It took a month of pruning, rewiring, and silence to reach this point — and now I stood before the heart of the Ministry's secrets: the Forbidden Library.
The doors were older than the rest of the Ministry, black iron veined with ancient runes that shimmered faintly when touched. I could feel the age of the magic here, not just in the protective wards, but in the weight of the place itself — as though the air remembered every spell ever spoken within. The Library was sealed under countless charms, most of them keyed only to the Minister and the Department of Mysteries. Fortunately, I was now both in practice, if not in title.
With a gesture and a word in an ancient tongue, the doors parted, groaning like stone under pressure.
Inside, the chamber stretched far deeper than the building should have allowed. Endless rows of tomes, scrolls, and bound grimoires lined the walls, each pulsing faintly with the residue of power. The scent of aged parchment mixed with something metallic and sharp — the smell of knowledge that had teeth.
I walked between the shelves slowly, trailing my fingers along the spines of books that could unmake kingdoms. Some were written in languages even my vast intellect struggled to recognize; others whispered as I passed, offering glimpses of the secrets they contained.
This was no mere archive — this was humanity's shadow, gathered, bound, and buried beneath bureaucracy.
There were volumes on necromancy, entire treatises detailing the art of recalling souls, bending corpses, and merging essence with magic. I saw grimoires on fire curses, ones that could burn souls instead of flesh, and scrolls on elemental invocation, detailing ways to command the winds and storms themselves.
One section in particular caught my eye — ancient magic. Few alive understood it anymore, that raw primal energy that existed before structured spellcraft. I traced the markings on one tome and felt it hum under my touch, resonating with my soul's own chaotic rhythm.
But the most dangerous were the shelves devoted to forbidden counter-magic — spells designed to nullify or unravel other magics. Here I found the Counter to the Fidelius Charm, something long thought impossible. A ritual to unbind Animagus forms, and even a series of fragments theorizing how to remove magic entirely from a living being. The concept was horrifying and fascinating all at once — the complete excision of one's magical core, stripping them of their identity as a witch or wizard. The early notes claimed it was theoretical. The later ones claimed it had been done — once.
I absorbed everything I could. I used copying charms, memorization spells, and my own photographic memory to drink in the texts. Every page added to me — to my power.
I learned curses that could tear through reality itself, hexes that could reduce magical constructs to dust, and enchantments that could bind souls to objects with surgical precision.
The Ministry had feared this place for good reason. If the public ever knew what was locked here, or if the Order ever reached it, entire moral systems would collapse overnight. But for me — it was treasure.
Hours passed, or maybe days. Time bent strangely in that place. Eventually, I stood in the center of the Library surrounded by dozens of open tomes, each page alive with dark script that shimmered in crimson and silver light.
"I see why they buried you," I murmured, eyes glowing faintly. "You're too dangerous for the weak."
I extended my hand, absorbing the resonance of several texts into my core. My body felt heavier, my magic sharper — volatile, alive. The surge of power was intoxicating.
And as the light faded, I realized something deeper. With this knowledge, I was no longer merely powerful. I was becoming complete. Every fragment of magical history, every hidden truth, every forbidden principle — it was all becoming part of me.
When I finally left the Library, sealing it once again behind me, I could feel my aura pulsing with something new. Something ancient. Something beyond what Dumbledore or Grindelwald had ever touched.
Now, the Ministry was mine in truth — its power, its knowledge, its legacy. And with the secrets of the Forbidden Library burning within me, even Dumbledore's light would one day bow to my shadow.