Malphegor
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TWD: TW Ch. 05
🕑 Added 2026-01-25 16:48:27 +0000 UTCThe backstory had been prepared in advance, naturally. Lucien wasn't stupid. An eleven-year-old kid lugging around a heavy trunk in the apocalypse was going to draw attention.
Until he learned the Extension Charm, if he ever did, the wand and cloak could stay hidden on his person, but the spellbooks were too valuable to risk leaving behind. Which meant carrying them.
Better to control the narrative than let people create their own.
The orphan story worked perfectly. A kid clinging to his dead parents' "kind lie," believing he was a wizard, obsessing over fairy tales and toy wands, that was normal. And when he eventually did learn to properly store everything, he could claim he'd "grown up," set aside childish fantasies, and was moving forward with his parents' hopes in his heart.
It was a good plan. Shane had bought it completely. So why did his chest feel tight?
He shoved the feeling aside and quietly moved to the far corner of the office, crawling under the massive manager's desk. Even if Shane woke suddenly, he wouldn't immediately see what Lucien was doing.
He pulled out the flashlight he'd scavenged from a desk drawer earlier, adjusting it to its dimmest setting. The beam was barely enough to read by, but it would have to do. He propped it at an angle using a stack of books and opened The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
The Levitation Charm.
It was the first spell in the book, and according to the text, one of the most useful for everyday situations. If he could master this, he'd have proof that magic worked in this world. And that he wasn't deluding himself.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
He pictured Hermione from the films, the way she'd demonstrated for Ron. The book showed the same "swish and flick" wand movement.
He selected his target: a pen lying on the floor a few feet away.
Gripping his wand tightly, he raised it and focused. He lowered his voice. He couldn't risk being loud.
"Wingardium... Leviosa..."
He made the wand movement.
"Wingardium... Leviosa."
The pen didn't move.
He frowned. Okay. First attempts rarely worked in the books either. Harry had blown up his aunt, after all, before he'd ever done magic intentionally. This was normal.
He tried again.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Nothing again.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The pen sat there.
Lucien adjusted his grip on the wand. Maybe he was holding it wrong? The book didn't specify exact hand position, so he tried loosening his grip, tightening it, and changing the angle slightly.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Still nothing.
Was his pronunciation off? He went back to the book, checking the phonetic spelling. Wing-GAR-dee-um Leh-vee-OH-sa. Emphasis on the 'gar' and the 'oh.' He'd been doing that, hadn't he?
He tried again, exaggerating the stressed syllables.
"Wing-GAR-dee-um Levi-O-sa!"
The pen remained stubbornly earthbound.
Frustration crept in. Lucien switched targets, maybe the pen was too heavy? He aimed at a paperclip instead.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The paperclip didn't even twitch.
He tried a small pebble he'd picked up earlier. Then a piece of lint. And then back to the pen.
Nothing. Nothing. And... well... Nothing.
Time blurred. Minutes became an hour. An hour became two. The night deepened around him. His whispered incantations became a mantra, repeated so many times the words started to lose meaning.
"Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium Leviosa..."
His wand hand was cramping, his throat was dry, and his eyes burned from staring at the same spot on the floor.
And nothing was happening.
Why?
Why couldn't he do this one simple spell?
Was he saying it wrong? The book made it seem so straightforward, but maybe there was some trick, some technique that was only taught at Hogwarts. Maybe you needed a teacher to guide you through it the first time.
Or maybe he just didn't have the talent.
No. No, that couldn't be it.
He was a transmigrator. Unless the universe didn't care about transmigrator privileges.
Unless he was just average.
Or worse.
Lucien's jaw tightened. He forced the doubts away and tried again. This time he focused harder, pouring his will into the words, imagining the pen rising, floating, dancing through the air.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Nothing.
He tried speaking louder.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Nothing.
He tried moving the wand faster.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The pen sat there like it was glued to the floor.
He wanted to scream and throw the wand across the room. But he didn't. He just sat there in the dark, under a desk in a dead world, failing at the simplest spell in the book.
The darkness outside the windows gradually began to lighten. Dawn was coming. And he still hadn't managed to levitate a single object.
He slumped back against the desk leg. His head was pounding. Every muscle in his body ached from tension.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, too tired to care about volume anymore. "I should be able to do this. It's the first bloody spell in the book."
Maybe it was a mental block. Too much had happened today, yesterday, technically. His brain was probably too scrambled to focus properly on magic.
That had to be it. Once he'd rested, it would work. It definitely wasn't because he lacked talent.
Definitely not.
---
When Shane's internal clock dragged him back to consciousness, the first thing he saw was Lucien crawling out from under the desk, sporting dark circles under his eyes that looked like someone had punched him twice.
Shane sat up, rubbing his face. "You really didn't sleep at all?"
"Sorry." Lucien yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "I got absorbed in studying and lost track of time."
Shane felt something warm twist in his chest. The kid was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. He'd stayed up to let him rest.
"Here." He tossed Lucien his water bottle. "Drink, then get on that couch and close your eyes for a bit. I'm gonna check the situation and look for a way out."
"Shane?"
He turned. Lucien was watching him.
"When you go out, don't barricade the door behind you."
Shane frowned. "That's not safe—"
"Just hear me out. If you block the door from outside and something breaks through downstairs, or if danger comes from up here, I'll be trapped."
He had a point.
"Just close it normally," Lucien continued. "If I hear walkers, I can push furniture against it from inside. But if I need to leave, I won't be stuck."
Shane studied the kid for a moment.
"Alright. But you lock it as soon as I'm out, and you don't open it for anyone but me. Got it?"
"Got it."
Together, they dragged the sofa away from the door and set it aside.
Shane moved to the door, paused with his hand on the knob. "If something happens and I don't come back, you take your stuff and you run. Don't wait for me."
"You'll come back."
"Yeah, I will."
He slipped out into the hallway, moving quietly. Behind him, he heard the soft click of the door lock engaging.
---
The moment Shane's footsteps faded down the hallway, Lucien's exhaustion evaporated. The magic practice had been a bust, but he had another test to run. One that was significantly more dangerous but potentially far more valuable.
The Invisibility Cloak.
He'd assumed it would work. He needed to know for certain. If the cloak could fool the walkers, it would be the single most valuable survival tool he had. It would mean he could move through the city unseen, scavenge supplies, escape danger.
It would mean he didn't have to rely entirely on others to keep him alive.
He pulled the cloak from his trunk. If it didn't work... But he had to know. He draped the cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood up.
The effect was disconcerting. He looked down and saw nothing. Even his clothes had vanished beneath the cloak's folds.
Moving as quietly as possible, he crept to the office door and eased it open. The hallway was empty. He made his way to the stairwell. The first floor came into view. And so did the walkers.
There were at least seven or eight of them, shambling aimlessly through the lobby. Some were clustered near the windows, still drawn by whatever instinct had brought them here last night. Others wandered in circles.
His mouth went dry. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, maybe five meters from the nearest walker.
The walker hadn't noticed him.
None of them had.
Slowly, he moved closer. The walker's milky eyes swept across the space where he stood, but there was no reaction.
He was invisible to them.
The relief was almost overwhelming. But Lucien forced himself to keep testing. He needed to know the limits. Visual was covered... what about smell? Sound? Movement?
He spotted the blood-smeared front door. One of the windows had a broken section, just big enough to fit an arm through.
A stupid idea formed in his mind.
If he reached through while wearing the cloak, would they sense it? Or would even his exposed limb be invisible to them?
His rational mind was screaming that this was insane. But uncertainty was more dangerous than risk. He needed to know.
He moved toward the window. The nearest walker was maybe two meters away, facing the door. He positioned himself beside the broken window, took a deep breath, and slowly extended his arm through the gap.
His hand emerged from beneath the cloak, becoming visible the instant it passed the fabric's edge.
The walker's head snapped toward him.
His heart stopped.
The thing let out a low, rattling hiss, its dead eyes fixing on the spot where his hand protruded. Other walkers nearby started to react.
He yanked his arm back inside the cloak.
Instantly, the walkers calmed. Their heads swiveled, searching, but finding nothing. The one that had been staring directly at him stood there for a moment longer, then slowly turned away, losing interest.
The cloak hid sight but not exposure. If any part of him left its protection, the walkers could see it.
He took a moment to let his racing heart slow, then continued his tests. He scuffed his foot against the floor.
The nearest walker's head tilted. It shambled toward the sound, but when it reached the spot, it just stood there. After a moment, it wandered off again.
So they could hear. But without a visual to lock onto, they couldn't track him effectively.
Lucien risked a bolder test. He knocked lightly on the glass door.
Tap tap.
Multiple walkers turned toward the sound. One pressed its face against the glass, but they didn't try to break through.
After a few seconds, they drifted away.
The cloak worked. Better than he'd hoped. As long as he stayed completely covered and moved quietly, he was a ghost.
Which left one final question.
What about smell?
