Chapter 149: Magical Creature Transfiguration, Harry the Human Cannonball
When the glow of Transfiguration faded, Voldemort's expression froze.
An adult Norwegian Ridgeback loomed where the worktable had been, its wood and metal torn apart and remade into living flesh.
Spines along its back sliced the scorched air. Its black wings spread wide, casting a vast shadow, and a faint sulphurous reek curled from its pale muzzle.
Voldemort's scarlet pupils contracted. "Impossible…"
He had seen advanced Transfiguration before, but never on a magical creature.
Because of the differences and mutual repulsion between magical pathways, wizards were supposed to be incapable of constructing a magical creature's pathways from scratch. Magical‑creature Transfiguration was impossible.
Those who tried either birthed twisted abominations, or turned themselves into monsters.
How could a first‑year have stepped into such forbidden territory?
Leonardo laid a hand on the dragon's hide, and joy flickered in his eyes.
The system's chime had already told him the attempt was a success.
To repay Loki's Faceless loan, he needed to master Transfiguration fully. On top of existing knowledge, he had to open a new branch.
The answer he handed in was magical‑creature Transfiguration.
The great wall that barred wizards from this field was the magical pathway.
Repairing little Aurora's pathways had been the first real step onto that road.
Once the first step was taken, the direction had become clear.
A year of study and accumulation had let that seed of talent sprout, root, and grow, until it finally bore fruit.
"Leonardo, have you forgotten my lesson on the mutual repulsion of magical pathways?" Voldemort drawled, the corner of his lip curling.
Transfigure a Norwegian Ridgeback?
It was just a shell.
No matter how convincing a Transfiguration was, it could never truly copy a bloodline's pathways.
The next second, Voldemort's eyes narrowed again.
The dragon opened its jaws. No normal fire billowed within. Instead, countless phantom runes whirled and knotted like living things.
In a flash, what burst out was not simple flame but a dark red torrent of dragonfire, wrapped in those shattering sigils. Like molten rock, it surged toward Voldemort.
Air vanished. Wherever the breath passed, his layered protections began to unravel on their own.
"Leonardo, er… should I be doing something right now?" Harry asked.
Aurelius had carried him over. The ropes were gone, burned away by cleansing fire.
Watching Leonardo and Voldemort's magical fireworks, Harry felt there was no room for him to intervene, but standing around felt wrong. Hence the question.
Leonardo flicked his wand, casting several Seamless Extension Charms in quick succession, stretching the room to many times its former size and leaving the dragon and Voldemort plenty of space to clash.
Watching the beast fight really was entertaining.
No wonder some people dreamed of becoming magical pet trainers.
At Harry's question, Leonardo glanced over.
The boy was only a little dusty from rolling on the floor. One temple of his glasses was crooked. Otherwise, he was completely unharmed.
Tonight's experiments were almost done. He had tested his level, completed magical‑creature Transfiguration…
"All right. Stand still," Leonardo said.
Harry straightened automatically. Leonardo stepped up and tapped him in a few quick points with his wand.
"Head Hardening Charm."
"Pain‑Go‑Away."
"Shielding Charm."
"…"
"Two‑Point Pull."
At the last incantation, a bead of light stuck itself to Harry's chest. Leonardo swished his wand again and sent its twin streaking toward Voldemort.
Voldemort had just seized on an opening. In the end, it was still just a magical beast, and a conjured one at that. Its wits were not high enough. He was readying a curse to finish it in one blow when a glowing sigil slapped onto his own chest.
"Harry, to me."
At Leonardo's soft command, Harry went airborne.
Red‑gold cleansing flame wrapped his body, but he only felt a gentle warmth.
Under Leonardo's control, Harry struck a Superman pose and shot straight at Voldemort.
The red‑gold blaze streamed behind him like a cloak.
Voldemort had no idea what was happening, but his instincts screamed, and he jerked aside.
Harry's fist missed his face by a hair.
Voldemort had just begun to relax when the glow on his chest flared.
Harry's flight path twisted sharply. Leonardo swung him like a flail. Harry's body whipped around and his leg smashed into Voldemort's chest, sending him sprawling.
"Ah!"
Smoke hissed from Voldemort's chest. Blisters blossomed on the exposed skin.
Agony tore at his soul. He screamed and could not even strike back for a moment.
The next instant, Harry slammed into him full‑body.
Soft light spilled from Harry's skin, and to Voldemort it was torture.
The cloak of fire around him folded over them both. Harry felt nothing. Voldemort felt as if he had been plunged into molten rock again.
He tried to wrench his wand arm free, to cast something—anything.
"Blood‑Scored Severing," Leonardo snapped.
A crimson blade of light lanced from his wand and sliced off Voldemort's hand.
Voldemort turned his twisted gaze on Leonardo. "Using my own magic against me?!"
Leonardo met his eyes calmly. It was, at least, a small revenge for Seleneia and the others.
Whooo—
A chill, malign wind rose, briefly smothering the heat.
Voldemort cursed Quirrell's soul and set it ablaze, buying himself a sliver of escape.
A lump of icy black mist tore free of Quirrell's skull and shot toward the ceiling.
Leonardo fired off a spell more out of form than hope. Without destroying the Horcruxes, he could not truly hold Voldemort.
The cloud forced its way through a layer of cleansing flame, thinned, and vanished into the stone.
Leonardo walked toward Harry and Quirrell. The flames peeled back to open a path.
He flicked his wand and separated them. Harry lay unconscious, likely stunned by the clash of souls.
Quirrell…
His breath grew fainter. His chest rose and fell more shallowly with every second.
His face, though, was oddly dazed. His eyes were unfocused.
With effort, he managed to shift his gaze toward Leonardo. His lips moved.
After Voldemort had taken him, Quirrell had nursed dark thoughts and done dark deeds.
Only when Voldemort's soul tore free did he truly wake and understand what he had gone through, what he had chosen.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but in the end, only managed one sentence.
"Just my luck. Should never have gone into those woods."