Hp: a job in the multiverse

[Moonpie_99]

My attempt to add one more Harry Potter into all the different Harrys in the multiverse…

A Harry Potter SI? FanFiction

—————————

My name is… It doesn't matter; names are for the living, and I'm finally dead…

Hahahaha, finally!!…

I was so sick of being hooked to machines and poked by motherf*cking crazy scientists who thought my body somehow held the secret to life without a disease.

I mean, sure, I was born very sick, like the doctors predicted my death minutes after I was born kind of sick, but I didn't die… and then I went on and contracted more viruses and diseases along the way and still didn't die—still I wasn't healthy either!!!

I was f*king bedridden my whole life, but who can reason with crazy? Not me, that's for sure…

By the time I died, I probably had every f*cking disease known to man in my body, and those crazy motherf*kers still couldn't figure out what was keeping me from dying…

Incompetent motherf*ckers!!!!…

I wish they all die in the most horrific way possible…

.

Anyway, where am I??

I looked around and began to notice that I can move… and somehow I can see 360° and that shouldn't be possible—No horizon, no up or down—just endless void pressing against my senses like static

It's very weird, you know? Being able to move after a lifetime of not knowing how or what it feels like. My limbs—if I even have limbs—hum with a lightness I've never felt

It's a very contradictory feeling…

Anyhow, let's stop thinking and start moving, hahahahahaha.

This is amazing!!!

Being able to see, move, and feel something other than pain.

It's exciting?

Hmmm? Maybe that's what I'm feeling now; I mean, besides this liberating sensation, which in my humble opinion is what freedom feels like—Or maybe it's just the absence of needles jabbing my veins— I don't know and I don't care either.

After moving, laughing, crying, maybe a little cursing, and madness, which lasted for a little while, I started to calm down…

Okay, maybe not "a little," but you try releasing 16? or maybe 17 years of pent-up, jumbled, and all-the-way fu*ked-up emotions and you'll see what happens. You can't? Then Imagine a dam breaking, but the water's made of screams… that's the most apt description I can come up with at the moment…

Now that I have calmed down enough, I began to actually think about where I am? And let me tell you… I Don't Have The Slightest Idea.

I mean, I can't even comprehend what this place is, let alone actually knowing where or what this place is…

For starters, it's dark, but at the same time it's not.

Oh yes, time. There's no time here.

Are you asking how I know? Well, I don't; I can just tell.

Here, in this place? No time, space, or physical law exists, or maybe just the ones I'm familiar with don't.

I can hear your disbelief from here, but think about it.

Every being that has existed inside these laws for long enough can just tell they are there no matter what, but here, I just can't.

So I just continued moving somewhere?? I mean, there's no point in sitting still, plus now that I can move ^~^, I am not staying still for even a little…

I don't know how long I have been moving, but I didn't mind, so when I felt something coming my way.
How? I don't know—instinct maybe.

Anyhow, when I felt it coming my way, I too moved toward it. Toward the first flicker of—something—in this nothingness…

Perhaps I would find out what this void is??…

Ugh!!!!! Pain!!!

Pain like I had never felt before assaulted me. And coming from me, that's an accomplishment…

Looking for the source of my pain, I let my instinct guide me and found myself tearing apart and devouring what looked like another soul.

How did I know it was a soul, you ask? Heh~

There's something else within this soul that's trying to take root in me now. A parasite or something? I don't know but I don't like it…

Alarmed, I did the only thing I could, which was to tear out the part of my soul that had this thing in it and shred it apart… I succeeded, mostly, but the more I shredded, the more it resisted, so I threw whatever was left and moved away…

You know, maybe this was a blessing instead; the soul that I devoured was human.

I instinctively knew it was a soul when we touched, and I knew it was a human soul by the memories I had seen so far.

There are no meaningful memories about his personal life in the memories I have; it may be with the part that I threw away along with that thing??

Eh, who cares? So how do I know he is human? Well, in his memories, of course, and there are some that match the knowledge I have about history and stuff. I mean, even though I am not the most knowledgeable, I still know some things…

Though, most of his memories are about stories, either visual or written, they were entertaining.

These stories are interesting. I mean, I didn't know what a manga was nor what a comic was. I still found them very interesting. Still, I will look into these memories thoroughly later; for now, I need to inspect myself and see what happened.

So, after looking over and over again, inspecting my soul, I concluded that nothing was wrong aside from some of my personal memories being missing.

Not like I needed them in the first place. What good are memories of hospitals, laboratories and white coats?

I think they are with the part of me that I shredded and threw away.

Anyway, it doesn't matter at the moment because it's time to look into what these two balls of swirling energy I found are doing in my soul.

My instinct tells me they're something good, so as I started studying them—which by the way was me poking at them and seeing what would happen—I figured out what they are.

And of course I would figure them out; I was smart, plus I poked and nudged them long enough that I felt like they told me just to stop…

Anyway, it turned out these swirling balls of energy were skills that the other soul somehow had, and if I had to guess based on the stories I had seen, then the soul I somehow devoured had met what the stories call a ROB and was stupid enough to believe it could make wishes for free.

I don't know for sure because I don't have memories of its encounter, but that was my best guess…

So that would also mean the thing that I threw away was the so-called system, huh? Good, I probably dodged a bullet there, huh.

I guess there's a lesson here: "Always trust your instincts."

Anyway, this skill is interesting.

After examining them for a bit more, I discovered what they are… These things are preprogrammed masses of energy that engrave what they can do into a person's soul so that they can use them as if they were their own.

So instead of letting them do their thing, I tried to devour them the same way I did before with the soul, and it worked. I mean, I instinctively knew I could, so I tried, and it actually worked…

Now I have two new skills that feel like I have always had them, and the best part is that they can never be taken from my soul in any way, unlike before, even if something tears my soul apart.

Hahahaha! Sure, if something tried to tear apart my soul and devour it like I did, maybe they could? I don't actually know…

Anyway, these skills are interesting.

The first skill is something that made me into a natural-born sage, which means I will always be able to use natural energy—Whatever that means…

What's the use of that? I don't know yet, but if the stories I have are anything to go by, then that means I will become powerful. Sure, I can't use it now, but that doesn't matter.

On the other hand, the second skill, which is called 'archmage's qualification,' is something that I can use now, which's great for me.

Why, you ask?? Because this skill enables me to build a magical core that can accommodate any kind of energy—which was great and all, but that wasn't the important part…

The important part is that it gave me an intuitive aptitude for anything I want to study, and guess what I want to study? This place!—This beautiful, horrifying, endless void…

I finally have a way that may as well become my ticket out of this void!!! Yay me!!

The first thing I did with my newfound ability was, of course, using it to study my own soul, and well, I found out that my soul has a somewhat weak ability to adapt to outside stimuli; that's also the reason I still have consciousness/move and other things while staying in this void.

Furthermore, I started to be able to manipulate my own soul without relying on my instincts, so I started by organizing my memories, old and new, by creating a place to hold them. Sure, I loosened the connection between these memories and the feelings attached to them so that I won't be swayed by feelings like those dumb MCs in the stories I had seen so far when making decisions in the future—Emotions are liabilities and I've had enough of those…

I also found out that my emotional center—as I called it—is heavily damaged, which could be the result of multiple things, one of which was my ripping apart my own soul earlier, but hey, I can fix that in the future? Maybe??

After a while, I started studying this void, and after numerous tries, I miserably failed to understand anything beyond the fact that I wasn't strong enough to. It's like I was a newborn trying to comprehend how the universe works.

What I mean is that I don't yet have the capacity to understand—like a level 0 being that doesn't have the knowledge, power, or the qualifications needed for level 1000 knowledge, if that makes sense—Which maybe doesn't. But hey, progress!…

Though the good thing I found is that this place does have energy, which means I can start creating my magical core.

I don't know if I will be able to, but that won't stop me from trying…

Heheheh… I did it!! After so many failures, I was able to create a magical core—A tiny, flickering thing—but mine!.

My very own magical core… I am going to be an archmage!! Suck it, scientists!!

After a tedious process of trying to sense, draw, and guide the smallest and faintest traces of energy and failing repeatedly, I had finally done it!! And now I feel tired and sleepy—The good kind of tired, for once.

But can I sleep here? Ah, it doesn't matter; I will sleep.

Still, before sleeping, I enveloped my soul with a layer of my newly acquired void energy to shield myself, and then I slept…

---

While the soul slept, not caring about anything, it kept drifting in the 'void' as it called it, somehow guided by the energy around it, until it stopped suddenly in front of what could only be described as the personification of the void.

This being, as if disturbed by the newly arrived soul, shifted a little and began to look at it. For a while, nothing happened—until it did.

The void suddenly shook slightly and then stopped.

The soul also shook slightly, and the energy around it fluctuated a little.

For a time, this occurred again and again.

From an outside perspective, it appeared as if the being was having a conversation with both the sleeping soul and the void simultaneously.

Then, the being moved and slowly took a small part of the void, molding and stretching it as if creating a veil, and then it placed the veil over the still sleeping soul.

The veil dissolved into a small, dust-like energy and entered the soul, completely disregarding the shield around it…

The being then gently picked up the soul, and they left, leaving no visible traces of them ever being there in the first place.

…

 

[Kraigen23]

Threadmark

 

[Moonpie_99]

When I woke up, I was no longer in the void; instead, I found myself standing in a white plane that stretched as far as I could see. While it was white for the most part, there were different colorful lines meeting together in the center, creating a node that looked like multiple rainbows had been mixed together.


The colors were connected and interwoven in a way that created a masterpiece of colorful visuals, but, for the life of me, I couldn't think of a better description than "rainbow puke."


I had never been a color enthusiast—which may have been because I was blind most of my life—but I doubt these hues could be seen by the naked eye.


Anyway, where the hell am I? I don't think souls can sleepwalk. I checked my soul and found no abnormalities, but perhaps a more thorough examination was needed.


"Ah, you woke up! Good! We have a lot to talk about," said an old man who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, speaking in a language I had never heard before—yet, strangely, I understood him.


"You don't need to monologue to yourself, you know. You're not thinking quietly; you're just broadcasting your thoughts like a radio," the old man continued while I was still trying to figure things out.


Once again, I was puzzled by how I understood him or what he meant; I was obviously talking to myself, a habit I had developed for some strange reason. Perhaps the answer lies with the part of my soul I had thrown away?


"You mean you did that to yourself? What possessed you to do such a foolish thing?" the old man inquired, coming closer and waving his hand in front of me—like some kind of lunatic conducting an invisible orchestra for an invisible audience.


"You're really strange. Your soul is lacking some aspects, while having an abundance of others, and there's minor damage, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with time and proper knowledge," he added, somehow having checked my soul despite the energy shield that had been up since I went to sleep.


"Hey, old man, who are you? How can you inspect my soul while my shield is up? And what do you mean by everything you just said? Where is this place? Also, why am I here?" I asked him. And it just occurred to me that I had actually spoken somehow, which was interesting! I'll be sure to study this later.


"Again, you don't need to monologue, and yes, souls and spiritual beings can speak, but seeing how you want to research this yourself, I won't spoil the topic for you…


To answer your questions though: you are here because I requested someone from outside my multiverse, and you were brought here.


This place is a small dimensional plane created by me. I could inspect your soul because it was a non-aggressive diagnostic scan that passed right through; you should work on how you shield your soul better.


And *#I am the #%#One *#%Above *#%All*~, the creator of this part of the #}multiversal %}reality *#%chain." I heard the old man say…


Okay, I understood most of the things he said, but the last part flew over my head. It was overwhelming enough that I couldn't actually hear properly, let alone understand… interesting!!!


"Okay, honestly, what I understood may as well be different from what you said, but let me summarize to see if I got this right: I was delivered here like some kind of package; you can scan me because my shield is ineffective; and you're something-something creator of something multiverse something. Am I correct so far?"


"Eh, close enough. Can't fault you really—you're inexperienced with this way of speaking—and you are not strong enough to understand what I actually explained, but that's neither here nor there.


I requested someone from outside my multiverse for a job, and you were delivered, so you'll do just fine.


Now, before we talk about anything else, tell me about yourself," the old man said with interest.


Hmm? Why am I referring to a multiverse creator—if I understood anything he said correctly—as "old man"? He looks the part, plus the worst that could happen is being erased from existence.


Well, it might be better; my experience so far doesn't bode well for living. Still, I would prefer to actually use my skills before that…


"Again, your monologue is unnecessary; you should learn to utilize that shield of yours better so that you could selectively choose what you want others to hear…


Anyway, I don't mind being called old man, although not many do, for some reason. I mean—it's not like I would do anything to them, really, but I guess that's that.


Now tell me about your journey here; it sounds intriguing!" the old man said, berating me for my poor use of the shield. Maybe he doesn't know that I created this one while fighting sleep in the void. Eh, it doesn't matter.


I started talking with the old man, sharing everything I remembered about what had happened and how I got here, to which he listened with sparkling eyes that I didn't know one could have.


Upon reflection, though, it was strange; I don't think I'm sharing all of this with him purely because I want to, because I know I am not the sharing type. So there must either be something influencing me to do so, or I just felt like talking to someone about everything for once—but that's not important right now.


I learned something odd while telling him about the stories I now know from the memories I gained. He told me that some of them portrayed what happened in universes within his multiverse.


So, of course, I asked him about it—about how that could be possible—but he didn't tell me much; all he said was, "You didn't actually know what's possible, so why would this be any different?"


He also told me, "If you ever grow to be as strong and knowledgeable as me, then you would find out."


If you ask me, though, I think he was just lazy and didn't want to explain…


On another note, I somewhat found out how and why I appeared in that void alone after dying instead of going wherever other people go after dying.


His words were, "You might have had something that's considered supernatural in a reality that has no tolerance for such a thing, or you could have been cursed by a god in your previous world. Sure, I know the exact cause but not the actual reason. I don't think telling you anything about that would help in any way.


I mean, it could also be countless other reasons that got you kicked out of where you were.


What you should be certain of is that you were banished or rejected from your previous world into what you call the void, which is, by the way, the wrong definition for that place, but I'm not going to correct you."


And so, as you might infer, I was too special for the world itself—the world was jealous of me and had to kick me out. That means I just got confirmation of what I had always known—I'm just too awesome… hehe.


"Narcissistic thoughts aside, what you should be proud of are your instincts. That encounter with the soul you told me about was most likely a higher entity using a misguided human soul as a slave to do its bidding, because no soul goes through that place to reach a destination.


I am not telling you that reincarnation stories you know are wrong or that they don't happen. It's just that when they happen, they always stay in their own @&!:& section of the multiverse…


And before you ask, yes, if you hadn't followed your instincts, you would have most likely been enslaved instead," the old man interrupted my thoughts once again.


What he said was likely true; from the knowledge I gleaned from the soul and his life stories, the only conclusion I could come to is that it takes a special kind of fool to believe they are getting wishes from nowhere, just because they saved a child or because an omnipotent being is bored.


Especially the bored omnipotent being—that one is hilarious.


Though, to be fair, it might just be my trust issues influencing how I think. Plus, not everyone wishes to stay dead, so I guess they do what they can to keep living? I don't know, and I don't actually want to know…


Anyway, I wanted to ask the old man about the job he mentioned. "Hey, old man, you said something about a job. Care to give me the details? And am I getting paid?"


"Ah, the job, yes. I will send you to one of my worlds that has been forcefully merged with two others while I was taking care of something more urgent.


Your task is to find the individual who is reincarnated there and acquire his so-called system, either peacefully or by force—it's up to you.


The important thing is that you take care of him before his system can take root and does irreversible damage that would force me to erase that part of my multiverse and recreate it…


Before you ask: yes, I have taken care of those responsible; yes, you'll be given the means to extract the system and send it to me; yes, you're getting paid in the form of living again; no, that's all you'll receive for this job," the old man said.


He just answers whatever he likes, huh?


Before I could continue my musings, he cut in again. "Anyway, kid, it was nice getting to know you, but now I'm sending you to Death's realm so you can finalize your living-again situation."


Before I could ask how Death would help me, I was kicked out and moved in what felt like a bizarre sensation of sliding, gliding, stretching, and twisting.


Huh, that was fun.


I looked around and found myself in a dark place designed to look frightening—like how one decorates their home for Halloween.


Still, now that I got the feel of this place, it feels like home to me. So I did the first thing that popped into my head and said, "Honey, I'm home!"


And before you ask, yes, I learned this from one of the stories…


"Welcome," a smooth voice said from behind me. How did she get here without my notice? I don't know. And I didn't get much time to ponder that because the voice started talking again while I was turning around…


"Before you continue with that annoying habit of yours, let me introduce myself. I am Death. I will be responsible for sending your soul into the body of a recently deceased wizard who wishes to stay dead and 'reunite' with his family…


However, he still has an ongoing debt to magic and fate, so you'll be dealing with them in his stead unless, of course, you want to lose an easy way to get magic—which, if I had to guess, the answer is no. So, get ready."


Once again, I found myself being shoved somewhere, only to find myself in a train station where a scrawny kid sat beside a deformed-looking baby.


I scanned the baby-shaped thing first and then the boy, discovering that the baby was a deformed fragment of a soul, while the kid was a soul without abnormalities. And so, I walked toward him and sat beside him in silence.


The quiet lasted until the kid's attention snapped to me. Startled, he jumped up, looking at me vigilantly, he asked,


"Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get here? Why?" Before he could continue, I cut him off like the old man and Death had done to me:


"Hey there, slow down kid. Sit down, take a deep breath, and then we'll talk." He eyed me suspiciously for a while but eventually sat, realizing I meant no harm.


"Well, first things first: I don't have a name. No—I had one, but I lost it along with some key memories that made up my identity.


So Call me whatever pops into your head.


As for why I'm here? Well, Death sent me to take the place of someone who wants to stay dead. So, what's your story."


Of course he didn't take my words for it but after some back and forth we eventually began discussing our lives…


Initially skeptical, the kid's doubts faded as we traded questions and answers. I quickly figured out how to project memories for him to see—and taught him to do the same too.


With the skepticism gone, we talked for a long while, puzzling over why he lingered here even after my arrival.


——

 

[Moonpie_99]

You know, now that I actually think about it, this is the first time I've talked with someone for a prolonged period of time—and no, the old man doesn't count.


Still, to think my first friend is a soul stuck between life and death.


It reminds me of that saying, "Birds of a feather flock together," hahahahaha.


Seeing me laugh, Harry suddenly looked at me and asked, "Why are you laughing?"


"It just occurred to me that my first friend, much like me, is a soul that didn't want to stay alive," I said with a grin, which he matched before laughing as well.


"Still, how long have we been here?" I asked him.


It's true; we've shared everything about ourselves, inspected our souls, and even reviewed our memories and read some of the stories I know.


We also figured out how to sense emotions simply because we thought it would be funny to feel secondhand embarrassment after a funny story.


Guess what? It was, I thought, but now I'm starting to get confused about what to do next.


"I don't know, but I'm starting to think your theory about me willingly giving you my identity was what we were supposed to do," he said.


That was indeed what we were meant to do, and I knew it from the moment I arrived here.


I just wanted to see what would happen and if there was another way because, as a soul with a partial identity myself, I understand what having no identity entails much better.


"Yeah, so before we start, is there anything you want me to do in your stead?" I asked him.


"Oh yes, just pull Dumbledore's beard for me once," he replied… I knew he was going to say that.


"So let's get this over with. I, Harry James Potter, willingly give you my identity with all that it entails. May you have a better life than I," he said.


Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by memories, feelings, and other things that I couldn't quite place. They vanished as quickly as they came, but apparently being momentarily disoriented was enough for me to miss my first friend's last moments here—and now he was truly gone.


You know, I thought I would be sad, but I don't know what I feel. Looking around, I realized I was still in the same place, so I began searching for the soul shred that was here, which after a while of walking, I found it still at the foot of the chair where it had been from the start.


Crouching down and touching it, I used my energy to scan it. It was a piece of the soul of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, aka Voldemort, that Harry had spoken about.


Seizing the opportunity, I devoured it like I had done with the other soul by shredding it to pieces and absorbing it—still not before using my energy to filter out everything else.


What was left was a black blob that I discarded.


I was then shifted into a dark, gloomy room where I found the body of Harry Potter—or my body now.


I really need to solve this dissociation problem, and fast.


I touched the body, and that's how I found myself in a dark, fractured space that looked like a failed imitation of the void. After looking around for a bit, I instinctively knew I was in my mindscape, so I started observing, probing, and studying it for a while.


Mindscapes for wizards are metaphysical places that represent one of the two connection points between the soul and the body; the other one is the magical core. If the knowledge I gained from Voldemort is anything to go by…


I know this because he had done some sacrificial ritual that forcefully connected his magical core with his mindscape and body to achieve something called "the Trifecta"…


Now, with this new discovery, I started to work on how I would achieve that without relying on said ritual…


Since my mindscape already had a rudimentary level of formation, I began what I'd called "Project Void Mind"—a sophisticated way of saying I tried my hardest to make my mindscape a real representation of the void I had been in before coming here.


Some might ask why; the answer isn't that complicated.


Just because I survived there for a little while by what I now know was luck doesn't mean others can.


Consider the confusion and panic of someone entering my mindscape only to be trapped there, trying to navigate a place where sense—common or otherwise—is on vacation.


I mean, I did try my hardest to transform my mindscape into the void as I perceived it: no space, time, gravity, or direction—just a massive black void of nothingness and confusion.


After completing that, the only thing left was to make it more refined and harder to access.


What remained was sorting my memories, feelings, and stuff in between, so that's what I did.


I created an office table with a chair in the middle of my void, sat down, and started to create a book.


The book took many attempts to create because I was trying to make it using void energy while also hoping it would become semi-physical.


In the end, I succeeded. God, having intuitive aptitude is fantastic! After creating my book, which I dubbed *The Book of Knowledge, I redesigned the desk and chair for maximum comfort.


Once I was done, I began sorting my memories, separating mine and Harry's from Voldemort's.


I did weaken the connection to the memories I had while deleting any emotions attached to Voldemort's memories…


My intention was for the life I lived before waking up to exist only as an informational reference and nothing more, though I don't know how that would work out.


Surprisingly, this whole process took the longest.


Who would've thought sorting memories would be so bothersome? You have to go through every single memory, double-check for lingering feelings, put them in memory books, sort them in the drawer, and then repeat the process all over again three times.


After sorting through everything, including the new memories I gained with the identity of Harry Potter—which, let me tell you, took the most time and hassle—it was finally time to fix my emotional center.


The representation of my emotional center in my mindscape is a small, cracked ball the size of a baseball, with different colors swirling around.


I took all the emotions I had siphoned from my memories and started injecting them into my emotional center.


After a while, I was done. The ball of emotions was now bigger, and most of the cracks had started to mend.


Relief washed over me, and I finally felt complete. I'm now Harry Potter, and I'm going to turn the world upside down.


Now then, let's go check on my soul to see what's happening there.


So I went into my soul; you know, now that I think about it, shifting between my mindscape and what I dubbed as "soulscape" is like what I imagine shifting perspectives in stories feels like.


Heh, if my life is being written as a story, this information would be very interesting for all the isekai enthusiasts.


Anyway, now that I'm looking at my soul, I can safely say that with a few finishing touches, my soul would be able to start healing.


But first, I want to organize this place. There are still some memories I took from Voldemort locked here—those with the heaviest feelings that I have to thoroughly check again before sending a copy to my mindscape.


Some might ask why? I'll explain. You see, usually all memories are stored in the subconscious of a person, and when I say all, I mean every single one from birth to death.


Now, how does the soul of a normal person carry these memories after death? The answer is that when a person dies and "they see their life flash before their eyes," that's the process of memory transfer from the body to the soul—thus answering one of the mysteries of death, memories, identities, and souls.


Now, I'm not a normal person, not by a long shot, and that complicates the situation of my soulscape.


My soul is damaged, and thus I only had very limited access to this place. But now that my soul has started healing, this will turn into almost complete access.


I say "almost" because I still need to do some things to gain full control over my soulscape and thus manipulate my soul as I please while alive—but that's for later.


Still, my soulscape now looked more vivid and real. It mirrored my mindscape in design but had a bookshelf behind the chair where my memory books are sorted, instead of them being inside three endless drawers on a desk.


Now that I've finished my job here, I'll go check on the emotional center in my soul before starting the shielding process.


The emotional center here in my soul looked just like the one in my mindscape and was almost repaired too, so all is good.


What I need to do from now on is continue strengthening my soul by saturating it with every energy I gain access to in the future and have it adapt.


Hehehe… having a soul that can adapt is cheating.


Now, for protection, the shield I put on my soul has to be the best, so I let my instincts—which have been strengthened after acquiring intuitive aptitude—take the wheel.


The result was a thin layer of void energy directly connected to and enveloping my soul, with two simple functions: adaptation and upgrade.


It will adapt to anything and shield from everything.


So as long as the shield isn't obliterated in one blow, it will adapt to the attack and upgrade—which in turn will strengthen my soul…


Looking at the result, I can only marvel at what you can do with this void energy.


This energy is still a mystery to me even now, but using something and figuring out how it works are two different things*.


I don't know if this would be possible with any other energy, but I guess I'll know more in the future.


Now that this is done, it's time to check if my magical core is ready.


Having two magical cores merge together is suicidal, but my own magical core is just better. Now that I've stopped using void energy, the process is smoother and faster than before.


Observing the process in which my void core all but devoured the other core was a fascinating experience that gave me a lot of insight into magic.


Firstly, from my perspective, magic is a piece of creation. Now, most would argue, "How can that be?" Well, it just is.


Now, if you ask about different kinds of magic and the like, then I'll say that's just the aspect it takes depending on who uses it.


Secondly, different people understand and use magic differently depending on factors like talent, age, knowledge, species, etc.


Lastly, wizards have access to an aspect of magic that, in the right hands, can be considered either overpowered or weak—with no middle ground.


Still, that's just what I've managed to understand until now. My definition of magic could change with more knowledge… maybe?


--


P@treon: hunter20

 

[Moonpie_99]

--


There's something wrong with the wizarding world—believe me—I'm not just saying this to throw dirt on wizards or to brag about my genius. I'm saying this after reviewing everything I have on the wizarding world and magic in my memories, more than once, to come to this conclusion.


I mean, the sheer squandered potential alone was enough for me to say 'fu*k them' and let them die, let alone their traditions, their way of living, and everything in between…


Then there's Voldemort. He was a different kind of idiot. Again, I'm not criticizing him just for the sake of it—but stating my opinion after reviewing every memory he had—sure, he was a prodigy in magic. He had a wealth of knowledge that would make most wizards and witches cry in shame, but he was also unbelievably arrogant.


Once he believed something to be true or came up with a conclusion he thought was right? That's it.


I mean, what kind of idiot tears apart his own soul in hopes of immortality? Isn't it common sense that the soul should stay intact? Plus, shouldn't he at least check and read more books on souls to confirm what he read wasn't actually some closely guarded ancient secret but a rambling of some mad wizard?


Still, there's always that someone who wants to know if immortality is more than just a hoax, huh?


The truth is, everything dies—that should be the first obvious rule. Even death dies in the end, and everything turns into nothingness just to be born again… It's called the cycle of life and death for a reason —It's in the name — But I guess there's no cure for human idiocy.


There are so many ways to achieve long life as a wizard, and I've already discovered one in his memories no less and that was If you reach the state of Trifecta, then the only thing you need after that is to keep your body healthy, and you can live up to 600 years minimum, depending on how strong your body and magic are.


That also didn't mean you can't enhance your body, magic, and soul to live longer, even though he discovered this ritual in an indian magical community, years after Hogwarts, he still should have been more patient and less arrogant…


Uh, I got distracted again; the idiocy of this fool just got to me somehow.


Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah, yes, wasted magical potential.


You see, in this world, wizard magic is a semi-structured magical system. It's like a bastard child born of a relationship between desire, wish, and reality magic.


From the spells I've reviewed, it directly bypasses the concepts of white, dark, holy, demonic etc...


Which means As long as you have the intent, focus, emotions, and a little bit of arithmetic inclination to either check if the spell would work beforehand or give it the structure needed, you can create and use any spell.


Anyway, good for me I guess. Now that I'm here, learning, modifying and creating spells with the help of my Book of Knowledge will be a walk in the park…


Oh, didn't I tell you why I created that thing? Well, when I was about to sort my memories, the idea popped into my head: "Why can't I create a book directly connected to my mindscape, powered by my magic, to do anything I can do in my mindscape but bring it into the real world?" Now, I know it's a crazy idea most would dismiss as impossible, but I lived in the void for a while. I know firsthand that almost everything is possible.


And now? I'm so thankful for creating it. This book feels like a fresh, new mind. It's not sentient by any means —I have to think of what I want it to do for it to function—but right now, I'm thrilled I made this book!!


Believe me, if you had a mind that never gets bored simulating different outcomes for spell modifications, you'd be happy too.


Now, about my body: it's being reconstructed from the ground up with magic—void, or as I've decided to call it, "null" energy (a more accurate description)—and the new natural energy.


The natural energy started flowing through my core soon after it settled, thanks to my Sage skill activating.


It began passively purifying the surrounding natural energy before absorbing it into my core and spreading it throughout my body.


This created a domino effect where my other energies did the same, which brought me a hellish pain I dubbed "the Great Pain of Rebirth".


I'm kidding—it merely started an energy revolt inside my body, where every ounce of energy did as it pleased. This led me to let my instincts take over, which, if I do say so myself, was the right call.


After a while, I entered the stage of what I call Body Reformation, due to my energies unifying together to transform my body into the best conductor possible.


It's a painful process, but when you can retreat into your mindscape and lose yourself in studying magic, it becomes tolerable.


By my calculations, everything should've taken a week. Afterward, I'd need a ton of food—but that's alright—I'll figure it out later.


Now, I've tried studying natural energy, but all I could conclude was the word "nature."


It's like someone's stopping me, saying, "Start by purifying nature before studying it."


Anyway, since I've got nothing else to do, I'll fully absorb the magical knowledge I have, especially Voldemort's. That piece of work has some very interesting insights on magic, so I need to analyze them thoroughly before tweaking them.


You see, he's obsessed with what he calls "dark" and "black" magic—and to some extent, he's right. But here's the kicker: it's not truly dark magic. It's wizard magic that's heavily inclined toward desire/wish and emotion.


Dark magic is a type embedded with the concept of darkness , and its users can't wield other magic due to its corruptive nature of said magic towards other concepts and energies.


Wizard magic bypasses this by relying on desire, emotion, and the wish aspect embedded in it… That's why I need to tweak spells before using them.


I just fixed my emotional center—I don't want to wreck it again.


What? You Still don't get it? Let me explain more clearly. The Killing Curse for example isn't really a dark magic.


What it does is tap into desire and wish aspect of a wizards magic, feeding on the caster's dark emotions to build up the charge and fulfill its intent.


How does it kill? It slaps the death aspect onto the spell without the need of having the death concept in the magic itself. Meaning you cast a death spell without having death magic…


Why's this dangerous? Feeding emotions—negative or positive—to magic has consequences: like addiction, emotional imbalance, etc.


This imbalance disrupts wizards' emotional centers, messing with their souls—and as you'd guess, that's bad.


Five days of hellish pain have passed. Even though I hid in my mindscape, cutting off sensory feedback, I still felt the need to acknowledge what my body endured.


Now, two days ahead of schedule, everything's done. Time to start my plan and mess with a lot of people. A reckoning is about to begin…


I woke up in my body. Everything felt new— the sensory feedback is disorienting, the balance is off, and I am famished. Still, I pushed through and stood up…


I needed to get out and find something to eat first…


Without wasting time, I flexed my hands, broke the cuffs, waved my newly freed hand casting a spell to open the door, and started walking down the corridor.


The deranged laughter and heart-wrenching cries I was hearing all around me didn't matter.


I needed food !!! And fast.


Spotting a guard, I hit him with an 'Imperio' before he could react, ordered him to lead me to the food storage, and followed under an Invisibility Charm.


The walk to the kitchen took a short while, the guards' lack of response to others did turn some heads but nothing that a small compulsion charm didn't solve…


The kitchen and storage here aren't impressive, but what do you expect from a prison, plus they had about a month's rations so that's good.


Without waiting for anything I casted some strong compulsion charms and notice-me- not charms on the door and started devouring vegetables/ fruits first while igniting a fire with magic to cook the meat and letting magic be the chef…


Three hours and two weeks' worth of food later, I finally felt like myself again.


Ahhh, this is life.


I'll go back and rest in my cell a few more hours before I start doing anything else.


--

 

[Moonpie_99]

-


You know, I think I've fallen in love with sleep. Turning off everything and resting is a sensation that feels new to me. However, time doesn't wait for anyone—well, that's a bit of a lie—but hey, the purpose is to motivate myself.


I stand up and stretch my limbs in every direction possible, even jumping up, down, and sideways to get a conscious feel of my body and balance before moving.


As I walk out of the cell, treating it as if it were my hotel room, I leisurely pace my steps, using magic to ensure the echoes of my footsteps are heard by every being in this godforsaken prison.


My execution is set for tomorrow morning, so why not make today memorable by escaping through the front door like a boss who owns the place?


Now that I think about it, my memories of the Harry Potter story and my life as Harry Potter are two different things; the events in the story were just that—a story for kids.


Or was it really? Maybe it tells a story of a different Harry Potter? I don't know, and I don't care either.


In this life, though, unlike the story, the old me was a rebellious teenager who came from an abusive household, so he was more problematic than normal, which led to him often clashing head-to-head with Dumbledore.


Not to say that the old me was evil or anything—he was actually a kind-hearted person. He didn't wish to harm anyone; he just had problems with adults telling him what to do and with authority in general.


So, when Dumbledore got the chance to teach the old me a lesson, he seized it and shipped him off to Azkaban.


Joke's on him, though—the old me was killed by a Death Eater masquerading as a guard on the first day.


But now, the new me is going to flip the board and play a new game that'll bring the whole British Isles to its knees.


It'll be such a cliché plot of a beaten-up protagonist coming back from disgrace and beating up everyone…


I hear the sound of multiple footsteps approaching—those must be the guards—so let's greet them properly, huh?


Turning right at the end of the corridor, I am met with a barrage of different spells: Stunning Curses, Leg-Locking Charms, Petrification Charms, and even a Crucio Curse among them…


Still, I wanted to be cool like those MCs in stories—so I did the most badass thing these people would ever get to see. I waved my hand in a sweeping motion, and a force of magic swept all the incoming spells away to my left, making them hit the floor and the wall…


This, of course, garnered the intended effect in the form of a comical reaction from the guards—some looked at me in shock, others stood bewildered, and some froze in fear. Still, I could tell everyone was wondering what the hell just happened.


I'll take this opportunity to educate them—about the height of Mount Tai—I'm just kidding. But I should find some solution for the xianxia protagonist syndrome I seem to have… Anyway, that's for later. Now, I'll have to confiscate their wands first. With a flick of my hand, all the wands they had on them are forcefully summoned to me, bringing them out of their shock and back to reality.


"If anyone is wondering how I did that, I'll explain if asked nicely," I say, starting my speech before any of them gather the courage to say something foolish… But, of course, an oaf of a man speaks up anyway.


"Harry Potter!!! Give us our wands back and return to your cell, and we will forgive you…"


But of course, he didn't get to continue his speech. I shooed him away with a motion of my hand, causing him to suddenly yelp as he was hurled from where he stood and slammed against the wall, falling unconscious with a groan.


"Pardon me, gentlemen. He was starting to spout shit and make a fool of himself, so I treated him with my newly developed fool's educating method. Still, take this as an example and be more cooperative and civilized, okay?" I smiled at them, clapping my hands to continue my monologue.


"Now, as I was saying, if you have questions, I might answer them and educate you a little. That way, maybe you could be more useful in the future. Ah, who am I kidding? You people won't understand what I'm saying anyway, but let's give it a try, huh? What do you say? Come on!" I motioned for them encouragingly to start speaking. *I am such a gentleman.*


"Um, Harry Potter, sir… um, could you tell us how you did that?" one of the guards asks, who appeared to be the youngest among them, pointing at the unconscious oaf.


"Oh, you mean the magic? Like how I threw him all the way to the end of the corridor? Well, it's not that hard, really. It's a normal Knockback Jinx—but what I *really* want to brag about is my new and improved spell-deflecting technique.


You see, normal deflecting techniques are used by duelers to forcefully change the direction of a single spell at a time using their raw magic with the wand as a medium—you know that, right?


But what I did with all the spells you sent my way was nearly the same, but on a larger scale and without a wand or anything, thanks to my impressive magic control. I simply used raw magic to catch and throw the spells the other way… It sounds easy, I know, but it's really not," I patiently explain to them, only to be met with blank stares and bewildered faces…


Sigh. This is going to be boring, isn't it?


Now, some might ask why I am explaining this to them. The answer is obvious: to brag, but also to make the ones in the Ministry who will surely review their memories reconsider being enemies with me. After all, I just showed them that numbers don't mean shit to me…


"I can see the bewilderment on your faces, so let me give you some tips that might help you, okay? First tip: Stop thinking when doing magic, and just *do it*. You know the spells, you have the wand, so point and cast… But of course, none of you will follow my advice, will you? I really am trying to teach you something valuable here…"


"Anyway, gentlemen, it's clear none of you here understand the intricacies of magic, nor do you want to learn. So how about you escort me out, and I won't have to resort to uncivil means? Huh?" I smiled and said.


I really didn't want to kill them or hurt them—they're just doing their job.


One of the younger and more courageous guards raises his hand, making me stifle a laugh at his visible nervousness.


"Yes?" I respond, gesturing for him to ask his question.


"You're not going to kill us, are you?" he asks, fear evident in his eyes. He was still young, after all…


"No, no. Why would I need to kill you if you're cooperating?" I answer as I start walking toward them, making them shift slightly and back away.


"Are you not afraid the Ministry is going to hunt you down if you escape?" he asks again, this time with more composure in his voice.


"No, not at all. They won't have time for me; they'll have to focus their efforts on stopping Voldemort, which—if you ask me—is nothing but a foolish endeavor," I reply, making all of them stiffen upon hearing the name…


"But they said You-Know-Who is dead!" one of the older guards says with a slightly raised voice.


"Okay, they also said *I* killed him as a baby, and now I'm saying he's not dead," I clarify, making them look at me as if I'd said the Earth is flat…


"You're lying!!" another guard yells—I don't know what gave him the courage—only to receive a Silencing Spell from me as a reward.


"Believe what you want," I begin, "but do you really not want to know why he came after me in the first place? I'll gladly tell you if you're curious."


"I want to know!! Um… please?!" replies a slightly timid voice from a female guard staying in the back, now that we're actually walking out of this prison with them as my escorts.


"Alright, I'll explain just because you're polite enough. You see, that idiot Voldemort did some nasty dark rituals to make himself immortal. Truly the height of stupidity, if you ask me—still, he succeeded 'for the most part.' Then, instead of being smart and gradually amassing power and influence like Dumbledore did, he chose the reckless and direct path—though by that point, he was clearly already crazy and unhinged, so it's not really his fault.


So he ignited a war, which you're all aware of. But then something significant occurred: he learned of a prophecy. Now, as you all should know, prophecies are often self-fulfilling. He was aware of this fact too; however, after all the rituals he'd performed, his mind and reasoning ability were already f*ked.


He somehow became convinced he was powerful enough to circumvent fate by killing the toddler—which is me, by the way—and so, with the help of Peter Pettigrew, that idiot found his way to our home and attempted to kill me, fulfilling the first part of the prophecy: marking me as his equal—which ultimately led to his own demise.


Now that he's back to full power, though, the second part of the prophecy has activated, stating that only I can kill him," I explain slowly as we near the exit of the prison, making sure my voice reaches every single one of them…


"You may ask one more question before I go," I say, pointing at the silent old man who hadn't spoken a word until now.


"Are you going to fight You-Know-Who now that you're about to escape?" he asks.


"Hmm. No, I don't think I will—I won't be participating in this war until I get what I want. And believe me, I *will* get what I want," I reply with a menacing grin that I'm sure sent a chill down their spines, judging by their reactions…


"Now, gentlemen and lady, here are your wands," I say as I toss their wands to the ground. "Call whoever you wish. And if I may offer a piece of advice—flee the country, for none of you will be safe." And so, with a snap of my fingers, I vanish.


--


After Harry Potter disappeared in front of them with silent, smooth Apparition, a heavy silence lingered for just a few seconds before everyone scrambled to grab their wands and cast Patronuses and communication spells to spread the news of what had just transpired.


Not ten minutes later, the loud cracking sound of multiple Apparitions echoed through the air, heralding the arrival of the renowned Auror force—led by none other than the head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, and Mad-Eye Moody.


--

 

[Moonpie_99]

Arriving at Azkaban as fast as they could, Amelia Bones and Mad-Eye Moody, accompanied by a five-man squad of Aurors, rushed toward the guards and started asking questions.


"What happened here? You all sent urgent messages saying someone escaped without any more clarification! And where in Merlin's name are the Dementors?!" Amelia asked quickly while looking around, clearly bewildered by the absence of the Dementors and—how escaping their supposedly inescapable prison is starting to look like a trend…


"Madam Bones, the Dementors started acting strangely five days ago and haven't come out of the east wing area ever since. As for the escapee, well…" The guard stopped speaking and began looking around, clearly seeking help from his companions.


This hesitant behavior caught Amelia's ire, which made her snap at him, "Well, what?" she asked—more like yelled—at him, making the guards flinch and back away a little…


"Umm, Madam Bones, the one who escaped is Harry Potter," the young guard's voice came from behind her, making her turn around and look at him with a frown. She was about to ask him more, but Moody started talking…


"Harry Potter, you say? And pray tell, how did a kid escape Azkaban?" Moody responded gruffly, a hint of mockery in his voice—his prosthetic eye freezing mid-spin to glare at the guard…


The guards exchanged uneasy glances—their breaths fogging in the prison's icy air—then the only female among them seemed to have gathered her courage and pointed at the entrance of the building.


This gesture earned a bewildered look from the newly arrived Aurors. Seeing their expressions, she cleared her throat and said in a hushed voice, as though naming a curse, "Uh, he walked through the exit, sir!"


This clearly was not the answer they expected, so the Aurors just looked at each other, seeing if they all heard what she said correctly…


The first to shake off his stupor was Moody, who asked again, his voice low, like someone who was in too much disbelief to actually raise his voice and speak normally, "So you're saying that Harry Potter escaped Azkaban by walking through the exit?"


All he received in response was a nod from every guard present, their faces pale as the prison's moonlit stones, clearly afraid…


Massaging her temples, Amelia finally couldn't take it as she could feel a headache coming, her jaw tightening as she had just stayed quiet and listened to their conversation while observing their reactions. She finally snapped at them and said, "Gather around and give us your memories, one by one… Now!"


She then looked at Moody and asked, "What do you think?"


Moody just stared at her passively, his prosthetic eye darting around wildly—fixating on shadows as if expecting Potter to materialize—clearly, he did not have an answer…


After taking the memories and waiting for the Auror team to check for magical interference or influence—and finding everything clear—they left.


Upon arriving at the Ministry, Madam Bones quickly inquired about the whereabouts of the minister, only to learn that he was in session with the Wizengamot in Trial Room 5…


She and Moody made their way toward Courtroom 5, where they forcefully entered—the heavy oak slamming against the wall like a gavel's strike—forcing the minister to halt the trial and look at them with an angered expression.


"What are you doing, Amelia? Don't you know we are having a trial here?" shouted Minister Fudge, his jowls quivering with indignation.


"Then the session is temporarily suspended because we have a very serious problem right now," Amelia raised her voice, bringing the room to sudden silence, her tone sharper than ever. "We have an Azkaban escapee—one Harry Potter escaped Azkaban about 10 to 15 minutes ago, and we have just arrived with their memories."


Then she paused, took her wand, and cast a spell on the wall, making it part away—revealing a hidden compartment thick with decades of dust—it was clear this thing had not been used as much as it should.


Moody moved his wand and cast several spells and authentication charms on what now appeared to be a modified Pensieve lodged between the parted wall, its basin carved with serpentine runes—clearly showing that the one who made it was a fan of snakes—before stepping closer to its edge and dumping the contents of one of the small glass bottles.


The Pensieve's surface shimmered slightly before it began to play the events that occurred between Harry Potter and the guards until the moment he escaped, the memory's edges flickering with static, clearly showing the fear the memory owner held.


This process continued, showing the same event from different perspectives. By the end of this, the entire room was deathly quiet—and rightfully so; they had just received a wealth of information that left them unsure of how to proceed, the air was thick enough to choke on.


"Ahem, ahem, this is irrelevant evidence," a shrill voice came from a toad-faced woman in pink sitting just below the minister's chair, her smile sugary, her eyes darting to Fudge as if looking for approval.


"Shut up, Dolores! Now is not the time for you to run that stupid mouth of yours," an angered voice came from the Wizengamot seats on the right side, belonging to one Madam Longbottom—her cane slamming the floor like a thunderclap—accompanied by a spell that magically and forcefully closed Dolores's mouth.


"What is your take on this, Madam Bones?" asked one of the Wizengamot members who sat next to Madam Longbottom, his fingers nervously tracing the Abbot family crest on his robes.


"My take on what exactly? Are you talking about the usage of wandless magic, the information about the prophecy, the information concerning the immortality of You-Know-Who"—here, a collective flinch rippled through the room—"or the subtle and direct threats thrown our way by a kid who I'll just assume to be the strongest in the British Isles as of this moment?" Madam Bones retorted, her voice a mix of mockery and anger—this kind of stupidity was one of the reasons they were in this situation in the first place…


"Well, let's first analyze the events before we can continue further," Minister Fudge's voice broke the silence that had begun to envelop the room again, his words ringing hollow, like a Galleon dropped in mud.


"The kid is powerful. He went out of prison like he owned the place, predicted that we would ask for the memories, and in doing so, revealed information we have been trying to uncover since the death of the Potters"—Moody's eye lingered on a witch in the back row—*Augusta's ally, perhaps?* he thought before continuing—"Now that I think about it, it's his way of calling all of us idiots.


He subtly and directly threatened all of us not to get in his way—and last but not least, he practically told us that this will be an all-out war," Moody said in a somewhat tense voice—he had seen wars, and they were not anything pretty—and he knew deep in his bones that this war was going to be either more brutal or have more consequences than they could handle…


"This is all your fault! You sentenced a kid to death, and now he's coming for all of us," one of the Wizengamot members on the left side yelled—though it wasn't clear who he was actually blaming—still, his voice was filled with fear, and his accusation hung like a Dementor's kiss.


This broke the heavy tension that Moody's words brought, sparking heated arguments.


"Silence!!" Minister Fudge yelled, hitting the table with his gavel, the sound echoing through the courtroom, bringing order into the tense room…


"Am I the only one who heard the kid imply that Dumbledore is a dark lord?" Madam Longbottom said, her words slicing through the room like a Gryffindor's blade, igniting yet another argument between the light and dark factions of the Wizengamot.


This debate quickly escalated. It continued with occasional random observations from the members, dragging on until Madam Longbottom yelled, "Enough!"—making the chandelier above them tremble.


"We have all seen the same thing, and I'm sure everyone has come to their own conclusions—but right now, one thing is certain: by the end of this upcoming war, there won't be as many noble houses left as there are now—just like the previous war.


The dark faction are slaves to an apparently immortal madman, the light faction is shackled to an egotistical maniac"—her gaze flicked to Dumbledore's empty seat—"and the neutral faction won't be able to remain neutral for long—need I remind you about the kid's advice to flee the country? That suggests he is either planning to turn this country into hell on earth or he knows something we don't.


So you do what you want, but I'm not making an enemy out of him," she concluded, standing up, leaving her seat, and walking out of the courtroom, her robes billowing as she walked in a way that would have made Snape proud had he been there to see it…


She paused as she reached the door, turned around to look at Madam Bones, and said, "Amelia, take my advice and don't send your Aurors to their deaths by going after him. He's not just a kid anymore"—the word "kid" dripping with irony.


Before she could return and resume her dramatic exit, a white owl flew past her and directly onto the table where Amelia was sitting…


It opened its mouth, dropped an envelope that was left unsealed, hooted, and flew away as if oblivious to the stunned expressions in the room.


Amelia, as if by instinct from working in an office for a long time, took the envelope, opened it, found the letter inside, took it out, and began reading it, her eyes narrowing with each line.


After a minute or so, she dropped the letter on the table and started massaging her temples as if doing so would make her forget what she just read—the parchment glowing faintly in her other hand, clearly charmed to make the words on it linger in memory…


"Well, a letter from Harry Potter just arrived, directly to me—now, I want you all to remember that this is the Ministry, and owls can't just get in here, but Potter somehow made his owl do it"—her thumbs tracing the unsealed envelope—"anyway, here's what it says,"


she began reading:


"Dear Madam Bones, how are you? I'm sure that by now you have learned about my escape from Azkaban—like I owned the place, if I say so myself—anyway, by the time my owl delivers this to you, I'm sure you all will just be arguing without reaching a decision, so let me do that for you.


As of tomorrow, I want my godfather, Sirius Black, exempt from all charges and declared innocent, or I'll start sending memories to the *Daily Prophet*. Tuesday's headline: 'Minister Fudge's Secret Toad Collection'—you get the idea.


I don't care what you decide about me because you can't really do anything to me anyway—try it, and I'll turn your fancy courtroom into a greenhouse, at least that way it would have been more useful.


Oh, and just in case some idiot hasn't reached this conclusion yet: we are at war. Now I'm not participating just yet; I'll let you stew a little, lose some people, and when you're desperate, that's when I'll come to cut you a deal, worse than Dumbledore's, better than Voldemort's—you can pick your poison.


Oh, and you can thank Dumbledore for this idea. He did the same thing in the previous two wars—ask Moody, he knows, and don't forget to ask him about Albania. He'll twitch. It's hilarious.


Anyhow, that's all. Ciao!"*


Amelia finished reading the letter and dropped it on the table once again.


Madam Bones had a look of contemplation on her face before reverting to her usual stoic demeanor—though her quill hand twitched, itching to draft a resignation letter…


Moody stood there—twitching slightly as he remembered the Albania incident—but also considering how to handle the situation, his eye now fixed on Dumbledore's vacant seat, wishing Dumbledore was there.


Fudge was left wondering where everything had gone wrong, his mind spiraling: *Toad collection? Albania?!*


Meanwhile, the other members of the Wizengamot were deep in thought about what to do next, their faces a mosaic of dread, ambition, and quiet awe.*


--