The Dark wizard never expected the young man in front of him to open with the Imperius Curse.
Even worse, he had cast it wandlessly.
Who the hell understands this? Are people just casually throwing around Unforgivable Curses without wands these days?
He felt as though he had fallen into a soft cloud, wrapped in layer after layer of gentle bliss, sinking into boundless happiness.
Under the command of the other party, he obediently handed over the wand hidden in his robes.
He also offered a precious bottle of Water of Life and Death from his collection, but Mr. Potter was kind-hearted and couldn't bear to take from the poor, so he left behind the man's three silver Sickles and eleven bronze Knuts.
From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed several photographs hanging on the wall. Many of the faces had been crossed out with red ink.
"What are those?" Harry asked.
"Contracts I've taken," the Dark wizard answered honestly. "I usually accept assassination jobs from Muggles. How else am I supposed to make money?"
Harry thought for a moment and decided this Dark wizard might still be useful.
After all, the members of the Dueling Club couldn't spend all their time practicing or engaging in harmless duels with classmates. They needed real combat experience.
And here was the perfect live target… or rather, training material.
"You're hired."
Harry left the cryptic remark hanging in the air and turned to leave the Dark wizard's home.
The man stood there in confusion, unsure what the young stranger had meant.
After wandering through the alleys for a while, Harry used *Revelio* again and located the next house.
The moment the door opened, Harry was hit by an indescribable stench—like something that had been pickling for far too long.
"What are you working on?" Harry asked curiously.
"Who the hell are you?" the wizard snapped.
"Oh, I'm just here to borrow your wand," Harry answered honestly.
"Here, take it. Now get lost."
The wizard pulled a wand from his robes and shoved it impatiently into Harry's hand. Then he slammed the door shut with a loud bang, leaving Harry standing outside.
Wait… you're just giving it to me?
Harry raised the wand, gave it a flick and a twist.
It was a real wand—not one of those joke-shop toys from Zonko's or a liquorice wand from the sweet shop.
Harry's expression grew serious.
Giving up his wand so easily? He must be hiding something.
He tested the lock on the door handle with the borrowed wand, took a few steps back, and prepared to use an unlocking charm.
(Harry)
"Bombarda Maxima!"
A flash of fire erupted, followed by a deafening explosion. The door and the entire front wall of the house were blasted away.
The soot-covered wizard coughed violently and stared blankly at the destruction outside.
I already gave you the damn wand! What more do you want?!
"Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "I meant to use *Alohomora*, but I forgot the incantation. I hope you can forgive me."
"You literally just said the spell!" the wizard cried in outrage.
Harry gave a small, polite bow. "That is precisely why I'm apologizing—"
As he spoke, he looked around. This wizard's home was far from ordinary.
The interior resembled Professor Snape's dungeon office, except far more sinister. Greenish jars and bottles lined the walls, filled with various organs and body parts. Harry even spotted a preserved human head floating in one of the containers.
"So this wand… isn't yours, is it?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
The wizard was still breathing heavily. He didn't know who this young man was, only that Dawlish had met his end at his hands.
"That's none of your business, kid—I already gave you the wand. Now leave me to continue my experiments in peace."
Harry looked past the wizard's shoulder and saw a man tied up behind him. The captive's face was filled with terror, his mouth sealed by a spell. His clothes clearly marked him as a Muggle.
Without hesitation, Harry pointed at the man. The silencing charm vanished instantly.
"Help!" the man gasped desperately.
"He's a Muggle?" Harry asked the Dark wizard. "Why did you kidnap him?"
The wizard suddenly reached into his robes—
But Harry was faster. He snapped his fingers, and the Dark wizard transformed into a spider.
Guided by an ancient spell, the spider shot toward Harry's feet.
Splat.
The spider burst into a mess of innards, coating the sole of Harry's shoe.
The Muggle man's eyes widened in horror.
Holy fucking Christ…
He swallowed hard, mentally running through every good deed he had ever done in his life and praying fervently.
"You're safe now, sir," Harry said gently.
"Thank you… thank you—" the rescued man panted, still shaken. "God, he was a monster… Are you… are you like him?"
"That depends on how you look at it," Harry replied with a mild smile.
"I think you're definitely a good person, sir," the man said, eyes growing wet. "My name is John. John Straus."
He continued rapidly, "That evil wizard… he captured many people like me—people without magic. Several have already been tortured to death. Thank you, great sir, for saving me just before he could start on me… There are two more people still alive in the basement…"
"Go bring them up," Harry said. He pointed his wand at the destroyed entrance. "*Reparo!*"
Under John's reverent gaze, the scattered bricks flew back into place like iron filings drawn to a magnet. In moments, the house was fully restored.
Harry glanced at him.
John hurried down to the basement and soon returned with a man and a woman.
"Thank you, wizard sir," the pair said tearfully. "We thought we were going to die here…"
"At least you're still alive, aren't you?" Harry said. "Are you all Muggles? I mean, are all the people he captured non-magical?"
"Those two knew magic," the woman said, pointing at the severed head floating in a jar. She immediately gagged and vomited on the floor.
"What did he want with you?" Harry asked.
"We don't know," all three answered honestly.
John suddenly spoke up. "Wait—last night, I think I saw a black-haired man in the basement. I might have been mistaken, but his body seemed… transparent."
"Transparent?" Harry frowned. "A ghost? What did he look like?"
"Very handsome. He resembled a young Byrne Anderson—only even more good-looking," John replied.
Harry noted the detail and continued, "Anything else? Any other distinctive features?"
"I don't remember anything more," John said.
Harry turned to the other two. They both shook their heads.
"Very well," Harry said with a nod. "That's all I needed to ask. I'll escort you out of Knockturn Alley shortly. This place is a gathering spot for Dark wizards—it's quite dangerous for people without magic."
"We understand. Thank you," the three said, nodding quickly.
After everything they had been through, they knew Harry wasn't exaggerating.
"Um… wizard sir," the woman asked hesitantly, "are you… some kind of wizard police officer?"
"No, I'm not an Auror," Harry said with a smile. "I'm just an ordinary student who wants an ordinary life."
The three looked at him with deep respect.
With power like that… you're still a student?
Have students in the wizarding world become this powerful?
Harry knew what they were thinking. He shrugged and gave a small, wry smile. "Alright, perhaps I'm a little bit special."
When escorting them out of Knockturn Alley, Harry reluctantly accompanied them to a bank and accepted a "reward."
It wasn't a huge sum, but they clearly came from wealthy families. In the end, Harry received some pounds, which he deposited into his personal account.
Since they had shown gratitude, he chose not to cast a Memory Charm on them.
After all, he was just an ordinary Hogwarts student. Obliviating Muggles wasn't his responsibility.
Still, he thoughtfully used spells to blur the more disturbing memories—such as the floating head and the various organs—replacing them with harmless mosaics in their minds.
"Goodbye, wizard classmate."
The three waved at Harry, thanking him once more.
Harry waved back and bid them farewell.
He didn't forget to take another sip of Ageing Potion to maintain his older appearance.
Standing at the entrance of the Muggle bank, Harry pondered what John had said.
Who was that young man's soul? What connection did he have with the Dark wizard?
He suddenly felt a twinge of regret.
Damn it. I killed him too quickly!
He had been too focused on delivering justice.
Sometimes being overly decisive wasn't entirely a good thing.
But what was done was done. Harry decided not to dwell on it.
He had visited the Muggle bank—now it was time for the wizarding one. There were still important materials waiting for him in Vivi's vault.
As for that small sum of money, he had no intention of touching it. When Vivi returned, she might need it—perhaps to buy a property or something similar.
With that thought, Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron.
Old Tom didn't recognize him. Seeing the young man head straight for the brick wall, the landlord said nothing and simply continued mixing drinks behind the bar.
Harry passed through the wall and stepped back into Gringotts.
The bank looked exactly as it had on his previous visit. Goblins hurried about while witches and wizards sat at counters or followed goblins down to the vaults.
Harry glanced around and spotted a familiar face—the goblin named Griphook, who had helped him last time.
Preferring to deal with someone he knew, Harry sat down at the counter.
"Name," Griphook said without looking up.
"Harry Potter," Harry replied, not bothering to hide his real name.
Griphook made a small sound of acknowledgment.
"Oh, Harry Potter. Didn't you withdraw money last year?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Griphook paused, sensing something was off.
He looked up at Harry, slightly hesitant.
"I seem to remember… you were a first-year last year, weren't you?"
Griphook's small eyes scanned Harry up and down. *Do human children grow this fast these days? You miss them for a few days and suddenly you can't recognize them… What exactly have you been eating at Hogwarts? Magical fertilizer?*
He didn't dwell on it, however. Lowering his head again to sort through documents, he said casually, "Right, the Potter vault, then? Even though you've come in person, I'll still need the vault key. That's Gringotts policy. You understand, Mr. Potter?"
"No, not the Potter vault," Harry said. "I need to visit another one."
"Another one?" Griphook looked up.
"Yes, the other one." Harry pulled out the vault number Vivi had given him. "Vault 313."
"Vault 313… one moment, Mr. Potter." Griphook crouched down and retrieved a thick stack of files from beneath the counter. "I'm sorry, but I don't have a strong recollection of this vault. It appears no one has accessed it in many years. Please wait while I check the records."
"Of course," Harry said understandingly.
A short while later, Griphook looked up with a hesitant expression.
"Vault 313? The one opened a hundred years ago by Miss Vilettia Elizabeth Amalie Grindelwald from the Austro-Hungarian Empire?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed.
"The records state that the token is a wand," Griphook continued, still unaware of the gravity of the situation. "Holly wood, phoenix tail feather, eleven inches, with a ruby and red veins. The base is engraved with the name 'Vivi.'"
"Oh." Harry hadn't known about the engraving. He took out the wand and examined the base. Sure enough, the name was there.
He lifted his head to show the wand to Griphook—only to find the goblin staring at it with pure terror.
Hmm?
Then Harry remembered: he had used this wand to kill several goblins. Perhaps it was particularly horrifying to them?
With that thought, he looked down at the wand himself and noticed it was glowing with an eerie red light.
Oh no.
He moved to put it away, but it was too late.
A powerful wave of magic burst from the wand's tip, spreading throughout the entire Gringotts hall!
Wizards and witches conducting business suddenly noticed the goblins around them displaying expressions of utmost horror.
Not just the tellers behind the counters—even the goblin guards at the doors fell to their knees, clutching their heads and screaming.
"What… what is this?!"
"My ancestors are screaming!"
"I can smell the blood of our kin!"
In Harry's eyes, the wand seemed to be rejoicing. The red veins pulsed with flowing light, and the shaft trembled violently, as if thirsting for battle.
At that moment, Harry finally understood what had just happened.
The wand had sensed the presence of its prey and was releasing an aura of fear!
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