Chapter 876 - 21

# Victor

Location: Oxford, UK

I looked at the readings from the mass spectrometer, glaring at the results.

"It is just Platinum," I said. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I ran it three times on the samples you gave me," said the man next to me. "Look, if my advisor finds out that I am using the mass spectrometer for personal curiosity, I will be in trouble, so I cannot rerun this experiment without a solid reason... especially not for something as banal as Platinum... even if it is exposed to some exotic radiation."

I sighed.

Goblin Silver was simply Platinum of all things.

My knowledge of Alchemy was too superficial at best, so I did not know much, but this was really a letdown.

Where was the mithril I was promised... source of a unique metal?

I had hoped for Vibranium at least, so I did not have to rob Klaue and get away with robbing the Goblins instead.

Getting in trouble with goblins was better than getting in trouble with Wakanda after all... if only marginally.

"Fine," I said, grabbing the sample and letting the Imperius fade before muttering, "Obliviate" in the Applied Physics graduate student.

Platinum... really?

I walked out, my mood sour, when I noted a distinctive individual watching me behind a newspaper.

I ducked behind an alley, dropped to Mirror Dimension, and rose out behind the man.

"You know, the point of news is that it changes every day, right?" I asked. Luger pointed at the man. "You are not likely to find anything new from a week ago."

"This is awkward," said the man, raising his hands. The light caught the gleam of the Sling Ring he was wearing, "I am Sol Rama, Master of the London Sanctum."

I hummed. "I am still processing the fact that you lot can wear anything but monk robes," I responded.

"We are not idiots..." said Master Rama... "Well, we don't really let idiots in. I would ignore the Wizarding World in general."

"I am sure," I said, "You know, my mother warned about getting into strange portals with strangers," I responded, "but then again, she also taught me how to fleece a demon's power, so what's up?"

"Ancient One requested your aid in a task..." said Master Rama, while rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"By all means, this is my day off," I responded, following the older Sorcerer through the portal.

---

"Welcome, Mister von Doom, to Boleskine House, Loch Ness," said Sol Rama, his clothing shifting to sorcerer robes, with a cloak over it that had a hood. He held out a mask. "This is technically a Department of Mysteries investigation; as such, I am going to ask you to cover your face," he said, passing a conjured mask.

I tapped my hands in a motion, letting my green cloak appear along with the silvery fragments of the Goblin Silver that neatly arranged themselves into the form of a mask that fits Doom better than the wooden thing I was being given.

"Right... this way," said Sol Rama.

I observed a group of people holding up what appeared to be a large portrait against a serpent in the lake.

"That is Nessie," said Rama without a beat, "The only eyewitness. She is a Kelpie but likes the form of a Sea Serpent. We have an expert interrogating him in Parseltongue."

"The expert is a portrait," I asked, shocked at the intelligence.

"Ominis Gaunt, a friend of the victim," said Rama, "A man that you have already met... Aleister Crowley."

"I did not do it, and there is no court of law where you can prove otherwise," I said, "I have been writing patents under the watch of my attorneys for the entire summer."

"We are aware," said Rama simply. "Due to the sensitive nature of the events, we have taken over the investigation from the Aurors. Those meatheads would mess up the most basic of investigations after all."

"That sounds on par with the Aurors," I said, with a nod.

I noted the giant corpses, one of them somehow stirring as something jumped out of it.

It was large, it was green, and it was leafy.

I flared my Chi and caught the Chinese Chumping Cabbage, and squeezed the base of its roots until the violent vegetable stopped struggling.

"Never been much of a Herbology guy," said Rama, with a sigh.

"I read the book if only so I don't die. I am keeping this, by the way," I said, simply.

"It is evidence," responded someone.

"Good, that is my price for this," I said instead, putting away the now passed-out cabbage into my bag of holding.

The cabbage had obviously killed the giant and proceeded to do a Sigurd Ritual on it. As the person to kill the cabbage, I could eat it and transfer the giant-magic to myself by a second Sigurd Ritual.

I was a growing boy, and I could go for a couple of inches after all.

We stopped before a large cross with blood still on it.

"Where is the body?" I asked.

"That is the question, isn't it?" said Rama. "This is not the first instance of the Knights of Walpurgis acting up, though their limited operation makes them a local problem. The body should be on the cross, with its tongue transfigured into a serpent."

"Riddle?" I asked, looking at the cleared sky.

"His calling card dissipated after the Aurors arrived," said Rama.

"And those idiots proceeded to cast spells with no restraint and messed up the entire chain of evidence," someone else complained.

"This is Python, Python, the one in green is the Doctor," said

"I am not a Doctor," I corrected, not yet at least.

"It is a codename," responded Sol Rama.

"It is inaccurate and offensive to those who spent backbreaking years of work earning their Doctorate," I shot back, "Call me the Green Knight if you must."

"Right... whatever he says," responded Python. "Our divinations are messed from the Cursed Fire... not even sure what sort that one is."

"Appare Vestigium," I cast the tracking charm, releasing a wave of golden dust from my wand.

"Yeah... tried that trick, didn't work," said Python with boredom.

I sighed, dismissing the spell and deciding to go the next step.

I pulled on Time.

The green energy within the subatomic dimension coalesced, mixing with my Chi and a dash of the Ancient Magic that now circulated and replenished itself in my body.

Then I cast again, "Appare Vestigium."

Instead of golden dust, this time, a green dust formed.

I twisted my wand, like controlling a VCR.

Events played backward, Aurors mucking about, then a buzz of something that blocked the view.

"Someone strong and skilled ran interference on all retrocognition methods," muttered Python.

I pulled back through until the interference disappeared, and there he was.

Aleister Crowley.

He was missing both arms... though only one was fresh, as he had lost the other to Grindelwald. He was also missing a leg, but no blood pool.

"He was murdered," I said, "and then crucified."

"Why take the arm and the leg though, that is unusual," said Rama, inspecting the image.

I rewound further, seeing Voldemort apparate behind and take out Crowley.

"Crowley seems to have taken a pound of his flesh," said Python. "Eidolon is the expert in fleshcraft, but I am certain the spell Riddle used to restore his missing limbs is part of that ritual he did."

"Right," I said, not really being on board with the idea. I recognized the Magic Circle used. "That thing siphons a form of Eldritch Energy," I corrected, "It is called Ancient Magic, and Crowley had mentioned that he had some papers on the subject."

"I am familiar with the Sorcery," said Sol Rama, "We will have to make further investigations into it, but we can assume that Voldemort has become a potential threat to Sorcerers in general."

"So he is really dead," muttered the portrait, as the other two DoM members walked by.

"Are we sure this is not some sort of a fake body?" asked Python.

"Possible," said Sol, "the fact that it disappeared is suspicious. I will contact other members of the Golden Dawn, let them know. If they are smart, they will disappear into the wind until this conflict settles down. While I do not enjoy tolerating Free Sorcerers, their line is more acceptable than the other two options. Walpurgis just took out their heaviest hitter, so they will have to be more subtle. As for Riddle..." he said, looking at me.

"I am working on it," I responded, "though... I can be more effective if I could borrow the translator you guys have."

"We will see," said Sol Rama, opening a portal, "Knight, with me. Rest of you, clean up the place, we were never here."

The mask and the cloak vanished.

I dismissed my armor and cloak as well.

"That was very Men in Black," I said with a shrug.

"DoM likes to preserve a bit of chain of authority, I found," said Sol Rama, "Tea?"

"With a spoon of Honey, please," I responded, sitting down.

"Now," said Sol Rama, passing the tea and placing something in front of us.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Part of the reason you were involved in the Investigation," said Master Rama, "Crowley was an influential Sorcerer, with connections with many books on Sorcery that officially burned with him. His Will was changed a few hours before his death... a single line was added."

"To Victor von Doom, I leave a mirror, so he can watch his ugly mug get older. Let's see who looks prettier at age ninety," I read, snorting. "That sounds like the Crowley I met."

He passed me the mirror.

I was not stupid enough to channel ancient magic into it.

I raised an eyebrow at the expectant look on Rama's face.

The older Sorcerer sighed. "The Ancient One believes that you are responsible enough to hold such knowledge... I disagree. A child should not get involved with this, however skilled or traumatized."

"I like you, Sol," I said, simply, taking the mirror that contained the library on Sorcery that Crowley had collected. "Don't lose your head," I said with a smile with a wink.

"Fucking Chronomancers," I heard him mutter, as I leaned back, creating a portal behind me so I could get out of the Sanctum as fast as possible.

---

"Hundred and four applications," said Mr. Tonks, giving a sigh. "You, boy, are a machine."

"Not bad for a summer's work," I said with a grin, signing all of them in order. Tonks would handle the rest of the paperwork, but I had the applications and prototypes, most of which were created using a bit of Transfiguration and the Duplication charm on a bunch of junk.

Granted, with the help of some Magic, an Eidetic Memory, and churning out an application a day had not been hard.

I may have gotten a bit out of hand.

Most of the applications were in the field of Computer Science, trying to push it all into the more modern interpretation as AI consisted of a single-layer neural network, and chip technology was barely getting off.

So I poured everything I remembered from the introductory courses. CPU Architectures, Communication Protocols, Security and Encryption methodologies, and some of the software tricks that I remember replicating. I had essentially written a bunch of Research Papers, sending them under the pseudonym of Vincent Vaughn, to the right conferences.

Most of the Computer Engineering was still an issue, but Magic and consistent patterns did not get along unless you had a mind like mine, and even then, mathematically defined physical crystalline structures were a form of Transmutation and needed some understanding of Alchemy, which I really needed to get into soon.

The rest were more physical and stuff that could be patented with a prototype.

Touch Sensors that would not be around for the next forty years, 3D printers, because why the fuck not. A quadruped that actually walked because I was bored.

If I were going to be Doctor Doom, I was going to get enough patents to privately fund my micronation, and I was not going to hold back.

---

The Daily Prophet

September 1, 1972

Special Morning Edition

Pureblood Patritians Vanish Without a Trace

Abraxas Malfoy and Rudeus Lestrange Declared Missing After an announcement by Wiltshire Estate

By: Baranabas Cuffe, Special Correspondent

In a startling development sure to shake the foundations of Britain's oldest wizarding families, both Abraxas Malfoy, patriarch of the powerful Malfoy lineage, and Rudeus Lestrange, heir presumptive of the Lestrange family, have been officially declared missing by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

The two influential figures were last seen three nights ago at Malfoy Manor, following a private meeting attended only by select members of what insiders describe as the "Inner Circle" of the political group of Walpurgis Night.

The DMLE initially refused to comment, but mounting public concern and pressure from the Wizengamot have now forced a formal statement.

"At this time, we are treating this as a disappearance, not a confirmed crime," said Chief Auror Alastor Moody, speaking to the press outside the Ministry. "All investigative avenues are being pursued. We urge the public to refrain from speculation."

Despite official statements, speculation is rampant.

Abraxas Malfoy is survived by his sixteen-year-old son and the sole inheritor of the Malfoy fortune, Lucius Malfoy. Lucius, a Prefect of House Slytherin with impressive scholastic achievements, refused to comment.

The death of Rudeus Lestrange following the tragic murder of his two sons, Rodolphus, 17, and Rabasdan, 15, on May this year by the notorious Dark Wizard Augustus Rookwood, leaves the question of who is there to take the reins of House Lestrange. The famed Wizard family has endured a tragic history, with only one potential line surviving through a Squib who had moved to the Americas and changed their name.

A Turning Tide?

Political analysts warn that the disappearance of Abraxas and Rudeus may signal more than just internal family matters, but a seismic shift in the political power structures of magical Britain.

The coincidence of the mysterious disappearance of one Aleister Crowley of the Order of the Golden Dawn around the same time and strange activity reported across Loch Ness, many fear that there is a shadow war being engaged by the two political sides. Crowley, known for having played a key role in the Goblin Rebellion of 1891, is a controversial figure, known to have a violent past and particular controversial lifestyle choices.

For now, the Ministry maintains that "there is no cause for panic."

But few are comforted.

"First Crowley, now Abraxas?" muttered one aging member of the Wizengamot, Tiberius Ogden. "We are watching an old order crumble, and something new rise in its place. I would stock up on a few stiff drinks."

Tips related to the investigation can be delivered anonymously via Owl Post to the Auror Office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

---

I lowered the prophet, ignoring most of the BS that was in the article. The fact that it ignored the death of Aleister made me annoyed, and the implications that he had anything to do with the death of who I knew to be Death Eaters was... well, while likely accurate, it was not fair.

"I cannot believe Professor Thimblewood is dead," said Meggan, though a summer where she was not forced to go to her parents seemed to have done a lot for the girl.

"His name is Crowley, and he was horrible," said Severus simply.

"It doesn't matter, Sev, he was still a Professor," Lily responded, "Have you guys seen Malfoy? It must be hard for him."

I leaned back, opening the book I got, one of the hundreds that Crowley had left behind, hidden in the mirror. 'Seven Heavenly Spheres of Solar Sanctity' by Cinnibus was rather a unique read. It was brilliant how the guy enforced quantum tunnelling to trigger nuclear fusion and proceeded to develop a sorcery around it.

As the Hogwarts train chugged along, summer was over, and I was ready to get on with my second year.

My plan... deal with that snake in the basement.

---

AN: Right, figured, I would get the next chapter out while the creative juices were running and I did not get distracted.

For those who assumed that I am in some shape or form making Voldemort more powerful, do not. As explained during the parts of the story, Hogwarts is slowly giving Ancient Magic to it's students, since it is the new norm of Conjuration. Moreover, Voldemort already had some feats that are considerably Ancient Magic. The silver arm, the silver shield that protected him from Dumbledore's spell, the silver masks.

Idea is, in the OG timeline, Crowley would have been killed later and his power absorbed by Voldemort, but Doom's presence caused the plan for the Ancient Magic Repository to be rushed because Rookwood was a brat with delusions, and Voldemort provided the means. There is a specific something that makes the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort more, and it goes beyond their intelligence, as they are in some shape or form tapping into the esoteric. Said esoteric takes the form of Sorcery in this fic.

The only difference between the Voldemort in the books and this version is, this is Voldemort during the first war, and he is saner because of it.

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 8, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:bddvil, captainloser, DarkLight140 and 974 othersGuldsdoneAug 8, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 019: Chamber of Doom View contentGuldsdoneWizarding WorksAug 14, 2025Add bookmark#2,015"What is with the mud-" was all that little Regulus Black got to say before he was tackled by a very panicked-looking Bellatrix Black.

"Did someone say something?" I asked.

"Nothing," responded Bella, clamping her hand over the eleven-year-old brat's mouth.

"That is what I thought," I said, putting my new Laurel and Thunderbird Feather wand back in my sleeve.

I looked around... Malfoy seemed to be brooding, and it would be distasteful to beat him in chess after knowing that Crowley had done in his old man.

"Black," I said, "do you play chess?"

Regulus was taken aback, pointing at himself.

"I know Bella does not play well," I said, "the other two ran off with their friends, so yes, you."

"Why not play with your... friends, von Doom?" asked Regulus.

Said friends looked away, not wanting to get beaten once more.

"I suppose, not like you have a chance," said Regulus.

After the ten-zero, he was just glaring at the pieces like they were the reason he lost.

It was good to be back.

---

While Ominis was teaching me the finer points of Parseltongue, I was working on a way to take out the Basilisk.

I would get one shot, which I would have to aim while indirectly looking at the snake. Hopefully, the Anti-Transmogrification Ritual would counter the petrification, if not the outright death stare, so a makeshift periscope was good enough defense.

There were a few options for offense, however.

Smarter play was the Conjectivitus Curse, invented specifically to deal with Basilisks of all things by some Indian fellow during a civil war with a Dark Lord. Granted, the next page explained how it had proven to be more effective on the roosters to make sure they did not die, but it was an option. In the end, I wanted the eyes intact, since they were magical in nature and rare beyond anything else.

Speaking of roosters, the cry of a rooster was probably the fastest way to kill the thing, but that, of course, missed the point that a rooster's cry would strip the beast of any magic.

The Killing Curse was a possibility, though aiming was the main challenge, which I had already solved, but again, it would strip the beast of any magic.

What I needed was a way to set it up for the Sigurd Ritual, so I could potentially absorb the magic of a Basilisk after figuring out what that magic was.

The Restricted Section did not really have a lot of details on the Basilisks, and most knowledge was kept in private libraries, never seeing the light of day.

That meant I had to figure out a means to kill it without damaging the magic of the creature, experiment with the body parts, and figure out the magic that the Basilisk had.

The first step was easy. I needed a weapon made from Goblin Silver.

The axe that I had used was good, but it was an axe, and this was a sixty-foot-long murder snake.

I needed something more stabby that did not damage the snake too much.

Fortunately, I now knew what Goblin Silver was, and while the process of making it from scratch was a bust and the pieces of the Repository were magically inert, there were other sources that I could use.

Grabbing a candelabra from the Room of Requirements, I got to work figuring out how to reforge the metal.

A bit of work, and a part of my Lab under Hogsmeade had a forge in one corner.

As the hammer infused with Chi slammed into the Goblin Silver, a shock threw me off the floor.

Alright, maybe slightly harder than expected.

Maybe I should get a better hammer.

Luckily, I knew where one was located.

---

Location: Museum of Great Britain

I observed my target sitting beneath a display case, checking the location and exact shape of the object that I was targeting.

Once I had eyes on the Vibranium Ax, I decided to leave.

That same night, after another round of reconnaissance from the mirror dimension, a small portal opened in one of the blind spots for the CCTV, and a small device fell from the hole.

As the portal closed, the device emitted a local burst of electromagnetic pulse before falling right through a second portal that appeared beneath it.

With the CCTV out through a Banishing Bomb of Balthakk that doubled as an EMP, I opened another portal within the display case, quickly replacing the original Vibranium Axe with a perfect copy, transfigured from a steel anvil and a few branches.

Once I studied the metal and figured out how to replicate it through Alchemy, I would be putting this particular one back in its place.

While I would be fine with derailing a plot that would only happen in forty-odd years, I mostly want to avoid getting the attention of Wakanda too early. And by early, I meant before I was able to unleash an army of Doombots to wreck their shit.

While I did not particularly care about the Enthnonationalistic Isolationism that Wakanda had going on, I found their entitled society that would not have come to be if they did not sit on that mount of Vibranium, developing technologies that could have helped humanity progress if they were not so self-centered bigots. It reminded me of the worst aspects of Richards, the refusal to change something for the better because the status quo was convenient.

Which was why I was going to eventually return the ax to ensure that events in Black Panther played out as they should, even if I was going to make a few other moves to make Wakanda, in general, rather useless by closing the technology gap.

Because, while Earth did not have other unclaimed or safe sources of Vibranium, space was another matter entirely, and if not, Alchemy was made to produce metals of different types.

As I brought the flat side of the Vibranium Axe onto the Goblin Silver, a tone rang out, and nothing happened.

The next strike, I decided to infuse Chi into the Vibranium. The strike led to an explosion, this time tinted in purple rang out, again throwing me off my feet.

My tongue was numb, but I was pretty sure that the energy signature from that strike was somewhere in the ballpark of the Power Dimension.

This required further experimentation.

As for the Goblin Silver reforging task... hard way it is.

---

The Hard Way, as it were, was the use of a particular branch of Alchemy. Specifically, it was through the use of Geometric Transmutation.

Goblin Silver could not be reforged, melted down, or transfigured. It was why the Wizarding Economy relied on Goblin metals to run, since faking them with spells was virtually impossible, creating a stable form of currency... well, stable for being reliant on a race that rebelled every other decade.

The way around the limitations came in the form of a particular branch of Alchemy. As alchemy reformed matter on a more essence level, even the enchantments of Goblins could not prevent it.

The problem with Geometric Transmutation that it was considered to be extremely hard.

It was effectively the use of a mathematical formula to reshape matter in the form of objects. It was ironically the basis of what the Sorcerers would use to shape Eldritch Energy into the form of weapons or shields. Mostly, it was limited to circular shields, but there were a few exceptions, like the Scimatar that Strange conjured from Eldritch Energy against Thanos on Titan.

The mechanics of the Geometric Transmutation were plug and play, meaning that it could be used to change matter into a form, or Eldritch Energy, though it did get harder with more complex shapes.

The books that Crowley had on the particular branch of Alchemy were limited, but there were a few references in Hogwarts as well, mostly limited to the use in Enchanting, since the transmutation preserved original spells layered on the object, even solidifying them as part of the object due to the way matter was reforged.

The practice bits were simple, starting from simple shapes like spheres and cubes and moving on from there.

The next step was repeating patterns, something that was used to transmute crystals.

I made a note of that, specifically as I needed a means to manufacture nanoscale microchips. With a bit of effort, I could use micro-telekinesis to build a small part of it, before using it as the basis to generate repeating logic gates until I had something with sufficient computational power.

Practice meant that I now had a new Goblin Silver Shield Bracelet, one that could cast my version of Rho Aias, "The Seven-Petal Rose of Raggadorr" with more stability, requiring only that I feed it Chi to recharge.

Using some of the fragments of the Repository meant that the spell was also additionally infused with the Ancient Magic. Even if the metal was depleted of its energy, I was able to use the resonance it acquired from centuries to pull more, finding and further refining my access to the unique Dimensional Energy that made the shield charm become almost solid.

Once the small flat disks were made, I got to more complex shapes, starting with rings.

The shield rings that Lily, Meggan, and Severus had were gone, broken from the spellfire that protected them. They were also of lesser quality, and modifying the equation of the torus to be more ring-like was relatively easy.

Again, the new rings were stronger than the originals, ensuring that those I deemed under my protection were in fact protected.

Once the defensive methods were complete, I needed a weapon.

I was particularly focusing on a specific set of equations, working out to develop a long cylindrical shape that ended on points, not unlike a javelin.

And if the javelin through the nose did not work against the Basilisk, it would get close enough to the beast's brain that the Goblin Silver would make for a good enough lightning rod.

---

"Ah, I remember reading Hermann Gunkel's work," I heard, while sitting by one of the couches in the Library. "I found his writing to be overly metaphorical, even if his observation about the mythic parallels is without peer."

"Headmaster," I greeted the man, closing the book titled 'Chaoskampf,' which was essentially a detailed analysis of the conflict between dragons and thunder gods.

I was threading a thread that Ollivander had suggested, as I was mostly reading it for the advantage it would bring me against the Basilisk, but there were some interesting bits in this version, essentially listing how magical resistance does not extend to lightning.

Sort of explained why the Bolts were made of lightning.

"Victor," said the Headmaster... "Madame Pince mentioned your interest in Alchemy, so I wanted to see how your studies were going," said the old man, saying it like he was not snooping. "You see, I am something of an alchemist myself."

"I am sure you are, sir," I said with a dry tone. "In fact, I had a few questions that you might be able to answer," I said, wanting to see if we could do some equivalent exchange.

"Is that so?" said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling. "Before that, however, I have to ask how you are doing, after the disappearance of Aleister, given what happened at the end of last term. For all our disagreements, he was a friend and mentor to me."

"I thought you did not get along," I countered.

"Oh, there is bad blood between us, but I have always respected his character, even if I disagreed with his choices or how we went about doing things," responded Dumbledore.

"You mean how he dragged us to a place where a couple of first years almost died?" I asked, "Or the fact that there were students willing to do such a thing under your watch?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Believe me, Victor, I do share part of the blame. That does not, however, mean that violence will be tolerated at Hogwarts, no matter what belief they have," he said, giving me a pointed look. "I think I can entrust the safety of your friends to you; you have proven to be resourceful enough. However, should you need anything, know that help is always provided in Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

I nodded, not saying a thing.

"Now, I shall see myself out," he said, holding up a couple of magazines, "These knitting patterns will not learn themselves. As for your questions on alchemy, feel free to write to me, and should you wish to do more experiments, I shall arrange for supervision. We do not want a repeat of the classroom on the second floor of the charms corridor like last year, hmm?" he asked, giving me a smile before leaving.

Well... that was something, I suppose.

---

It was once more Halloween, time passing by rather fast between classes and my studies in Alchemy.

I thought it would be a nice little fuck-you to Riddle if I took out his prized beast this specific day... and because the feast provided a guarantee that there would not be anyone around when I descended the Chamber of Secrets. I was not an idiot; planning against contingencies of a runaway Basilisk was basic thinking.

"~Open~" I hiss out, taking care to repeat it in the way that Ominis' portrait taught me.

The guy was far too happy in providing me access to the Basilisk and the Basilisk Venom to fuck with his great-grandnephew after learning how he killed Aleister.

With a periscope over my eyes and instructions to Alfie to take my body back to the surface should I petrify, I held out the Goblin Silver lance, ready to send it the moment the Basilisk exited the mouth of the statue.

"~Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of Houses Four~" I hissed out, before giving a cough.

I heard the sound of scales scraping against stone, while I held out my wand to the lance and used a specific spell for this purpose.

"Wadawassi" I cast, using the prank spell designed to throw things up the nose of a target.

Because, despite access to the entire Hogwarts Library, the spell that Lupin would have used against Peeves to banish chewing gum up the nose of the poltergeist achieved the best results for my goal, in that it kept the eyes intact.

The Goblin Silver lance flew, slamming through the target even as I saw the reflection of the yellow eyes.

I felt the magic try to push against me... feeling raw, natural energy slam into my body at a rate faster than I could mix with my internal Chakra.

Despite the failure, my body leeched the natural energy, undoing the petrification through the Anti-Transmogrification Ritual.

Interesting, the mirror must have inverted the natural magic of the eyes, causing natural energy to flood into the body of the target instead of sapping it of the life force.

The next problem, as it were, was the fact that while a lance through the nose should, in theory, allow direct lobotomization of a giant snake from the few vivisections I conducted for this particular event, it had not been enough.

Regardless, there was still a conductive metal rod stuck to the Basilisk, with the other end conveniently already inside its brain.

I held out my wand, the tip crackling with lightning.

If I had a penny for every time I had to use metal spikes to act as lightning rods to kill a beast... I would have two pennies. It wasn't much, but it was odd that it happened twice.

Well, if it ain't broke...

CRACK!

The Blast of Balthakk, empowered by Ancient Magic, struck, my new wand accommodating the power.

The Basilisk's Brain, on the other hand, seemed to not be so capable.

That was disappointing.

"Alfie," I called.

POP!

"Oh, Master Doomy is not a garden decoration, Alfie is very happy, sir," said my House Elf, wearing a blindfold.

He clicked his fingers, a pulse of magic mapping everything, "Though Alfie is not such a talented butcher as to think he can take care of that on my own. I have butchered chicken blindfolded, sir, but never snakes... and nothing this big."

The Elf was right... This thing was closer to the movie version in size than the book version. Good thing I was prepared for both options.

"That is fine," I said, pulling out a pair of Goblin Silver Knives that I transmuted. "This particular one is poisonous and venomous at the same time, but bring the jars... I will handle it. We should have another hour before the feast ends."

"Oh, Alfie will bring Master Doomie some food then, you must not miss dinner, sir," responded Alfie.

"Maybe when I take a break," I said, getting to work.

---

The Tupperware that I was using to store the snake parts was a Transmuted Diamond.

It was the most stable material to actually store potion's ingredients, even better than Crystals.

Not only was Diamond corrosion resistant to all acids, but it was also a repeating pattern that enforced a form of order into the structure, negating the magic of the ingredients.

In Ancient Greek, diamonds were called Adamant, being one of the two materials, along with gold, to be considered 'immortal' due to their unique resistance to outside elements like acids or corrosion, or rust.

There were a few other materials on the same level. Platinum was one of those that was rare and not used outside of Goblins, as it turned out.

It meant that I could store things in Diamond and even use the initial graphene that I transmuted into a new form as an anchor for the stasis charms that I learned from the Cursed Vaults.

The skin, I had to use magic to remove. While I had been less practiced with the dragon, further research and my own experiments on the parts of the dragon indicated that the Right of Conquest was a legit concept and the spells I used could in fact be used to butcher the corpses for parts without damaging properties... or at least it did not mess with the properties when I used it.

What do you mean? I had the perfect means to ensure no one but I could use this super-rare material.

A rather dark Skinning Curse peeled back the entire snake skin with ease. I had plans for it, given that it was the perfect shade of green, though it would have to wait for my growth spurt to finalize.

The organs were marked and placed in jars, the blood and the heart in particular being important.

While I did not have the means to counter the toxic nature of the heart and blood at the moment, they could remain in stasis until I figured it out.

The brain was a lost cause, the eyestalks were intact and kept with the eyes in a preservation liquid made from the Oculus Potion, in large jars.

The venom sack was also intact, something that I had counted on when aiming for the nasal strike. It meant I had all the Basilisk Venom, as I made sure that the lance I used took a dip, just in case I would need a permanent source of destroying artifacts.

Unfortunately, the process was rather bloody, and my shoes were a lost cause. Alas, now I had to get new boots from some of that Basilisk Skin.

I used the chance to scrape the blood around the entire chamber, using the blood of the beast I killed to claim the location for myself.

I would keep the skeleton intact, even as the teeth were each removed and stored due to the venom in them.

That left only the flesh to deal with, though with the important bits removed, what was left was already starting to rot by the end of the first hour.

Then again, that is Dark Magic for you, not something that remains stable for long.

---

"What have you done?" someone spoke as I was in the middle of stuffing my face with a sandwich that Alfie brought from the kitchens.

"Who are you?" the person asked again, as I turned and swallowed what I was chewing.

There stood a man in a hood, before the hood fell off to reveal the blonde hair of one Lucius Malfoy.

And in his hands was a particular black book... as if the red eyes were not indicative of the possession.

"Oh," I said, gaining a rather disturbing grin, "Is it my birthday?"

Luciusmort turned around and booked it.

Or rather, he tried to.

Alfie snapped his fingers, and the door shut before him.

My domain meant that my House Elf had special privileges bitch.

Lucius turned to face me, giving me a frustrated smile.

"Victor Doom, I presume," he said.

"It is von Doom, actually," I said, "And I suppose you are Tom Riddle."

"Oh... so you figured out that it was me who opened the secret. I heard you were chummy with half-breeds, Von, and I was looking forward to meeting with you. I suppose you struck down the Mighty Beast of Salazar, thinking it would protect your mudblood friends," Riddle said.

I rolled with it.

"So, is this the part where you threaten me?" I asked, "Because if you were chatting with Lucy, you would know that I am not someone to mess with, and as for threatening those under my aegis... we will see how far you can fly from death."

Luciusmort's eyes widened, his hand clutching the Diary tighter.

"What, no response?" I asked, a wand in hand, while the other one still held the plate of food.

"I was just surprised that you know the name I chose, and seem unimpressed, how about these words then?" said Tom Riddle, possessing Lucius Malfoy, "Avada Kedavra."

As I pulled Time into myself, the moment stretched out as the green light slowly approached,

Right... Killing Curse... the Curse that Killed... the Avada that would leave behind my Kedavra...

I mean, I could dodge... but that is just inefficient and undignified.

I flipped the plate in my hand, throwing it between me and the spell.

Fun fact, Hogwarts cutlery is gold.

I suppose Helga did not want food fights, or maybe something handy in case Killing Curses started flying around.

For a moment, both of us stood watching as the plate ate the Killing Curse and nothing happened, before falling to the ground.

As if on queue, both of us cast spells the moment the plate clanged against the floor.

I threw the trusty Lightning Bolt.

Luciusmort went with the Cruciatus.

I flared my Chi, mixing it with my willpower to form the white energy field that allowed me to withstand the psychological torture of thousands of teenagers. It was working to counter the Torture Curse as I brute forced a physical defense through my mental one.

Luciusmort jumped out of the way of my Lightning Bolt.

So undignified.

I sent a wordless Disarming charm, summoning the wand to my hand.

I followed it along with an incarcerous that bound the man, causing him to drop Riddle's Diary.

"Tom... can I call you Tom? I will call you Tom," I said, looking at him. "Given your lack of skill, I suppose this is the sixteen-year-old version of you, huh?"

"How do you know who I am, Von?" asked Tom.

I paused.

"My name is Victor von Doom, you idiot," I responded.

"That is clearly a made-up name," said Luciusmort.

"Stan given, I am afraid, though I have heard an argument that all names are made up," I said with a shrug, "Then again, not all of us need to make anagrams of our name to sound important."

I got a snarl in turn.

"Right… let's see," I muttered, lifting Tom Riddle's Diary. How anyone could deny that this thing was Dark Magic was beyond me.

While Voldemort's connection to Horcruxes let him possess Nagini and peer into Harry's mind in the books, physical Horcruxes worked differently. Hogwarts generally and the Chamber of Secrets particularly disrupted any remote divination. So, I was probably safe. Probably.

Maybe I'd drop by Baker Street later to double-check the Eye of Agamotto.

For now, the immediate problem: Luciusmort.

"I'm guessing you wanted to ensure the Malfoy fortune stayed intact," I said, confident that Riddle couldn't see through Lucius' eyes. That sounded like something Riddle would do: practical, uncaring, manipulative.

Then again, Dumbledore might have had some issues with the last year, and a single push could get him out of Hogwarts... not to mention the Muggleborn in Slytherin.

Seems like Riddle was going to find out what happens when he fucked around by threatening my friends.

Luciusmort said nothing. Fine.

"Alfie, vial from potion storage marked with a skull, labeled Draught of Living Death." My House Elf snapped his fingers and handed it over. I shoved the vial into Lucius' mouth.

After securing him, I held up the Diary.

Now, what to do with this thing...

The mental influence it was trying to do was rather subtle and rather pathetic, while the way it was trying to absorb my Chi and convert it into its own brand of energy was interesting.

Meh, it did not need all its magic to anchor a soul.

And I could do with more than two sentences in Parseltongue.

A few flicks of my wand carved lines on the ground, forming into a now familiar array.

"This is for Crowley, you parasite," I said, thumbs touching ring fingers, as I cycled my own Chi through the array, drinking in the magic that Tom Riddle had imbued into the container of a piece of his soul.

AN: Victor makes plans to descend to the Chamber... and so does someone else. Voldemort is very callous with his Horcruxes to be honest.

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:DtPrince, bddvil, captainloser and 1,103 othersGuldsdoneAug 14, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 020: Mind the Doom View contentGuldsdoneWizarding WorksSep 22, 2025Add bookmark#2,225My opponent fell on her knees, breathing.

"Are we done?" I asked, finding it disappointing.

"Gramps said he had a friend who had a saying," said Lily instead, getting up to her feet. "I can do this all day."

"Didn't know you were American," I teased in turn.

"Take that back," she said simply, before throwing out spell after spell.

For a normal twelve-year-old, that was a lot more powerful than it should be. I have been working on getting the three of my companions up to par in Sage Arts.

The process was something the wands naturally did, each spell taking and mixing a bit of the Natural Energy both to the spell and the caster. It would have allowed them to grow stronger over time, with practice, not to the point of becoming a Sage or learning to actively pull on the Natural Energy, but stronger than natural talent would have led to.

Combined with all three becoming the focal point in a ritual using Ancient Magic, each of them hit on par with a fifth year, even after only a single year of Magical Education.

Skill-wise, they still had a lot to learn, though.

It took a few more minutes before Lily was out, and I was facing Severus.

Severus did not speak when casting a spell, though I did not bother blocking as I felt it yank me off my feet. A flex of my will had me dodge to the side of the follow-up as Severus yelled out "Stupefy," even as I was still suspended in the air.

"EXPELliarmus" I intoned, sending Severus off his feet before I completed my flip and landed on my feet.

"Why do you have your stupid flight spell active?" asked Severus with a groan. He was quick to figure out how I countered his Levicorpus.

"Because it is a perfect way to ensure I have full control over my movements," I said simply.

I was not willing to give up on a means to simply dodge out of the way of a spell after all. The mental strain to keep the spell up was rather insignificant, and I could practice my multitasking.

That left the last member of the trio.

Meggan gave me a smile before she started by transfiguring a desk into a lion.

I sighed. I should have expected that after Meggan had herself covered by half a dozen kittens when she figured out how to invert the animal to water goblet spell in class, but still...

I jabbed the lion in the throat with a Chi-covered strike, shielding to block the disarming charm, and kicking the transfigured lion back to the sender.

This was going to take a while.

---

As the four of us made it down to the Slytherin Common Room, battered, bruised, and healed at least a dozen times over, there was something wrong.

Not many people hung around outside the entrance, yet here they were.

"What is going on?" asked Severus, after I gave him a poke.

"Oh, the password changed; we thought one of you would do the honors," said one of them.

"Well, what is the new password?" asked Meggan, not bothered.

"Pureblood," said one of the inbred, as the Cold War that I had with the rest of the Slytherin House seemed to have started heating up recently.

Granted, maybe having Lucius stripped naked in one of the unused classrooms for being a pest by falling under the control of the Diary was petty, but it hardly required such a childish response.

Especially when no one knew it was me who did it, as I had removed Lucius' memories.

Naturally, Slytherins blamed Gryffindors for being the only ones bold enough to pull such a 'prank'. Then the 'us versus them' mentality took hold, and next thing you know, half the house lost their manners and started being racist.

I really was not sure what was wrong in the heads of these British Mages.

Lily gave a hiss, while I kept myself composed. "This is childish. Victor, please don't rise to the bait."

I raised an eyebrow, not amused.

"Red, do you think I lack so much self-control I'd just blow the door off its hinges?" I asked, still smiling.

"It did come to mind," muttered Meggan, as I turned to glare at the blonde. She responded with a grin. "Can you do it?" she asked, slightly amused.

"I could, but a more efficient method might help me avoid more detentions. I am booked until the end of term. Severus, muffle me," I said, getting a nod and a soft 'Muffiliato' from the boy.

I placed my hand on the location of the door and started hissing.

My friends knew that I was studying Parseltongue, a magical snake language that could be learned if you had the aptitude for it.

Understanding it was easier than actually speaking it, as it was torture to the larynx.

Fortunately, I had already taken the congenial version of the magic through the absorption of the magic within Tom Riddle's Diary.

Tom's 'Journal' had proven to be a boon, even if it contained a fragment of the soul of a psychotic man-child.

To say that I was determined to take everything that was not nailed down and then some from that Diary would not be a stretch.

When I had consumed the power within the soul piece, I had not really thought of it having any unique magic other than potentially gaining the ability to speak Parseltongue.

Parseltongue was unique, magical in nature, and granted authority over serpents in some weird way. I was pretty sure it was a result of some complex ritual, but practically, it was more of a party trick than anything else. There was no written language, no secret powers it would grant if used in casting spells, and it was mostly a gimmick.

I just wanted it so I could eventually make the victory I would inevitably have over Riddle all the more sweet.

Now, I was using that trick to effectively hack into the baseline enchantments that were placed on the Slytherin Common Room door, by the fact that the mechanism that revealed the door was shaped like a stone serpent.

A few moments of work and I was done.

"Inbreeding Depression," I spoke out calmly, watching the door to our dorm open before us at the new password I set.

Two could play the game of pettiness, but Doom is the pettiest of them all.

---

As I slept, my astral projection worked on a new project.

There was something particular that I got from the Diary that was more useful than the ability to command snakes.

The Diary itself was enchanted, spells were layered through its pages with a specific design in mind.

Bought from a muggle shop, the book had no magic in its creation... intentionally so.

Riddle had clearly spent a long time on his artifact.

The enchantments that Tom had made were a combination of the ones used in the creation of Magical Portraits and Pensives, but there were other spells as well, those that were classified under Bookkeeping and Library spells.

In effect, I could see how the final result could cross-reference information and double as a Pensieve, allowing Tom to do research in a more effective way.

The idea itself was admittedly effective.

The execution needed work.

As far as enchantments were considered, it was not the most elegant. The spells were tied together haphazardly, layered over and over without any grace, until the Diary itself was far too saturated with the spells, to the point that an errant spell would collapse the enchantments and burst it into ash.

Whether or not it was meant to be, the soul fragment that was added to the Diary had turned it into something else entirely.

Something that could be considered almost elegant... if the entire process was not so wasteful.

The addition of the soul had shifted the enchantments on the journal to be more active, smoothing out the spells that should not work together and gaining some added benefits.

The first, and the most obvious, of those benefits was based on the nature of the Diary as an item you poured your soul into. Giving it the ability to possess people who wrote in it, as had been the case in the books I read in my old life.

The true benefit, however, was more subtle.

The way the enchantments worked acted as a filter for the same energy I had absorbed, converting Life Force that the Diary would absorb into a particular composition.

One made from a mix of Ecocentric and Exocentric energies based on the enchantments of the Diary. One that was fed to the rest of the soul through the link a person had to their Soul Pieces.

Given that the Diary was built to syphon, store, and sort through memories, it meant that Riddle had gotten a significant buff to Mental Arts after making the Diary into a Soul Piece, since his soul would share the same magical capabilities.

It was Sorcery, of a sort, I suppose, one that was rather... primitive.

But the energy signature was one that contained a particular component that dominated the spell... one that I was fairly familiar with.

Mind Dimension.

It was pretty brilliant if it was not wasted on something like Riddle.

'If you wish to understand the Universe, think of energy, frequency, and vibration,' as Nikola Tesla once said, meant that I was able to use the energy I stole to isolate it into components, energy sources.

With that in mind, it was rather easy to deconstruct the effect into the form of a Spell Formula of sorts, even if this one did not rely on the system that was taught in Hogwarts and operated on the principles of Sorcery.

So here I was, meditating as I was working to unravel the components that made up the magic that boosted the mind of Riddle, as I attuned myself to the energy, such that I could keep the same effect.

Channeling the energies through Quantum Gates that naturally formed in the fabric of the universe, I wove the power into myself, feeling it slot in together with my existing Mental Defenses.

I could admit that what I had used to be sub-par in comparison to what Riddle had stumbled into. That being said, his trick was now my own, and I was, obviously, significantly better at it.

---

I once more descended into the Chamber of Secrets, which had been changed to now hold a Pensieve.

Within the Pensieve was the Diary of Riddle, drained of any power it held, unable to fight back, and any links it formed with others were long since severed.

While I had taken all its magic, it still had knowledge within it, knowledge that I was in the process of stripping away.

The memories of Tom Riddle would certainly come in handy after all.

Because let it not be said that Doom was not thorough.

The Diary was built using the enchantments of a Pensive, making it much easier to transfer memories within it.

Within the Pensieve was a unique potion of my own artifice, combining four particular potions.

Memory Potion to clarify the information extracted was the obvious one. It was also used as the base liquid within the Pensive, as it kept the memories crisp and fresh.

The other potions, I chose after a week of research.

Veritaserum was an obvious one, since I did not trust Tom, and the weakened vessel could not resist the Truth Serum. And even if Tom was unwilling to share, that was where the next potion came in.

Gregory's Unctuous Unction, invented sometime in the 12th Century by a guy named Gregory the Smarmy, was a potion that made the drinker believe whoever gave the potion was their best friend. In combination with the Veritaserum, it would ensure that I got the truth.

And just because I could, I added Babbling Potion to the mix to ensure that Tom actually talked.

Normally, mixing potions was a bad idea, since the results could be rather toxic. I also did not actually want to permanently damage the Diary accidentally, instead of intentionally, which would happen later. So I needed to figure out a way to mix the four potions into a form that was going to work together.

The answer, as was in all things complicated, lay in Alchemy, to be particular in the process of creating Alchemical Amalgams through the most basic forms of transmutation, using vanishing, conjuration, and a sympathetic bond.

A magical circle on the floor formed the boundary, with four circles inside in cardinal directions, where I placed the vials of potions based on the elemental alignment of the ingredients. In the center, the fifth circle inside the larger one held a vial of distilled water, with elaborate bindings flowing from the outer circles inward.

A protean charm bound the potions to the distilled water, before I vanished each potion, letting them become ether for a moment before the last step... vanishing the water in the middle vial.

Once that was done, I again conjured the same amount of water.

Magic followed the path of least resistance, as the ether that had once been water was again transfigured into water, even as the magic of the potions that had vanished just a moment ago also came with it, anchoring the magic of the potions that was still present in the ether through the sympathetic link into it in doing so.

The result was a vial worth of the liquid I nicknamed Interrogation Infusion, since the ether-to-water transmutation allowed a non-reactive combination of the potions.

I had dumped half the Interrogation Elixir into the Pensieve, storing the rest for later experimentation, and after a month of stewing within it, the Diary had released threads of memory slowly, revealing the secrets that Riddle did not wish to share.

As strands of memory started to slowly pour out of the Diary, I looked in amusement. And they say you cannot waterboard a book.

---

Good news, Riddle's memories, or the first sixteen years of it, showed some useful information.

The effects of the Diary had been... coincidental and not something that Riddle had been aware of. The self-proclaimed greatest Sorcerer in History, the moron, had stumbled into a pretty useful form of Sorcery by accident, while potentially saving his own sanity for any follow-up Horcruxes generated.

It sort of explained why the book version of Riddle, after getting disembodied, was such an unstable nutjob. The destruction of the Diary had caused him to lose the one item that was keeping him mentally stable.

It also meant that the version that existed was more dangerous, and while it would have been more advantageous in the short term to destroy the Diary, I had plans for Mister Flight of Death that would get me some favor with the powers that be.

Instead of the fact that I was facing a more sane Voldemort, I focused on the benefits I got.

That obviously included the entire full curriculum up to sixth year to nicely fill in what I had skipped through.

I had to admit that I had skipped through the more grounded aspects of the theory for the practical usage of the spells, but Riddle had done the studying already, and now, all that he knew was mine, waiting to be consolidated with practice.

The only annoying part was that the Diary did not have anything after it was created.

Granted, I had to assume that Riddle had removed them before planning the Diary with Lucius. Putting your own knowledge close to Dumbledore would have been a risk for Riddle after all, and purging it of anything important was a good idea.

I did, however, learn more about two things.

First was the true purpose of the Chamber of Secrets... and the nature of the Beast of Salazar Slytherin.

It was not the Basilisk.

"Huh... he does actually look like a Monkey," said Ominis, his portrait floating next to me.

"Aren't you blind?" I asked, even if I agreed.

"I am a portrait, Victor," responded Ominis, seemingly having gone through this conversation a billion times.

Granted, observing the petrified corpse of Salazar Slytherin in the inner chamber of the Chamber of Secrets, there were more important matters to discuss than whether the portrait of a blind man should also be ocularly challenged.

The mouth of the Slytherin statue led to the Basilisk's Hibernation Chamber, but also a door that led to an inner sanctum of sorts, one that was occupied by the petrified form of one Salazar Slytherin.

"I mean, I suppose it was true that Salazar had the ego to preserve his own life by petrifying himself," I said, looking at the structure of the mirrors.

A petrified body that Riddle had used as a Killing Curse on... based on the couple of parchments that were sprawled around the study.

"Last time I was in a study of Slytherin, I had to listen to Aleister's screams," said Ominis simply. "Are you sure he is dead?" asked Ominis... "because we should probably make sure. He is very much not a nice person."

"How were you ever friends with Crowley?" I asked, surprised.

"He grew on me, like mold," said Ominis instead. "I blame Sebastian for introducing us."

"Hominim Revelio" I cast, confirming that Salazar's soul did not exist. "Yep, still as dead as he was ten minutes ago."

Given that I knew Riddle's perspective, I was not surprised.

Petrification or not, Killing Curse was a Killing Curse.

"According to what Riddle gathered, Salazar had petrified himself, potentially as an attempt to preserve his life and be woken up later," I spoke out, "Something about being the last one to say 'I told you so' when the muggles eventually overran Hogwarts... or something like that."

That was the true monster of Slytherin, himself. The Basilisk was a guardian of his body.

At least, that was the case until Tom had killed him to make his Horcrux.

"Why kill him, though?" asked Ominis, looking thoughtful.

What was the second secret I learned?

How to make a Horcrux... or rather, the improved version that Riddle had produced.

The original Horcrux Ritual had a very brutal but easy-to-track history.

Herpo the Foul had based the Horcrux on the Ancient Egyptian rituals that created Phylacteries to anchor souls to objects, and used the basis of the immunity to Killing Curse unique to two particular Greek Animals, the three-headed dogs that inspired the myth of Cerberus, and three-headed snakes called Runespoors.

The much older Phylactery was limited in how it could make someone immortal. Since the soul was bound to an object, the body became a simple puppet. Even if the body in turn became immune to dying for the simple fact that it was just a husk being controlled by the soul, the Phylactery itself would have to be carried on the person, or be near them physically, making it impossible to hide the object.

On the other hand, three-headed magical beasts had a unique property of having three independent souls bound to one another.

Which explained why Dumbledore would have wanted Fluffy to act as a guard to the Philosopher's Stone, as the three-headed dog was immune to the Killing Curse that Voldemort would have defaulted to.

Herpo was the one who figured out a rather complex ritual that involved consuming a potion made from Unicorn Blood and Basilisk Venom cooked over Fiendfyre that would keep the drinker alive while turning their body inhospitable to their own soul.

Then the caster would have to use all three of the Unforgivables to break a piece of their soul and guide it into the Horcrux.

The first part, the murder, was more than just a simple act of killing.

The caster had to possess the victim at the time of the murder, a process that would make it impossible for the act to be anything that could be construed as self-defense. The victim would have been defenseless, incapable of protecting themselves.

The act of murder would scar the soul, leaving it exposed to the Cruciatus Curse that would twist the soul until a piece was sheared off, which would then be guided into the vessel.

And I had a suspicion that they had made the three spells 'Unforgivable' because they were all needed for such a foul ritual. Sort of fit, given all other possible spells out there with so much worse effects, and how the Minister at the time, Gamp, was related to one of the more famous Magical Theorists.

Particularly important little nugget of information was based on the Killing Curse and the nature of it... particularly how one would be able to cast the spell.

Like all other spells, you had to mean it to cast it, but there was a particular rule for that spell: you could not succeed in casting the Killing Curse without having killed before.

That was a gatekeeper of sorts, but also the main reason why Killing Curse was an indicator of guilt, that you had killed before and were willing to repeat.

This had led to the question of what was with Myrtle Warren's death to the Basilisk's gaze and how it played into the creation of the Diary.

The death that allowed Riddle to cast the Killing Curse.

Her death had been instrumental in the creation of the Horcrux, from a certain point of view... yet it was not her death that was used to create the Horcrux.

That honor belonged to one Salazar Slytherin...

Well, the petrified body of it.

Which brought me back to the improvements Riddle had done to Herpo's foul ritual.

Because while the original ritual would have potentially allowed for the creation of multiple Horcruxes, Riddle had come to the conclusion that he needed something more than simple murder to use as his act against nature.

While murder was considered unnatural enough to break pieces from the soul, Riddle had wanted more than a single Horcrux... his reasoning leading to 'What is worse than simple murder?' before somehow ending up in 'kinslaying.'

I did not know the other Horcruxes, but I could take a few educated guesses. Tom had made the Ring using the murder of his father, which fit the theory.

The problem was the other two: the Locket was supposedly created after the murder of Hepzibah Smith, the Locket was created after the murder of a Muggle Tramp, and the Diadem's creation used an Albanian peasant.

Though given how manipulative Tom could get... I was thinking it was something more nefarious, potentially an unborn child he could have produced with the particular victims.

It fit with the fate of Bertha Jorkins, who was used in a manner that closely resembled the process of a Daemonculaba as her potential child was used to form the basis of the Babymort.

Alas, I did not know the full details, other than two.

The Killing Curse had killed Salazar Slytherin, and it was cast by Tom Riddle.

"At least there won't be any chance of Salazar Slytherin running around," said Ominis with a sigh.

I paused. Maybe that Riddle, the idiot that he was, had left the most valuable part behind.

"What if he was not fully dead?" I asked mostly myself.

"You said a Killing Curse did him in," responded Ominis, confusion evident in his face.

"Yes, but he was petrified," I responded before pausing. "And ghosts can be petrified," I said, using that particular information about how a Basilisk could be used to petrify a ghost as it had done to Ser Nicholas in the books.

"You will have to explain why that is relevant, Victor. Not everyone is a Raven pretending to be a Snake," said Ominis.

"You know how ghosts are silvery?" I asked in turn. "There are only two other spells of the same color and consistency, the Patronus and Memories extracted from a person," I responded.

"I don't know about that, but it might be blindness," responded Ominis, before waving a hand in front of his face. "But I will take your word for it. So, all of them are based on memories?" asked Ominis.

"Of a sort," I responded, "I have, and I can interact with ghosts using a Patronus, just as I can with Poltergeist. Damaging them is an issue."

"So, a ghost is made from the memories of a dead person?" asked Ominis.

"It is accidental magic of some sort, if my theory is right," I explained, "their fear leads to them leaving behind their memories, which crystalizes and form into independent avatars, ones that cannot grow or move on. If my theory is correct, it would mean that I could, in theory, extract the memories that are still preserved within the petrified Salazar here."

"You are going to need a lot of draught of restoration to unravel the petrification of the full body," responded Ominis. "How do you even test something like that?"

"Well, I just need the head," I said with a smile. "As for a test," I said in turn, grinning while holding up the Goblin Silver axe that I had borrowed from Crowley. "There is a nearly headless ghost that needs to be turned into a completely headless ghost, and I am pretty sure I can do the job with an Obliviation Charm."

AN: This took a few rewrites but enjoy.

It is a bit more exposition heavy but Victor just got done with stealing Riddle's knowledge until he made the Diary, so it is expected. Doing some minor adjustments to the lore to make things a bit more interesting. Makes Voldemort a bit more vile and puts it in context on why he was nerfed in the books since the Diary kept him 'sane'.

Slytherin being petrified in a secret room within the Chamber of Secrets is based on the theory that I watched from the following video. He is very much dead, but that will not prevent Victor from dabbling in some Necromancy. It is also very much a love letter to hidden Slytherin portrait in the Chamber trope in fanfiction.

Spoiler: Video

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: Sep 23, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:bddvil, Don'tBeThatGuy, captainloser and 797 othersGuldsdoneSep 22, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 021: Vipers of von Doom View contentGuldsdoneWizarding WorksOct 13, 2025Add bookmark#2,304"I am leaving," said Valeria, as we sat together, overlooking the valley that the Zefiro had camped in, constantly on the move now that the regime was slowly becoming a threat to minorities. "Grandfather said I should, that there might be trouble soon."

I looked into the eyes of my friend, "I would tell you to join me, but there is trouble in England as well," I said, "trouble seems to find me."

"Hmm, and I haven't met that Lily girl yet, either," she said, with a heat in her voice. "I would have fought to make you not leave if I thought you would be wooing girls in foreign countries, you know?"

"Jealousy does not suit you, Val," I chuckled, even as I enjoyed the banter.

I got a punch in the shoulder for that.

"There is a school in Switzerland," she said after a moment of silence, "I was offered a scholarship. The exit visa is an issue."

I hummed, "I suppose I can take a walk, convince the right person," I said with a smirk. It wouldn't be hard with the right mental push and potentially a silent imperius.

Valeria rolled her eyes, before I was tackled into a hug.

I did not mention that there was no actual scholarship in the particular school she was planning to attend, or that Boris had reached out to me to make sure Valeria was going to be safe away from a potential trouble that Latveria would be experiencing soon.

I felt stretched thin... I needed to get to work.

---

It took me a month after my return from the Winter Break before I had made the required breakthroughs needed to reanimate the head that belonged to Salazar Slytherin, despite the progress I had made in general magic.

"Complete decapitation of Ser Nicholas de Mimsy led to some questions; however, no one for certain knew who the perpetrator was, and what their goals were." I read Ominis' portrait while I continued working.

I had given up on figuring out how he managed to do that.

"While there were no laws broken regarding the dismember of ghosts, an argument is levied that the action is covered under the dismemberment of bodies post-mortem of the Counter-Necromancy Laws of 1738 by one Franken Bones, no charges could be levied as the victim, Ser Nicholas, has admitted that this was his preferred state of being."

I ignored the rest as Ominis regaled me of my actions, instead focusing on the decapitated and petrified head of one Salazar Slytherin, washing it with an Alchemical Elixir made up of Draught of Restoration and Memory Potion to preserve the mental snapshot of the founder.

Both potions contained Mandrake for restorative properties, making the Alchemical Amalgam capable of preserving the flesh.

The petrified body remained where it had been, within the Inner Sanctum of the Chamber of Secrets.

The head, on the other hand, I was using a mix of Voodoo that I read from Crowley's library, and a modification of the Inferi Ritual to animate it with its mind intact. There was other stuff involved, mostly based on what I had learned from Tom's Diary and how it anchored the personality matrix.

The head currently resting in the Penseive gasped and went quiet.

"I don't think it worked," said Ominis, as the head opened its

"~What in the...~" hissed Salazar's head "~Why can't I feel my body?~"

"I stand corrected," said Ominis.

What followed was some very old English that I had trouble understanding.

"~Speak snake, old man, your grasp of language is a few centuries off.~" responded Ominis.

"~I said, what have you done to my body, you mudblooded... You speak the mighty tongue of serpents... are you my descendent? Are you trapped within that portrait?~" responded Salazar.

"Oh, great, he is reflexively racist, who could have predicted," was all I could say, before the animated head started twitching, "~He is just an animated portrait, even if he is your descended, he died a few decades ago. Now, hold still, the enchantments are finicky~" I said, fixing the enchantments.

"~Wait, are you my descendent?~" asked Salazar, eyes turning to me.

"~No,~" I responded, I was something better after all.

"~What happened to me?~" asked Salazar.

"~You died,~" I responded. "~You were killed by your descendant. Now, stop trying to turn around, you do not have a neck.~"

"~Oh...~" Salazar went quiet. "~I am not such a pansy to leave a ghost... what am I?~"

"~Victor animated the preserved memories within your corpse,~" answered Ominis for me, "~Why was your petrified body in Chamber anyway?~"

"~Spite,~" hissed Salazar. "~How else could I prove I was right and had the last laugh when Godric would be proven wrong?~"

His dead eyes flickered, a serpent-like gleam despite their pallor. "~Tell me, what has come to pass since my death? Did the peasants finally rise? Did the serfs seize the castles?~"

"What?" I asked, the word leaving my mouth almost at the same time as Ominis'.

"~Explain,~" I commanded, making use of the magic to force the head to continue.

Salazar's lips curled in disdain. "~Godric, Helena, Rowena… sentimental fools, every one of them. They insisted every child with the faintest spark of magic should be trained, no matter their birth or station. Every child. Utter madness. A serf with a wand is still a serf, but now a dangerous one. I warned them. Give the mud-caked peasantry our craft, and they will rise against their betters. It is inevitable.~"

"~I thought you hated those born to muggles,~" said Ominis after a moment of silence. "~That is what was passed down in the family.~"

"~Pah. The powerless? They threaten none but their own kind... and witless babes untrained in craft,~" responded Salazar. "~It was just a coincidence that most of them were from peasant families and did not even appreciate the education being offered.~"

I raised a brow. "~So your issue was never truly with Muggleborns, but with the class they came from. That is good to know, but I am not here to listen to an old man rant about the class struggles of the tenth century.~" I said, "What do you know of Magic and Sorcery in particular?"

Salazar's head did not resist to command, starting to speak, explaining everything he knew of magic.

The Founders were not simple Witches and Wizards; that was the first fact that I learned.

They were all Sorcerers, to start with, having access to different forms of it, even if the more modern sources simply referred to their abilities as 'Ancient Magic'.

Salazar Slytherin himself had two particular Sorceries that I was interested in.

First was a contract with Volthorr, one of the Octessence, along with information on how to commune with the being and make a contract.

"~All serpents contain a connection to the Veils of Valtorr. Basilisks are able to use the Decay to empower their venom,~" explained Salazar as I held a vial containing Basilisk Venom.

The Ritual required Alchemy, slowly draining a piece of the Dimensional Energy that was within the venom, even as it burned away the Chakra that I was using to contain the Dimensional Energy.

"~I got it,~" I said, as the glowing mix of Psionic Energy, Life Force, and the Dimensional Energy from the Veils glowed a dark green.

"~Good, now absorb it into your body and cycle it within yourself,~" said Salazar's head, "~You already have a piece of it through the Power of Parseltongue, but you need the proper connection before we can proceed. You should have the life force to survive, so long as you keep the power from overwhelming your own.~"

I nodded, absorbing the power.

It was agony, feeling the small amount of the dimensional energy clash against my body.

"I call upon Mithridates, the Fourth of His Name, Eupator, King of Pontus," I evoked, as I clapped, creating a Magic Circle using my body and arms, using the Evocation to mix my life force with the properties that were associated with the progenitor of Mithridatism, the ability to grow immune to poisons by taking small amounts of it into your body at a time.

The Life Force that was containing the Dimensional Energy of Decay shifted, becoming more and more resilient with each moment, until I could feel that the energy was not damaging my life force anymore.

The fact that it took half the reserves I had gained from the Horntail to achieve that was... troubling.

Granted, there were only a few people in Marvel that could call upon Valtorr's power, all of whom had dabbled in some questionable Dark Magics.

"~That looked unpleasant,~" Ominis said from the corner.

I nodded, not willing to speak out.

"~Good, now you are ready to commune with the big guy,~" said Salazar with a grin.

---

The full Evocation of Valtorr required more preparation.

I crafted a large summoning circle in the Mirror Dimension of the Chamber of Secrets, using the skeleton of the Basilisk as a sacrifice to the serpentine Eldritch Horror.

If it was not obvious, fully communing with what amounted to Demon Lords was very much not something you should do in the actual world, hence the Mirror Dimension, acting sort of like Sandboxing when it came to playing around with Malware.

I clapped, once more forming the first Magic Circle that would kickstart the rest of the process.

And as the Evocation took hold, I found myself somewhere else, floating.

The dark vapors felt like acid until I flared my Chakra, which was immune to the effects of the Dimension.

"~Who comes before Volthorr,~" a hiss came from the connection in the Tongue of the Serpents, the words vibrating through my bones.

Despite the protections inscribed into the Magic Circle that was built around me and the opened dimensional breach, I could feel the pressure. The air had a sting of Rot and Decay, hissing of serpents promising secrets filled the silence.

I was prepared to evoke the Vishanti to banish it back to whence it came, should the protections not hold.

Fortunately, the protections held.

And the mists parted, revealing... wait... was that Pyramid Head?

"~A Sorcerer, looking to make a bargain,~" I hissed back in Parseltongue to the Pyramid Head, also known as Valtorr, glad that I learned that bit of power that made communing with this particular Eldritch Horror easier.

"~What do you sacrifice, for the right to evoke upon my name,~" Volthorr's presence hissed, asking and challenging at once.

"~A kill of mine, a predator turned prey, mine by conquest, I give you the bones of the King of Serpents, nearly a thousand years in age,~" I said, dropping the innermost barrier and watching the mists consume the remains of the snake. While I could do a lot with the Basilisk Skeleton, the thousand-year-old bones that were invulnerable to its own caustic venom made for a good sacrifice to the Realm Lord of Decay and Snakes.

"~And I offer you a Bargain of Equivalent Exchange for the right to call upon your realm,~" I said, feeding a bit of the mix of my Psionic and Physical Energies into the circle.

"~That is a mighty beast indeed, fed upon by Magic for so long, I accept your deal, Sorcerer,~" responded Volthorr, the connection closing. "~I shall allow you to call upon my mists when you need them, and to call upon the serpents of this realm, all those who are equal or lesser to the sacrifice you now make, so long as you can pay the cost.~"

Huh... parseltongue was really handy to commune with Volthorr... something that I had no way of doing with my other Sorceries.

Balthakk had been something I inherited from my mother, while Faltine and Ikthalon were both absorbed by force.

Seraphim were the easiest, being linked to the Vishanti and therefore could be evoked by making a few oaths to aid in the protection of the planet.

Still, directly communicating with a power was a new experience for me.

Being able to call upon the Vipers of Volthorr and summon a Basilisk was going to be quite useful, even if I instinctively knew that I did not have the energy to call upon the Basilisk with all the power I held within me.

The connection snapped, and I found myself kneeling in the Mirror Dimension.

A dozen spells evoking the Vishanti to wash away the power of Valtorr, and I dropped back into the Chamber once more.

"~Good, you are alive,~" said the Head of Slytherin, before starting to drone on about Magical Theory.

I sighed.

No rest for the wicked, it would seem.

The second form of magic that I learned from Salazar was called the Wyrding Way.

Wyrding Magic, or Weaver Magic, was a unique form of Ecocentric Magic, allowing one to look into the past of a person or an object by interacting with the energies they held, and also use those skills to fashion binding, craft illusions, and weave enchantments into items.

It was how Slytherin had made his own wand, along with having a hand in the creation of the Sorting Hat.

"~The Wyrding Way is a rare skill, one needed for Wand-crafting, as the Wand itself replicates the effect,~" explained Salazar.

It was the magic used to form the basis of most of the modern Charms Systems, though the modern Magic System was far too streamlined and made easier to use compared to the almost ritualistic practice that preceded it.

In a way, the Four Founders had used Sorcery to lay the foundation of particular branches that became so common in the Wizarding World.

Gryffindor had learned Transfiguration from Greek and Egyptian sources; Salazar's work had become the foundation of Charms. Helga Hufflepuff had been the one to bring in the expertise in Herbology and Potions, and Ravenclaw had provided the foundations of the Magical Theory.

The part that stood out was that it was all arranged by one of their first students... Merlin, before he became Sorcerer Supreme... or rather after... Merlin at a date after he would become the Sorcerer Supreme.

Apparently, the legendary wizard lived time in reverse as far as Salazar could tell. The fact that his memories had a particular amulet around his neck implied that it was a result of messing with the Time Stone.

"~Merlin was one of the first students we had, having sought us on the morn of our meeting in this very valley,~" explained Salazar. "~Each one of us was seeking Apprentices to teach our skills, yet it was Merlin who had combined all our abilities, bringing forth what the Wizarding World calls Magic.~"

The end result was a magic particularly attuned to be used with a Wand, combining Psionic Energy of the caster with the Natural Energy almost directly, allowing some versatile spells that did not rely on personal power beyond mental capabilities and some advanced Arithmancy.

I could see how it complemented the Sorcery that I knew more in depth, without relying on energy from other dimensions, as I had first theorized; it was Sorcery on training wheels.

And the best part was something that Salazar merely mentioned as an offhanded comment.

"~A Weaver's greatest strength is not the spells it casts in battle," said Salazar, "~ but the items they enchant. Hopefully you will learn quickly and fix the enchantments on my head as well, your attempt at Necromancy is pitiful as it is.~"

I sighed in frustration. Everyone was a critic.

Weaving was Enchanting, and the first spell that it had was what I would mentally dub Structural Analysis... or at least the closest equivalent of it.

Weaving could be used to get a read on the entire history of an object, which, while not useful normally, shone rather well in the hands of a person whose mind was enhanced to store and sort information.

That was going to make crafting my armor way more effective.

After some rest, though, the Sorcery I had used had already taken a lot from me.

---

Time flew, as I was juggling learning new Sorcery with the relatively low workload of Second Year.

Slytherin had somehow won the House Cup, despite the fact that I had managed to get more detention than the total number of free hours a student had when McGonagall realized that I was using an animated suit that was possessed by my Patronus and layered with an illusion to look like me to take those detentions.

The Defense Professor, some retired Auror, whose name I did not even bother recalling despite my Eidetic Memory enhanced with magic, had slipped and fallen down the Moving Staircase into an open Iron Maiden that Filch was in the process of relocating to his collection.

Overall, a usual, uneventful year that ended with nothing important happening.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't von Doom," said an annoying voice as the door to our compartment was opened.

I looked up from the book on Advanced Alchemy that contained some Transmutation Circles that I needed to create armor.

While my progress in Weaving was steady, it lacked in how I could integrate technology into it.

That was where Mathematical Transmutation came in, capable of creating complex atomic structures so long as you could mathematically derive the entire structure, the number of repetitions, and so on.

It meant that I could create Microprocessors with the help of Alchemy... even though it had proven to be far more complicated than what I could learn from the Hogwarts Library.

Could I trick Dumbledore into helping me learn more Alchemy? Maybe get me in contact with Flamel?

It was worth a shot.

Now, what sort of bait would get a six-hundred-year-old Alchemist to come biting?

I was distracted from my thoughts by a body elbow to the ribs, as I met the annoyed green eyes of Evans.

"What?" I asked, as she pointed at the two kids standing by the door.

Right...

"Runt of the Blacks... and friend..." I said, looking at the eleven-year-old Regulus Black and the Ravenclaw next to him.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior, my friends call me Barty," said the boy, giving a nod.

"Pleasure," I responded, looking at the two future Death Eaters... though maybe not. "Why are you bothering us?" I asked instead.

"Whatever spell you put on Bella, I want you to undo it," he said, putting on a brave front.

"I have not hexed your cousin for the last..." I checked my watch. "One week, three days and three hours, and change... I had better things to do."

"Why is she so moody then?" asked Regulus. "Andy was complaining about her having weird dreams."

I pinched the bridge of my nose to avoid the migraine.

"Did Goyle put you up to this?" I asked simply. The fourth year had somehow become the leader of the junior Death Eaters once Lucius had become more reserved and kept his head down.

"It was Sirius, actually," said Barty with an amused look.

I sighed, using the copy of a research paper to mark the page in the book. It was a paper on a rather controversial study on the electro-conductive properties of Alchemical material and their relation to magical conductivity, to mark the page I was on. The only reason that it got my attention in the first place was that the author was found dead in his home with the doors locked.

I was distracted from my thoughts once more by a kick in the shin. I looked up across from me to Meggan, who pointed at the guests we had.

Right... that.

I am going to build a Doombot just to handle the whole school drama. I was too old for high school drama, spiritually at least.

"I suppose you are all old enough," I said, with a nasty grin. "You see, as you grow older, boys and girls start to get these urges..."

Two could play this game; Black and Doom were not above mentally scarring eleven-year-olds.

---

We exited Platform Nine and Three Quarters, as I felt someone's eyes on me.

"What is it?" asked Mister Evans, to which I simply shrugged.

"Must have been the wind. Why don't you guys go ahead? I will check something," I said. "Alfie will keep an eye on you," I added, commanding the currently invisible House Elf.

I closed my eyes as I walked away, feeling the Life Force around me, walking to the man in the large black hat and trenchcoat that was currently walking away from me. His Life Force felt different... wrong kind of different.

Given that he felt closer to Salazar's head than Lupin, I had reasonable evidence to suggest that he was a Vampire.

As I turned the corner, I was met with a dead end... an empty dead end.

I felt something hit the back of my head, and I blacked out.

AN: 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.