A legendary mage from another world, on the verge of ascending to godhood, is suddenly swept into the Harry Potter universe by a mysterious space-time vortex. There, he must face the imminent return of Voldemort, all while navigating the world of traditional wizardry led by Dumbledore.
For many, today was no ordinary day. The Empire's legendary mage, Augustus Adams, was poised to ascend into a mythical realm—the realm of the Archmage. Divine majesty, as vast as the heavens or the abyss, separated mortals from divinity. For the Empire, having an Archmage would mean reshaping the balance of power across the continent. Augustus's personal journey was intricately tied to the fate of the entire Empire.
A grand palace stood at the center of attention. Beyond its jade and marble walls, a dense crowd gathered, their faces etched with anticipation. Many among them were Augustus's students—his reputation as a legendary mage ensured his disciples were numerous. Alongside them stood the Empire's power brokers, who knew full well that Augustus's strength translated into the Empire's dominance, and hence, their own.
The sky was a flawless expanse of blue, with the sun's fiery rays streaming past the throng to illuminate the palace's depths. In its innermost chamber, a figure sat by the window, bathed in sunlight—a silhouette exuding mystery and power. It was none other than Augustus Adams. At this moment, he was in a peculiar state—like ice and water blending—one foot firmly planted in the divine, the other awaiting a celestial catalyst. All he could do was patiently wait.
Time trickled by. Outside, tension and worry buzzed among the crowd, but Augustus lounged in his chair with calm indifference, as though the unfolding events were no more pressing than an afternoon tea.
Suddenly, the tension broke. Many among the seasoned mages present instinctively looked skyward. Augustus, too, straightened in his seat, his calm demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness.
Above the palace, the clear sky dimmed abruptly. The air thickened, oscillating between freezing and scorching. Time itself seemed to pause. Behind the palace, directly above Augustus's chambers, twin beams of light—one crimson, the other icy white—spiraled in a frenetic dance. These beams symbolized Augustus's mastery over the dual legendary domains of fire and ice. His gaze fixed on the celestial phenomenon, his expression solemn. He knew the true test was about to begin.
As the lights spun faster, they coalesced into a red-and-white circle centered on Augustus. A pillar of energy surged downward, effortlessly piercing through the palace roof and enveloping him. Bathed in its radiance, Augustus closed his eyes to absorb the immense power coursing through him.
Outside, the crowd exhaled collectively, their faces lighting up with joy. Their hopes seemed fulfilled. Yet, as their elation spread, they failed to notice dark specks appearing around the glowing pillar. These specks moved actively, multiplying and coalescing into patches of darkness. When larger black masses emerged in the sky, murmurs of confusion rippled through the crowd. No one could identify the origin of these ominous intrusions.
Inside, Augustus had also noticed the dark specks. Despite his extensive knowledge, their nature eluded him, though his instincts screamed of danger. Before he could probe further, the darkness began merging into the pillar, spreading toward him. The dark energy seeped into his body, pulling his consciousness upward. As the gravitational force intensified, Augustus realized, to his alarm, that he could no longer control his own body.
Panic flickered in his eyes, though he quickly suppressed it. When all attempts to regain control failed, he resigned himself to the inevitable. The last of the dark energy entered his body, and a powerful force ripped his soul skyward. A black, intangible portal materialized in the sky. In the blink of an eye, Augustus's soul was swallowed into the void.
The portal closed, and the blazing energy in the sky faded. The light pillar dissipated, and tranquility returned to the palace grounds.
Earth. London, England.
Above a luxurious estate on the outskirts of London, a black void suddenly appeared in the sky, opening briefly before vanishing as swiftly as it had come. Moments later, the cries of a newborn echoed from within the estate.
Inside, a tall, golden-haired man with a gentle smile and handsome features paced anxiously near a room. Hearing the baby's cries, he rushed inside. A woman cradling the infant greeted him with a warm smile, and relief washed over him.
The woman, her long golden hair cascading over her shoulders, gazed lovingly at the baby. "Look at him—so beautiful," she said. "I bet he's inherited the best of both of us."
The man's smile softened. "Let's give him a name."
The woman looked intently at the baby and then declared, "Augustus. Augustus Julius."
At that moment, a strange glimmer flashed across the baby's silvery eyes, as though a distant memory had stirred.
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