Chapter 43: Illusion
"Now then, let's try the Imperius Curse. But it seems that people with a strong will can resist this spell with just their will alone. I wonder what the effect will be."
"Imperio."
A faint light flashed at the tip of his wand, then disappeared into the diadem.
No black mist appeared, no liquid seeped out. The soul hidden within the Horcrux was unmoved. This spell, which had no tormenting properties, was simply a matter of forcing one's will upon another, compelling them to do what the caster wanted.
"The power of the Imperius Curse depends on the caster's magical power," Dumbledore said softly from the side. He also had an understanding of the Unforgivable Curses, though he rarely used them himself. With his own magical strength, he hardly needed these three spells.
"Tom was one of the most talented people in magic I have ever met. In the field of Dark Arts, as well as in magical power, he possessed skills that surpassed ordinary wizards. Even if it is just a fragment of his soul in the Horcrux, the magical power it possesses is not small. A wizard's magical power grows with time, and this growth continues until the age of seventeen, which is why the wizarding world considers seventeen to be the age of majority."
"So you're saying my current magical power is too weak?"
"It's actually very excellent already," Dumbledore shook his head. "Even the Cruciatus Curse cannot be used without sufficient magical power. The biggest difference between the Unforgivable Curses and other spells is that they are derived from advanced curse magic. They are more primitive than standard spells, so they are more powerful in terms of strength, but at the same time, they have a higher demand on the wizard's magical power."
"But I don't feel like my magic is being consumed at a great rate," Ezio said, actually quite puzzled. Although this world had magic, he didn't seem to feel the existence of a 'mana bar'. Even with high-intensity magic practice, he had never encountered a situation where he couldn't cast a spell due to a lack of magic.
"Because magic is constantly flowing into your body every minute and every second, restoring the consumed part. But if your magical capacity is insufficient, some spells will be difficult to use to their full effect," Dumbledore explained to Ezio. "The concentration of magic varies in different parts of the world. Places where wizards and magical creatures gather are often areas with a high concentration of magic. Hogwarts is especially so. That's why you don't feel your magic being consumed in the school."
"So you mean, only when I go to those areas with scarce magic will a wizard's spellcasting be restricted, right?"
"But there aren't many such places. Magic exists in every corner of the world. There is no place where there is absolutely no magic. Only large-scale alchemical arrays and equipment are affected by the concentration of ambient magic. A wizard wouldn't notice much of a difference."
"I understand," Ezio nodded. The magic in this world probably had a low consumption rate, and wizards' natural regeneration rate was very high. Only alchemical products were limited by magic.
"Then would you like to give it a try, Professor Dumbledore? Perhaps with your powerful magic, you can extract some clues from this Horcrux. No one knows the hiding places of the Horcruxes better than Voldemort himself."
"I think that would be a very difficult thing to do," Dumbledore shook his head slightly. He was not a simple wizard who couldn't use the Imperius Curse. In fact, he was more proficient in these spells than most wizards. "The Horcruxes are Voldemort's most closely guarded secret. Immortality is his strongest emotion. And the Imperius Curse is a spell that can be resisted by willpower. I can surpass Tom's soul fragment in magical power, but that doesn't mean I can suppress his will and make him tell me his greatest secret."
"But it's not impossible to try."
Perhaps something had occurred to him. Dumbledore ultimately chose to draw his wand. The color of his wand was somewhat similar to the elder-and-phoenix-feather one in Ezio's hand: multi-jointed, dark gray, but it had a layer of glaze-like patina.
Unlike Ezio's calm casting, the moment Dumbledore tapped with his wand, a wisp of black mist symbolizing Voldemort's soul seeped out and trembled continuously. The powerful magic from this White Lord instantly suppressed him completely. The Imperius Curse was seizing control of this soul fragment, forcing it to reveal the deepest secret it was trying to keep.
But just as Dumbledore had said, the Imperius Curse was a spell that could be resisted by willpower. You could say Voldemort was narrow-minded, a village-level terrorist, a madman with a screw loose, but you couldn't say he was weak, that he had no dreams or ambitions. His talent in the Dark Arts was definitely world-class.
The curse he had placed on the Horcrux ring when he was fifteen or sixteen, which had severely injured Dumbledore in the original story and could only be temporarily controlled by Snape's potions, was a testament to his prodigious talent in the Dark Arts. At least in curse magic, Ezio didn't think he could do better than Voldemort.
And as someone who had decided to pursue immortality shortly after entering the magical world, who had made immortality his lifelong dream, his will in this regard was not to be doubted.
Dumbledore shook his head slightly, his expression calm. He was not surprised by this result.
"It seems we can only proceed with the final test." Since they couldn't obtain the required information from the Horcrux, destroying it was the final step.
Seeing Ezio prepare to test the final Killing Curse, Dumbledore's expression became much more serious. He had some thought of stopping Ezio from completing the final test. His premonition told him that this was not a good thing.
The killing intent and indifference to life that Ezio had shown before had moved him. It was a purity he had never seen before. This purity transformed the killing intent that should have been classified as 'evil' into a... a strange feeling that did not arouse the slightest disgust, but at the same time, made one absolutely not want to approach. It was like a holy sacrificial ritual, where warm blood was offered up in a flawless white light, filled with a strange sanctity.
He had never felt this very strange and contradictory feeling from any person or any creature before. Perhaps, as Ezio had said, it was something he was born with. He was born with a mastery of the awesome power of death.
This curiosity made Dumbledore give up on dissuading him. He stood quietly to the side, waiting for Ezio's action.
"Avada..." Ezio's lips moved slightly, but he didn't complete the incantation. This was not due to hesitation, but because he had a special feeling the first time he used the Killing Curse, a feeling of familiarity. It was as if this spell was an extension of his own limbs. Just as Harry had specialized in Expelliarmus, Ezio had also maxed out his specialization in the Killing Curse.
A green light coalesced at the tip of his wand. The formless, quality-less light now underwent a change. A dark green crystal appeared at the tip of the wand. It was the form a spell would take when it was solidified. Like living scales, the thin green crystals rapidly enveloped the wand made of elder wood and phoenix feather. The magic of death was seeping in. It seemed to have smelled something that fascinated it, greedily demanding something.
This was the first time Ezio had encountered such a situation, but his intuition told him that this magic, which heralded death, would not cause him any harm. It was like a puppy attached to its master, acting cute and trying to beg for a delicious treat.
"So that's what you want."
Ezio suddenly smiled. He knew that many spells required emotion as a driving energy, such as the Patronus Charm. And the Killing Curse likewise required a firm will to kill something, and—a desire for slaughter that came from within.
"Since you want it, then you can have it."
In that instant, the hairs on Dumbledore's neck stood on end. But he only had time to raise his hand. Before he could speak, a phantom rising from Ezio filled his entire vision.
Beneath his feet was crimson blood. The thick blood flowed slowly like a river. The cold warmth submerged his ankles, enveloped his calves, and climbed up his body! The cold of death and the warmth of life intertwined at this moment!
He looked up. Countless pure, flawless white skeletons formed a majestic pyramid. Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of corpses were piled up to form a breathtaking spectacle! The pure death, both amazing and terrifying, seemed to mesmerize one's eyes, luring one's soul out of its shell, to soar and leap towards that high place, to the highest! The highest of the high!
At the top of the steps paved with white bones, a grim throne stood at the apex. A figure with an indistinct face sat on the throne, indifferent. In the sky that served as a backdrop, countless souls of the dead rolled and entwined, weaving together to form a boundless land that extended infinitely above the sky.
A spot of green light lit up. The figure on the bone throne raised his right hand. A dark green branch, as if it were alive, trembled with excitement, it shrieked with exhilaration. When its green light extended into the sky, the souls of the dead surged in at this moment. Those pairs of eyes, some confused, some resentful, some unwilling, some numb, were cast towards the figure on the throne. And the only response they received was a pair of empty, indifferent eyes. He had never paid them any mind, not even for a fleeting moment.
The living green light cheered and leaped, then, not knowing what satiation was, it endlessly devoured the souls of the dead that had formed the celestial continent—until the sky revealed its azure background, scattering down a pure, flawless white light. The holy brilliance illuminated the boundless river of blood that seemed to have no end, dyeing the spectacle forged from white bones with a pure, sacred crimson.
Dumbledore stumbled back a few steps, his back hitting a high cabinet. The momentary phantom disappeared in a flash. If that scene hadn't been so real and shocking, perhaps he would have thought he was having a waking nightmare.
"What's wrong, Professor Dumbledore?" Ezio asked, looking at Dumbledore strangely.
"Nothing..." Dumbledore shook his head, coming back to his senses. "It's just that I'm old and a bit unsteady on my feet."
"You will surely live for several hundred years," Ezio smiled slightly. Even without the Philosopher's Stone, wizards could live for a very long time using other means. The previous headmaster of Hogwarts, Armando Dippet, had been headmaster in his 200s. In comparison, the hundred-something-year-old Dumbledore was still very young.
There was no blinding green light. Ezio, his wand now imbued with a deep, dark green, gently tapped the diadem of Ravenclaw with its tip. A black mist exploded in an instant. A human figure of Voldemort coalesced and rose from the smoke, then dissolved into countless shattered fragments, disappearing completely.
There were no wails or screams. His soul fragment died silently.
*****
Hey guys,
If you're eager to know what happens next, you can now read up to 20 chapters ahead over on my Patreon.
I've also posted some chapters for free, so feel free to check them out as a little sneak peek!
Patreon.com/CanonTwist
P.S. psst... Don't forget about the Power Stones.