"How is this possible? How could it be you, Harry Potter! Are you really under Voldemort's control?" Ollivander was utterly shocked.
"How is this possible? How could it be you, Harry Potter! Are you really under Voldemort's control?"
Ollivander was utterly shocked. Standing before him was indeed Harry Potter. During the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had been whisked away by a Portkey during the live broadcast, where he encountered Voldemort. The two had merged, yet that fusion had not hindered the resurrection ritual.
In the end, however, the one who appeared was neither Voldemort nor Harry, but a fusion of the two—a strikingly handsome Harry Potter. His handsome face had been featured on the front page of the Daily Prophet for several consecutive days.
Ollivander naturally recognized that face, as well as Harry Potter's wand. Seeing both together left no doubt that this was the real one, not some impostor.
"You see! You know me, you recognize this wand, and you understand who I am now. So, will you hand over the Elder Wand?"
Fusion inevitably brought changes—in personality and temperament. Just like now, trying to persuade Ollivander. The original Voldemort would never have done this. If the other party showed even the slightest hesitation, he would have immediately unleashed an Unforgivable Curse.
Legilimency and Cruciatus were Voldemort's usual spells. And if his patience wore thin, he would cast Avada Kedavra without a second thought.
"I truly don't have it. The Elder Wand was stolen decades ago… by the previous Dark Lord."
Ollivander spoke almost through sobs. Finished! It was over! He was going to die!
The handsome Harry Potter's expression twisted. He had no further leads on the Elder Wand's whereabouts. Unlike Regulus, the transmigrator who knew from the start that it was in Dumbledore's possession, he had to rely solely on piecing together clues.
"Take him. We're leaving."
Once again shrouding his face in black mist, the group left Ollivander's wand shop. Two Death Eaters carried the unconscious Ollivander, while the one at the rear looked around at the scattering crowd and let out a satisfied, sinister laugh.
"Morsmordre!"
With a raised hand, a green magical mark shot into the sky. A skull opened its jaws wide, and from within slithered a green serpent. The Dark Mark rose like a sickly green firework, swelling larger and larger as it climbed into the night sky.
Seeing the Dark Mark filled the onlookers with panic. They had already witnessed the black cloud attacking Ollivander's shop, but they could do nothing to help. And they knew this was the Death Eaters' signature calling card.
"Where to, my Lord?"
While flying, a Death Eater addressed the handsome Harry Potter.
"Number 4, Privet Drive. My aunt's house—the family of this body. They're all idiotic swine. This time, I'll just kill them along the way."
The handsome Harry Potter thought for a moment before replying. A family of useless Muggles and fools—why leave them alive?
At first, the Death Eaters had reservations about this new master, a fusion of two beings. But now they saw—this was still their original Lord Voldemort!
If he could so easily decide to kill even his own relatives, what reason was there to doubt him?
Wizards had several means of travel. Voldemort and the Death Eaters manifested as black smoke, while the Order of the Phoenix appeared in white smoke. Some claimed this was just for visual distinction, to mark allegiance and stance.
But in truth, it reflected their magical essence and state of mind. In this idealistic wizarding world, those who saw themselves as good and rarely used dark magic naturally emitted white smoke, a symbol of light.
Voldemort and the Death Eaters, on the other hand, knew they were doing evil, reveled in it, and wielded dark magic daily. Naturally, they manifested as black smoke, a sign of darkness.
The black mist swerved past buildings and plunged straight toward Number 4, Privet Drive.
For the three Dursley Muggles, today marked their end. The Death Eaters didn't even need to restrain them. Simply standing there was enough to terrify the Dursleys into cowering like frightened chickens—albeit two rather plump ones.
"For now, stay here. I must return to Hogwarts for school. Do as you please with those three. Over the years, the owner of this body suffered endless abuse at their hands. When I return, I do not wish to see them still alive."
The handsome Harry Potter placed numerous enchantments on the house. The twelve Death Eaters here were his current power base—too valuable to risk. Protecting them was protecting his own future.
Anti-Muggle Charm. Anti-Wizard Charm. Fidelius Charm.
After layering these protections, he set himself as Secret Keeper and departed.
Behind him, the three Muggles screamed in agony as the Death Eaters tormented them with the Cruciatus Curse.
"Fifteen years of hatred avenged in a single night! What a beautiful moonlight this is."
Grinning widely, the handsome Harry Potter laughed into the night sky. Today was a day worth remembering.
His ability to leave Hogwarts stemmed from several maneuvers: freeing the remaining Death Eaters from Azkaban, subduing the Dementors who guarded the prison, abducting Ollivander and looting his shop. All of this had been made possible with Dolores Umbridge's assistance.
Tonight's plan succeeded because from the very beginning, Umbridge had allowed the handsome Harry Potter to use the Floo Network. She had connected her own home fireplace to the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, enabling him to leave directly from there.
As Senior Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic and later Headmistress of Hogwarts, Umbridge's arrangement caused no suspicion.
And as for the portraits in the office—well!
Her very first order as Headmistress had been to command Filch to remove every portrait, including those of all former headmasters.
Those portraits would have hindered her actions, and Harry's as well.
Once the portraits were gone, Harry was summoned to the office for a night of "labor service." This ensured no one would question his absence, granting the handsome Harry Potter freedom to act.
To reinforce the ruse, Harry deliberately carved words onto his own arm, showing his classmates that he was being punished. With such evidence, no one would question him, no matter how long it lasted.
No one except Regulus Black.
As Sirius Black's younger brother and the godson's schoolmate, Regulus naturally paid attention.
"Harry! Did that toad summon you for punishment last night?"
The next morning, during the break after breakfast, Regulus stopped Harry, who was hurrying along.
In his hand was that day's Daily Prophet. The front page bore the shocking headline of Azkaban's destruction.
The Ministry, of course, denied everything, including the mass disappearance of Dementors.
"Due to inexplicable causes, Azkaban's Dementors rioted, attacked the stationed Aurors, devoured the prisoners, and then vanished without a trace. I suspect this is the work of some wizard, a provocation against the Ministry. Whether it was for magical experimentation or some evil scheme, hear me now: you will not succeed. The Auror Office will pursue this to the end and drag you back to Azkaban."
The Minister of Magic's condemning glare into the camera conveyed only weakness, nothing but bluster.
"Yes, Regulus. But I'm fine."
The handsome Harry Potter pretended to hide the markings on his arm, though he seemed to "accidentally" reveal part of them.
Regulus glanced at it, then gave him an encouraging look.
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