Chapter 114 "The Ripple From The Past"

Knockturn Alley bore a worn and desolate facade, its interior cloaked in a thick layer of dust, suggesting long years of abandonment.

Underneath the seemingly vacant shop lay an obscure secret room, unbeknownst to any casual observer. The confines of the basement secret room were quite cramped; a mere ten people would render it as congested as a can of sardines. In the absence of any light, darkness pervaded the underground chamber.

Amid the obscurity, an elderly figure sat at the room's center, his appearance unmistakably aged. His skin resembled weathered deadwood, etched with profound wrinkles and lines. The old man appeared in a state of repose, his eyes shut, and his breath so shallow it verged on imperceptibility.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and the secret room illuminated, as if his gaze alone could dispel the darkness. His scarlet-red eyes glowed ominously, lending a somewhat eerie quality. The vertical pupils mirrored those of a cold-blooded reptile, exuding an air of otherworldly intensity.

As the old man contemplated movement, a force swiftly intervened. At this very moment, anyone present would observe eight snake-shaped chains of diverse hues binding the old man's body. Emitting an unseen power, these chains came to life upon the slightest movement, hissing and writhing like living serpents, trapping the old man more tightly.

One of the snake heads spoke, its voice carrying a sinister tone, "Ancient one, after all these years, you should abandon any futile attempts to break free from my seal. You know it's an impossible endeavor."

The old man retorted with a cold snort, his voice resonating with vigor that contradicted his aged appearance, "You treacherous, rebellious scion! Were it not for the injury inflicted by Andros' patron saint curse, I would not have endured your insolence. You dared imprison even your own ancestors – you will meet your end for this betrayal!"

With a bitter edge, he added, "Your talents and bloodline are mine. You've betrayed your ancestry and kin; death is an inevitability for you!"

The Snake emitted a grotesque, anthropomorphic "hahaha" that echoed in a prolonged fashion. Devouring the snake-shaped letter, its eyes gleamed with a striking aquamarine light. "I'm already beyond the grasp of death! Not everyone fears it as you do. The sole reason I tethered my soul to this realm is to activate the 'Eight Snake Seal Array,' a ritual demanding life and soul at its cost. Otherwise, what do you take me for—"

The serpent's voice abruptly turned icy, "Do you believe I enjoy lingering here with you?" Swaying its snake head from side to side, a tinge of melancholy appeared in its eyes. "My friends, my companions, they've already departed, embarking on new adventures in the realm of the dead, leaving me stranded in this sorrowful world... And it has nothing to do with you!"

The old man scoffed disdainfully, "Your worthless associates—hardly worth mentioning. Noble and pure-blooded, yet willingly entangled with Muggles. Associating with them is an insult to your lineage. Pity for your blood!"

Softening his tone, the old man continued, "Listen, Salazar, they are undeserving of you. Leaving them behind is their loss. Godric is obsessed with Muggle swordsmanship despite being a wizard; Helga is gifted with financial and pyrokinetic prowess, squandering it on cooking with fire."

"Rowena, she showed promise. I held high hopes for her, only to find her entangled with the Albanian raven family. A failure in inheriting the eagles, and aligning a goshawk with her is inconceivable. Birds of prey don't mix like that; it's absurd!"

"Salazar, trust me, you've done nothing wrong. Once you unlock this cursed seal, we can fulfill the dream of pure-blood supremacy together! I retain some influence beyond these confines, you know. I can still find my way to sway the Walpurgis..."

The colossal Snake erupted into hearty laughter, causing its snake head to sway even more vigorously. If snakes possessed tear ducts, they might have shed tears at that moment.

"Come now, old man, relying on your inferior pure-blood families," Orochi sneered disdainfully. "I'm aware that your headquarters, the Nightshade Mystic Market, was recently pilfered..."

The serpent's voice abruptly turned frigid, a glint of icy resolve in its eyes. "I'm not dead; you don't need to attempt to deceive me. I erred once, lost my family, my friends, and all ties. This time, I won't repeat those mistakes. Just endure the apocalypse with me here!"

"Ignorant fool! The Market itself, let alone the pure-blooded families in Great Britain, is a mere fraction of the Walpurgis iceberg." The old man's mouth curled into a sneer. "I've buried power in other countries. How could you possibly know everything? Also, do you wonder why I stirred just now?"

Orochi's pupils contracted slightly.

The old man continued, "That's because an entirely new power has suddenly manifested between heaven and earth. I fear another remarkable wizard is emerging in this world! The intensity of that induction today is extraordinary... It's not ordinary. Has someone truly succeeded in reviving the ancestral bloodline? Who the hell is it? I'm quite curious."

A complex expression flickered in the eyes of the colossal Snake. Although transformed into a snake-like soul, disconnected from the sense of heaven and earth, it recognized that the old man should not be lying about this matter.

After all, the old man hadn't stirred for nearly 50 years. Without an external reason, the sudden exchange today would be peculiar.

Orochi sighed anthropomorphically, as if musing to himself, "I can't believe there are people in this world who can trace their ancestry back. The last time was 50 years ago, and that person only possessed less than 10% of the bloodline power, yet it wreaked havoc on the world. This time, I don't know if it's for better or worse..."

"That's it; I can't do anything anyway. The future of wizards—let the living wizards handle it!" Salazar replied with a bittersweet tone as he realized this was not his age anymore.

——————

Hogwarts, Slytherin dormitory, housed a lavishly furnished bedroom.

A strikingly handsome teenager stood with an air of unwavering poise, his gray pupils devoid of focus. He resembled a doll, bereft of soul and frozen in place.

An odd occurrence unfolded in this enclosed room with its four walls—the gentlest of breezes wafted through, lifting the boy's lightly golden, neatly combed short hair.

Suddenly, the young boy's eyes regained their focus, yet the expression was far from what one would expect from a boy his age.

Perseverance, indifference, mercilessness, and unyielding tenacity filled his gaze.

"Has someone taken that step again?" he murmured.

"Fascinating, truly fascinating. The world is forever rife with surprises..." He scrutinized his hands, turning his palms up and down, and then examined his reflection in the mirror. "He looks like a mere human, yet a touch too frail and delicate—"

His gaze shifted to the ceiling, eyes filled with depth, as if not fixed on the roof but on the boundless void beyond.

"Aquila flickers... Sirius dims... Draco shines—this is intriguing..."

"Have you killed those dear to you? Truly... I am not lonely... Hehehehe..."

"Your soul, it intrigues me greatly!" With these words, he eerily licked his lips, and then his eyes gradually emptied...slowly emptied...

Finally, the entire figure collapsed onto the bed.

——————

West London, Humbledon Village, Shafiq House.

In this moment, Shafiq's aged residence no longer resembles the dilapidated villa of yesteryear. Instead, it has transformed into a glorious, pure white jade palace.

Though only two stories tall, each wooden pillar and every wall boasts intricate detailing and sculptures, exuding an extraordinary style.

A black carriage glided to a halt, and two women entered the villa, proceeding directly to the back garden. A black-haired girl with shoulder-length locks reclined on a mink leather chair in the white marble pavilion nestled within this garden.

At first glance, she appeared to be around 14 years old, with red lips, a graceful demeanor, and a dignified presence. However, her mismatched eyes conveyed an ageless wisdom, as if capable of piercing through the veil of reality.

The pupils of her eyes held distinct colors—turquoise in the left eye and sea blue in the right.

On all four sides of the pavilion, masked wizards in snug black attire stood guard. The robe collars and cuffs were adorned with embroidered red dragons. Wands held firmly in hand as they secured the pavilion.

The two arriving guests wasted no time. One, possessing a slender figure veiled lightly, sported a wizard's robe embroidered with the Selwyn family emblem—a powerhouse within today's wizarding world.

Even the senior deputy minister of the United States Ministry of Magic, Umbridge, sought alignment with this influential family. This guest was none other than the low-key Mrs. Selwyn.

The other displayed a curvy figure with an alluring gait and a captivating fragrance trailing her. Every movement she made exuded charm. If Skyler were present, he would easily recognize her as the universally acknowledged beauty of the wizarding world—Mrs. Shabini.

These two individuals stand as both formidable and affluent figures. Upon entering the pavilion, they adopt surprisingly modest and solemn postures, uttering, "Let us see your Lord.."

The girl, lounging on the bed chair, gazes lazily at the midnight sky, a smile playing on her lips. She remarks, "Look at my hair; it's transformed from brown to black, and my pupils have turned heterochromatic. How does it suit me?"

Mrs. Selwyn and Mrs. Shabini, cautious in their responses, hesitate in the momentary silence.

Observing them, the girl's lips lift slightly. "You don't have to be so reserved with me. I owe my return to your assistance."

Mrs. Shabini, breaking the silence, inquires, "My lord, have you truly 'returned'?"

The girl replies faintly, "Not entirely. The physical transformation has been relatively smooth, but the soul's merging progresses sluggishly. The willpower of my descendant proves stronger than anticipated. She resists vehemently, though with her fragile soul, resistance is futile. It's merely a matter of time."

Both Mrs. Shabini and Mrs. Selwyn express joy. "Congratulations, sir! We wish for your swift return."

The girl dismisses their congratulations with a wave. "Regrettably, time is not on our side."

Mrs. Selwyn inquires cautiously, "What do you mean, My Lord?"

After a brief contemplation, the girl responds, "I've been feeling restless lately, and an ominous sense of threat has emerged. I believe someone has taken that step again."

Mrs. Selwyn couldn't contain her surprise. She understood the gravity associated with the "that step" mentioned by the girl.

"Forgive my impertinence, my lord," Mrs. Selwyn asks with respect after regaining her composure. "Can you discern the identity of this individual?"

The girl shakes her head, remarking, "I'm not omniscient, but the identity of this person is inconsequential. What matters is that time is running out. I must expedite the merging of my soul to truly return."

Mrs. Shabini offers, "What can we do for you, my lord? Please enlighten us."

The girl smiles, expressing satisfaction. "My descendant's tenacity surpasses my expectations. A 14-year-old girl doesn't naturally possess such fortitude. I suspect there's an obsession in her heart. The consciousness born from this obsession has given her the resilience to confront me. I presume she has someone she cares for, doesn't she?"

Mrs. Shabini confirms, "Yes, according to my son's information, she shares a close bond with the young master of the Malfoy family at school, and their relationship is emotionally charged."

"I want my descendant to succumb to her confrontational mindset, and the quickest way—" The girl's eyes reveal a cruelty uncharacteristic of her age. "It's nothing more than to eliminate her obsession. Devise a plan to bring the Malfoy boy to me!"

——————

In the heart of Borneo's jungle in Southeast Asia lies a concealed cave, teeming with fantastical creatures—entities unseen in the wizarding world before. Among them are the Gorgon serpents entwined in its hair, the colossal centipede "Hundred Eyes" adorned with a hundred vigilant eyes, and the Naga—a female humanoid with six arms, a serpentine lower body, and a snake tail.

Within this eerie cavern, a wizard immerses himself in a blood-red pool, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of the peculiar creatures he has conjured.

"Hahaha..." he cackles maniacally, his eyes ablaze with madness. "Excellent... Godelot, you traitor, for stealing my wand, you merit death at the hands of your son... Gryffindor, that sword feud remains etched in my memory... Malfoy, you vile schemer, resorting to underhanded tactics... and Kleona, Morrigan... each one of you... I remember! I won't forget! The disgrace you've heaped upon me... centuries of seclusion..."

Rising from the blood pool, his robust frame bears the marks of numerous harrowing ordeals, evident in the shocking scars that mar his body. A monstrous arrogance emanates from him, and the grotesque creatures surrounding him sense the impending pressure, their shrieks and cries reverberating through the cave.

"You—Great Britain—Hogwarts—Greengrass—wait for me! I, Egbert Egbert, have returned!"