Shout at the Devil

by MalcolmTent6730

Magic wasn't real. That's what Ryan Black was told for most of his life. It was a truth he believed until about a week after his eighteenth birthday, when he was contacted by his dead dad's estate about his own. Being born a squib he had no reason to be informed, except for a small gift his old man left him. Evil pieces in Harry Potter. AU Hogwarts University. Eventual OC-Multi,

32. Chapter 32

January 9th, 2012, Chastel Manor, Paris, France, 6:00 PM BST

"Alright." I asked as we pulled up outside the manor. "Everyone good?" Genevieve, Daphne, Suzie, and Val all nodded. My Queen had been requisitioned for this particular job because of both her investigative experience and necromantic aptitude. She'd been working hard to try to engineer a method for detecting Horcruxes, but was still fine tuning the process, and between that and babysitting duty she was glad for the time in the field.

"I'm ready." Said Val as she stared up at the manor. "Though I'm not sure why you brought me along. Why would they be using necromancy here. Chastel is a werewolf, right?"

I nodded, climbing out of the Rolls and offering Genevieve my arm to help her out. "Yeah." I said as I helped the rest of the girls out of the car. "But you're the strongest and best trained operative I have. The girls are going to be in Queen mode too, but they don't have your combat experience. As for necromancy, just let me know if Chastel has traces on him."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh. You want to know how recently he saw Voldemort. If he sees him regularly he could be close by or we could follow him to his boss."

"Exactly." I said with a nod. Then turned to Geneveive. "As for you, we could use a download on who the players are. We ARE technically supposed to be making nice with the French ministry while we're here. Our source said anyone who was anyone would be here, does that include the wizards? Also WHY is everyone here if Chastel is such a bastard?"

She grimaced. "Jean Chastel is…complicated. He's very old and very powerful. He tends to keep his more brutal excesses to the countryside and away from major cities. He himself avoids them mostly, but when he visits he keeps his temper or disposes of his victims, no one is quite sure which. That said, he is very old, and knows many secrets and many people with which to share them."

"I can buy that." I said with a sigh. "So people show up because if they didn't it might be their secrets he shares?"

"Essentially." She said with a shrug. "Though they also hope to be the ones the secrets are shared with. The ministry treats Chastel…cautiously. Real werewolves, powerful alphas, are as dangerous in their own way as old vampires. The ministries like to pretend wizards rule over non-humans, but they're always clear on who is and is not a threat."

We stopped talking as we approached a large, barrel chested man in a suit. Very large. He looked out of place in the formal wear, with a craggy face, sloping forehead, and small eyes. The overall effect was that someone had shaved a gorilla and dressed it in a tuxedo. "Invitation." He rumbled.

Genevieve held out a small card, and the big man squinted at it. With his small eyes narrowed, he looked like one of those button eyed people from Coraline. Finally, he handed it back, nodding us inside.

The interior was…weird. I'd expected resplendent french decorations. Gold and white and shit. But Chastels place was all red and black. It looked sinful and depraved somehow. Like we were standing in a beating heart. Or a bordello.

"Werewolves." Sneered Genevieve. "All the subtlety of an enraged rhinoceros." We followed the noise to a ballroom, where any number of people were dancing, and Genevieve pulled us to the side so more could come in as she scoped out the crowd. I spotted at least one familiar face. Or rather, two. Gabi and her sister.

I pointed them out. "What do you know about them?" I asked her quietly.

She glanced over, her expression souring. "Veela." She said bluntly. "Well, part veela. But there are no male veela, so it's dominant. Any veela is a veela. The Delacours are an old blood french family. Appoline, the current matriarch, is a veela by way of her mother, Seline."

I spotted another woman by Fleur, an even bustier more sinful version of the veela girl. Like someone took all that unbearable sex appeal, and added MILF. "You don't seem like a fan?"

"Veela have fire abilities." She said with a shrug. "Between that and the allure there's a lor of competition between them and vampires. Werewolves love them though. Feathered sluts love to fuck, and you'll never meet a fleabag who doesn't want to rut."

I raised an eyebrow at her, because that animosity seemed out of character. She seemed to catch it, grimacing and shaking her head. "Apologies. Veela…they're creatures of excess. They bring out the hunger in others, whatever kind of hunger that may be. For werewolves it's sexual, much like humans, but for us…"

"Bloodlust." I said with a nod. "I get that. Their allure feels…dark, to me." I shook off the pang of almost violent lust as I looked at the matriarch of the Delacour family. I needed to check the Spells of Astaroth for some kind of protection spell against mental influence. I was betting it had one, assuming I got the half that such a spell was included in. "Now, why don't you point out some of the important people."

She nodded. "Conrad Bonaparte." She said, gesturing to a skeletal looking man with close cropped hair. "Dark wizard, and one of the nastier members of the french ministry. Hates muggles, and was a known sympathizer of Grindelwald and Mevolent during the war. And that's Jean-Luc Baptiste, one of the more vicious vampires in the city."

Her eyebrows went up as she took on a stately looking couple. "Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. I do so wonder what Chastel did to get them here. They're basically royalty in this country, and they mostly keep to themselves."

My eyes narrowed as I noticed a small group of men who were engaged in a heated conversation. "How about them?"

"Antonin Dolohov." She said as she gestured to a big brutish man. "Macnair. Augustus Rookwood. Brits, for the most part. Though Macnair's family is old world French. There are a few families like that. Ones who bridge the gap. The Malfoys, for instance."

I grimaced, thinking of my idiot cousin. He'd been…weird, after he woke up. Jumpy.

Val grimaced. "Sirius says Dolohov is a Death Eater for sure. Macnair probably is. The Blacks have a Chateau in southern France and the Macnairs are neighbors. That's enough for Sirius to think they're shady. The Chateau is really nice though. It's got a gorgeous pool. Sirius took me there for a weekend."

"Huh. I'll have to talk to him about borrowing that place." I said after a moment. "Seems like it might make for a nice vacation spot. Val, keep an eye out for necromancy. Wish we'd brought Remus to track the girl's scent. We'll have to look around ourselves at this rate."

"It's good you didn't." Said Genevieve. "Werewolves are territorial. Another wolf intruding on Chastel's territory, even as an ostensible party guest, is the fastest way to get his attention. How are you planning to slip away?"

I grinned at her. "Daphne, Suzie. Do me a favor and go have a dance. Make sure you get eyes on you."

My girls were devils, and dressed in slinky silk dresses to boot. Both of them were gorgeous, and watching them grind on each other was bound to draw the attention of any red blooded man here, and most of the women.

I shot a look at Val, mentally telling her to watch out for them, and she nodded. Once they left, I winked at Genevieve. "I'll give it a few minutes. That should be plenty distracting once they get into the groove. After that-"

"Excuse me." Interrupted an urbane voice. "Might I speak to you for a moment?"

Turning, I was about to shut whoever it was down…but I froze. Nicholas Flamel, inventor of the philosophers stone I had at my house, was standing in front of me, clear blue eyes pinning me in place.

Saying my goodbyes to Genevieve, I left her with Val, following Flamel out of the ballroom and into a side hallways. "What can I help you with?"

"Well you see." He said after we stopped. "I find myself intrigued. I sense a very familiar aura on you. One that I haven't felt on many people."

I froze. For a split second I thought he sensed that I was a devil. Flamel was old as hell, and had coincided with more than a few famous demonologists. I wasn't a demon, but there may be some superficial similarities…until I remembered what was in my pouch. The Elixir. I always carried some now, just in case.

For a second, I debated what to do, but eventually I decided that if he could sense the elixir that finely, I had no hope of pulling one over on him. "So what do you want to do about it?"

He let out a bark of laughter. "Smart boy. Consider the options and toss all the ones that don't work for you. Admitting it is the best course of action here. But what will you do if I decide to take it back by force, I wonder?"

I flicked a finger, Asclepius winding into existence and circling the ancient alchemist. "I'm a persuasive guy." I said calmly. "I can talk you out of it."

He stared at the snake intently. "How fascinating. An adapted version of the Aqua Eructo charm. High PH balance, and…heavy water? Ingenious." He reached up to touch it, and I was about to warn him off when his finger came into contact with the snake. Instead of melting off his hand though, there was a wash of power and the snake just…dissolved. It fell to the ground in a splatter of pure water, and the floor wasn't even sizzling.

Slipping out a wand, he vanished the water. "An intriguing young man." He complimented me. "That sort of creativity should be lauded. But states of matter are something of a fascination of mine, specifically changing them."

"Look." I said bluntly. "I get you have reason to be annoyed. I took your stone. But I don't have it on me and I don't have time for a pissing match. Can we please do this later?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I had noticed your urgency. Here to pilfer something from the Beast, perhaps? I can't say it wouldn't be deserved. I might even be inspired to come to your aid. I quite detest the creature."

"Then why are you here at all?" I asked in exasperation.

He shrugged. "When a rabid animal is loose in one's backyard, it is best to keep an eye on the beast. Chastel has enough friends to make eliminating him an irritation, and Perenelle and I usually try to stay out of worldly affairs. Our presence here should be enough deterrent to keep him from acting up too much."
I snorted. I waffled for a second, figuring out what to do, but eventually…I decided to tell him my reasons for being here. This guy was a friend of Dumbledore, and Genevieve said they were considered mostly good folks. Maybe they could help.

So I told him about the girls, about Voldemort, and about our mission here. His expression, formerly relaxed, became cold as he heard my tale.

"Well." He said sharply. "In that case, I think I may join you on your explorations. I'd quite like to see what the Beast is hiding in this estate. If he's truly experimenting on captive young women, it needs to stop. No animal will get away with attacking citizens of my city."

I nodded grudgingly. I was a bit wary of teaming up, but Flamel was strong. It would be either a team up or make him a potential enemy, and I had enough of those here. For now, we'd play Hardy Boys. If he decided to turn on me…well, I'd be ready, and I had backup nearby. Whatever he thought about me, Nicholas Flamel had better be careful. You don't dance with the devil unless you want to get burned.

January 9th, 2012, Chastel Manor, Paris, France, 7:00 PM BST

We crept away from the party, heading deeper into the building. Well…not crept. Crept made me imagine sticking to the wall and humming the mission impossible theme like Kronk from Emperors New Groove. We mostly just walked like normal people.

I DID use the muggle repelling charm again, with the intent cranked up so it would work on anyone who wasn't a devil. Or mostly anyone. Flamel just looked mildly surprised when I cast it, which was pretty damned impressive. Still, we made pretty good time, and searched most of the first floor before coming upon something…suspicious.

"So I'm not crazy right?" I asked Flamel bluntly. "There's a giant iron door covered with runes set into the floor right here? Because I feel like they should have at least set a guard or something."

He shook his head. "It's warded. Mental compulsion. I'm surprised you can even see through it. There's more though, the defenses on the door are…substantial. Touching it would be ill advised."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Gotcha. Here, back up." I walked down the hall, stepping around a corner, I called Asclepius, then, using a mirror I had in my pouch, I looked around the corner and sent the acidic snake spell towards the door. I stopped it about a foot away, focused on what I wanted it to do, and then SLAMMED my will into the construct."

Flamel's eyes widened as he realized my plan, and he waved a hand, stomping his foot at the same time. A blue flash coalesced into a wall at the end of the hall, and a yellow brown wave like ripples in a pond spread from his foot.

I wasn't sure what he was doing until Asclepius actually hit…and then I realized I'd underestimated the feedback.

With a snarl of pain, I gripped my head as the wards tore my construct apart in an explosion of force, splattering acidic heavy water across the walls and ceiling. Flamel's spells stopped the sound and vibrations from spreading out of the hall, but between the feedback and the dust cloud I could easily tell what I'd almost set off in the open.

He turned to raise a brow at me. "I applaud the enthusiasm, young man, but perhaps you might share your plans before executing them?"

"Yeah." I said sheepishly. "Sorry. That should have taken care of the wards though, right?"

He narrowed his eyes at the dust cloud, but eventually nodded. "It did. I must say it's an ingenious way to circumvent them. Any normal attack spell would have been shredded, but due to the corrosive nature of the liquid, blowing it apart just spread the damage around."

I winced. "Kind of hope I didn't bring down the ceiling in there. It hit the walls all over too."

"Amusingly, I suspect the absurdly corrosive nature of the attack minimized the damage." He said with a laugh. "There are several dozen very small holes in the walls, because the drywall and wood couldn't even slightly resist. It lowered the collateral damage done to the surrounding areas."

He snapped once, and the blue wall spell swept down the hall like a net, when it hit the dust it warped and bent, and in a split second there was a floating ball of air and dust in the center of the hall, restoring full visibility.

"Holy shit." I goggled. "I want to be you when I grow up." That kind of pinpoint control of an already active spell was staggering. Then again, this was a guy who was so brilliant he managed to invent an immortality elixir people had been trying to make for millennia, and that was BEFORE he lived for several hundred years longer than most people.

His grin was fierce. "Eat plenty of fiber." He snapped and the sphere dissipated. We walked over to the door, and I grinned in satisfaction at the twisted and warped metal. He looked it over casually. "As I thought. Quite effective."

"Your eyes are better than mine." I said, glancing down into the hole behind the door. "Do you see any magical traps or whatever?" The door was set diagonally into the wall and floor like a cellar, and a set of stone steps led down from it into the depths of the estate. I could see every detail in the stairway, obviously, but I didn't have the magic sight Flamel apparently did.

He squinted into the dark. "I can see a few detection charms, but nothing too complex." He flicked his fingers, and a few hair-thin cutting curses flicked out. I saw small sparks in the air where they made contact with the charms.

Once he gave the all clear, I began my descent, taking the lead because of my more powerful body. Ageless or not, Flamel was no devil. He didn't have the raw physical power I did. When I reached the bottom of the steps, I stopped to look around, trying to see where we should be going.

My instincts kicked in again, pushing me firmly to the left, and I gestured for him to follow me. As I stopped at the end of the hall, I raised a finger to my lips as I heard voices. Familiar voices.

"The methodology is sloppy." Murmured an irritated man. "He doesn't double check results, and he goes off on tangents for seemingly no reason but sadism. Pain has its place, but not in the laboratory." It took me a second to place him, but I got it. Bermuda. The necromancer from the tattoo shop.

Another familiar voice, this one belonging to Jager. "We shouldn't be working with him. He's a lunatic."

"But quite brilliant." Countered Bermuda. "I hadn't even considered the possibility of inscribing a true name on a sealed soul container. He isn't quite there yet, but when he's finished…wand magic has its uses. If all of our initiates can use two disciplines we'd have a massive advantage over any of the other magical factions. Not to mention the Deathbringer-"

Jager snorted. "That girl is no Deathbringer. She lacks the power, and even if she had it, she doesn't know her pla-" The ringing sound of a sharp slap filled the tunnel we were in.

"You will watch your tongue." Said Bermuda coldly. "Or I will carve it from your mouth. Acceptance or not, She is not for you to question." I was shocked by that, to be honest, Val was obviously the person they were talking about, but it was weird he was so protective when she didn't give a shit about them.

"Apologies, master." Said the larger man after a slight pause. "I let my emotions get the better of me. It will not happen again."

Bermuda sighed. "See that it does not. You're lucky that wasn't said in front of witnesses from the temple, or I'd have had to sew your mouth shut for a century in penance. Blasphemy will not be tolerated."

I glanced at Flamel, whose eyes were hard and angry. Apparently he knew them, and I saw his fingers spark with magic as he suppressed the urge to attack. In the end, patience won out, and we kept listening.

"Why would he leave you alone with his subjects, master?" Asked Jager deferentially. "Is he not afraid you will surpass the need for him and eliminate him once and for all?"

That got a chuckle from the smaller necromancer. "Aside from being quite mad, he's also very arrogant. But more importantly, he's been heavily damaged by his own halfhearted necromancy. As is the body, so is the soul, as they say. Riddle's soul is a pathetic, mutilated thing, and his mortal form breaks down simply from hosting it. He can't afford to be at such a public function."

I cursed internally. Voldemort wasn't here. But his research was, which meant the witches taken were most likely here.

Part of me wanted to listen more, but I couldn't bear to let those girls suffer for one more minute if any of them were still alive. That thing about sadism was stuck in my head. I nodded to Flamel, and he returned the gesture stonily.

Stepping around the corner, I hurled out a hand and Asclepius manifested midair, streaking toward Jager like a massive snake missile.

The giant of a man simple stepped back into the embrace of the dark, appearing next to me and lashing out with a colossal fist at my skull. I snorted, ducking under the blow and hammering a combination of light, fast punches into his ribs.

"Black!" Yelled Flamel, and I dove backwards on instinct. I was glad I had because a pillar of dark fire consumed the spot I'd been standing. I wasn't sure what it WAS, but it was obviously very dangerous.

Bermuda clicked his tongue. "Irritating insect, aren't you. Or did you assume that I was incapable of harming you because I played nice in front of the Deathbringer."

"You're incapable of harming him because I am here, Vechtenstein." Flamel said coldly. "I didn't think you would be cruel enough to enact the Brule Noir upon a child. It is a mistake I will not make a second time."

He shrugged. "What is it the Americans say these days? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes? He's involved himself in affairs beyond his grasp. Poisoning the mind of the Deathbringer against her faithful. Seeking to CONTROL her as if she is his servant. Death is too good for one such as him."

"I mean…ok?" I said slowly. "I'm not super stoked to die, so I don't mind death being too good for me. But why do you make it sound like that fire would be way worse."

Beneath the hood, I saw a gleam of white teeth. Some effect of his magic rendered his face invisible to me despite my dark vision, but the teeth were still visible. Like the Cheshire cat. "Because, child. The Brule Noir does not burn the flesh. It burns the SOUL." He threw out a hand, and I saw a spark of dark fire light beneath my feet.

Flamel roared in outrage and then…the whole chamber attacked the necromancer. Walls flowed like water, furniture reconstituted itself. I'd thought Dumbledore was a master of transfiguration, but he didn't have a tithe on Flamel. The immortal alchemist flexed his will, and the world answered his call, changing beneath his terrible intent.

Sadly, as fast as he was, Bermuda had caught him by surprise, attacking mid monologue. A wellspring of dark flame erupted beneath me, and I braced myself for the pain as I scrambled for a way to resist…but nothing came.

I stood there in the black fire, looking around in confusion, waiting for the agony to begin. Nothing happened. Nothing. More nothing. Son of nothing. Nothing and Abbott and Costello meet the wolfman.

The titanic battle between the two old monsters stopped as they turned to stare at me in confusion. Flamel looked delighted, but Bermuda's Cheshire smile was long gone. "Impossible." Snarled the necromancer. "Your soul should be immolating for eternity as your mind breaks down from the agony."

Rather than respond, I sent another snake at Jager, who reacted too slow, getting an arm up barely in time to save his head. He roared as his unnatural flesh began to boil off his bones (albeit slower than I would have liked). Flamel took the distraction as an opportunity to assault the necromancer.

As Jager tried to get rid of the acid serpent, I shot my gaze around the room. I saw cages, vivisection tables, and not a few corpses. But not all of the girls were dead. I flicked out a hand, circles opening beneath all the living ones, including one on a table, and they all vanished.

Mom would take care of them with the elixir. As the circles closed, there was a crash and the floor quaked, and above us, something began to howl. Well, looked like the host noticed we were missing. That was all I had time to think as Jager attacked, and the fight was on.

January 9th, 2012, Chastel Manor, Paris, France, 8:00 PM BST

The giant of a man with the bandage covered face roared as he blurred towards me. Below the bandages I could see snakes of dark energy worming their way through discolored flesh. Whatever he'd just done, it had really upped his power output. He came at me like a wrecking ball, ready to tear me apart.

Or at least, he thought he was ready. I'd been sparring with Val lately, and while I wasn't a world class martial arts master like she was yet, I'd picked up a trick or two.

One of my favorite martial arts tricks was a weird stance that Val had shown me. My front foot stuck out before me at an odd angle, planted parallel to my and my opponents bodies. As Jager rushed me, I pivoted on that foot, letting my unnaturally twisted ankle carry my whole body around and to the side.

Jager rushed right past me, tripping over my still outstretched ankle, and I took the disruption in his footing as an opportunity to slip up behind him and lock the bastard in a full nelson.

As I'd suspected, whatever weird necromancy powerup had been used had made Jager stronger than I was…which did him exactly no good in this position, because he had zero leverage. He thrashed and snarled, trying to overpower me, but couldn't manage. I just grinned, summoning a tiny Asclepius and wrapping it around his head.

Jager was quite a bit taller than I was, so my face was actually about level with the middle of his back, and the rope of acidic water went right over my head as it wrapped his skull and started to burn off bandage and flesh alike.

Letting out a gargling roar through the water, the bigger man smashed his feet down on the ground hard, shoving off the rock floor of the cavern and propelling us straight up, into and through the floor of the ballroom above. I hadn't even realized we were under the ballroom, but it became clear as we erupted through the marble floor and continued up, smashing into the ceiling.

"Ryan!" I heard both my girls and Val call in unison. I desperately wanted to pop my wings because Jager would be FUCKED without his feet on the ground, but sadly, I couldn't reveal my devilish nature in front of this many humans.

I levered off the ceiling with my legs, wandlessly casting a levitation charm, which while not as good as flying did the same job.

The bandaged giant was thrashing and screaming, but whatever he was made of was tougher than normal people meat, because the face was burning off way slower than it should have. His arm was even still on his body, even if it was a melted mess of exposed muscle.

"Watch out for the necromancer!" I bellowed to Val. "He's the same one we met at the tattoo parlor, and he has some kind of soul burning fire."

Not that he would use it on her, but my other girls would have heard that too. I was just being cautious, because I was almost positive that the black flame wouldn't work on them. It hadn't worked on me, and the only reason I could come up with for that was my devilish nature.

Devils DID have souls, but they weren't normal. Our souls were part of our bodies, which was why when devils died they just kind of ceased to be. I'd read in the booklet that there WERE methods to send a devil soul to the afterlife, but they were mainly powerful exorcisms and other niche methods I wasn't going to run into here.

I was feeling pretty good about myself…until I got a quick flash of instinctual warning. I crushed, letting Jager go and pushing off him, letting gravity take me again as I sailed away from the huge necromantic zombie warrior.

A blur of black fur smashed into the floating form, driving it into the ceiling as I flipped midair and landed on the marble. Val appeared beside me. "Sorry." She said in frustrated anger. I took a quick look through the hole in the floor to make sure the necromancer wasn't going to attack and he slipped by me."

A colossal dark form dropped from the ceiling, landing in a crouch on the ballroom floor. It was easily twenty feet tall, and hunched. Its back had bulging muscles, it's shoulders were wide and led to lanky oversized arms that hung to the floor in its bent over state.

Wild golden eyes pinned me to the spot as lips peeled back from a muzzle filled with razor sharp fangs, lupine ears pinned back in fury as the fur covered form of the biggest fucking werewolf I'd ever seen snarled at me. This couldn't be natural. Voldemort had to have done…something to this asshole.

"The Beast of Gevaudan, I take it?" I said with a put upon sigh.

She nodded. "Yup. And Ryan, he's got a horcrux on him. I sensed it when I shook his hand. That's why he attacked me. It's a ring with a black stone. Pretty sure it's buried in fur right now."

I groaned. Of course. It made sense. Chastel was obviously a fucking monster of a man. Leaving a Horcrux with him was much safer than leaving one with fucking Lucius. Chastel glared at us, drool dripping from his massive jaws, but as soon as Val revealed the existence of the ring, he threw back his head and HOWLED.

To my surprise, I heard a clatter as a few dozen waitstaff dropped their trays and responded in kind, their bodies warping into lupine monstrosities. Most of them were just a bit smaller than Greyback at about thirteen feet.

"Chastel!" Boomed Perenelle Flamel. "You dare to unleash your creatures upon us?" I saw the Veela glaring at him, Fleur's eyes flickering with literal flame as the vampires present bared their teeth at the offending monsters. Chastel didn't bother responding. He attacked. The werewolf blurred toward me, and my snarling Queen flashed out to meet him, stopping the charge cold.

All around us, screams rang out as the werewolves attacked anything nearby. Some were repelled by magic or monstrous might, but I saw at least ten people go down in a tangle of flashing fangs and fur, hot blood spurting out as they were torn apart.

I drew my wand, flicking it twice as I conjured two Asclepius serpents and imbued them with shadows. I sent one up at the ceiling after Jager and the other over Val's shoulder and down Chastel's fucking throat as he roared in outrage. The monster choked, stumbling back, giving Val an opening to start wailing on him.

Blood and other fluids gushed from his mouth, forced out by the punches, and I pushed the spell serpent to writhe and squirm, trying my best to melt as much of the werewolf's insides as possible.

Sadly, no matter how much he puked up, he just wouldn't fucking die. Werewolf healing was another factor that appeared to have been cranked to eleven for this big bastard.

I got another instinctual warning and dodged to the side as Jager, arm still wrapped around the serpent I'd sent at him, crashed into the marble, though this time not hard enough to do more than crater the ground a bit. He'd learned his lesson.

Annoyed, I dove in to close quarters. My hands didn't seem to do enough damage, so I wrapped them in gauntlets of water, isolating the low PH liquid from my skin with neutral water as I got into a fist fight with the bigger man. I had assumed that only having one working arm would have been enough of a liability to let me beat him, but I was wrong.

I tanked a punch to the shoulder, then one to the ribs. I used the hold my serpent had on his bad arm to jerk him off balance and steal force from the attacks, but I barely managed to take them.

Jager was…scary powerful. If this was what necromancy could do, I had been seriously underestimating the temple. Sadly for him, I was also scary powerful. I pushed the serpent up around his neck, having it climb his arm and wrap the throat. He just sneered at me. Zombies didn't need to breath.

I tanked punches like that for about three minutes as the snake wore down his throat, and finally, I jerked him off balance and slipped under a sloppy punch as the exhausted necromancer zombie overextended. I came up behind him, letting the snake around his throat collapse as I kicked out his knee, and then I wrapped an arm up around his neck, grabbing his his chin in a reverse grip with one hand.

With a heave of effort, I shoved the top of his head in one direction, the jaw in the other, and yanked at the same time, ripping his head clean off his shoulders and sending it flying down through the hole in the marble floor nearby.

I hissed in discomfort, noticing a few burns from where the leftover water had touched me, but I decided to deal with it later. I turned to Chastel, ready to help, but I was shocked to see him kneeling, back in human form, in front of Flamel and Val. The werewolf was wrapped in silver chains that appeared to be growing from the stone floor, and his eyes were bright with madness.

Approaching, I glanced down at his hand, slipping the ring on it off and dropping it in my pocket. He tried to resist, but I just broke his fingers. In his human form he was much less powerful. The fingers did heal pretty fast though.

"You alright?" I asked Val. "He didn't get his fangs in your or anything, did he?" I was pretty sure we were immune to diseases like lycanthropy, but better safe than sorry.

She waved me off with a laugh. "I'm fine. He barely touched me. A bit distracted with his guts melting out. That snake tore itself out of his stomach towards the end, and that was jarring enough to let me pin him. Then Mr. Flamel showed up to help and it was cake." It looked like Bermuda had bounced, I didn't see him through the hole in the floor and Flamel didn't seem nearly tired enough to have killed him. Oh well, win some lose some.

I turned to check on the crowd. The werewolves were dead, but so were about twenty five other people. I spotted Genevieve talking to another vampire, and to my surprise, Gabi's family was coming toward us. Her father glanced at Flamel. "Master Flamel, I thank you for your timely assistance. But I have to ask. What exactly is going on here?"

His eyes were wide with fear and anger, and I sighed, knowing that the rest of these folks were all caught up in this for no reason.

Still, this could work for us. I shot Suzie and Daphne a look, and they left the room, coming back moments later with the now much healthier girls who had been trapped in the basement. I gestured to them. "Some of you may recognize these ladies." i said, pitching my voice for the whole room to hear. "Some of you may not. But Chastel was keeping them captive downstairs…for his master."

There was muttering, and I described the traces we'd found of Voldemort (I didn't use his name, I didn't feel like having the "but he's dead" argument), how he'd been working with the temple and was responsible for the attack on the ministry in the UK. By the time I was done, I'd made the bastard sound like french enemy number one, and all of them were up in arms about his existence.

Flamel raised an eyebrow but didn't correct me. He let me lead the conversation, and within the next twenty minutes, I had pledges of support from almost all of Paris's supernaturals, Vampires, Wizards, and Sorcerers alike. Voldemort might have escaped, but we'd track the bastard down. He had a whole city after him now. Now it was time for the REAL hunt to begin.

January 9th, 2012, Beauxbatons,Pyrenees, France, 10:00 PM BST

After arranging a meetup later with Flamel, we left. We were all exhausted, and the girls were back with their own people, so our job was done for now. We still needed to find Voldemort, but the Horcrux was a pretty decent start, and Val wanted to study the thing like she was the locket.

She headed back to Grimmauld with the ring after saying her goodbyes, and the three of us went back to Beauxbatons. Once we got some sleep, we could approach Maxime and Lacroix tomorrow to get them to join our little alliance. It would be a good chance to both interact and get in good with my would be mentor.

When we arrived back at the school (we took a portkey because people were going to be looking into our movements) we ran into an unsurprising duo. Gabi and Fleur, both recently returned themselves, were waiting for us at the portkey hall. They must have left right after the fight, because we hadn't been talking to Flamel for that long.

"Monsieur Black." Fluer said as we arrived, bowing deeply. "Thank you for your help" She turned to Daphne and Suzie. "And you as well. During the attack, one of those filthy mongrels nearly caught Gabi. Mademoiselle Greengrass interceded and saved my sister from a gruesome death. Veela cannot become werewolves."

The sudden accent threw me for a second, until I realized she was speaking english as a courtesy. "It's no problem." I said casually. "And we can stick to french, no need to put yourself out." I inched back a bit, not wanting to be any more in her aura than I had to be.

"Thanks." She said, her voice suddenly shifting to perfect english. "I'm not great at speaking your language." That was super trippy.

I was distinctly uncomfortable being so close to her. She was within a few feet, and she smelled like hours of hard fucking and decadent desserts all at the same time. "Gabi is a friend. I'm glad we were able to help her out." I said after a slight pause. "No thanks necessary, we just did what anyone would do."

Trying not to stare down her straining shirt, I fought back the almost painful erection she was giving me with the iron will that resisting my devilish instincts for over a year had given me. Granted, it was pig iron, and it was failing, but still.

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't like me very much." She said slowly. "You've been avoiding eye contact and you seem like you want to leave. The eye contact thing is normal, most men stare at my breasts or bottom, but trying to get away is new. I have heard my allure can make some men uncomfortable."

Closing her eyes, she took a deep (and very distracting) breath. And suddenly I was fine. Just a man standing in front of a living porn fantasy, without all the extra magic shit.

"You can do that?" I asked in annoyance. "Then why don't you do it all the time."

She arched an eyebrow. "You can hold your breath to swim. Why do you breath? This takes effort. It's usually not worth the bother. My allure isn't so absurd as to drive men mad after only a short exposure."

"Either way, I appreciate it." I said with a sigh of relief. "No offense, but that feeling weirds me out. Your allure is a little…base. The push to sex is fine, but the focus on domination and conquest throw me off." I was pretty sure I could fuck that discomfort away, but I was also pretty sure that Fleur wouldn't be able to handle that kind of sex. Her mortal body was probably too fragile, Veela or not.

She shrugged, a gesture that I found very enjoyable now that it didn't almost drive me insane with the urge to hate-fuck her unconscious. "Most men don't have such a reaction. But now that I know I will make an effort to spare you."

I shot her a wink. "Does that mean you're planning to be around me more?"

"I wouldn't mind." She said as her eyes scanned me appraisingly. "You're a handsome man." She licked her lips as her eyes locked on my slacks. "And clearly…physically gifted." There was a hunger in her eyes as she took it in that definitely made keeping my thoughts non-sexual basically impossible.

Daphne snorted. "You have no idea. It's like sitting on a lighthouse."

"Daphne!" Snapped Suzie, mortified. "Saying things like that at home is fine, but we're dignitaries. You're supposed to be the politically savvy one." Her cheeks were red from embarrassment, though I thought I detected a hint of smugness in her tone. My girl might be modest but she was still proud of her man.

My blonde shrugged. "Please. Sophie Sexpot over there wants to ride the Ryan Express. No use pretending she's not going to get a firsthand demonstration." She froze. "I have been spending FAR too much time with Ryan and Tracey. I am so sorry, Miss Delacour."

Fluer giggled. "I am Vella. I've heard much worse. Though I suspect you might be distracted in your own right. Your eyes have been glued to my backside whenever it appears. Though I must admit, I find your derriere equally enticing. I don't suppose this ride on the 'Ryan Express' makes stops in your bedroom?"

Groaning, Gabi covered her ears. "Gross. Please stop speaking so crudely in front of me. I get enough of that listening to the other students talk about Fluer. Your sex life is none of my business, but wait until I leave."

That got another giggle from the buxom Veela. "Poor little Gabi." She crooned. "Wait until you come into your own powers. You won't remain so innocent. But my sister is right. I did not come here for a liaison. I came to offer thanks, as well as support from the Delacour family. Aside from the hunt for this dark wizard, I know you came hear to win support from the academy and the french ministry."

"That we did." I acknowledged. "You can help with that?"
She smiled prettily. "But of course. The Delacours are nearly as entrenched in France as the Blacks are in England. When my father speaks, powerful men listen." She winked. "And when my mother speaks, powerful men obey."

"I'd love to obey your mother." I said without thinking. Then realized what I'd said and went to backpedal.

Surprisingly, Fluer didn't seem to mind. She just laughed. "Mother is a favorite of many young men your age. She is a, how would you Americans say? Grade A MILF? I have heard many such slang terms applied to her. Young men particularly enjoy her 'mommy milkers' as they call them." She pouted. "Sadly, my own breasts are far lacking in comparison."

"You're fishing for compliments." I said with a smirk. "You've got a rack like an italian suit warehouse, and I'd bet that sizable ass of yours you know it."

She fanned herself with her hand. "Oh, Mr. Black. Your words are so crude. To think you would eye my body in such a way. I feel like a vulnerable little doe about to be devoured. Do you want to devour me, Ryan?"

Gabi smacked her upside the head. "Stop that. What's wrong with you?"

Fluer shook her head a few times as if tyo clear it, her face clouding. "I don't know. You are very handsome Mr. Black, but I do not pant after men like a bitch in heat. I am desired, I do not desire. Something about you is just…" She shuddered. "Insidious. Rich and decadent like a fine chocolate. All three of you are very tempting. I forgot myself for a moment."

"Let's just call it even." I said with a rueful laugh. "We've had a long night. Perhaps we should take some time to regroup and meet for lunch tomorrow in better condition?"

She nodded quickly. "That sounds like a lovely idea. We can have a more civil conversation once we've rested." She hesitated, staring up at me, and then stepped a bit closer. "You have heard, I think, that in France we like to greet with our lips? Perhaps such a goodbye would help…calm the tension between us."

It was bullshit, and probably a bad idea, but I didn't care. I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, letting her shove her tongue into my mouth. I pulled her against me, palming a melon sized booty cheek with one hand and fisting my hand in her hair with the other. I kneaded her ass, enjoying the texture as I savored the taste of her, and she moaned into my mouth.

She tasted like sex and candy and adrenaline. My cock was mashed up against her belly, hard as a rock, and I was half convinced she was about to mount up and take me that ride.

Then she was pulling back, and I reluctantly releasing her jiggly french rump. "I think." I said hoarsely. "I like French goodbyes."
She grinned naughtily at me, trying to fix her lipstick. "That was not a goodbye, Mr. Black. That was a see you later. I suspect a proper goodbye is in your future. Once we have time to…speak more enthusiastically."

Gabi groaned, grabbing her arm. "We'll see you tomorrow, after SOMEONE has a cold shower or three."

"Night Gabi!" Said Suzie happily. "See you tomorrow." She and Daphne each grabbed an arm and dragged me away. "You mentioned possibly having a defense against that?" She asked after we left. "Because I don't like how focused you were on her just then."

I pinched my redheads perfectly serviceable booty, not wanting her to feel underappreciated. "Is somebody jealous?"

"Not really." She shrugged. "But even if you're going to have sex with her, I want you to be in your right mind. She turned off the Veela allure, but between the effort of the night and soaking in it for a bit, you were still a bit foggy. And Daphne wasn't much better. She looked about ready to make a popsicle out of Fleur's underwear."

Daphne glared at her. "Hey! That's not true at all!"

"She's right." I said firmly. "I got a nice handful. She definitely wasn't wearing any underwear." I winked at Daphne, who huffed a little, and Suzie and I both laughed at her adorable pout. "Anyway, I'll check the Spells of Astaroth, I'm sure that there's something defensive for me to use. That kind of seduction is classic demon stuff."

Suzie gave a relieved sigh. "Good. I'm sure you two will enjoy her company at some point during our vacation, but I want you to keep your wits sharp. Even if she plans to help us get the French on our side."

I wasn't sure exactly what Dumbledore was talking to the French about, actually, but our mission was to make England look good, and I didn't think that would hurt us at all.

"In any case." I said casually as we got to our room. "I AM definitely distracted. Luckily I have two devilish beauties with me who don't pale in comparison to that Vella sexpot in any way shape or form."

Daphne smirked at me as we opened the door, stepping into the room. "Oh really? And what might you be interested in doing with the aforementioned beauties. Did you perhaps have something…lewd planned?"

Kicking the door shut, I reached down, grabbed a handful of ass with either hand, and tossed them up and forward, using my magic to make sure they stayed on course as the soared over and dropped onto the bed with a pair of happy squeals. "Sorry." I said as I unbuttoned and dropped my pants. "I must have been too subtle. Maybe I should say it in a language you'd understand. Who wants a Lighthouse Ride?"

January 10th, 2012, Beauxbatons,Pyrenees, France, 10:00 AM BST

My first stop in the morning was Professor Lacroix's office. Much like Hogwarts, Beauxbatons liked to use paintings and tapestries to hide rooms. Professor Lacroix (or Amelie, as she preferred to be called) resided behind a gorgeous hand woven blue and purple cosmos tapestry studded with actual star sapphires.

Rather than swinging aside, when you spoke the correct password to the tapestry you could step through it into another space. It was a terrifying and heady experience, but it reinforced my desire to learn all I could about enchanting.

As I entered, Amelie looked up from a spall table where she was engraving a complex series of runes on a piece of metal. I hadn't done much with ancient runes yet, but I'd been told they allowed a lot more customizability and precision with enchantments than the basic spell variation I'd been learning.

"Hail the conquering hero." She said with a wide smile. "Word around campus is that you single handedly punched out a dragon for Fleur Delacour and her sister, while writing them a sonnet with your off hand."

I nodded solemnly. "It's true. Then I burst into flames and reincarnated again. Because I'm a phoenix animagus and the reincarnation of Merlin himself, sent to save the world from evil."

"My front door creaks." She said with a smirk. "You can start there."

I pulled up a chair, dropping into it with a laugh. "Is that really what they're saying? I wasn't even the one who helped them. Daphne and Suzie deserve all the credit."

She chuckled bitterly, taking off the jewelers loop she'd been wearing. "I'm not surprised. Reality has very little to do with the mutterings of witches and wizards. I know that better than anyone." She gave a sad smile as she set down her engraving tools.

"Sounds like there's a story there?" I prodded gently. "I'm happy to listen if you want to talk about it."

Seeming to consider it, she eventually shrugged. "What do you know about me? In terms of achievements and enchanting skill?" Her gaze was sharp, as if she was expecting me to say something awful, which didn't make much sense to me.

"Honestly." I admitted. "Not much. I was pretty much raised muggle. Flitwick says you're a badass, and Flitwick is a badass, so I trust his opinion. That makes you a badass through the transitive property." Dumbledore's games aside, I didn't think the diminutive charms master would have sent me to anyone he didn't trust.

She nodded slowly. "Perhaps. But did you wonder where my…badassery, came from?" She gestured down at herself. "I'm quite young for a Master Enchantress."

I squinted at her. She was like…thirty. That didn't seem young to me. I had the good grace not to say that out loud, so I just cleared my throat and said. "Oh."

"You little punk." She snapped. "Thirty is VERY young for a Mastery, especially in a field as complex as enchanting." I nodded apologetically. Flitwick might have mentioned something about her being the youngest Master Enchanter in the world, but it was hard to keep track.

"Sorry." I said wryly. "It's…very impressive?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're insufferable. The REASON I am so gifted, is that I had a particularly talented mentor in my younger years. When I was a girl, I was obsessed with enchanting. I read every book, studied every magical building, and consulted every expert I could find."

"Sounds like a good way to learn." I admitted. "But why is that a problem?"

She snorted. "Like I said. I was obsessed. I contacted EVERY expert. Do you know who the foremost enchanter in the world is, Ryan?"

"Can't say that I do." I shrugged. "Like I said, raised muggle."

Her smile became pained. "There are many great locations. Monuments. Fortresses. But most of them are ancient. The secrets to such magics are long lost. There's one exception, though. One masterwork of enchanting that stands among the great jewels of the lost world, forged less than a century ago. Nurmengard."

That didn't ring a bell, but the combination of the german sounding name and the timeframe gave me an idea. "That's right." She said as she saw my expression. Nurmengard Castle, the prison constructed by Gellert Grindelwald to hold Mevolent's enemies during the war."

"Ah." I said with a wince. "I'm guessing you decided to write old Gellert a fan letter?"

She nodded. "I did just that. I was only twelve. My parents were purebloods, you see, so I was inaugurated to magic at a young age. Enchanting was my father's discipline, and he taught me some, but he died when I was young, leaving me his notes and texts. It was the source of my obsession, you see. And it's what made me so vulnerable."

"He brainwashed you?" I asked warily. Grindelwald was one of Mevolent's people, and Mevolent had worshipped the Faceless. Hell, Grindelwald was thought to have inspired Voldemort quite a bit.

Noting my wariness, she chuckled sadly. "He did. He became my confidant. My mentor. He trained and shaped me. Learning from him…Gellert Grindelwald is many things, but one thing you can't call him is untalented. I've never seen anyone with such a gift for enchanting. He was also an excellent teacher."

"So what happened?" I asked as I noticed her getting lost in her thoughts. "You said people talk about you a lot? That doesn't seem like enough to run the rumor mill. How would they even have found out?"

She grimaced. "Because he tried to escape." She said bitterly. "Used an exchange we were having to trick me into sending him rune variations. They barely had any magic in them. Shouldn't have been even remotely dangerous. But he managed to string them together into a destructive runic array and nearly blew his way free. Ironically, the only reason he didn't succeed is that he did too good a job building the place. The array wasn't strong enough."

"They blamed you for that?" I asked incredulously. "You were a kid, right?"

Her glasses glinted in the low light as she let her head dip. "Sadly, the truth is rarely relevant in matters of gossip. Entertainment is what people crave. Watch out for that. You're the big hero right now, but they'll turn on you in a heartbeat."

"That's fine." I said with a shrug. "I give only slightly less of a fuck about their scorn than I do about their praise. People can call me whatever they want as long as they're smart enough not to do it to my face." I looked around. "Wait, is that why Maxime is the only person I see you interacting with? I noticed the students only give cursory greetings and avoid you."

Another bitter laugh forced itself out. "Obviously. Having a world class enchantress is good for the school's reputation, but I'm better seen and not heard. A shiny trophy to bring out for guests. I suspect that's why Filius was so willing to send you here. I need a student as much as you need a mentor."

"That sounds like him." I chuckled. "He's a good guy. You hoping that I can wow the students enough to get some of them to take your class? I'm surprised they're willing to give up the chance."

She waved at the room around us. "Enchanting takes time, patience, power, and talent. Very few people possess all these things. Basic enchantments like Anti-Disapparition Jinxes and Portkey Creation are easy to learn, so they're fairly common. But the kind of enchanting I teach? No, that's far too much effort for most. Well beyond the majority of Masteries."

I could see that. I had a huge advantage because of my powerful intent, not to mentioning personal training in modulating and refining that intent with one of the most powerful wizards in the world. For an average person, enchanting would be difficult, exhausting, not to mention expensive given the materials necessary.
"But enough about that." She said, waving away the depressing subject. "Let's get to the nitty gritty. You met Nicholas Flamel. Tell. Me. Everything."

I shrugged. "He was surprisingly powerful?" I said lamely. "I don't know what you want me to say. I fought with him sure, but we only interacted for like ten minutes. It's not like we wove each other friendship bracelets."

Her brow wrinkled. "Friendship bracelets?"

"Muggle thing." I said, waving that away. "Doesn't matter. Point is, he was a total badass, and I'll be seeing him again soon, if you want to come with me." I smirked at her, knowing that I had her on the hook. Which meant help from a Master Enchantress, which was bound to come in handy. Plus I could get some more hands on lessons in the field, might help me learn faster.

She pouted at me. "You're greedy. Trying to get me to work for free."

"Yeah, but it's working." I said with a wide grin. "You want to meet him so bad. I'd avoid throwing your panties at him though, his wife is usually around."

She smirked at me. "If I suspected female undergarments were what was needed to get the attention of the Immortal Alchemist, I would send him enough of them to fill this castle." I laughed at that. Amelie had already been ragging on Daphne and Suzie about our sex life, so I'd assumed she had a sense of humor, and I hadn't been wrong.

"Lot of crossover between alchemy and enchanting, huh?" I asked curiously. My grasp on alchemy was…fleeting. It was sort of a mix of enchanting and potions from what I knew about it, but it was an extremely research heavy discipline, and frankly I wasn't a research heavy guy. I liked enchanting because it didn't require all the reading and precision things like potions did.

Not that I couldn't research when I needed to, I'd proven that plenty of times, but my preference was for more immediate results.

"The biggest problem faced by enchanters is materials." She said with a laugh. "Alchemy, should you develop a knack for it, is excellent for creating special materials that have high enchantment potential. The philosophers stone is the most famous example, but alchemy is the art of transmutation. Permanently altering something into something else."

I knew that not all permanent potions were alchemy, so I wondered what the difference was? Maybe adding an attribute permanently didn't count as really turning it into something else.

Shrugging, I pulled my chair closer. "Something to keep in mind. How about we do a little enchanting practice since I'm here anyway. Maybe you can show me what you're working on? I don't know anything about runes though, so you'll have to talk slow."

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head ruefully. "Pretty boys should just use their heads as a place to store hats. No need to think so hard when you're so good looking."

I laughed, and she winked at me as she gestured to the metal piece she'd been working on, starting to outline what she'd been doing to it. To my surprise it wasn't too tough to understand, she was an excellent teacher. I hoped I was able to help get her past her reputation problem. If not…maybe I could hire her away from Beauxbatons, having my own personal enchanter would be useful.

This trip wasn't close to over, but it had already been one of the more exciting ones of my life. I had a feeling it wouldn't be my last either. Around the world, things were changing, becoming more dangerous. The thirteen ghosts, the Faceless, the Warlocks, Voldemort. None of these problems were staying neatly inside any one country.

For now though, we had to focus on the here and now. France was a fucking mess of supernatural interest groups, and Voldemort was one step ahead, slipping away untouched at the last moment. We'd have to be sneaky as fuck if we wanted to catch him. I was looking forward to it.

As usual pat-reon has the advance chapters at that site /malcolmtent hope everyone enjoys. I also just posted a new story on here if you'd like to check it out, it's a worm story called "A Novel Approach".