prologue
The Marrakesh night clung to Harry like a shroud as he strode back to the seedy inn, his boots kicking up dust on the ancient cobblestone streets. His mind was a maelstrom, a whirlwind of thoughts as chaotic as the desert winds. The exploration of the ancient ruins, a site of immense magical significance, had attracted the attention of the International Confederation of Wizards (IWC). The urgency of his plans weighed heavily on his mind. He knew he had to accelerate his efforts before the I.W.C could intervene.
The bootleg market was a labyrinth of shadowy stalls and crooked alleyways, each corner hiding secrets and dangers. Harry Black, his presence a stark contrast to the sordid surroundings, moved with purpose. His black robes flowed like liquid shadows, and his eyes, now abysmal depths, scanned the crowd for his target.
The air was thick with the scent of illegal potions and contraband goods, a cacophony of haggling voices and whispered deals creating an oppressive atmosphere. Harry had come here for one reason: to find an assassin, someone skilled enough to carry out a task that required precision and absolute discretion.
As he navigated through the market, Harry's aura of authority and danger kept most of the lowlifes at bay. However, the truly desperate or foolish still dared to approach him.
“Scram!” Harry's voice was cold, and the murderous aura he exuded forced the man several steps back. The man, recognizing the danger, laughed awkwardly and disappeared into the darkness. He knew better than to push his luck with someone who radiated such palpable menace. Harry's reputation preceded him, and even here, in a place where everyone had blood on their hands, he stood out as someone not to be trifled with. By the time he returned to the inn, he had regained his composure, his face a mask of calm that belied the storm within. His ruthless tactics and unyielding resolve are evident as he navigates a treacherous bootleg market to find an assassin, emanating a murderous aura that silences any opposition.
The Hotell's Main Hall
The lobby's main hall was a large inner courtyard embellished with intricate stone carvings and several large planted terracotta pots. It was a den of activity and Adelbert and Otto, flanked by several local wrongdoers, stood up as Harry entered the patio. Kruger was among them, he had returned before Harry had.
“Boss!” Giant greeted his voice with a rumble of respect. Giant was over two meters tall, with an athletic build. As Harry stands before his subordinates, their loyalty forged through blood and terror, he had commanded a brutal purge to eliminate dissent within their ranks the night before. Harry nodded, acknowledging his men. “Everything is proceeding as planned?”
“Yes, of course,” Kruger replied. “The preparations are nearly complete.”
“Excellent,” Harry said, his voice smooth but firm. “We need to move swiftly. The I.W.C is already on our trail, but I have prepared a gift for them.”
Clandestine Meeting
The underground duel arena was located in the old city centre deep underground. Two dragons were fighting to the death roaring loud scratches biting, and breathing fire as their bodies slammed into each other. Harry entered the VIP box, Harry sat in a dimly lit space, the air thick with tension. Behind him was a mysterious figure, cloaked in shadows. It was Kesha a dark witch who had joined Harry's ranks a few years ago. Harry wanted more information on the ruin, so the informer broker sold Kruger a report of the wards and curses in the first room of the camber, but the price was exorbitant. Harry and Kesha did not wait long for the contact to come. She revealed critical information about Harry's current situation. “The I.W.C is tightening its net. They know you’re here. they suspect you are engaging in several illegal activities.
Harry chuckled, leaning back on the sofa. “And so? others will never admit it, and I obviously won’t!” His confidence was unshaken, his mind already working on contingencies.
Karen’s eyes flickered with both fear and admiration. She had seen Harry’s ruthlessness, his cunning. It was why she had chosen to follow him, despite the darkness that surrounded him.
“Your time is running out, Black,” the figure warned. “The ruins won’t remain untouched for long.”
“I’m well aware,” Harry replied, his voice calm. “But I have my own objectives as well.”
Flashback: The Turning Point
In a flash, Harry remembered the pivotal moment that had set him on this path. Albus Dumbledore, his old headmaster, had tried to convince him to stay at Hogwarts.
Albus Dumbledore sat across from a young Harry, his expression grave. “Harry, your grades have improved remarkably. You’re doing better than any other student in your class.”
Harry’s eyes, once bright with youthful innocence, were now cold and calculating. “The school is far too easy, Headmaster. I need more challenging opportunities.”
Dumbledore frowned, sensing the change in Harry. “Durmstrang has a reputation for dark arts. It’s not the place for you, Harry.”
“I disagree,” Harry replied firmly. “Durmstrang produces wizards of great power. I need that power to achieve my goals.”
Dumbledore’s heart ached. He saw the shadow growing within Harry, but he couldn’t stop him. “Harry, please reconsider. There’s still so much you can learn here.”
But Harry had made up his mind. “No, Headmaster. This is where we part ways. Durmstrang has what I need.”
Looking back, Dumbledore realized that year was when he lost his influence over Harry. The boy who had once sought his guidance had chosen a shadier path and one that led him away from the safety and guidance of Hogwarts.
Present Day
Kesha’s voice brought him back to the present. "Harry, are you alright?"
He nodded, shaking off the remnants of the past. "I am fine, Just thinking."
Later that night in Harry's rented apartment, he was having a meeting with his inner circle.
Kruger, ever the pragmatist, joined them. "We've got everything we need. The new recruits seem competent enough."
Harry’s eyes narrowed. "They'd better be. This mission is too important to risk incompetence."
Frank and Ian approached, their expressions grim. "We’re ready, leader," Ian said. "No one will get in our way."
Gisela remained silent, her sharp eyes watching the streets. She had always been the most vigilant, the most aware of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.
As the meeting concluded, Harry stood up, his eyes gleaming with purpose. “Prepare everything. We leave for Egypt at dawn," he announced, his voice low and commanding. "The sands of time are shifting, and we must not be left behind."