An Opportune Encounter

The journey to King Cross station took me around 5 hours. I left the cave well before dawn. It should be approaching 10:30 AM. I can already see the station in the distance.

Finally arriving from way above the station, I willed myself invisible so no magical could spot me. I descended to the station, phasing through whatever stood between me and finding Platform 9¾.

After following along the platforms, I found myself in front of the iconic pillar that leads to the Hogwarts Express, and I could already see people running into the pillar one by one to board the train.

Raising my hand, I approached the portal separating the 9th and 10th platforms, but a magical barrier sprung up, repelling me away...

'It seems they have protections against Ghosts/Wraiths on the barrier. How would Voldemort have entered Hogwarts if they had these protections at a mere station that would have led you to the supposed safest place in the world?'

He must've been strong enough to bypass them even as a soul-broken wraith.

I could also bypass these wards, but that would alert the ministry and give me a free ticket to my exorcism.

Deciding that staying here was a lost cause, I flew up and exited the station, phasing through the ceiling and blasting off towards Charing Cross Road after reading a few signposts to find the Leaky Cauldron.

The first thing I noticed was that this was definitely before Harry's time because the cars driving down the street looked ancient.

Flying through not-so-ancient London felt surreal. Comparing it to modern London would feel like another entire city, even though you could see the differences being technological advancement. But it had its own charm, I suppose.

Locating Charing Cross Road took me about 10 minutes to find, but I finally arrived. I focused my magic to detect where the old pub was. I felt my magic pulse around a building not too far away from where I was walking down the road. I found the old yet surprisingly clean building.

Entering it by phasing through the door without much stalling, I looked around the pub.

There were a few people sitting at the tables reading the Prophet while eating their late breakfasts, I would guess. Tom, the barman, was also there; the legend was standing behind the counter, cleaning a mug like the legendary immortal barman he is.

Chuckling at the memes that popped into my head surrounding the barman who was always there at the leaky, I moved on towards one of the wizards sitting at the tables to check on the date.

Looking over his shoulder, I read;

Ministry Ball Rings in the New Year with Enchantment and Revelry

By Barnabas Cuffe, The Prophet

As the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve 1969, the grand mansion of Minister for Magic Harold Minchum was transformed into a glittering ballroom, hosting a magnificent ball that would set the stage for a year of political intrigue and momentous change within the wizarding world.

The ball, attended by the most illustrious lords and ladies of the wizarding community, was a grand affair that showcased the Minister's impeccable taste and lavish hospitality. The ballroom was adorned with twinkling fairy lights and towering Christmas trees, creating an atmosphere of enchantment and festivity.

Among the distinguished guests were Lord and Lady Black, resplendent in their emerald-green robes, the venerable Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, the Malfoy family, the Yaxley family, the Nott family, the Fawley family, and even the lord Potter.

The Minister's speech was met with polite applause, but the atmosphere in the ballroom was thick with political tension. Rumors had been circulating for weeks about a growing rift between the Minister and certain members of the Wizengamot, the wizarding parliament.

As the evening progressed, the guests engaged in lively discussions about the political landscape. Some expressed support for the Minister, praising his leadership and his commitment to unity. Others, however, voiced their concerns about his recent policies, particularly his handling of the goblin rebellion.

Despite the political undercurrents, the ball continued in a spirit of revelry. The lords and ladies danced and feasted until the early hours of the morning, their hearts filled with the magic and enchantment of the evening.

As the ball drew to a close, Minister Minchum bid his guests farewell, expressing his gratitude for their presence and wishing them a safe journey home. The 1969 Ministry Ball will forever be remembered as a night of unparalleled elegance and the promise of a transformative year ahead for the wizarding world.

Looking away from the paper, I walked to the wall leading to Diagon Alley and phased through it, entering Diagon Alley proper.

1969... a year before Voldemort's campaign started...

Well, I had time to prepare, and as far as I know, old Tommy boy shouldn't have a grudge against me, so I won't be seeing his death eaters target me unless I make a nuisance of myself to him.

Walking down the streets of Diagon, giving the people walking next to me sudden shivers, I see Gringotts bank in the distance. I firmly decided that I should never step even one foot in there if I value my life.

I spent the next few hours just exploring the alley and looking through the shops for future reference. 

While also spooking a lot of people with my deathly presence because seeing them jump from a sudden chill up their spines was funny.

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While I was window shopping and losing track of time, I suddenly found myself in Knockturn Alley. I shrugged and continued looking around.

This place had a certain dark vibe to it, like a backstreet alley where you get robbed. Thanks to being a spectral being, I can turn totally invisible, so it isn't an issue for me.

As I was walking along the streets of the alley, I stumbled upon a fight between a relatively young man who was holding his own against 5 other wizards. 

I used [Spectral step] and appeared at the top of a building to watch the fight better.

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(general POV)

The air crackled with energy as Finley Selwyn faced off against his opponents in the dimly lit Knockturn Alley. As the five wizards circled him, their wands at the ready, Finley knew he had bitten off more than he could chew.

But he was not one to back down from a fight, especially when his life was on the line. The first wizard cast a stunning spell, but Finley was quick to counter with a shield charm, deflecting the spell with a flick of his wand. He retaliated with a blasting curse, sending the wizard flying backward into the wall.

But as he turned to face his next opponent, another wizard had already cast a binding spell, causing thick ropes to snake around Finley's body, restraining his movements. With a surge of determination, Finley focused all his energy on breaking free from the ropes. He channeled his magic, and with a powerful burst of force, the ropes snapped apart, freeing him from his constraints.

But he knew he had no time to celebrate his small victory as the wizards were closing in on him once again. He summoned a whirlwind of fire, sending it swirling towards his attackers, forcing them to scatter to avoid the flames. But even as he kept them at bay, Finley could feel his energy waning.

He had already expended much of his magical prowess, and the relentless onslaught of spells from his enemies was beginning to take its toll. As one of the wizards stepped forward, a glint of malice in his eyes, Finley knew he was in for a fight he might not win. The wizard unleashed a barrage of cutting curses, each one slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. Finley's reflexes were quick, but he could feel the sting of the curses as they grazed his skin, drawing blood in their wake. Desperation set in as Finley struggled to keep up with the onslaught.

He cast a defensive charm, but it was shattered by the combined force of the enemy's spells. The sheer power of their magic was overwhelming, and Finley found himself being pushed further and further back, his options growing limited with each passing moment. But Finley refused to give up even as the odds seemed stacked against him.

He conjured a shield of swirling energy, using all his remaining strength to hold it in place as the enemy wizards unleashed their most devastating spells upon him. The shield trembled under the force of the attacks, crackling with the strain of trying to contain the destructive magic. With a final surge of effort, Finley pushed back against the onslaught, the shield holding firm against the assault.

But just as he began to hope that he might survive the encounter, A Cruciatus Curse was cast and bypassed Finley's shield, twisting his body in agony, his screams echoing through the alley.

Then, a dark cutting curse sliced through the air, heading straight for his throat. With horror, Finley realized that he was unable to dodge the curse in his weakened state, and he braced himself for the impact. The curse struck with a sickening thud, slicing through Finley's skin with brutal efficiency. He stumbled back, clutching at his throat as blood gushed from the wound. The pain was excruciating, and Finley knew that he was in mortal danger.

As the enemy wizards turned to leave, confident in their victory, Finley collapsed to the ground, his vision swimming as he fought to stay conscious. As he lay there, struggling to hold onto his rapidly fading life, Finley realized that he had indeed bitten off more than he could chew. But even in the face of defeat, he refused to go down without a fight. With his last remaining strength, he called out for help, hoping against hope that someone would hear his desperate plea.

But as the shadows of Knockturn Alley closed in around him, Finley knew that his time was running out. His vision blurred by the blood gushing from his severed throat.

A faint glimmer of blue light appeared before him. A ghostly figure, its form shimmering and indistinct, emerged from the shadows and floated towards him.

The figure extended its hands, their touch as cold as ice. A disembodied whisper caressed Finley's ears, promising glories beyond his wildest dreams. The wraith spoke of making him the greatest wizard he could be, of unlocking his true potential.

Finley's mind was a maelstrom of doubt and desire. He had always longed for greatness, but at what cost? The wraith's words tempted him, but he knew that accepting its offer would come at a steep price.

With trembling hands, Finley reached out to the ghostly figure. As his fingers made contact, a surge of energy coursed through his body, both exhilarating and terrifying. The wraith's voice grew louder, more insistent.

"Let go, Finley Selwyn," the wraith whispered. "Let go and become something more."

Finley hesitated, his mind torn between his desire for greatness and his fear of the unknown. But as the wraith's grip tightened, his resistance crumbled. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the ghostly embrace.

The wraith's hands enveloped Finley's head, and a blinding light enveloped him. When the light faded,

Finley Selwyn was still there, but he was no longer the same. His eyes now glowed with an eerie blue fire, and his body radiated with a strange and powerful energy.

The wraith had not replaced Finley; it had merged with him, becoming one with the young wizard. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, a dark and twisted reflection of the greatness that Finley had always dreamed of.

"Yes," Finley whispered to himself, his voice now tinged with the wraith's icy chill. "Together, we will make me the greatest wizard the world has ever seen."

And with that, the possessed Finley Selwyn disappeared into the shadows, his laughter echoing through the night, a chilling harbinger of the darkness that was to come.

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