In the quiet corridors of Hogwarts at the height of summer, the image of the young Voldemort suddenly became exceptionally blurry.
He wandered alone through the empty corridor, seemingly driven by some invisible force.
Suddenly, he burst into laughter, his voice carrying a trace of madness and delight.
Then, his body transformed into a mass of black mist that swiftly flew out through the windows and cracks of Hogwarts, soaring high into the sky.
Above Hogwarts, the black mist rapidly condensed—
The young Voldemort reappeared, seated upon a throne forged of bronze, pale flames burning atop it.
His gaze was focused and cold as he chanted a complex spell.
As he chanted, the space around Hogwarts began to undergo subtle changes. The three dimensions of matter, spirituality, and consciousness seemed to have been summoned, beginning to shake and tremble.
The tremors gradually intensified. The surrounding air, the ground, and even the distant lake seemed to ripple beneath the influence of this power.
In the end, those dimensions did not merely tremble. It was as if they were being crushed beneath an enormous invisible pressure, and signs of fracture began to appear. From Hogwarts to the surrounding landscape, everything seemed unbearably fragile before this unimaginable power.
The young Voldemort appeared exceptionally serene upon the Bronze Throne, as though he sat at the center of the world he controlled, as though he held the threads of fate in his hands.
The world around him trembled and wailed beneath his spell, yet it could not escape the control of this dark wizard.
"It has begun." With that soft murmur, Tierra, in the headmaster's office, suddenly vanished.
The teacup Tierra had been holding suddenly lost its support and fell from where he had just been sitting, shattering with a crisp sound.
Black tea splashed