"Boom—"
"Bang—"
"Dang dang—"
"Click."
Leaning against the sturdy tree trunk, William glanced at the two figures not far away, still engaged in battle, exchanging blows with golden light emanating from them. He was silent for a moment, then stuffed the remaining quarter of a watermelon into the mouth of the nearly asleep Norbert, slightly spacing out for a moment—
Isn't the style a bit too quirky? Aren't we wizards? Aren't we supposed to be playing with magic?
William's Magic Rune Stone Statue had been brawling with that mysterious mummy for a full two and a half hours, but so far, neither seemed to have sustained any visible damage—or rather, even if one party had their belly blown apart by the other's punch, the damage could swiftly heal as soon as the golden light on their body flickered again.
It wasn't that William hadn't tried to intervene himself or have his Pokémon join in the fight—but that mummy seemed to have no stamina bar or health bar; even when torn to shreds by Norbert and Lina together, it could return to its original form after a blinding golden flash.
But even a Fire Dragon would get tired, so the only one who could still wear it down was William's Magic Patterned Stone Statue. Although its attacks often couldn't harm the mummy, the same went for the mummy's attacks against it—they were at a stalemate like this, until dusk settled—
"...Finally."
William certainly hadn't been idle the entire time. Looking at the iron cage in front of him, covered with runes he had inscribed, he stood up, tossed Norbert to the ground, then gestured for him to get moving. Norbert looked at the cage, then at William, his wings trembling with hesitance—
"It's not for you, so what are you scared of?"
"Roar!"
Hearing this, Norbert no longer hesitated, his form starting to expand, claws enlarging as they viciously slammed into the iron dragon. The ear-piercing clang of metal made William instinctively cover his ears, but despite the heavy blow, the iron cage remained undamaged. William nodded in satisfaction.
At that moment, the mummy, who had been engaged in fierce battle with the golem, turned its head upon hearing the sound, a hint of human-like confusion flashing in its vacant eyes. Then, without hesitation, it turned to try and retreat—
"Did I say you could leave?"
Watching the mummy leaping onto a tree trunk, William tapped his wand lightly, causing the swiftly moving figure to abruptly freeze in mid-air. The restrained mummy let out a roar, its body shining with golden light, but before its swaying form could vanish, a large sword also gleaming with golden light sliced downwards to sever it—
The withered body still lacked any blood, and the severed body parts continued to move even after falling to the ground. But before the mummy could piece itself back together and fully regenerate, William had already placed the iron cage—now transformed into a Demon Rune Cage that once held Greyback—over it.
Then, a matching metal base snapped into place, and a blue glow flashed and disappeared around the cage.
"Great, gotcha!"
William clapped his hands in excitement. Though that tenacious Voldemort had slipped away, hadn't he captured something new? His previously vexed mood brightened considerably, and as he watched the mummy furiously striking the cage bars in an attempt to tear him apart, William instructed Kabuda to put the cage away—
Thanks to the magic runes, the teleporation runes on its shroud were completely ineffective inside the cage.
The next step was figuring out how to make this thing less... ferocious. Hmm... I wonder if pouring half a pint of Draught of the Living Death down its throat would help...
...
...
"...Peter Pettigrew is already dead, which should be good news. As for me, I'm doing well, as the Ministry of Magic has recognized my legal status again, though they don't plan on returning the confiscated Blake family assets. Luckily, the goblins still acknowledge 'me,' so I'm doing just fine, no worries.
If you want to meet me, just write me a letter; your owl will find me.
By the way, there's a small gift attached with this letter, wishing you a great weekend.
Sirius."
After reading the letter, Harry picked up the envelope he had set aside and felt around, pulling out a neatly written parchment, along with a card tucked inside—
[This is your Hogsmeade permission slip. After all, I'm your godfather. I specially asked Dumbledore, and he said it's alright.]
"Looks like you'll be able to join us for a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend!"
Peering over Harry's shoulder, Ron also caught sight of the parchment's text and exclaimed loudly, "Finally, you can join us in choosing sweets at Honeydukes! Last time, Hermione and I even argued over whether you'd like Cockroach Cluster as a gift."
"...Obviously, I'm not a fan of it."
Harry shook his head, flipping the card in his hand over to read further, "And, I think your friend Ron might be willing to adopt this owl. After all, I was the reason he lost his rat, though I'm not sure if he'd want to continue pet ownership."
"Adopt it?"
Ron widened his eyes, looking at the little owl excitedly calling atop Neville's head.
This owl was pitifully small, even seeming only a bit larger than Crookshanks' head.
Hesitating for a moment, Ron grabbed the little owl, holding its wings as he handed it to Crookshanks, who was squatting by the fireplace, daydreaming, "What do you think?" Ron asked the big cat, "Are you sure it's really an owl?"
"Meow meow."
"Alright, looks like there's no problem then—"
Ron happily nodded, holding the owl tighter, "Then it's mine!" The little owl held in his arms ducked its head and fiercely pecked Ron's finger, probably thinking this was an endearing gesture.
Looking at the bustling Ron, Harry's awareness suddenly started to blur; he instinctively leaned back, but the soft warm sofa did not bring him the slightest bit of warmth, a bone-chilling cold began to spread from the soles of his feet upward, the boy wanted to struggle or shout loudly, but couldn't even open his mouth—
"...Harry?" He heard Hermione's somewhat anxious voice coming from a distant place, "Are you alright? Harry!?" This was said by Ron, his face still carrying an unrestrained grin, though for some reason his left eye looked larger than his whole head, "I'll go find Madam Pomfrey—" Neville muttered as he ran off, tall and thin like a bamboo pole.
Harry could confirm something was definitely wrong, but...
"Buzz—"
Finally, a harsh buzzing sound rang out, darkness completely swallowed Harry's consciousness, and the boy simply fainted, his legs kicking.
…
"...da Kedavra!"
Suddenly, the blinding green electric light pierced the air, also stinging Harry's eyes. He tilted his head, somewhat dazed and helpless, staring at the scene before him, watching the fire dragon wreaking havoc in the sky, every place it passed was like falling dumplings, Harry instinctively wanted to rub his eyes... only to find he seemed to have no hands...
Oh, and didn't seem to have eyes either.
He lowered his "head," only to realize he seemed to be just a mass of black smoke, now trapped inside an upside-down glass cup.
What am I?
Harry was shocked, instinctively wanting to move, only to find he not only lost his body, but even this black smoke was not under his control. Presently, this black smoke kept using its top to bang against the glass cup's wall, making "dang dang—" sounds.
Realizing he seemed to be just a bystander now, Harry decisively gave up further efforts, his gaze involuntarily cast skywards—
Watching that familiar figure stepping on the fire dragon's back, Harry suddenly couldn't distinguish whether this was his dream or reality. He gazed entranced at everything happening in the sky, involuntarily starting to feel some envy—wondering when he might also be able to do this...
"Avada Kedavra!"
Never mind, better not to... using Unforgivable Curses like this as basic attacks would definitely get one locked up in Azkaban, right?
Finally, when the battle in the sky began approaching its end, a crisp "crack crack" sound fell into Harry's ears, the consciousness controlling the black smoke seemed to hear this sound too, and Harry noticed his gaze moved, turning toward a pile of corpses not far away—
"Crack crack—"
A figure cloaked in black but still showing twisted limbs stood up in the middle.
What is that thing?
Just as Harry was about to see clearly beneath that black cloak, his perspective suddenly rose, then directly slammed to the ground, the glass cup imprisoning him exploded, and Harry saw himself swiftly fleeing in one direction, his gaze lingering not far behind—
Thus, Harry saw the reason for his escape from the glass cup, and also saw the middle-aged man raising a magic wand at this moment.
Platinum blonde hair, ghastly pale skin, and though his whole body was dusty, still showing the fine quality dark suit, Harry furrowed his brow—this was, Draco Malfoy's father?
Harry had seen Lucius once or twice, and his deepest impression was of him and Mr. Weasley tangled in a brawl.
"Expelliarmus!"
The red charm lighted up, but Harry didn't see what happened next, as the consciousness controlling this mass of smoke had already turned its gaze away, and countless scenes flew rapidly past Harry's vision at such speed he felt he had flown out of the United Kingdom, until he saw that wooden sign over his head reading Malfoy Manor—
Harry stopped, but not because he wanted to, at the moment he dashed out of the garden, a figure similarly dressed in a black wizard robe suddenly stepped out from the side of a flower bush. He first glanced at the blazing manor ruins not far away, then extended his hand, grasping the black smoke escaping from the manor within his palm.
Harry felt a surge of furious emotion appear within himself, instinctively wanting to curse.
"Ignorant soul, you should have gone to the Nether River for its baptism long ago... hmm?" Suddenly, Harry heard a low inquiry voice coming from underneath the black robe.
The next moment, he only felt that his vision once again went black...