In the dim, decaying gloom of Knockturn Alley, Harry was forced back step by step by a group of ill-intentioned dark wizards, retreating deeper into the alley.
In the end, herded along by the crowd, Harry stopped in the most remote corner of Knockturn Alley.
It was a dead end. Both walls were covered in eerie moss that shimmered with a ghostly green under the weak light.
A sharp, rotten stench hung in the air, as if countless corpses were buried beneath the ground.
Perhaps convinced that the "lamb" in front of them had no way to escape, several dark wizards finally tore off their disguises and stopped bothering with restraint.
A hunched old wizard stepped forward first. His face was carved with deep grooves, every wrinkle hiding malice and greed.
"Hahaha… you soft-looking little brat, you came at the perfect time." As he spoke, he stretched out a hand so thin it looked like dry sticks, clawing at the air a few times as if Harry were already trapped in his palm. "I'm short an experimental subject. Once I squeeze every last bit of value out of you, I'll turn you into a pile of useless meat!"
He licked his cracked lips. In his cloudy eyes, a sick excitement flickered—like he couldn't wait to get his hands on Harry.
A middle-aged witch who still carried herself with a certain allure swayed forward, but her eyes were packed with cruelty and disgust. She glanced sideways at the old wizard and spat a threat through clenched teeth, "Ditt, you filthy bastard. Get lost while you still can. This kid is mine!"
As soon as she finished, her expression shifted. She stared hard at the handsome face Harry was wearing, greed surging in her eyes. The corner of her mouth lifted into a sharp, predatory smile as she crooned in a syrupy voice, "Come here, sweetheart. Come to me. I'll show you something you'll never forget."
The other dark wizards were clearly wary of both the old man and the witch, and none of them dared fight for "ownership."
One of them, a gaunt, pale-faced wizard, forced his courage up and spoke with a trembling voice, "W-we don't want anything else… just a few organs. Potions can grow them back anyway!"
Another, fat and thick-necked with a face full of brutish flesh, hurriedly echoed him, nodding and bowing. "Yes, yes, just a little. Any part of him will do."
Just like that, they casually discussed dividing up Harry's flesh and body right in front of him, as if he were nothing more than a sack of ingredients.
After a heated tug-of-war, the outcome gradually became clear.
In the end, the hunched old wizard—eyes dark and venomous—paid a hefty sum of Galleons to shut the others up, successfully claiming control over Harry.
The witch let out a quiet sigh, a hint of regret in her eyes, but she didn't argue further. She merely lifted a hand to smooth a few loose strands of hair beside her ear, lips curling into a meaningful smile.
In her view, as long as there was money, "fresh prey" like Harry would always show up again sooner or later.
So the old wizard advanced slowly toward Harry. He raised that wrinkled hand, veins bulging, reaching for Harry's arm.
His face twisted into a vicious, wicked grin. He opened his mouth slightly, revealing teeth blackened by smoke and broken in jagged gaps. His tongue dragged across his cracked lips, and he ground out, word by word:
"Alright, little thing. I paid a lot for you, so you'd better make me my money back."
The other dark wizards watched like cold spectators, faces indifferent.
To them, this was a hunt with no suspense.
If nothing unexpected happened, this kid who had wandered into the wrong place would, a few weeks or months later, be broken by the old man's inhuman torment—his life and spirit drained away—until he became a shapeless lump of ruined flesh, tossed into some unknown dark corner like garbage.
They didn't believe the boy had any chance to escape.
Unless he could, alone, defeat several vicious, hardened criminals right here.
But how was that possible?
How old was he? Unless his talent was even more terrifying than those three great wizards once crowned with the title of "Demon King," he had no hope of surviving.
And in the entire history of the wizarding world, how many monsters like that had ever existed?
So this kid was dead… dead… de—
Suddenly, a deafening sonic boom exploded right in front of them!
In the next instant, endless electricity surged in like a raging tide, swallowing their vision completely!
Blinding arcs of light snapped and leapt with a crackling barrage. The air filled with a sharp, scorched stench.
While everyone was dazzled and thrown into chaos, a projectile wrapped in tangible plasma—like a meteor tearing across the night—howled past them with overwhelming force!
Where it passed, the air compressed violently, forming a distorted shockwave.
It slammed into the stone wall with a heavy, muffled impact. Hard rock tore apart like paper, exploding into fragments that sprayed everywhere!
The projectile didn't even slow. It drove deeper and deeper, burrowing several meters into the ground before finally dispersing, leaving only a deep crater and a scene of wreckage.
Rattle-rattle-rattle…
Along with a skin-crawling patter, thick, fishy blood-water began to drip down—like beads on a snapped string—without warning.
Drops smacked onto the faces of the dark wizards, splattering across their cheeks.
Only when the warm liquid touched them did they snap out of it, realizing the impossible sight wasn't an illusion.
Their eyes bulged with terror and disbelief. Blood still clung to their faces, trickling down slowly and staining their black robes in dark red patches.
As they stared at Harry—still calm, still composed—one sentence echoed over and over in their minds:
Don't come any closer.
Harry stood quietly in place, electricity still crackling and flashing at his fingertips.
Just moments ago, the super electromagnetic railgun he had fired—utterly unstoppable—had ground away most of the old wizard's body in an instant.
Under that violent energy, the old man's flesh and bone shattered like a candle in the wind, leaving only incomplete scraps scattered around.
At some point, Harry had cast an Iron Armor Charm, forming a transparent shield beside him that sealed out the foul blood raining down from above.
Ahead, a deep gouge scarred the earth—the trace left by the railgun's passage. Soil and stone had been torn up into chaos.
Under Harry's control, that shot had only taken two lives: the old wizard, and one unlucky dark wizard caught in the line of fire.
The rest were still standing there, intact.
Because they were Harry's materials for testing magic.
With a calm expression, Harry slowly swept his gaze over the terrified faces in front of him. Then, unhurriedly, he raised a hand and lifted a gentleman's hat from seemingly nowhere, placing it on his head with elegant ease.
He patted his collar lightly. With a faint ripple of magic, his slightly messy clothes transformed in the blink of an eye—Transfiguration turning them into luxurious, extravagant gentleman's attire.
Only then did he smile and say, "I hate disgusting people touching me. You understand, right?"
"Y-you… what kind of Dark magic was that?!" One dark wizard pointed a shriveled finger at Harry, face drained with fear.
That spell's destructive power felt close to Fiendfyre—and its straight-line lethality was even worse. They'd never even heard of magic like this!
Harry glanced at the wizard pointing at him.
Without warning, a gold-and-red magic circle flashed into existence in midair—and in the next instant, the man's outstretched arm was cleanly severed.
Blood burst from the torn stump. The pain made him convulse violently, his throat tearing out a scream like a slaughtered pig.
Harry remained calm, saying flatly, "I don't like people pointing at me, either. So I cut off his arm. You can understand that too, right?"
The wailing in his ear was too noisy.
So Harry snapped his fingers.
The dark wizard's mouth sealed shut instantly, melting into the surrounding skin—smooth and flat, as if he had never had a mouth at all.
Harry frowned in annoyance. "So loud. If you can't control your mouth, then don't open it ever again."
In a blink, two dark wizards were dead beyond recognition, and one was grievously injured.
That crushing, one-sided terror made every remaining dark wizard freeze in raw panic.
Everything before their eyes shattered what they believed magic could be. They couldn't understand why a single young wizard could possess power like this.
Even Gellert Grindelwald—who once shook the wizarding world with storms and fame—probably hadn't been this horrifying at the same age.
The moment they realized something was terribly wrong, one of the dark wizards suddenly shouted, "He's alone! If we rush him together, he can't possibly win!"
In the very next second, every last one of them—including the alluring witch—turned and sprinted for the mouth of the alley, not a single person staying behind to confront Harry head-on.
Harry: "…"
Watching them flee a dozen meters, Harry calmly raised his wand.
A stone wall erupted at the alley entrance, climbing and spreading upward in an instant. In the blink of an eye, it sealed the alley completely—no gaps, no way out.
The dark wizards reacted fast, immediately casting Transfiguration at the wall, but it was reinforced by far stronger Transfiguration than theirs. They couldn't alter it at all.
Once they confirmed escape was impossible, the witch in front slowly turned back. A friendly smile hung on her face as she addressed Harry:
"Little brother… I don't have any hostility toward you. I only wanted you to play a fun little game with me. Why don't you let big sister go?"
As she spoke, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes shimmering as she tried to soften herself into a pitiful, harmless image.
The other dark wizards hurriedly begged as well. "My lord, we were just bewitched by greed for a moment—our heads got hot and we did something foolish. Please, you're so powerful and so generous—if you let us go, we'll compensate you with everything we have!"
When Harry still didn't react, they finally understood: this wasn't going to end peacefully.
The dark wizard who had shouted about rushing him gritted his teeth and said, "Where the hell did this little monster come from? He's a freak! He's so young, and he's already this terrifying. We have to kill him—only then do we have a chance to get out alive.
"And look—he hasn't fired that electric shot again. That means he probably can't use it continuously. If we attack together, maybe we still have a sliver of hope. Otherwise, we all die here!"
This time—unlike before—they actually raised their wands in unison and attacked Harry.
Then, together, they chanted:
"Avada Kedavra!"
Almost in the same instant, multiple beams of vivid green—like venomous snakes baring fangs—shot out from their wand tips!
They streaked through the air at high speed, colliding and merging, finally converging into a stronger, thicker green beam that roared straight toward Harry.
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