Oliver arrived in the northern suburbs of Hull, his black robes blending with the twilight shadows of Pearson Park. He found what he was looking for in a secluded clearing: a large crowd of homeless people and addicts, all kneeling on the damp earth, their bodies swaying as they prayed to some unseen entity.
The sight of the ritual sent a surge of fury through him. He rushed forward, his boots lashing out, knocking several of the worshippers to the ground. But they simply staggered back to their feet, their movements jerky and unnatural, and resumed their kneeling positions.
Frustrated, Oliver grabbed one of the men by the collar. "Stand up! Stop kneeling!" he snarled, pressing his wand to the man's throat.
The man's eyes were vacant, his soul seemingly hollowed out. Saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth as he continued to mumble the same unknown prayer, oblivious to the threat.
"So, what's your plan?" a calm voice asked. "Kill him because you can't save him?"
A swarm of butterflies coalesced behind Oliver, forming Aiden's solid figure.
"It would be better than watching them like this… watching them…" Oliver's voice choked, thick with emotion.
"Oliver, don't project what happened to your father onto these people," Aiden said, his gaze unusually sharp. "Don't try to be a savior. That is not a path for humans."
Oliver's hand fell away. The man he was holding collapsed to the ground and scrambled back to his spot among the others.
"Well, well. What a moving display of faith."
A man's voice, smooth and mocking, drifted from the shadows of the surrounding trees. Aiden and Oliver turned to see a man in his forties leaning against a tree, watching them with an amused expression.
"Aldred Cassius Locke," Aiden said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "A name associated with wisdom seems rather ill-suited for a man embracing anti-intellectualism."
Aldred laughed, drawing a wand and pointing it at them. "How can you call the world's truth anti-intellectual? Look at you. Wizards. Such an enviable existence. Aren't you yourselves the greatest blasphemy against so-called science?"
Aiden sensed a deep, festering malice in Aldred's voice, which was odd. According to his file, Aldred had no prior contact with the wizarding world. Aiden decided to probe with his own abilities.
"Who's to say our existence isn't part of science?" Aiden countered smoothly. "A man as educated as you must know that science is merely a practical method for understanding the universe."
"Save your ridiculous mind games, wizard," Aldred retorted. "Behold! With my Lord's gift, I can perceive the true nature of this universe." His gaze fixed on Aiden, his eyes burning with a fanatical, focused light. He stared, and stared, and stared—
Then his eyes exploded.
"What… what in the world are you?" he shrieked, collapsing to the ground. "Stay away from me!" He clawed at his ruined sockets with one hand while flailing wildly with the other.
As Aiden and Oliver moved in to apprehend him, a thin, black thread shot from the void and attached itself to Aldred. In an instant, his body was sucked dry, leaving behind a shriveled, desiccated corpse.
Aiden knelt to inspect the body and was surprised to find it was the corpse of a woman. "Interesting," he muttered.
He turned his attention to the remaining cultists, preparing to wipe their memories, but the black threads reappeared. They shot through the crowd, draining the worshippers one by one at incredible speed.
"Sectumsempra!" Aiden slashed his wand through the air. A blade of invisible energy severed one of the threads. A pained, unearthly howl echoed from the void before quickly fading away.
"Oliver, call for backup. Full memory wipe," Aiden ordered. He levitated the severed piece of thread, which writhed like a living thing, and sealed it in a glass bottle.
Oliver pulled a small black box from his robes, removed a shard of dark glass, and shattered it on the ground. The crisp sound seemed to travel for miles. Moments later, a team of Unspeakables Apparated onto the scene. At Oliver's command, they began performing a top-level memory cleanse, their movements swift and silent. Soon, a long line of blank-faced individuals was being led out of the park.
Aiden returned to the Department of Mysteries. The Director was waiting for him, lounging on a sofa in the center of the main hall.
"So, you let him get away, didn't you, you careless dragon?" the Director teased.
"How is this my fault?" Aiden shot back. "You knew what he was capable of and didn't tell me."
"I never expected you to catch him anyway," the Director said, sipping a bottle of Coca-Cola. He explained that the real purpose of the mission was to let the "new kid," Oliver, experience their "corporate culture" and get a taste of revenge. He hadn't anticipated that the Muggle, Aldred, would be bold enough to try and perceive Aiden's true nature.
The Director clapped his hands, and a projector rose silently from the floor.
"First," he said, as the projector displayed an image of a familiar, continent-sized island of consciousness, "we have confirmed that those scoundrels have uploaded their true selves to Avalon. Then, this second-rate pawn used the power of his master to travel freely between both worlds." The image changed to a large, pulsating purple crystal.
"Behold," the Director announced gravely. "The Deep Realm King, registered on the Unspeakable Tablets as 'The Foolish.'"
As he spoke the name, the space around them rippled. Inky black threads began to emerge from the cracks. A powerful neigh echoed through the hall as a silver unicorn burst into existence, its horn glowing with pure white light. It galloped in a wide circle, and wherever it passed, the threads dissolved and the spatial distortions smoothed over.
"A Patronus Charm?" Aiden asked, watching the magnificent creature.
"Of course," the Director confirmed. "The Patronus is our remedy against madness, an ancient and powerful form of white magic. Without it, we would have long ago become "Their playthings". It has also served as our beachhead for attack, as you well know." He patted the unicorn's neck, and it dissolved into silver mist.
Aiden silently tossed the bottle containing the severed thread to the Director.
"Fresh," the Director said, catching it with a grin. "We might be able to learn something from this."
He turned and opened one of the many doors lining the circular hall. For a brief instant, Aiden saw what was inside: a vast, sterile room filled with countless brains floating in glowing jars. Before he could get a better look, the door slammed shut.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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