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After joining the Slytherin Quidditch team, George's days gradually became more peaceful. His routine consisted of regular scoring practice, studying and researching magic, frequent visits to the library to enhance his understanding of magic, and seeking advice from various teachers on magical topics.
Due to his exceptional skills, Snape allowed him to attend fewer Quidditch training sessions.
As time passed, George's knowledge of magic and his magical abilities rapidly improved. He had nearly mastered all the spells from his first year and began to study the material for the second year in advance.
Two months swiftly passed, and October arrived, bringing colder weather that left many young witches and wizards with colds.
Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey had concocted a tonic that, while causing smoke to come from one's ears for several hours after consumption, was effective at curing colds almost instantly.
George sat by the window in the library, quietly engrossed in a book as light rain fell outside. Occasionally, he noticed young witches glancing at him from time to time.
Thanks to Hogwarts' hearty meals over the past few months, he was no longer the frail figure he once was.
"It's time; you can all head back now,"
Mrs. Pince, the aging and thin librarian, announced as she stood up, addressing all the young witches and wizards still reading.
George glanced at the clock and saw it was already eight in the evening—time for the library to close.
He checked out the book he hadn't finished and left the library, planning to return to the Slytherin common room to continue reading.
Meanwhile, in the Marvel universe, it was eight in the morning, and George's real body was riding a motorcycle towards the Bronx.
Tony Stark had been kidnapped for nearly three months, and it wouldn't be long before he escaped. In that time, Leon had successfully transformed the Chevalier family into the Leon family.
Thus, their previous plans needed to be set in motion.
In fact, after the vehicle change and considering the meals over the past few months, Gabriella and Wolverine had spent most of their savings, so George genuinely needed to make money, especially since the kids were eager to attend school.
These children from the lab had been raised to become assassins, lacking any normal education or common knowledge.
Gabriella was just an ordinary nurse with limited education, while Isla was a driver without much formal schooling and was currently trying to learn to fly. Wolverine could teach combat and history, but not much else.
Caliban had turned to the black market due to his lack of education.
The most knowledgeable was Professor X, who graduated from Harvard at 16, attended Oxford and Columbia, and earned multiple PhDs in biology, psychology, and other fields.
However, his health was poor; he had to take medication frequently and spent most of his time in the cerebro to prevent sudden episodes.
On the rooftop of the former dance hall in the Bronx, George placed a regular letter on the ground, then waved his hands rapidly to cast a spell. Once the magical imprint was on the envelope, he picked it up to record his message.
Yes, he was crafting a Howler.
His daily library visits were not in vain; beyond studying magic, he had also spent time learning about alchemy—how to create magical items.
While he could not quickly master complex magical items like wands, broomsticks, enchanted cars, or enchanted keys, simpler creations like the Howler were much easier to handle.
After successfully creating a Howler, he attached a pin to it and quietly waited on the rooftop.
About half an hour later, a beaming Leon emerged from the dance hall, cigar in mouth, flanked by a group of lackeys as he climbed into a stretched Lincoln parked outside.
At that moment, George activated his power to control the pin, sending the Howler flying from the rooftop, slipping inside just as the car door was closing.
He had thought carefully about how to approach someone like Leon, who operated in the underground world. He decided to be cautious, at least until he could disregard modern firearms with his own strength.
Therefore, it was best to limit contact and maintain an air of mystery whenever possible.
The unknown is often the most frightening.
This way, even if Leon faced a threat in the future, as long as it wasn't lethal, he would likely refrain from betraying him.
Leon perceived George as too mysterious; once betrayed, he wouldn't know what terrible consequences awaited him. This added an extra layer of safety.
"A letter?"
Just as Leon was about to close the door, he noticed a letter sliding through the gap, landing on his lap, leaving him momentarily bewildered.
However, upon seeing the name on the envelope, his pupils dilated, and he quickly opened the door to look outside.
"Sir, what's wrong?"
One of the lackeys driving the car asked, puzzled.
Leon turned his head and glanced around, noticing that his lackeys surrounded him, with no one else in sight. He took a deep breath, settled back into the car, and instructed:
"It's nothing. You wait outside for me. I want some time alone in the car."
Although the driver didn't understand what was going on, he obediently got out of the vehicle.
Leon picked up the letter in his hand. The envelope bore only one word: "Grim Reaper!"
Over two months ago, he had nearly been killed, saved at the last moment by a mysterious figure known as the "Grim Reaper."
Now, he had finally cleared all obstacles, including the remnants led by Chevalier's son, Little Chevalier, effectively transforming the Chevalier family into the Leon family.
He had also become one of the most powerful thirteen figures in the Bronx underground.
However, the "Grim Reaper" had yet to reveal himself, which troubled Leon deeply.
On one hand, he genuinely wanted to express his gratitude for the life saved and repay the favor; on the other hand, he felt a great deal of apprehension regarding this mysterious individual capable of effortlessly eliminating Chevalier.
For that meant if the Grim Reaper wanted him dead, it would likely be just as easy.
This was one reason he always brought his lackeys along when he ventured out.
People are strange; when one is a lackey, they think little of such matters and aren't as afraid of death.
Yet when one rises to become the boss, occupying that lofty position, they start to ponder more and become increasingly fearful of death.
He picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. To his confusion, he found it empty, devoid of any letter.
But the very next second, his mouth dropped open in astonishment, frozen in place.
The envelope suddenly flew from his hand, hovering in the air, and transformed into a mouth that began to speak:
"Leon, come to the rooftop alone at midnight."
After delivering the message, the mouth bit itself into a pile of fragments that fell to the ground.
It took Leon a full ten seconds to process what had just happened. He then took a deep breath and murmured:
"What kind of being is this? Is he a god, or perhaps a demon from hell?"
At that moment, he recalled the wish he had made just before his near-death experience on the rooftop, and he couldn't help but shiver.
(End of Chapter)