Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

For a long time, what Evan had faced was only a mutilated version of the evil god Herpo — yet even then, every part of that body had been terrifyingly powerful.

How strong Herpo truly was in his complete, unrestrained state lay far beyond human imagination. Even now, when Herpo was still merely a human wizard, even when he had not outwardly displayed any spells, the aura he radiated alone was enough to inspire profound fear.

This was fear of pure power itself, fear rooted deep within the soul, fear of death and of the unknown.

Evan had never felt such an overwhelming magical aura before, not even from the Four Founders of Hogwarts.

Under the eerie glow of the ruby, everything in sight was tinged with an ominous crimson.

Facing this Dark wizard who stood at the pinnacle of human history, Evan’s sense of foreboding grew ever heavier. What kind of feeling was this? Death was approaching, an instinctive fear enveloped his heart, refusing to dissipate.

A voice was screaming inside him, telling him that the end of the world was at hand.

If Herpo were allowed to complete his magic, if he were allowed to become a terrifying evil god, then the heart of this world would cease to beat.

All would die, becoming part of the newly born god of death.

The wizards before the temple also sensed this aura. The battlefield rapidly shifted, dozens of wizards floating upwards and flying straight towards the top of the temple. Silver, red, blue, and green lights flared before them as spell runes and sigils appeared out of thin air. Their magic radiated immense power, striking with astonishing force towards Herpo and the ruby before him.

“Laughable resistance! My empire shall be this world’s only destination!”

Herpo’s voice resounded in everyone’s minds, filled with excitement and boundless madness.

“Submit. My magic is about to succeed. No one can stop me. You shall have the honor of witnessing the descent of Death!”

“Hahaha, such excellent flesh and blood! Offering your souls will prove your worth!”

“Servants, stay here and serve me! Open your arms and accept my gifts!”

Dense black magical runes flashed in the air, shielding Herpo from every attack. The familiar phantom of the evil god began to take shape once more, towering thousands of feet high as flesh and blood were drawn towards it by Herpo, rapidly coalescing into form.

The wizards’ attacks grew increasingly powerful, the entire space enveloped in magical radiance.

A massive silver sword was summoned by the wizards, its dazzling radiance drove back the ruby’s red glow, causing the entire space to tremble. The great sword crashed down towards Herpo, but a colossal basilisk immediately emerged from beneath the temple.

The basilisk’s body was severed in two, and the silver sword lost its power.

Herpo swung his wand forcefully, and the severed basilisk began to transform, dissolving into black smoke that rushed towards the nearest wizard at incredible speed. Enveloped in the black mist, the wizard let out a heart-wrenching scream before being devoured, reduced to nothing but a pile of bones.

The wizards refused to give up. They unleashed magic to resist the encroaching black mist and conjured all manner of powerful magical creatures, monsters, and demons to join the battle. Together, they hurled themselves at the still-forming evil god, and the fighting escalated to a ferocity beyond imagination.

Evan had no mind to keep watching. If this continued, he would sooner or later be dragged into it himself.

Without the protection of a temporal anchor, anything he did would constitute a severe alteration of history, bringing about catastrophic consequences. Moreover, as the wizards and Herpo clashed in their magical battle, this space was growing increasingly unstable.

Rifts in space and time were frequently appearing around Evan, tearing at the magical energy surrounding his body.

Even Gryffindor’s Philosopher’s Stone could not withstand such consumption; cracks began to appear on its surface.

Evan sensed he couldn’t maintain this state; continuing would mean certain death.

Before his magic ran out, he had to leave and return to the right time — even returning to the moment when the Ravenclaw family opened the Veil of Death, or any other point in time — would be better than staying here any longer.

Evan desperately tried to control his magic to activate the Time-Turner, forcefully pouring the remaining magic into it, regardless of whether it would completely destroy it. Once again, the hands of the Time-Turner began to spin, faster and faster.

He heard the sound of time once more, and the last scene before his eyes was like the end of the world.

Under the wizards’ attack, Herpo also floated off the temple’s top, flying towards the newly born evil god. Space was collapsing, shrouded in black mist, and his body began to change, quickly losing all human shape as he merged with the evil god.

In the end, he became Death!

What happened next, Evan didn’t know. The surrounding scenery changed again, fading from clarity into blur before beginning to flow. He was hurtling through a tunnel of time, protected by the magic surrounding his body.

This scene lasted for a few seconds. The tremendous drain completely exhausted the magic stored within the Philosopher’s Stone.

Just as Evan felt he had reached his limit, the surroundings gradually solidified into tangible form.

A dim crimson light enveloped the world, and the enormous ruby hovered silently above the temple.

A deathly silence enveloped the area, and a sense of mystery arose.

“What point in time is this?”

Evan looked around. The terrible battle was over; he could see the temple complex below was in ruins, but the “Eye of Death” remained. This should be some moment after the battle between Herpo and the wizards, but before the Ravenclaw family opened the Veil.

He did not know who had emerged victorious in that battle, or whether both sides had been severely injured.

Evan saw no sign of Herpo. The hands of the Time-Turner had not yet stopped, though their rotation was slowing more and more.

The magic supplied by the Philosopher’s Stone was no longer enough to drive it forward, nor could it free Evan from the grip of time.

He found himself in a strange state, fixed in this place, adrift between reality and nothingness, becoming part of time along with magic, one could even say he was time itself. An indescribable realization surfaced in his mind.

Time flowed forward at a pace visible to the naked eye — seas turning to mulberry fields, epochs passing in moments. Each second might have encompassed several centuries, yet to Evan there was no difference. Here, time seemed to have lost all meaning; the scene before him never changed again.

Only the marks left by the passage of years upon the temple’s structures bore witness to the fact that time was still moving — flowing quietly under the influence of magic, settling into a new equilibrium. Evan was carried along with it. Perhaps this would allow him to return to the correct point in time; perhaps it would continue forever, just like the scene he had witnessed within the Great Vortex — the consequence of time falling into chaos.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, until a man in black robes appeared before the temple.

Evan recognized the man almost instantly — it was Salazar Slytherin!

Slytherin in his youth — far younger than in any of the encounters Evan had previously experienced.

He stood in the plaza before the temple. Long ago, that place had been piled high with mountains of flesh and blood; now, nothing remained. Slytherin gazed up at the “Eye of Death” atop the temple, then turned his head towards Evan’s position, as though he had noticed him.