"Where the devil have you been, boy!" a voice from the darkness growled. Vaan started at the voice, spinning wildly in place to find it. It was a futile gesture, the darkness of the warehouse complete, drowning out all light and sound. Even the raging storm had little effect, the roar of rain and thunder muted by the structure. But it was more than that, Vaan realized, it was the work of magic; the magic of his master.
"Lok Rovaan," the voice spoke again, in measured tones, "Tell me, where. Have. You. Been?"
"Don't use that tone with me, sir!" Vaan retorted in an injured voice, "I'm not some hapless child!"
Lightning flashed, the light illuminating the interior through the windows on the roof, and for a moment Vaan saw his beloved master for the first time in years. He was fully covered in that black robe of his, the deep cowl hiding his features completely. The robe moved, ever so slightly, as if gently caressed by some wind, though Vaan knew better: The numerous enchantments the master had laid upon the robe that caused it to move as it did, cackling with power from within.
The master harrumphed and he could hear the scuff of boots on the concrete. Without warning, he was gripped in a rough bear hug, his master lifting him off the ground. The two men began to laugh, a joyous laugh of finally being reunited after years of being separated. Finally, when they had their fill of laughs, the master put Vaan back down and held him at arms' length. The master was glowing, literally, lighting the immediate area around them, and his eyes were intently fixed on Vaan.
"Ah, but it is good to see you boy,"
"It is good to see you too, sir," Vaan replied with his own smirk, "Apologies for the lateness, the patrols have gotten heavier since the Ministry decided to step up their persecution,"
"True enough," the master agreed, his eyes taking on a wistful look, "Really wish they'd have stopped by now. By the way, this sound-proofing spell you weaved around this place is just masterful, wouldn't have thought you'd have it in you!" Vaan frowned and cocked his head, his mind suddenly set racing.
"Sir, I thought you set that up," Vaan saw the master's eyes narrow as soon as he said it, his senses extending throughout the warehouse and beyond it. Lightning flashed again, and the rain fell harder, their incessant pattering building slowly. Vaan quickly backed away from his master, drawing his energies about him like a cloak. The master spat out a curse and cut the glowing spell, throwing the interior of the warehouse back into darkness.
"Trap?" Vaan asked needlessly as the walls began to glow red, charged by destructive energies.
"Trap," the master agreed, and the next moment the world exploded.
/*************************/
About a mile away, two men stood upon a hill overlooking the harbour. They wore cloaks of their own, a deep rich purple that appeared black in the night. Rows of warehouses were lined up, ready and waiting for cargo that would never arrive. The nearby port had been closed for decades, made obsolete by new trading routes, and most of the remaining area lay decrepit with the lack of maintenance. The local populace steered clear of the place, as it was often the hangout for gangs and vagabonds.
"Well," one of the cloaked figures said sheepishly, "I didn't quite mean for it to explode like that," The warehouse had detonated with incredible force, effectively destroying the two rogue wizards within, the fires leaping hundreds of feet in the air and visible for miles around. Chunks of flaming debris fell back to the harbour, crashing into various warehouses and spreading the devastation.
"Yeah, that's the last time I let you handle an assassination, Ron," the other wizard sighed, clearly exasperated, "Honestly, a simple implosion would have sufficed. Now we have to send for back-up to wipe the memories of the muggles in this area,"
"Well, it's not my fault!" Ron shot back, "Should I remind you why we had to go through all this trouble just to hunt these fugitives down in the first place, Harry?"
"Turbo-charging the walls of a warehouse with an explosive spell is not 'subtle', Ron," Harry calmly explained.
"Certainly," a third voice chipped from behind them, "A simple implosion would have worked marvellously," At the voice, both wizards spun and raised their wands, the tips of the rods glowing slightly as they gathered magic to strike. The one who had spoken was cloaked, the cowl of his robe obscuring his face, but there was no mistaking this was their fugitive. At his feet was the other fugitive, stirring slightly in discomfort.
"Ah, the ministry sends boys to hunt us now," sadness tinged his voice, "I had hoped this persecution was a dying trend,"
What's he going on about? Ron asked Harry, using a telepathic spell to communicate, He's completely bonkers!
Bonkers or not, he's a wanted criminal, Harry responded grimly, aloud he said, "Sir, raise your hands slowly and put them behind your head. Make one move we don't like an-"
"You just tried to kill me," the man replied incredulously, "And now you want to arrest me? Did you flunk your auror training or something?"
"We were given orders to kill you, but I'd really rather avoid that now. If we capture you, we could find out where the rest of the fugitives are," Harry reasoned, "Now, put your hands behind your head. Please," he added as an afterthought.
"Well, that's certainly kind, and pragmatic of you," the man mocked, his hands moving beneath the cloak, "I'm afraid I have to refuse your polite request!" Sensing something was amiss, both Harry and Ron quickly cast their disarming spells at the man, the twin red orbs lighting the hill as the spells raced towards the man. The spells struck and ricocheted off the man's robes, flying off uselessly into the night sky. The man withdrew his hands from his robes, casually lifting them at the two aurors. They launched another pair of spells, which were deflected yet again by his ever-shifting robe.
"Now, boys," the man spat the last word with contempt, "Let me show you why they want us dead!" And his hands flicked out, sending forth an unseen blast of force.
The two aurors dropped into a defensive stance, they muttered Protego, their defensive energies channelled perfectly, their concentration unwavering. Their defence was absolutely perfect.
It was all that saved their skins.
The spell struck with the magnitude of a speeding train, throwing both men off the hill and down to the flaming industrial buildings below, the flames leaping eagerly to meet them. Both aurors spun in the air, taking control of their fall, drawing breath to cast their own spells to save themselves.
"An impressive defence," Harry and Ron snapped their gazes towards the night sky, staring in horror at the man who had been on the hilltop just a moment ago. He was standing in mid-air, as casually as one might stand on a street.
He has no wand! Ron thought, horrified, How the bloody hell is he casting magic without a wand?!
"Now, children, goodnight!"
Harry snarled, "Stupefy!" unleashing a bolt of crimson at the man, while Ron called out his own curse, an orb of lightning streaking towards him. The man laughed and raised his hands again, throwing yet another wall of force at the wizards. The wall met the spells in a thunderclap, and the explosion of energy knocked both men unconscious as they tumbled to the flaming warehouses below.