Although Dumbledore had already witnessed several unfamiliar forms of magic outside the tower, stepping through its entrance still filled the century-old wizard with a rare sense of wonder.
From the outside, the structure appeared to be an ordinary stone tower covering barely a thousand square feet.
Beyond its front door, however, lay an enormous palace-like hall that should have been physically impossible to contain within the building.
A soft Persian carpet covered the floor, while dozens of glowing orbs floated beneath the high ceiling and bathed the chamber in gentle white light.
Two spiral staircases curved toward the upper floors, and several dark doorways shimmered along the walls, each seemingly leading into an entirely different space.
Dumbledore studied the hall through his half-moon spectacles.
An Undetectable Extension Charm?
He quickly dismissed that possibility.
An Extension Charm merely enlarged the space within an object, but the structure surrounding him felt remarkably stable.
The hall possessed its own spatial laws, almost as though it existed in an independent dimension.
It reminded him of the mysterious room he had once discovered at Hogwarts during a late-night walk—a chamber that only appeared when someone truly needed it.
Dumbledore’s evaluation of the tower’s owner rose considerably.
Whoever had constructed this place possessed magical knowledge that rivaled, and perhaps even surpassed, that of many accomplished British wizards.
“Please have a seat, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Leon said, giving his hand a casual wave.
An elegant velvet armchair slid across the floor and stopped behind the elderly wizard.
A faint, translucent humanoid figure then floated into the hall carrying a silver tray with two cups of steaming blue liquid.
“An Unseen Servant,” Leon explained as the spectral attendant placed the drinks on a nearby table.
“It has no physical body, so you don’t have to worry about finding hair in your cup.
The drink is one of my own creations.
It helps restore mental focus after extended spellcasting.” Dumbledore accepted the cup and examined the unusual liquid before taking a cautious sip.
A refreshing magical sensation spread through his mind, sharpening his thoughts almost immediately.
“Remarkable craftsmanship,” he said sincerely.
His bright blue eyes settled on the young man sitting across from him.
The scrutiny behind that gentle gaze was subtle, but Leon could still feel it.
“You appear to be no older than thirty,” Dumbledore continued.
“Please forgive my curiosity, but I don’t recall seeing your name in the records of any recognized school of magic.” Leon had already dismissed the layers of defensive spells surrounding his body.
After recovering from his initial shock, he had used everything he knew to analyze the situation.
The monsters in this world were generally weaker than those described by the D&D Panel, and although magic existed everywhere, Leon had never been able to connect with the magical network he expected to find.
Now, a spellcaster estimated to be above level fifteen had introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore.
There was no longer any room for doubt.
This was the world of Harry Potter.
Since that was the case, Leon needed to establish an identity that was mysterious enough to explain his unusual abilities while discouraging unnecessary investigation.
“A name is little more than a label,” Leon replied calmly.
“You may call me Leon Cromwell.” Dumbledore waited patiently for him to continue.
“As for my magical lineage, my mentor was a woman named Mystra.” Leon paused as the image of the Lady of Mysteries crossed his mind.
“She preferred isolation and rarely involved herself with the outside world, so I doubt you’ve heard of her.” “Mystra…” Dumbledore searched through his extensive memory, but the name did not belong to any witch, scholar, or magical family he recognized.
“It appears the magical world is even larger than I imagined,” he said without pressing the subject.
After a brief exchange of polite conversation, the atmosphere inside the hall gradually became more serious.
Dumbledore placed his cup on the table and casually observed the surrounding furnishings.
“Mr.
Cromwell, judging by the condition of this tower, I assume you have lived in this part of the Albanian forest for quite some time.” “For a very long time,” Leon answered with a weary sigh.
“It has been ten years.” If he had known from the beginning that he had entered the Harry Potter universe, he would never have wasted an entire decade grinding monsters in the middle of Albania.
“Ten years?” Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened for a fraction of a second.
The timing was far too significant to ignore.
Ten years earlier, Voldemort had lost his body after attempting to murder Harry Potter in Godric’s Hollow.
The Dark Lord’s shattered spirit had later fled to the forests of Albania, where he survived by possessing small animals and other vulnerable creatures.
Dumbledore stared directly into Leon’s eyes.
His tone remained calm, but the invisible pressure surrounding him grew noticeably heavier.
“Since you have lived here for so long, there is something I would like to confirm.
During the past decade, have you encountered a shadow-like creature in this forest?” Leon remained silent as Dumbledore continued.
“I am referring to a bodiless exile with a deeply corrupted presence—something capable of possessing animals or weakened humans.” A shadowy creature?
Possession?
An exile hiding in the Albanian forest?
Memories of the Harry Potter books and movies he had encountered in his previous life suddenly surfaced.
The clues connected in Leon’s mind, and a horrifying realization struck him.
If this was truly Albania, then the disembodied creature Dumbledore was searching for could only be Voldemort after the destruction of his physical body.
Leon slowly remembered what he had spent most of the last ten years doing.
He had repeatedly killed a small monster identified by the D&D Panel as a [Demigod Lich].
His mouth twitched.
The creature he had blasted around the forest with [Magic Missile], stunned with [Shatter], trapped behind barriers, and destroyed whenever it tried to flee had been Voldemort?
That miserable little monster had been the Dark Lord whose name terrified nearly the entire British wizarding population?
Dumbledore noticed the change in Leon’s expression.
His fingers tightened slightly around the handle of his cup.
“It appears you have seen him,” he said carefully.
“Did he harm you in any way?” “I did encounter something like that,” Leon admitted, rubbing his temple.
There was no reason to lie, especially when Dumbledore was clearly investigating Voldemort’s whereabouts.
“I first discovered it shortly after arriving here ten years ago.” Dumbledore leaned forward slightly.
“The creature was strangely difficult to destroy permanently,” Leon explained.
“Whenever I dispersed it with magic, it reconstructed itself after a while and returned to the same general area.” “And what did you do after discovering that?” Dumbledore asked.
“I used it as an experimental subject.” Leon gave a small shrug, as if discussing an ordinary training dummy.
“Over the last ten years, I probably killed it several thousand times.
I never kept an exact count, but I usually destroyed it once a day.
Sometimes I did it more often when I was frustrated and needed to test a new spell.” Dumbledore stared at him without speaking.
“Last summer, the creature finally seemed to reach its limit,” Leon continued.
“It possessed a human traveler while I was asleep and escaped from the forest.
I haven’t seen it since.” He sighed with genuine regret.
“It was an excellent target.
Finding another creature that can revive so consistently will be difficult.” The entire hall fell silent.
Dumbledore’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly around his teacup.
Several thousand times.
The young wizard sitting across from him had used Lord Voldemort as a practice target and destroyed him thousands of times over the course of a decade.
Dumbledore had experienced war, faced Grindelwald at the height of his power, and witnessed forms of magic that would break the courage of most ordinary wizards.
Even so, Leon’s casual explanation left him momentarily speechless.
It also answered several troubling questions.
When Voldemort returned to Britain the previous year, his spirit had been unusually weak, unstable, and desperate.
His behavior had seemed even more irrational than before his fall.
Now Dumbledore understood why.
Any mind forced to endure ten years of daily magical destruction would eventually collapse.
Voldemort had not merely hidden in Albania—he had spent a decade trapped in a private purgatory created by a wizard who thought he was farming a respawning monster.
Despite his shock, Dumbledore felt a considerable burden lift from his shoulders.
One thing was now certain: the mysterious tower master was not Voldemort’s ally.
“Ahem.” Dumbledore cleared his throat and carefully restored his familiar smile.
“I originally feared that the creature might have harmed innocent people in this region.
It seems my concern was unnecessary.” He set the cup aside and rose from his chair.
“Mr.
Cromwell, now that your experimental subject has escaped, would you be interested in changing your surroundings?” Leon raised an eyebrow but allowed him to continue.
“Hogwarts is currently searching for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” Dumbledore explained.
“Our previous professor, Quirinus Quirrell, was the unfortunate man possessed by the shadow you described.
He died at the end of the last school year.” Dumbledore’s expression turned serious.
“We require someone with genuine knowledge of dangerous magic.
After what I have seen today, I believe you are more qualified than almost anyone else I could approach.” “A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” Leon leaned back in his chair and considered the offer.
He knew the reputation of the position.
Hogwarts itself remained standing year after year, but the professors responsible for teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts rarely lasted longer than a single term.
Voldemort had cursed the post after Dumbledore refused to hire him.
However, the creator of that curse had spent nine years being treated like a low-level monster by Leon.
After enduring thousands of magical deaths, Voldemort’s curse did not seem nearly as threatening.
More importantly, Hogwarts offered Leon something he desperately needed.
Killing monsters might have carried him to level eleven, but simple combat would never be enough to reach the legendary levels beyond twenty.
He needed to study the magical laws of this world, compare them with D&D spellcraft, and acquire knowledge unavailable within his isolated forest.
Hogwarts possessed one of the largest magical libraries in Britain.
“I have two conditions,” Leon said, raising two fingers.
“Please continue,” Dumbledore replied.
“First, I want unrestricted access to every section of the Hogwarts library, including the Restricted Section.
Your world’s magical system is unfamiliar to me, and I intend to study it thoroughly.” Dumbledore gave a slow nod.
“Second, I expect a generous salary.” Leon gestured toward the expensive equipment scattered throughout the laboratory.
“Arcane research consumes an unreasonable amount of money.
I would prefer not to rob a bank simply because I need several diamonds as spell components.” “A perfectly reasonable request.” A faintly amused gleam appeared in Dumbledore’s eyes.
“Hogwarts has always respected scholars who pursue knowledge.
As for the salary, I cannot promise that you will earn as much as a senior Gringotts executive, but I believe you will find the compensation satisfactory.” Leon and Dumbledore exchanged knowing smiles.
The agreement had been reached.
Before preparing to leave, Dumbledore glanced at Leon’s empty hands.
He had watched the young man activate several complicated spells without once reaching for a wand.
“Forgive me for asking another question, Leon, but your magical tradition appears to have completely abandoned wands as casting tools.
Wandless magic exists in our world, but using it for every spell is exceptionally rare.” “A wand?” Leon chuckled and raised one hand.
“In my tradition, magic is not created by the piece of wood held by a spellcaster.
A wand may help stabilize magical output, but relying on one too heavily can also become a limitation.” His fingers moved slightly.
A small, intricate geometric structure appeared above his palm.
Lines of blue arcane energy intersected in countless complex patterns, briefly forming a complete spell model before fading from sight.
“I engrave the structure of each spell into my mind,” Leon explained.
“My body serves as the vessel, my will guides the energy, and the prepared formula shapes the final effect.
For me, that method is far more dependable than relying on an external focus.” Dumbledore studied the fading arcane pattern with undisguised fascination.
“That is a remarkable approach to spellcasting.
When we have more time, I would be grateful for the opportunity to discuss these spell models with you.” “Of course,” Leon replied.
“I am equally interested in learning how your wands interact with magic.” Dumbledore stood and straightened his purple robes.
“In that case, we should leave.
The new school year begins in one month, and you will need time to obtain appropriate supplies.
Our first destination will be London.” “Give me a moment to pack.” Leon turned toward the laboratory filled with bookshelves, alchemical instruments, enchanted tools, and several heavy experimental tables.
For the past ten years, he had prepared for the possibility of abandoning the tower at a moment’s notice.
Every valuable object had already been treated with stabilizing enchantments, allowing him to reduce its size whenever necessary.
Leon raised one hand.
“[Shrink Item].” Blue light swept through the laboratory.
The massive experimental tables, towering bookshelves, complicated instruments, and even the expensive carpet rapidly collapsed inward.
Within seconds, several tons of equipment had transformed into a collection of small cloth-like objects no larger than his palm.
Leon gathered the shrunken items, slipped them into his robe, and dusted off his hands.
“All right.
I’m ready.” Dumbledore watched the entire process in silence, though his eyebrows rose noticeably higher.
The effortless transmutation and compression of so many objects forced him to revise his estimation of Leon’s abilities once again.
The young wizard continued displaying techniques that did not belong to any branch of magic Dumbledore recognized.
“Take my arm,” Dumbledore said as he extended his left hand.
“We will travel by Apparition.
You may experience a small amount of discomfort.” Leon stared at the offered arm and frowned.
He remembered how Apparition had been described in the Harry Potter books.
The process felt like being forced through an impossibly narrow rubber tube while every part of the body was compressed at once.
Compared with that, his own [Teleport] spell was a first-class luxury flight.
Unfortunately, teleportation required a reliable understanding of the destination.
Since Leon had never visited London, he could not safely travel there on his own.
Suppressing a complaint, he reluctantly grasped Dumbledore’s arm.
A sharp crack echoed through the empty tower.
Space twisted around them, their bodies stretched into distorted shadows, and both wizards vanished.