I arrived at Potter Manor with a calm, measured stride, my black cloak brushing the wet stones of the driveway. Rain fell steadily, and I held my black umbrella, but the storm outside was nothing compared to the storm I intended to unleash inside. Today, I was here to bend the Potters to my side—or claim the treasure that was rightfully mine. After all, as a direct descendant of the Potters, the Deathly Hallows were my birthright.
Inside, I found Fleamont Potter and Euphemia Potter. Young James had only just been born last year; today, I dealt with the parents. I smiled politely, though the warmth in my gaze was entirely a mask.
"So," I began, my voice calm, calculated, "what do you say? Will you join me?"
The two idiots stared at me, not with fear, but defiance. And then they attacked. Spells flew from their wands with precision and force. I didn't bother dodging—I simply deflected each one with ease, enjoying the challenge.
I cast Avada Kedavra, but Fleamont reacted instantly, transfiguring the floor tiles into a massive stone statue that absorbed the curse. Euphemia countered with a barrage of hexes, which I casually waved away. With a flick, I unleashed a lightning spell, coiling around Fleamont like a living serpent. He summoned a shield charm, crackling with energy, blocking my attack.
Stunning spells, lightning, and hexes collided around us, a whirlwind of magical power. Before I could finish Euphemia with Crucio, Fleamont rushed to shield his wife. I cast another Avada Kedavra, but one of their house-elves teleported in front, taking the deadly curse. Annoyance flared inside me—I had underestimated their preparedness.
It was time to escalate. I summoned Fiendfyre, shaping it into a massive, writhing snake that lunged toward them with deadly intent. They countered with water charms, extinguishing the fire before it could reach them. I had to admit—I was impressed. These two were among the strongest opponents I had faced in years.
But holding back was no longer an option. I transfigured the floor tiles into hundreds of spinning, razor-sharp tops and sent them flying at Fleamont and Euphemia. They tried to raise barriers, but some of the shards pierced through, impaling them slightly. I followed with an earth spear, stabbing Fleamont in the side. Pain flashed across his face.
Suddenly, every house-elf in the manor appeared, rushing to protect their masters. Their loyalty was admirable—but useless. With precise cutting spells, I slaughtered every single one, their screams echoing through the hallways as I moved with lethal efficiency.
Fleamont and Euphemia retreated, battered but alive. I could have pursued, but the chase was unnecessary. I had come for something else entirely. Walking through their home, I looted their vast family library, claiming every precious tome, every secret record. And finally, I took it—the Potter Invisibility Cloak.
It wasn't a complete loss, but the encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth. The Potters had power, cunning, and resilience—I could respect that. But more importantly, I now realized the war I had been preparing for wasn't far off. The Wizarding War was coming, and I needed to be ready. Every spell, every ally, every resource I had accumulated over the years would soon be tested.
As I left Potter Manor, the cloak tucked safely into my bag, I allowed a small, satisfied smile. Fleamont and Euphemia had survived this encounter, but the next time we met, the balance would be different. I would ensure it.