The end-of-term exams have left everyone either exhausted or just mad enough to become an irritant.
At least Bellatrix was busy with her OWLs rather than bothering me during this time.
I sat on the grass, legs in a proper lotus position, as I felt the natural energy cycle through me.
The combination of the dense Draconic Chi and the ritual that involved the Mandrake leaf had boosted my Sage Arts to a new level.
"Ommmm," the sound came from next to me. "Sorry, I just don't feel a thing," said Lily, making me chuckle.
"Why are we learning to meditate again?" asked Severus, though without much bite.
"There is magic around us, energy from nature itself," I repeated.
A few books on Sage Arts that I managed to procure from Kamar Taj Libraries implied that it was, in fact, possible to turn to stone if you unknowingly messed up the balance within you.
"With our little trick..." I continued, not mentioning the Anti-Transmogrification Ritual within earshot of the NPCs, "You can safely learn to mix your energies with the natural energy. You just have to let it happen instead of overthinking it. Look at Meggan."
Just as to prove my point, the corner of Meggan's eyes turned almost wooden before transforming back to flesh as she frowned, opening her eyes and glaring at us.
"I almost had it," she said to Lily with some heat.
"How did you learn this before?" asked Lily instead.
"I have great control," I stated, as was the case.
I had, after all, spent the first eight years of my life doing nothing but pulling my Chi around, as well as having access to Dark Magic that seemed to share a basis with the Sage Arts in how to merge energies without blowing yourself up or turning to stone.
Ignoring the fact that I was also not fully aware of the dangers even if I had already mastered the methods from the Book of Cagliostro to balance other energies within myself before I had tried to force Nature Energy into my own body and risk getting turned into wood.
That latter problem was a non-issue for the trio before me, therefore, the start of their little practice group.
"Says the person refusing to use a broom," said Lily, "Did you know that you have to pass basic competence in your first year or you may be failed and expelled?"
"Well, I assure you, red, that I have a solution for the Flight Class," I stated, though I would have to reserve it for later. The Arithmancy for it was rather straightforward once I figured out the right building blocks. "Well, twelve percent of a solution, unsupported flight is tricky."
Honestly, I could probably make Boots of Flight with what I already knew and call it a day, but that would be admitting that I could not do something that poser Riddle could do.
"No, you don't," challenged Severus with a smug look.
"Want a hint?" I asked before pointing my wand and thinking, 'Levicorpus.'
Severus was yanked up by his feet by invisible ropes as he hung in the air with a yelp.
I ignored the indignant squawks of the boy, instead focusing on slowly morphing my Chi into different forms outside my body in a facsimile of Shape Manipulation as it would allow me to form Mandalas faster and without needing hand movements. Meanwhile, I listened to Lily work along with Severus to figure out how to undo the spell.
I sighed before reaching out and flicking Meggan on the forehead, causing her now wooden form to return back the flesh as I used my own Chi to shunt the Natural Energy away.
"I almost had it," she whined.
"In becoming a scene from an Ovid?" I asked, "You can do better than turning into a tree, Meggan."
Said twelve-year-old blew a raspberry at me before starting again, this time looking to be trying to turn herself into stone instead of a tree in a remarkable show of overachievement compared to Lily or Severus.
It was one of those times when I could relax and enjoy the company and the intellectual challenge, even if it was from a couple of twelve-year-olds who did not have the mental blocks of adults on what constituted as hard or impossible.
Despite it all, I felt a dread deep in my bones, like a storm that was about to break.
---
With time on my hands and my first ritual that had somehow achieved more closely integrating Ancient Magic into my being, I decided to give another shot at the Undercroft entrance, even as I was preparing for the end-of-the-year confrontation that I could feel was coming.
The clock clicked, opening the way to a cage-like lift.
"Finally," I whispered after trying for an entire year.
I entered the cage, letting the lift take me down as I realized... wasn't this the same place that would have the challenges for Philosopher's Stone in the first book?
The Undercroft was empty, obviously, but it was not unused.
I noted the cup of tea on one of the desks, cold but still filled with liquid instead of dust.
Someone was using this place.
Scrolls with books littering everywhere, one of them slapped into my palm, allowing me to look through it, mainly looking for a book card, only to find nothing.
Most of the books were useless, different versions of Hogwarts a History, some on Goblin Rebellions of the 19th Century.
It was not really the most fun read.
My eyes found a leather bound tome, the scribblings that passed for handwriting making it out to be some journal in a language unfamiliar to me. Another journal, on the other hand, belonged to one Victor Rookwood.
I sighed.
It appeared that I was operating under incomplete information.
I had assumed that the Cursed Vaults were opened by the perpetrator for a banal reason like power or glory, but I had not accounted for the potential of incompetence over malice.
Cursed Vaults were not the only secret chamber in Hogwarts.
Combined with the current location I was in, the presence of Ancient Magic, and the evidence I held in my hand, there was only one target I would go for.
The Ancient Magic Repository.
"Pack," I said, calling all the work and moving them into my Bag of Holding. Whoever's research it was, it was now Doom's.
Just as I was about to leave, I felt the Ring of Protection I had given to Meggan snap.
This was not really the best time.
I rushed out of the Undercroft, weaving the Locator Charm and conjuring a butterfly out of Eldritch Energy that stalked the hallways, with me following right behind it.
The door slammed open with a flex of Telekinesis, and I found one of the rooms I used for practice was trashed.
Unfamiliar spellfire had been added to the marks on the walls.
Someone had a fight here.
"Appare Vestigium," I cast, targetting one of the marks on the wall, having looked up the specific Forensic Spell that I recalled Scamander using.
The golden dust settled into forms, creating a rendering of the moment when the spellfire had marred the walls.
Rosier and two Lestranges, facing against Lily, Severus, and Meggan.
It had taken a seventeen-year-old and two fifteen-year-olds to knock out my friends, all three of whom had only a year's worth of Magical Education. Granted, they had gotten pretty decent in self-defense, but it was only a year's worth of education in the end.
If it were not for the sheer indescribable wrath that I was feeling, I would have been proud.
But for now, I will settle for ripping the spines out of those wanna-be-terrorists, morals be damned.
The tracking spell did not show me where they went, implying a spell that would counter it.
Instead, I walked out the door, the door splintering before me as I simply walked, reaching out with my senses, my mind as I brushed it across the denizens of the school, seeking Rosier or one of the Lestranges.
I got nothing.
"Von Doom, fight me," a voice sounded as I turned around and looked at Bellatrix Black.
I really did not have time for this.
One moment, I was standing; the next, I was moving forward towards Black, my feet coated in pearlescent Chi as I launched myself to Black.
The fifteen-year-old Witch had less than a second to react, yet she still managed to get off a spell.
I did not bother slapping it aside, the curse washing over me as I simply ripped it apart and consumed its magic as my hand went around her throat.
The momentum brought us crushing to the stone walls behind her, my left hand coming up to bleed off the momentum so she would not hit her head and not be able to answer me.
"I do not have time for your childish games, Black," I growled, bringing my mind through hers, washing over her pitiful attempts at shielding her mind, "Where is your cousin? Where is Rosier?"
Bellatrix seemed utterly terrified for the first time.
She made a choking sound, probably from being held up by her throat. I released her, kicking away her wand just to be sure.
"I don't know," coughed Bellatrix after a moment. "What did that idiot do?"
"Attacked my friends and took them; locating them has proven inconclusive," I stated. "If you are not going to be useful, do not stand in my way, Black. My patience and mercy are only proportional to the civility of my opponent."
I turned around and walked off, thinking about who might know where they were.
"Alfie," I called my House Elf, who popped next to me. "Locate Evans, Snape and Puceanu. Mobilize the rest of the Elves if you can."
"Alfie will do his best, Master," said the House Elf, popping away.
Meanwhile, I closed my eyes, taking a breath to center myself.
Someone had tampered with the Ancient Magic Repository.
Someone had opened the Cursed Vaults—whether by accident or design, I wasn't yet sure.
Student? Not impossible but too many students to narrow down. Faculty? Most were accounted for—save for one notable exception.
The Defense Professor. The idiot.
I was near the Defense corridor already. My steps quickened.
"Look, lass, I don't have a fucking clue what these Cursed Vaults are," came the voice from behind the door. "And frankly, I don't give a damn."
I burst into the room. Patricia Rakepick was bound and gagged, slumped against the far wall. The professor stood over her, wand still raised.
My Shield Bracelet flared just in time—
GONG!
The crimson Stunner slammed into my shield and shattered a layer of my Sorcerous Shield.
Given that I had built the Shield Bracelet to take a hit from Eldritch Horrors and remain somewhat intact, I found the prospect of this fight much more promising in returning results.
"Alright, kids," the Defense Moron said, voice tinged with mockery. "This looks bad, I admit. But the lass attacked me. Let's all take a little nap—"
A wave of Transfiguration magic rolled over me. I felt the spell trying to unravel me, warp my body.
The spell fizzled as the Anti-Transmogrification Ritual's effects held me together.
"Huh... that usually works," muttered the Defense Professor. "But I suppose I am getting on in my years."
He flicked his hand. An axe flew at me—an actual, gleaming axe—hurtling with magical force.
I pulled Time into myself and stretched the moment.
I bent back, catching the haft of the axe with a Chi-coated left hand, before pouring it through the weapon and hurling it back at the Wizard.
A bubble of shield appeared around him, causing the axe to not fully bounce off but shift enough to only leave a thin line on the man's arm.
"Shit, kid," he snarled. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Then, the room erupted in a duel.
Bellatrix joined in beside me, her movements sharp, deliberate. We didn't speak. We didn't need to. A year of consistent dueling against one another had forged something like rhythm between us, as we could account for the moves of the other.
Spells flew—curses, counter-curses, flares of kinetic force, a barrel that I managed to banish out the window as it exploded.
Thimblewood raised both hands. "Fine!"
A spear of lightning crackled from his wand.
A general rule of thumb on how to engage Wizards that can cast lightning is not to do so... as it keeps you alive longer. Those who could casually cast lightning either had precise mastery over their magic and laws of physics or were masochists who got off on getting shocked.
That being said, the joke is on you, bitch; I main lightning.
I caught the bolt of lightning with my left hand, flaring my Chi to create a path along the surface of my skin, similar to how I could encase my fists and feet.
Pulling a move from the Uncle Iroh Method of Dealing with Lightning, using my mastery over Physics to create conductive channels for the lightning to move without touching me.
If it was not clear, I was of the former type of Lightning users. The later school of thought was filled with weirdos.
I moved the charge along, along the path from my left hand to my torso and out through my right hand.
I added my own into it, the Bolt of Balthakk through my wand weaving into the redirected lightning.
Timblewood reacted by casting a silvery kite shield.
The shield shattered, sending the older wizard off his feet, twitching.
I noted that I was breathing hard.
"Wow," Bella said, her hair having gotten frizzled from the static electricity, giving her a rather familiar look of a wicked witch she might yet become.
"Thanks, Black," I acknowledged the girl, who gave me a half-mad grin as I held up my wand; the last third of it seemed charred. "This is mildly annoying," I noted, putting it away.
"Bella, be a dear and bind the Professor," I ordered, watching in some amusement as Black obeyed.
I turned to a wide-eyed Rakepick, a wave of my hand ripping through the spells that bound her as I noted a hint of familiar magic in the spells used... something that I had not noticed in the heat of the fight.
"Rakepick," I said, holding onto her wand for now.
"Von Doom," she responded.
"You have ten seconds to tell your version of events before I just rip into your head," I said, deciding that the time of subtlety was over, pressing upon her head with my Legilimency just to make a point.
"Thimblewood was opening the Vaults," she said quickly. "I confronted him. He overwhelmed me."
'He refused to teach me what he learned, denied having gained the hidden power in the Cursed Vaults,' her thoughts echoed.
"Which is ironic," I noted, "Given that he is an idiot. He did not teach us shit the whole year."
"Von Doom," said Bellatrix, interrupted, "Thimblewood knows his stuff."
"What?" I asked.
"He is one of the better duellists we had in the last three years; he knows what he is doing," explained Bellatrix.
"Then why is he shit at teaching the First Years?" I asked with anger.
I shook my head.
'But why?' I asked myself.
I waved the wand around, drawing six runes that I sent around the room, one for each surface. As the runes activated, I used the Witch's Runes to flush the ambient magic from the room.
Without the energy from the the duel, I raised my hand up to feel what other magic there was.
Ancient Magic.
I could feel it woven through the knocked-out professor more thoroughly than how it was now woven in me, Lily, Meggan, or Severus.
And beneath it, another magic that I was familiar with.
"Accio Polyjuice," I said, causing a flask to fly out of the older wizard's jacket.
"Revelio," I cast, adding a dash of my Chi that was infused with anti-transfiguration, watching the man's skin bubble as his hair fell off.
"I have no idea who this is," I said. The man beneath was taller, broader than before with a bald head and hooked nose. Dazed black eyes stared into the air.
Spoiler: The man beneath the mask
"I do," said Black. "That is Aleister Crowley, Muggle-lover."
Crowley groaned, then smirked.
"Please, Miss Black," he said, "That would be Magus Alister Crowley of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. And yes, Muggle-lover."
He glanced at me, voice dry. "Now, if you lot do not want to spend the rest of your rather short time at Hogwarts in Detention, I would appreciate you releasing me and putting away your wands so we can talk like civilized people."
Then he smiled. "And von Doom, fifty points for a marvelous display of Magical Duelling Skills. I got nothing left to teach you, lad; you hit like a Graphorn on a mating season."
"You taught me nothing," I automatically responded, "and you sucked at teaching."
"He was good/I had worse," came the protests from both Rakepick and Black.
"Nah, the lad is right," said Crowley, "I started Hogwarts at fifteen. Theory never stuck, and I never took to the basics."
I paused, a hiss of frustration leaving my lips.
"One of your titles wouldn't happen to be 'Hero of Hogwarts,' would it?"
"Oh, I didn't know Binns could change the order of his Goblin Rebellions," said Crowley, "But I suppose it is a better title than the Goblin Butcher of Hogsmeade Valley, like Ranrok wasn't the one who sent them to their deaths."
"Who is trying to open the Ancient Magic Repository?" I asked.
Crowley looked at me with a smile, "You know, von Doom, you are a sharp one. I heard from the grapevine that a Rookwood was sniffing around about Ancient Magic, figured I would come along and check it out."
"Rookwood?" I asked, "Augustus Rookwood?"
I knew that name to belong to a future Death Eater.
Like puzzle pieces, everything started to fit together now.
I knew where my friends were taken.
AN: I rewrote this three times with different directions, but I figured this one is better. As always, tonight, at 11... DOOM!
Meet the Hero of Hogwarts, the MC of Hogwarts Legacy. Born in 1875, Aleister Crowley is a historical occult writer who would be exactly fifteen when the game takes place, so, I decided to expand upon what is there. He is not incompetent, he just never had first year classes, so sucks at teaching them in that way that really talented people might, like a pro-Snape from the OG Timeline. In real life, he passed in 1947, here he just retreated to the Magical World exclusively after skirting the edge of the Statute of Secrecy.
The fun part is, I can introduce DxD elements like Golden Dawn, which is based on a real Magic Cult, without letting Victor notice that it is from the tit-anime. It also lets me do something unique about the Light, Grey and Dark Factions that is more closer to British Politics and their naming sense.
As always, I am motivated by discussions, feedback, and criticism. If you wish to enable my coffee addiction, I made a ko-fi account here if you wish to support my work. I can only promise to spend the time drinking coffee writing my stories, and you get absolutely nothing else in return.Last edited: Aug 17, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:bddvil, Eggmanstan, DarkLight140 and 1,314 othersGuldsdoneMay 20, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 015: Silver of Doom View contentGuldsdoneWizarding WorksJun 24, 2025Add bookmark#1,631"So, Rookwood opened the Cursed Vaults," said Rakepick, following after us.
"Yes, because he is an idiot," I said, my grip around the Goblin Silver axe tightening. With my wand fried, I needed a weapon, and since I could cast my heavier spells without a wand, it was not a huge loss.
"Where does that put Professor Thimble... I mean Crowley?" asked Rakepick next. I let her and Black tag along as distraction mostly, but they were competent enough to hold their own.
"I decided to do some sneaking when I heard someone tried to pay off the Unspeakables for an Internship using an Ancient Magic Repository. The one in the Rookwood Castle had vanished, so I figured I might check out the one here," said Crowley, walking beside us like he did not just get struck by lightning after chugging a few vials of a green potion.
I would have left him behind as well, but he knew the entrance to the Ancient Magic Vaults, and I was running out of time.
"Why use Polyjuice?" I asked as we walked.
"Because he is a creep," said Bellatrix, "Aunt Walburga talked about you, a squib who stole power when he was fifteen. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black called you a menace to society."
"Well, your aunty Walburga is a prejudiced prune who was power hungry enough to seduce her fifteen-year-old cousin to make incest babies, so now you know how both of us feels about each other, eh lassy?" responded Crowley, making me like him more.
Anyone who thought Walburga Black was the worst was a good person in my books.
"Truth is, Albus and I... we don't get along," he said with a shrug. "Never forgave me for trying to feed him to the Acromantulas back when he was a first year and I was in my Seventh year. I never forgave how he was given all the credit for the Conjuration work we did despite both our names appearing on the paper because I did not get along with prissy purebloods."
"Conjuration work?" I asked as we entered the Library.
"Dumbledore and Crowley, Eighteen Ninety-Four," Crowley said, puffing out with pride.
"We figured out how to use a form of Ancient Magic to replace the Moonstone dust in conjurations. We also learned that vanishing those objects conjured with the Ancient Magic grants users the ability to use it in the most efficient way. They added it to the sixth-year curriculum for Transfiguration a year after that. It is why Hogwarts is the best school around for beginners, in my humble opinion. Our transfiguration department is without peer, thanks to me," he bragged as we entered the Library.
"Who are you?" asked Pince.
"Fuck, forgot the disguise. No time, Petrificus Totalus," he said simply, causing Pince to turn stiff and fall over.
"If they ask, I will claim you Imperiused us," I said with a straight face.
"Bah, I can handle Albus' disappointed look; it doesn't work on those older than him, now, this way," said Crowley as we entered the Restricted Section.
"You mentioned that Hogwarts was good for Beginners. What does that mean?" I asked.
"Hogwarts is a School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, lad, not Sorcery," he said, giving me a look. "Don't know where you learned yours, but there is more to study after you graduate. It is not as official as this, but Magic means we study on our own time. There are a few groups, more clubs, really."
'Free-Sorcerers,' I mentally noted. Those unattached to Kamar-Taj, who kept to their practices. I knew that they could exist in theory, but that they did exist made me realize the opportunity to learn more.
"And Golden Dawn is one of those groups?" I asked. Historically, my knowledge of Golden Dawn was sketchy at best. Some Occult Club during the early twentieth century that sounded like a mix of Greek Frat and a Cult.
"A bunch of Muggle-lovers," said Bellatrix with a snarl.
"Bella, behave," I said with a straight face, causing the older girl to flush.
"Hah... not really wrong. During the World Wars, we sorta helped the Muggle Government... discretely at least," explained Crowley, "Got us into hot water with the ICW and others, but it was the right thing to do. It is mostly made up of Muggleborn and tend to be more integrationist of the two cultures."
"There are others?" I asked.
"The Gray Wizards and Walpurgis Night," said Bellatrix simply, "First is more of a club for Nouveau riche, later is for pretentious purebloods only."
I considered the names Golden Dawn, Gray Wizards, and Walpurgis Night.
It reminded me of something, but I could not put my finger on it.
"Is it unofficial, or are they political?" I asked, as it just sounded like Light, Gray, and Dark factions I remembered from fanfiction.
"Bit of both, really," said Aleister, "Most care mostly about learning magic from different sources, but they are also formed around main political factions. Most just call them Light, Grey, and Dark, but never officially."
"So, the whole weird name thing is just British tradition then," I said, with just some annoyance.
"Like Tories and Whigs," he said with a cheery tone, "or Tories and Labour. See, we are not so different. Walpurgis Night wants to hunt muggles for sport, Gray Wizards only care about money, and Golden Dawn wants a better future for all."
Yes... I am sure that is all.
"Like Walpurgis Night does not want a better future for the Wizarding World, which has been led by Blacks for centuries," Bellatrix countered. "Muggles are a threat to our way of living."
"Any groups that are more militant?" I asked, ignoring the casual racism, knowing the answer even before I asked it.
Knights of Walpurgis... the pun made more sense now. They were what would become the Death Eaters, the Militant Dark that wanted to seed chaos and wrestle control with force, led by Riddle himself.
"There are some in every group," Aleister shrugged. "Most had their fill during the wars. The Great War was something alright, and the Second One... well, with so many cults running around thanks to Grindelwald, we were busy," said Aleister, flexing his fingers on his left hand.
I noticed something glimmer beneath the surface, an illusion that I was able to penetrate by pulling on the Soul dimension for a moment. I recognized the glint of Ancient Magic on his arm beneath the illusion.
"You got good eyes to notice that old thing," he said simply, the illusion fading as he noticed my gaze. "Grindelwald's personal gift. Ripped my arm clean off with a single spell. Left me alive but took his pound of flesh from me."
I nodded, allowing me to place him in the upper tiers of the scale... though I still did not have a reference for the likes of Dumbledore. I was sure he was not on the level of a Sorcerer Supreme, but he would be up there... may even be a potential candidate for the position for all I knew.
"We are here." the old man said, rubbing his hands and placing his palms on a wall, only for nothing to happen.
"Huh... someone locked it from the other side," said Crowley, frowning.
"Is that the only way?" asked Bellatrix, casually itching her hair with her wand.
"No, but the other one is in the forest and was overrun by an Acromantula Colony in the Forties," responded Crowley.
"Can you open it from this end?" I asked simply.
"Nah," responded Crowley.
"Look me in the eye," I said, instead sending a probe. I felt Crowleys rather sturdy defenses push back before he suppressed the reaction, instead bringing out the image of the area behind.
"What use is there, lad? You cannot apparate out of Hogwarts or into the Map Chamber behind this," said Crowley as I sighed.
I was not supposed to do this but fuck it. My promise to the Ancient One was to not use Sorcery against Death Eaters. That did not mean that I could not use it to get past walls... aslo, circumstances were deemed dire enough given tbe potential impact of unleashing Ancient Magic into the Wizarding World.
I took out the Sling Ring and put it on my left hand.
"Oh, I did not know they took in this young," commented Crowley with a smirk.
"Who are you talking about?" asked Rakepick.
"None of your concern, lassy," responded Crowley instead.
I ignored them, holding out the Sling Ring.
Construction-wise, the sling rings worked on the same principles as Apparition but with added capabilities that were from the materials used in its construction.
The Ancient One had told me that it was made from Orichalcum, and my own experience with it revealed the micro-runic inscriptions in three dimensions within it.
What I had missed was that the negative space of the runes was filled with Phoenix Ash, allowing the Space energies to mix with the Phoenix Force to allow long-range transportation using the principles behind the Phoenix Fire Apparition.
It also meant that, yes, it was possible to Portal in and out of Hogwarts... at least in the case of an emergency.
I used the image I glimpsed from the mind of Aleister Crowley, working to create a portal.
It sputtered out.
"The energy density in there must be too large and disruptive," muttered Crowley, "So, you work for the Ancient One, huh, lad. Should have seen it coming, with how you fight."
"Met him?" I asked, deliberately misgendering the bald lady.
"I have saved... her pert little-arse from trouble more than a few times," he responded with a smirk, catching on. "How is the old hag?"
I suppressed the urge to gag.
"You are not that good," I responded instead, pointing the axe blade in my other hand.
"If I wanted you dead, lad, you would be dead, and no one would have found the body," responded Aleister.
"Might have pulled a hip or something, but I admit that you are pretty spry for a one-armed octogenarian," I shot back.
"It is nonagenarian, actually," responded Crowley with a smirk.
"You were still a shit teacher," I countered, my grin showing teeth.
"Can you two not do that?" asked Rakepick. "Whatever that is."
I noted that I was projecting my Killing Intent as an aura... having matched the one that Crowley was giving off on instinct.
"What is the next plan, lad?" asked Crowley, letting me take charge.
The time window to get my friends to safety was slowly closing, and we did not have time to waste... even if it meant going through the long way.
I hefted the goblin steel axe I borrowed from Crowley.
"It is spider season," I said with a savage grin.
---
The axe whirled around us in my telekinetic grip, chopping through the unending hordes of black Acromantulas as it glowed with Chi.
Because, of course, Aragog had made his nest around the entrance to the Ancient Magic Trials. It explained why Dumbledore never bothered to relocate them.
"Arania Exumai," Patricia and Bellatrix kept casting while Crowley was using ever more complex and esoteric methods to get rid of them, including shrinking the size of a small car into the size of a normal spider and crushing it beneath his heel. I needed to learn that trick... it reminded me of Pym's whole deal.
I moved my fingers, conjuring a Mandala while thinking, 'By the Bouncing Bolts of Balthakk,' as the Lightning Bolt leaped from spider to spider, enhanced with Chi that had the bolt killing them by the dozen as it split into two after each hit, feeding on the life force.
I mentally filed that for later experimentation.
As we butchered more than half of the unending horde, an arrow whizzed past my head, embedding itself into the eye of a spider about to leap onto me.
"Centaurs," Patricia gasped while Bellatrix looked around, ready to fight them as well.
"We greet you, Knight of Green," said the centaur in the lead.
"I greet you, Magorian," I responded in turn. "What brings you here?"
"We foresaw the Doom of many within the Forest tonight," he responded, "And came to join the one who would lead this Wild Hunt."
"Your aid is appreciated," I responded, mostly to be kind while ignoring the implications of calling this a Wild Hunt, "but not needed."
"Indeed," responded Magorian, looking at the butchery around us, "Yet by cutting down the brood of Aragog, you have shifted the balance of their conflict. Yet, it is not our place to question one who would claim Dominion over Time. Your actions shall allow life to thrive in the forest, Knight of Green; for that, you have the thanks of the Centaurs," Magorian pulled out a bundle from his satchel and presented it. "A gift and payment for deeds done."
I inspected the fabric, feeling some sort of magic woven into the fabric.
"It is the silk from the first Acromantula you have slain. It shall not fray with ease," said Magorian. 'A tribute and an item that belongs to you,' I translated.
More centaurs appeared from the woods, "I shall take my leave, for Mars hangs high in the sky this night," the centaur said, giving a nod and galloping away.
"What is the Knight of Green?" asked Rakepick, barely above a whisper
"No clue," I admitted as I walked past them to the entrance of the first Ancient Magic Trial.
I really did not have time for Fae-bullshit.
---
"So, can we, like, speedrun this?" I asked, "Given Professor Crowley here has already completed them?"
"This is Old Magic, lad," said Aleister, leaning against the wall and being ignored by the statues filled with Magic. "You have to earn the passage."
I raised my hand, sending a bolt of lightning that bounced from one to the next before it had already gone through the entire army of Magic Knights, blowing them to bits.
"I am underwhelmed," I responded, walking past them.
"Quiet impressive, young Victor," said Crowley, keeping pace. "That was a Sorcery, wasn't it?"
Soon, we were ready to go into the Map Chamber.
I stopped for a moment to take stock of my arsenal.
A burned-out wand was not of much use.
A Goblin Silver Axe was my main weapon.
I had my grandfather's Luger, enchanted with Salvio Hexia to work in the presence of magic without jamming. The more impressive features, however, were the bullets I made for it. The Luger came with a full magazine of nine-millimeter lead bullets, ones that I personally re-cast while enchanting the lead with the General Counter-Spell, Finite.
It was mostly a philosophical dare on myself to figure out a way to make shield-piercing rounds that removed the only advantage of the Unforgivable, and they were quite useful against shield charm.
My bracelet had three charges left, three heavy shields of Sorcery.
An EMP granade charged with a Bolt of Balthakk came in last; the rest of my loot was not really around.
As for armor, I had my enchanted and rune-etched breastplate and the new Green Acromantula Silk Cloak around my shoulders that made me look like a chibi-Doctor Doom... sans the Doctorate.
It was not much, but it would have to do for now.
---
The ritual circle was the first thing I noted, along with the three bodies inside the circle along with, the four would-be Death Eaters, and a broken silvery orb the size of a car... well, three of them looked to be standing in the circle while Rosier was knocked out in the corner for some reason.
I recognized the design of the circle.
That was the worst part.
"Lad, we need a plan," was all Crowley could say as I leaped forward with no time left to hesitate.
The circle was one of Cogliostro's works... or at least parts of it shared similarities to what I knew to be his works. It was a power transfer ritual of some sort that I did not have time to unravel fully.
Instead, I chose to join the fray, hoping to use my skill in Dark Arts to rip and consume the energies being released just as I cast the last three shields from my bracelet over the unconscious bodies of my friends.
I felt the power flood into me.
Then came the emotions, a tide of despair crashing into my mind and washing away my Mental Shields.
---
# Augustus Rookwood
Augustus did not consider himself to be evil... but he knew that in the path to gaining wisdom, sacrifices had to be made.
He considered himself the quintessential Ravenclaw, seeking understanding at any cost. When he was sorted into the House of the Wise, he chose to spend this chance... wisely.
He had spent his years in Hogwarts looking for answers... answers to how the world worked, how magic worked, to see how everything fit together, to understand his place in it all.
And all he found were more questions.
It was why he wished to be an Unspeakable.
They were researchers that much everyone knew. They were the only group in the Wizarding World who were officially sanctioned to know more about magic than the pesky rules had allowed.
He had gone so far as to bribe them with the remains of the Rookwood Ancient Magic Repository, a relic that his failure of parents did not even care about, being some simple office workers in the Ministry.
Then... nothing.
He did not hear back from the Department of Mysteries... his owls were left unanswered, and somehow, Augustus knew.... he just knew it was because of a single variable.
Victor von Doom.
The First Year had come in like a storm, upending the delicate balance and peace that he had.
He seemed to be the only person the Professor cared about; at least, that was what McGonagall seemed intent on showing with that useless spell the boy had claimed to have invented.
As if a simple-minded eleven-year-old could write such a high-level research.
As it were, it did not matter when the boy's mere presence had caused his plans to be foiled.
Or at least... it had been so until he got a special letter.
It was from a wizard, one who claimed to have similar interests as him. At first, Augustus was dismissive as they never met in person. That distrust, however, changed.
Clearly, his genius was recognized, and some of the details his new friend shared answered more questions than he thought he had, leaving him hungry for more answers.
Augustus had gone so far as to share the secrets of Ancient Magic or what little there was to it from his Great Uncle Victor's ramblings in his diary.
It had taken Augustus a few efforts to locate the greater Repository beneath Hogwarts, yet a problem remained.
The Ancient Magic Repository was tainted.
It contained Negative Emotions woven into the magic that would have any Wizard absorb it and turn into something worse... and the closest thing Augustus could think of was an Obscurus.
He had shared his findings with his mentor, who had written back with an answer... an Ancient Ritual of some sort. And all he had requested in exchange for his wisdom was to share it with the children of some of his friends that Augustus already knew.
Lestrange Brothers and Rosier.
The detailed instructions to purify and absorb any tainted power source at the cost of a sacrifice... someone to take on the negative emotions, leaving the energy to be absorbed by the caster.
One sacrifice per person being empowered.
Sometimes, sacrifices were necessary for the sake of progress.
Luckily, the sacrifices themselves were already decided, or at least the Lestrange Brothers had decided it.
The undesirables, for lack of a better term, the outcasts of Slytherin. A couple of nobodies who were only propped up by the fraud that was von Doom.
The original plan had been to include von Doom as well, as Augustus wanted to show the know-it-all his proper place, but the three idiots he was saddled with were incapable of getting to the boy.
Leading them to the problem of having three sacrifices and four casters.
Lestrange Brothers had solved that issue by stunning Evan Rosier. The Fifth year was not of consequence, and Rodolphus was much more interested in ensuring his younger brother got the power.
Once they took on the Ancient Magic into themselves, Augustus was certain that they could get the von Doom boy and ensure Evan had the leftovers as well.
Everything was set up.
Everything was going according to plan.
Then, as the ritual started and the Ancient Magic was pulled from the wretched Goblin Silver construct, something... someone landed between them and their sacrifices.
To say that such an act was foolish was to say that the sky was blue.
Rituals were finicky at best. Sorcerous Rituals of the scale that Augustus was able to learn was downright dangerous to change, something that he was glad his friend was able to solve.
And, of course, it had to be that fool von Doom.
Then, the entire ritual was destabilized.
Instead of the Mudbloods, the power went through to the stupid fraud, as he absorbed the entire collective negative emotions of hundreds of students that tainted the Ancient Magic Repository.
As Augustus' ritual worked to pour the Ancient Magic from von Doom into the three superior Wizards, he could not help but smile.
von Doom was left in the middle of the circle, fallen on his knees, head bowed down.
Rabastan was now laughing, seeing the wretched boy who had attacked him cravenly.
Augustus did not particularly care about the boy that much. It was likely that the ritual would leave him broken.
No man had the will to hold so much darkness, after all.
Then something strange happened.
Augustus noticed the small whisp of white escape from the boy's fingertips... maybe some sort of accidental magic.
Instead, Victor von Doom's head rose, his eyes glazed over with the emotions as he roared, a roar of pain and defiance, something closer to the roar of a dragon than a civilized person.
The whisp of white energy now covered his entire being, his body slowly levitating until he was back on his two feet, facing them.
The energy flooded outward, washing away the larger circle and knocking Lestranges back.
Augustus was more prepared, pulling on his new power to cast a silver shield.
The boy was now standing, engulfed in an inferno of some sort of a pure white energy field... something that should be impossible given the containment of the Ritual Circle.
The runes made it so only the one who inscribed it could cast spells within unless they had the strength to overpower it, at least.
The white energy, for a moment, took the form of two draconic wings as the energy engulfed the now-drained remains of the Goblin Silver Repository that Augustus and the Lestrange brothers had absorbed.
The metal groaned and shattered into smaller pieces, glowing with the same pearlescence light as the pieces floating around the now-standing von Doom.
It was useless. The magic within the metal was long gone. While Goblin Silver took on the magic that made it stronger, the Dark Magic that was of the Ritual broke it apart, leaving nothing within... yet a part of Augustus whispered that it was important. That what was happening was important.
Rodolphus acted first, sending a silvery spell empowered by bottomless power that was now theirs... only for the spell to be swept aside by the now circling magic around von Doom.
And when von Doom turned to face Augustus, the boy whispered a single word... some sort of an incantation clearly.
The inferno of pearlescent energy collapsed, the pieces of silver following along as it formed into some sort of an armor around the boy.
Silvery armor, with a billowing green cloak.
And a mask that brought a chill to Augustus' spine.
Yet beyond all... all Augustus wanted to ask was, 'What sort of a spell is Kaio-ken?'
But all he could speak out was, "What..."
Then he was punched in the face.
AN: Not sure about the chapter as a whole. A bit of politics, a bit of Doom slowly blurring the lines of hero and landing somewhere in the horror movie villain for the junior Death Eaters there.
The combined negative emotions of a few thousand teenagers caused Victor to go into effective Dragon Outrage mode and fully unlock his Touki.
Being an overachiever, Victor used the Touki to bend the now Ancient Magic Repository into the shape of a suit of armor around him... because he might just be ready to go full Doom.
And so the first iteration of the Tin Tyrant is there.
Rodolphus Lestrange
Everything had gone right.
The ritual had been done.
The power was his.
Then Augustus was punched in the face by a Firstie.
Not just any Firstie thought... by Doom.
Rodolphus hurled a spell at the now armored bastard.
The mudblood took the spell head-on, whatever magic he used absorbing the spell, as the silver of the armor darkened somewhat.
"Bombarda," he cast, before the spell was slapped away by Doom.
The same happened with Rabastan's Reductor hitting one of the large stalactites.
Out of instinct, Rodolphus reached, his magic catching one of the large pieces of rock and hurling it at the armored figure.
This was no spell he knew, but it seemed as natural as breathing.
The rock, twice the size of Doom, pushed him back, throwing him across the cavern and crushing him.
They got him.
Then the rock rose and was thrown to the side, revealing the silvery armor of Doom.
The demon before them slowly walked, closing the distance with each step.
"What does it take to stop that bastard?" asked Rabastan.
"Get Rookwood," Rodolphus said, preparing the strongest spell he knew.
"Carpe Retractum," Rabastan cast, pulling the knocked-out Rookwood behind them as Rodolphus raised his wand and yelled out the most powerful shield spell he knew, to put something between themselves and the monster before them.
"PROTEGO DIABOLICA!!!" he roared, spawning black flames that worked to form a line between them and death.
"Reneverate," cast Rabastan, causing Augustus to jump wide awake after getting punched in the face. If not for the way his new magic worked, Rodolphus was certain that Rookwood would not have made it.
"Merlin, what is that?" asked Rookwood, seeing the barrier made of black flames.
"Lestrange Family Magic," said Rodolphus, and not even lying at that.
It was the spell used by Grindelwald to burn down the Lestrange Moseleum in Paris. It had taken a lot of political effort to learn of the spell. Their father had been the one to finally rework the Arithmancy for it.
It was no Fiendfyre, but it was controllable, a perfect defensive magic with good enough bite to it.
And the beauty of it, Rodolphus noted, was that it could not be cancelled with anything less than a Sevenfold Aggripan Counter-spell array that required seven different wizards to cast the general Counter-Spell in equidistant locations in a close interval.
There was no way a single person could achieve that.
Certainly, it would stop Doom and cook him in that medieval armor he was wearing now.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Seven loud bangs, like claps of thunder.
The fire winked out, as Rodolphus saw Doom holding some sort of metal contraption in his hand that was clearly not a wand.
It was pointed at Rodolphus.
"Protego!" he roared, bringing up a shield.
BANG!
His shield shattered, as he felt warm sweat fall from his brow.
Someone was yelling.
The edges of his vision started to darken as Rodolphus reached to wipe off the sweat.
Why was it red?
---
# Augustus Rookwood
The muggle weapon punched a hole through Rodolphus' head, causing him to fall, his eyes still open even in death.
That made no sense.
Wizards were superior to Muggles.
The weapons used by Muggles would jam, unable to counter the natural accidental magic of a person who acted to protect them. Even if they did not jam, they would simply miss or get blocked by a shield spell.
They should not work as some strange counter-charm to cancel powerful curses, or pass through shields like they were some sort of an Unforgivable.
"NO!" roared Rabastan, reacting to his older brother's death, "CRUCIO!"
The bolt of red slammed into Doom.
And it did absolutely nothing.
The next moment, Doom was standing next to Rabastan and holding a heart.
The Ancient Magic was roiling around the heart, only to be slowly siphoned to Doom's armor somehow.
Augustus took this chance to channel his new ancient magic, transforming giant armored figures between himself and Doom, doing his best to put everything between himself and this monster.
Doom went through the animated knights as though walking through a park, each of his strikes diminishing the magic as he siphoned it into himself.
The lightning Rookwood threw was caught and consumed as well.
This was not supposed to happen.
None of this was supposed to happen.
What was this thing he was fighting?
Augustus wanted to get away.
He wanted to run away.
As if to answer his desperation, his magic answered, forming silvery raven wings behind him.
The next moment, Augustus was flying without a broom.
Hah... of course he was flying. He was a genius after all.
Now, in the air, Doom could not reach him.
Then Doom walked to one of the rocks and threw it at him. The fact that the rock was around his size did not even bother him.
He missed by a small margin, but it was not far enough to be a comfort.
Augustus reached within, unleashing the full wrath of his new power.
A stream of silvery energy slammed where Doom was standing, continuing for nearly a minute until Augustus felt his energy drain.
Augustus cursed himself.
Without the stabilization ritual, the power he held was temporary, and he was wasting time.
Granted, if he did not survive, the power did not matter.
Then something flew past him, something silvery, again missing him.
The beam of magic died down, leaving behind a crater and nothing else.
Augustus had got him.
Then behind him, he heard something. The only time he had was realizing that the silvery thing that flew past him was not a rock but rather Doom himself.
"FOOT DIVE!" he heard as two feet crashed into the back of his neck, throwing him to the ground.
The silver wings wrapped themselves around him to shield him from the impact, and even with the unlimited power in his fingertips, he was barely able to hold onto consciousness.
Fingers, covered in an armor of silver, wrapped themselves around his neck.
In a last-ditch effort, Augustus unleashed all the Ancient Magic he had absorbed, wings of magic slamming into the armor-clad form of Doom... only to sink into his armor, getting absorbed.
Augustus did not understand.
He did everything correctly.
He accounted for every variable.
As his vision darkened, as all that he could feel were the fingers wrapped around his neck... Augustus realized that it did not matter.
He was simply Doomed.
---
# Doom
Wrath...
That was the one feeling that I could hold onto...
Wrath...
Objectively, what I had done was stupid. Jumping into the middle of a Ritual Circle, for an unknown spell... that was the height of foolishness.
Yet, I had done it.
I had done it for those three children that I had taken under my wing.
And when the emotions flooded... the cocktail of rage, depression, anxiety, and a thousand more, I understood what the Ritual was for... and why it would fail.
Not because the emotions could not overwhelm me...
But because when they pressed upon me, triggering the simple yet evolutionary need of the fight, flight, and freeze mechanism deep in my brain... There was only one choice.
For Doom did not freeze.
For Doom did not flee.
So, I raged, pouring my wrath into my Chi and shaping it into my armor.
And facing these three vermin who would sacrifice three eleven-year-old children, the sentence was already determined.
Their continued state of living offended Doom.
So, as I pulled the Chi into a thin film around my body, bending the already pretty damaged Goblin Silver lying around into plates of armor, I knew what needed to be done.
Discombobulate...
First step in ensuring you win.
Because everyone had a plan until they got punched in the face... as Tyson had once said.
Next was a series of tests, ensuring structural integrity of the armor, which I found satisfactory as I made note of certain improvements.
I did not expect the Protego Diabolica.
What I knew, however, was the principles of Sevenfold Aggripan Counter-spell, and the fact that it was what was used in France by Flamel and Scamanders.
So I improvised, using the last bullet in the eight-bullet capacity Luger to take out the elder Lestrange.
Followed by the second one, as I did not have the means to counter a second casting of that particular spell.
The Cruciatus Curse was not expected, though compared to the emotional termoil that I was disassociating from myself, it was merely a speed bump.
Reserving Rookwood to the last was a tactical decision as well, ensuring that he would spend his magic so that I could absorb it.
And when he was not left with anything but what he started with, the hands around his neck ensured he would never prove a threat to Doom.
'OG Doom was right, it is quite hard to choke a man to death,' my mind noted.
"Victor?" asked someone as I stood up. It was Aleister Crowley, who seemed alone.
I watched him carefully.
"Mister Crowley?" I responded, as a burst of cursed flames consumed Rookwood and the Lestrange Brothers.
"The rocks knocked out Black and Rakepick," he said simply, "or was it a stunner... we shall never know. They did not see what happened here."
"And that is important because?" I asked in turn.
The bodies of Rookwood and Lestrange Brothers were consumed by a cursed flame.
"It means when I state that I killed Rookwood, I will be taken seriously," said Crowley, making me uncertain. "It will all be neatly hidden away under Department of Mysteries jurisdiction, of course, Mister Rookwood, using a ritual to murder Messiers Lestrange to hide the presence of Ancient Magic."
"I suppose you expect me to relinquish the power," I said, holding my hands.
"Keep it, lad," said Crowley, "It will be safer in your hands than in this place."
I nodded. A tug at the bond I had made had the armor vanish around me, as Alfie brought it to my lab beneath Hogsmeade.
"That leaves only one issue," I responded, lacking any armor.
"Right, suppressing your emotions is not healthy," said Crowley.
I placed a finger to my temple, removing the memories and emotions that I had isolated and removed.
Their purpose was done, their presence used to temper my willpower.
The memory floated, slowly darkening from a silvery strand into a tendril of smoke that started folding in on itself.
Then the smoke changed within seconds.
First, a skeletal hand came to be, rotten and ethereal.
Then the facsimile of a face formed beneath the smoke that solidified.
"So, that is how those come to be," said Crowley.
The Dementor stood before us.
I reached out and threw the Banishing Grenade, causing the Dementor to pop like a balloon, as it was shredded by arcing bolts of Sorcerous Lightning.
Just because Wizarding spells did not work on those things did not mean there was no other way.
And the best part of it all, I had not used one spell that a Sorcerer from Kamar Taj would use during the whole thing.
---
We woke everyone up, making sure to carefully get them to the Infirmary, where Madam Pompfrey started to go over everyone, ensuring that no one was hurt badly.
Dumbledore seemed furious with our fake professor, but his reaction seemed to have no effect on the older wizard.
Three dead purebloods were a bad thing, but Evan Rosier had survived, his memories modified by Crowley to ensure his events matched with the official story.
DMLE got involved, then a few hooded figures from Department of Mysteries came in... it was a lot of bureaucracy.
Soon, the events were all declared Unspeakable, everyone being forced to give carefully worded Unbreakable Vows to not speak of the events.
Everyone sort of assumed that with the death of the trio of would-have-been Death Eaters, the Ancient Magic had simply died with them.
"I have no idea what you have done, Mister von Doom," said Madam Pompfrey, coming to me at last. "Your body is undergoing both a Magical Saturation and Exhaustion at the same time. I will have to recommend taking it easy with magic until further notice for your safety. Good thing the summer break is upon us; it should ensure that you get plenty of rest... and no magic if you can help it."
I sighed, before nodding.
My knowledge of magic was growing, but I was not such a fool as to ignore the opinion of experts just because it was inconvenient.
Then came the part that I was least looking forward to.
Meeting with Dumbledore...
The man had the tenacity of a bloodhound and ability to tell when something was hidden from him.
Which was stupid since the Fiendfyre that Crowley unleashed ensured the removal of any magical method of determining any previous events.
"Victor, how have you been since we last spoke?" asked Dumbledore after two minutes of silence as both of us waited for the other to start.
Joke's on you, old man. No one can do a power play on Doom.
"I do not mourn for them," I responded simply.
"Whether or not you should is a decision that you have to come up with, Victor," said Dumbledore simply.
"I was expecting something about second chances," I responded in turn. "That is the interpretation I had of you from your past actions."
Dumbledore chuckled.
Everyone knew that he had stood against the execution of Grindelwald, despite everything.
It had not made him any allies, and made him the butt of the joke for most of the European wizarding world, or so the papers seemed to suggest from what I had read through.
"Mister Rookwood and Messers Lestranges were some of the brightest students to walk these halls, Victor. As an educator who watched them grow and make mistakes, I mourn for them," he said silently, "Yet their actions would have caused more damage than good, and while I mourn the children they were, I do not have sympathy for the man they seemed to have determined to become. Make no mistake, my boy, anyone who wishes to harm another student under my protection does not have the same protections as their victims."
"Right," I said, "so what is the other thing you wanted to discuss in your note..."
"Ah, that would be your summer plans," said Dumbledore. "As I understand, you are an orphan."
"I don't see how that is something relevant to you, Professor," I responded simply, nipping any form of control he might wish to impose upon me. "My plans outside the school are of no relevance to the school staff."
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, "yet, I would still like to remind you that the world out there is dangerous, especially for underage wizards, given that you are not allowed to use magic. I also wanted to remind you that the removal of the Trace from an underage witch or wizard is grounds for a hefty fine and a stay in Azkaban, not to mention expulsion should the one doing the removing be underage as well. This is also specifically for the removal of the Trace, not any other means of working around it."
"Good to know," I said, leaving partially annoyed.
---
After spending a week meditating, reading, and generally relaxing, the year was over, and the feast was underway.
The missing chair of the Defense Professor was all that was left from Aleister Crowley was all I had of the old man, along with an open invitation to join Golden Dawn. It was not a prospect I considered unless I had to leave Hogwarts, but it was good to have alternatives.
Bellatrix had been uniquely useful during those few days, seemingly defending me and my friends from the other Slytherins.
Not that the rest of the Slytherins cared much after the death of Lestrange Brothers.
The fact that I was present when they died had led to the rise of multiple conspiracy theories, some of which were close to what had happened. I could even see Dumbledore's eyes following me.
On the other hand, Evan Rosier only survived because he was knocked out and not part of the ritual.
On the other hand, Lily and Meggan were... different.
"I want you to teach me how to fight," Lily and Meggan said at once, as we sat one day next to the Black Lake.
"Not this year," I said, letting the Nature Energy flow through me. "But starting next year, I think it is a good idea."
"Mister von Doom, there you are," said the voice of an adult.
"Madame Hooch," I greeted the woman.
She was carrying a broom.
"I have not had a student fail my class since I got here, and I shall not do so now, especially not over something as stupid as pride," said Madame Hooch. "Now, I will have to ask you to fly on this broomstick so I can pass you, lest you get expelled."
Severus snickered.
Yeah... I was not going to ride a broom like a normy.
I really needed to invent that flight spell, huh?
Right, I had forgotten about that.
A few mental iterations, using the few spells of relevance and running the mental Arithmancy, and I had it.
'Levicorpo Mobilis,' I mentally tested, feeling my body lighter.
The spell did not cut off so much as formed an open connection as I willed myself to slowly rise before the flight professor.
"Yes, very funny, young man," said Hootch, pointing her wand at me.
I felt the general counter-spell wash over me, not working on the specialized spell.
"That is not... You are not using levitation on your clothes..." she whispered.
I leaned sideways, my robes fluttering around me as I made a few loops above the Black Lake before landing on my feet.
A single year's magical education, and I had already surpassed their so-called Dark Lord in skill.
And I did not even need a Cloak of Levitation for it.
Hah... suck on that, Strange.
On the Principles of Self-Determined Continuous Locomotion: An Arithmantic Proof and Practical Guide to Unsupported Flight
by Victor Werner von Doom
"The skies are not a privilege. They are territory to be taken, with precision, calculation, and intent." — V. von Doom
Archieved Record found in Latverian Association of Sorcerous Sciences, recorded under the History of the Common Flight Spell.
Abstract
Unsupported flight is the grail of locomotion charms. For generations, engineers and mages alike have dreamt of conquering the skies, remaining reliant on primitive implements, wings and engines in the case of engineers and brooms, carpets, or symbiotic artifacts like cloaks of levitation for the case of mages. These are crutches, indicative of an incomplete understanding of the fundamental forces of reality. This paper presents the first Arithmantically stable spell with the capabilities of continuous, self-guided, unsupported flight. Herein, we present the charm, Levicorpo Mobilis, arithmantically proving its stability and its logical derivation from pre-existing, albeit flawed, spellwork. This work supersedes all prior attempts and establishes the definitive method for aerial dominion.
I. Introduction
The pursuit of flight has been marred by a lack of scientific rigor. The Basic Levitation Charm (Incantation: Levioso) and Controlled Levitation Charm (Incantation: Wingardium Leviosa) is only capable of lifting objects of limited mass and requires constant redirection. Brooms and other enchanted conveyances are subject to mechanical failure, atmospheric interference, and the inherent limitations of their enchantments. More esoteric methods, such as animagi transformations or potion-induced states, such as those that utilize Billywig venom, are temporary, inefficient, and often undignified.
These methods fail because they treat magic as an appeal to an external force. They do not understand that true power is the imposition of a structured, quantified will upon the fabric of reality. The component spells from which my own work is derived, Levicorpus (to lift a body) and Mobilicorpus (to move a body), are themselves blunt instruments. Levicorpus is an uncontrolled hoist, and Mobilicorpus is a mere puppetry charm. Both lack the numerological stability required for sustained, self-directed action. In this paper, I present Levicorpo Mobilis, the refinement and perfection of previously existing locomotion spells.
II. Spell Overview
Incantation: Levicorpo MobilisSpell Class: Continuous Locomotion Charm — Intent-DrivenEnergy Source: Mental directive + Field harmonic extractionDuration: Indefinite (requires sustained neural focus)IIa. Arithmantic & Numerological Foundations
The stability and efficacy of Levicorpo Mobilis are not matters of chance or talent, but of mathematical certainty. The spell is constructed upon an Arithmantic equation designed for perpetual balance and control. We present the Primary and Secondary Arithmantic Analysis of the spell structure in Eq.1 and 2 respectively, and provide a complete analysis of the underlying numerological foundation of the spell. The Arithmantic Analysis combines 52 for `Levicorpo` and 34 for `Mobilis`.
52+34 → 86 → 14 → 5 (Eq. 1)
52+34 → 7 + 7 (Eq. 2)
Primary Arithmancy:
1. The First Component: The Action (52) The number `52` represents the intended action upon the self.
- `5` is the number of Transformation and Translocation. It is the prime numerical agent of change, the desire to move from one state (terrestrial) to another (aerial).
- `2` is the number of Duality. In this context, it represents the caster and their destination, the origin and the endpoint, the will and its execution. It introduces a necessary tension that prevents the transformative power of `5` from becoming chaotic. It binds the transformation to a defined duality.
2. The Second Component: The Stabilizer (34) The number `34` provides the foundational stability that all previous flight attempts have lacked.
- `3` represents Terrestrial Stability. It is the number of the tripod, the pyramid—structures inherently stable with respect to the ground. It anchors the spell's levitative force, preventing the uncontrolled ascent or tumbling characteristic of `Levicorpus`.
- `4` represents Cardinal Stability. It is the number of the compass points, the physical seasons, the square. It provides a framework for directed movement, allowing the caster's will to impose a specific vector (North, South, Up, Down) upon the levitating body.
3. The First Synthesis and Reduction: The Proof of Flight (86) The combination and reduction of these values reveal the spell's core mechanic.
- Summation: 52+34=86. The number `8` symbolizes Infinity, cyclical power, and harnessed potential, allowing for the continuous sustained application of the spell. The number `6` represents harmony and the physical form. Their combination, `86`, is the Arithmantic expression of `perpetual power applied to the physical body in balance`.
- First Reduction: 8+6=14. This is the critical stage of control. Here, the equation distills into its two most essential concepts.
- `1`: The Self. The individual, the caster's will, the singular point of command.
- `4`: Balance. The previously established Cardinal Stability.
The resulting value of `14` thus represents The Self (`1`) in absolute control of a Balanced System (`4`). This is the Arithmantic linchpin that prevents deviation from the intended path.
- Second Reduction: 1+4=5. The equation resolves back to the number of Transportation. The return to the initial component forms a circle that further sustains the continuous sustainment of the spell. It is directed, sustained and controlled translocation.
Secondary Arithmancy of the First Synthesis (7 + 7):
The stability of individual words of the incantation at the stage of first synthesis provide a duplicate sevens. The numerology for seven indicate magical stability, wisdom, spirituality, and intuition. Being the largest single digit prime number, the double 7 indicate the requirement of cancellation by the caster, making the spell Arithmantically impossible to negate mid-flight without the consent of the caster. Furthermore, the spell controls are based on the caster's intuition rather than requiring a specific set of instruction. Finally, the twinning of the sevens indicate a structural stability that requires the target's consent in sustaining the spell as the controls are bound to the individual who is levitating.
IIb. Semantic Analysis
Levicorpo, meaning I levitate the body is a derivation of the Dangling Jinx (incantation: Levicorpus, counter: Liberacorpus), a substandard prank spell designed to yank a person into the air by their feet. While the original spell structure has a connotations to the Hanged Man of the Tarot, along with older more mythical anchors for spells, it lacks the control aspects of required for sustained flight, even as it is able to be applied to individuals unlike the Basic Controlled Levitation Charm.
Mobilis, meaning mobile is a modification of the Mobilicorpus Charm to allow for the body to be moved in the air. The incantation is linked to the first word through the shared sub-structure, corpus, by leveraging the method of Inverted Spell Chaining first presented Ronen et al. 1889, which is not repeated to prevent redundance.
Combined semantic analysis of the incantation reads as I levitate and move the body. While theoretically capable of being applied to a third party, the spell structure requires continous consent of the target, making it's applications limited to self-casting.
III. Casting Details
Mental Framing: Discard the notion of "flying." Visualize yourself suspended by invisible, rigid pulleys connected directly to your own intent. You are not floating; you are occupying a precise, willed coordinate in three-dimensional space.Verbal Cast: Utter Levicorpo Mobilis. The incantation must be spoken with a precise rhythm: a rising, lifting tone on Levicorpo; a forward, declarative tone on Mobilis.Breath-Coupled Lift: Inhale fully before the verbal component. The initial lift is triggered by a sharp, controlled exhalation synchronized precisely with the final syllable of the incantation.Nerve Line Tension: Activate intentional muscle priming in the feet, calves, and spine for initial lift. This provides the bioelectric template for the spell's levitative vector. Do not jump; to do so is to admit a lack of faith in the Arithmantic principles and will destabilize the initial lift. The spell lifts you.Vector Control: Direction is dictated by minute shifts in posture and focused visualization. To move forward, shift your center of intent slightly forward. To ascend, focus on a higher coordinate. It is a neural process, not a physical one.
IV. Additional Experiments
Spell NameSpell IncantationMax LoadDirection ControlSustained FlightVulnerable to Anti-Magic?Basic Levitation CharmLevioso15kgNoneNoYesControlled Levitation CharmWingardium Leviosa150kgPartialNoYesDangling JinxLevicorpus90kgNoneNoRequires Counter-Charm (Liberacorpus)Mobilicorpus CharmMobilicorpus80kgPartialNoYesUnsupported Flight SpellLevicorpo MobilisCaster mass (Tested upwards of 150kg)Full (Neural)Yes (Indefinite)Limited to Target Intent Cancellation (7+7 anchoring)Table I: Full Analysis of Related Works and experimental results showing capabilities of our spell compared to baselines.
Table I presents the comparison of each related locomotion spell, showing that the Unsupported Flight Spell presented in this paper outperforms all the baselines in capabilities. The maximum load has been tested on individuals of upwards of 150kg by consenting professionals.
V. Safety Precautions
Do not cast in enclosed locations with low ceilings.Do not cast while inebriated. Impaired neural feedback will result in oscillatory motion and possible inversion.Avoid prolonged flight above 10,000 feet unless spell paired with a set of additional spells.Bubblehead Charm for continued respiratory functions at high altitude.Warming Charm to counter adverse weather conditions.In the event of unintentional spell failure (due to mental fatigue, injury, or foreign interference), execute the Slowing Charm (Incantation: Arresto Momentum).Use only in jurisdictions that have legalized magical aerial traversal.
VI. Conclusion
Levicorpo Mobilis is more than a spell; it is a statement of magical mastery. It demonstrates that the mysteries of magic are merely scientific principles not yet understood by lesser minds. Through rigorous Arithmantic analysis and a disciplined application of will, what was once a fanciful dream is now a quantifiable, replicable, and controllable reality. The skies no longer belong to the birds or to those reliant on crude artifacts. They belong to those with the intellect to comprehend and the will to command.
ADDENDUM 1.1: TACTICAL APPLICATIONS
Further research into offensive vectoring, silent high-altitude insertion, and kinetic force multiplication based on this charm's framework is underway. All findings are classified Level Alpha by Latverian Air Force and are the exclusive property of the Latverian State. Unauthorized attempts to replicate this research will be treated as an act of espionage.
"What have you done to your wand, Mister von Doom?" asked an annoyed Ollivander.
I had only stuck around the train station to give a greeting to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, who had come to get Lily. Meggan, who was staying with them for a few days, also left with them. Meanwhile, I used the opportunity to pass a message to Tonks after learning that his father was a lawyer.
"Lightning struck it," I explained, without giving details.
"Lightning struck it..." repeated Ollivander, not believing. "I will have you know, Mister von Doom, that my wands are capable of channelling complex sorceries. They may not be Sorcerous Artifacts specialized, but they are quite good at..."
WROOM!
I lowered my hand, letting the Bolt of Balthakk, amped by Ancient Magic, stop.
"That would do it, I suppose," said Ollivander with a sigh. "The core is the issue, what were you thinking channeling so much lightning through dragon heartstring, I will never know."
He then proceeded to throw the wand away like trash, as I sighed. Lightning and dragons did not get along, I had to remind myself, Chaoskampf was the name of it, the Lightning God always defeated the Dragon.
"Oh, a friend also told me to give you this," I said, handing him a sliver of Goblin Silver infused with Ancient Magic. "Something about me needing a custom job."
"Yes, that explains a lot more now... how is Aleister, still being a filthy degenerate?" asked the old Wandmaker, swiping away the Goblin Silver.
"Snuck into a school full of children," I explained. "Worst teacher I had... cool guy overall."
"Hah... that does sound like him. Well, anyhow, if you have so much affinity to lightning, Thunderbird Feather would have to do... I usually do not use them, but Scamander does owe me a favor."
"Is there a wood that can handle that much output?" I asked.
"You would have better luck finding a copper coil to wrap around it, I hear muggles have achieved something like that, but it was not something I bothered looking into," suggested Olivander... "Though laurel might fit. It is the tree of Jupiter, so thunder and lightning are natural to it. They are unable to perform dishonorable acts and tend to be intolerant of mediocracy."
"Sounds like me," I said with a grin.
"Right... you may drop by at the end of the summer to pick it up when I get it done, this one will take a while," said Ollivander, "and it will be seven galleons."
I nodded, leaving.
I spent the next week buried in books of Physics and Engineering that I had never had a chance to go through, along with the two dozen books on various branches of high-level science that I had ordered during Christmas break, which had taken a while to deliver.
Do not get me wrong, I loved Magic.
But a part of me needed the familiar stability and reliability of a set of well-defined rules and proper reproducibility that did not rely on wishing really hard.
And Doom was the Master of Science and Sorcery, not just Sorcery in the end.
Luckily, there was something that I had been planning to do in the non-magical world for a while now.
"Thanks for dropping by, von Doom," said Ted Tonks, shaking my hand.
"In the non-magical world, it is Domashev," I said, "officially."
Ted looked at me, confused, before shrugging.
"This is my dad," he said instead, "he is a lawyer."
"I work in Tena and Tonks," said Mr. Tonks. "Ted told me you were from his school?"
"I am," I said, taking out my notebook and turning to Ted, "I will put the best protection I can come up with around your house, but it will not be perfect," I said.
"And what will it cost us?" asked Mr. Tonks, seeing through my rather transparent motives.
"A bit of blood, some tears, your son's help. I would also like to hire you on retainer as my counsel," I responded.
"Will this not trigger the Trace?" asked Ted Tonks.
I smirked, knowing something was wrong with that comment about the legality of removing the Trace.
The problem was, removing the Trace was not really possible.
There was nothing in the Hogwarts Library about the Trace, but there was a pamphlet in the Room of Requirements about the original law that spoke of the components of the complex enchantment.
An Age Line to limit it to anyone less than seventeen years old, Homonculous Charm to determine the identity of the people present in the location that worked on anywhere that was not made Unplottable, Specialis Revelio to identify the spell being used, and you had the beginnings of what passed for the Trace. Once it was applied to the entire border of a country, you had what passed for a decent warning for Underage Sorcery.
It did not really have a component that was applied to a person, something that Dumbledore's warning made me look closer at. The cunning old man had tried to distract me into finding a solution that did not exist.
I could appreciate the game at least.
The thing about the Age Line was an application of the same protective enchantments that I was thinking of putting in place here.
It required the application of Runes.
Witch's Runes, to be precise.
It was specially designed to make Magic stop working within them, unless you were the one who applied them.
They were different than the regular runes that were known as the Eldar Futhark.
Witch's Runes were an application of Celestial Runes, Celestial Alphabet, or Angelic Script, first developed by Agrippa based on the structure of the constellations of Earth. The script itself was a low-level Sorcery, used to tap into the Natural Energy of Earth specifically. I was pretty sure it would not work as well off-world, but that was not something I would find out in the near future if I was lucky.
While the language was taught to NEWT-level Astronomy Students, its proper use was not something Hogwarts explored in full detail... except for two instances.
The Age Line, which worked with other spells to have an effect, and a version that could be built on top of the Bond of Blood Charm, applied using the blood of the sacrificed to block the magic of anyone who would mean the residents of a house, regardless of Magic. It was stronger and impossible to remove with force, but required the holder of the bond to live there for fourteen days to sustain itself.
I had found it after Astral Projecting into the Forbidden Section of the Library, looking into applications of Blood Magic.
The thing is, Witch's Runes worked on the principle of Internal Priority, meaning the inner border took precedence.
I slipped on the silver ring I had enchanted with Unplottability, so I could not be located when I wore it.
I had Ted apply the runes to the border of the entire block, since mine were applied around the Evans' home, and you could call only a single place home. I guided Ted on how to activate the runes he placed without triggering the Trace itself, using a second ring for him to cast the spells.
Then I bound it into the attorney contract, tapping into a dash of Equivalent Exchange to empower it.
Once the spells were done, I faced the elder Tonks, handing him the paperwork.
"There are two important issues that you need to handle, as my counsel," I said, handing him a paper. "A friend of mine does not have the best home life, and I want you to make sure she is able to have a place to stay over the summer... an issue I also share. I would like to get through the purchase of a townhouse in London, since I have the funding sources secured. Somewhere close to Baker Street, if possible."
"That can be arranged, what is the price range..." started Mister Tonks, opening the file... "That is a lot of money."
What could I say, the rainy day funds that the Soviet puppets had a lot of money, so I was not as broke as last summer.
"I will also be filing multiple patent applications and will require a representative to handle the minutia."
Mr. Tonks nodded, "I have done Patent work before, but not exclusively, but I can get you set up for the process and get you applying for a few patents."
I smiled, ready to get to work.
It was the Summer of 1972, and I had to drag this world kicking and screaming into the 21st century.
I was against using the work of others to claim my doctorate, but it did not mean I was not going to patent anything and everything I could think of, so they would all slowly start getting trickled in.
If I made some quick cash along the way, that was just good business.
---
# Aleister Crowley
Location: Boleskine House, Loch Ness, Scotland
The ring of the phone as Aleister crashed into his couch.
"Sammy, how are you, old boy?" asked Aleister, leaning against his comfy couch. "Finally grew those horns, so I will have something to hold onto while you chortle my balls?"
The voice on the other end was dry, clipped, and, as always, far too patient.
"Aleister, you're still alive. That's... surprising. I would have thought the Supreme Mugwump would turn your insides into outsides," said Samuel Mathers.
"Hah, like the little goat had the balls for it," responded Aleister, "Nah, he just fired me from the position before the Curse got to me. Good riddance, was a waste of time."
"Well, that is good to know. What about the contract I mentioned?" Sammy asked, making Aleister wince.
"Oh, the Royal brat... Westcott is taking care of that. Their family name would cause problems with the Ministry given how obsessive they are about heritage... not worth the effort with things as it is currently. The Knights of Walpurgis would cause them unnecessary grief, and somehow I would be blamed for it all again," said Aleister, "Not that I can keep an eye on them in Hogwarts now."
"And the Ancient Magic Repository?" asked Mathers, "Is it secure?"
"Got destroyed by this boy I met," lied Aleister, no need to mention that it was now bound to the Chi of the boy. Victor did not deserve the attention such a thing would bring, at least not until he grew strong enough to fend it off. Delaying that detail until the boy turned into an adult sounded reasonable for how his actions saved Aleister's ass.
"No one actually enjoys your degenerate fantasies, Crowley," said Sammy, getting a bark of laughter.
"Not like that, I have my standards and eleven year olds don't do it. His name is Victor von Doom," said Aleister, "Bright kid, a bit violent, already a Sorcerer at eleven."
"Von Doom, you say?" asked Mathers, "I think I met a Von Doom, about a decade ago. Hmm... he might be worth keeping an eye on then."
"Yeah, invited the lad to Golden Dawn, but he seemed to have an in with Kamar Taj, did not sound overly enthused, and I don't want to make the bald lady annoyed at me," said Aleister with a shrug before freezing.
"Crowley, you there?" asked the other end of the phone.
"Sorry, Sammy, gotta go, someone is knocking on the door," said Aleister, closing the connection, before reaching out and ripping off the little pamphlet with a magic circle that was hooked to wires that the phone was connected to, putting it away. "I swear if it is another group of exorcists, I will feed them to Nessie."
As he made it to the door, Aleister felt the protections around his home get torn down by someone with the subtlety of an Erumpet in mating season.
"Now, that is a face only a mother could love," said Aleister, looking into the face of the man who was at the gates.
The man lowered his bone white wand, smiling with pointed teeth. His face was pale, with black veins indicative of excessive and uncaring ritual use. The most distinguished features, however, were the red eyes with slit like pupils gleaming beneath the hood the man wore.
"Ah, Aleister Crowley, how nice of you to come out to greet us," said the new Dark Ponce.
"You are the Riddle brat Albus mentioned," responded Aleister, a wand appearing in his hand.
"Ah... it seems my reputation precedes me, that is good," said the boy who called himself Lord Voldemort. "Of course, your reputation is also known to Lord Voldemort, Aleister Crowley, the Muggle Lover."
"Is this a recruitment pitch?" asked Aleister, "cause I ain't fucking no snakes. I may be a degenerate, but I have standards."
Voldemort made a disgusted face... or was it that his face was disgusting? "While recruiting the Hero of Hogwarts would have been a boon, unfortunately, Lord Voldemort does not offer mercy to those who spill the pure blood of children. Why, I was elated to have the opportunity to see you brought down after Lestrange here came, begging me for a chance at vengeance for the butchery of his sons."
The robed figure next to the Dark Lord revealed his face.
"Yeah... that business... terrible, so terrible. Well, at least they will not grow up to be disappointments," responded Aleister.
"Avada Kedavra," spoke Lestrange for the first time, as Aleister was wrapped in white smoke as he rolled out of the way.
"You two gotta do better than that," said Aleister, stretching, ready to take out the dozen robed figures around him.
He was the Body Butcher of Hogsmeade Valley, Bane of the Goblins.
He was the fucking Hero of Hogwarts.
He was outnumbered, but not outmatched.
And if those fools wished to dance with him, he would teach them a thing or two.
"I suppose their blood is on your hands," he said.
Then the roar of something large interrupted him, as three giants, armored and wielding clubs, walked up behind Voldemort.
Alright, this may take a bit of effort.
---
# The Dark Lord
His yew wand slammed into his hand from where it had fallen, his long fingers wrapping around the hilt that was shaped like an infant's femur.
"Avada Kedavra," Lord Voldemort spoke calmly, holding the spell for just a moment longer.
Breaking through the Anti-Apparition Jinx to appear behind Crowley, he released the spell, using a modification to the Killing Curse that he had discovered on his own.
The body of Crowley slumped forward, dead.
Even then, he had taken his pound of flesh.
He hovered in place, a fire cauterizing the wound left behind from his missing right arm and left leg.
The pain was nothing and promptly ignored.
A wave of his wand in his left hand caused silvery liquid to bubble and shift, forming into the form of what had been his right hand.
It was an old spell, Irish in origin and lacking in incantations. It was a sorcery, evoking the name of Nuada Airgeadlámh to conjure a silver hand in the image of the original.
There were surprisingly many ways one could get their wand arm blown off, most of which happened when one experimented with magic, trying to cast the right spell with the wrong incantation.
The spell was ancient, nearly forgotten apart from an old priest that Lord Voldemort encountered on his travels, and ripped from his broken mind.
Unfortunately, the spell only worked for arms, or at least it was supposed to do... but he was Lord Voldemort, the Greatest Sorcerer in History. A quick mental calculation and a wave of his wand later, a silvery leg formed where one was missing.
It came with a cost, unfortunately, but it was a cost that Lord Voldemort would willingly pay.
He waved his wand at the corpse of Rudeus Lestrange, causing the cursed and barely alive man to wither away into nothing as he felt his life force he sacrificed for the spell, restore itself and even become more.
Such was the punishment for failure.
Had Lestrange thought that Lord Voldemort would be weakened or killed by such an old man? If that was his goal, it did not matter anymore.
He had wanted to avoid attacking Crowley of all people for a few more years, stripping away at his power and breaking apart Golden Dawn. Unlike Dumbledore's people, the organization that had Muggleborn flock to was loud and easy to track. It would have been easy to track them down and take them out one at a time.
There were many rituals that Voldemort could do with a sacrifice of a dozen willing magicals, after all, even if he had to first ensure that they were begging for death.
Yet, honor demanded that he, Lord Voldemort, come along. Rudeus, in his misplaced pride at the death of his sons, wanted vengeance.
It had been so easy to get others to join after that, unlike the few instances where Lord Voldemort had to go alone to do the job.
Clearly, good help was so hard to find these days.
Even then, all three of the Giants were now dead, their corpses in various stages of decay or rot from the dark spells being cast.
Of the dozen of his Knights of Walpurgis, four had perished... to a single Killing Curse in a method that Lord Voldemort had not seen before.
He had laughed at the way Crowley cast spells on Malfoy as he was writhing on the floor from the Cruciatus. It was wasteful, but when the Killing Curse jumped from Malfoy to two others, one of whom was a Giant, he knew that he had to take Crowley seriously.
That was not the type of magic that Lord Voldemort would allow others to hold.
Even then, it had cost Voldemort an arm.
It was a nice trick, Voldemort had to admit. It was one he would learn from. A casual wave of his wand caused fires to erupt from the partially demolished manor.
Then, with another wave of his wand formed a Ritual Circle around the body of Alestair Crowley, as Voldemort entered it.
By the time he had left, he drank the Ancient Magic still lingering on the fool's corpse, and now had a new flesh arm and a leg, leaving behind a body missing both arms and one of the legs in turn.
Another wave had the corpse suspended on a cross, before transfiguring his tongue into the sky