*"This seems to be quite impressive."*
Voldemort didn't need any visible incantations to manipulate the spell. After a single transfiguration, he seamlessly executed a second transformation.
The transformed walls merged flawlessly, a clear testament to Voldemort's mastery over Transfiguration.
Dylan couldn't help but analyze Voldemort's practical skills, comparing their similarities and differences.
Surrounded by flames, Dylan conjured a shield of fire to protect himself from the endless swarm of black serpents. At the same time, he controlled bursts of fire to strike back at the snakes, observing the magical energy waves that rippled out with each attack.
Every spell had its own unique signature—like a magical "code" that held clues about its origin, casting method, and intensity.
This realization had dawned on Dylan only after mastering several high-level spells and carefully absorbing every professor's insights into magic and magical energy.
**Whoosh!**
A burst of flame surged forward, burning through a cluster of black serpents.
Standing on ground already corrupted by darkness, Dylan fought fiercely as fire clashed against shadowy serpents.
The more he felt the relentless charge of the serpents, the clearer it became just how profound Voldemort's understanding of Transfiguration was.
No wonder his transformations were so precise and elegant.
Dylan extended his magical senses toward the serpents' energy patterns, analyzing them as if dismantling a complex machine.
He noticed subtle traces of Voldemort's control hidden within the rhythm of the magical fluctuations.
For instance, when the serpents lunged at him with lightning speed, the magic pulses spiked in rapid, stable frequencies—evidence of Voldemort's precise command, allowing the serpents to unleash overwhelming power in an instant.
The intensity shifts in those fluctuations told him even more.
When the serpents met the fire's resistance, their magical energy peaked momentarily before fading.
This revealed Voldemort's ability to inject fresh power quickly into the serpents to maintain the assault while also adjusting flexibly to avoid wasting energy.
*"Watching a true master cast spells is so much faster than listening to professors drone on about theory."*
Dylan was thoroughly enjoying this duel against Voldemort.
Such real combat experience was rare for him.
—After all, no professor would ever spar with him seriously, much less try to kill him.
In his mind, Dylan kept reviewing every detail of the magic patterns, comparing them to how he had previously cast similar summoning spells.
He realized his magical flow lacked the smooth continuity Voldemort demonstrated. The Dark Lord's energy streamed like a gentle river—constant, controlled, yet capable of explosive bursts.
Even a sliver of Voldemort's magic could be stretched to its absolute limits.
—Of course, Dumbledore could do the same with ease.
*"So, this is the level of a true master?"*
Even when using a powerful spell like *Vulcanus Volens* with full magical reserves and mental clarity, Dylan felt he couldn't compare to what Dumbledore could achieve even in a weakened state.
*"I still have so much to learn."*
Dylan didn't let himself get arrogant, even though he had mastered several high-level spells.
On the contrary, mastering these spells had only made his shortcomings clearer.
Only by relentlessly studying, learning, and pushing himself could he hope to grow stronger.
To Dylan, mastering a spell was merely gaining control over a specific technique.
He could fully dissect a spell's principles and methods, allowing him to compare and adapt techniques from different spells.
Yet, the more he studied, the more insignificant he felt.
Even in this single wizarding world, the possibilities of magic were endless.
And now, having traveled across worlds, he longed to push his understanding of magic to its absolute limits—perhaps even reaching heights no one from any world had ever touched.
That was one of the driving forces behind his tireless, almost obsessive pursuit of magical knowledge.
Through this analysis, Dylan began mimicking Voldemort's refined magical control.
Such master-level techniques were rare to witness—Snape himself fell slightly short in comparison.
Of course, in Dylan's opinion, true spell mastery still belonged to Dumbledore.
Voldemort, despite his terrifying talents, had only pushed certain branches of magic to unprecedented heights.
In other areas, however, his ignorance was almost pitiful.
But Dylan didn't mind—he was just as ignorant in many ways, whether it came to dark magic or light.
How could one reflect a Killing Curse?
How could someone survive being struck by it?
How could one dismantle the Killing Curse, stripping it from the ranks of the Unforgivable Curses?
How could he create an Unforgivable Curse uniquely his own?
These were the questions Dylan sought to answer.
**"Vulcanus Volens!"** *(Fire God Unleashed!)*
A roaring wave of flame scattered the surrounding serpents, giving Dylan more room to maneuver.
He began incorporating the new techniques he had learned into his own magic.
Even as black serpents writhed around him, Dylan was entirely absorbed in his deep study of Voldemort's energy manipulation, greedily absorbing every nuance of the Dark Lord's spellcasting.
Until—
**"Aspic Invocation!"** *(Viper Summoning!)*
Dylan flicked his wand lightly.
In an instant, the air twisted, and a vortex of dark magic coiled on the ground.
The floor shook violently, cracks spread like spider webs, and thick black mist gushed from the gaps.
A low, rumbling hiss echoed through the room as a colossal viper erupted from the ground.
Its massive, coiling body shimmered with a cold, metallic sheen in the dim light. Its blood-red eyes glowed with a sinister gleam, and every flick of its tongue filled the room with a nauseating, metallic stench.
*"You actually have such a deep understanding of this kind of magic? This is far beyond ordinary spells."*
Voldemort's snake-like eyes narrowed, locking onto Dylan's position.
—Even though Dylan was still cloaked under his invisibility charm, the surge of flames made his location impossible to hide.
*"I have you to thank for all those repeated demonstrations,"* Dylan replied calmly, lifting his wand unhurriedly and pointing it toward Voldemort's serpents.
The giant viper instantly understood the command. Its massive body lunged forward like an arrow released from a bow, charging toward the swarm of black snakes with such speed that it created a gust of wind, making the robes of both figures flutter violently.
Though Voldemort's snake swarm was vast, the sudden assault from this enormous beast threw them into complete disarray.
Relying on its immense strength and agile movements, the giant viper tore through the swarm, striking left and right. Each lash of its tail sent dozens of black snakes flying, and every bite sowed chaos among their ranks.
Dylan stood back, quietly observing the battle while occasionally flicking his wand to adjust the viper's attack direction.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the scene.
Watching the massive viper rampaging through his own snake swarm, a hint of admiration unexpectedly flickered in his gaze.
"You managed to create such a lifelike viper just by watching me cast spells? No wonder the professors at Hogwarts speak so highly of you."
Arrogant as he was, Voldemort never truly underestimated the professors of Hogwarts. Anyone qualified to teach there was a master of their subject.
For a mere first-year wizard to earn the attention of so many professors, all eager to offer private lessons, spoke volumes.
Even Voldemort himself couldn't help but feel a rare appreciation for the boy's talent.
His hoarse voice echoed, "I can sense your affinity for dark magic—far beyond what you've shown so far. If you're willing—"
Before Voldemort could finish his sentence, Dylan cut him off coldly. "I'm not willing."
Was this guy serious?
They were already in the middle of a fight, and now Voldemort was trying to recruit him?
No wonder this guy's body count wasn't even close to Seamus's explosions.
Do all villains ramble this much? A proper hero wouldn't hesitate to take them down on the spot!
"Attack!" Dylan commanded, sending the giant viper charging toward Voldemort.
However, with just a simple flick of his wand, Voldemort sent Dylan's summoned beast flying, tearing a gaping hole in its abdomen.
The viper writhed on the ground in agony while Dylan froze in disbelief.
*That shouldn't have happened. Why was it taken down so easily? Did I not channel enough magic?*
While Dylan puzzled over this, Voldemort's eyes glimmered with an unreadable intent.
The next moment, he raised his wand suddenly.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The deadly green light shot across the room—but instead of targeting Dylan, it struck the wall behind him.
Dylan blinked, raising an eyebrow.
*What's this supposed to mean, Little Voldy?*
"Fiendfyre!"
The wicked flames twisted into ferocious beasts, circling around Dylan.
At first, Dylan thought Voldemort was using Fiendfyre to attack him. He prepared a counter-curse to extinguish the flames, but the fire merely circled him without striking—almost as if Voldemort was deliberately demonstrating the spell's intricate control.
*What the hell? Is he showing off tricks now?*
Dylan remained cautious, fully aware that someone Dumbledore himself feared wouldn't waste energy on pointless theatrics. Voldemort had to be hiding something—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Voldemort continued to move his wand, casting spell after spell of dark magic:
*Avada Kedavra, Crucio, Fiendfyre...*
All aimed harmlessly at the surrounding walls.
*What is this guy up to?*
Meanwhile, inside Voldemort's mind, a sinister plan unfolded.
*Such a talented young wizard—how could I let him avoid falling into darkness?*
He unleashed increasingly refined dark spells with every flick of his wand.
—His own mind had long since been twisted beyond recognition; these spells barely stirred his emotions anymore.
But merely witnessing such dark magic, let alone attempting to understand its principles, would inevitably corrupt anyone's mind.
This young wizard was too gifted to resist the allure of such powerful magic for long. If Dylan even so much as tried to comprehend these spells, a seed of darkness would take root in his heart.
And once that seed bloomed, once Dylan fully grasped the beauty of dark power—Voldemort would gain a stronger vessel.
Dylan would become yet another path to his return.
Voldemort envisioned himself controlling Dylan, using him to infiltrate Hogwarts and eventually dominate the entire wizarding world.
All the while, he continued his dark magic exhibition for Dylan's "benefit."
*Let's see how long this little wizard can resist. He must already be under the influence of the dark spells!*
He watched with growing excitement as Dylan stood silently, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the display of black magic around him. Voldemort's casting speed increased with his anticipation.
What Voldemort didn't know was that Dylan had already mastered the three Unforgivable Curses, as well as other dark spells like Fiendfyre, Bone Resurrection, and Parasite Possession.
So while Voldemort thought he was corrupting the boy's mind, Dylan was actually learning at an alarming speed, quickly understanding and absorbing the spells on display.
The situation turned downright bizarre.
A kid stood there silently, wand in hand, doing nothing but learning.
Across from him, a snake-faced lunatic cast dark magic all around the room like a one-man magical circus.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
**[Notification]: A true master of dark magic is performing tricks in front of you. Achievement unlocked!**
Time passed slowly.
After a few minutes, Voldemort's casting began to slow, his borrowed strength from Dylan nearly exhausted.
Though he longed to fully twist Dylan's mind, turning him into a madman obsessed with the study of darkness, Voldemort wouldn't completely drain his own power.
—A man without an escape route would be doomed.
This had always been Voldemort's way of thinking.
"Voldemort's knowledge of dark magic is truly profound. In some aspects, he could undoubtedly be considered the foremost expert in the entire wizarding world!"
Dylan gazed at the dark magic swirling around him, its presence saturated with extreme malice and the aura of death.
As someone who had already mastered many high-level dark curses, he could keenly perceive the sheer cruelty and malevolence emanating from them.
Some of the curses he had never encountered before filled him with an exhilarating sense of novelty.
Just as he was preparing to learn a few more spells, Voldemort's movements slowed.
Dylan frowned.
"That's it? Is that all you've got? Are you even capable, or…"
Just as he was about to urge Voldemort to show him a few more dark spells he hadn't learned before—
—"Don't even think about corrupting my student with dark magic, Tom!"
The surrounding space twisted violently.
A silver-haired old man with piercing eyes and a solemn expression suddenly appeared nearby. His long white beard billowed as he arrived.
With a mere wave of his hand, an overwhelming surge of pure magical power erupted, instantly sweeping through the entire room.
The vicious traces of dark magic, writhing like sinister claws, disintegrated under the force of this power. The raging flames of the Fiendfyre curse, as if gripped by an invisible hand, were snuffed out in an instant, leaving only wisps of smoke curling into the air.
Both Dylan and Voldemort froze in place.
"The old man Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore?!"
(End of Chapter)