HP: A Magical Journey Chapter 150

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

The darkness of the Forbidden Forest's Underworld looked quite different in Quinn's night vision. Everything was coloured in shades of grey, the objects lacked details… yet his eyes were highly susceptible to movements. His other senses worked harder to compensate for the fact that his vision was incomplete.

From his peripheral vision, Quinn noticed a mid-size acromantula crawl out of the bushes between the blackened trees, making soft clicking sounds from the faint rustle of leaves.

'Another attack?' he wondered, ice crackling with a faint mist below his palm.

He raised his arm up, a jagged ice spike floating along with it. The acromantula didn't seem to feel any fear in the face of the ice. Seeing the lack of reaction, Quinn's eye twitched, and he sighed. He raised his arm straight above his head and shot the ice spike straight up into the air with loaded force.

Instantly, a screeching scream sounded as a small-sized acromantula fell down just ahead of his feet. A thick rope of spider web attached from its spinneret was hanging above.

'If force isn't working, they're using brains, huh. I can respect that.'

The mid-size acromantula that was working as a distraction saw another spike manifest into existence, and this time it felt fear. The spider leaped into the bushes and scurried away before Quinn could send a spike its way.

He knelt on the floor, and with a pair of protective gloves adorning his hands, Quinn extracted some venom from the pincers and the already produced web-silk from its spinneret. He didn't doubt obtaining one of the more unusual materials on the market.

"If this keeps going, I will soon have a hefty stock of this stuff."

It had been a couple of weeks since he had started to explore the forest, and in all of his visits, Quinn had met acromantulas every single time. Argog didn't have control over his children, at least not much as he liked to think. The flesh-eating magical spiders were hungry for human flesh, and Quinn's regular visits were simply too much of a temptation.

After collecting the venom and silk, Quinn walked ahead; deeper into the forest. Within a minute of walking, treading between the trees, vines, and knee-length bushes, Quinn finally arrived at another region of the woods. His enlarged, dilated pupils and modified eyes reverted to their original state as he saw a stream of light illuminate a circular clearing.

He knelt down just away from the edge and peered into the only area he had reached, which had natural sunlight hitting the ground. He looked at the reason behind the reason.

Within the clearing were broken stumps, uprooted trees, grassless ground, skid marks ravaging the land, and within all of it, he saw the residents of the great clearing. Among all of that, ferocious roars and grunts resounded as Quinn watched forest trolls, pale-green skin, and straggly hair, armed with clubs crafted from uprooted trees.

The twelve-foot-tall, muscular monstrosities savagely fought each other. They bashed their clubs against each other, earnestly trying to defeat their opponent. One of the trolls finally seemed to gain an advantage as he struck the other trolls' clubs aside and raised his own club above his head before bringing down the sturdy clubs straight down on the head of the other troll.

A loud crack filled with an area with a painful roar, causing Quinn to flinch. But the sound was just the start, as a wave of more deafening roars pervaded the area. A horde of trolls sitting around the clearing, some of the tree logs, others on the ground, cheered at the fight's brutal conclusion.

'Damn, do they do this every day?'

Two times, he had watched the same scene two times. He had seen the forest trolls duking it out, and both times he had left after observing them, not daring to enter the light.

'One troll took a barrage of spells from the twelve-year-old me,' thought Quinn, 'I can incapacitate them quicker now, but a dozen of them? That doesn't...'

The danger was just too great. With no free water source near Quinn, he didn't have a magic that could use to wipe the trolls in one fell swoop.

'Fire could work, but the collateral damage would be too great.'

The area and power of magic weren't a problem. He could use some other elements with a lot of "firepower," but the problem was control. He was good with the other elements, but the level of control that Quinn needed to eliminate the trolls without the risk of setting the forest on fire wasn't a level that he currently had.

'Fortunately, I have something I can use,' he smiled and his body covered in black camouflage turned invisible. He stood up walked forward into the clearing.

The reason he had returned two times was because of scouting. He had found the density of trolls inside the darkness was much denser than outside. If he wanted to get past this part of the forest, he had to go through the clearing. Even with his invisibility magic, the terrain of the forest was rough enough for Quinn to hide all the noise. The grassless ground was his safest choice.

Step-by-step, he moved towards smack dab in the middle of the clearing.

'This reminds me of the chessboard,' he thought, smiling, 'The risks are around the same, aren't they?'

"Roar!"

His smile broke when he heard a roar from behind. Quinn turned to see a forest troll, larger than other of his kin, entering the clearing. His club seemed grander than others, ornated with various leathers and spiked with carved bones all around its surface.

The new forest troll had spotted Quinn.

'How in hell?!' he thought, but the answer struck him like a bolt of lightning as he saw the troll's eyes. The green troll's eyes were an off-white color, a shade barely different from the white of the eyes. Quinn knew in his heart that it wasn't just abnormal eye color but something magical.

"Trolls, like hags, possess rudimentary magic that in rare cases manifests in additional physical features."

A tidbit of information about trolls popped up in his mind. It had been so rare, that that information had been stuck in the corner of a page. It seemed it was something that was so rarely seen that it was barely notable enough to get printed in... "one freaking book!"

'He can see me. Something in his eyes can see me. What is it? Magic sight? Heat vision? Or something entirely different?'

He tried to think of the reason, but almost as soon as the thought entered, it was forcibly squashed as right now Quinn's priorities were different. He had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

His magic-aided mind worked overtime, and while he thought, the regular forest trolls stood up in confusion. They couldn't see Quinn, but their leader alerted them that there was an intruder here —and not just any intruder— they had a human among them.

Trolls, just like their neighbours, acromantulas, also loved human flesh, and they liked to eat the meat raw.

Quinn finally thought of a solution, spurring a line in his mind. It was one line that he recalled from the original works.

'Anyone can speak, troll. All you have to do is point and grunt.'

So that's what he was going to do.

'If this doesn't work. I am going to go on a rampage and run in the chaos.'

The magic started to leak out of Quinn; invisible streams of magic rose up, populating the area around him. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The image, sound, scent, and feel were unmistakable in his mind. Quinn already had everything, and the magic was within him.

'Let's go.'

The forest trolls had all armed themselves with their clubs and bones. The white-eye leader pointed at the spot Quinn was standing, telling his kind who couldn't see Quinn's position.

But before they could take a step closer, abruptly, a dominant roar shook the area. They saw a fifteen feet tall figure come running out of the woods. It was the same size as their leader, but it looked much wilder and more muscular than their leader. Instead of a club, it had a dull, rusted sword in his hand, which he dragged across the ground, gashing the earth as he stomped forward.

All trolls stepped back with their weapons clutched in their hands. They were scared of the newcomer's roar and size. The weapon, too, intimidated them. The dumb trolls had enough intelligence to gauge this one's intentions before charging in... the thought of the so-called invisible human.

The leader troll, unlike his lesser kind, could see what was going on. He could see that the new troll was just some magic done by the human, as he was standing behind the "new troll." It grunted to tell them the truth, but the new troll roared louder and raised his sword towards him, challenging him to a fight.

The forest trolls grunted in joy, excited to see a fight. They were confused about who to follow, and a "war" would solve that problem. They sat down, slamming their clubs against the floor repeatedly as in the tradition of forest trolls.

Quinn behind the "new troll" smiled. His plan was working.

'Illusions sure are handy,' he thought. 'thankfully, these guys are dumb, so dumb.'

He had copied the leader troll, altering some features, making his creation more intimidating. The sword interacting with the ground leaving gashes? That was simply earth magic emulating metal being dragged across the soil. The roars were sound magic, like the ones during his Tri-wizard performance, something he had mastered. He roared and grunted, challenging the big-bad troll to a brawl.

'If I win, I can walk out of here without arising suspicion,' he thought and looked at the leader, who looked pissed. He had walked to the middle, with his bone-spike club ready for attack.

'Oh, you big dummy, you're unlucky,' sighed Quinn with a smile, 'You might be big and a little special, but in the end, you're still a troll. The current me can wipe the floor of the twelve-year-old me... I could probably make him cry if I wanted, though that son of a bitch would probably try to pull something off...' Quinn shook his head to stop himself from thinking off-topic, 'So you're going down. Hard.'

Quinn decided to take on the role of the aggressive alpha troll and decided to make the first move. His illusion troll raised his blunt sword and ran forward to strike. On the other hand, he prepared a flesh-shredding curse in his hand, ready to shoot it when the metal made contact.

With his special sight, the leader troll knew that the troll in front of him was a fake, so his troll-brain decided to take the attack head-on; no defense was needed.

'Idiot.'

The rusted sword descended on the defenseless leader, and the moment the illusion met his corporal body, the troll's shoulder was shredded; it wasn't deep, but neither was it a shallow cut due to the tough troll skin. It was enough to send the leader into panic and shock. He grabbed his shoulder and raised his club for defense, but Quinn had already anticipated the actions.

'Can't let him rest, need to keep attacking,' thought Quinn and prepared a strong Depulso —it wasn't a duo or maxima— Quinn never used those versions, they used language to gain the extra power, and he never used any words while casting magic. His "spells" resulted from his pure understanding of the magic and transcended the limit of chant-triggered magic. Even though he called it Depulso, it was at its essence a push spell whose upper power limit was decided upon Quinn's understanding and the amount of magic he put in.

The illusion raised his foot and kicked the troll, and simultaneously the Depulso-replication made contact, sending the leader to the floor.

"Wu-argh!" grunted the leader in pain and surprise.

"WARGH!" roared the illusion and raised his sword in a reverse grip, moving in for a stab.

The leader was a tough and brawling-adept troll as he rolled aside to avoid the sword, causing the ground where he was just before to be ravaged by Quinn's magic.

'Tch, he dodged,' thought Quinn clicking his tongue, 'but... your opponent isn't a real troll; he is an illusion' A savage smile appeared on Quinn's face as he finished his thoughts, 'he can move faster.'

The illusion pulled out the heavy sword, which probably would have weighed a lot if real, out of the ground with an unnaturally swift speed and brought it up slashed down again. The experienced leader, with a mind only for brawling, sent out a kick, tried to sweep the illusion's legs.

Quinn scrunched up his face and made his illusion jump to avoid the sweep. He couldn't have the leader land even a single hit, which would take away the illusion; he could control his movement, but not the leaders'.

The illusion kicked the leader once in the shoulder, worsening the injury getting a howl from the leader. Quinn's troll took the chance and placed his foot on the leader's chest, holding him down.

'I won't kill you, but I can't have you interfering with me,' thought Quinn, 'I'm sorry... really, really sorry.'

The sword was raised and slashed across the leader's eyes, spurting blood, causing howls, effectively blinding the leader, taking away his only gift.

"RaaRgH!" screamed the leader, clutching his eyes.

Quinn's troll stepped back and grunted and roared at the smallest of the trolls among the troll horde. In a show of compassion and apology, Quinn ordered them to take care of the leader. Three smaller trolls lifted the leader up and took him away from the clearing into the darkness. The mournful screams eventually subsided, leaving Quinn alone with the remaining troll.

The illusion walked away without saying a word to the others, stepping out of the clearing. And in darkness, Quinn erased the illusion and decided to end the day with this.

'Next time, I will move on,' he decided, walking away from the forest troll inhabitants living in the Forbidden Forest.

- (Scene Break) -

Barty Crouch Sr. returned to his home after a busy day at the Ministry. He removed his coat and hat and hung them on the hangers, his eyes looking slightly confused and uncomfortable as he placed his hat on the hook; the man wasn't used to this particular action.

"Is work getting me?" he sighed, "Is my age getting to me? To think I would be tired just with this. This much was nothing in the old days."

He chuckled in derision at his current situation. From the prestigious position of DMLE Head to the Head of International Relations... how far he had fallen.

"All because my son decided that it was fine to join a Dark Lord," he sighed, and for a brief painful moment, the thought of his late wife flashed through his mind. "I should check on how that idiot son of mine is doing."

With his wand in hand, Crouch Sr. walked towards his son's room. He didn't know that Barty Jr. needed a new layer of Imperius cast on him. But as he reached the staircase that led to his son's room, the father noticed that a room not used in the house had light coming from inside. Confused with this sight, Barty Sr. removed his foot from the stair-step and walked towards the door with light across the edges.

The owner's hand reached the doorknob, but before he could grab it, Barty Sr.'s eyes glazed over; he withdrew his hand and stood still in his spot with a blank look. Within seconds, clarity returned to Barty Sr.'s eyes as he turned away from the room and the section of the house.

"He will be fine. No need to worry," he said, sighing, "I need to fix myself a drink."

But as he walked away, Barty Sr. turned his head back to look at the door, his eyes shaking as if struggling against something, before he glazed over once again and became calm as if the tremor had been a lie.

Inside the room left behind, still with light leaking through the gaps, sat two people; one thin and short with rat-like features while the other a wrinkled and hideous baby.

"Wormtail, any news from Barty?" asked the ugly baby.

"Yes, master," answered the calm man, matching eye with the ugly baby he called master. "Barty says that the boy has been made aware of the dragons awaiting him for the first task. Rubeus Hagrid took the boy and showed him the dragons."

"I see; what do you think of the boy, Wormtail?"

"I wouldn't know, master. The last time I saw Harry was when he was a year old; after that, I haven't had much contact with the Potter family," said Peter Pettigrew, "but from what I've heard, he's like James. If that's true, then Harry Potter is brash, reckless, and popular, but I'm sure Lily must've given something of hers to the boy."

Babymort stared at the follower who had brought him back with a cold gaze. His followers in his presence showed various behaviors; worship, fear, happiness, nervousness, servitude, and all other kinds of emotions, but he never had seen calm indifference as he saw now.

"Tell me, Wormtail, why did you seek me in Albania?"

Peter glanced up from the internal Ministry memos provided by the Imperius-ed Barty Sr. "The ruin of the Potters and their compatriots master. That's the reason I returned instead of leaving my previous life behind."

"... Meaning that you didn't find me for my sake. That's something dangerous to admit, don't you think Wormtail?"

"No reason to lie now, master. You already went through my mind after we got you this body. Neither you nor I gain anything from me lying about my motives. Not that it matters, the destruction of Potters is my main goal, and for you, it's a crucial step for your return to the crown of the wizarding world."

"What after that Wormtail? What after I do kill the boy and with him Dumbledores' little annoying group? What are going you going to do then?"

"Sometimes to achieve something, we have to lose something else," answered Peter looking at the burning fireplace, "as much as I would like to finally rest at the end of the Potters, I doubt you would allow that. So, servitude in return for my revenge that is the current plan."

"What makes you think I won't kill you when I'm done with you, Wormtail?"

Wormatil chuckled, an absolutely fake and dull chuckle as if the man had forgotten what it was like to laugh, causing Babymort's eyes to narrow a fraction.

"I don't know what the future holds or what are your plans for me, master. Currently, I simply yearn to see the lifeless eyes of James, Sirius, and Remus. Ask me the same question on that day; maybe I will have an answer then."

"You're playing a dangerous game," said Babymort in his squeaky voice.

"The moment I turned up at your doorstep all those years ago, I was already part of the game, master. It's just now I'm finally playing to my fullest," responded Peter removing his eyes from the fireplace.

"I don't trust you, Wormtail."

"A wise decision, master."

The conversation between master and servant ended. The room regained its previous silence.

Neither cared about each other, and both knew that fact well, and maybe it was because of that that they worked so well together. As long as their goals aligned, the threat of betrayal was not present, making the two each other's greatest allies.

Quinn West - MC - Let's go! Real-life Fighting game!

Leader - Forest troll - Possess-ED magical eyesight.

Babymort - Voldemort - Doesn't have the Cruciatus urge in his current form.

Peter Pettigrew - Wormtail - Has forgotten what it's like to laugh.

FictionOnlyReader - Author - How did you like the fight? I will be switching things up in the future.

Chapter end