Birmingham.
The British rail system was hardly known for its speed, and by the time they arrived, dusk had already settled.
Whoosh—
Stepping off the train, Tom and his entourage were immediately immersed in a sea of hats and trench coats, the air thick with perfume, cigarette smoke, and other, less identifiable odors. The train's whistle faded behind them.
Many took notice of their arrival.
The collection of distinctive figures—the striking beauty, the imposing aura, the bookish intellect, and the… unfortunate hair—made them stand out.
Furthermore, despite their number, they carried only a single, small leather suitcase, held by Harry. He could sense the stares, brief as they were. Though most onlookers were Muggles, a few gazes lingered with a knowing curiosity, likely fellow wizards from the train.
"Sir? Where do we proceed from here?" Hermione asked, consulting her pamphlets. Several wizards, dressed in Muggle attire, glanced their way before hurrying toward the station exit. They clearly had a destination in mind, perhaps a lead on Voldemort's remnant soul's location. Hermione considered following them, but ultimately, it was Tom's decision.
Tom, however, merely frowned, as if wrestling with a difficult choice.
Malfoy and Harry watched him silently, poised to act on his command. Cassandra and Nagini, however, knew Tom better. His hesitation had little to do with Voldemort's remnant soul. The true reason for his expression was likely…
"Hmm… decided," Tom announced, setting off in a random direction. "Let us explore the local cuisine. Hopefully, Birmingham has some specialties to offer."
"…"
Called it. Cassandra offered a wry smile.
…
The streetlights of Birmingham at night were dim. The meager illumination barely cast a shadow, let alone revealed a face, perfect for a knife fight.
And clearly, that was exactly what was brewing ahead.
"What's this? A gang war?" Harry asked, watching distant flashes of light and gunfire with detached interest.
"Honestly, we should have gone the other way," Hermione sighed. She had noticed the thinning crowds, a sure sign of trouble, but Tom clearly didn't care. They were just Sandmen, after all – Muggle criminals.
In fact, Tom seemed almost… intrigued by their presence.
"So, because it's Muggle gang territory, no other Muggles dare venture this way?"
"Although, Muggle gangs aren't the only residents around."
Faint traces of spellcasting drifted on the air, along with a commotion that Muggle firearms couldn't explain.
"Tom, should we investigate?" Nagini asked. She personally found gang wars boring, but Tom always enjoyed a good spectacle.
Before Tom could answer, Cassandra spoke, "No, they've spotted us."
"There! They're wizards too!"
Dozens of black-clad Muggles wielding machine guns somehow detected the magical fluctuations emanating from Cassandra and the others. A hail of bullets and shells erupted. Tom, calmly sucking on a candy cane, seemed utterly unfazed. He kept one hand in his pocket, his trench coat billowing slightly.
"No way… Are you kidding me?" One of the gangsters said.
The Muggle gangsters stared in disbelief. Many didn't even notice they had dropped their weapons, so stunned were they by the scene unfolding before them.
The bullets and shells abruptly halted, suspended in mid-air half a meter from Tom.
"It seems that didn't work," he said. Removing the half-eaten candy cane from his mouth, he pointed it at the gang. "Too bad."
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
The bullets and shells reversed course.
Instantly, blood sprayed, organs spilled, and violent explosions reduced bodies to charred fragments. The attacking gang members were annihilated in a heartbeat, their dark red blood forming a sizeable pool on the ground.
"Was that too much?" Hermione asked, drawing her wand and scanning the area, ready to cast an Obliviation Charm on any witnesses.
"Don't worry, in these situations, ordinary people don't show up at times like this," Harry said. He knelt to examine the remains of the gang members. What bothered him was that they seemed to have recognized them as wizards. Muggles typically didn't have reliable methods for detecting magic.
"These local gangs are so rude," Malfoy sneered. "They came at us with Muggle wands. They should have used the Dark Mark to summon all the local Death Eaters to tear them apart."
"Don't be so bloodthirsty, Draco," Tom chided, glancing behind them. "If you come out now, I might consider not using the Killing Curse."
"No!!!"
From behind piles of trash and overturned cars – remnants of the earlier skirmish – five middle-aged men emerged, all sporting fresh wounds.
"Are they the wizards the others were talking about?" Harry mused. He recognized them as some of those who had been observing him back at the station.
After a round of introductions and apologies toward Tom, they learned who these men were: wizards from Australia.
They were here for the same purpose as many others: to defeat Voldemort's "Evil Intent" and reap the rewards. They even claimed to have a "strategy guide."
Their mission had ended in disaster and near-death. The local gang, somehow armed with magical items, had ambushed them. The wizards were no match for the magic-nullifying weaponry. Of the original seven, only five remained. Only their considerable survival skills had kept them from being riddled with bullets.