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HP: Fairy Tale Wizard - 160
🕑 Added 2025-11-04 13:19:34 +0000 UTCChapter 160: Andersen and the Aurors
Sterling quietly left with Robin and his luggage.
As for the two inspectors, benefiting from the current lack of surveillance knowledge, his check-in had been based entirely on illusion with no evidence left behind. However, several people had still seen him at the hotel desk. Therefore, he only needed to use Obliviate on all of them to erase traces of his presence.
"Phew. Robin, is my Obliviate charm a bit off?"
Sterling placed Robin directly on his shoulder this time, casting an "invisible" illusion on both of them. Now they were invisible to Muggle eyes.
"Chirp? Robin doesn't understand, chirp."
"That's right. After all, you're just an alchemical creation. I'll ask Professor Dumbledore or Mr. Nicolas when they're in front of me."
Sterling shook his head. His Obliviate seemed a bit too convenient. He could directly cast newly learned magic, which was normal since his other spells also worked after one attempt. The key issue was that upon casting, he could already perform precise manipulation of memories. When erasing Eldouan's memories, he could even read through them like rewinding film footage.
If he went deeper, for a moment, he had a premonition. With slightly more magic, he could touch their "story."
Sterling naturally didn't follow this sensation. He hadn't forgotten what Voldemort's specialized Killing Curse was—a curse that could kill "story" itself.
If he accidentally eliminated these two inspectors' "stories" along with their memories, these inspectors were good people. Sterling didn't want human deaths on his conscience.
"What are we doing now, chirp?"
"Let's go check the crime scene first. The newspaper marked the location. Hopefully, the story there hasn't completely dissipated."
"However, we probably need some disguise. Conveniently, I have an appearance I haven't used in ages."
Sterling's hair and eye color instantly began shifting to blue. The originally gently curled hair lost its wave, standing up somewhat spiky.
Within moments, Robin couldn't recognize the person beneath its feet.
"Is this the Animagus transformation for appearance, chirp?"
Sterling nodded, his voice also changed—deeper and more hoarse.
"Mm, really convenient. And there's no magical fluctuation? And it seems adjustable for body type, too?"
"According to the data, Animagus transformation can easily adjust facial features and details like hair color, but causes pain during 'large-scale transformations' like height and weight, chirp."
Robin, a mobile knowledge query device.
Sterling extended his left hand. Finger joint length changed randomly under his manipulation, stretching to thirteen inches at its longest or disappearing entirely at its shortest. No pain.
"I think I might be slightly different."
"That's quite normal, chirp."
Robin nodded knowingly. For Sterling, being abnormal was normal.
Sterling adjusted his height upward. Sure enough, no pain. He was like modeling clay, easily enlarged or shrunk.
Finally, he had shaped himself into an adult appearance, except that he couldn't yet imagine his adult facial features, so his face still looked somewhat youthful.
"I feel like I've seen this face somewhere, chirp."
Sterling answered while casting transformation spells on his clothes to lengthen them:
"Probably from Hermione. Oh? Should I dress like a detective? Andersen, the name of this face I'm using, is also my pen name."
Robin tilted its head, searching memory. It apparently found this name and corresponding image in Hermione's fairy tale collection. It looked not much different from Sterling before he'd "grown taller."
"Should I call you Andersen or Sterling now?"
Sterling, now wearing typical detective clothing with a toy pipe in his mouth, gazed at Robin with deep eyes.
"Call me Sherlock Holmes Andersen Sterling." He paused. "Okay, just call me Andersen. I'm now Detective Andersen."
He managed to say half before the pipe fell to the ground.
Sterling waved, turning it into a thread. He continued examining Robin, looking it up and down.
"What are you doing, chirp!"
"Mm, don't you think our images are a bit mismatched?"
"Chirp?"
Moments later, Robin had a small beret on its head, held by a brown plaid shawl fastened with a small silver chain.
It walked awkwardly on Sterling's shoulder.
"Can't fly anymore, chirp."
"It's fine. Just stay on my shoulder."
Sterling looked at Robin now, satisfied, then pulled out yesterday's newspaper bought earlier.
"172 Pine Street area, in a small alley by the Champs-Élysées Restaurant? That's some distance from here."
Should he call a cab?
Or Apparition. He hadn't learned it yet, mainly because Hogwarts doesn't allow Apparition. But fire transportation derived from Life Flame could be tried.
He'd never attempted it. But according to his proficiency with Life Flame manipulation, it probably wouldn't explode.
Sterling suddenly recalled Dumbledore's transportation magic. It looked identical to fire transportation, but he said it actually combined Phoenix ability with Apparition. Low danger, but required contracting with a phoenix.
A flame ignited in Sterling's palm. He closed his eyes, carefully imagining the crime scene photo from the newspaper.
That dark alley slowly took shape in his mind. Then the flame in his palm flowed like liquid to the ground, rising again, forming a mirror-like plane.
Sterling compared his mentally sketched location with the photograph to ensure 100% accuracy. He didn't want to cause a massive explosion. Then would he be investigating or helping the murderer destroy the scene?
Wait, if the murderer really was Andrew, perhaps cleanup was correct?
Sterling quickly shook his head, banishing this terrible thought.
If Andrew really was the murderer, what would he do?
He didn't know yet. Perhaps only when he found Andrew and truly stood before him would his heart provide an answer.
"Robin, don't try to leave my palm when we arrive, okay?"
Sterling placed Robin in his palm, closing both hands to ensure Robin was completely enclosed.
Mentally reciting the destination—"172 Pine Street area, in a small alley by the Champs-Élysées Restaurant"—he stepped into the flame.
This felt quite different from the two transmission methods he'd experienced. He was genuinely "walking."
Though his eyes couldn't open to see anything, he faintly sensed a path extending beneath his feet. As the distance traveled grew, the scorching heat intensified.
Fortunately, Life Flame protected his body surface, too. This heat at most made him sweat a bit more.
After walking roughly two or three minutes, the heat vanished instantly. His eyes, previously unopenable, felt unrestricted. Sterling opened them.
Face-to-face with a bald man holding his wand in readiness.
Sterling blinked, instantly startling the bald man into backing several steps, knuckles white gripping his wand.
Looking closer, his back had two younger wizards—one male, one female—also wand-ready, alert.
Did I teleport to the wrong place?
That shouldn't be it. The wrong location would trigger an explosion. Sterling carefully examined. The location was right. The corpse should have been taken by Scotland Yard, but the walls still bore unwashed bloodstains.
The two younger wizards stood by each wall. Easy to guess. They were investigating this.
So... Aurors?
"This strange wizard, may I ask your purpose?"
Kingsley felt cold sweat on his back. He intensely focused on the "Dark wizard" before him, the phrase "Shield Charm" hovering ready in his throat.
Honestly, without two newly-recruited Auror Office rookies behind him, he'd have Apparated away already.
This person had just emerged from a "hole" with deep crimson flames, burning identical flames while inside, which only extinguished upon leaving.
Deep crimson flames—giving him an extreme sense of danger. Fiendfyre. What else could it be?
Someone who wraps themselves in Fiendfyre. Which Dark wizard leader from which magical faction was secretly smuggled to England? And had the misfortune to stumble upon his own face.
Must find a way to notify Dumbledore.
This Dark wizard, even if not matching either Dark Lord, probably exceeds what the Auror Office could handle.
Scrimgeour was all righteous passion without brains. Better at handling ordinary Dark wizards. But this one is treating Fiendfyre like a toy. Better call the professional Dark wizard expert.
Don't let him stuff the entire Auror Office in there.
Of course, the prerequisite was he had to survive.
If he couldn't survive and was unable to transmit intelligence, Kingsley didn't dare imagine what incidents this Dark wizard could cause during this time period.
The war had only recently ended. British magical wizards hadn't yet emerged from the trauma of warfare.
"Our captain is asking you—"
"Stupefy!"
Kingsley hurriedly knocked the fool new recruit out. Don't recognize Fiendfyre? No estimate of opposing strength? This idiot wouldn't become a full Auror.
"I apologize, this kid's mind isn't too bright."
"Oh, sorry, I was spacing out."
Sterling scratched his head. He didn't expect the Auror Office, as the magical society's law enforcement, to be this polite. Treating a regular wizard stumbling into a crime scene with such courtesy.
Plus, they knocked out the impolite temporary worker. So magical, police were this approachable?
It felt like those "customer-as-god" service employees were providing emotional value. Sterling hadn't seen service workers knocked out for poor attitude. The sound hitting the ground was rather loud.
Sterling faintly imagined pain in the back of his head.
Meanwhile, Kingsley was also confused.
A Dark wizard this polite? He'd assumed the person would immediately draw wands and start killing.
"Sorry," what word was this that Dark wizards could utter?
Your soul, blackened by Dark Magic, is crying. You cultivated Fiendfyre to this level for saying "sorry"?
No. This was good.
Though unsure of the angle, anyway, a communicable Dark wizard beat an uncommunicable lunatic.
Just had to escape and report to Dumbledore. Everything would improve.
"No problem, no problem, as you wish."
Kingsley Shacklebolt, why are you bowing to Dark wizards!
Kingsley silently criticized himself while stooping.
Wow. Now, really must give the Auror Office top marks. So incredibly approachable.
"I heard there was a wizard deceased here, so wanted to see. Try finding some clues or something."
"Mm? Are you perhaps the deceased's friend or relative?"
"Could you understand it as me wanting to be a detective?"
Kingsley nodded. Actually, mm-hmm. Definitely came for the deceased wizard's soul and corpse. I heard long ago that those were Dark Wizard treasures. Luckily, the corpse was already taken by Muggle Aurors. After the Ministry's negotiation, the Auror Office retrieved it.
Otherwise, letting this already-formidable Dark wizard obtain it? Disaster.
"Then we won't bother you. We'll leave first, okay?"
Kingsley backed several steps, using Levitation to grab the idiot's collar, hoisting him up.
"Wait, this gentleman should be an Auror, right?"
"Yes, call me Kingsley. Do you have other needs?"
Risking giving true name to Dark wizards was really courting a longer life elsewhere.
"May I ask if you know information on this deceased?"
Is he testing to see if I'll tell the truth? For this Dark wizard, lying won't work.
Anyway, she's already dead. Can't die twice, right?
"Angelica Duplicate, the deceased's name."
"If you have no other orders, we're leaving?"
Kingsley watched Sterling silently, unmoving, hastily pulling the young recruit with one hand, dragging the unconscious idiot with the other, vanishing in a flash.
After a long while, Sterling repeated that name.
"Angelica Duplicate."
"Andrew Duplicate."
Yes, the murderer definitely isn't Andrew. How could Andrew harm his own siblings?
Though he said so, Sterling's voice couldn't help but tremble.
Duplicate family. Andrew was sent to the Muggle world because of his "condition," nearly abandoned child status.
However, Sterling tried, he couldn't deny one point—
Andrew had a motive for the crime.
