Hogwarts rises silently from the mist outside, its towers darkened but obedient. I Apparate into the depths of the castle, heading straight for the Chamber of Secrets — my personal sanctuary and now, my private research base.
The air smells faintly of damp stone, snake-slick and cool, but it is mine. I have transformed the Chamber into a haven of magical experimentation. Cauldrons bubble with iridescent brews, shelves sag under bottles of powders and liquids collected over decades, and artifacts glow softly in hidden alcoves. Every surface is cluttered with alchemical instruments, glass retorts, and transfigured tools.
In a separate room, I lay out the treasure trove I took from Nicolas Flamel: dragon's essence, phoenix feathers, crystallized unicorn tears, powders that shimmer with the essence of time itself. They are added to my already extensive collection of magical ingredients. The combined collection is almost obscene in its potential.
I've also established a library. Scrolls, tomes, and my own handwritten notes line the walls, chronicling centuries of dark magic, alchemy, and research. Though I possess eidetic memory, I have begun the habit of recording everything — an archive of my genius. It is meticulous work, the sort of thing I imagine giving to a worthy student one day, should the need ever arise… or perhaps to ensure my legacy endures long after I am gone.
I pour over a bubbling cauldron, adjusting a potion's heat and stirring with precision. Sparks leap, illuminating the faint grin on my lips. The alchemy notes from Flamel inspire new possibilities, some so bold they would drive lesser wizards mad.
This is more than a hobby. This is creation, evolution, mastery. And in the secrecy of the Chamber, I am unstoppable.