"Lestrange Vault. One of the highest-security vaults in Gringotts."
The goblin Griphook leapt down from the cart, long fingers gesturing proudly toward the massive door.
"This door was forged by ancient goblins. It is fused with the mountain itself. No blasting curse, no severing charm can affect it."
"No keyhole. No handle."
"The only way to open it—" he lifted a clawed finger, smug—
"—is for a goblin to touch the runes in a precise sequence."
He grinned, sharp teeth glinting.
"And if any wizard tries? The door triggers a Flesh-Stripping Curse."
"That's just the beginning."
He continued, clearly enjoying himself:
"Inside, every object is cursed with two enchantments—"
Gemino Curse (duplication)Flagrante Curse (burning heat)
"Touch anything, and it multiplies endlessly—while becoming red-hot."
"Thieves are buried alive under burning treasure."
Griphook straightened.
Satisfied.
Let them understand.
This place was untouchable.
"Stand back," he said.
"I will demonstrate—"
"Not necessary."
Lucian stepped forward.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Griphook frowned. "This is not your place, boy—this is goblin—"
He stopped.
Because Lucian raised his hand.
New Spell
Concept: Ignore all layered defenses (physical + magical + causal)
Core idea:
All defenses assume the intruder exists within the same ruleset.
So—
step outside the rules.
Spell Name:
[Defense Nullification]
The Impossible
Lucian took one step forward.
And passed through the door.
No resistance.
No sound.
No magic.
Like walking through mist.
Griphook froze.
His finger is still hanging midair.
Eyes bulging.
Mouth open.
"…What?"
That wasn't a door.
That was Gringotts' pride.
A construct tied to the mountain's foundation.
And someone just…
walked through it.
Return
A moment later—
Lucian walked back out.
Same way.
In his hand—
a small golden cup.
Engraved with a badger.
Hufflepuff's Cup.
He lifted it slightly.
As if to say:
Done.
Total Collapse
Griphook rushed forward, frantic.
Opened the vault.
Heat exploded outward.
Inside—
mountains of treasure.
Glowing red-hot.
Multiplying endlessly.
A furnace of cursed gold.
He turned back.
I looked at Lucian.
Perfectly fine.
Untouched.
Something broke inside him.
This wasn't a wizard.
This wasn't power.
This was something else.
Griphook staggered back.
Legs shaking.
Eyes filled with raw fear.
Dumbledore sighed softly.
"…We'll have to get used to this."
"In Lucian's presence…"
"…'impossible' means nothing."
Elsewhere — Albania
Deep within a ruined forest.
Darkness pooled like poison.
At the center—
a thin, spectral figure sat upon a broken altar.
Voldemort.
Weak.
Unstable.
Barely held together.
Since his defeat—
he had been recovering.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then—
pain.
First Break
A sharp, tearing sensation—
deep within his soul.
His eyes snapped open.
"What… was that?"
He felt it.
Clearly.
The connection—
to the ring—
gone.
Severed.
Cleanly.
Second Strike
Before he could process—
another hit.
Stronger.
Violent.
The locket.
Destroyed.
"WHO?!" he roared.
The ruins trembled.
Magic surged wildly.
Third Blow
Then—
the worst.
The cup.
Gone.
This time—
he screamed.
A sound of pure agony.
Three Horcruxes.
Gone.
In rapid succession.
Impossible.
Realization
His mind raced.
Who could do this?
Dumbledore?
No.
Too slow.
Too careful.
Then—
a face surfaced.
Lucian Thornwick.
The boy from the graveyard.
The one who crushed him effortlessly.
Cold fear crept in.
"…It's him."
Only him.
Collapse of Certainty
For the first time in decades—
Voldemort felt it.
Fear.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Fear.
His immortality—
was being dismantled.
Piece by piece.
New Decision
Running?
Pointless.
If Lucian could find Horcruxes—
he could find him.
Waiting meant death.
So—
He chose madness.
The Plan
Attack.
Chaos.
War.
And one objective:
The Prophecy.
Hidden in the Ministry.
Maybe—
just maybe—
it held the answer.
Rise of the Dark Lord
Voldemort stood.
Aura stabilizing.
Cold.
Focused.
He raised his wand.
Pressed it to his arm—
where the Dark Mark once burned.
A pulse of magic—
spread across the land.
The Call
Death Eaters everywhere froze.
Their arms burned.
Painful.
Demanding.
A summons.
Absolute.
Gathering
One by one—
They Apparated.
Into the ruins.
Black robes.
Silver masks.
Fear in their eyes.
Their master had called.
And this time—
it wasn't for secrecy.
It was for war.
~~--------------------------
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