Ten days later, in the Alchemy Workshop of the Wizard Tower.
Assistant golem Orianna was still operating the Analyzer. The deep dive into the Philosopher's Stone was finally nearing its end.
A moment later, the Analyzer's heavy casing hissed open. The blood-red Philosopher's Stone lay completely intact on the central tray.
As Orianna finalized the analysis, Tower Spirit Zero immediately pushed the results to Damian.
Damian was reading in an adjacent room when a translucent light screen flickered to life before him.
[Analysis Successful] Item: Philosopher's Stone Refining Method: [Extracted...] Required Materials: [Extracted...]
Damian let out a long sigh of relief as he scrolled through the data. The Philosopher's Stone was truly the magnum opus of the master alchemist Nicolas Flamel; the refining process was unfathomably complex.
This single analysis had consumed a massive amount of the Tower's mana reserves. If it hadn't been for the substantial influx of resources he had gained during the celebration banquet under his "Alsha" identity, he would have been forced to find alternative ways to recharge the Wizard Tower's magic core.
Damian had previously synchronized the data on magical materials from the Hogwarts world into the Tower Spirit's database. Because of this, the analysis results accurately listed the specific ingredients required from the Hogwarts world, alongside potential, highly potent alternatives from his original wizarding world.
Refining a second Philosopher's Stone from scratch would require a vast amount of resources. Having access to materials from two entirely different worlds made the impossible task much more feasible.
Ironically, refining the Philosopher's Stone—an artifact famous for turning base metals into pure gold—actually required sacrificing a massive amount of gold during the brewing process.
Damian noted that the recipe required "Gold Essence." Gold Essence had to be magically refined from literal tons of raw gold, making it an exorbitantly expensive magical material. However, with access to two worlds' economies, raw gold was not an issue for him. Any other scarce, highly regulated materials could easily be acquired through his Alsha persona.
Just then, Orianna glided into the room, carrying the Philosopher's Stone.
"Thank you, Orianna," Damian said, picking the heavy red gem up off the tray. "Zero, encrypt and save the formula for the Philosopher's Stone into the primary database."
"It has been securely recorded, Master," Tower Spirit Zero replied instantly.
Gripping the Philosopher's Stone tightly, Damian activated his runic metal disc and traversed back to the underground chambers of Hogwarts Castle.
Harry and Quirrell were still frozen in their exact original positions. To them, not even a second had passed.
As soon as Damian materialized back in the room, Voldemort's hoarse, furious voice echoed through the chamber. "Damn you, Black! Kill him! Get the Stone back!"
"Ah—!" Quirrell wailed. Having just had his arm cleanly severed by Damian's magic, the professor was in no state to fight. He clutched his bleeding stump, screaming in agony, completely unable to heed his master's commands.
This only made Voldemort angrier. "What a useless waste of flesh! Drink the potion! Drink it now, if you don't want to die here!"
Terrified by Voldemort's threat, Quirrell forced himself to endure the blinding pain. Fumbling with his one good hand, he pulled a small vial from his robes.
Voldemort had recently sold off highly classified dark magic secrets in exchange for a dragon egg, which had given them just enough leftover gold on the black market to purchase this specific, highly illegal potion. It was a dark brew designed to temporarily suppress Quirrell's soul, allowing Voldemort to take direct, physical control of the body and unleash a fraction of his true power.
Damian wasn't about to just stand there and let him drink it. He immediately commanded the thick green vines he had conjured earlier to whip violently toward Quirrell's remaining hand.
However, Quirrell was on guard. He instantly dissolved into a swirling cloud of black mist. The vines whipped uselessly through the smoke, shattering against the stone floor.
By the time the black mist reformed into a physical body on the other side of the room, Quirrell had already downed the potion.
The hideous face on the back of his head began to laugh—a high, cold, cruel sound. Then, Quirrell's body jerked violently. His neck twisted with a sickening crunch, rotating a full one hundred and eighty degrees until Voldemort's snake-like face was facing the front.
Voldemort was now in complete control. He let out a long, shuddering sigh. "Ah... it has been so long... since I felt the true sensation of a physical form."
He gave his right hand a sharp flick. The wand that Quirrell had dropped flew straight into his grasp.
Voldemort's red eyes locked onto Damian. "Black... I know of you. Your talent... even I cannot help but marvel at it. You are an outstanding Slytherin."
He began to slowly pace, attempting to dismantle Damian's fighting spirit with honeyed words. "We are both exceptional wizards, Black. Outstanding people should stand with other outstanding people. We need not be enemies."
He spread his one arm wide. "I possess... boundless, ancient knowledge of the Dark Arts. Secrets that Dumbledore would rather see destroyed. All of it can be yours... as long as you hand the Stone over to me."
Voldemort's speech was becoming increasingly fluent and powerful as he rapidly adapted to his new physical control.
However, Damian's response was not what the Dark Lord expected. Damian merely flicked his wand. The vines littered across the floor instantly transfigured into dozens of razor-sharp, gleaming steel blades, shooting directly at Voldemort.
"Your era ended ten years ago, Tom," Damian said coldly. "Go back to the underworld where you belong."
"Ungrateful wretch!" Voldemort shrieked, his illusion of civility shattering. "I gave you a chance!"
Thick, suffocating black mist erupted from his body, violently repelling the swarm of flying blades. Voldemort slashed his wand through the air.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding, rushing jet of green light tore across the room, aimed straight for Damian's chest.
Damian's expression hardened instantly. The sheer malice and raw power behind this Killing Curse was leagues beyond anything he had ever encountered from normal Dark Wizards. Just looking at the sickly green light made his chest tighten, as if a giant hand were trying to crush his heart.
Without a second of hesitation, Damian channeled his mana, instantly activating the three defensive runic artifacts hidden beneath his robes.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
A shimmering shield composed of translucent, interlocking polygons materialized before him. Instantly, four thick layers of enchanted ice crystal formed behind it. Finally, a humming runic forcefield enveloped Damian's body.
In the blink of an eye, three absolute defensive barriers were erected.
The Killing Curse hit the first barrier like a freight train. The polygonal magic shield shattered instantly. The curse tore through the four layers of ice crystal, exploding them into frozen dust in less than a second.
The curse slammed into the final runic forcefield. The forcefield held for a fraction of a second longer, but terrifying, spider-web cracks immediately began to spider across its surface.
But that fraction of a second was all Damian needed.
The moment his artifacts deployed, Damian reached into his Undetectable Extension pocket, pulled out a cement bag filled with fine sand, and hurled it forcefully into the air between them.
The enchanted architecture of Hogwarts Castle was incredibly resistant to external Transfiguration, and this chamber was entirely empty. Even the vines and blades Damian had used earlier were merely transfigured strips of his own clothing. To execute large-scale elemental Transfiguration, he needed a raw physical medium. The sand was perfect.
The moment the bag burst open, Damian slashed his wand. The cloud of falling sand instantly transfigured into a roaring, explosive sea of fire.
The sudden inferno blasted outward, forcing Voldemort to stumble backward and break his concentration, cutting off the continuous power feeding the Killing Curse. The green light, lacking its lethal momentum, finally fizzled out against Damian's cracking forcefield.
Damian thrust his wand high into the air. The sea of fire spiraled upward, transforming into a massive, roaring pillar of flames that filled almost the entire chamber. Everything except the small corners where Damian and Harry stood was completely engulfed in the raging inferno.
"Ahhh! AHHHH!"
Agonized screams echoed from within the pillar of fire. It was a horrifying, overlapping mix of Voldemort and Quirrell's voices, sounding exceptionally shrill and desperate.
Harry, who had long since scrambled backward to press himself into the furthest corner of the room, watched the scene in absolute, terrified astonishment. The sheer scale and violence of the magic unfolding before his eyes shook him to his core. It was the first time he had ever realized that magic could be so utterly destructive.
What kind of spell is this...? Harry thought numbly. He didn't even realize he was witnessing master-class elemental Transfiguration.
A moment later, the screaming from within the inferno grew weaker and weaker, until it finally faded away.
Just when Harry thought the dust had settled and the Dark Lord was dead, a charred, blackened hand—with white bone exposed through the burned flesh—suddenly shot out of the flames and clamped violently around his throat.
Harry gagged, choking as the charred hand lifted him off his feet. He couldn't breathe.
Through the roaring flames, Voldemort's face emerged. It was burned almost beyond recognition, the flesh melting off the skull.
However, the moment the hand gripped Harry's skin, the ancient protective magic left by Lily Potter flared to life. The charred hand seemed to come into contact with a lethal, corrosive acid. The flesh and bone began to blister, disintegrate, and collapse into ash.
Like a rapid contagion, the agonizing disintegration spread up the arm and violently overtook Voldemort and Quirrell's shared body.
"It is all because of you... that I have ended up... in this state..." Voldemort hissed intermittently, his form crumbling to pieces. "Harry Potter... I will definitely... personally... kill you... And... Damian Black..."
Quirrell's destroyed body could no longer hold together. It fell backward into the raging pillar of fire. Under the combined, devastating effects of Lily Potter's sacrificial magic and Damian's transfigured inferno, the vessel was burned to absolute ash.
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