With a flick of my wrist, the tattoo on the back of my right hand shimmered, and reality split open like a curtain. My dimensional library—my infinite vault of knowledge—answered my call once more.
From the swirling depths of shelves stretching beyond infinity, I summoned two more treasures.
First came the Book of Vishanti.Its pages radiated pure brilliance, a soft, ancient light that washed over my study and dimmed the glow of every other spellbook around me. Where the Darkhold pulsed with hungry shadow, the Vishanti hummed with calm, absolute power.
It was said to rival the Darkhold, a kind of mirrored opposite—where one corrupted, the other purified; where one destroyed, the other restored.
And like the Darkhold, this tome had thousands of pages, many of which rearranged themselves as if they were thinking.
I opened it carefully, feeling the protective wards test my worth. They snapped into place around me, recognising my immunity and my overwhelming potential. The book welcomed me.
The spells inside were breathtaking—white magic, miracle spells, planetary-scale wards, holy incantations, and forces that even cosmic entities respected. If I wanted to fight gods, demons, celestials, ancient horrors—these spells would be priceless.
Light and dark.Order and chaos.Both in my hands.Both obedient to my will.
Then I summoned the second item.
Severus Snape's personal potion notes.
A flimsy-looking notebook, ink-smudged, dog-eared, unassuming—yet infinitely more valuable than most spellbooks in existence. Snape was a potioneering genius, a pioneer who saw beyond conventions, someone who changed, enhanced, or perfected almost every potion he ever laid hands on.
His margins were filled with sharp commentary, crossed-out formulas, shortcuts, improvements—and entirely new brews no one else in Hogwarts ever discovered.
Harry Potter–world ingredients did not exist here in the Marvel universe. But that wasn't a problem.
Not for me.
My library didn't contain only magical texts.It also contained scientific manuals, biology texts, botanical catalogues, alchemy treatises, and records from worlds where magic and science coexisted.
So I began working.
Using:
my perfect magic control,
my genius-level IQ,
my multidimensional knowledge,
and Snape's formulas as a base,
I started reconstructing Harry Potter plants from scratch.
Not perfectly identical—but equivalent.
If a potion required Gillyweed, I designed a magically‑stimulated underwater plant with the same biological properties.If it required Fluxweed, I created a magically resonant herb that grew stronger with lunar cycles.If it required Boomslang skin, I found magical creatures native to Marvel Earth that had similarly potent biological components.
Some ingredients I improved.Some I reinvented entirely.Others I hybridized with alchemical materials from the DXD, Fate, or Asgardian magical systems to create new magical plants that had never existed before.
Equivalent exchange.Biomancy.Alchemy.Pure mana manipulation.Science.Magic.All blended into one seamless craft that only someone like me could wield.
Within weeks, my alchemy floors were filled with rows of enchanted planters, glowing vines, animate herbs, rune‑infused flowers, and crystalline fruit that pulsed with magical light.
I brewed modified versions of Snape's potions—more stable, more potent, and far less limited by Hogwarts' primitive rules.
I was no longer just a witch who studied magic from all universes.I was slowly becoming something else—a creator of new magical knowledge.
And my tower echoed with growing power.