The dozen of small shapes gathered at the orphanage main room. The morning was cold, but the orphans didn't prepare the table. They waited for the last member to descend. The matron leaned on the closed windows, admiring the mist dissipating with the sunlight. The only other girl in the building stood a few feet behind the adult, hands put on the furniture corner, crisped.
The group listened to the squeaking footsteps. Different generations of orphans stood behind the not so fat Samael. He was their spokesman. Tattered clothes oscillated. The door opened. The orphans' leader faced black orbs coming this way. His throat was dry, he didn't want to be there. He wanted to run away, but, behind the spokesman the others counted on him and, Lucy was watching his every action.
Coughing a bit to not falter, the orphan focused his sight on the long black hair instead of the cold eyes. " I, I mean we, we don't want you, in this place anymore. This is our home, not your. Leave. ", gathering all his courage, the boy stepped forward. A quick glance told him that the girl was paying attention. Still not meeting the other gaze, trembling arms pointed toward the building exit.
Another orphan, emboldened by the group presence, took a step forth. " I can't stand your face. We can't stand your face ! Get out ! ", the younger orphan hid behind Samael when the other side glanced at him. That high pitch voice belonged to a chestnut famished face. It always screamed in fear each time he perceived Mikhael's sight, especially since last summer. This coward, remembered the wizard, had designated another child when the matron went into the dormitory to punish the one who had screamed at that time of the night.
" Out, out, out ! ", the Smith brothers had rejoined the party. While those sons of the farmer weren't part of the orphan community, they hanged around with Samael now. Both wore wood crosses on their necks. Charles initiated the motion of pointing toward the exit with his head and the younger brother, Frederic mimicked wit a faster rhythm.
As silence was the only response, an older orphan added his salt. " Did you hear us ? Leave, you frea... ", the newcomer didn't have the time to finish his word when a fist impacted his insulting cheek. No one saw what happened. The newcomer was not at his place anymore, instead, there stood the one they wanted to get rid of. The building shook after a short shriek piercing all inhabitant's ears.
Mikhael cursed. He didn't control himself properly. He wasn't a freak. His brother was, not him. The not moving kid tainted the floor with redness. For a moment the body was the one of another child, with black hair and frailer frame. The wizard didn't want to do magic in this place, but the situation was grave. Even without the trace on his wand, the ministry could have set something to oversee the building for any magical ripple.
Turning around, all the witness were petrified with terror.
The forest clearing held a strange spectacle. Inside the warding stone perimeter, unconscious children and a woman formed a pile of bodies on a heavy table. It was hard for the green robe to control his strength, to not break their neck in the orphanage. Without the use of magic, the wizard relied on the dinner table to transport all his victims. Luck was with him as no witness nor visitor came while he executed his task.
All the bodies were put under stunner, disillusionment and a security Incarcerous Spell. While they were incapacitated, the wizard sprinted back to the orphanage. At the death wall, blood was still warm. With paper towel and water, the place was cleaned of any evidence. An owl tapped at the windows when the youth was cleaning the stain on his robe. The bird delivered a letter before leaving without asking for food.
Mikhael read and put the letter in his trunk. The orphan hurried back to his training place. None of the humans were awoken at his arrival. He breathed out. Summoning a third eye to keep watch, the wizard started training with invisible fire spheres and conjured weapons rotating around him at different speeds on multiple trajectories. Levitating the first body, the second-year disillusioned himself in case of the worst scenario. Modifying the memories of the accident into a new one where the dead child ran away a week earlier and removing some other parts, was something the wizard regretted not doing to the school elves. For those creatures, it was too late for the past but not for the future.
Confused, the orphanage inhabitants woke up a second time in their bed. Collective headache distracted them from the missing presence of two members. Samael remembered the one guy that ran away the last week, but more importantly, he had the desire to go to London and steal some breads. Many didn't feel different from usual, even if they had new goals in life and ignored the presence of the black hair orphan.
Walking in the empty streets of London, the disillusioned wizard stopped at the 25 Charing Cross Rd, Charing Cross. The night shift was relaxed, the only visible security agent patrolled the building was resolving some words games in his newspaper. The man in his twenty didn't move when the transparent entrance dissipated for a second. With a tired yawn, the guard turned his page.
The wizard checked on the patrolling groups. Inside the corridor, ten men were checking every inch with their torchlight. They moved by duo and circled the building levels in minutes. The intruder floated without any interruption. No ministry security agents were in this place nor any magical security protected the heavy metallic door. Last year, he acted with fear and his stealing in houses rose suspicion toward his identity which alerted the magical corps.
The many packs of bills were shrunken to fit his pocket. Done with his objective, the wizard exited the building and moved toward his second target at 227 Tottenham Court Rd, Bloomsbury. Repeating his previous actions, in a single night the orphan made a dozen raids. In the future, he couldn't continue as his pattern was clear as day now. It happened every summer, there would be security measures put in place. He needed to find another way, but none of the underage work paid well.
Wearing a glamor, the green robe went to the wizard bank to exchange for the 585'000 Pounds Sterling he accumulated. To not raised suspicion, the wizard came many times with different faces and clothes at different schedules for different amounts of money. Converted to Galleons, the orphan should have gotten an amount reaching 118'661 but obtained 117'474 as the exchange rate of 4.93 £ for a Galleon was taxed for one per hundred. The loss reached a bit more than a thousand which was the same amount he received for the wrong he suffered.
Two weeks had passed when the last penny was converted. Paying for the school remaining years, the wizard removed 43'915 Galleons for his third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years education tuition fee and he added an extra of ten thousand for the school charity fund as an anonymous donor at a different meeting. The school money problem was done. With the remaining fund around seventy-six thousand, the orphan could live without trouble for a good amount of time.
Some posters in both magical alleys showed a familiar face. The green robe crumbled the poster, he knew the truth behind this man's actions but there was no benefit from helping his case. Shady shops with sinister clients could provide many services like magical tattoo or exotic goods, but phoenix tears were rare. The orphan demanded for this article which wasn't easy to obtain. Neither The Coffin House nor Mr.Mulpepper's Apothecary had the product in stock. However, the apothecary could get it in days time for a fair price.
Hidden from prying eyes, the forest deep wood muffled sound of suffering. Mouses underwent a specific ritual handmade for a weaker version of the basilisk death stare. For weeks, the ritual adept bred small new basilisks with chicken eggs covered by stuck toad until the hatching. In order to prevent any accident, the cage holding the eggs were put under the ground in a dark place and checked only with the shroud of darkness activated.
Even small, those snake creatures were dangerous. Contained by darkness, they couldn't resist and were hit true by the killing curse. The perfect corpses were harvested of their eyes for the ritual and the rest for future resources. The wizard knew it was an illegal activity, but it didn't stop him. It would be a great advantage for him to either kill or paralyze with just a glance.
Many mouses were used for the testing phase. Under the ritual circle, they were imbued with the serpent blood and runes were engraved on their eyes as well as the basilisk ones. Weaker substances for healing and magical object for concentration were offered as sacrificial ingredients for the ritual stability. Many didn't stay alive. The burden was too much or the eyes and blood weren't compatible.
Many errors helped the ritual adept to perfect his ritual for the mouse. To test the new ability, he floated the rodent in a cage with other mouses. The one that underwent the ritual was bound to face the other animal. After both, the target and the resulted mouses were in position, the darkness let place to light. After some time, confirming either the death or life with a modified presence revealing spell, the wizard continued his experimentation with different animals, not willing to undergo the dangerous ritual without the certainty of success.
The normal next step should have been humans and magical humans, but such resources were hard to get. The normal one wasn't a real problem as they were so many, but a wizard or witch was something else. No one was really separated from other of the magical community. Either way they had family, friends or colleagues. The disappearance of the victim would be noticed and notified to the ministry.
Another trip to the ministry archive was require to find target matching the best case of social isolation.
After finding his targets, the ritual adept modified the different registers to add a date of death for the old wizards and witches he selected. Forcing his will on the victim, the ritual experiment processed with new results. Thankfully the new eyes power would be adjusted and the bearer was immune to its effect. When two successful experiments stared at each other they didn't die even if one of them activated his ability to its maximal strength. It was a success, but he wasn't happy. He had so much blood on his hands. Only after accomplishing his objectives he would feel better, giving a meaning to those sacrifices. For her dream, he was getting closer.
Letter of Europe country travel lifted the ritual adept mood, especially when the hunt for strange creatures resulted in particular situations with the local authorities. Picking up paper, the orphan never stopped corresponding, exchanging some news on his side with inquiries and recommendations on the girl adventures. Sometimes he would also add some evasive questions on legends about the wizard prison or golden artifacts. Either way, the new creatures were interesting and he took some notes, like maggots that could eat the wizard summoning them after a failed charm.
Fetching the Philosopher Stone in his vault, the ritual adept prepared all the ingredients he needed and runes he had to engrave. Naked, covered in basilisk's blood he had slain the ritual adept prepared himself for the worst part. One fang of the serpent floated in the air, in front of the wizard eyes while the magical third one observed from another point of view. With telekinesis the orphan moved the sharp weapon to engrave the necessaries runes on his eyes balls. The pain couldn't be appeased nor the body could be under any magic for carving.
Fire burned his eyes. He couldn't stop midway. He had to endure. He couldn't increase the speed, the risk of messing the rune was too great. It was easier to make it with his experimental subjects. His left eyes was done. He couldn't see from this side. The pain persisted even if it was his other eye which was branded. He wanted to stop. It was too long. It was painful.
The ritual adept breathed deeply. Cold sweats pearled from all his pores. He had blood in his mouth. He couldn't see with his natural eyes. The next step relied on the Philosopher Stone as a magical concentration to help the merging of his eyes with the basilisk property and the phoenix tears to heal it back to full health. Magic gathered at the stone. The reddish aspect dimmed. It shouldn't happen. The stone broke. The orphan screamed.
When he woke up, darkness greeted him. The orphan patted the ground around him. The cold and watered grass told him where he was. Breathing five seconds in then seven out for six circles, the ritual adept concentrated his magic and summoned his third eye. Hundreds of fire spheres reduced the forest trees to ashes. It failed. The stone shouldn't have broken. That legendary alchemical substance was top-level ingredient to gather magic as it could in theory either turn metal to gold and generated life elixir.
For months the wizard had no success with the stone, but now it was clear. He was fated to fail, no matter what method he used with it. The alchemist had tricked everyone. A tree trunk was pierced by the orphan's fist. Nicolas Flamel gave a fake to the headmaster. Eyelids closed, the wizard gathered his materials, he would need them for another round. He couldn't get the hundred old creature's eyes anymore. They were consumed by the ritual. Thankfully for the phoenix tears, no grave damages were done to the wizard body.
Covering his head with fabric, the youth spent the day resting. The ritual backlash had depleted almost all his magic reserve and it took a good chunk of his energy. He wanted to slap himself for not considering the stone condition. How could the alchemist lent his most precious possession without any safeguard, thought the ritual adept. The old relic of the past should have known how impact-full was his creation. It should have been either destroyed or hidden somewhere unknown to anyone.
Another thousand Galleon went down for a vial of the immortal' tears and hundreds for the strongest concentrating stone. Rituals were expensive. It was necessary for the best result, without the phoenix tears, he could have died. This time, he could skip the part to engrave his eyes since they were ready. Like the experiment he made before, the way it went was successful. He could see. He had a death stare that could also petrify or paralyze.
Blood was vomited. The ritual adept understood. It was signs of his body. He was at his limit. He could, maybe undergo another ritual but it wouldn't be safe. He could explode or sustain permanent deformations. He had to stop any new ritual for his body enchanting. It was a bad new. He wanted to fix his endurance or vitality next. The orphan concentrated his sight on a group of mutated mouses. They didn't die. He survived. All his remaining test subjects were turned to ashes. No proofs were left.
A school owl circled the forest, unable to find its target before waiting on the orphanage roof.