his imposing figure draped in black, his face partially obscured by a veil of silk. He sat, engrossed in a tome, his black eyes scanning the pages with a detached intensity.
Lucas didn't bother with words. The moment the Ebon Lord's gaze flickered towards his location, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the apparent emptiness before him, Lucas struck.
A searing fireball erupted from his palm, hurtling towards the Ebon Lord with blistering speed. The Ebon Lord reacted instantly, his wand slashing through the air, erecting a shimmering barrier that deflected the fiery assault.
The battle had begun.
Lucas pressed his advantage, conjuring a torrent of water that crashed against the Ebon Lord's defenses like a tidal wave. The Ebon Lord countered with a wave of his wand, summoning a wall of earth to absorb the brunt of the attack.
The air crackled with energy as they traded blows, the courtyard rapidly becoming a battleground of elemental chaos. Lucas focused his intent and his hands started glowing red-blue.
A Frostfire Bolt lanced through the air, its icy core encased in searing flames, piercing the Ebon Lord's defenses with ease. The Ebon Lord retaliated with a barrage of curses, his wand a blur of motion, the air thick with the stench of ozone and the crackling of arcane energies.
Crack! The Scorpion apparated behind Lucas, her wand raised, her face twisted into a snarl. A jet of sickly green light erupted from her wand, the curse speeding towards Lucas's unprotected back.
Lucas sensed the attack at the last moment, his Thermal Currents of the Vast Sea alerting him to the danger. He twisted, conjuring a hasty shield of air and earth, but the curse slammed into it with brutal force, shattering his defenses.
Pain lanced through his side as the curse grazed him, tearing through flesh and muscle. Lucas gritted his teeth, his free hand clutching the wound as he felt the warmth of his own blood seeping through his fingers.
The Necklace of Protection pulsed with energy, its spell-infused blood activating, deflecting a follow-up curse from the Scorpion with a telekinetic burst.
No time to heal, he thought, his mind racing. He needed to end this quickly.
With a twist of his wrist, Lucas channeled his elemental magic through the Elemental Sphere, amplifying its potency twofold. A torrent of frost and flame erupted from his outstretched hands, the elements converging on the Ebon Lord and the Scorpion with unstoppable force.
The Ebon Lord's defenses crumbled, his body engulfed in the raging inferno, while the Scorpion was encased in a tomb of ice, her agonized scream cut short as the frost sealed her lips.
Crack! The Jackal apparated behind Lucas, his knife-like smile twisted into a snarl. A wave of his wand, and a flock of razor-sharp feathers materialized, speeding towards Lucas's unprotected back.
Lucas spun, conjuring a whirlwind of air and water, deflecting the feathers and slamming them back into the Jackal with bone-crushing force. The Jackal's body was flung across the courtyard, his wand clattering to the ground as he slammed into a wall with a sickening crunch.
Crack! The Vulture apparated beside the Ebon Lord's smoldering form, his beak-like nose contorted in rage. A flick of his wand, and a swarm of venomous serpents erupted from the ground, their fangs bared, their hissing filling the air.
Lucas's eyes narrowed, and he hissed a command in Parseltongue, the snakes freezing in their tracks, their heads bowed in submission.
With a gesture, he banished the serpents, their bodies slamming into the Vulture with bone-crushing force, knocking him to the ground.
But the Ebon Lord was not done yet. With a ragged gasp, he raised his wand, his movements sluggish but determined. A torrent of dark energy erupted from the tip of his wand, the malevolent force speeding towards Lucas with unstoppable force.
Lucas braced himself, conjuring a shield of frost and flame, but the dark energy slammed into it with the force of a freight train, shattering his defenses and sending him tumbling backwards.
Pain lanced through his body as the dark energy tore into him, shredding flesh and bone. Lucas cried out, his voice raw and primal, as he felt the malevolent force ravaging his insides.
Through sheer force of will, he managed to erect a barrier of air and earth, deflecting the remainder of the dark energy. But the damage was done, his body gravely injured and his will dangerously exhausted.
The Ebon Lord rose to his feet, slowly starting to point his wand in his direction. Lucas could sense the dark power radiating from the Ebon Lord's wand, and knew he had to act fast.
With a desperate effort, Lucas apparated behind the Ebon Lord and channeled the last of his strength into the Elemental Sphere, amplifying its power to the breaking point. A thick beam of razor-sharp ice surged out from the Elemental Sphere with great force.
The Ebon Lord gasped in shock as the Ice Beam impaled his heart. A scream of agony burst from his lips, his voice raw and primal, as the icy onslaught overwhelmed him.
When the mist of frost cleared, the Ebon Lord lay motionless, his body frozen and shattered, the veil of silk that had once obscured his face now a brittle remnant encased in ice.
Lucas collapsed to his knees, his body and will exhausted. But he had emerged victorious, the Ebon Hand defeated and their leader slain.
With a trembling hand, he reached into his pouch, retrieving a vial of crimson liquid – his own spell-infused blood, imbued with the power of the Body and Mind Revitalization spell.
As he drank the contents of the vial, he felt the warmth of the spell wash over him, his wounds slowly sealing, his strength returning. It would take time to fully recover, but for now, he had survived the ordeal.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he surveyed the devastation around him. They had gotten what they deserved for targeting him. Now, he had the time to slowly go through their base and loot everything they owned. After that, he would kill the oil magnate Khalid Al-Mansour for daring to put a hit on him.
