HP/LOTM: Visionary - 411

Chapter 411: The Wizard War Over the Mediterranean

The little bout of unrest in Britain was nothing Tom spared a thought for. Right now, a stunning woman sat at a café on a Roman street.

The romantically inclined men of Rome could not keep their eyes off her, and she seemed to relish being the centre of attention. Eventually, a young man, unable to resist his infatuation, plucked a wildflower from a nearby verge and walked up to the soul-stealing beauty, hoping for a serendipitous encounter.

"Hi, beautiful, I was wondering…" he began.

He never finished. Black fire roared up over his skin, and thick smoke briefly swallowed the sky above the café. The heavens turned to ink. Dark clouds rolled over Rome, and a sense of looming apocalypse pressed down on every heart.

"Damned Distorted Order. Since you could not give me what I wanted, I will just have to take it myself," Tom said, her blood-red eyes burning brighter.

Countless wizards began to move through Rome, ready to cross the Mediterranean and launch a wizard war against Egypt.

......

In Cairo, beneath the pyramids, wizards had used Undetectable Extension Charms to hollow out and remake the interior, turning it into a pocket world large enough to house tens of millions.

At that point, even counting all the Converted across Europe, their numbers only reached a few million. That didn’t stop them from building big and thinking ahead.

As the current commander of the Solar Barque, Amin spent his days exploring every inch of the great ship the Egyptian wizards had left behind, hoping to unearth some devastating ancient magic and force a breakthrough.

This time, just as he was about to head back aboard as usual, a gracefully built figure intercepted him with a punch.

"Off to mess around again, are you?" Nura said, flexing her fist.

"I am prepping for the coming war, you know," Amin protested.

Nura sighed. "Look at this."

She handed him a freshly delivered report.

"…What?" Amin’s eyes skimmed the parchment, and a giant question mark might as well have appeared over his head.

"Is this a joke? An army of fifty thousand wizards? Where did she dig them up from?"

He slapped the report on the table just as Edmund walked in.

"I heard Voldemort is marching south?" Edmund asked. His information network was still sharp. Both Nura and Amin nodded.

"Fifty thousand is a lot. How many can we field?" Amin asked Nura.

"Even with accelerated training for the people Aiden sent us, out of the five hundred thousand, not even a tenth can really fight," Nura said, exhaling and privately cursing her absentee teacher.

"Less than a tenth. So we barely break even on numbers. But who takes on Voldemort?" Amin said, frowning.

Since the last captain’s death, there were few wizards left in Egypt independently exploring the Pathway of Mind. The Solar Barque itself needed swathes of manpower to maintain, and they had to watch the Deep Realm’s turbulence besides. They simply had no high-end combatants to throw at Voldemort.

"When in doubt, ask the teacher. Great Master Above the Grey Fog…" Amin began his prayer without a second’s hesitation.

Grey mist billowed over the Solar Barque. The Stone Slabs buzzed once and fell quiet.

"So things really are this bad already?" Amin said, scooping up a handful of mist.

A shadowy fist rapped him on the head.

"I know about Voldemort. You can use this war to sort out who among your wizards is truly capable," Aiden said, shaking his head as if still getting used to speaking.

"As for Tom, I want you to handle her," he added, pointing at Edmund.

"Me?!"
"Him?!"

The shock was not Edmund’s alone. Amin blurted out the question first. "How is he supposed to stand against Voldemort, avatar of Chaos?"

"Have a little faith. You carry Reverse Entropy and… well, you will see for yourself," Aiden said, winking at Edmund and ignoring Amin. Then he dissolved into mist.

"We’re done for. Teacher’s abandoning Egypt. Let’s divvy up the luggage and run," Amin said, tugging at his own hair.

"Leave it. You did not have much to start with," Nura said dryly, smoothing it back down. "If Teacher says we can take her, then we can. I trust him."

"Then we move," Edmund said, rising. Magic flowed through him. Every motion seemed to leave an afterimage behind.

Moving armies was a nightmare in any age, but magic made wizard warfare brutally efficient. Food and water could be stockpiled endlessly in extension-charmed stores. Weapons were nothing more than slender sticks. On top of that, the troops could teleport.

An army freed from logistics becomes exponentially more mobile and destructive.

On the third day of Egypt’s mobilisation, war erupted over the Mediterranean. Thousands of wizards hurled spells in unison, the flashes of magic turning night over the sea into blazing day.

At the height of the battle, a bolt of lightning speared down toward the Egyptian ranks. At the same moment, in the Sea of Collective Subconscious, a chapel built from the bones of all manner of strange species rose from the depths.

It stepped across the line between illusion and reality, descending into the material world. The lightning struck its roof and dissipated.

"Egyptian wizards, hand over your Protocol, and I will spare you. Swear yourselves to me, and I will take you under my banner," Voldemort said, her form manifesting at the very front of the host.

Blood-red snake eyes opened and swept across every wizard facing her. Blood-coloured eyes bloomed in the depths of each heart.

"Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Where is it?!" her mind-voice hissed.

"My patience is limited. If you force me to take it myself, none of you will live," Tom said, voice thick with threat.

"Maybe try a tone other than ‘schoolyard bully shaking kids down for pocket money’?" a voice drawled.

A jet of green light, heavy with killing intent, streaked straight for Voldemort.

"How dare you!" Two Death Eaters flanking her saw their beloved master under attack and sprang at once for the spell’s caster.

Click, click, click, click—

The sound of gears turning filled the air. Blue droplets began to fall from the sky. Every Death Eater they touched slowed, bogged down as if wading through tar.

In an instant, the battle turned. Egyptian wizards seized the opening and launched a ferocious counterattack. High-powered curses slammed into the stalled Death Eaters in waves, forcing them back again and again.

Voldemort drew a deep breath and exhaled a hurricane. The gale tore the clouds from the sky.

Then a giant clockface, filling the heavens, reflected in her pupils. Its hour hand was not marking time, but drawing it out of the Death Eaters below, stealing away their remaining moments with every tick.