Seeing its claw chopped off so easily by that sword, Echidna panicked at once.
So much for good luck, so much for a change of fate—deep down, it was still an unlucky demon.
Damn it. It had finally made it to Earth. As long as it had been given a little time to grow, it could have devoured souls and become truly powerful. So why did it have to run into these two damned human sorcerers the moment it arrived?
Echidna immediately changed its mind. It gave up on killing the two mysterious sorcerers and tried to run—but it had no idea it was trapped inside the Mirror Dimension. There was no escape.
After severing Echidna's claw, Harry only got more fired up. A faint red glint flashed in his eyes—that was what happened when he pushed his power to its limit.
His chaos magic was inexhaustible. He summoned another Sacred Sword of the Vishanti and charged straight at Echidna again.
He also knew defensive spells, like the commonly used Crimson Rings of Raggadorr, but he didn't like using them.
He'd once stumbled across a line in an old tome that he really loved: the best defence is a good offence.
One side was burning with battle lust, the other just wanted to run, and there was a gap in strength between them to begin with. After only a few minutes, Harry had carved Echidna up until it was covered in wounds.
Finally, he dispelled the golden sword still buried in Echidna's skull and let out a long, satisfied breath.
A high-ranking demon really wasn't that tough. If he used something like the Crimson Necklace of Cyttorak, he was pretty sure he could fight a whole crowd of high-ranking demons all day.
Watching Harry casually take down a high-ranking demon, Wong's expression grew complicated. He himself had needed more than ten years of study to reach this level, and Harry had only actually been studying for about two and a half years—five of those seven years had been spent just learning to calm and stabilise that absurdly powerful magic of his.
But unlike Kaecilius, Wong wasn't narrow-minded. He didn't resent Harry for being favoured by the Sorcerer Supreme, and he didn't envy his rapid growth.
He was simply, sincerely happy for him.
Wong clapped Harry on the shoulder, a genuine grin squeezing across his broad, heavy features. "Nicely done, Harry."
Once the demon was dealt with, they opened a portal back to Kamar-Taj to report to the Sorcerer Supreme—
Leaving behind a few occult enthusiasts who had been scared stupid and were now questioning reality.
…
Back at Kamar-Taj, the Sorcerer Supreme praised Harry and told him he was now ready to learn even more powerful spells.
She also said his knowledge was already sufficient for him to start creating his own magic. After all, even if the spells that drew power from specific dimensions could be modified for Harry's use, they would never truly show the full potential of chaos magic.
Harry took her words to heart—and he already had an answer in mind.
Thanks to magic strengthening his brain, his memory was astonishing.
He could still vaguely remember a green beam of light he'd seen when he was very young—a beam that carried terrifying power.
With enough experimentation, he was soon able to reproduce a spell that fired that same kind of green light.
Now… what should he call it?
Avada Gnaw-da-Melon. Yeah, that's the one.
Harry had long since learned how to open portals, but because his chaos magic was so unstable, the portals themselves weren't very reliable.
When his chaos magic fluctuated, the portal would often destabilise and collapse immediately.
To avoid getting himself killed by his own magic, Harry rarely used portals. Most of the time, he just walked.
When he returned to 20 Ingram Street in Queens, Uncle Ben, Aunt May and Peter were already asleep.
Harry, of course, didn't wake them. He leapt lightly up to the second floor, opened the window and started to climb inside.
The moment he stepped through, however, everything suddenly changed.
Night became day in an instant. His spacious bedroom vanished, replaced by a cramped hallway.
Even after more than seven years, Harry still recognised that hallway.
This was… the Dursleys' hallway.
He was back.
Harry looked down at himself. He was wearing a shabby, oversized grey T-shirt—he remembered it clearly. It was one of Dudley's old cast-offs.
Dudley was so fat that when Harry wore the shirt, it looked more like a dress than anything else.
Then Harry noticed his own hands—and realised, with a jolt, that his body had reverted to the way it had been when he was eleven.
Back then, he'd been small and scrawny, barely one metre twenty. His frail little frame was nothing at all like the tall, handsome young man he'd grown into seven years later.
The realisation terrified him.
Could it be that everything before this had just been a dream?
No. No, no, no.
Uncle Ben, Aunt May, Peter, the Sorcerer Supreme, Wong, Gwen…
Every one of them mattered to him. He couldn't bear to lose any of them.
Suddenly, something occurred to him. Following the Sorcerer Supreme's teachings, he traced glowing runes in the air. Golden sigils blossomed before him, weaving into a matrix—and once again, he reached in and drew out the Sacred Sword of the Vishanti.
Harry let out a heavy sigh of relief.
Good. It wasn't a dream.
As long as it wasn't a dream, there had to be a way to go back. Maybe it would just take some time.
From the kitchen came Aunt Petunia's shrill voice.
"There you are, our little birthday boy! Happy birthday, son!"
A brilliant smile tugged at Harry's lips.
Wow, it really had been a long time since he'd seen his beloved Dursley family.
He'd missed them so much.
He probed the magic inside him. It was just as vast and limitless as in the other world—endless chaos magic surging within him. The only difference seemed to be that, in this world, he could access less of it at once.
Maybe… thirty percent?
Even so, it was more than enough. And it wasn't all bad, either—his magic actually felt more stable here.
Harry took off his glasses. A dazzling gold light flickered in his eyes, and when it faded, his vision was razor sharp once more.
Using magic to reinforce his body—aside from telekinesis, this was one of the best ways to make use of chaos magic.
He kept the magic flowing through his body at all times, strengthening it and helping this world's frail version of him recover as quickly as possible.
He really couldn't stand how weak this body felt. As for the magic it cost him—compared to the total amount of power he held, it didn't even qualify as a drop in the bucket.
He pushed open the grimy door and stepped into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was there, showering Dudley's pig-like head with birthday wishes.
Her face was gentle and full of fondness; she looked so kind.
Her attitude toward Dudley was what Harry had always envied most when he was younger—but now, he didn't envy him at all.
He had that kind of love too. He was cherished now as well.
When Aunt Petunia saw Harry walk in, her expression flipped in an instant. She snapped,
"Hurry up and make breakfast. And don't you dare burn anything!"
But to the Dursley family's surprise, Harry acted as if he hadn't heard a word. He strolled leisurely over to the table, sat down next to Vernon, poured himself a glass of juice and took a long, satisfied drink.