Harry Potter : Bloodraven

Da-da-da-da-da-da!

Da-da-da-da—Click. Click.

Bucky Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, fired round after round at the mysterious figure that had appeared out of nowhere, interrupting his mission.

He was an assassin, and tonight's objective was clear to him and that was to eliminate the Stark couple.

Anything or anyone that stood in his way would simply be added to the list, and he had no interest in engaging in dialogue to find out their identity.

That was how he had always operated. It was his instinct—what he was, in plain terms, programmed to do.

But for the first time, he realized tonight's objective might be more difficult to achieve than his previous, flawlessly executed missions. After emptying two full magazines, his state-of-the-art, modified weapons had proven useless, and his target turned out to be completely unaffected.

Still, he didn't flinch. Even as the bullets froze midair—suspended by some unseen force—before clattering harmlessly to the ground, he remained unfazed.

After all, as an agent trained to eliminate only the deadliest threats to his organization, he had more or less encountered people with special abilities. And he had dealt with them as well.

So without a second thought, he discarded the now emptied automatic rifle, then drew his most comfortable pistol, and fired again.

Bam! Bam!

This time, he moved as he fired, taking a step with each shot, closing the distance between them. He refused to believe that whatever barrier protected the figure could hold indefinitely. More importantly, once he got close enough, he could let his enhanced physique and mastered combat techniques speak for themselves.

---

Meanwhile, the Stark couple sat frozen beside the wrecked car, watching the violence unfold in disbelief.

Maria clutched the fabric of her coat tightly, flinching with every gunshot, fear gripping her to the core.

Although she was the wife of one of the richest and most influential men in the world, she had never experienced anything like this. She had always been protected, living in a sanctuary-like space no matter where she was.

Until tonight.

Tonight, she and her husband had decided to go out without their usual security detail—a decision that now felt like a terrible mistake.

Howard, however, remained more restrained. Not calm, but not entirely shocked either. He had seen and even experienced situations—not quite like this, but similar.

So, rather than panic, his expression was more composed, and his mind was already working on a plan for escape.

Of the two men, he only knew Sergeant Barnes—and unfortunately, that was the one trying to kill him and his wife. The other, a complete unknown, had somehow saved them, but he had no idea who this person was or what they wanted.

He would much rather be far, far away from both of them.

...

BAM! BAM! BAM!

A consecutive bangs of gunfire filled the night, but the result was the same. Every single bullet came to a dead stop, frozen in place before clattering harmlessly to the ground.

Barnes did not show any suprise. Not even frustration. He simply emptied the rest of the magazine as he inched closer and closer to the man.

Click.

The handgun turned dry as well, the last round spent, but he was now nearly an arm's length away from the figure.

Then, he heard it—a low chuckle.

"That was disappointing."

The voice was smooth yet unnervingly distorted, like two voices speaking at once—one human, the other… something else.

"Any other tricks, Mr. Winter Soldier?"

Without a change in expression, Bucky Barnes discarded the pistol without a second thought and reached into his combat suit with precise, unhesitating movements.

A glint of steel caught the dim moonlight as he drew two serrated combat knives.

Barnes shifted into a low stance, the knives gripped in a reverse hold. His movements were smooth, like a machine, programmed for one thing and one thing only.

"Interesting..." the figure said, tilting his head slightly as if intrigued. In a slow, deliberate voice, he murmured, "Humor me, then..."

Barnes didn't need a second invitation. He lunged.

His speed was incredible—far beyond that of a normal human. The first blade swept low, aiming for the figure's midsection.

Miss.

The figure shifted just enough to let the blade pass through empty air.

Barnes pivoted, slashing upward with the second knife.

Miss.

A simple tilt of the head and the attack sailed past, cutting through nothing.

Without breaking rhythm, Barnes launched a rapid series of attacks—each movement flowing into the next, each strike aimed at a vital point. The knives danced, their serrated edges glinting as they sliced through the air with deadly precision.

Miss. Miss. Miss.

The figure moved like a shadow, effortless, smooth. It wasn't just speed—it was as if he already knew where each attack would land before it even started.

Barnes spun, attempting a brutal roundhouse kick.

The figure leaned back just enough for the boot to pass an inch from his face.

Barnes adjusted mid-motion, reversing his momentum into a downward slash with his knife.

CLANG!

The knife struck something solid—no, the figure had caught it. Or rather, pinched the edge of the blade between two bare fingers, stopping it just before it could slash his aorta.

For the first time, Barnes hesitated.

The figure's unseen eyes seemed to bore into him. Then, with eerie calm, he whispered, "Boring..."

In a blur, the figure moved.

THWACK!

An open palm struck Barnes' wrist, disarming one knife.

THUD!

A precise strike to the chest sent Barnes skidding backward, boots scraping against the concrete road.

The Winter Soldier straightened, gripping his remaining knife. He didn't breathe heavily, didn't react with anger or frustration.

Like a machine, he simply recalibrated.

The figure chuckled again. "I'm sorry, but it seems I may have overestimated the strength of a super soldier. Or maybe… my physique is simply on a different level now."

Barnes lunged, ignoring the ridicule—but then, his body froze mid-step.

"Sleep now, soldier. When you wake, your nightmare ends... and your real mission begins."

The distorted voice echoed as if whispered directly into his ear.

Then… nothing.

His mind went blank, and his body collapsed, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Silence.

---

"Is it... is it over?"

Maria asked shakily, watching the man who had just tried to kill them collapse to the ground.

Howard didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the mysterious figure, watching as he turned toward them and began walking forward with slow, deliberate steps.

There was something deeply unsettling about those blood-red eyes. They had just been saved, and yet, looking into them, Howard felt anything but safe. His instincts flared, and without thinking, he pulled Maria closer.

Step.

Step.

"Howard Anthony Walter Stark and Maria Collins Carbonell Stark. You need not be wary of me… yet."

Howard gulped. Yet? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And why use his full name? The only time he ever heard his full name was when Maria was mad at him.

"Thank you... Mr.?" He suppressed his unease, trying to maintain a composed front. "For saving my wife and me. When I get home, I promise to reward you generou—"

His words trailed off, his eyes widening as the figure raised a single finger and pointed it at them.

"Wait. Please don't kill us—"

He tensed, instinctively shielding Maria, but before he could react further, a soft glow enveloped them both.

A wave of warmth spread through his body. It wasn't painful—it was… comforting. He felt the tension in his muscles ease, the stinging from his wounds fade. He glanced down at his hands, watching as the bruises and scrapes disappeared before his very eyes.

"What in the…"

The words barely left his lips before the figure spoke again.

"You will answer my questions truthfully. No lies. No attempts to steer away from them."

Howard's mind raced, struggling to process the situation. But he was a man who adapted quickly, and he gave a curt nod.

"Stand. You are both healed... more or less."

Howard hesitated but ultimately complied. What choice did he have? He then helped Maria to her feet, and now they stood face to face with their mysterious savior—or perhaps their captor.

"My first question," he heard the figure ask in that voice which sound nothing like a human at all. "Who is Sergeant Bucky Barnes to you?"

But he didn't have the nerve to comment on that, except to obediently answer the question.

"Bucky?" He glanced at the unconscious man on the ground before turning back to the figure. "Once a friend. A long time ago. I thought he had died..." He paused, thinking for a moment before adding, "He was a good friend of mine. We were acquainted through Rogers."

The figure gave a slight nod before speaking again.

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Author's Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 137 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic