Wyzett descended the staircase, the fog on his mental map gradually lifting with each step.
A faint clank echoed through the chamber as an iron gate in the distance creaked open, revealing a vast, empty room beyond.
It looked like a storeroom—though clearly well-maintained, for there was barely a trace of dust, only a few small spiderwebs clinging to the corners.
Shelves lined every wall, each stacked with enormous barrels. The place was so large, it would take at least two classrooms combined to match its size.
Around the shelves stood rows of armored mannequins, their surfaces battered and pitted—evidence of magical experiments gone awry.
Books lay scattered across the floor in untidy piles. Picking one up, Wyzett felt a jolt of strangeness—almost as if he were touching a living being, not a book.
There was no warmth, no pulse, yet a peculiar sensation crept over him. In the back of his mind, a faint buzzing began, like the books themselves were murmuring secrets in his ear.
He activated his Oculus Magicae, scanning the scattered volumes. Every book radiated some kind of magic, but for reasons he couldn't explain, he saw only blurry, indistinct shapes—nothing resembling a magical circuit.
Puzzled, Wyzett tossed a book forward and used a Levitation Charm to flip it open. The pages were utterly blank—just like a brand-new notebook.
"Are they all like this?"
He frowned, then flicked his wand sharply. Instantly, every book in the room sprang into the air, fluttering around him like startled birds.
Maintaining his magical sight, he inspected book after book—until, finally, he caught a glimpse of a single page wedged between volumes.
Through the Oculus Magicae, he saw that this page brimmed with Ancient Magic, glowing with a familiar silver-blue light.
With a wave, he separated out the page and sent the empty books back to a corner.
This lone sheet felt different—none of the eerie sensation from before. It was made from some kind of serpent scale, its front emblazoned with a stark white skull, rendered so vividly it seemed to grin.
In the lower right corner was a signature he knew well: Selena Pendragon. The whole thing radiated a strange, ritualistic gravity.
Beneath the skull, a note read: "Simple and easy to learn—master the Imperius Curse with ease."
The Imperius Curse—one of the three Unforgivable Curses.
The Ministry of Magic labeled it "an extremely cruel Dark Art." By law, anyone who cast an Unforgivable Curse on another would be sentenced to life in Azkaban.
But the Imperius Curse was notoriously subtle. During the height of Voldemort's power, many witches and wizards claimed they'd been controlled by him—excusing their actions as not their own.
Whether for its secrecy or its fearsome reputation, Wyzett's curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know how the Imperius Curse truly worked.
From what he knew of Dark Magic, the more powerful the spell, the more magical knowledge was required to master it. Yet Selena Pendragon had begun her note with "simple and easy to learn," which only made him more intrigued.
Turning the page, he read the rest of her message:
"To cast an Unforgivable Curse, the caster must possess absolute resolve—this is the most crucial point!
"If you hesitate or show mercy, the results could be dangerous. At best, the curse will simply fail; at worst, it might rebound on you.
"Of course, I've never personally been backfired on by an Unforgivable Curse, so I can't say what that feels like…
"All right, now for the instructions. First, memorize the incantation—Imperio.
"Next, wave your wand however you like, find a living target, and say the spell… Congratulations, you've learned the Imperius Curse!"
The casting process was shockingly simple.
No need for precise syllables or intonation. No required wand movements.
The only real key was this: you must not hesitate. To cast the Imperius Curse, you needed unwavering determination.
"Maybe that's why they're called 'Unforgivable Curses'? Compared to the intricate, difficult Dark Arts, the Imperius Curse is almost crude in its simplicity."
"Im…perio…Imperio…Imperio!" Wyzett repeated the incantation, committing it to memory as he read Selena's instructions.
He glanced around, eyes landing on a spiderweb in the corner. That would do for a test subject.
"Imperio!"
He raised his wand and pointed at the spider dangling from the web.
A strange sensation sparked at the tip of his wand, racing down the wood, through his fingers, palm, and arm—finally pooling as a tingling warmth in his mind.
A thought surfaced: he could control this spider.
He gave his wand a gentle flick, tracing a perfect circle in the air.
The spider's movements grew stiff, puppet-like. It crawled back along the silk, spinning a flawless circle in the web—matching the wand's path exactly.
Releasing the Imperius Curse, Wyzett watched the now-panicked spider and frowned.
He truly hadn't expected it to be so easy. To cast the Imperius Curse, all you needed was a simple incantation and the will to dominate.
Compared to the Dark Magic he'd mastered last year, this was something else entirely.
If he had to compare, it was like the difference between a boxer and a gunman: a boxer hones their skills and strength over years of training, but a gunman just needs to pull the trigger—and with enough bullets, can take down even the best fighter.
They weren't even on the same level.
Still, from this attempt, Wyzett gleaned a few new insights.
First, the curse itself: with just the word "Imperio," you could seize control of another's soul. The process was almost absurdly simple, requiring no understanding of the soul at all—just the ability to say the spell.
Second, the casting: the Imperius Curse gave the caster enormous flexibility, allowing for incredibly precise commands.
If he wanted, Wyzett could make the spider "move half a millimeter to the left"—and it would obey.
The whole process was uncanny—like he'd become the spider's soul, issuing orders directly to its body…
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