Knockturn Alley Practical Combat
Regulus approached Orion discreetly and whispered, "There are four of them. Two with Disillusionment Charm to the left front, and two at the alley entrance. One of them might be Werewolf."
Orion didn't stop walking, nor did he even turn his head; he simply nodded slightly.
He had noticed it long ago; from the moment he entered this side alley, those pairs of eyes swarmed around him like flies.
Based on his decades of experience navigating the Magic world, this level of surveillance was laughable—blatant, full of loopholes, and failing to even achieve the most basic concealment.
A lowlife.
Orion made a judgment in his mind: they were most likely the Dark Wizard who couldn't make it in the lowest rungs of Knockturn Alley.
Unable to find decent work or afford decent materials, they can only camp out in these remote alleys, hoping to stumble upon a lone, easy target and make a quick buck.
They might not even recognize who he is.
Anyone with a modicum of insight and knowledge, upon seeing the Black family's coat of arms and his face, which frequently appears in the Wizengamot section of the Daily Prophet, would know that this is not someone to be trifled with.
But since we can't recognize it, that's fine too.
Waste utilization.
After inspecting the last shop, which was an underground clinic selling smuggled Magical Creatures organs, they found...
The shop owner is a former St Mungo's's healer who was fired for illegal experiments and now continues his research in Knockturn Alley.
As the shop manager escorted them to the door, he lowered his voice and reminded them, "There are a few suspicious people outside. They've been following you for three blocks. Should I take care of them?"
As the shopkeeper spoke, he twirled a small knife in his hand. The blade was as thin as a cicada's wing and gleamed with a bluish light in the dim light, clearly poisoned.
Orion shook his head. "No need."
He turned to Regulus: "You handle this."
Regulus looked up at his father, waiting for what was to come.
"This is a rare opportunity for practical experience," Orion said calmly, as if he were assigning homework.
"These clueless scumbags aren't always around. Even in Knockturn Alley, anyone with a brain would recognize the Black family head. Since they don't, it's perfect for you to practice on."
He added, "Be careful not to make too much noise. Although no one is in charge here, the Auror from the Ministry of Magic occasionally patrol, and you'll be in trouble if you get caught."
Regulus nodded, though he had actually wanted to try it for a long time.
He was always a little hesitant when sparring with Orion, not because he was afraid of hurting his father; with Orion's strength, he probably couldn't do it yet.
However, some of the moves are indeed rather unseemly and unsuitable for use in a father-son sparring match.
For example, there are Dark Arts learned from Forbidden Section that lean towards torture and control, and there are Transfiguration spells based on an understanding of the nature of matter that are almost insidious.
But it's perfect for scum like those in Knockturn Alley.
When they came out of the shop, the four people following them outside became visibly nervous.
The two figures using the Disillusionment Charm shrank back into the shadows to the left, while a low growl escaped the throat of the Werewolf at the alley entrance in the distance, and another cold, Magic Power finger gripped a wand.
Regulus first surveyed the surrounding environment.
This side alley is very remote; even in a place like Knockturn Alley, it would be considered remote.
Most of the buildings on both sides were abandoned, with windows boarded up, walls covered in dark moss, and the ground uneven and filled with foul-smelling sewage.
There were no other pedestrians in sight, only a few rats rummaging for food in the garbage heap.
A perfect battlefield.
Regulus walked ten steps out of the shop and stopped in the middle of the alley.
He turned around, facing the corner piled with discarded wooden crates to his left, and said calmly, "Come out. Your Disillusionment Charm is so bad, stop hiding."
The two figures in the corner froze for a moment.
Two seconds later, the Disillusionment Charm was lifted.
Two male wizards emerged from the shadows, dressed in tattered robes, their faces covered with black cloth, revealing only their eyes.
Their wands were already in their hands, the tips pointing at Regulus.
"Kid, you're smart to know what's good for you." The tall male wizard on the left said in a hoarse voice, "Hand over your money and valuables, then get lost."
The short, stout male wizard on the right added, "And your father's too, hand them over together."
Regulus, not wanting to waste words, raised his right hand, the wand sliding into his palm, and began his attack.
A spell shot towards the ground beneath their feet, Confringo.
Silencio, the Magic Power erupting from the tip of the wand surged forth.
The puddles on the ground instantly burst open, and sewage mixed with gravel rained down on the two wizards, who instinctively raised their hands to shield themselves.
Regulus shifted half a step to the left, lightly touched the ground with his toes, and slid out as if weightless.
At the same time, the wand drew three arcs in the air, and the three spells were fired almost simultaneously, but with completely different trajectories.
The first spell is Binding Charm. Magic Power condenses in the air into a semi-transparent rope covered with barbs. Once entangled, the more one struggles, the deeper the barbs will penetrate, and the target's blood will be continuously absorbed.
The rope lunged at the tall male wizard.
The second spell is Cutting Curse, where Magic Power condenses into a blade as thin as paper, the edge vibrating at a high frequency and emitting an almost inaudible shriek.
This Cutting Curse not only cuts through flesh but also severs the flow of Magic Power, making the wound extremely difficult to heal. The blade spun as it flew toward the short, stout wizard's hand holding the wand.
The third, most concealed, shot towards the wall behind the two. The moment the spell struck the wall, ripples spread across the stone surface, and then the entire wall began to melt and Transfiguration.
The wall surface became as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the backs of the two wizards.
The tall wizard saw the rope rushing towards him and instinctively dodged backward, only to crash into the wall behind him, which had now turned into a mirror.
The moment he touched the mirror, it sucked his body in and enveloped him. No matter how much he struggled, he could only create ripples and could not break free.
In that instant, the rope wrapped around his left leg.
The barbs dug into the flesh and began to absorb blood. The tall wizard screamed and tried to cut the rope with his wand, but the situation was even worse for the short, fat wizard.
The Cutting Curse was incredibly fast. The short, stout wizard barely managed to raise his wand to block it, but he only managed to finish half of the incantation Protego before the blade had already sliced through his right wrist.
There was only a thin red line, as thin as a hair, but the short, fat wizard suddenly lost all strength in his right hand, his wand slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground, and fine beads of blood began to seep from the red line on his wrist.
"My hand!" The short, stout wizard clutched his wrist, his voice filled with terror, letting out a piercing scream, "Aaaaaah!"
At the far end of the alley, the Werewolf and the sinister sorcerer saw their companion instantly overwhelmed and immediately rushed over.
When Werewolf runs, it moves on all fours at great speed, and the whimper in its throat turns into a beast-like growl.
He couldn't fully transform, but his teeth had begun to sharpen, his fingernails grew long and black, and his eyes turned blood red.
The sinister wizard then moved to the side, brandishing his wand and chanting a long, difficult incantation.
A dozen or so black ice spikes condensed in the air, their tips aimed at Regulus. With a flick of his wand, the ice spikes shot out in unison.
Regulus didn't even look at them.
He waved his left hand to his side, and an invisible barrier unfolded in the air.
The moment the black ice spikes struck the barrier, their trajectories were forcibly twisted, all flying past Regulus's side and embedding themselves in the wall behind him, exploding into a shower of black ice flowers.
At the same time, he pointed his wand at the charging Werewolf and Transfiguration, targeting the air the werewolf was breathing.
When the Werewolf was ten meters away from him, a faint Silver Light shone from the tip of Regulus's wand.
The Werewolf opened its mouth wide and took a deep breath, preparing for its final charge. Its lungs expanded, waiting for Oxygen to enter its bloodstream.
But nothing happened.
The inhaled air seemed to have lost all function, unable to react with the lungs.
The lack of oxygen caused his eyes to widen and become bloodshot, slowed his running speed, and made his limbs feel weak.
However, Werewolf do have stronger magic resistance than ordinary wizards; even without transforming, their physical resistance remains.
Driven by his animalistic instincts, he continued his charge, his right claw already outstretched, reaching for Regulus's throat.
Regulus stood still and swung his left hand in front of him.
"Clang!"
A crisp metallic clang rang out, and a burst of silvery-white light suddenly illuminated the air in front of Regulus.
Of the five jet-black fingernails, the longest one broke off at the base, and the other four also cracked, their tips flying off and leaving several black streaks in the air before being thrown backward and landing on the stone pavement with a clattering sound.
The Werewolf jerked its right paw back, and a crisp cracking sound came from its wrist.
He screamed and staggered backward, shrinking back as he withdrew his right claw. Thick, dark red blood dripped from his fingertips, each drop hitting the bluestone slab and splashing up tiny blood flowers.
The intense pain, combined with the previous lack of oxygen, made him unable to stand steadily.
The Werewolf knelt on the ground, hands on the ground, mouth wide open trying to breathe, but all he could inhale was useless air.
The strenuous exercise depleted a large amount of Oxygen reserves, causing the body to convulse uncontrollably. The face turned from red to blue and then to purple, the eyeballs bulged, and a dying hoarse sound came from the throat.