Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 95: Beyond Magic? (I) (CH - 115)

Swish. Swoosh. Boom.

Spells streaked through the air in bursts of vibrant colors as they collided mid-flight with sharp cracks and bright flashes. Each impact sent waves of energy across a grand stadium where two wizards moved effortlessly with precision, locked in a heated battle showcasing their skill and power.

ROAAAAR!

Watching their clash of spells was an arena packed with an energetic audience. They roared thunderously with excitement as one duelist twisted away from a piercing blue hex, then erupted in cheers when his opponent sent a spiral of golden flames arcing through the air, followed by waves of heat.

...

Inside the VIP stand, Maverick watched this chaotic dance of power unfold before him with the ease of someone long accustomed to such displays. While others gasped and cheered at every close call, to him, it was nothing more than a routine exchange of spells—hardly worth any excitement.

Most of his attention rested on Isabella as he listened to her insights about the duel. She claimed she could best them, and Maverick half-agreed. She was now at the Magus rank, a feat not easily achieved by some one her age. Of course he him self is the exception.

Nonetheless, even when she had been a mere Mage Apprentice, he had known she was no pushover, easily capable of taking on several at her rank. Edward Garling had raised and trained her well, and it showed in her skill and confidence. Even now, as she watched the duel, there was no admiration in her gaze—only quiet judgment.

Aside from their discussion, Maverick also traded a few words with Lord and Lady Greengrass, but beyond that, there was nothing there that held his interest.

As for the pair who so foolishly thought themselves important, they had not bothered him since—nor anyone else for that matter—and simply sat watching like any other spectator.

Yet, their stiff expressions and lack of enthusiasm made it clear they were not enjoying the match. The only reason they remained was perhaps, only for the sake of appearances, not wanting to lose face by leaving early.

Maverick had taken the time to find out exactly who they were.

A simple inquiry to Lord Greengrass had done the trick. At first, the man had almost choked on his drink at Maverick's blunt question. But after Maverick assured him that they wouldn't hear a thing—demonstrating by cursing at them loudly without so much as a flicker of reaction—Greengrass finally relaxed and explained.

As it turned out, they were quite the pair of characters.

The arrogant prick happened to be last year's dueling champion and, in a way, the old man's student. As for the old wizard himself, he owned several magical creature farms, monopolizing many rare materials within his circle and supplying them to various countries worldwide. That alone made him a powerful figure with connections everywhere, even without considering that he was a Great-Magus rank wizard.

But then Lord Greengrass added something else—something that wasn't exactly a big secret, yet remained out of public knowledge.

This old man, Tarhan Özdemir, was a major player in the underground magical trade. He was perhaps the one who controlled the circulation of everything—from rare, highly illegal magical materials to forbidden spells found in the shady markets of every country's magical community.

Maverick glanced back at the man, who still sat there, seemingly engrossed in the duel. Then, a plan began to take shape in his mind. He had been in need of a Marquis-level wizard for quite some time, and as luck would have it, this trip had presented him with the perfect target.

But for now though, he returned his attention to the match.

...

The clash of spells reached its peak when two Disarming Charms met in midair. Both casters struggled to overpower each other and sparks crackled around them sending small shockwaves rippling through the arena. The tension held for a moment until finally, one spell broke through, then a wand flew from its owner's grasp and spun high into the air before landing on the ground.

The match was decided, and the crowd erupted in cheers. The victor stood tall and enjoyed the applause, while the defeated drew in slow breaths and tried to keep himself calm. Excited voices filled the arena as the audience reacted to the outcome.

In contrast to the loud celebrations in the general stands, the VIP box was much quieter. The occupants still cheered for the side they supported and engaged in animated discussions, but their voices were softer than the rest.

And amid the celebrations happening, two figures silently rose from their seats just moments after the commentator announced the winner. It was the old wizard and his student, and they quickly strode away without a word or glance toward anyone.

Maverick caught their movements from the corner of his eye but showed no reaction. On the surface, he appeared indifferent, blending into the celebratory atmosphere around him. However, without anyone noticing, he had already marked them with tracking magic before they hurriedly left.

As the excitement in the arena began to settle, others in the VIP box started making their way out. Among them were the Greengrass couple, preparing to leave. Before they could step away, Maverick spoke.

"Lord Greengrass, if you have some time over the holidays, I'd like to arrange a meeting with you," Maverick said.

Lord Greengrass raised a brow, intrigued but not pressing for details. He considered for a moment before replying, "I'd be happy to host you, Master Caesar. Why don't you join us for dinner at our estate the day after tomorrow?"

Maverick gave a small nod. "That works for me. I'll see you then."

With that, the Greengrasses shared their address before taking their leave, leaving only a few lingering guests in the VIP stand. Before heading out himself, Maverick took Isabella to meet with Flitwick. The small professor greeted them warmly, and they chatted for a bit—mostly polite conversation and a few thoughts on the duel.

By the time everything wound down, it was nearing midnight.

Having no need to stay longer, Maverick and Isabella left the arena—and the country itself. In just a few seconds and a space rift later, they reappeared in America, where the sun was still high in the sky. The cool night air they had left behind was replaced by the warmth of the afternoon.

Keeping a steady pace, Maverick walked Isabella to the door of the Garling residence. As they reached the entrance, he stopped and told her he had something to take care of first and might not return that night.

Isabella gave him a curious look but did not ask any questions. She simply nodded before stepping inside, leaving him to his business.

—

In an opulent chamber lined with velvet drapes and golden fixtures, the sharp sound of shattering porcelain broke the silence.

A vase lay in shards across the marble floor.

"How dare he humiliate me!" a young man snarled. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His face twisted in fury, and his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Across from him, Tarhan Özdemir sat calmly with his hands pressed together, seemingly deep in thought. At the same time, he kept part of his attention on his fuming student showing an unreadable expression.

"I'm going to find out who that English bastard is and put a bounty on his head—"

"Enough, boy!" Tarhan interrupted sharply, visibly irritated by the outburst in front of him. His tone was cold and carried undeniable authority. "You will do nothing until I find out exactly who he is."

"But, Master, he—"

"I said enough." The old wizard's gaze darkened. He understood the boy's frustration and allowed it to a degree, but there were limits. One of the reasons he had taken him in as a student was because the boy reminded him of himself in his younger years—impulsive, prideful, and a strong unwillingness to accept defeat.

His brows furrowed slightly before he adjusted his tone. "I do not tolerate humiliation either, but I will not act blindly. That man was no ordinary wizard."

The young man scowled but held his tongue in the end. His frustration was clear, but he knew better than to challenge his master's decision.

With the outburst finally silenced, the old wizard returned back to his thoughts.

The feeling Maverick had exuded earlier—that suffocating feeling—was not foreign to him. And yet, he found it difficult to believe that the young man was truly an Arch-Magus, or even a Great-Magus for that matter.

He had lived for a century and knew the face of every Great-Magus alive today, not to mention the seven monsters who stood above them. He had memorized every name and face that held significance in the world of magic, and the face he had seen earlier today belonged to none of them.

"Perhaps it was some kind of artifact," Tarhan mused. "A tool that allowed him to project dominance..."

The thought settled, and a possibility came to mind. In the East, there were artifacts said to store a portion of one's power. Heirs of ancient families carried them as a last resort—not to strike down an opponent, but to intimidate and force them to retreat.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea made sense. It seemed like the most plausible explanation.

But even if he was wrong, he would not let the matter rest. He would at least find out who the young man was.

Rising from his seat, he strode across the room to a large desk in the corner, and pulled open a wide drawer, revealing rows of neatly arranged small mirrors. Each one had a name inscribed beneath it.

His finger moved down the labels until it stopped at a familiar name—one of his information brokers. If the young man had a name worth knowing, he would have it soon.

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Behind him, his student continued to seethe, muttering curses under his breath. His anger had not faded—it had merely found another target. A slow, twisted smile crept across his face as his thoughts turned to Isabella.

"When I find him," he muttered, "I'll take that woman of his and—"

The lights flickered.

The flames in the fireplace wavered, their glow fading as if something unseen had drained the warmth from the room. The chandelier above swayed, its light pulsing weakly before dimming further. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, shifting like living things.

The room darkened.

Both men went still. The air thickened, pressing down with an oppressive weight. A silence heavier than stone swallowed the space, smothering even the crackling of the fire.

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Author's Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 147 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic