Blinded by fury, Martin raised his wand to cast the deadliest curse he knew. "Avada ka—" he began, only to be stopped by a maddening scream that tore through the alley.
From the shadows, Harry's pain multiplied beyond control. He had a migraine since his transmigration, believing it would fade once he settled in this world and that it wouldn't affect his magic. But he was so wrong.
Mid-fight, the agony became unbearable. He had yet to understand the nature of magic—in fact, he had no knowledge of it at all. His face contorted into a mask of torment, veins bulging out, and his temples throbbing like the raised roots of an ancient tree.
"AHHHHH…" he bellowed, the sound echoing off the alley walls.
The scream was primal, filled with raw, uncontrolled magic that reverberated through the air. Martin was stunned into silence, his wand lowering slightly as he watched the boy's struggle. Harry was in unimaginable pain, his hold on magic flickering and threatening to collapse.
Harry's vision blurred, and he struggled to maintain his composure. The partial invisibility was long gone, revealing him to the enemy. Desperation fueled him, and he knew he had to act fast before his magic failed completely. His body trembled, and he felt the raw power within him surging uncontrollably.
Martin's initial shock turned into a predatory smile as he sensed an opportunity. "no where to run kid." he sneered, stepping forward confidently.
Despite the unimaginable pain, Harry reminded himself that he is still in battle.
He looked ahead at Martin—the only one still standing—regaining his composure and holding his wand. Martin's expression was savage; he was going to use this opportunity to shut Harry down.
Drawing on the strong will he had developed during the soul-mixing state, Harry focused his remaining strength.
With a desperate pull, he yanked Martin's robe over his head and slammed his fist towards the ground.
Martin stumbled and fell, his green spell missing Harry as he tried to free himself from the fabric.
Harry was relieved that Martin was just a petty criminal with no enchanted robes. The plain cloth offered no protection against Harry's magic.
Usually, there was not much to fear of something like this happening, as most people were not skilled enough with their magic.
With Martin now on the ground, struggling to regain his footing, Harry's pain and determination collided, creating a volatile mix of desperation and fury.
His vision blurred, but his resolve remained clear. He had to end this fight, and he had to do it now.
Raising a big stone of the corner he let it land on Martin's head.
He didn't have the bearing to see the red splatter or the leaking blood of the other people.
but he knew cant stay here for even a sec, as somebody else might come to this place, after all that commotion.
Using this opportunity, Harry ran away, not knowing where he was going but following an instinct that guided him.
His eyes flashed pink once in a while as he ran, jaw clenched, pushing through the pain that throbbed in his head and body.
Each step was a struggle, fueled purely by willpower.
His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred by the strain of magic and the sheer exhaustion gnawing at him.
The alleyways twisted and turned, a labyrinth of lurking dangers, but he kept moving. His feet pounded against the cobblestones, driven by the primal urge to survive.
Soon, he found himself in a dark corner that felt untouched, a place where even the darkest and poorest wizards of Knockturn Alley had never ventured.
The air was thick with mustiness, the only light coming from the faint glow of his eyes.
He collapsed against the wall, his body trembling from the exertion and the pain.
Harry's eyes, still occasionally flashing pink, darted around, as though searching for something in this dark piece of the world.
The silence here was profound, almost oppressive, but in vague intervals he heard the whisper of something, a faint murmur that seemed to beckon him deeper into the shadows..
and just when the darkness around him seemed to close in, harry spotted a box of sorts, a very small box.
Something in him pushed him there.
Crawling over, he peered inside and found three small elves huddling together. There eyes closed, and expression's of for lone hope.
They were the size of his forearm, marks all over their bodies.
They looked beaten and starved.
He didn't know why or what had brought him here, but he could feel a strong sense in his mind, whispering that they were his saving grace, the solution to his current predicament.
He felt like his skull was about to burst
Magic going haywire all around him, shades of green, gray, and crimson wisps leaking out uncontrollably.
In this chaotic state, the feeling of assuredness from the voice was perplexing but undeniable. It told him to make a contract with the elves.
Anyhow when he came to make the contract, he looked at the three elves that had closed there eyes and hugging each other and seemingly on there last breaths,
"fuck it," said harry coming to a decision, only to realize he doesn't know how to make a contract with them, "fuck"
He tried to ask the voice kind of thing that had guided him to here but couldn't get anything.
"lets just go full xianxia on this,"
He bit his thumb and when blood leaking out of it, he willed his magic to it and then fed each elve some of his blood.
For a few seconds nothing happened.
But then slowly the three opened there eyes, they had a feeble stare which could not even muster to hold an expression.
Harry, barely able to focus, extended his hand towards them. "I don't understand why… but I feel like… I need to make a pact with you," he said, his voice strained with pain and exhaustion. "Will you… join me?"
The elves exchanged glances, their eyes widening in a mix of surprise and hope. One of them, slightly larger yet the same morbidly small, "Master is in pain," the elf said, her voice a mere whisper. "We can help if Master forms a bond with us."
Harry nodded, his vision blurring as another wave of pain washed over him. "Yes, please. Help me."
The elves together reached out and touched Harry's hand. A surge of magic flowed between them, mingling Harry's chaotic energy with the elves' own.
The bond formed instantly, a web of power and connection that steadied Harry's frantic magic.
As the contract solidified, Harry felt a wave of relief. The pain in his head dulled, and his magic, though still potent, became more manageable.
The elves, now bound to him, seemed to draw strength from the connection as well.
Still haggard they were now able to get to there feet, life bloomed in their eyes like never before.
"We are yours, Master," said the elves as they bowed there head to him.
"I am your father,"
"huh"* 3
"I am sorry that was a bad joke, take me out of here," harry collected himself and said to the three as the pain had eased so much that the head ache was now barrable.
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AN:
Illustration for the three elves sisters.