MARVEL-THE MULTIVERSE TRADER

For a moment, the sharp banter and suspicion in the air dimmed. The brutal reality of the scene settled in like an unwelcome fog — blood on the grass, scorch marks across the lawn, and the labored, pained breathing of a Muggle man who'd barely escaped death.

Nova let out a quiet sigh and gave a crooked, lopsided half-smile.

"Let's talk about your would-be assassins later," he murmured, brushing the air dismissively. "Right now, you've got a dad to look after."

Without waiting for a reply, he strolled toward the fallen man and the kneeling woman, his pace unhurried, boots crunching against gravel. Hermione instinctively moved to follow, her knuckles white around her wand, nerves still taut as a wire.

As Nova reached Mrs. Granger, he let his gaze wander — even bloodstained and wild-eyed with fear, the woman was absolutely stunning up close. The kind of gorgeous that made men forget what they were saying mid-sentence.

Damn, Potter is gonna be one lucky bastard, if Hermione is gonna look this sexy in future.

His eyes lingered far longer than necessary, drifting from the tear-streaked face down to where the thin, rumpled nightgown clung to generous curves and long, toned legs.

And Hermione noticed.

Her eyes darted to him, saw exactly where his gaze had settled, and her face twisted in a mixture of exhausted disbelief and sharp irritation. Without a word, she stepped forward — and very deliberately stomped down on Nova's foot.

Hard.

Nova blinked, a flicker of surprise breaking his smug grin. He glanced down, then up at her, one brow arching in amusement.

"Touchy, aren't we?" he muttered under his breath, though there was no real heat in it.

Hermione just scowled, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Nova sighed, shaking his head as though put-upon by unreasonable children, and finally focused on the task at hand. With a flick of his wand, soft golden diagnostic light passed over Mr. Granger.

He murmured to Mrs. Granger, voice smooth again. " A bad knock to the head, couple cracked ribs, internal bruising. Painful, but he'll live."

The woman let out a trembling sob of relief, her fingers tightening around her husband's limp hand as if she could anchor him back to life through sheer force of will.

Nova gave her a small, almost pitying smile before continuing, his tone turning grave.

"And you should be thankful he wasn't bitten. A werewolf's curse is barely survivable for wizards, let alone Muggles. Most… well, almost all Muggles die from the transformation. It's not a clean death either."

He left the rest unsaid, but the weight of it lingered in the air.

Hermione paled even further, swallowing hard as she reached instinctively for her mother's shoulder. Harry's face was tight, his fists clenching uselessly at his sides.

Nova let out a sigh, glancing around the bloodstained lawn and the broken, scorched remains of the fight. "We need to move him. It's not safe out here."

Mrs. Granger's voice wavered, still thick with shock. "The hospital… we should take him to—"

Nova's expression sharpened immediately. He cut her off with a firm shake of his head.

"No. Bad idea. You were attacked in your own home tonight. Not by accident, and not by wild beasts that just happened to wander into a Muggle neighborhood."

He straightened, eyes sweeping the shattered wards and scorched grass.

"Someone else was here — someone who put temporary containment wards around this street. It's deliberate and well planned attack. Those werewolves weren't working alone. And if whoever did this has enough pull to mask an underage magic alert and hold back Ministry Aurors for this long… you can bet they have eyes on nearby hospitals too."

That hit like a curse.

Hermione's breath hitched audibly. She exchanged a stricken look with Harry, both of them processing the implications in dawning horror.

Nova continued, tone edged like a blade in velvet. "Honestly, it's risky if you stay here too. If someone's already gone this far, they won't stop until they finish what they started."

A heavy, uneasy silence fell over the group.

Mrs. Granger clutched her husband's hand tighter. Hermione's knuckles went white around her wand. Even Harry, brave as ever, shifted closer to Hermione like the fourteen-year-old boy he still was under all the resolve.

Nova let them stew in it a moment longer before casually offering, "Or, you can come to my place."

Predictably, both teens tensed at once. Mrs. Granger stiffened too, fresh wariness flickering across her tear-streaked face. No one said a word, but Nova could feel the storm of suspicion building in the air like a gathering squall.

He gave a crooked, almost amused grin, raising both hands in a disarming gesture.

"Relax. If I'd wanted to harm you, you'd already be dead."

He paused, then added with a careless shrug, "Or worse — depending on how creative I felt."

That earned a sharp glare from Hermione, but the tension in the air thinned just enough for them to hear themselves breathe again.

Mrs. Granger, visibly torn between caution and desperation, looked down at her husband's still-unconscious form, then back to Nova, searching his face for any sign of duplicity. Hermione kept one hand tight on her wand, eyes narrowed.

Harry, to his credit, finally spoke up.

"Why would you help us?"

Nova sighed theatrically, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I was out on a night stroll. I sensed temporary wards over a Muggle neighborhood — which is illegal as hell, by the way — and I figured something nasty was brewing. When I saw a bunch of kids tossing spells and no Ministry showing up, I knew someone was screwing with the alert system. And when you toss in seven werewolves, well… even I'm not heartless enough to walk away from that kind of slaughter."

He let the words settle, his expression cooling. "You're not safe here, and you won't be safe in a hospital. If you want your dad alive by morning, you come with me. Simple as that."

The logic was undeniable, and despite their suspicion, it made sick, desperate sense.

After a heavy beat of silence, Mrs. Granger gave a hesitant nod. Hermione looked to Harry, who, after a long exhale, jerked his chin in reluctant agreement.

Nova's grin returned. "Smart choice."

With a flourish, he pulled out the Demon Dweller Sword — entirely unnecessary for what he was about to do, but as always, appearances mattered.

He made a lazy slash through the air, the blade slicing open a shimmering violet-blue portal, swirling with light and crackling softly in the night air.

The portal revealed a dark clearing under a canopy of trees and stars — the discreet spot outside the Sanctum's buried vault.

He could have Apparated them straight inside, of course, but the trunk's layered wards only permitted him to bypass them through direct space-magic. Others had to enter via the physical gateway, for security reasons. And let's be honest… slicing open reality with a massive sword was just so much cooler.

Nova gestured toward the swirling rift.

"Alright. Through here. Stay close, don't touch anything on the other side until I tell you. Questions later."

Nova gestured toward the swirling rift.

"Alright. Through here. Stay close, don't touch anything on the other side until I tell you. Questions later."

The portal shimmered in the air, a rippling wall of violet-blue light, flickering like liquid glass.

For a moment, no one moved.

Hermione stared at it, her brow furrowing, lips parted in stunned disbelief. This wasn't a Portkey. This wasn't Apparition. This was… something else.

"That's… that's spatial manipulation," she murmured under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. Her logical mind tried, and failed, to reconcile what she was seeing with what was supposed to be possible. It didn't make sense. It shouldn't exist. Yet it was right in front of her, humming quietly, as real as the blood on her father's face.

Beside her, Harry's eyes widened, and for a long second he said nothing. Then a slow, awed curse slipped out.

"Bloody hell."

Mrs. Granger gripped her husband tighter, pulling him protectively closer to her chest. Her eyes flicked between the impossible rift and Nova's relaxed, almost smug expression. She looked pale, shaken to her core, but her concern for her husband kept her rooted.

"What… what is that?" she asked in a low, trembling voice.

Nova smiled lazily.

"Shortcut. Unless you'd rather stick around for a second round of whatever bastard sent those wolves. I'm sure he's still watching." He gestured carelessly at the broken yard, the blood, the shattered fence.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would've done it back there. I'm offering you the only way out of this mess right now."

Hermione's eyes stayed fixed on the rift, mind racing through half a dozen objections, counterarguments, risks — but in the end, none of them mattered. Her father needed help, and this man had saved their lives. Her hand tightened around her wand.

"Alright."

Harry glanced at her, gave a small, tense nod.

"We go."

Nova gave a crooked grin.

"Good choice."

He moved to Mrs. Granger's side, effortlessly helping support Mr. Granger's weight. The man groaned faintly but didn't wake. Hermione instinctively stepped closer, staying between Nova and her mum as she shot him a sharp look — which Nova pointedly ignored.

The swirling light of the portal crackled softly as they approached. The air around it shimmered, sending an odd tingle over their skin.

As she drew near, Hermione's stomach twisted. Logic screamed at her to stop, to demand answers, but instinct — cold and terrified — pushed her on.

She risked one last glance back at their ruined, bloodstained front garden, then swallowed and stepped through after them.

x------x

CHAPTER:- [59- GHOSTFREAK] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON.

https://www.patreon.com/Ghost_0007?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator