Harry and the Order of the Phoenix's support team worked through the night, preparing all the parameters and materials. By the time dawn broke, the sun was slowly painting the world with colors.
Dumbledore and Lily, worried about the dangerous dark magic ritual, insisted on coming along, and Harry had no choice but to agree.
They arrived at a mountainside location, with distant mountains stretching endlessly. It was a slightly chilly morning in early autumn. Harry, who was always sensitive to the cold, wore a light blue and white zip-up hoodie to ward off the chill, as he couldn't afford to be distracted by the cold during the magical ritual.
Harry walked through the thin morning mist in the wilderness, stepping over dew-covered grass, until he reached an open field.
In order for the magical ritual to perfectly coordinate various magical elements, it required precise control of magic by the wizard. Fortunately, Voldemort had been a good teacher and emphasized the importance of controlling magic. If the magical ritual were a symphony, Harry would be a skilled musician with perfect pitch and exquisite technique. Harry had performed many more complex and dangerous magical rituals in the past, which required greater intensity and precision than the one he was facing now. Without his strong control over magic, he would have died in magical accidents long ago.
The choice of location for the magical ritual was crucial according to magical theory. Certain plants and the power of latitude and longitude could aid the magic. Wheat fields were ideal places for this purpose. Therefore, in the wild valleys and wheat fields of England, Harry used the smoke of rosemary to draw a large glowing circle in the ground. He then used his own blood to draw a Rune formula. Guided by his magic, a silver-blue pillar of light rose from the center.
The magical ritual could be compared to brewing a potion but without a cauldron. Instead, various magical ingredients, spells, runes, herbs, potions, and celestial energies were combined within a magical circle in a designed manner to produce a unique magical effect.
Magic swirled with the wind, and a large and intricate magical pattern was drawn in the middle of the open field. If any Muggles happened to pass by at this moment, they would likely be astounded by the rotating multicolored light emitted by the magical ritual. Harry held his wand vertically in front of him, and the emerald gem embedded in the wand began to glow faintly. The holly wood wand's tip pointed toward the sky.
Dumbledore and Lily stood far outside the enormous magical circle, unable to see Harry's slight figure clearly amidst the brilliant light.
Harry focused intently on controlling the intensity of the magic in his hand and the path of the spell in the ritual. Before him lay an altar with a motionless zombie, bound by spells. Harry needed to find the representation of the zombie's owner within the body of the zombie.
After a series of complex steps, Harry finally waved his wand, and a gigantic upright magical circle composed of red light suddenly illuminated. The magical circle also featured many complex and mysterious symbols, and the dazzling light illuminated the faces of Lily and Dumbledore, who were watching from a distance.
With the runic symbols imbued with his blood, the connection to the owner of the zombie's authority was established. The silver-blue light turned crimson with blood, and then red faded away, returning to silver-blue. The light from the magical circle gradually dimmed until it melted away into the thin morning mist, leaving only a massive magical circle in the wheat field. To anyone else, it would seem as if nothing had happened.
But Harry knew that he was now the master of that group of zombies.
As the sun had risen slightly higher in the sky, the world had brightened. The distant mountains and the nearby wheat fields displayed shades of green and gold. The magical circle's power had caused the plants in the wheat field to bend in a neat circle. However, there was no need to worry; they would continue to grow. A strange haze lingered around the magical circle, a trace of dark magic that had yet to dissipate.
Harry walked to a more open area and mentally issued the command to summon all the Psycompliers. There was a series of crackling air bursts around him as the Psycompliers gathered from all directions. There were likely thousands of them, demonstrating how rapidly this virus-like index growth had spread. Harry was relieved that he had cut it off at the source; otherwise, who knew how many people would have been affected.
Over a thousand zombies surrounded him, and all of them knelt on one knee, expressing their submission to their master. Harry stood in the center, and his previously thin and frail figure now appeared particularly tall. The surroundings were still filled with the aura of dark magic, cold and powerful.
As Lily and Dumbledore watched from a distance, they suddenly realized with great clarity that Harry was indeed the legendary Dark Prince. The power, so immense and dark, momentarily sent shivers down the spines of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. These terrifying zombies had just recognized him as their master. If the Dark Prince suddenly changed his mind and wanted to cause havoc, to help Voldemort attack Muggles and Muggle-borns, how could they stop him?
Then Harry raised his wand. An Iceberg of Souls curse rained down like a meteor shower, and all the Psycompliers fell to the ground, frozen. This curse would immobilize their souls, pressing the pause button on the Psychevor infection process. Harry then used a concealed spell to hide all the fallen zombies.
Harry decided that he would try to save them later. There were more important matters to attend to right now. "I'll go find the wizard who created the Psychevors," he said to Dumbledore and Lily.
"I'll go with you," Lily said.
"No need to trouble you both; I can handle it on my own," Harry replied. Without waiting for their objections, he used the Phantom Apparition to disappear from their sight, guided by the mental phantom from the authority of the zombie owners.
Harry arrived at an estate that was evidently owned by a dark wizard. The weather here was gloomy, and the entire estate had a foreboding aura. Just as Dementors drained warmth and light from their surroundings, the accumulation of dark magic in this place had likely caused temperatures to drop by a few degrees, with perpetual overcast skies. So, even in Muggle fairy tales, the houses of evil wizards were always depicted as dark and sinister.
A hemispherical dark magic barrier protected the estate against intruders. While ordinary Aurors might have been stopped by it, someone as powerful and experienced as Harry could easily overcome such a barrier. Harry dismantled the protective enchantments of the estate, and it seemed that the owner of the estate wasn't particularly skilled in protective magic.
From the outside, the estate appeared unremarkable and even dilapidated. However, once inside the barrier, the true appearance of the house and garden was revealed. Harry cast protective spells on himself and cautiously followed a stone path. In the flowerbeds along the path, black roses bloomed, enchanting and eerie. There were strange-looking trees, some with vines that seemed alive, and others bore fluorescent blue and purple fruits hanging quietly among the branches. There were even giant glowing mushrooms. Harry recognized these as rare ingredients often used in dark magical rituals.
Soul magic... the Psychevors were a form of soul magic. It seemed that the owner of this estate had deep knowledge of this branch of magic.
The estate's followers had been summoned and gathered in the mansion's grand hall. They had also noticed the loss of the Psycompliers and were unaware of the serious incident that had occurred. The leading dark wizard was assigning tasks to investigate.
Then, the doors of the hall were pushed open.
The black wizards in the hall turned to see a slender young boy dressed in Muggle clothes walking in as if he owned the place.
"How did this Muggle come in?" someone in the hall began to ask but was interrupted mid-sentence.
A purple light, swirling with colors, swept across the entire hall like a tornado. The curse was lightning fast, and everyone in the room collapsed to the ground, except for the leader.
Harry, without stopping his stride, continued walking toward the leader, the head of the so-called "third-party faction," the mastermind behind the Psychevors.
It was an elderly woman who appeared to be quite old, with wrinkles covering her face, and her silver hair casually tied up into a bun, with a few loose strands hanging by her ears. Her eyes had a hint of madness.
"Did Albus Dumbledore send you?" she asked as the curse approached Harry.
Harry recognized this as another soul magic curse, but his protective shield against soul magic held strong.
"I represent two other factions and have come to end this farce," Harry replied coldly. Powerful imprisonment spells had already bound the woman. It seemed she wasn't skilled in protective magic either. Harry continued to advance and stood in front of her. He spoke casually, as if discussing the weather. "The Dark Lord requests your presence."
"Is it because of the loss of the Psychevors? Did you cause that?" the dark wizard now understood the truth behind the disappearance of her Psycompliers.
"Why would you create Psychevors, creatures that could potentially destroy the world? And this 'third-party faction' you mentioned, if you have the power, why not do something good with it?" Harry couldn't help but comment.
"Oh, who said that? The Death Eaters? The Dark Prince?" the woman retorted with sarcasm. Harry fell silent, realizing that he couldn't argue with her.
The woman finally surrendered, and with Harry, she left the grand hall and entered the courtyard outside, returning to the garden path. Black roses still bloomed there, as enchanting as ever.
"So, did you kill all those people in the hall?" the dark wizard asked.
"They'll wake up in thirty-six hours," Harry replied. "But before that, the Aurors will arrive."
"But you..." Harry's gaze returned to the elderly woman. "Can I choose a different way to die?" she asked.
"Which way do you want?" Harry inquired.
"I want to try the Resurrection Ritual one last time," the woman said.
"The Resurrection Ritual, the closest thing to bringing the dead back to life..." Harry recognized this term immediately. The Resurrection Ritual was an ancient and mysterious branch of dark magic. It was said to be the only ritual that could open the doors between life and death, allowing the summoning of the spirits of the deceased from another world. This ancient and mysterious civilization had always been fascinated by death and rebirth.
"Can you bring back a loved one from the dead?" Harry asked sympathetically, realizing her desperation in the face of death.
"It's my beloved," the woman replied. "I've never dared to touch the Resurrection Ritual until now, at the end of my life. I just want to give it one last try."
The dark wizard had already prepared the materials required for the Resurrection Ritual. Harry and the woman proceeded to a secluded spot suitable for magical rituals as they waited for dusk.
While waiting, Harry engaged in conversation with the woman. "Psychevors can indeed potentially destroy the world, but why should I care about the world's destruction? What benefit does it bring me? The advantage of Psychevors is that only dark magic can control them. No matter how powerful a white wizard is, they can't deal with them. Unfortunately, this time, I couldn't kill Albus Dumbledore, that sanctimonious hypocrite."
"So, yesterday's soul zombies were going after him... But why?" Harry was curious, as the woman's words seemed to suggest a personal grudge.
"He and Grindelwald were once lovers! While they were deeply involved with each other, they casually destroyed the love of others? I had no idea... I thought Ariana died at the hands of Grindelwald. I thought Grindelwald had deceived Albus... he was so good at justifying himself!" The woman's words held a hint of suppressed emotion, and her eyes dimmed as if lost in a memory. "I never knew they were actually lovers! Why don't you go ask the great Albus Dumbledore, can he justify what he did to his sister?"
"The truth is, Grindelwald has already been locked away and is receiving punishment. But him? The great white wizard? Receiving the world's respect? If it weren't for the Prophet's expose of the evidence this time, how much longer would he have deceived the world?" The woman continued to vent her frustration. She knew that it was over, so she began to share her lifetime of research with Harry. "That world is a sea of light, or rather, an ocean of primordial energy, just like the power of souls. The light of the soul is that primordial energy. Primordial energy flows from there to our world, at the moment a baby is born. It splits into the Three Pillars of Life and the soul. It also creates the Bridge of Souls, severing the connection to the mother while establishing a link to both the newborn's own self and the world. This marks the birth of a new life. And when we die, the soul returns to that sea of light."
She sighed and continued, "But just as water in the ocean is indistinguishable, the light of every soul is interconnected. People say that souls are eternal, and indeed, the Sea of Light is eternal, but there is no sense of self or distinction between individuals in that world. Every drop of water is the same."
Upon hearing this, Harry immediately recalled many similar mystical experiences documented in different cultural contexts—moments when individuals felt their sense of self dissolve, as if merging with the universe. He kept up with her and asked, "Is this what the Hermetic tradition calls 'oneness'?"
"Yes, the beings in our world can occasionally experience that sense of oneness. In fact, everyone's souls are interconnected on a higher plane; it's just that most people don't perceive it," she continued, "But in that Sea of Light, there is no self, no memory. How can we say 'I' exist in that place? All that makes us 'us,' the self, the personality, the memories, the experiences, all of it is left behind here, existing only in the memories of our world."
Harry recalled the theory of information conservation in physics. "The Akashic Records..." he chose to reply in a more mystical manner.
"Yes," the dark wizard nodded in approval, "Even when a person dies, their record does not fade away. All the information of everything that has ever happened in this world is stored in the Akashic Records."
"But if everyone's souls are interconnected, why can we feel our individuality in this world?" Harry asked.
"That's an excellent question," she seemed pleased that her audience was keeping up with her thoughts. The elderly woman continued with deep emotion, "Every living being is just a random vortex that occasionally appears in the Sea of Light. The light is the same, but the vortices are different. The vortex is not the light. Then the vortex gradually calms down... returns to stillness, returns to death."
"..." Harry realized that the vortex was not the water molecules themselves; it was the information of the collective movement of water molecules. His mind raced, recalling many things: the emergence of complex systems, ant colonies, the magic of life, sacrifices, vortices... and his father's ritual for immortality. He said nothing and continued to listen to the woman's narrative.
"The vortex of every life, perhaps, appears randomly..." the dark wizard sighed, "but there can also be strange connections between different people's vortices. For example, the so-called soulmates may be the result of two similar vortices resonating. Lovers, blood relatives, twins—they all have somewhat similar vortices, which could lead to mysterious connections, telepathy, or even bonds of destiny."
"Unfortunately, Anna's vortex has long since calmed down... I loved her, but I can no longer be connected to her."
