As the glow of the Transfiguration spell faded, Voldemort's face froze in shock.
A fully grown Norwegian Ridgeback dragon materialized out of nowhere, the platform it stood on forcibly reshaped and brought to life.
The dragon's back spines sliced through the scorched air, its black wings casting a massive shadow as they unfurled. A faint whiff of sulfur drifted from its white snout.
Voldemort's crimson pupils shrank to pinpoints.
"This is impossible…"
He'd seen advanced Transfiguration before, but this? Conjuring a magical creature?
The clash of magical circuits made it impossible for wizards to replicate the unique magical pathways of fantastic beasts, let alone transfigure one.
Wizards who dared dabble in this forbidden field either birthed warped monstrosities or turned themselves into monsters.
How could a kid pull off a Transfiguration teetering on the edge of taboo?
Lucien ran a hand over the dragon's scales, a glint of excitement in his eyes.
A system prompt chimed in his head, confirming his success.
To pay off Loki's faceless debt, he needed to master Transfiguration perfectly.
On top of learning every known technique, he had to break new ground.
His answer? Magical creature Transfiguration.
The biggest hurdle blocking wizards from this path was the magical circuit.
Repairing the little unicorn's circuit had been his first real step forward.
That first step showed him the way.
A year of study and practice had nurtured his talent, letting it sprout, take root, and finally bear fruit.
"Lucien, have you forgotten my teachings about circuit repulsion…?"
Voldemort's lips curled into a cold, mocking sneer.
Transfiguring a Norwegian Ridgeback?
All show, no substance.
No matter how lifelike, no Transfiguration could mimic the bloodline-born magical circuits.
But in the next instant, Voldemort's pupils shrank again.
The dragon opened its maw—not brewing ordinary flames, but swirling, living runes that coiled and fused together.
In a flash, a dark red dragon's breath, laced with shattered runes, erupted like molten lava, surging toward Voldemort.
The air was sucked dry. Wherever the breath passed, even Voldemort's protective spells started crumbling on their own.
"Lucien, uh, what should I do now?"
Harry, now at Lucien's side, his ropes burned away by golden light, piped up.
Watching the magical showdown between Lucien and Voldemort, Harry felt useless just standing there, so he figured he'd ask.
Lucien flicked his wand, casting a few Extension Charms to stretch the room tenfold, giving the transfigured dragon space to tangle with Voldemort.
Huh, this is like watching a beast fight. Kinda fun.
No wonder some folks aim to be pet-training masters.
Hearing Harry's question, Lucien glanced at him.
The kid just had some dirt from rolling on the ground, his glasses a bit crooked, but otherwise fine.
Tonight's experiment was pretty much done—Lucien had tested his magical limits and pulled off the creature Transfiguration.
"Alright, just stand still for now."
Harry straightened up instinctively as Lucien started waving his wand over him.
"Iron Skull Charm."
"Pain Begone."
"Protego."
"…"
"Dual-Point Pull."
With the final spell, a speck of light stuck to Harry's chest. Lucien flicked his wand again, and the other end of the light shot straight toward Voldemort.
On the other side, Voldemort had just spotted a flaw in the dragon's moves. It was a magical creature, sure, but a conjured one—its smarts weren't up to par. He was about to land a killing curse.
Then a glowing mark stuck to his chest.
"Harry, fly!"
With Lucien's soft incantation, Harry shot into the air!
Golden-red flames wrapped around him, warm and harmless.
Under Lucien's control, Harry struck a Superman pose, barreling straight at Voldemort.
The fiery glow trailed behind him like a cape, billowing in his wake.
Voldemort, baffled, moved to dodge the flying Harry instinctively.
He nearly avoided a fist to the face.
But just as he let out a breath, the mark on his chest flared bright.
Harry's flight path twisted weirdly, and with Lucien's guidance, he swung his body, landing a sweeping kick that sent Voldemort sprawling.
"Argh!"
Smoke rose from Voldemort's chest, his exposed skin blistering red.
Agony seared through his soul, so intense he couldn't fight back.
In the next moment, Harry slammed right into him.
A soft glow radiated from Harry, but to Voldemort, it was torture.
The fiery cape wrapped them both—Harry felt nothing, but Voldemort was hit with the pain of being burned in magma.
Struggling to raise his wand for a spell—
"Cruoris Sectum!"
A blood-red blade shot from Lucien's wand, slicing clean through Voldemort's hand.
Voldemort whipped his head toward Lucien, eyes blazing with fury.
"Using my magic against me?!"
Lucien met his gaze calmly. This was for Seleneia and the others.
Whoosh—
A cold, sinister gust swept through, briefly overpowering the room's heat.
Voldemort ignited Quirrell's soul with a curse, buying himself a sliver of escape.
A chilling black mist drifted out of Quirrell's head, shooting toward the ceiling.
Lucien made a token effort to block it, but without destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes, there was no keeping him here.
The mist, slightly thinned after breaking through the purifying flames, vanished into the stone wall.
Lucien walked toward Harry and Quirrell, the flames parting to make a path.
With a wave of his wand, he separated the two. Harry, probably knocked out from the soul clash with Voldemort, was out cold.
And Quirrell…
His breathing grew faint, his chest barely rising.
Yet his expression was dazed, his eyes unfocused.
Quirrell shifted his gaze to Lucien, lips trembling.
Under Voldemort's possession, he'd harbored dark thoughts and done dark deeds.
But now, with Voldemort's soul gone, Quirrell woke as if from a dream, realizing what he'd been through, what he'd chosen…
He opened his mouth, struggling to speak, but only managed one line:
"Talk about bad luck. Should've never gone to that forest."