Harry Potter: The Legend of Nero Ravenclaw

Chapter 153: Chapter 153: Cracking the First Outpost



The ruins sprawled like a broken corpse beneath the storm-choked sky, jagged spires of stone reaching for the heavens like skeletal fingers.

The air was thick with latent magic, old curses crawling along the ground like restless ghosts.

Nero moved silently, steps light, wand ready. 

His Imperiused Talon walked ahead, guiding him through the twisted labyrinth of the Shatterveil.

The silence stretched between them, but Nero welcomed it.

Silence made him sharper.

"How far is the outpost?" he asked quietly.

The Talon didn't turn around. "Three more kilometers east," he said, voice flat. "It's a guard post. It reinforces the outer defensive barrier around the fortress."

Nero's eyes narrowed as he studied the terrain. 

His Raven Eyes traced faint veins of magic stretching across the land like decayed roots. 

This outpost appeared as one strand in a web binding everything to Malrik's ritual.

"Tell me everything about the outpost." Nero ordered.

The Talon trudged forward, boots scraping against stone. "Six guards. Shifts every six hours. The fortress sends new men and supplies every two days, sometimes they bring fresh Black Talons to replace anyone wounded or dead."

"How long since the last shift?"

"Four hours."

Nero's lips thinned. Still enough time to strike.

"How many has Malrik taken this month?" he pressed, voice like a winter wind.

The Talon's gaze flickered. "Seventeen."

Nero's jaw clenched. "How many returned?"

The Talon hesitated. Nero's eyes narrowed.

"Answer me."

The Talon's voice dropped to a rasp. "None."

Nero exhaled, his grip on his wand tightening. "How often does he do this?"

"Lately, every week," the Talon croaked. "Whenever despair runs too thin, or when the tree weakens. The more pain, the faster the fragments form."

Nero's eyes grew colder. "And the ritual? How close is Malrik to finishing whatever he started?"

The Talon's steps faltered, a shudder running through him at Malrik's name. "I don't know. He says that the souls he's gathered… they aren't enough. He keeps saying the tree is hungry. He needs more… much more. He'll keep sending us until it's ready."

Nero's stomach twisted, a chill settling in his chest.

If Malrik's men, or the ritual weren't stopped, there wouldn't be anyone left to save.

He nodded. "Keep moving."

—————————————————————————————

The outpost loomed ahead, a crumbling tower stitched together with runic barriers, glowing faintly against the dim horizon. 

The wards flickered like dying embers, weak but still potent enough to be dangerous.

Six Black Talons patrolled the area, their armor dented, their faces hard and cruel. 

The outpost pulsed with faint magical energy, feeding something larger, stretching back toward Malrik's fortress.

"Approach them," Nero said. "Do exactly as I told you."

The Talon staggered toward the gate, limbs stiff like a puppet.

The guards snapped to attention, wands raised.

"Identify yourself!" one barked.

The Talon coughed, voice rasping. "Commander... sent me. The patrol... dead. The intruder... killed them all."

The guards exchanged wary glances, lowering their wands slightly.

Nero moved like a phantom.

"Expulso."

The ground beneath the nearest guard exploded, hurling him against the wall with a sickening crunch. The other guards shouted, scrambling to react.

Nero didn't wait.

He Apparated mid-step, reappearing behind another guard before the man could turn.

"Stupefy."

The guard dropped, unconscious.

The remaining four unleashed a barrage of spells, curses tearing through the air like whips of light.

Nero didn't block. He moved.

He flickered out of sight, Apparating five meters to the side, the curses missing him by inches.

Spears of ice erupted from the ground, impaling one guard through the leg, pinning him in place.

Three left.

One conjured a whip of flame, lashing it toward Nero with a savage snarl.

Nero ducked, flicking his wand. 

The flames unraveled into harmless water, splashing against the stone.

The Talons faltered.

Nero used that second.

"Incarcerous."

Thick ropes burst from the tip of his wand, binding another guard like iron chains.

Two left.

The remaining Black Talons, eyes wild, began to edge backward, only to find the ground behind them had turned to slick, unnatural ice, silent and sudden, the frost spreading in a spiderweb pattern from Nero's feet.

One slipped, arms flailing for balance. The other tried to pivot and run.

Too late.

Sharp spears of ice erupted from the frozen earth, impaling both men in a single, brutal moment, lifting them off their feet and pinning them to the shattered stone. 

Their dying breaths misted in the cold air before silence fell again.

Nero's gaze never flickered. 

He lowered his wand, the frozen ground already melting at his feet, leaving no trace but blood and shards of ice.

One of the Talons struggled against the conjured ropes, eyes burning with fear and fury. 

Blood pooled from the dead and the dying, cooling quickly on the ice-laced ground.

Nero crouched down, his expression impassive.

"Talk," he commanded, voice cold as winter steel. "How many outposts are there? Where are they?"

The man hesitated, defiance flickering, then broke under the force of Nero's gaze.

"Seven," he rasped. "Scattered through the ruins… each one bound to the fortress by anchors, magic that feeds the ritual at the heart."

Nero's eyes narrowed. "What about the cursed clan's people?"

The Talon swallowed. "Most are kept in the lower dungeons of the fortress. Sometimes a few are moved, to the outposts, for certain rituals. But… they rarely survive long."

Nero pressed on, clinical and unyielding. "How does Malrik control the anchors?"

The Talon's gaze darted, sweat beading on his brow. "I don't know, I just know that he can feel the flow of magic through them. If an anchor is destroyed, he'll know. He always knows."

A chill slid down Nero's spine.

Destroying the anchors would risk everything. Malrik would sense the sabotage immediately.

"Thank you, you have been helpful" Nero said, voice quiet.

He stood up, casting one last glance at the shivering prisoner.

"Take care of them." Nero ordered the Imperiused Talon.

Without hesitation, the Talon turned and raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green flash of light flared once.

Then again.

The Talon stood motionless as the bodies hit the ground, smoke rising from their lifeless forms.

—————————————————————

Nero slipped into the outpost's tower, wand drawn. At its center, etched runes glowed faintly, a magical anchor, pulsing like a diseased heart.

He crouched beside it, senses sharp. If I destroy it outright, Malrik will know immediately. But if I corrupt it, slowly, quietly, it'll take time to unravel. Time I can use.

He pressed his wand to the stone. "Corrumpere Nexus."

Dark magic seeped into the anchor, tainting its core. The pulse stuttered, weakening with every breath. In two or three days, the anchor would fail, and the ritual's power would falter, one thread at a time.

But that wasn't enough.

Nero's gaze flicked to the relics lining the walls, magical amplifiers, feeding energy back to the fortress. If I can disrupt the flow…

He inverted the energy, the relics shuddering, their light flickering out of sync. The magical current grew unstable, weakening the fortress's defenses.

For the final touch, Nero masked the disruption with a clever illusion, a trick to make the instability look like nothing but a harmless fluctuation. It wouldn't hide the corruption forever, but it should delay the realization.

He had picked up this skill by learning from his curse-breaker teacher, Sebastian Drake.

Next, he transfigured the ground, carving deep claw marks into the stone and scattering bits of shattered armor. 

Blood trails led away from the outpost, disappearing into the darkness of the ruins.

It looked like the guards had been dragged away by mutated beasts.

He set scorch marks along the walls, mimicking the residue of acidic saliva from one of the Shatterveil's monstrous predators. 

A creature attack. One that left no survivors.

Nero stepped back, surveying his work. It was meticulous, thorough.

The outpost was crippled, but it would appear functional for days. 

By the time the corruption fully unraveled, it would seem like a monster attack, buying him time to sabotage the next outposts.

Nero wiped the sweat from his brow and turned back to his Imperiused Talon.

"Lead me to the next outpost," he ordered.

The Talon nodded, and they vanished into the shadows.

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