C039 - Heimdall & Assassin training

My left leg was bleeding, the pantlegs and shoes on both of my feet as good as gone, hanging on by the last of their threads. I guessed my left leg was broken from that explosion, but I couldn't care yet. It hurt, and I couldn't put any pressure on it. That was all I needed to know for right now.

"Gather their corpses and get me somewhere where I'm allowed to cast spells, please, Patrick," I ordered with a shaky voice through the pain.

Two deep breaths later, I was still in the woods, but somewhere completely different. I used the mechanism of the hidden blade again to make it sink back and took out fresh, clean clothes from my pouch with shaking hands.

"Please clean this place up a bit and make sure I stay dry for a moment," I whispered as I took out my wand and sat down on a small boulder.

I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and steeled my nerves. Flitwick taught me that this spell worked better when the wand touched the wounds.

"'Confervare'," I whispered and immediately cringed even harder than I had when I pushed the tip of my wand into the open wound on my left leg's calf.

The bone-'knitting'-charm was more painful than I had imagined.

"'Confervare,'" I whispered again some moments later when the pain had stopped.

I had never used this spell on a living person, let alone me, so I wouldn't know from experience when it was done with its work. The pain told me my first application of the spell wasn't enough.

And just like that, I went through that self-inflicted torture half a dozen more times until the pain stopped being blinding. For good measure, I cast 'Brackium Emendo' on the Jugson corpse to see if Gilderoy Lockhart was actually right and it healed bones as opposed to vanishing them cleanly for a Skele-gro potion to do its job properly.

But nope, the bones did vanish despite my intent screaming at it to work. So that spell was a bust, just like when Lockhart vanished Harry's bones at that Quidditch match in year 2 of canon.

After my bones were tended to as best as they were going to get, I cleaned the open wounds with a few 'Scourgify', the general cleaning charm that actually worked on wooden splinters and dirt in a wound - tested on one of the animals we hunted in survival class when nobody looked, and then tried my best to close the wounds with several applications of 'Episkey', the minor-healing-charm.

Once that was done and I was just about ready to sleep while sitting up, I still transfigured a branch to perfectly fit my left leg below the knee as a support, took one of the clean clothes and cast 'Ferula', the bandaging charm that not only bandaged the wounds with the provided material but also eased pain and supported splints applied to broken bones.

"Find me some loose wood and stack it around me," I ordered and got ready to apply some survival knowledge as I sent away my elf on an errand.

A few minutes later, I felt myself close to falling into a coma but had a serviceable shelter for the rainy night that would keep me warm, hidden from muggles and free from pesky insects and other critters. I had a few of the clothes in my pouch bunched up on a straightened-out and softened rock that would serve as my bed and Patrick had gotten me some clean water somewhere in the forest along with the wood.

"Okay... I'm too beat... you deal with the corpses... take anything of value for yourself... check it for tracking charms... throw the corpses in the woods of Horsham south of here... mutilate them more if you want to... just make sure... you're back to protect me..." I instructed Patrick with the last of my strength and fell asleep before my head hit the pillow as I was laying down in the makeshift shelter.

As I dreamed, I noticed that I didn't see assassins either killing or training in ancient Europe. Instead, for the first time in months, I saw the Norse 'Gods' Odin and Tyr. And it didn't take me long to figure out that opposed to being in a bird's view perspective of the scene, I saw this event unfolding in the first person view of one of these 'gods', Heimdall.

The change brought with it some new sensations, but curiously enough, I still didn't have any audio. Instead, I learned everything that Heimdall learned during the dream, or at least it felt like that. Odin had gathered his son Heimdall and trusted ally Tyr, one of the smartest Aesir alive to craft an unbreakable chain in this dream. Yet, no matter how they tried, their crafting resulted in failure after failure.

Eventually, Heimdall saw Odin talk to Ivaldi, a dwarven master-craftsman, and ordered him to craft Gleipnir, the magical rope able to bind anything and the dream ended.

I woke up, strangely more energized than I had thought possible. My leg felt fine, if a bit itchy because of the split and bandage. My head was unprecedentally clear.

I more or less learned about half of the Old Norse runes as well as the principles of rune crafting from actual Norse gods in this dream... and I didn't know how to feel about that.

Was I not just someone with memories of this universe I was in thanks to book knowledge from a previous life in a similar yet mundane universe? Was I somehow linked to these Norse gods? A reincarnation of them, Heimdall in particular, or something else entirely? Was Heimdall also reincarnated into all of these assassins I kept seeing in my dreams?

I couldn't wait to learn how and why I had these dreams and what they had to do with the brotherhood.

'Shit, the brotherhood!'

I got out my wand as quickly as possible and cast 'Tempus' to learn it was barely 7:13AM, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had feared it was already close to noon, and that wasn't how I wanted to present myself to Jacob Frye and whoever he'd bring in to teach me hand-to-hand combat.

"Any news? Did someone come or investigate?"

Patrick shook his head and snapped his finger.

"Patrick saw nobody. Patrick stole some food from a bakery nearby for breakfast. Patrick hopes you don't mind," the elf said as he handed me a bunch of croissants and a dry loaf of bread.

Thankfully, it was fresh, so with a bit of water, I didn't mind the spartan breakfast much and thanked my elf.

"Alright, bring me to Crawley," I ordered after destroying the shelter I had built for myself.

Checking myself over once more, I knocked on the gate of Frye Manor and entered the grounds.

Jacob greeted me at the door like last time and invited me inside.

"You're right on time. Maxime arrived merely half an hour ago," Jacob excitedly explained and had me eat a bunch of fruit to make sure I had something light in me for what was to come.

The man who would teach me introduced himself as Maxime Grom, fifth generation assassin trained by his mother Julia Grom, who, according to him, was one the fiercest assassins alive during the Cold War. I didn't like the man much on account of him rubbing me the wrong way with his utter disregard for anyone not part of the order, but he was still young - barely five years older than me and already close to getting the master assassin rank... once more: according to him.

The training was harsh, not only because of the physical demands but moreso because Maxime used bladed weapons with sharp edges during our spars. I would learn more if I feared the pain, he said, and Jacob didn't stop him either.

Just like that, Maxime and I trained actual swordsmanship and dagger combat for hours upon hours, and he only shifted to teaching silent takedowns close to sunset that Saturday.

For twelve and a half hours, I worked out with my leg still hurting a little, but I didn't let that stop me. I couldn't, because in all honesty, it hadn't yet dawned me on that I actually ended two lives.

Two people, who I faintly remember were actual death eaters involved in the attack on the Department of Mysteries the night Voldemort showed his return in the ministry in canon year five.

Gibbon, to my knowledge, was also the one who cast the death eater's Dark Mark over Hogwarts the night Albus Dumbledore died.

'I guess he won't be doing that in this lifetime,' I mused as we stopped training, and Anna, one of Jacob Frye's apprentices, brought me to my room for the night.

"Are you satisfied with the hidden blade Master Frye had given you?" Anna asked before leaving, and I only now started paying attention to her, which I was pretty apologetic about.

"The blade is marvelous. The craftsmanship, to my untrained eyes, has no flaws, and I'm very thankful to Old Man Jacob," I said with as much gratitude as I could muster as I regarded the pretty blonde.

And I meant it. I had killed with it already, and who knew what could have happened without me having the hidden blade last night?

"There's still the matter of more personal... more modern weaponry. Are you interested, little Lion?"

'I don't think the Weasley twins would ever let me live down the fact that an ancient organization gave me a codename like 'little Lion'. To be fair, I'm still not sure if this isn't just Jacob Frye messing with me...'

"Well, if I'm allowed to order it and if you are capable of getting it to me in time, I would want the whole catalog if I was being honest," I said and reached for the tall trekking backpack I arrived with as a disguise for my extended pouch.

I reached in and got her £50k that I laid out on the table.

"Uh... is this enough?"

Anna looked gobsmacked for a moment before her smile turned wry.

"It is more than enough. Master Frye would not have made you pay full after learning about your family situation," Anna admitted, and I realised that, of course, the assassin would look into me. I wondered what they thought about me attending Hogwarts, the illustrious boarding school hidden in secrecy no muggle was allowed to know more about. That is, if the orphanage even gave out the name of the school... or if the matron even bothered to write down the name of the school.

"You got this money legally?" Anna eventually asked after taking away half of the stacked cash.

"Almost. Think about Robin Hood," I answered cryptically because I knew Anna would play along.

"Ah, you are certainly a poor little fellow," she cooed and regarded me like a sister would her little brother. "Now all I'm hoping is that the rich had it coming?"

"Indeed, I only took from the worst and reported their operation after," I claimed as I shamelessly stole Patrick's credit.

"The Morrison family in Dover two weeks ago?? That was you??" Anna suddenly asked, breaking the character she was trying to play. She looked downright frightened and the atmosphere immediately turned awkward.

"Uh, no? I don't think I've been to Dover?" I cautiously answered because Patrick hadn't told me who he robbed and reported, and I didn't want credit for something specific where it wasn't mine... or Patrick's. Credit can be a good thing, but in the world of assassins, it could also spell your death sentence.

"Oh... makes sense since you're in a boarding school all the way north in Scotland... The Morrison's ran one of the biggest smuggling rings in the UK out of Dover with their ferry business. Calais in France to Dover on the east coast used to be in a chokehold of their family, but now the MI6 somehow got wind of their entire operation with a ledger for every bribe they ever paid, and the family boss says there's sixteen million pounds missing from his safe."

I looked at Anna like she had a screw loose and asked, "And you thought THAT was my doing?"

She had the decency to blush and said, "Sorry, it was just so recent in my memory. We've been asked to swoop in and get a marketshare in the ferry business on the Strait of Dover..."

"Are you sure you're allowed to tell me that?"

"Ah, pishposh, little Lion," Anna waved away with her blush still going strong. "You don't know our front and none of our operatives. What good does it do for you to know our organization has its fingers in a shady business with tens of competitors? Of course we would."

After a little more banter, Anna left, and I got ready for bed. I was completely exhausted, but only physically for today. Yesterday was something more, something much more draining with all the magics I had used and endured in combination with the two first kills.

'I... should ask Harry if his elves did that Morrison thing... I did tell him about Patrick's modus operandi... and he gave this MO to his elves, I could see his seven fanatic troublemakers going for a big fish like a smuggling ring... all Harry would have needed was to overhear someone boast about it somewhere, and the boy would be smart enough to figure out the rest.'

The next day, after a dreamless night for once, Maxime once more trained me until two hours after lunch time, which was when Anna volunteered herself to bring me to King's Cross station in London. Apparently, she had something to do in the city anyway, and I needed a proper destination to pretend to be a boarding school student.

The car ride was mostly quiet, and I realised midway that this might have been my first time inside an actual car in this life outside of the school bus and the Knight Bus. I still wouldn't get a driver's license, most likely, but I had to admit that Anna's black, boxy-looking C-class Mercedes looked really cool.

When we finally arrived at the train station after riding on empty roads mostly, I watched Anna walk to the trunk with curious eyes.

"I hope you don't mind an extra suitcase for the journey?" She asked as she lifted the hood.

"Uh, nope. Is it heavy?"

"Not as much as you fear," she said and visibly strained as she heaved out a sleek-looking steel suitcase that was next to my backpack in the trunk. "Okay, maybe I underestimated that. Jeremy said it was only so-so when he loaded it earlier. What an idiot."

The Jeremy in question wasn't the butler-looking fellow from last time but an actual attendant of the house and an actual, fully-trained British butler. He cooked a mean Wiener Schnitzel earlier on Maxime's request and got me hooked for more. He could have been a master assassin all the same, but if he was, his training was impeccable.

'I don't think any of the recipe books I've given to the elves had any recipes like this,' I idly thought as I thought about Jeremy once more. An oversight I intended to fix in the coming months.

Anna sent me off with a brief side-hug when I finally had my backpack on my back and the suitcase rolling beside me. I went inside the train station, looking everywhere with my eagle vision to see if someone was looking for me.

I found nobody at the station but still decided to get a ticket for the five hour train ride to Edinburgh. I even got on the train and drove all the way to Edinburgh, just because of my paranoia.

The train ride was quiet and dull, but I alleviated it by reading books I brought along. I desperately wanted to open the suitcase, but sadly I wasn't alone in my coach and the old man sitting next to me already looked at me weird because the book in my hand had the title 'Battling Evil Forces: A Guide To Powerful Countermagics'.

"Fantasy book," I offered with an 'embarrassed' smile and ignored the man for the entirety of the train ride. Most magic books bought at a store in Diagon Alley were enchanted to drop from a muggle's mind the moment they stopped looking at it anyway.

Jeremy had packed me a bunch of sandwhiches, and they were all fantastic. I should probably send Patrick to the same butler school Jeremy went to to steal their secrets, but I wasn't desperate enough just yet to go through with that.

Once in Edinburgh, I vanished near the train station and arrived at a magic café with a public floo in the back where muggles wouldn't see. There, I called Flitwick and asked to be allowed through, which he allowed with no problems.

Yet, one problem arose when I arrived at his office. Flitwick didn't mind me being gone for the weekend. My killings weren't yet reported to anybody, and I wasn't in any trouble for my muggle attire.

But I was stupid. And Flitwick just had to ask, "What's in that suitcase, Talion? Looks heavy."

Why did I forget to store that thing away???