MARVEL-THE MULTIVERSE TRADER

The beasts tore into the front yard of a large, stately Muggle home. Two young figures stood their ground, desperately hurling spells — Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

Bolts of red and blue light streaked through the air, but they bounced harmlessly off thick, matted fur. The werewolves barely flinched. Their magic was weak, unrefined, and couldn't punch through the beasts' innate resistance.

Then a man — a Muggle, pale and determined — burst from the house. A shotgun roared once, blasting a werewolf's head into mist. He turned to fire again, but another beast tackled him hard to the ground.

A scream cut through the night.

Nova's head turned toward the house—and paused.

A dark-haired woman stood frozen in the doorway, clinging to a pistol with both hands. Long legs, wide hips, a trim waist, and a chest straining against a nightgown maybe a size too small.

"Bloody hell… that's Granger's mum? Merlin's saggy left bollock, why didn't the movies show that?"

Hermione's voice cracked as she screamed for her father.

Nova sighed.

"Can't even admire fine craftsmanship for a minute without someone getting mauled."

A flick of his wand — just for appearance's sake — and a nearby iron garden rake twisted itself into a jagged spear, hurtling into the werewolf pinning the man. The beast flew back, impaling against a stone fountain with a wet crunch.

All heads snapped to him.

Nova lifted a hand in lazy greeting.

"Evening."

Harry gawked. "W-who—"

"Later, kid," Nova muttered, already moving.

A werewolf snarled and lunged.

Nova casually side-stepped, wand flicking sideways. A section of cobblestone street lifted and shot forward as a cluster of jagged stones. His aim was off — two stones missed, bouncing harmlessly. Nova frowned.

"Tch. Sloppy. Haven't done this under pressure. Need to tighten my focus."

He drew a sharp breath, recalling countless lonely hours inside his trunk's enchanted space.

"Two years locked away, practicing theory until my brain bled, then breaking myself perfecting control. I didn't crawl through that grind to miss now."

A second flick, slower and sharper, and the stones shimmered in mid-air, reshaping into slender metal-tipped bolts.

They rocketed forward.

Three werewolves dropped instantly, their bodies riddled with the makeshift projectiles.

Nova grinned.

"Better."

He turned to the kids, speaking like a smug professor addressing first-years.

"See? Your spells are garbage against them. High magic resistance, to your teenage magic reserves. When power won't cut it, use your brain. The world's full of weapons if you know how to spot 'em."

Hermione, wide-eyed and panting, managed, "W-what do we—?"

"Relax, sweetheart. Watch closely."

He gestured sharply.

A collapsed wooden trellis splintered into jagged shards, each piece hardening and sharpening mid-air. With a precise snap of his wrist, the shards whirled like a storm of knives. Two more werewolves went down, one impaled through the throat, the other gutted by a dozen strikes.

The last two beasts hesitated, growling low.

Nova's lip curled and flicked his wand again.

A metal lawn chair transfigured into a tangle of iron vines, whipping around one of the werewolves' legs. It yelped as it was dragged backward, caught fast.

The final beast bolted.

Nova let it run a few yards. "One escapee keeps the story alive."

Then, with a sharp motion, the wrought iron gate behind it twisted into barbed spikes, impaling the creature mid-leap.

Silence fell.

Nova exhaled, flexing his fingers. " Kid, this is how you demolish werewolves."

He dusted off his sleeves and approached the stunned children.

"Lesson one," he called. "Don't pick fights you're too weak to win. Lesson two — if you must fight someone out of your league, don't rely on cheap spells. Use what's around you. Transfigure, improvise. Magic's a tool, not just light shows."

He smirked. "Lesson three — Transfiguration's not just for classroom essays. It's for keeping you alive."

A casual wave sent the remaining debris settling neatly to the ground.

Nova gave them both a wink. "Class dismissed."

He looked at the pair, and raised his eyebrows

Despite the fact Nova had saved their lives, Harry and Hermione still stood defensively, wands trembling but raised, eyes wide with fear and suspicion.

Smart kids.

Nova gave them an easy, disarming smile, lowering his wand as if he hadn't just turned a pack of lethal predators into bloodied lawn ornaments.

"Greetings," he began smoothly, voice casual, pleasant. "Name's Nova Ashbourne. Muggleborn — like you," he added, tipping his head toward Hermione, whose grip on her wand faltered slightly.

There was a brief, tense pause as Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance — uncertainty, relief, and wariness flickering across their faces in quick succession.

Harry cleared his throat first, forcing his voice steady. "Harry, Harry James Potter."

Hermione stepped in a heartbeat later.

"Hermione Granger," she said, her voice still tight but clear. "Thank you… for helping us."

Nova grinned, waving off the thanks. "Well, couldn't let seven mutts redecorate the neighborhood with your organs, could I? Besides—" his eyes flicked back to the house, lingering a touch too long on the milf cradling her husband, "some sights are worth stepping into a fight for."

Hermione frowned, following his gaze, then scowled when she realized what he meant. "Seriously?"

"What? I appreciate fine gods craftsmanship when I see it," Nova replied with an unapologetic smirk.

Harry groaned quietly, though a corner of his mouth twitched. Despite himself, the man was impossible to read — and oddly, in that moment, a little reassuring.

" Anyway, I was out on a stroll," Nova went on, voice casual, conversational, "when I felt temporary wards settle over this neighborhood. Which is odd, because Muggles don't exactly put up anti-Apparition fields or magic dampeners."

He let the words hang, watching their confused expressions.

"Thought maybe some Ministry Aurors were working a covert op, or maybe a couple of kids were getting cheeky with spells where they shouldn't. Figured the Ministry would swoop in the second an underage Trace went off."

His gaze swept over the carnage, the bloodied lawn, and back to the pair.

"But no Aurors came," Nova went on, his tone light but edged, "even though it's been more than ten minutes since your first spell went off."

He tilted his head, his voice lowering, silk over sharpened steel.

" Which is very interesting."

Nova took a slow step forward, his smile still there, but clearly intrigued look on his face. Which Nova was deliberately showing and faking. After all he could guess entire plot.

"So, I have to ask — do either of you have an enemy? Someone petty and dangerous. Someone whose father has enough pull in the Ministry to do things like… quietly suppress an underage magic alert in a Muggle neighborhood. Maybe stall the Trace notifications. Maybe hold back Auror teams that should've been here five minutes after your first spell hit the air."

Hermione went deathly pale, her lips parting as realization dawned and her mind ran ahead of his words, connecting the implications far too quickly for comfort. She turned sharply to Harry, who was already stiff, his face tightening with a mix of confusion and rising anger.

After a tense heartbeat, Harry growled lowly, "Look — sure, we had a run-in with Draco Malfoy on the train back from Hogwarts. A couple of insults, a wand drawn, but nothing serious."

He shook his head, his voice sharp and frustrated.

"But it shouldn't be enough for this. I mean—if Draco was really that petty, then Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley should've been dead years ago. They brawl with him every damn second they meet. Hermione and I… we're background noise in their spats."

Hermione bit her lip, her face paling, a cold, sick twist forming in her stomach as the implications finally sank in.

This wasn't some random attack, it was planned.

And worse — their magic should've triggered Trace notifications the moment the first spell left their wands. Every underage witch and wizard knew it. The Ministry's enchanted detectors were relentless, especially in Muggle neighborhoods. One accidental Lumos in the wrong place could bring an Auror squad down on you in minutes.

But here they were — multiple offensive spells cast, dark creatures prowling, a house torn apart — and not a single Auror in sight.

Hermione's grip on her wand tightened. No trace, no response, no help.

A cold, unsettled silence lingered for a moment before Hermione's brow furrowed, her logical mind refusing to accept the unbalanced scale of this madness.

After a moment's quick, frantic thought, she spoke up, her voice tight and strained.

"But why? I mean — just a stupid little spat on the Hogwarts Express wouldn't be enough for this. Barely a quarrel. Sure, it was strange — Malfoy always sneers at Muggleborns and picks fights with Gryffindors, but he never went out of his way for us. He insulted us as a whole Grryfindor house but never is specifically. It felt forced, like he was trying to bait us."

She swallowed hard, feeling her throat burn.

"He insulted me. Harry told him off. That's it. He's done far worse to Neville and Ron for years — hexes, brawls, sabotage… and no one sent a pack of bloody werewolves after them."

Her voice cracked faintly at the end, but she forced herself steady, clinging to reason the way others might cling to faith.

Harry looked pale, his expression dark, and some of the color had drained from his knuckles where he gripped his wand.

Nova was already opening his mouth, a sharp remark poised on his tongue, some clever quip about people underestimating just how many enemies they had in a world run by petty old men and aristocratic bloodlines and maybe a hint here and there about Black heirship.

Maybe even a teasing jab about how some girls were too clever for their own good.

But before he could, a desperate sob broke the night's grim stillness.

Nova's gaze flicked toward the house just as the dark-haired woman — Hermione's mother — knelt beside her husband, hands trembling as she pressed a cloth to his bleeding head, her shoulders shaking.

x------x

CHAPTER:- [58- THE LONGEST NIGHT END'S] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON.

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