On a June morning, a thin veil of mist drifted across the surface of Lake Windermere in England.
The air, already damp, now carried an unmistakable chill.
At the center of the lake, hidden from ordinary eyes, lay a small island protected by powerful magic.
It was called Nording Island.
This was the ancestral territory of one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain’s magical world—the Ambrosius family, whose bloodline had lived here for generations.
At that moment, a gaunt wizard clad in black robes stood atop the head of a serpent formed from flowing water.
His pale, eerie face remained expressionless as he gazed across the lake.
One hand moved through empty air as though feeling something invisible.
His crimson eyes held a trace of admiration, but far more contempt.
“An ancient magical barrier…
truly powerful and exquisitely crafted.
But after so many years, time has long since eroded your strength.
You’re nothing more than an old man in the twilight of his life.”
With his long, pale fingers, the black-robed wizard slowly drew his wand.
Invisible magical power surged around him as the tip of his thirteen-inch yew wand released a sickly green light.
It repeatedly slammed against the barrier protecting Nording Island, producing an earsplitting roar.
The assault continued for nearly five minutes.
Hairline cracks, like shattered glass, gradually spread across the once-transparent barrier.
The scarlet glow in the wizard’s eyes deepened.
With a low shout, the barrier finally shattered.
A circular opening nearly two meters wide appeared before him.
Through it stood an ancient yet magnificent castle at the heart of the island.
It was the Ambrosius family’s ancestral castle—Star Castle.
Despite its enormous size, only four members of the family remained inside.
The aging patriarch, Philin Ambrosius.
His eldest son, Yogar Ambrosius, and Yogar’s wife, Jorina Ambrosius.
And their newborn son, Adrian Ambrosius Ambrosius.
As the continuation of the family’s already dwindling bloodline, Adrian Ambrosius’s birth had brought immense joy to the household.
Today should have been a festive celebration marking his first full month of life.
Instead, an inescapable shadow had fallen over the family.
The four sat around the long table in the grand hall.
Jorina silently held the sleeping Adrian Ambrosius in her arms while her husband sat beside her with his eyes closed, as though sensing something beyond the castle walls.
Moments later, Yogar slowly opened his eyes.
His voice was dry and heavy.
“Father…
he’s broken through our barrier.”
Philin’s beard had already begun to turn white, shimmering with a faint golden glow beneath the brilliant lights of the hall.
“I know.”
He slowly rose from his finely crafted chair and stared into the empty air ahead.
“The day has finally come.”
After a brief pause, he spoke in a deep voice.
“It’s been a long time…
Dark Lord.”
The moment his words fell, the tightly shut doors burst open.
A mass of incomparably evil black mist surged into the hall at astonishing speed.
It stopped before the long table, then slowly condensed into the shape of a man.
“Indeed, Ambrosius.
It has been five years since we last met.”
The cold, unsettling voice sent chills down anyone’s spine.
He was the black-robed wizard who had shattered Nording Island’s magical barrier.
The Dark Lord.
The most terrifying wizard in Britain’s magical world—
Voldemort.
Philin looked calmly at Voldemort and leisurely paced through the magnificent hall as though taking a stroll after dinner, showing not the slightest hint of fear.
“In these five years, your reputation has continued to grow.”
“And your appearance has become…
even less human.”
A cold smile spread across Voldemort’s pale face.
“Whether I resemble a man or a beast is merely the result of delving ever deeper into the Dark Arts.”
His crimson eyes narrowed.
“But you, Ambrosius…”
“Are you still unwilling to hand over what I seek?”
Philin’s expression remained calm.
“I’ve told you many times.”
“First, our family possesses no such inheritance.”
“Second…”
“Even if we did…”
“I would never give it to you.”
The smile on Voldemort’s lips widened, though the chill in his expression only deepened.
His bare feet emerged beneath his long black robes as he slowly wandered through the hall, inspecting everything as though he owned the place.
“The Ambrosius family…”
“It is said you are descendants of the legendary ancient wizard Merlin.”
“That your blood is no longer entirely human.”
“That you possess the oldest magical inheritance in existence.”
“And even…”
“The secret of immortality.”
He sneered.
“And yet your strength is utterly disappointing.”
“You sit atop unimaginable treasures without knowing how to use them.”
“What a waste.”
His gaze shifted toward the infant still wrapped in swaddling clothes.
“So…”
“That’s your family’s only remaining heir.”
“What a pity.”
“You’ve wasted your final chance.”
“You’ve exhausted every last bit of my patience.”
“Today…”
“The Ambrosius family will come to an end by my hand.”
“As for the inheritance you refuse to surrender…”
“I’ll simply take it myself.”
“In your dreams!”
Philin roared.
The two acted almost simultaneously.
A beam of sickly green light burst from Voldemort’s wand—the deadly Killing Curse.
It crashed against Philin’s pale golden magic, forcing it back inch by inch.
The violent collision of their magic shook the entire hall.
Countless priceless ornaments exploded into fragments as the castle trembled.
Despite the desperate battle, Yogar and Jorina did not step forward to help.
Instead, they clasped their hands tightly together, silently preparing something.
Maintaining the spell with one hand, Voldemort slowly advanced.
“How laughable.”
“Years ago, I actually believed you were a truly powerful wizard.”
“But now…”
“You’re nothing more than a useless old man.”
Philin struggled to maintain the clash of magic.
His neatly combed hair had fallen into disarray, and sweat poured from his forehead.
“I may indeed…”
“Be no match for a legendary wizard like you.”
“But the inheritance of the Ambrosius family…”
“…cannot…”
“…and will never…”
“…be destroyed by my own hands.”
Without warning, Philin abandoned the magical struggle entirely.
He allowed Voldemort’s emerald Killing Curse to strike him head-on.
Yet instead of dying immediately, he used his remaining strength to shout,
“Yogar!
Jorina!”
The couple nodded.
Jorina released the infant from her embrace.
Adrian Ambrosius slowly floated into the air, lifted by gentle magic as pale golden light enveloped his tiny body.
Yogar and Jorina’s eyes overflowed with reluctance and love.
But only for a brief moment.
Their hesitation disappeared, replaced by absolute resolve.
Yogar spoke with unwavering determination.
“Dark Lord…”
“No.”
“Voldemort.”
“By my soul…”
“The soul of my wife…”
“And the soul of my father…”
“I swear this oath.”
“You…”
“And your descendants…”
“Your souls shall be cursed for all eternity.”
“You will never obtain the inheritance of our family.”
“You and your followers…”
“Will never again set foot upon this island.”
“And now…”
“Get out!”
The bodies of Philin, Yogar, and Jorina gradually dissolved into countless specks of golden light.
Bit by bit, they merged into Adrian Ambrosius’s body.
Bathed in that comforting warmth, the infant slowly opened his hazy eyes.
A gentle voice whispered beside his ear.
“By Merlin…”
“My child…”
” Adrian Ambrosius Ambrosius…”
“May you grow up healthy.”
“May your days be filled with peace and happiness.”
“May the Ambrosius family endure forever.”
As those words faded, an ancient magical blessing took shape.
Little Adrian Ambrosius opened his mouth.
But he discovered he lacked even the strength to cry.