"You really are a wizard, kid," rasped the voice from the tumor bulging on the side of the wolf's neck.
"But if you want to learn magic, you'll need a wand... That won't be hard. Plenty of wizards have died in this forest. The question is whether you can survive long enough to find one of their relics."
---
The scene before Lycos suddenly froze.
Then, just as abruptly, the wolf vanished. Leaves began falling rapidly from the trees, turning from green to gold in midair. A swirling storm of yellow blanketed the ground, layering it with a thin, brittle carpet.
"Lycos, your magical talent exceeds even my expectations."
It was the same hoarse voice, though now it seemed steadier—more confident.
Lycos turned and blinked in surprise.
The wolf was gone. In its place stood a massive black bear.
On the bear's belly was a bald patch of fur, split into three jagged seams—an eerily familiar, rough-hewn face just like before.
In the next moment, the top two slits of the "face" opened, revealing glowing crimson eyes.
"In that case, those trivial spells are beneath you."
"I believe... it's time I taught you something much more powerful."
---
Again, the vision froze. This time, however, the forest remained in autumn; nothing had changed. Time hadn't leapt forward—at least not much.
When the suspended leaves began drifting once more, Lycos realized he was holding a wand.
His mouth moved of its own accord, reciting an incantation he couldn't consciously recall.
A brilliant green beam of light erupted from the wand tip, lancing through the air and striking a nearby tree.
A squirrel had just peeked its head out from a hole in the trunk. Its tiny black eyes filled instantly with the flash of green.
Thump.
The squirrel fell into the thick pile of crispy yellow leaves at the tree's base, where it was quickly covered by the falling foliage. It didn't move again.
---
The image paused, and the golden leaves morphed seamlessly into drifting snow.
The forest trees now stood barren, their branches glazed with white. Occasionally, a gust would shake loose the frost, letting it fall softly into the drifts below.
"Heh... heheheh..."
A dry, rasping laugh suddenly echoed from behind him.
Lycos turned to see a thick-bodied viper coiled around the trunk of a tree—strangely awake despite the season.
The snake raised its head, revealing pale yellow scales under its chin. Just like before, the scales had split open to form a crude face—eyes and a mouth, now more defined than ever.
"Ha ha ha..." the face cackled. "You mastered advanced Dark Magic in just three minutes? Lycos, I've never seen talent like yours!"
"Listen to me—combine your talent with my teaching, and you'll be one of the greatest Dark Wizards the world has ever known!"
"Just follow my lead, Lycos, and I'll make you... the next Dark Lord!"
---
Once again, the leaves turned green, signaling a shift in time. The forest looked different now—older, more overgrown. Clearly, a lot of time had passed.
Lycos stood beneath a tree, watching as a young wizard lay face-down on the ground, clutching his head and screaming in terror.
"Silence, Quirrell!"
The raspy voice barked sharply.
"From this day forward, I am your master. You'd best accept that if you wish to live."
The young wizard panted heavily, hands slowly dropping from his scalp.
Lycos watched as the man's hair rapidly thinned, disappearing in mere seconds until his skull was completely bald.
Then, three slits opened up on the back of his head—along with two long, snake-like nostrils—forming a hideous face.
"Ah... the magic of a full-grown wizard... I've waited eleven years for this!" The twisted face let out a satisfied laugh.
Even within the dream, Lycos shuddered.
If he had been a fully matured wizard instead of a child with unstable magic, Voldemort would've overtaken his body long ago...
At that moment, the Dark Lord's glowing red eyes narrowed.
"Wait... Lycos, come here."
His body moved without his consent, walking straight toward the back of Quirrell's head—toward Voldemort's face.
"Ah... so your gift isn't limited to Dark Magic alone," the voice crooned. "A natural Occlumens... What a rare find."
A wicked grin stretched across the twisted face.
"Excellent... truly excellent," Voldemort hissed, now visibly elated. "In that case, I no longer need to worry about Dumbledore sniffing out your secrets."
"Listen carefully, Lycos. We're heading for Britain. Quirrell will place you in an orphanage... and when you receive your Hogwarts letter by owl, your path begins."
Then, seemingly struck by a new thought, Voldemort suddenly seized control of Quirrell's body and raised a wand at Lycos.
"Hold out your left arm, Lycos."
In the dream, Lycos couldn't resist. His left arm extended of its own accord.
He felt the chill of a wand tip press against the inside of his forearm.
"This Dark Mark will remind you: you are a Death Eater first... and a Hogwarts student second. Understood?!"
---
"AH—!"
Lycos bolted upright, gasping from the nightmare.
His left forearm throbbed faintly with pain. The memory of the dream-branding was still vivid in his mind.
He looked down. The bandage over his Dark Mark was intact—the butterfly knot tied by Cassandra, the golden-haired witch, still neat and secure.
Lycos exhaled a long breath.
He was certain now: the dream wasn't fiction—it was a memory. A recovered imprint buried deep within this body's subconscious.
Which meant... he had met Voldemort in the Albanian forest years ago. Under the Dark Lord's tutelage, he had already learned numerous Dark spells.
That explained everything.
No wonder he could cast the Killing Curse with full potency. It wasn't a fluke—it was muscle memory.
Lycos's eyes suddenly lit up.
That must mean... he could cast more than just Avada Kedavra. There had to be many more spells, buried and waiting.
He leapt to his feet, eager to find somewhere to test them out.
Just then, across the dormitory, Draco sat up groggily in bed.
"Lycos... What time's our first class?"
He raised his fancy watch and squinted at the face. "Er... it's 8:40…"
Their eyes met.
A beat of silence.
"Oh no—we're late!"