Harold's breath hitched.
His eyes darted around wildly as he took trembling steps backwards toward the boat, muttering incoherently, swaying like a madman.
His act of feigned insanity was only partly an act now—
The pressure of eyes he couldn't see, the unnatural weight of something shadowing his every step, was crushing his mind.
He had felt it since Azkaban.
A presence. Silent.
Watchful. Unblinking.
It had never spoken… until now.
A low, lilting laughter echoed from the rocks like wind through broken glass—
feminine, cruel, and delighted.
Then came the voice.
"Master Leo… your pet plaything has finally come to me. Shall I fulfil the promise you gave me? Let me break this toy before I send it to the trash."
Harold froze, his entire body locking up.
"____"
The voice was behind him—
No, beside him—
No, everywhere.
Leo, amused, gave a single low chuckle.
Chuckle~
"As you wish. Just make sure he lives long enough to realise his mistake."
At those words, the shadows moved.
They rippled, condensed, and began forming a shape.
Harold screamed.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!"
He shouted, firing a desperate curse into the darkness.
But the spell vanished before it reached anything.
The voice laughed again.
"How cute… it still thinks spells work on me."
Bellatrix leaned against a rock, eyes gleaming.
"Oh, this is better than front-row Quidditch."
Jenkins didn't speak.
Her eyes were focused on Leo's expression—
calm, collected, and merciless.
The shadow stepped into view now, a terrifying woman wearing clothes belonging to the church's nun with a haunting smile:
The one Leo had sent to Azkaban.
No one knew her name.
No one had ever survived long enough to ask it.
She bowed slightly to Leo.
"I will return shortly, Master."
It was none other than Valac.
Valac's smile widened—
not kind, but gleefully cruel.
"You heard that, little worm?"
She whispered as she began her approach.
"Let's see how long you can dance before you beg me to end it."
Harold turned, wand trembling in his hand.
"S-Stay back!"
He shouted, but Valac only laughed louder, savouring the hunt.
Harold's eyes widened in absolute horror as Valac began to reveal herself fully from the swirling shadow.
Her form shifted into that of a nun, a pristine white and black habit covering her figure, the subtle sound of rosary beads clinking at her side as she took graceful, deliberate steps forward.
But her eyes—
those glowing, serpentine eyes—
betrayed the monstrous power hiding beneath the pious disguise.
Harold stumbled backwards, shrieking,
"Church! It's the Church! They've allied with the Muggles! You… you're all traitors! You've betrayed the wizarding world! You've sided with those cursed priests and their crosses!"
He pointed an accusing finger at Leo and Minister Jenkins, foam nearly forming at the corners of his mouth.
His words caused a ripple of confusion.
Even Jenkins blinked, thrown momentarily off guard.
She turned slowly to Leo with a raised eyebrow.
Bellatrix and the rest looked equally puzzled, their expressions demanding an explanation.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Leo, completely unfazed, rolled his eyes and smirked.
Smirk~
"She's not with the Church."
He said dryly.
"That's just Valac. She… likes to cosplay."
A brief silence followed.
"____"
"____"
Then, one of the Aurors present let out a soft, nervous laugh.
Jenkins stared at Valac in a mixture of curiosity and dread.
Bellatrix tilted her head, then nodded with interest.
Nod~
"She's got style, I'll give her that."
Valac gave a slow, mock curtsey.
"What can I say? Old uniforms have a certain... charm."
The tension cracked slightly as Jenkins sighed, muttering under her breath,
"Only you, Leo… only you could weaponise a nun for psychological warfare."
Valac now turned back to Harold, her steps calm, but the sinister air never leaving her.
"Now that the introductions are done,"
She cooed sweetly,
"Shall we resume our little game?"
Harold's fury reached a boiling point as he screamed and raised his wand, spitting curses at the group before him—
hexes, jinxes, and lethal incantations fired blindly.
"I WON'T DIE HERE!"
He roared, trying to force his way past them and reach the edge of the anti-Apparition ward.
But the nun, or rather Valac, merely chuckled as the spells passed through her illusion.
Chuckle~
With a low, eerie laugh, she vanished in a swirl of black mist right where she stood.
Harold froze mid-run when he felt it—
a tap on his shoulder.
"____"
He spun around with a jolt of dread, his mouth wide in a silent scream, only to come face-to-face with Valac, barely inches from his face, her features twisted into a monstrous visage.
Her eyes burned with menace, her mouth open in a grin of bloody fangs, crimson blood dripping slowly down her chin.
She screeched—
RAAAAAA~
a banshee-like sound—
straight into his face.
Ahhhh~
Harold let out a terrified scream of his own, stumbling backwards and falling face-first into the mud, his robes soaked and caked.
He scrambled, wiping the filth from his eyes with trembling fingers, trying to locate her again—
But the space she had just stood in was now empty.
A brief moment of relief—
Tap.
Another touch to his shoulder.
Harold whirled and cast a Killing Curse, but all it met was a solid brick hurled at close range.
It smashed into his face with a sickening crack, shattering his nose and knocking him onto his back.
Blood poured from his mouth as he coughed violently, dazed.
The sound of laughter echoed around him—
childlike, mocking, twisted.
Then he felt it.
Movement. Inside.
His stomach.
Harold clutched his abdomen, face twisting in pain.
He yanked his robes up, and his eyes widened in absolute horror.
Something was slithering beneath his skin, pushing out in pulses from within.
He gasped, his breath turning shallow.
Panic overtook him.
His body convulsed.
He fell to his knees, trembling as the thing inside clawed its way out.
His mouth opened in a gurgling gasp—
Hiss.
A black serpent's head emerged from his throat, stretching wider and wider as the creature forced its way out.
Inch after horrifying inch, it slithered forth from his gaping mouth.
Its body grew longer and thicker, wrapping itself around Harold as it finally broke free.
Harold could only stare, paralysed, in a mix of agony and disbelief.
The snake turned.
Its eyes met his.
Then it lunged, biting down savagely on his eyes, ripping and tearing.
Harold's screams echoed into the night.
The group standing at the edge of the ward watched in silence.
The Next Morning —
The sun rose over Britain with a crisp chill in the air, but it wasn't the weather that had the wizarding world abuzz—
It was the front page of every major magical newspaper.
🗞️ The Daily Prophet
ESCAPED… THEN EXTINGUISHED!
Harold Mitchum dies 30 minutes after the Azkaban Breakout.
"Bitten by fate—or something worse?"
In an ironic twist that has left both Ministry officials and the public speechless, Harold Mitchum,
The controversial political figure and convicted traitor managed a miraculous escape from Azkaban only to meet his end within half an hour,
reportedly from a black mamba bite.
An absurdly rare creature in Britain, let alone on a prison island in the North Sea.
"Escaped prison, but not destiny,"
The article mockingly declares.
🗞️ The Quibbler
"THE SNAKE THAT LOVED JUSTICE!"
Black mamba avenges?
"Some say it was karma. Others say it was Leo Morningstar's shadow made flesh. Whatever it was… Mitchum died like a worm in the mud."
🗞️ The International Wizarding Times
"Tragic or Pathetic? Mitchum's Death Sparks Debate"
Wizarding communities from France to India weigh in on the bizarre demise of Britain's latest dark figure.
"One might call it fate. Others might call it Morningstar."
The magical public responded with a mixture of amusement, shock, and scepticism.
Conspiracy theories ran rampant.
Some believed the story; others whispered of Morningstar's and the ministry's unseen hand, especially after Voldemort remained mysteriously silent in his cell.
Back at Hogwarts, Leo simply folded his copy of the Prophet with a soft chuckle and said,
Chuckle~
"Fate has a twisted sense of humour."
Azkaban Prison...
A cold wind howled through the jagged, sea-battered stones of Azkaban.
Dementors glided silently across the shadows, but even they kept a respectful distance from Cell 9, where a single flickering torch barely lit the corners of the gloom.
Inside, seated against the wall with his knees pulled slightly up and his long, pale fingers gripping a crumpled piece of newspaper, was Voldemort.
His crimson eyes burned with contempt as he scanned the headline:
"HAROLD MITCHUM DEAD — ESCAPED ONLY TO DIE BY BLACK MAMBA BITE"
At the centre of the page, Harold's face stared out—
frozen mid-laugh, taken just as he had stepped off the boat, proud and unaware of the doom to come.
Voldemort stared at it for a moment…
then sneered.
"____"
Sneer~
With a swift, contemptuous flick of his wrist, he tossed the paper to the ground, where it was swept away by the damp breeze sneaking through the cracks.
"Fool,"
He hissed.
"Escaped only to die like a rat in mud... What a waste of opportunity."
He leaned back against the wall, his gaze drifting to the ceiling, red eyes gleaming with renewed malice.
"Let them watch their headlines… let them mock. When I leave this place, the world will not laugh. The world… will tremble."
Rumble~
As if in agreement, a distant rumble of thunder echoed outside, and the shadows in his cell seemed to deepen.
The cold grew sharper.
The wind is louder.
The time will come for his escape; until then, he will wait.
Eight Years Later —
Time flowed like a quiet stream beneath the surface of magical Britain, and in the span of eight years, much had evolved.
Mavis and Setsura returned home exactly one year after they had embarked on their world tour.
Their travels had taken them across ancient magical ruins, through dense forbidden jungles.
When they arrived back, their enchanted trunk overflowed with:
Rare magical trinkets, some older than modern magic itself.
Cursed relics (carefully bound in enchanted seals).
Colourful, bizarre plants that made Herbology professors at Hogwarts weep in joy.
And most notably, dozens of magical creatures, each representing a different magical creature family.
Mavis had not forgotten Leo's words when they arrived in this world —
about collecting one magical creature from every major magical species group.
And now, she had returned with living proof of her dedication.
In these eight years, Leo Morningstar's name had become legendary within Hogwarts' stone walls.
Once a curious and powerful addition to the faculty, he was now spoken of with reverence and admiration:
"The best DADA professor,"
students often said.
His methods, though unorthodox, were effective —
a mixture of real-life application, battle-tested knowledge, and empathetic discipline.
Students from all four Houses (and especially House Dragon) looked up to him, and his classes were never skipped —
not even by the laziest of students.
Even some Auror recruits admitted they learned more in Leo's classroom than during initial Ministry training.
Outside Hogwarts, Leo's entrepreneurial vision had taken root.
"Cauldron and Charm Apothecary",
once a quaint two-floor shop, had blossomed into a franchise empire across the magical world:
Branches now stood proudly in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Paris, New York, Tokyo, and even Uagadou.
It catered to all.
Known for its rare magical ingredients, unique potions, and a small section on magical pet bonding, it had built a loyal customer base.
Each branch bore a plaque:
"Inspired by Magic. Guided by Curiosity. Protected by Dragon."
Over the course of these eventful eight years, Leo Morningstar had not only built an empire and become a household name among wizards —
He also attracted strong, formidable women into his orbit, drawn not only by his strength and charisma but by his loyalty, vision, and mysterious past.
The once-reclusive potioneer and Severus Snape's mother, Eileen, eventually found herself pulled into Leo's world.
Whether it was through shared potion expertise, philosophical conversations over rare herbs, or something deeper and more personal,
she joined his harem.
Bella, over the period of time as a bodyguard she developed a respect and obsession with Leo.
She admired his vision and strength... and enjoyed that he didn't fear anything.
The alluring Andemora, whose cold aura once kept everyone away, had made her move quietly but decisively.
But through quiet nights, small glances, and the knowledge that Leo understood her pain without ever asking about it.
And then, there was Minerva.
For years, she had danced on the edge of propriety, affection, and responsibility.
But as time passed and their trust deepened, she gave in to the quiet love that had bloomed.
For the past year, she had been in a relationship with Leo —
an open secret among those close to them.
She never joined the harem dynamic publicly, but in private, her heart was already claimed —
And she claimed his in return.
Present...
In the present day, deep within the heart of his private workshop in the basement of Cauldron and Charm HQ, Leo stood before a long, rune-engraved obsidian table.
The room hummed softly with arcane energy, subtle alchemical symbols pulsing faintly on the walls.
Before him lay two alchemical creations —
still steaming slightly, suspended in crystalline containment pods marked with Andemora's personal sigil.
Andemora stood nearby, arms crossed, her expression calm —
But her eyes betrayed a flicker of anticipation.
She rarely sought praise, but this was different.
This wasn't just another artefact.
These were her masterpieces.
Leo leaned in, analysing the soft glow and ever-shifting liquid forms inside the containment units.
After several long seconds, his lips curled into a wide, approving grin.
Grin~
"Andemora... you've done it,"
He said, his voice rich with admiration.
"You've just created something that will revolutionise the magical community."
A faint glint of satisfaction flashed in Andemora's eyes.
"About time someone did,"
She replied coolly, but her fingers brushed the edge of the table —
a small gesture only Leo would recognise as pride.
❖ The Two Alchemical Creations
Aether Core Stabiliser
A small, silver orb with a swirling blue nucleus —
designed to stabilise volatile magical cores.
This invention would allow unstable wands, magical artefacts, and even creatures to maintain magical integrity under duress.
➤ Use Case: Prevents magical burnout in children with overwhelming magical surges, stabilises wild magical zones, and can even keep cursed artefacts from corrupting their wielders.
Elixir of Dual Essence
A rare and controversial brew —
translucent violet, shimmering with a golden undertone —
capable of allowing a wizard to temporarily merge with another magical creature's essence.
Not like Polyjuice or Animagus, but rather a complete sync: thoughts, reflexes, instincts.
➤ Use Case: In battle, it could let a wizard borrow the instincts of a werewolf, the vision of a phoenix, or the stealth of a shadow-creature.
Temporarily, of course… though Eileen hinted at longer-term applications.
Leo turned to her fully, his golden eyes glowing faintly with magical excitement.
"You've just turned theory into legacy, Andemora. The world won't know what hit them."
She allowed herself a rare smile.
"They never do."
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!! It will Motivate Me.