The sound of bombers came the day after his finished the younger orphan's dorm. He hated the way the look of fear on their faces. He hated that he felt it just as much. There was no doubt that this fear and helplessness was the driving force that created Voldemort. He hadn't been this scared since facing down the basilisk. Memories of his life as Harry still slipped to the surface.
Sister Veria led the kids down into a basement that had previously only held forgotten furniture. It had been cleared out to use as an improvised bunker. His inherited memories didn't cover this portion of the church. He would have to apply protective runes there as well. The ones placed above should keep them protected, but he didn't want to leave it to chance.
He heard the planes pass overhead. The sound of heavy impacts scattered around the orphanage. They were all confused when the standard explosions didn't happen. There was something about it that didn't feel right. A skin curdling energy that spiked with every thump instead of an explosion.
"Stay here," Tom told Sister Veria. "Don't come out until I tell you. Even if the planes stop."
"What are you doing, Thomas?" The nun asked.
"Protecting the people I care about," Tom answered.
Tom slipped out of the basement then out into the streets. Now was the perfect time for his first real test of his armor.
"Vestis," Tom commanded.
The suit of armor slid smoothly into place. Tom couldn't stop smiling. He was a magical knight patrolling the streets of London. How could he not smile?
He tracked down the closest unexploded bomb easily enough. It was a couple of blocks West of the orphanage. The thing looked more like two bathtubs welded together to create a pod rather than a bomb. That strange energy grew in strength as he got closer.
How could a bomb have magical energy? His inherited knowledge didn't provide any assistance. Getting magic to work with technology was tricky. It was easier with machines that weren't complicated. The more complicated stuff was nearly impossible to integrate with magic. Tech of the current era would be pushing it.
His thoughts were interrupted as a seam along the side let out a hiss of compressed air. The piece facing out launched off at a surprising speed. A wave of thick miasma along with actual fog rolled out flooding over him. He was thankful that he had a helmet on or he'd probably be sick.
A clawed hand made of dark metal gripped the side of the tube. It looked like the hand had been roughly welded onto flesh. The other hand had been replaced by a long, serrated blade. What stepped out was a mixture of man and machine. A soldier, or what once had been one, had patches of metal fused with its skin. The face from the nose down had been replaced by a half-mask of metal.
He wasn't the most proficient when it came to history, however, he was certain he would have remembered soldiers of man fused with metal and powered by some sort of magic. Harry's memories were lacking greatly when it came to dark creatures. Tom's knowledge was expansive. Even then, he was coming up blank. The magic that fueled this thing didn't feel like anything he had ever encountered before.
It didn't speak. The thing growled when it saw him, then charged.
"Seco, Parma," Tom practically yelled.
A sword appeared in his right hand and a shield in his left. He braced for impact, raising his shield. The bladed hand skittered along the enchanted metal without leaving a scratch. It helped his confidence. He thrust his sword forward, slipping easily into the creatures' torso. It didn't react. He pulled back the sword and spun. His blade sliced through its neck only to stop halfway through.
The impact sent a jolt through his arm up to his shoulder. His enchanted blade should have sliced through most mundane materials. The clawed hand latched onto his armored forearm. He could feel a slight increase in pressure. Yet another sign the thing was infused with some kind of magic.
Tom slammed the shield into the side of its head. The creatures' head wobbled but held. Tom kicked the inside of its knee, loosening its grip on his sword arm. He slashed the sword aiming for the same spot as before. This time it cut through the reinforced bone sending its head rolling. Thankfully, it dropped like a sack of bricks.
He waited for a moment in case it got up. His moment of peace was interrupted by a scream in the direction of where another 'bomb' had landed. How many more were there?
Tom rushed toward the closest sound. He found a drop-pod wedged into the roof of a building. The lid had created a trench when it opened. Whatever creature had been inside was inside tearing the place apart. Thankfully, it looked like the residents had taken shelter elsewhere. He paused before the building unsure if it was a better idea to try to find them inside or wait for them to reach the street.
He didn't have time think. The creature burst through a window breaking the glass and taking a chunk of the wall with it. This one wasn't as bulky; its hands had been stripped to bone that shimmered with the tell-tale sign of enchantment. A metal jaw had replaced the original with a sharp smile.
The creature bound forward on its hands and feet like some sort of animal. Tom dodged to the side and stabbed his sword straight down. The blade sparked along its ribs without piercing. Its claws dug into the street, turning around faster than expected.
Tom yelled out in shock as the creatures' metal jaw clamped down onto his thigh. The armor held without an issue, but the unexpected attack caught him off guard. Tom brought his knee up sharply into its ribs on the uninjured side. The impact lifted it back onto its feet.
He slammed his shield forward eliciting a GONG as it hit the metal jaw. The creature leaped back giving enough space for it to take another leap at him.
"Sparus," Tom commanded.
The sword and shield vanished to be replaced with a spear. He stabbed forward taking away the space before it could spring. The spear tip pinned it backward into the street.
"Bombarda," Tom said.
The spell traveled down the spear and into the creature. It vanished in a burst of clashing magic. The lack of gore was an unexpected benefit. He dismissed the spear to focus if there was any clue to where the next creature had landed. Tom hadn't bothered to count the impacts when the planes flew over.
A burst of magic caught his attention. Tom turned toward it and started running. He stumbled slightly as he felt another sort of energy join the mix. Tom came to a halt as he discovered the scene of the next impact zone.
This creature was visually closer to the first one he had encountered. What he didn't expect was a squad of three soldiers fighting it. They wore uniforms that were a mixture of military and occult. Robes, cloaks, and pointed hats that were of the same design and fabric. Tom shook his head in a combination of disbelief and humor. The robes were normal enough, but the hats were just silly.
Further confusing things were the magic they were using. It wasn't one that he recognized. They used staves, broad movements, and chants. He watched the scene for a few seconds before he could act. Tom didn't recognize the chants or the feel of the magic.
The three were having trouble taking care of the creature. Their spells would hit without any visible effect.
"Sparus," Tom summoned his spear once more.
He hefted it, took aim, and launched it at the creature. It was so busy keeping track of the soldiers that it didn't notice the incoming projectile. The creature was pinned in place. Tom flicked his wrist drawing his wand. He moved it in a sudden, slashing movement.
"Stradat," Tom barked.
The spell was one that Antonin Dolohov liked to use. It caused internal damage, basically shredding the target from the inside out. The creature fell into scattered chunks. Tom summoned his spear back once the damage was done.
Tom stared at the trio who stared right back. He got a better look at them now that they weren't in the middle of chaos. Two were older men while the other was a woman probably no older than twenty. The men had neatly trimmed beards. One had some occult-ish looking tattoos on their face that Tom didn't recognize and the non-tattooed man was taller and spindly.. He didn't know if that meant they were gibberish or just obscure.
"Who the feck are you?" The tattooed man barked in a thick Scottish brogue.
Voldemort? No, that name needed to die. Tom didn't sound intimidating enough. Pendragon was an option, but he'd basically be proclaiming himself Arthur.
"Lancelot," He replied.
His voice came out slightly modulated due to the enchantments on the helmet.
"The feck you are," The man shot back.
"Who the feck are you?" Tom shot back mocking.
"Sergeant Robert Cummings, Royal Occult Division," The tattooed man answered.
"Knight of the Round Table?" The other guy asked; he sounded like a London local.
"You two?" Tom asked the others.
"Wes Hunnam," The man said. "Conscript."
Tom chuckled, "You?"
"Emma Reilly," The woman answered. "Royal Witch."
A closer look at the witch proved to be worth it. She was fit and had a girl-next-door look to her. A wisp of black hair had escaped from her hat during the fight. It floated in the residual magic in the air.
"How many have you encountered?" Tom asked. "This is the third I have come across."
"Third?" Sergeant Whatever His Name Was asked. "This is the first we've seen."
Tom shook his head, "I don't know if even bomb dropped was one of these things. All I know is that I've seen two others from the pods. Where did the next land?"
"There are other squads searching the city," Hunnam replied.
"Good to know," Tom said.
"Quiet," Sergeant snapped. "That is classified information."
Tom shrugged, "What about out there?"
"Jerrys don't have enough resources to launch a full-scale attack," Hunnam answered. "They're focusing on soft targets."
"Hunnam!" The Sergeant barked. "Shut your gob or I'll shut it for you."
Tom chuckled snapping of a lazy salute, "I'm going to look around for more."
He rushed off before they could say any more. A quick route around the area showed him the area was clear. He swapped to a meandering path back to the orphanage. Tom dismissed the armor before he reached it. Sister Veria was waiting for him at the front door. The adrenaline from the fight had worn away before he made it to orphanage.
"Thomas," Sister Veria looked him over. She brushed the dirt off of him. "You appear intact… and troubled."
"The Germans are using some sort of magic to twist their soldiers into monsters," Tom said with a shake of the head. "I don't want to say it's evil, magic is a blessing, like you have said. It made me want to be sick."
"And you took it upon yourself to fight it." Sister Veria stated.
Tom nodded, "I'm going to protect the people I care about."
Sister Veria patted his cheek, "You are a good boy, Thomas. The world has not been kind to you and yet you still shine."
"Remember that the next time you serve dessert," Tom teased.
Tom helped herd the younger kids to their dorm. He made sure that they knew they were protected with magic. The tension from encountering that miasma kept him awake. Tom stayed in the doorway, watching the younger orphans' sleep. He didn't know how long it took before he was tired enough.