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Kaecilius quickly tried to cover, his hands shifting the heavy, leather-bound book behind his back. "I've had some insights into my spiritual practice recently," he said, forcing a calm smile. "Influenced by your… academic rigor, Hermione. I simply wanted to read more widely."
Hermione crossed her arms, tilting her head with a sharp, knowing half-smile. "I have no interest in becoming a follower of Dormammu, Kaecilius. So don't try to pin your fan-club reading list on me."
The sorcerer's pupils contracted violently. The polite façade shattered instantly.
He waved his hand in a sharp, complex gesture. The reality of the library—the rows of books, the smell of dust—twisted, folded, and refracted into a kaleidoscope of glass and impossible geometry.
"This is the Mirror Dimension," Kaecilius said, his voice dropping to a cold, resonant baritone. "Nothing here can affect the real world. You are isolated."
A dark, corrupted sigil—the Mark of the Dark Dimension—burned itself onto his forehead, the skin around his eyes darkening as he drew upon his forbidden power. "I have no personal grudge against you, Hermione. I have no wish to make you an enemy. But you have stumbled onto a truth you cannot comprehend. And I cannot let you leave."
He was confident. Bursting with the raw, addictive energy of the Dark Dimension, he felt invincible. He believed that aside from the Ancient One, no mortal could challenge him. He conjured a transparent, razor-sharp blade of spatial energy in his hand and lunged.
Hermione didn't even blink. She didn't weave a mandala. She didn't fold space. She just pulled out her wand.
"Petrificus Totalus."
The Latin incantation was crisp and bored.
Kaecilius, mid-lunge, his face contorted in a scream of triumphant rage, instantly snapped to attention. His arms slapped to his sides, his legs locked together, and he fell forward like a felled tree, his face smacking the crystalline floor with a solid THUD.
"Why do all these sorcerers prefer melee combat?" Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "You have cosmic power, and you try to stab me with a glass shiv? How primitive."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, heavy alchemical hammer. She walked over to the paralyzed sorcerer, whose eyes were wide with panic, darting back and forth.
"You like close combat, huh?" she muttered. "Let's do close combat."
BONK!
She brought the hammer down on his nose.
BONK! BONK!
"You like melee? I'll give you melee! Melee! Melee!"
She proceeded to administer a thorough, rhythmic beating, turning his face black and blue, muttering complaints about "martial artist wizards" with every strike.
When she was satisfied, she stood up and waved her wand. The distorted, beautiful chaos of the Mirror Dimension shattered like cheap glass. SNAP. Reality reasserted itself. They were back in the dusty silence of the library.
Kaecilius, released from the paralysis but reeling from the spell backlash and the physical beating, coughed violently, spitting blood onto the floor. He tried to crawl away, clutching his chest, staring at the small girl in horror.
"You… you…" he gasped, his mind unable to process the defeat. He was drawing power from a Dimension Lord. How had a child with a stick defeated him?
Hermione laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. "What's the matter, great believer of Dormammu? Can't handle a little kinetic energy?"
Kaecilius gritted his teeth, pulling himself into a sitting position. "What is the source of your power?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Where do you borrow it from? Which dimension?"
Hermione rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. She pulled a wrapped apple candy from her pocket, tore it open, and popped it into her mouth. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
"I'm telling you," she mumbled around the candy, "you dimensional mages have zero imagination. It's always 'borrowing.' 'Let's see who can get the biggest loan.' You're all just magical middlemen."
She swallowed the candy. "What, Dormammu tells you, 'Hey kid, download this app, I'll give you free power,' and you actually think it's yours? Don't you know borrowed things have to be returned? Usually with predatory interest rates."
"Impossible!" Kaecilius roared, blood dripping from his chin. "No mortal can generate such power without a source! It violates the laws of nature!"
"I'm different," Hermione said, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm a wizard. I cultivate my own core. I grow my own power. I don't rely on cosmic loan sharks."
She stepped closer, observing the dark purple hue spreading across his face. "And speaking of loan sharks… you should feel it by now. You're injured. You can't make the payments anymore. Dormammu isn't a benevolent god, Kaecilius. He's a repo man. And he's coming for your soul to cover the debt."
Kaecilius's face turned ashen. He felt it—the cold, tearing sensation in his chest. His vitality was draining away into the void. The immortality he sought was actually a slow, agonizing consumption.
"You're right…" he whispered, tears of despair mixing with the blood on his face. "It's pulling me… why? Why can the Ancient One do it? She draws from the Dark Dimension! She has lived for centuries! Why is she unharmed?!"
Hermione looked at him with profound pity mixed with scorn. "Are you stupid? Who is the Ancient One? She's the Sorcerer Supreme. She's a professional deadbeat. She has the power to take the loan and refuse to pay. She scams Dormammu daily. You? You're just a mark."
Kaecilius slumped, the fight draining out of him. He was going to die. A pawn discarded by a god he worshipped.
"I… I don't want to die," he whimpered, his voice barely audible. "I followed him… for eternal life. I just wanted to live forever. To save… to save everyone from time."
Hermione's ears perked up. She walked over to him, squatting down so they were eye level. She smiled, and it was the smile of a devil making a deal at the crossroads.
"Eternal life?" she asked softly. "Why didn't you say so earlier, Uncle Mads? If you wanted immortality, why go to a chaotic entity like Dormammu?"
She leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.
"I can do that. And my interest rates are much more reasonable."