The next five years were a blur of progress and power. My empire spread across Europe and beyond, unseen but everywhere.
I constructed containment camps in isolated forests and hidden valleys, where I experimented on groups of Muggles — not through bloodshed, but through observation, enchantment, and magical alteration. They were tools to test my theories of magical infusion and ritual precision, their minds wiped after each experiment.
The Dementors, drawn to my aura of control and mastery, swore loyalty. Magical creatures that had once shunned humanity now bowed before me — trolls, werewolves, and even lesser vampires. The world's darkest beings had found their shepherd.
My research expanded into chimerology, the creation and study of magically fused creatures. Each success brought me closer to transcending mortal boundaries.
Occasionally, I visited my allies — Abraxas Malfoy, whose young son Lucius already showed promise, and the noble Black family, where Sirius and Regulus were still children. The wizarding elite were breeding their next generation, unaware that I had already begun cultivating my own.
And then, there was Lily.
I returned to the Evans home once more, the same small dwelling that had first drawn my curiosity years ago. She was five now, lively and bright, her magical core already humming with strength. I cast a gentle sleeping charm — silent, soft, absolute. She would not wake.
I began my work again, my wand gliding through the air as I invoked runes of the mind. With painstaking care, I deepened the structure I had built years before — her second self, her hidden consciousness. I infused it with my most advanced knowledge: intricate wandless casting, layered curses, runic logic, and deep Occlumency.
Then came the true artistry — shaping her inner world. Within her mindscape, I crafted a persona, one that mirrored my own brilliance and cunning. A queen in the shadows, elegant, sadistic, and utterly loyal to me. I wove false memories into this identity — memories of my guidance, my affection, my mentorship. She would love me with unbreakable devotion, her mind molded around that single truth.
When her time came, Dumbledore would see nothing more than a bright, innocent Muggle-born girl.But beneath that façade would rest something infinitely darker — my creation. My blood sister. My loyal shadow.
I could have taken her from the Muggles. Raised her myself. Molded her openly.But I needed her there — to grow under Dumbledore's watch, to earn his trust, to see the world as he wanted it to be… before I tore it all away.
I stepped back, admiring my work as the runes on her skin faded and her breathing steadied. Her mind now held both light and darkness, her soul a perfect balance between them.
"Sleep well, little sister," I whispered softly. "Your time will come soon enough."
And with that, I vanished into the night once again, leaving behind a child who would one day become the perfect weapon — and the truest proof of my genius.