HP: The Wizard Slayer

A young boy stood in the shadow of the towering trees, his dark hair a cascade of black silk falling across his forehead, framing sharp, angular features far too refined for someone his age.

His olive-toned skin glistened faintly under the dappled sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above, and his slightly muscular frame hinted at a strength beyond his years. He was good-looking—striking, even—but there was a feral intensity in his presence, as though he didn't quite belong in the peaceful stillness of the forest.

In his hand, he held a katana. Its polished blade shimmered, reflecting the sunlight as it rested gently against his shoulder. His eyes were closed, thick lashes brushing against his cheeks, as he tilted his head slightly, listening—not to the silence, but to the subtle disturbances within it. The rustle of leaves. The faint, high-pitched giggles flitting from tree to tree.

Pixies.

His lips curled into a faint smirk. A single breath escaped him, long and controlled, before he snapped his eyes open, revealing emerald-green irises that glowed with predatory focus. Without hesitation, he leaped forward, the katana cutting through the air like a streak of silver lightning.

The first pixie didn't even have time to react. Its glowing, winged body exploded in a flurry of sparks as the blade cleaved clean through it.

A second darted toward him from above, but the boy crouched low, pivoting sharply. His hand shot out to grip the trunk of a nearby tree, and with a burst of strength, he launched himself upward. His feet met the rough bark halfway up, and he kicked off with a fierce grunt, twisting in midair to slash down at another pixie as it buzzed toward him.

The forest became a symphony of chaos. The boy's blade whistled as it sliced through the air, striking with unerring precision. Pixies swarmed around him, their tiny shrieks of fury and fear filling the clearing.

One dove toward his back, but he twisted his body in a way that seemed impossible for someone so young. He landed in a crouch, then sprang upward again, his katana carving a deadly arc.

Another pixie burst into golden dust.

He darted between the trees like a shadow, using the trunks to propel himself forward or to feint and confuse his foes. At one point, he grabbed a low-hanging branch and swung himself upward, slashing downward at the group beneath him as he landed. The remaining pixies hesitated, their frenetic movements faltering as they realized they were no match for the boy.

With a final leap, he landed in the center of the clearing, his katana a blur as it swept through the last two pixies. Their glowing forms shattered into faint motes of light that drifted to the ground.

The boy stood still, the forest suddenly silent once more. His breathing was steady, his expression calm, as if the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a passing exercise.

Slowly, he raised the katana and wiped its blade on the hem of his tunic. The pristine steel caught the sunlight one last time before he sheathed it in a single, fluid motion.

The faint sound of leaves rustling filled the air once again, a gentle reminder of the world that continued around him. The boy's lips quirked into a faint grin, the satisfaction of a clean kill lingering for a moment. But it didn't last. The grin faltered, fading into a frown as his gaze swept over the clearing.

As Toji looked over the clearing, he picked up a bow and an arrow from the bag at his feet. With practiced ease, he nocked the arrow, drew the string, and aimed at a shadowy figure in the distance.

The arrow shot forward with deadly precision, but before it could hit its mark, a shimmering barrier materialized in front of the figure.

"Protego!"

The arrow clattered harmlessly to the ground, and the figure stepped out from his hiding spot.

"Ah, my dear Toji," the man drawled, his voice laced with mocking amusement with his wand waving menacingly at Toji. "It's great to see you've been keeping up your little circus act. Impressive aim, as always. But you know, people might get the wrong idea if you attack your future clan leader all willy nilly."

"I apologize, I mistook your for an exteremley annoying and pesky pixie." Toji bowed his head slightly as if it were an inconvenience.

The speaker was tall and painfully thin, his pale skin almost translucent under the dim sunlight. His long, jet-black hair cascaded down his back, tangled and unkempt, framing a gaunt face with sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes that gleamed with malice.

A twisted grin split his face, giving him the unsettling air of a snake coiled and ready to strike.

"What's wrong? Not going to welcome your brother properly?" the man asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he spread his arms theatrically.

Toji's response was a roll of his eyes.

"Despite your lack of enthusiasm, I must still thank you," the man continued, his voice softening into a venomous hiss. "I thank you for being such a spectacular failure. Who knew? Even the mighty Fushiguro clan would rather bring back their banished son than hand it all over to a squib!"

The words were spoken with such biting venom that they hung in the air like a poison.

Toji paused mid-step, his back still to his brother. He glanced lazily over his shoulder, his expression unreadable, his voice calm and flat. "Are you done?"

The man's grin widened, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. "Of course. Don't let me stop you," he said, waving his hand dismissively. He turned to walk away, his mocking laughter echoing through the clearing.

But as the grin faded from his face, his true feelings emerged. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a snarl as he muttered under his breath, "Fucking genius… yeah right."

The tension lingered in the air, as Toji observed his brother walking away his grip tightening around the bow ready to fire if needed but luckily things didn't escalate further.

Toji walked deeper into the forest, his steps steady but unhurried. The dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves began to fade as he emerged into a clearing—a vast field of cherry blossoms. The pink petals fluttered lazily in the breeze, but Toji didn't spare the serene sight more than a fleeting glance.

As he moved forward, the idyllic scenery shimmered faintly, like ripples across a pond, before dissolving completely. The necklace resting against his chest glowed faintly, dispelling the illusion that shielded the headquarters of the Fushiguro clan from prying eyes.

Calling it a "clan" didn't do it justice. This place wasn't just a secluded hideaway for wizards bearing the Fushiguro name—it was a self-sustaining village.

Stretching before him was a bustling market, teeming with life. Rows of colorful stalls lined the cobblestone streets, selling everything from rare magical artifacts to freshly brewed potions. The air was thick with the lively hum of chatter, bartering, and the occasional outburst of laughter.

Hundreds of wizards lived and worked within the boundaries of the clan's headquarters. The marketplace was one of the clan's many enterprises, renowned across the wizarding world for its quality goods. Today, it was particularly lively, brimming with young wizards dragging their parents from shop to shop in preparation for the upcoming school year.

As Toji passed, guards stationed at their posts glanced at him. One gave a faint snort of amusement before turning away. Toji caught the sound and let a faint smirk cross his lips.

Their reactions weren't what they used to be—no longer brimming with enthuiasm and respect.

After navigating the busy streets, Toji finally reached the imposing gates of the Fushiguro clan's main estate. The massive wooden doors, engraved with intricate runes, towered before him. The runes made sure strangers wouldn't be able to enter no matter what.

But instead of walking through them, he turned sharply to the side, heading toward a more humble dwelling nearby.

It was a small, thatched wooden house, unassuming and tucked away in a quieter corner of the village. Sliding open the door, he stepped inside, the faint creak of wood underfoot greeting him. The hut smelled faintly of mildew, its walls warped from years of neglect. A single cracked window let in a feeble shaft of moonlight, illuminating the threadbare mattress that served as his bed.

With a practiced motion, he tossed his bag and his katana carelessly onto the floor landing in a heap.

Without bothering to remove his boots, he flopped onto the worn-out mattress in the corner of the room, the thin fabric barely cushioning the impact. His body sank into the familiar, uncomfortable surface as he exhaled heavily.

"Talk about an annoying ass reincarnation..." he muttered, one arm draped over his eyes to block out the light. His words hung in the still air, heavy with exasperation, but a small flicker of amusement tugged at his lips.

Even in his annoyance, Toji couldn't deny the strange, chaotic humor of it all.