Cairo, Egypt.

Inside a modest house near the Nile River, the soft tapping of metal tools echoed through a brightly lit square room. Three long tables lined the walls, their surfaces covered with a disorganized collection of electronic parts, unusual crystals, and vibrant fragments of metal and minerals, scattered without any apparent order.

At one of the tables sat a young man with short, curly black hair. Dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans, he was engrossed in his work, his attention fully focused on what appeared to be a magnifying device.

His hands moved with careful precision, manipulating two thin silver tools as he tended to the object beneath his gaze, each movement deliberate and controlled.

Minutes passed, stretching on for what felt like a long time, until finally, he lifted his head. A slow smile spread across his lips, his expression reflecting quiet satisfaction.

With careful hands, he picked up the item—a flat, rectangular piece, mostly white with brown shades and small splashes of other colors. It was about the length of a finger and three-quarters wide, with golden lines etched into it, forming detailed patterns like a fine piece of craftsmanship.

He moved to another table, where electrical components and scattered items covered the surface. From the mess, he picked up something that resembled a cell phone.

This wasn't like the sleek devices of the future. It was only 1990, a time when the word "mobile" was rarely used to describe a phone. Still, this one fit the description—it had no wires connecting it to another component. The device was bulky, larger than his palm and nearly the size of a brick, with a design focused more on function than form.

He reached for the phone's antenna, but his hand froze mid-motion as he sensed movement outside. Deciding otherwise, he placed the phone and the small rectangular item he'd just finished working on back on the table. Slowly, he turned his head toward the room's only door.

Just then, the door creaked open, and another young man stepped into the room.

The young man appeared Middle Eastern at a glance, with dark black hair, a short, neatly shaved beard, and dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and pants. The two young men exchanged a brief look before the first one asked the newcomer, "How did it go?"

"Just as you said, some people showed up..." He paused, seemingly recalling something. "Not just any grunts. Fortunately, Aisha and I managed to set up an ambush."

"Wizards?"

"One of them," the Middle Eastern-looking man replied. "There were two. The second one was... well, I'm guessing a mutant." He paused, glancing at the other, raising an eyebrow. "Strange, right?"

"Hmm..." The young man stroked his chin, his brow furrowing in thought as he processed the unexpected turn of events. "Why would a mutant be part of a group harming their own kind?" he asked. "Ali, did you check if the mutant was under any mind control?"

"No," The middle eastern looking man, now named Ali answered, his tone clear of doubt. "No sign of it." He paused before adding, "Maverick, maybe you should take a look... try to get them to talk..."

Maverick took a moment to think, then nodded before asking, "Where's Aisha?"

"At the underground base. She's guarding the two kidnappers..."

Maverick hummed thoughtfully. After a brief pause, he scanned the room, then snapped his fingers. The door closed on its own, followed by shimmering golden patterns briefly appearing on its surface.

He nodded, satisfied, then walked over to Ali, who showed no surprise at his actions, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go," Maverick said, and in an instant, both of them vanished from sight.

...

A few miles from Cairo, deep in the Sahara Desert, ten meters underground, Maverick and Ali popped into existence in a dimly lit small room. There was no door, only an entrance that led to a long walkway. On the walls were some kind of glowing objects, not electronic, nor fire. The temperature was neither hot nor cold, just a comfortable warmth—unusual for an underground structure in the desert, clearly hinting that magic was involved.

They walked down the path, and after a few moments, came to a door. Maverick tapped his fingers on it, and it opened, revealing a much larger and brighter hall.

As they entered, they saw a woman in a black tank top and brown jeans, her head leaning back against the sofa she was sitting on.

The woman stirred at the sound of their arrival, her eyes slowly opening, and a smile spread across her face.

"They're inside," she said, motioning toward the door beside her.

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Maverick smiled and gave a nod before glancing at Ali beside him. "You can stay or come watch..."

Ali met Maverick's eyes briefly, then turned to Aisha. After a moment, both of them shook their heads.

"Do your thing... we'll wait outside," Ali replied.

Maverick shrugged, then, without another word, walked toward the door.

As Maverick entered, he saw two men—one middle-aged, the other slightly younger—bound in chains. Their mouths were gagged, and their eyes covered with cloth. The chains, if one looked closely, were carved with intricate patterns, and any knowledgeable person in alchemy would recognize that they were enchanted in some way.

Despite being bound, there were no visible signs of injuries on their bodies.

The two men lifted their heads at the sound of the door opening and footsteps.

Maverick stopped two feet in front of them, tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and gave the two individuals a sharp glance. His fingers moved slightly within his pockets, and the door behind him shut with a soft click. A second flick of his same finger made the blindfolds and gags disappear.

"Asshole, do you have any idea who we are..." the middle-aged man spat, his voice laced with fury, as soon as the gags were removed.

Only then did they take a proper look. What both captives saw was not Maverick at all. No, before them stood a humanoid figure cloaked in black, with misty fumes swirling from its surface. Even the room they thought they were in was completely different.

It was an endless stone flat surface, stretching out in all directions with no walls in sight. The small area they stood in was lit only from above, while the rest of the space above them was completely engulfed in darkness.

The middle-aged man's expression changed as he took in the strange scene. Confusion quickly turned to fear. The younger captive stayed silent, his eyes wide, showing the same fear—only his was even stronger.

Maverick remained silent, allowing the eerie stillness to settle over the room. The whole scene was an illusion he had created before removing the blindfolds and gags from the prisoners. More importantly, he was here to interrogate, and what better way to do that than by reading their minds?

Mind arts worked best when the victim's emotions were unstable, and fear was the most effective tool in this situation. Once their mental defenses wavered, Legilimency would easily provide the answers he needed.

Even in the original world of Harry Potter, Legilimency was considered illegal magic, and in this universe, it was even more strictly prohibited, with severe punishments for any wizard caught casting it.

Fortunately, Maverick didn't need a wand, which meant there would be no evidence to find in the first place. Moreover, with his advanced proficiency in the spell, he could use it like a natural Legilimens—simply by making eye contact.

Maverick took his time, letting the tension slowly seep into the room. The dark figure's crimson eyes never blinked, fixed on the two prisoners. The longer they held his gaze, the more their calm began to crack, panic slowly creeping into their expressions.

Then, a faint sound of flapping wings echoed through the room, making the two chained men glance away from the figure before them.

At first, it was barely audible, but with each passing second, it grew louder, closer. The men twisted their heads frantically, their fear growing as they couldn't tell where the noise was coming from or what it was.

Slowly, dark silhouettes began to take shape—crows, ravens—each casting eerie shadows in the dim light.

As the seconds dragged on, the air grew heavier, the experience becoming increasingly unbearable for the two bound men.

Before them stood an unknown figure—something, or someone, they couldn't understand. All around them, the crows circled, their crimson eyes locked onto them, flying in every direction—above, below, in front, behind—each one brushing past with the unsettling rush of wings, sending icy chills down their spines.

With every passing second, their fear deepened. Though they strained against their chains, their bodies refused to move. They were trapped, bound to something, somewhere they couldn't see.

Maverick observed the two men closely, not just with his eyes, but through his Magical-Sense. When he sensed their emotions had become unstable enough, he began the real interrogation.

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Author's Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 75 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic