Faced with the incoming spells from the prison guards, Orsaga raised his wand, which flashed with a soft glow.
"Finite Incantatem."
This was a spell unique to this world, specifically designed to dispel other magic.
As the incantation left his lips, countless ripples radiated outward from him, forming a domain that resembled a magic-nullification field—instantly engulfing everyone nearby.
All the spells launched at him vanished without a trace.
Witnessing this, the warden and the guards turned pale with shock.
"This… how is this possible?!"
Finite Incantatem—one of the most basic spells in existence.
They all knew it. They all could use it.
Its principle was to forcibly unravel an opponent's magic by breaking down its structure at the fundamental level. But it required intense focus and attention from the caster. It was not a fire-and-forget spell.
That meant the spell was typically limited to one-on-one use. Maintaining multiple counters simultaneously? Nearly impossible.
And yet, Orsaga had just cast it as a wide-area effect, neutralizing every single spell in its radius as if swatting away flies.
It wasn't just shocking—it was terrifying.
It was proof that the gap between them and this boy wasn't something that could be explained with words.
He could dismantle all of their magic casually, as if it were child's play.
At that moment, a swarm of Dementors swooped in from all directions, overwhelming the guards and the warden like eagles descending on defenseless chicks.
They began extracting the guards' emotional energy and transferring it to Orsaga.
Ten minutes later...
Without sparing a glance at the now-limp bodies strewn around the prison, Orsaga walked calmly out of Azkaban.
He had completely absorbed the emotional energy of everyone inside—transforming it into raw power.
At this point, his strength had reached a level comparable to what his true body possessed back when it was just a Lesser Demon.
Admittedly, that was still a far cry from his true body's current strength—where even a single glance could kill.
But for dealing with mere mortals? More than enough.
After all, even Lesser Demons are born at the top of the food chain.
Innate magical organs, pure magic, superhuman physique, immortality, regeneration, soul devouring, evolutionary growth, bloodline inheritance—
These were standard traits among abyssal demons, present from birth.
And depending on the evolutionary path they chose, additional abilities could be unlocked.
With advantages like that, how could mortals ever compete?
No wonder demons always had collaborators in every world.
Even a sliver of benefit from a demon was enough to let a mortal live in luxury for a lifetime.
---
Stepping out into the cold sea air outside Azkaban, Orsaga took one last glance at the icy waves around him.
With a thought, he and his army of Dementors vanished.
"Apparition."
A high-level spell in the Harry Potter world—equivalent to Blink + Teleport.
While it couldn't be used inside Azkaban due to magical interference, now that he was outside, nothing stopped him.
Originally, Orsaga didn't know this spell.
After all, the Basic Spell Compendium he bought didn't include advanced incantations like this.
But during his emotional feast inside Azkaban, he'd casually siphoned bits of memory and knowledge from his victims.
By now, he had absorbed virtually all known magic in the Harry Potter world.
Which, frankly, made everything a lot more convenient.
Sure, Orsaga already knew plenty of teleportation spells. But he had set a personal rule:
When inside the worlds governed by the Matrix Purgatory, only use the local magical system.
Otherwise, summoning a few bloodflame storms from across dimensions would instantly torch half the planet—killing both enemies and the fun.
---
Somewhere deep in a forest...
As Voldemort slowly emerged from the bubbling cauldron, Dumbledore calmly raised his wand and said:
"Tom. This ends today."
Having donned the robe passed to him by Quirrell, Voldemort straightened his hood and replied with a leisurely smirk:
"Dumbledore... you're too old. Isn't it about time you retired—to the grave?"
Thanks to the Philosopher's Stone, Voldemort's resurrection was complete.
He wasn't the bald alien-looking husk from the films. In fact, his intelligence had also returned—no more mad ravings.
He now looked like a sharp-featured, well-dressed middle-aged man with a calm demeanor and gentlemanly poise.
As he spoke, Voldemort took his wand from a follower. A glow of raw magical power flickered at its tip.
"You—"
Dumbledore began to reply.
But then, a surge of magic pulsed through the air.
A short figure, followed by a wave of Dementors, appeared on a nearby patch of land.
Seeing who it was, Dumbledore furrowed his brow, puzzled.
He instinctively advised:
"Mr. Orsaga, aren't you supposed to be in Azkaban? This is about to turn into a battlefield—you should leave immediately."
He recognized the Apparition user, but couldn't understand why Orsaga had come here.
Orsaga declined politely:
"No need. I came here on purpose."
Yesterday, a Death Eater had tried to infiltrate Azkaban to recruit the Dementors and free some of their allies.
There was no "after that."
The Death Eater was gone, and Orsaga had learned everything he needed.
So, here he was.
Voldemort, noticing the Dementors by Orsaga's side, raised an eyebrow.
"Little brat... and what exactly are you doing here?"
He could sense that the Dementors were connected to Orsaga, but he wasn't concerned.
Dementors were just magical creatures. Given the right methods, even they could be dealt with.
Besides, he was a bit curious how a kid like Orsaga could manage a group Apparition spell.
Even most adult wizards couldn't pull that off reliably—unless you didn't mind reappearing with half your body in another country.
Everyone present was wondering the same thing.
What was this kid doing here?
Under their expectant gaze, Orsaga answered calmly:
"I want to rule the world, so I came to recruit some staff."
The battlefield fell silent.
Then—
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
"BAHAHAHA!!"
Laughter erupted from both sides.
Even those who had been poised to fight seconds ago were doubled over with amusement.
A few collapsed completely from laughing too hard.
Voldemort, clutching his side, finally managed to suppress his chuckling.
Looking at Dumbledore, who was also cracking up, he said:
"This kid really has ambition! Even I only ever aimed to rule magical Britain."
Dumbledore's face twitched slightly as he inhaled deeply, struggling to regain composure.
He turned to the composed Orsaga and said:
"Mr. Orsaga... world domination is something you might understand better in a few more years. For now, perhaps Professor McGonagall can escort you—"
He signaled discreetly to McGonagall, who still hadn't wiped the smile off her face.
Orsaga scratched his head with a sigh.
"Guess I don't look very convincing in this body."
"Transfiguration."
One of the most casually overpowered spells in the Harry Potter universe.
Though considered beginner-level, its actual applications were absurd.
You could turn an apple into a cat. A pig into a dog. Even transform raw dirt into controllable puppet soldiers.
As the magic took effect, Orsaga's body rapidly matured.
Within seconds, he now appeared as a twenty-something adult.
While at it, he even changed outfits—now donning a sleek, pure-white three-piece suit.
Honestly, wizard fashion was awful.
They still dressed like it was the 1800s.
Seeing that made Orsaga shake his head in disapproval.
_____
T/N:
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