The castle loomed before me, a mountain-born fortress of stone and magic. Its spires pierced the clouds, and runes carved into its walls glowed faintly, warning any who dared approach that this place was not to be trifled with. Hundreds of wards intertwined like a living organism, protective enchantments layered upon each other in a complexity that would have made even the Ministry's strongest wizards tremble.
I did not hesitate. Each step I took was precise, my wand ready, senses stretched to detect even the smallest flicker of defensive magic. Every glyph, every ward, I dismantled, bent, or simply bypassed with my immense understanding of the dark and ancient magics. By the time I reached the massive steps leading to the castle's gates, the defenses bowed in subtle recognition of my power—or perhaps merely my bloodline.
Inside, silence greeted me. The air smelled of old parchment and stone, heavy with a faint hum of lingering magic. My first destination was obvious: the library.
I walked through the grand hallways, eyes catching on statues that seemed to watch me, tapestries that moved slightly as if breathing. The Peverells had not merely built a castle—they had made it a sentient guardian of their legacy. Every door and corridor was laced with traps, illusions, and warnings, but I had long surpassed such petty defenses.
The library itself was breathtaking. Hundreds of meters long, soaring ceilings, shelves upon shelves stacked with texts from floor to floor, spiraling into a dizzying maze of knowledge. Books of every size, shape, and age filled the room, some floating lazily in midair as if held by invisible hands. Ancient scrolls whispered softly to each other, the faintest echoes of long-forgotten secrets. The sheer magnitude of knowledge threatened to overwhelm any ordinary mind—but not mine.
I began my survey immediately. Every section called to me: necromancy, soul magic, death rituals, elemental manipulation, enchantments older than recorded history. The Peverells' insight into life and death was unmatched, their experiments written in meticulous detail. Many spells and diagrams were so advanced that I could feel the magic resonating off the pages, eager to be wielded once again.
As I walked deeper, I discovered books bound in skin that was neither human nor entirely animal. Arcane runes carved along their spines glowed faintly, alive with intent. Opening one, I discovered detailed accounts of soul transference, how energy could be extracted and reshaped, how consciousness could be split and stored. These were the experiments that had allowed the Peverells to master the Hallows beyond mere legends.
The higher floors revealed rarer texts. I found accounts of manipulating life itself, of bending the laws of aging and decay, of using magical artifacts to create life-like constructs. A section of the library seemed devoted entirely to horcrux-like soul manipulation, and I recognized immediately how this knowledge could augment my existing experiments.
Hours passed—I barely noticed. I moved like a shadow, taking in every page, memorizing spells, rituals, and their conditions. Here lay all the missing pieces I had been searching for in my experiments with soul and death magic.
One volume, in particular, caught my attention. Bound in silver and etched with an intricate pattern of intertwined serpents and phoenix feathers, it described the Creation of the Soul Nexus, a method to unite life, death, and soul magic into a single coherent flow. With this, one could heal, dominate, or even resurrect with unprecedented power.
I felt a thrill run through me. This was it. This knowledge would allow me to surpass even my previous achievements. It would make me untouchable—not just in battle, but in life and death itself.
I took the volume carefully and set it aside. I would begin practicing immediately. The Peverell library, vast as it was, would be my sanctuary, my laboratory, and my arsenal. Every book here was a weapon, every scroll a blueprint for dominion.
And with the castle under my command, no one would ever take this knowledge from me. Not Dumbledore, not the Ministry, not even time itself.