New chapter! Thanks for all the support!
x
Madness and chaos spread as they had more than ten years ago.
Blazing flames spread in every direction, sweeping across the whole campsite. Wizards inside the tents shouted and rushed out.
Figures moved everywhere. Spells flew in all directions. Terrible laughter mixed with the cries of Muggles and echoed into the sky.
The British Ministry of Magic was truly impressive. At a Quidditch World Cup gathering of one hundred thousand people, they had not even arranged a proper Auror unit to maintain order.
Expect wizards to obey rules on their own?
Was that possible?
Even a thousand Muggles could not be expected to follow rules without anyone maintaining order, let alone one hundred thousand wizards from all over the world.
It simply could not be done.
There were also no real protective measures and no background checks.
No one knew how many Dark wizards had slipped into this crowd of one hundred thousand. It was practically the perfect opportunity to create a major incident. It would be a waste not to make some grand trouble here.
"Tormenting Muggles makes you feel accomplished?"
"A pack of trash."
Just as the frenzied wizards were about to continue their torture, a thunderous roar rang into the sky. The shouting wizards clutched their ears in pain. Temporary ringing left them deaf for a moment.
Without magic sustaining the spells, the campsite manager's family fell from the air. Less than half a meter from the ground, a breeze caught them and gently placed them down.
When everyone recovered their hearing, a strange, rhythmic dance track began playing nearby.
A huge moon had risen at some point, illuminating the road ahead. Three broad, muscular figures appeared in the sight of the frenzied wizards.
The one in the lead stood with both hands on his hips, legs crossed, flamboyant to the point of absurdity. Dudley Dursley.
The one on the left crossed both arms and spread his fingers, holding them less than five centimeters from his face. Neville Longbottom.
The one on the right half-crouched, holding both hands in a cross before his chest. Harry Potter.
Not far from the three of them sat a speaker. The strange rhythmic music came from there.
Without music, something would have been missing.
Cold gazes swept across the crowd. On the surface, this looked like a group of drunken wizards causing trouble. In reality, it was organized and planned.
On the surface, they seemed to be destroying whatever they passed. In reality, their route and objective were extremely clear.
They were approaching Dudley's tent.
The answer was very simple.
For Harry. For Harry Potter.
Were they Death Eaters? Or simply drunken troublemakers?
Dudley was rather curious. There were still restless Death Eaters daring to show themselves.
One had to remember that their master had not yet returned.
Whoosh.
Without a single extra word, more than ten spells glowing green shot straight at the three of them.
They were not Avada Kedavra.
Only ordinary curses.
Before Voldemort had truly returned, before the order established by the Ministry had completely collapsed, even evil Dark wizards who genuinely wanted to kill someone had to weigh the consequences before using the three Unforgivable Curses.
So they only dared to make trouble here in small ways.
Otherwise, why not attack the Ministry directly?
Facing those spells, Dudley merely pushed out his chest while keeping his hands on his hips and took all ten-plus curses head-on.
Chest against curses. No pressure at all.
His body did not change in the slightest, as if the curses had failed.
His resistance to magic was simply greater than anything those curses could do, allowing Dudley to ignore those attacks.
This level of magic was too weak.
In an instant, Dudley judged the group of wizards.
A disorganized crowd.
Seeing their first attack fail, the wizards immediately released a second round. More than ten curses flew out again. Their targets were clear, and their attacks came with definite rhythm.
On the other side, Dudley slowly drew his wand. The magic crystal along its side gave off a faint glow.
With one powerful wave, the ten-plus curses vanished like stones sinking into the sea.
Just like Dumbledore facing countless Death Eaters more than ten years ago.
Easy. Casual.
With strength far beyond ordinary wizards, Dudley resolved danger with a simple movement. His every gesture carried something of a true master.
Before the wizards could recover, Dudley lightly waved his wand again. Ropes formed from earth shot up from the ground, knocking wands away at once and binding the wizards who had just attacked him tightly, wrapping them into balls.
At the same time, Harry and Neville rushed out to both sides.
They were extremely fast, so fast that the wizards only felt a gust of wind pass. A good number of them were struck before they could react.
In truth, although Harry and Neville had developed quickly over the holiday, they had not yet reached such an exaggerated level naturally.
The reason they possessed bodies this strong now was that they had drunk a potion Dudley had given them.
It granted the abilities of four beasts at once. Its name was the Bravestarr Potion.
The eyes of a hawk let them sharply catch the trajectories of incoming spells.
The ears of a wolf let them detect small movements and tricks from enemies.
The speed of a leopard let them avoid waves of curses with ease.
The strength of a bear let them slap enemies into rolling heaps.
What made wizards stronger than Muggles was their varied and wondrous magic.
Their nerve reflexes, stamina, and physical strength were not very different from ordinary humans.
With the power of four animals reinforcing them, Neville and Harry moved as if blessed. With Dudley holding the line, they shuttled through the wizards and beat them until they could not fight back.
One should never underestimate those four abilities.
Although they represented only four animals, each had its own specialty and stood among nature's best.
Take the strength of a bear alone. A full-force blow from such a creature could reach sixteen hundred kilograms, several times stronger than a professional heavyweight punch. A blow like that would not leave much chance to beg for mercy.
The highest recorded human sprinting speed was Olympic level. A leopard's ordinary speed was far beyond that.
A small amount of potion had let Crookshanks stand above the pets of Hogwarts. What if the drinker were human?
Even if one replaced the opponents with werewolves, the wizards most suited to close combat in the magical world, multiplying their number by ten would still leave them beaten on the spot.
Under the enhancement of four beasts, Harry and Neville were like two little supermen, charging back and forth through the crowd of wizards. Wherever they passed, nothing remained standing.
Their speed was like lightning. Their strength was overwhelming.
Their fists swept through everything, each movement heavy and fierce.
The boxing style they used was an old, hard-hitting routine Dudley had taught them.
Dudley used magic. Harry and Neville used fists.
Clearly, Dudley had done this deliberately.
Wizard combat was not limited to foolishly waving a wand.
He wanted to use reality to tell everyone one thing.
The old era was over.
x
x
x
If you're enjoying the story so far, consider supporting me on Patreon ❤️
You'll get weekly early access to chapters, along with some exclusive content:
https://www.patreon.com/cw/TheDevotedReader