I allow the transfiguration to fade, Lily's familiar face melting away as my true form reemerges. Power hums beneath my skin—dark, refined, controlled. The disguise served its purpose. Now, it's time to return to business.
With a soft crack, I apparate straight back into the Ministry of Magic. My arrival causes the usual ripple of fear and reverence; everyone bows their heads as I pass. They know who rules here.
Diagon Alley has already fallen under my control. Every shopkeeper, every vault-connected business, even Gringotts itself operates under my influence. Whispers of rebellion have died out—silenced not through brute force, but through the sheer inevitability of my rule. England's magical world belongs to me now… all except for one place. Hogwarts.
And, of course, the man who still dares to oppose me—Albus Dumbledore.
Unfortunately for him, I am always watching. A few days ago, I intercepted a letter bearing his seal, bound for the International Confederation of Wizards. In it, he pleaded for their "urgent intervention in the British magical crisis." A desperate attempt to rally global support before I've consolidated my power.
That cannot be allowed.
If the ICW sends forces before I've secured England completely, it could complicate my plans. But once my control is absolute—once Hogwarts falls—no one will dare move against me. With the Ministry, Azkaban, Diagon Alley, and Nocturne Alley all under my rule, I will have political immunity. They will call me a Dark Lord, but I will be the law.
That is why I now walk the ancient halls of Hogwarts. The castle hums with magic—old, proud, stubborn. The only fortress left standing between me and absolute sovereignty. And I intend to bring it to its knees.