The first thing Harry saw was a massive stone door covered in intricate cutout patterns. It was already open—Voldemort had clearly gone through.
Harry stepped inside.
A wide, open space appeared, roomy but dim. The layout reminded him of the Chamber of Secrets: rows of stone pillars rose from both sides, holding up a domed ceiling above.
Those pillars were packed with dense rune carvings, likely reinforcing the structure.
The floor was covered in runes too, but these were different.
These were sealing runes.
Wait…
Sealing?
A bad feeling crawled up Harry's spine. And he suddenly understood why, after being badly injured, Voldemort hadn't fled back out of the Chamber of Secrets—why he'd instead pushed deeper and come here.
Sure enough, Harry spotted Voldemort at the very center of the space.
The bleeding had stopped, but after losing so much blood—and one entire arm—Voldemort's face was still deathly pale. His combat strength had obviously dropped.
When Voldemort saw Harry enter, he panted hard and snarled viciously, "You damn, crafty little brat. All that talking earlier—you were just trying to make me lose focus and expose an opening!"
Magic in the wizarding world was fundamentally tied to the mind. The moment your focus wavered, even a spell cast by someone like Dumbledore would weaken drastically.
Harry didn't deny it, and he didn't waste words.
Because his attention had locked onto something floating beside Voldemort—
a transparent crystal.
Looking around, Harry realized the crystal sat precisely at the center of the entire room, and the dense runes engraved into the floor existed for one reason: to seal that crystal.
The crystal itself was irregular in shape, but it had a naturally carved beauty—its edges smoothed and rounded like they'd been polished for ages by gentle water.
Through the fast-flowing halo of light rippling across it, Harry saw a young woman curled inside.
She wore Hogwarts robes—Gryffindor, by the look of them.
Her appearance was impossibly refined, with long silver-white hair. She was prettier than any elf Harry had ever seen across the multiverse.
But for her, that was just decoration.
Harry stared without blinking for one reason only—
the magical pressure coming off her was like an ocean.
And worse…
It wasn't just vast. It was violent.
It was ancient magic—wilder, heavier, stronger.
Harry didn't dare move.
He truly didn't.
Because if he made a move, Voldemort might decide to crack the seal out of spite.
Harry didn't know why this mysterious witch had been sealed. He didn't know how Voldemort had found this place. He didn't know why an ancient-magic pool could connect this ruin to the Chamber of Secrets.
But he did know one thing:
If that seal broke, the magic inside her would spiral out of control.
And if that much magic detonated…
All of Britain—maybe all of Europe—might get erased off the map.
Harry suspected the only reason he himself might survive would be because chaos magic could also spiral out of control inside him… and he'd already lived through worse.
Judging by the amount of ancient magic he could sense, Harry even suspected that if this witch were fully awake and able to control her power freely…
she might rival the Ancient One.
And this was the wizarding world, not a multiverse where energy ran more freely.
So much for "the wizarding world has no true monsters."
One was right in front of him.
Harry forced his thoughts to settle. He looked at Voldemort calmly and asked, "What are you trying to do?"
Voldemort drank a Life Potion and waited as his severed left arm began to regrow.
He stared at Harry coldly and said, "Stay right there. Don't move an inch. If you try anything, I don't mind taking everyone with me."
Harry had no doubt Voldemort meant it. As an extreme egoist, as long as he could guarantee his own survival, there was nothing he wouldn't do.
But Harry didn't panic.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he began pushing his own magic beyond its normal limits—preparing to kill Voldemort instantly the moment Voldemort relaxed.
To be honest, this was the first time Harry had ever overloaded his magic inside the wizarding world.
Then, right as Harry was about to strike—
a voice echoed through the sealed space.
It was raspy, yet somehow pleasant, drifting through the silence.
"You two… who are you? Where am I?
Oh, right… I almost lost control, so I sealed myself…
So… what year is it now?"
The instant that voice rang out, both Harry and Voldemort went rigid, hair prickling along their skin.
That voice wasn't from either of them.
They turned—
and it had come from the faintly glowing crystal.
From the witch sealed inside it.
Voldemort was visibly startled. He immediately retreated, putting the crystal between himself and Harry while staring at it with open dread.
The witch inside the crystal still looked the same.
But both Harry and Voldemort could feel it—
her magic had shifted.
She really had awakened.
And the ancient magic inside the crystal had become even more violent than before.
Even after being sealed for so long, the witch seemed to retain sharp awareness of the outside world. She caught the tense, hostile pressure between Harry and Voldemort and asked with curiosity, "Who are you, exactly? Why are you here? And from the look of it…
are you fighting?"
Voldemort's eyes flicked rapidly. He scanned the surroundings, then assessed the witch's appearance.
A plan formed instantly. He felt like he'd roughly guessed who she was.
In the next breath, he switched expressions like flipping a mask. Anger surged onto his face, and he played the victim first.
"Senior—this is 1992. That person is Slytherin's heir. He disguised himself as a student, opened the Chamber of Secrets, and released the Basilisk to attack other students.
I came as a professor to capture him, but I wasn't his match. He injured me.
Help me subdue him!"
The mysterious senior didn't react immediately. Instead, she turned her attention to Harry.
"Is that true?" she asked calmly. "Do you have an explanation?"
Harry almost wanted to laugh.
Voldemort had never met a Skyfather-tier existence.
Harry had spent years around beings of that level. He knew how they worked.
For someone like that, reading truth off a mind wasn't a big deal. Even without that, detecting lies was trivial.
Harry also roughly guessed who this "senior" was supposed to be, and he sighed in mild resignation.
"Senior, stop messing around. He's the current Dark Lord. Right now he's essentially a Horcrux latched onto someone else's body—and he's also mastered ancient magic. We can't let him escape."
The moment Harry finished, Voldemort snapped back, "He's lying! I'm Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts professor—Gilderoy Lockhart! What I said is the truth!"
But before Voldemort could finish—
a deep purple light shot out from the crystal.
It streaked straight toward him.
Voldemort's face changed violently. He tried to block it with his own purple beam—
but the instant the two powers touched, Voldemort's ancient magic collapsed like paper.
Even though the crystal's purple light looked dimmer, it crushed his spell instantly, then slammed into him.
Voldemort's body began to twist and warp. All he managed was a single, shrieking scream—
and then his appearance violently reshaped, snapping back into Lockhart's form.
At the same time, a diary burst out of Lockhart's body, rose into the air, and was engulfed by that purple light.
In the blink of an eye, it turned to ash.
Watching the "senior" erase Voldemort so casually, Harry clicked his tongue in disbelief.
No wonder people said that back when she'd just started fifth year, she'd carved her way from one end of the Forbidden Forest to the other like it was a warm-up.
Her strength really was about what Harry had expected.
She very well might be Skyfather-tier.
After using her power to kill Voldemort, the ancient magic within the crystal surged even more violently—
but under her control, it gradually calmed.
A moment later, her voice sounded a little tired, but even more curious.
"How did you know I could tell who was lying?"
Harry shrugged like it was obvious.
"Because I understand chaos magic. When chaos magic reaches a certain amount, it undergoes a qualitative change. At that point, you can do almost anything with pure intent."
That answer clearly interested her.
Then Harry felt it—a wave of magic extending through the crystal, scanning his body again and again.
Harry didn't resist.
He even released a portion of his chaos magic on purpose, making it easier for her to examine.
After a short moment, she stopped. Her voice turned intensely excited.
"Such high-quality magic. The quality is far above my ancient magic.
If it's you… you might actually be able to do it.
Your name is Harry, right? Harry—junior—please. Help me."
Harry asked curiously, "What do you want me to do?"
When she realized Harry wasn't rejecting her outright, her excitement spiked even more, like she could already see the day she'd break free.
"Because I absorbed too many sources of ancient magic… and later I absorbed all the magic of an ancient dragon. My magic got too vast, too unstable—always on the verge of erupting—so I had no choice but to seal myself.
So I want you to find a way to stabilize the magic inside me…
or find a way to extract the ancient magic from my body."
To be honest, she didn't have much hope that Harry could solve it.
Back when her condition wasn't even this bad, she'd exhausted every method she could think of searching for a solution.
She found nothing.
So the odds that Harry could find an answer should've been even lower.
But what she didn't expect was—
after hearing her request, Harry didn't look troubled at all.
He looked thrilled.
Like someone who'd been stuck on an impossible problem… and had just run into the perfect missing piece.
Without hesitation, he blurted, "Senior, you smell incredible! I mean—uh…
I actually have the perfect solution."
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