Got Hisoka template in Harry Potter World - Chapter 20
Chapter 20: The Devil’s Playground
The dust settled slowly in the ruined courtyard, drifting through shafts of pale moonlight like ash after a fire. Jack Fletcher stood with his back against the cold stone wall, breathing hard. His right hand hung limp at his side, the knuckles split open and oozing blood between swollen fingers. Three ribs on his left side screamed with every inhale – definitely broken.
Across the shattered flagstones, the two remaining trolls circled warily. The largest one, its shoulder bent at an unnatural angle from its companion’s misplaced club strike, snorted hot breath through flared nostrils. The stench of rotting meat and wet fur clung thick in the air.
Jack spat a glob of blood onto the stones and grinned.
“Getting tired already?” he taunted, pushing off from the wall. His golden aura flickered around him like candlelight in a draft, weaker now but still burning.
Trolls didn’t understand his words, but they recognized the challenge in his stance. The larger one bellowed, slamming its good fist against its chest in a thunderous boom that echoed through the courtyard.
Draco’s Perspective:
From their hiding place behind a half-crumbled pillar, Draco Malfoy’s fingers dug into the stone hard enough to scrape his nails. His heart pounded so loudly he feared the trolls might hear it.
This is insane, he thought, watching Jack sway lightly on his feet despite his injuries. Absolutely barking mad. That punch earlier should have turned him to paste. Why is he still standing? Why is he still smiling like that?
The smaller troll lunged first, its club whistling through the air in a wide, telegraphed arc. Jack didn’t retreat. Instead, he stepped inside the swing, so close Draco could see the individual wiry hairs on the beast’s arm.
Theodore’s Perspective:
Theo Nott’s analytical mind raced as he watched the exchange. He’s not just dodging – he’s reading their movements before they make them. That last hit taught him something. He’s adapting.
Jack’s left hand shot out, glowing faintly golden as it connected with the troll’s elbow joint. There was a sickening pop as the limb hyperextended backwards. The beast howled, dropping its club to clutch at the injury.
“There we go,” Jack murmured, dancing back just as the larger troll’s fist cratered the ground where he’d stood moments before. “Now we’re having fun.”
Gemma’s Perspective:
Gemma Farley’s grip on Draco’s shoulder had gone slack, her prefect badge glinting dully in the moonlight. Her mind whirled with conflicting impulses – duty demanded she drag these reckless first-years to safety, but something primal kept her rooted to the spot, watching.
No spells. No wand. Just… hands. And that magic. Since when can wizards fight like this?
A pained gasp drew her attention back to the fight. Jack had misjudged a dodge, catching a glancing blow from the larger troll’s backhand across his ribs. He skidded across the broken stones, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
“Fuck,” Jack hissed through gritted teeth, rolling to his knees. He probed his side gingerly, fingers coming away red. That’s at least two more ribs.
The trolls advanced, sensing weakness.
Jack’s laughter rang out, high and wild and utterly inappropriate for the situation. “Alright, alright! You got me! Good hit!”
He pushed himself up, swaying slightly before finding his footing. His aura flared brighter for a moment, then stabilized at a lower intensity.
Running low, Jack realized. The adrenaline was fading, and with it, his energy reserves. Time to end this.
The smaller troll, still cradling its injured arm, made the mistake of stepping too close. Jack’s foot lashed out in a vicious kick to its kneecap. Bone shattered with an audible crack. As the beast howled and stumbled, Jack pivoted, driving his elbow into its temple with every ounce of remaining aura behind it.
The troll’s eyes rolled back as it collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
One left.
The largest troll hesitated, its tiny brain struggling to process how its companions had fallen. Jack didn’t give it time to think.
He charged.
Dumbledore’s Perspective:
Through the swirling mists of the Pensieve, Albus Dumbledore watched with uncharacteristic tension in his shoulders. The silver memory showed Jack Fletcher moving with predatory grace despite his injuries, his every motion calculated to inflict maximum damage with minimal energy expenditure.
“Remarkable,” murmured the portrait of Dilys Derwent. “He fights like a man half his age and twice his experience.”
Dumbledore’s fingers steepled beneath his chin. “No,” he corrected softly. “He fights like someone who’s done this many times before – just not in this body.”
Back in the courtyard, Jack ducked beneath the final troll’s wild swing and drove two fingers into its throat. The beast gagged, momentarily stunned.
It was all the opening he needed.
Jack’s palm struck the troll’s chin in a perfect uppercut, his remaining aura flaring bright for one final burst of power. The massive head snapped back with a crack that echoed off the walls, and the troll toppled backwards like a felled oak, shaking the ground with its impact.
Silence.
Jack stood amidst the destruction, breathing hard. His right hand hung useless, his robes were torn and bloody, and his ribs screamed with every breath.
And he was disappointed.
“That’s it?” he muttered, nudging the unconscious troll with his foot. “I was just getting warmed up.”
The adrenaline faded, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Jack swayed on his feet, suddenly aware of just how much damage he’d taken. His vision swam at the edges.
Right. Hospital wing.
As he turned to leave, his gaze caught on three stunned faces peering from behind a broken pillar. Draco’s mouth hung open. Theo’s eyes burned with something between awe and calculation. Gemma looked like she was reconsidering every life choice that led her to this moment.
Jack gave them a bloody grin and a lazy salute with his good hand before limping toward the castle proper.
Behind him, the first rays of dawn painted the ruined courtyard in pale gold, illuminating the destruction – three massive trolls, one dead, two unconscious, and not a single spell cast to defeat them.
Somewhere in the shadows, a certain poltergeist chuckled and vanished into the walls.