36 Scapegoat

The acrid stench of smoke and charred flesh hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the intense battle that had just taken place. Hans Müller stood amidst the smoldering ruins, his robes billowing in the chill mountain breeze, his wand gripped tightly in his hand as his eyes scanned the surroundings with a critical gaze.

Bodies lay scattered across the rocky terrain, some stunned, others bound in magical restraints, their wands confiscated and lying in a haphazard pile nearby. A few had managed to flee, disappearing into the shadows of the mountains, but squads of ICW Aurors were already in pursuit, their footsteps echoing off the craggy walls like the thunderous hooves of some great beast.

Hans turned his attention to the smoldering pile of ashes that had once been a human figure, his brow furrowing in concentration. He knelt down, his muscles protesting after the exertion of the battle, and leaned in closer, his wand moving in a series of swishes as he cast a barrage of diagnostic spells.

"Gerhardt, Elise," he called out, his voice cutting through the eerie silence like a knife. "Come take a look at this."

The two investigators hurried over, their faces etched with curiosity. Gerhardt, a grizzled veteran with a thick beard and piercing blue eyes, crouched down beside Hans, his wand already in hand, the tip glowing softly in the dim light.

"What have you found?" he asked, his voice gruff and tinged with weariness.

Hans gestured towards the ashes, his expression grim. "There's definitely a wand signature here," he murmured, his brow furrowing. "A Serpentwood wand with a Horned Serpent Horn core."

Elise, a lithe woman with sharp features and a shock of fiery red hair, gasped, her eyes widening. "That's the same wand signature we've been tracking Desolus with!"

Hans gave a tight nod, his jaw set firm, neck muscles visibly strained. "Precisely. But why would Desolus just... explode like that? It doesn't make any sense."

He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, his eyes scanning the surrounding area, as if searching for clues that might shed light on the mystery. The mountains loomed around them, their jagged peaks piercing the inky black sky like the jagged teeth of some great, slumbering beast, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to stretch and writhe in the flickering light of the dying fires.

"Unless..." Hans murmured, his mind racing, his thoughts tumbling over one another like leaves caught in a gale. "Unless this was all a distraction, a smokescreen to throw us off his trail."

Gerhardt frowned, his brow furrowing as he turned to regard his long-time partner. "You think he's still out there, then? That this was all just a ruse?"

Hans shrugged, his expression grim, his shoulders sagging with fatigue. "I don't know what to think, Gerhardt. But something about this whole situation doesn't sit right with me." He gestured towards the dark openings of the tunnels that had been the source of Desolus's followers, the shadows seeming to pulse and writhe, as if alive, as if unseen eyes were watching, tracking their every move. "We need to investigate those tunnels. There might be clues, evidence that can shed some light on this whole mess."

With a flick of his wand, he summoned a team of junior investigators, their faces pale and drawn in the flickering light of the dying fires, their robes singed and torn from the battle.

"You lot, keep an eye on the prisoners," he barked, his voice sharp and commanding, brooking no argument. "Make sure they're secure and can't cause any more trouble."

The young witches and wizards nodded as they moved to follow his orders, their wands held at the ready.

Turning back to Gerhardt and Elise, Hans nodded somberly. "Let's go. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

The three investigators made their way towards the tunnel entrances, their wands held aloft, casting a soft, eerie glow that illuminated the rough-hewn walls. The ground beneath their feet was uneven and treacherous, littered with loose rocks and debris that crunched and shifted with every step, threatening to send them tumbling to the ground.

As they approached the first tunnel, a chill wind seemed to whisper through the darkness, carrying with it the faint, musky scent of damp earth and something else, something metallic and sour that set Hans's teeth on edge and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

This is where the answers lie, he thought, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement, any hint of danger lurking in the inky blackness. Whatever game Desolus is playing, we'll solve it.

They split up, each taking a different tunnel, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence, the sound reverberating off the walls and seeming to come from all directions at once, disorienting and unsettling.

Hans moved cautiously, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger, his wand held at the ready, his body tense and coiled like a spring. The walls seemed to press in around him, closing in like the jaws of some great beast, and he found himself straining to catch even the faintest sound, the slightest movement that might betray the presence of an unseen foe.

Stay focused, he reminded himself, his grip tightening on his wand until his knuckles turned white. Desolus is cunning, and he's proven that he's not afraid to play dirty.

As he delved deeper into the tunnel, the air grew thicker, heavier, as if the very atmosphere itself were trying to smother him. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, trickling down his face and stinging his eyes, mingling with the grime and soot that clung to his skin like a second layer.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, the walls twisting and turning in a dizzying labyrinth of stone and shadow. More than once, Hans found himself pausing, his wand held aloft as he cast a quick orientation charm, trying to keep his bearings in the maze-like depths, the soft blue light of the spell casting eerie shadows that danced and flickered across the rough-hewn walls.

After what seemed like an eternity, the tunnel opened up into a larger chamber, and Hans found himself in what appeared to be some sort of makeshift office. Papers and parchments were strewn about, as if whoever had been working here had left in a hurry, their chairs overturned and their desks in disarray, quills and inkwells scattered across the floor like the aftermath of some great battle.

Jackpot, he thought, his eyes narrowing as he began to sift through the documents, his wand casting a soft, golden glow that illuminated the chaos around him.

Most of it seemed to be mundane correspondence, supply lists, and logistical details, but as he delved deeper into the piles of parchment, a pattern began to emerge. Mission reports, contract agreements, detailed plans for attacks on various targets – all of it pointing to the existence of some sort of mercenary organization, a group of hired wands willing to carry out any task, no matter how nefarious, for the right price.

The Nasim al-Aakhir, he read, his brow furrowing as he committed the name to memory. Never heard of them before, but it looks like they've been busy.

Hans continued to sift through the documents, his eyes scanning the pages with a practiced eye, looking for any clue, any hint that might shed light on the true nature of this organization and their connection to Desolus.

Then, buried beneath a stack of parchments, he found a dossier, unremarkable at first glance. The name scrawled across the front in bold, black ink was unfamiliar – Saad Al-Qahtani.

As he flipped through the pages, his brow furrowed deeper with each revelation. Inside were detailed mission reports, contract agreements, and financial records, all pointing to a startling conclusion – this mercenary group, the Nasim al-Aakhir, had been hired to carry out a series of attacks on various targets, including the assassination of a prominent Muggle oil magnate named Khalid Al-Mansour.

A hit on a Muggle business rival, Hans contemplated. Certainly unethical, but not entirely unexpected in the cutthroat world of Muggle business.

But as he delved deeper into the dossier, his eyes widened in shock. The next mission detailed was one that sent a chill down his spine – the complete elimination of the Ebon Hand, a powerful and notorious organization of assassins that had branches across the globe.

Hans gasped audibly, realization dawning on him. The Ebon Hand... gone for a year now, and to think this Nasim al-Aakhir group was behind their disappearance? It seems unlikely, given the formidable reputation of the Ebon Hand.

His confusion only deepened as he turned the page, his eyes scanning the next set of documents. This time, the mission was one of staggering proportions – a series of coordinated attacks on oil refineries and tankers around the world, all with the goal of destabilizing the global oil market and paving the way for Saad Al-Qahtani's own oil empire to rise to dominance.

Nibelung's Hoard... Hans thought, his heart pounding in his chest as the pieces began to fall into place. This is exactly what Desolus has been doing... but to think it might be at the behest of this Saad Al-Qahtani?

He flipped through the dossier once more, his eyes narrowing as he searched for any information on this mysterious figure. Finally, he found what he was looking for – a brief biographical sketch that revealed Saad Al-Qahtani to be a squib from a well-known wizarding family in Saudi Arabia, a man who had amassed a vast fortune in the Muggle world through his oil interests.

A squib, hiring a mercenary group to carry out such audacious and far-reaching attacks? Hans shook his head dismissively. There must be more to this... perhaps his family is involved, pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

He quickly gathered up the documents, tucking them safely away in the folds of his robes, his pulse quickening as he pondered what it all meant.

We need to get these back to headquarters and start piecing this puzzle together, he thought, squaring his shoulders as he turned to head back towards the tunnel entrance.

If these documents are legitimate, then we're not just dealing with a rogue Dark Lord, he sighed, his grip tightening on his wand until his knuckles turned white. We're facing a much larger conspiracy, one that spans both the magical and Muggle worlds, one driven by greed and ambition and a complete disregard for the lives of innocents.

He shook his head slightly, a determined look in his eyes, his gaze sharpening as he thought about the next steps.

No matter what lies ahead, we'll get to the bottom of this. Desolus, the Nasim al-Aakhir, this Saad Al-Qahtani... whoever else is involved... They won't escape justice.

With that thought burning in his mind like a beacon, Hans rejoined Gerhardt and Elise, their expressions mirroring his own grim resolve as they emerged from the tunnels, their robes singed and tattered, their faces smudged with soot and grime.

"What did you find?" Elise asked, her voice hushed, her eyes searching his face for any hint of the truth that lay within the documents he carried.

Hans held up the dossier, his expression somber, his lips pressed into a thin, grim line. "Enough to know that this is bigger than any of us realized... and that we may be dealing with more than just a rogue Dark Lord."

oo0ooOoo0oo

Lucas sat on the edge of his bed, his emerald eyes fixed on the pouch that lay on his desk, its contents hidden from view. He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his thoughts. The plan had been executed, the pieces set in motion, and now all he could do was wait and see how it all unfolded.

Did I do the right thing? The question echoed in his mind, a nagging doubt that he couldn't quite shake. Luring the ICW into a battle, putting their lives at risk... it's not something I should take lightly.

He ran a hand through his messy black hair, his fingers catching on the tangles and knots that had formed during the long hours of planning and preparation. The guilt gnawed at him, a persistent ache in the pit of his stomach, but he knew that it was a necessary evil.

If it means redirecting attention away from myself, making them think that there are other players in this game... then it's a price I'm willing to pay. He thought, his hands gripping the frame of his bed. I just hope that they follow the trail, that they uncover the 'truth' about the magical families in the Middle East.

Lucas stood up, his muscles protesting after hours of sitting still. He paced the length of his room, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet with each step. The walls seemed to close in around him, the air thick and heavy with the weight of his thoughts.

I need to lay low for a while, stay out of the magical world until things calm down. He mused, his eyes drifting to the window, where the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. But that doesn't mean I can't plan for the future.

His mind drifted back to his earlier thoughts, the ones that had been influenced by the Horcrux that had once resided in his scar. The idea of skipping Hogwarts, of finding another school or avoiding it entirely, seemed foolish now, a naive and rushed decision that he couldn't believe he had ever considered.

Yes, there are dangers at Hogwarts, but I can handle them. He thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I'm not the same person I was when I first arrived in this world. I've become a lot stronger than I initially thought possible for someone my age in the Harry Potter world. 

Anyway, he knew that Dumbledore would never allow him to skip Hogwarts, that the old wizard would move heaven and earth to ensure that he attended the school that had been his home for so many years. And really, what would be the point of making an enemy out of the most powerful wizard in Britain, or the Ministry of Magic itself?

No, I'll go to Hogwarts, and I'll make the most of my time there. He decided. I can still practice my own magic, I'll just need to be careful, to find secluded places where I won't be disturbed.

The thought of the Marauder's Map flashed through his mind, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He would need to steal it from Fred and George, of course, but that wouldn't be too difficult. With his sensory techniques, he would be able to sense them coming from a mile away, and with his invisibility, he could slip in and out of their dorm room undetected.

And the homework... well, it's not like I'm really interested in learning about the various ways wand movements for spells like Wingardium Leviosa could go wrong. He thought, rolling his eyes at the idea. But if I need to, I can always just lift the knowledge from a fellow student's mind. It's not like they'll ever know.

Socially, he knew that he would be just fine. He had spent years honing his skills at the Pense School and University, learning how to navigate the social scene and power plays that existed in any group of people. With his Legilimency, he could smooth over any rough patches, could read the thoughts and emotions of those around him and use that knowledge to his advantage.

And after seven years, I'll be free to do whatever I want. He thought, languidly stretching his hands behind his head. I'll have the knowledge and the power to do whatever I want. Whether that be pursuing real immortality, not the knock-off from the Philosopher's Stone that forcibly extended your lifespan but had you looking like a decrepit old man, or researching things like the Death Veil. I am curious about that thing, what exactly is hiding behind it. Maybe it'll be a dimensional portal like I so often read in the stories in my past life? Hah, most likely not. But who knows.

His thoughts turned to the Voldemort situation, to the horcruxes that he knew were scattered across the country. The memories of their locations had been blocked by the Scar Horcrux, but now that it was gone, now that his mind was clear and focused once more, he knew that he could track them down, could destroy them one by one.

But there's no rush, no need to put myself at risk by going after them too soon. He contemplated, his brow furrowing in thought. I'll wait until I'm stronger, until I've developed my powers even further. And then, when the time is right, I'll destroy them one by one.

Thinking of Voldemort, or rather Quirrelmort had a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He had a few ideas for how to handle that particular situation, but he knew that he would need to be careful, that he couldn't afford to draw too much attention to himself.

Touching Quirrel in the middle of the Great Hall, watching him burn to death as Voldemort's spirit emerges from his corpse... it would certainly make a statement. He thought, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. But it might not be the best move for my reputation.

No, he would need to be more subtle, more cunning in his approach. He had a year and a half before Hogwarts, a year and a half to plan and prepare, to develop the skills and the tools that he would need to succeed.

And when I'm ready, when I've developed something to hide my magic, just to be sure... then I'll return to Diagon Alley, I'll go through the Hogwarts textbooks and whatever else is there and commit them to memory.

He stood up from his bed, his bare feet padding softly across the carpeted floor as he made his way to the window. The sun was rising now, the first rays of golden light spilling across the horizon, painting the world in shades of pink and orange.