A mountain manor bathed in sunlight, surrounded by pine and stone, its presence blurred by layers of concealment magic so refined that even seasoned Aurors would have walked past it without a second glance. But Jason could feel the ward humming beneath his skin—tight, alert, and dangerous.
Cassia stood beside him, wand lowered but ready, her eyes never leaving the invisible boundary in front of them. She was tracing patterns in the air with her fingers, silently reading the ward’s structure the way a musician read sheet music.
The Auror captain—an older wizard with iron-grey hair and scars that spoke of decades in the field—stepped closer, gaze sharp as a blade.
“Enough analysis,” he said. “What’s the plan?”
Jason didn’t look at him immediately. His attention remained fixed on the ward, on the faint distortion where Harry had slipped through earlier.
“We wait,” Jason said finally.
The captain frowned. “Wait? There’s a hostage inside.”
“Yes,” Jason replied evenly. “And Lord Blackfire is already with her.”
The Auror captain stiffened slightly. “You’re telling me to trust one man alone in there with armed criminals.”
“No,” Cassia corrected calmly. “You’re being told that the criminals are alone in there with him.”
Still, the captain wasn’t convinced.
“If you attack too soon,” he said sharply, “they’ll panic. They’ll kill the girl, or worse—move her to a secondary location. We lose her, and this becomes a recovery mission instead of a rescue.”
Jason finally turned to face him.
“We are not attacking yet,” he said, voice steady but firm. “We attack only after Lord Blackfire gives the signal.”
The Auror captain crossed his arms. “What signal?”
Jason met his gaze without blinking. “You’ll know.”
That answer clearly didn’t satisfy the man, but before he could press further, Jason continued.
“He can’t hold them forever. He’ll secure the hostage, move her somewhere defensible, and lock the corridors. Once he does that, he’ll strike the ward from the inside. When that happens, this entire structure will shudder.”
Cassia nodded. “You won’t miss it.”
The captain hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll bring in more people. If this turns into a siege, I want every wand I can get.”
He raised his hand and barked orders. A pair of Aurors dissolved into mist and vanished, Apparating away to summon reinforcements.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The forest around them grew crowded. One by one, Aurors and Hit Wizards arrived under Disillusionment Charms, their presences stacking like pressure in the air. Wands were checked. Shields were pre-cast. No one spoke above a whisper.
Jason felt it then.
A tremor.
Cassia’s eyes widened. “That’s him.”
The pulse was violent.
The ward screamed.
A shockwave rippled across the invisible barrier, strong enough to knock several Aurors back a step. The concealment magic flickered wildly, its structure destabilizing.
Jason didn’t hesitate.
“NOW.”
Cassia slammed her wand forward, pouring power into the fracture Jason had created already. The ward—already compromised—shattered like glass under a hammer.
At the same instant, Disillusionment Charms dropped across the forest.
Dozens of Aurors snapped into view.
The estate exploded into chaos.
Shouts rang out as Dubois’s men rushed from every direction, wands already raised, curses flying before they fully understood what was happening. Defensive spells slammed into Auror shields. The night lit up with flashes of red, blue, and white magic.
“SECURE THE PERIMETER!”
“NON-LETHAL SPELLS ONLY!”
“MOVE—MOVE—MOVE!”
Jason sprinted forward with Cassia at his side, carving a path toward the manor doors. Inside, the estate was already swarming with hostile wizards—Dubois’s people, armed, desperate, and cornered.
This was no longer a rescue operation.
This was a battle.
And somewhere above them, in a warded corridor, a ten-year-old boy was holding the line—alone—until they could reach him.
The moment the ward shattered, the mountain estate became a battlefield.
From the tree line, the Aurors surged forward in disciplined formations, their movements sharp and practiced. Shields flared into existence in front of them like overlapping panes of crystal as the first volley of curses erupted from the estate.
“Protego Maxima!”
Blue-white barriers slammed into place just as streaks of crimson and sickly green magic collided with them. The impact sent ripples through the shields, forcing several Aurors back a step, but the line held.
“RETURN FIRE!”
A storm of spells answered.
Stunners cracked through the night like thunder, bolts of gold and scarlet slamming into the manor’s outer defenses. Several kidnappers were caught mid-charge, bodies stiffening as they were hurled backward into walls, unconscious before they hit the ground.
The courtyard exploded into chaos.
Dubois’s men scattered, abandoning their relaxed confidence in favor of raw survival instinct. Some dove behind stone planters and shattered fountains, others sprinted toward pre-prepared firing positions along the balconies. Curses rained down from above—Cutting Charms that sliced into stone, Blasting Charms that cratered the ground, and binding spells that snapped toward the Aurors like living ropes.
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A group of Hit Wizards broke formation and rushed the left flank, weaving between explosions. One of them flicked his wand sharply.
“Glacius!”
Ice surged across the cobblestone, instantly freezing the legs of three kidnappers in place. Before they could even scream, Stunners followed, dropping them cleanly.
On the right, an Auror captain raised his wand and shouted, “CONTAINMENT NET—NOW!”
A lattice of glowing silver lines burst into existence, arcing over a cluster of fleeing enemies. The net snapped shut, pinning them to the ground, magic draining from their wands as they struggled helplessly.
But Dubois’s people were not amateurs.
From the manor’s front doors, a heavy hitter stepped forward—a broad-shouldered wizard with burn scars across his face and eyes glowing faintly with potion-induced enhancement. He slammed his wand into the ground.
“Bombarda Maxima!”
The earth buckled.
A shockwave tore through the Auror front line, shattering shields and throwing bodies through the air. Stone statues exploded into shrapnel, and the courtyard briefly vanished in dust and fire.
“MEDIC—NOW!”
Several Aurors rolled to their feet despite bleeding ears and cracked ribs, firing Stunners even as they staggered. One Hit Wizard launched himself upward with a burst of wind magic, spinning mid-air as he hurled a chain of hexes downward, forcing the heavy hitter to retreat behind a pillar.
Above them, the balconies turned into killing fields.
Masked kidnappers leaned over railings, firing in disciplined volleys, trying to pin the Aurors in the open. One Auror collapsed as a curse clipped his shoulder, flesh blackening instantly.
A healer slid in beside him, wand glowing green. “Hold still.”
The flesh knit itself back together even as spells continued to crash around them.
Then the Aurors adapted.
“ANTI-ELEVATION SPELLS!”
A coordinated wave of magic surged upward.
Balconies shattered.
Stone railings disintegrated, and several thugs were flung screaming into the courtyard below, their fall broken only by hastily cast cushioning charms that saved their lives—barely.
Inside the manor, the fighting was even worse.
Corridors filled with smoke and spellfire as Aurors breached doors room by room. Every hallway became a maze of ricocheting curses, transfigured obstacles, and collapsing walls.
A kidnapper attempted to ambush a pair of Aurors from behind a staircase—
“Petrificus Totalus!”
He froze mid-lunge, crashed down the steps, and shattered the banister on his way.
Elsewhere, a witch hurled a swarm of conjured serpents into a room packed with Aurors. Before panic could take hold, a Hit Wizard raised his wand.
“Incendio Ventus!”
Fire spiraled outward in a controlled vortex, incinerating the serpents without touching a single Auror.
The estate ground became layered warfare.
Everywhere spells collided.
Everywhere screams echoed.
And through it all, Jason and Cassia did not raise their wands in battle.
They were already moving.
The moment the ward fell, they slipped through the chaos like ghosts, sprinting straight into the manor. Jason’s jaw was clenched, eyes scanning every rune and ward fragment as they passed.
“Harry better still be holding,” Cassia muttered, already weaving detection spells as they ran.
“He will,” Jason replied without hesitation. “He planned for this.”
They reached the staircase just as a group of wizards tried to reinforce the upper floors.
Jason flicked his wand—the staircase twisted.
Steps elongated, angles warped, gravity bent.
They stumbled, suddenly fighting the architecture itself. Cassia followed with a silent immobilization charm, freezing them long enough for Aurors to sweep in and secure them.
They didn’t stop.
They ran past stunned bodies, shattered doors, and spell-scarred walls, ignoring the battle raging all around them.
By the time the last resistance collapsed, the manor looked like a war-torn ruin.
The courtyard was littered with unconscious bodies, Aurors standing guard as healers moved among the wounded—on both sides. No one had died. The order had been clear, and it had been obeyed.
Dubois’s network lay broken.
Inside, the final pockets of resistance were crushed under coordinated Auror sweeps, disarming wards, and mass binding spells. The remaining wizards and witches surrendered once they realized escape was impossible.
The moment Harry felt the tremor ripple through the wards, he knew.
They had gotten the signal.
“They’re coming,” he said calmly, though his heart was pounding hard enough to shake his ribs.
Fleur Delacour stood a few steps behind him in the long, marble-lined corridor, her back pressed against the wall. Her silver-blonde hair was tangled, her robes torn at the hem, and fear shone unmistakably in her wide blue eyes. She had stopped shaking only because she was forcing herself not to fall apart.
Harry pulled his hood lower, shadowing his face. Right now, he wasn’t a ten-year-old boy.
He was a barrier.
“Stay behind me,” he told her quietly. “No matter what you see, don’t run unless I tell you to.”
She swallowed and nodded, clutching her wand with white knuckles. “D’accord.”
The corridor suddenly lit up.
On both ends, witches and wizards appeared as if behind invisible glass—faces distorted by layers of magic, wands raised, expressions twisted with anger and desperation. They couldn’t enter yet, but they could attack.
And they did.
A barrage of spells slammed into the warded corridor.
Blasting curses, cutting hexes, corrosive magic—each impact sent ripples across the translucent barrier Harry had raised with the ward stones. Cracks of light spiderwebbed across its surface, glowing lines flaring and dimming as the ward absorbed punishment far beyond what it was meant to handle.
Every hit left a mark.
Every mark drained power.
Harry’s gamer senses screamed warnings into his awareness.
[Defensive Ward Integrity: 42%]
[Stability: Rapid Decline]
Outside the shattered window, he could see flashes of combat in the estate grounds below. Auror shields flared like domes of light. Stunners streaked through the night. Explosions shook the manor’s foundations.
They had arrived.
That meant time was limited.
“Fleur,” Harry said without looking back. “When I tell you, cover your nose and stop breathing. Just for a few seconds.”
She hesitated only a moment. “I trust you.”
That trust weighed heavier than any spell.
The west side of the ward shattered first.
The barrier didn’t explode—it collapsed inward, like glass folding into dust. Cold night air rushed in, followed immediately by three attackers who leapt forward with reckless confidence.
Harry didn’t hesitate.
Green mist erupted outward, thick and fast, rolling across the corridor like a living thing.
“Now!” he shouted.
Fleur obeyed instantly, clamping her hand over her mouth and turning her face away.
The witches and wizards who had rushed in didn’t even have time to scream. The gas wrapped around them, seeping into lungs and eyes. They staggered, spells fizzling mid-cast, then collapsed one by one, unconscious bodies hitting the marble with dull thuds.
[Poison Mist – Non-Lethal Variant Activated]
[Targets Affected: 4]
Harry exhaled sharply.
No time to rest.
The other ward stone screamed under pressure.
The east side cracked.
Harry stepped forward, placing himself fully between Fleur and the opening, his body automatically shifting into a defensive stance as years of instinct and training took over.
This time, they didn’t rush blindly.
Two attackers fired suppression curses while another hurled a binding spell meant to pin Harry in place.
“Protego!”
The barrier snapped into existence just in time, sparks flying as spells detonated against it. Harry countered immediately, his wand movements sharp, controlled, economical.
“Expelliarmus!”
A red bolt tore through the air, ripping a wand from one attacker’s hand.
“Contundo!”
Another dropped mid-cast, sliding unconscious across the floor.
A third tried to flank—
Harry twisted, planting his foot and slamming his palm against the ward stone embedded in the floor.
The corridor pulsed.
A wave of force blasted outward, hurling the attacker back into the shattered ward remnants with bone-rattling force.
Pain flared through Harry’s arm as backlash from the collapsing wards bit into him. He gritted his teeth and ignored it. Fleur was still safe. That was all that mattered.
More enemies appeared at the broken edge—five this time.
Too many.
He raised his wand again, movements precise despite the ache creeping into his shoulders.
“Impedimenta!”
The front line slowed, their movements dragging as if they were pushing through syrup.
Harry followed instantly.
“Incarcerous!”
Ropes burst from his wand, wrapping around two attackers and slamming them into the wall. He didn’t give them time to recover, chaining spells fluidly, never lingering long enough to be overwhelmed.
All the while, he kept Fleur behind a separate barrier—thin, focused, layered specifically to deflect stray magic without trapping her inside with him.
Another curse slipped past his shield and grazed his side.
White-hot pain exploded across his ribs.
Harry staggered but stayed upright.
He forced himself forward.
“Enough,” he muttered.
His wand slammed down, channeling the last ward stone.
The corridor roared.
Light surged outward as the final barrier detonated—not destructively, but forcefully—knocking every remaining attacker off their feet, stripping them of momentum and consciousness in one decisive pulse.
Silence followed.
Broken only by distant fighting below.
Harry stood there, breathing hard, wand still raised, body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. The corridor was a wreck—cracked stone, scorch marks, unconscious bodies—but Fleur was untouched.
Slowly, he lowered his wand.
“It’s over,” he said softly.
Fleur uncovered her face, eyes wide as she took in the scene. Then she looked at him—not at the hood, not at the power, but at the boy standing in front of her.
“You… you saved me,” she whispered.
Harry didn’t answer.
Because at that moment, footsteps echoed from the stairwell—measured, familiar.
Jason and Cassia were coming.
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