Wild Magic
The narrow streets of Knockturn Alley were shrouded in shadows, the air heavy with the faint scent of damp stone and burning incense. Lanterns flickered dimly, casting eerie patterns on the cracked cobblestones as Draco and Orion moved silently through the twisting alleys.
Draco led the way, his wand drawn and his movements purposeful. He knew this area well, though he hadn’t set foot here in years—not since he’d distanced himself from the darker elements of his family’s past. The familiar oppressive atmosphere made his skin crawl, made him want to turn tail and run but he kept his focus sharp.
Behind him, Orion moved with an unsettling ease, his wand held loosely at his side, his expression calm. Draco glanced back at him, irritated by how relaxed he seemed.
“Do you always stroll into dark, cursed alleys like you’re on holiday?” Draco muttered under his breath.
“Do you always act like you’re carrying the weight of the world?” Orion rebuttled.
Draco scowled but didn’t respond, instead turning his attention back to the task at hand. Their mission was straightforward on paper: investigate a series of magical disturbances linked to a black-market smuggling ring. The reality, however, was far less predictable.
They came to a stop outside a decrepit shop with boarded-up windows and a sign that had long since faded. Draco raised his wand, murmuring a detection spell. A faint shimmer of magic rippled through the air, confirming what they already suspected—the place was warded.
“Complicated,” Draco muttered, frowning.
Orion stepped beside him, his purple eyes narrowing as he studied the wards. “Not really. These are layered but sloppy. Whoever set them up didn’t expect anyone with real skill to come poking around.”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “And I suppose you’re an expert on breaking wards?”
Orion gave him a sideways glance, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Want to find out?”
Before Draco could respond, Orion raised his wand and began weaving a series of intricate counter-spells. The air around them shimmered as the wards unraveled, each layer dissolving like smoke. Draco watched in reluctant admiration—Orion’s movements were precise, his control over magic effortless.
Within moments, the wards were gone. Orion stepped back, gesturing toward the door with a mock bow. “After you.”
Draco rolled his eyes but pushed the door open, stepping into the darkened shop. The air inside was thick with dust, and the shelves were lined with cursed objects—broken wands, cracked mirrors, and faintly glowing talismans.
“This place is a treasure trove for trouble,” Orion murmured, his voice low as he followed Draco inside.
They moved carefully, their wands casting faint light as they searched the space. Draco’s sharp eyes caught movement near the back of the shop—a faint shimmer of magic flickering in the air.
“Over there,” he whispered, nodding toward the source.
The two of them approached cautiously, and as they rounded a shelf, they found a small crate glowing faintly with runes. Draco knelt beside it, inspecting the markings.
“Smuggled goods,” he muttered. “High-level curses meant to ward off anyone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”
“And what are the chances they left us a parting gift?” Orion asked, glancing around the room.
As if on cue, the air grew colder, and a low, guttural hiss echoed through the shop. Draco shot to his feet, his wand raised.
“Clever bastards,” Orion muttered, his voice tight. “They set a trap.”
From the shadows emerged a creature unlike anything Draco had seen before—a swirling mass of black smoke and flickering red eyes. It moved like a predator, circling them with an unnatural grace.
“A shadow wraith,” Orion said calmly, stepping in front of the crate. “Nasty piece of magic. It feeds on fear.”
“Brilliant,” Draco snapped. “And what’s the plan for dealing with it?”
Orion’s smirk returned, but there was a glint of seriousness in his eyes. “We don’t give it what it wants.”
Before Draco could respond, the wraith lunged. The room erupted into chaos, the creature’s hissing filling the air as it lashed out with tendrils of smoke. Draco and Orion moved in tandem, their spells cutting through the dark.
Draco cast a stunning spell, but the wraith absorbed it, surging toward him. Orion was there in an instant, his wand slicing through the air as he cast a bright, golden shield that deflected the attack.
“Stick to light-based spells!” Orion called out, his voice steady despite the chaos.
Draco gritted his teeth, raising his wand. “Lumos Maxima!”
A blinding burst of light filled the room, forcing the wraith to recoil with an ear-piercing screech. Orion seized the moment, casting a spell Draco didn’t recognize—a twisting beam of silver light that pierced the wraith’s core.
The creature let out one final shriek before disintegrating into a cloud of harmless smoke.
Draco lowered his wand, his breathing heavy as the silence returned. He turned to Orion, who was inspecting the crate as if nothing had happened.
“You’re insane,” Draco said flatly.
Orion looked up, “And you’re better in a fight than you give yourself credit for.”
Draco huffed, but before he could retort, Orion held up the crate. “Let’s get this back to the Ministry. Drinks are on you if I have to do all the paperwork.”
Draco glared but found himself smirking despite the chaos. This partnership, he realized, was going to be anything but boring.
~
After their first mission, Draco and Orion found themselves back at the Leaky Cauldron, occupying the same quiet corner booth. The bar was livelier now, with witches and wizards laughing and sharing stories, but their little pocket of space felt secluded. The crate of confiscated cursed goods had been safely delivered to the Ministry, and now, with the adrenaline of the fight wearing off, Draco nursed a glass of firewhisky while Orion sipped something darker and richer.
Draco studied his companion over the rim of his glass. Orion seemed unfazed by everything they’d been through, his posture relaxed, his smirk ever-present. But Draco couldn’t shake the memory of those strange, silver-tinged spells or the ease with which Orion had dismantled the shadow wraith.
“Veyne,” Draco began, his voice cutting through the hum of the bar.
Orion raised an eyebrow, setting his drink down. “Malfoy. You’ve got that look again” he said with a mild grimace “like you’re about to interrogate me.”
Draco ignored the jibe, leaning forward slightly. “That spell you used on the wraith. I didn’t recognize it. And those wards earlier—you disarmed them like they were child’s play. What kind of magic are you working with?”
Orion’s glowing purple eyes studying Draco for a moment before he leaned back, “Curiosity suits you.” He says, as if draco wasn’t on the edge of his seat waiting for an answer.
“Don’t dodge the question,” Draco said, his tone sharper.
Orion chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fine. My magic’s… complicated. I’ve had some unusual training, let’s say.”
Draco frowned. “Unusual how?”
Orion tilted his head as if considering how much to reveal. “I grew up in Australia, as you know. Magic’s different there. We draw from older, wilder sources—roots that run deeper than wands and Ministry regulations. My teachers focused on channeling that raw magic, shaping it into something precise without dulling its edge.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Raw magic? You mean elemental?”
“In part,” Orion said, his tone casual. “But it’s more than that. It’s about understanding magic at its core. Breaking it down to its purest form and bending it to your will.” He leaned forward slightly, his purple eyes gleaming. “It’s not something you’ll find in Hogwarts textbooks, that’s for sure.”
Draco’s curiosity deepened, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of skepticism. “And those eyes of yours—what’s that about?”
Orion’s smirk returned, a touch of mischief in it now. “Ah, the eyes. They’re a side effect. Channel enough raw magic, and it leaves a mark. Some people call it a curse. I call it an advantage.”
Draco stared at him, his mind turning over everything he’d just heard. He’d spent his entire life surrounded by magic, but the kind Orion was describing felt foreign—untamed, almost dangerous.
“Why come here, then?” Draco asked after a moment. “If you’re so skilled, why bother with the Ministry?”
Orion’s smirk faltered slightly, replaced by something more serious. “Let’s just say I needed a fresh start. Australia’s got its fair share of skeletons, and I figured it was time to see how the rest of the world does things.”
Draco wasn’t convinced, but he let the matter drop, instead picking up his glass and taking a long sip. “Well,” he muttered, “your ‘wild magic’ certainly came in handy tonight.”
Orion chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “High praise from you, Malfoy. I’ll take it.”
As they settled back into a companionable silence, Draco couldn’t help but feel that he’d only scratched the surface of Orion Veyne’s secrets. And for reasons he didn’t fully understand, he found himself wanting to know more.