The Himalayan Sanctuary
The Portkey deposited the stolen body high in the Himalayas, on a desolate, wind-whipped plateau. The temporary adult glamour of the Polyjuice Potion wore off quickly, leaving behind the plain, unmemorable face and slight frame of Finnegan Rourke, the perfect identity for a ghost.
He sought out the monks of the Wandless Way, a secluded order who lived in an ancient, unplottable temple carved into the mountain rock. The monks accepted him without question, believing only that he was a sincere seeker of ancient knowledge.
For the next three years, the entity lived a Spartan existence, dedicating every waking moment to mastering the power he had stolen. He devoured their libraries, which held not books, but vast, intricate tapestries and scrolls detailing centuries of knowledge on pure, mental command over magic. The monks taught him that the true source of magic was not the earth, but the wizard's own magical blood—the fluid that flowed from the core to the brain, carrying the will. The wand was merely a focus for the weak-willed.
His goal was to bypass the wand entirely. He trained his mind to act as the perfect conductor, using an internal, ruthless discipline known as the Silent Calculation.
He practiced for hours, focusing his mind on a single concept, such as Ignis (Fire). Instead of channeling the emotion and energy outward through a wand, he forced the magical blood through his own internal pathways—the capillaries and nerves—using his sheer will as the conduit. He would begin by attempting to heat a single cup of water, often failing until his nose bled from the intense mental strain. After months, he could heat the water to boiling with a silent mental command, then, with greater precision, transmute the water into a small, contained Fire Serpent that danced on his palm, all without sound or wand.
It was during these silent years, staring out at the endless white peaks, that he officially selected his new, sovereign name. Inspired by the legends of rebirth from fire and his own immense, unholy ambition, the name that resonated with his supreme ego was to be Phoenix Hellflame. He would not use the name aloud until the physical transformation was complete.
By 1989, he was casting complex, silent, wandless Charms and Transfigurations that would rival an Auror, all from the body of a fourteen-year-old boy. He had mastered the core, but he had reached the inevitable, painful plateau. He confirmed his theory: the standard human heart, even a pure-blood one, was a biological bottleneck, limiting the speed and volume of magical blood that could be pumped to the brain and extremities. He needed a stronger, faster, draconic engine.
The Hunt for the Cold-Fire
The hunt for the perfect biological upgrade began. Phoenix—still referred to as "the boy" in the mind of the narrative—used his vast, untouched Muggle fortune, secured under the Hellflame Family Fund, to orchestrate a complex mercenary operation in the Andes Mountains to cover his true objective: the Peruvian Cold-Fire Dragon.
The entity used a customized, long-range Charms array—a complex, self-modifying Portkey—to travel instantly between the high peaks of the Himalayas and the Andes. The hunt was a brutal, terrifying, three-day ordeal. The dragon, massive with obsidian scales, breathed bursts of crystalline, frigid blue fire.
The entity did not use spells of raw power; he used spells of absolute, silent precision. Wandless, he targeted the beast's nervous system with a series of intricate Cutting and Binding Charms that brought the monster down, broken and alive.
Working with breathtaking speed and horrific intent, he extracted the pulsing Dragon Heart, securing the dragon's blood, bones, and crystalline flesh. The dragon carcass was left for the Muggle mercenaries to discover, a distraction to ensure his presence in the region was covered by the flurry of reports of an "unnatural industrial accident."
The time for simple training was over. The time for rebirth had begun.