Isaac saw this scene and felt a trace of pity.
If this were a world where interrupting a spell caused magical backlash, that aborted casting would have definitely been enough to leave the Dark Wizard severely incapacitated.
Unfortunately, such a mechanic does not exist in the world of Harry Potter.
A failed spell, at most, causes a wizard to choke on air or catch their breath wrong.
It just so happened that they were inside a house, and there was no wind to make this Dark Wizard choke.
“You damn Mudblood!”
The Dark Wizard was both humiliated and enraged.
Throwing the bloated baseball bat of a wand aside, he reached under his robes in the very next second and pulled out a backup wand.
“Crucio!”
“Crucio!”
“Crucio!”
The Dark Wizard’s wand fired three consecutive Cruciatus Curses, each jet of light saturated with far more intense negative emotions than the last.
By the third strike, his malice had reached its absolute peak, indicating that his desire to torture Isaac had reached its zenith.
Unfortunately for him, none of the three curses managed to connect.
Every single spell grazed past Isaac’s body by a mere hair’s breadth, blasting forcefully into the wall behind him.
Having evaded the lethal volley in a manner that looked thrillingly narrow, Isaac offered the Dark Wizard a brilliant, mocking smile.
“Not bad~”
At that moment, the Dark Wizard’s already fraying sanity snapped entirely.
His eyes flushed bloodshot, and he leveled his wand directly at Isaac’s chest.
“Avada…”
“Expelliarmus!”
A crimson jet of light erupted from Isaac’s wand, striking the Dark Wizard instantly.
The backup wand, which had just begun to glow with a sickly green light, spun violently out of the wizard’s hand the moment the spell connected, flying straight toward Isaac.
The Disarming Charm was the only intermediate spell Isaac had gone out of his way to master before the start of the term alongside Transfiguration, and it was the absolute foundation of all wizarding duels.
In the original story, the protagonist Harry Potter had practically elevated this spell into a crimson welding torch capable of directly clashing with the Killing Curse.
It was truly a must-have spell for home defense, travel, and visiting relatives.
Isaac naturally appreciated a magic with such a broad range of utility.
At first, he had considered the spell somewhat ordinary, but looking at it now…
when dealing with enemies incapable of wandless magic, Expelliarmus was an absolute cheat code.
For instance, right now, the disarmed Dark Wizard could only stand there and watch helplessly as Isaac prepared his next move.
“Incendio!”
Deprived of his wand, the Dark Wizard lost all sense of security and desperately lunged forward to tackle Isaac.
It was then that he heard the boy call out the incantation for the Fire-Making Spell.
To many, the Fire-Making Spell was considered a children’s trick.
Yet strictly speaking, its destructive potential was actually immense—after all, starting a wildfire could land a person in prison until the end of their days.
The primary limitation of the spell was simply that it possessed numerous counter-curses and suppressing magic.
Whether it was Aguamenti or a standard Flame-Freezing Charm, both provided ample protection, and even a basic Shield Charm could hold it off temporarily.
As long as I can just retrieve my wand…
The Dark Wizard braced himself, expecting the flames to shoot directly at his chest, but he hadn’t anticipated that Isaac would point his wand straight down at the floor.
In the next heartbeat, crimson flames ignited across the floorboards, expanding outward in concentric circles like a localized gas stove.
The final image registered by the Dark Wizard’s eyes was Isaac standing directly at the epicenter of the inferno, grinning up at him.
Judging by the movement of the boy’s lips, he was already chanting a completely different incantation.
What could it possibly be?
“Protego Diabolica!”
The moment the spell structure stabilized, the crimson flames surged violently upward, leaping hungrily toward the mid-air silhouette of the lunging Dark Wizard.
Before he could even react, the intruder was instantly swallowed whole by the raging firestorm.
It wasn’t just the Dark Wizard who suffered; his two discarded wands on the floor, the villa’s elegant furniture, and indeed the entire ground floor of the house were dragged into the absolute destruction of the flames.
“Heh…
haha, hahahahaha!”
Enveloped by the inferno, Isaac completely ignored the blistering ambient temperature.
Standing on the solitary patch of open floorboards that remained untouched by the fire, he laughed wildly.
“Dumbledore, save me!”
The moment his wild laughter subsided, Isaac bellowed for backup without a shred of hesitation.
While standing at the eye of Protego Diabolica protected him from being consumed by his own flames, the spell offered zero protection against the collapsing, burning structural debris of the villa.
Perhaps Grindelwald’s original rendition of the spell possessed an absolute barrier function, but Isaac’s output was merely a youth version of Protego Diabolica.
Even the incantation he used was fundamentally different from Grindelwald’s.
Just as Grindelwald had pointed out, he hadn’t even unlocked the basic academic prerequisites to truly learn the spell.
Being able to crudely manifest a junior variant was already an exceptional feat.
To put it bluntly, while the visual effect of this trick was highly intimidating, it was practically useless against elite wizards who could easily neutralize it with standard counter-spells or termination charms.
The moment Isaac’s call for help left his mouth, Dumbledore materialized beside him with a sharp crack.
The Headmaster extended his wand, though he barely seemed to move it.
“Finite.”
The roaring inferno dissipated instantly, as though it had been wiped clean from reality by an invisible eraser, exposing the charred skeleton of the villa and the dying Dark Wizard collapsed on the floor.
Isaac’s junior version of Protego Diabolica could indeed be unraveled with a simple General Counter-Spell, but this particular intruder obviously lacked the advanced capability to perform wandless magic.
Without a wand to cast a counter-spell, he had no choice but to burn.
The good news: For wizards injured by such ordinary flames, St.
Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries possessed highly mature, effective treatment regimens.
He wouldn’t even require long-term hospitalization; some immediate on-site medical attention would suffice to restore his skin.
The bad news: Even a complete recovery would not grant him his freedom.
He had brazenly assaulted a young wizard directly under Dumbledore’s supervision, and had even resorted to using an Unforgivable Curse.
Azkaban was about to welcome yet another Hogwarts graduate to its cells.
Throwing a party without inviting me, eh?
Guess I’ll just host my own!
As the smoke cleared completely, Dumbledore offered another elegant sweep of his wand toward the scorched walls and shattered ruins of the interior.
The entire villa looked as though time itself were flowing backward; everything that had been incinerated by the fire, shattered by curses, or smashed during the struggle began to assemble themselves perfectly.
Within a matter of seconds, the entire estate was restored from the inside out, looking exactly as it had prior to the conflict.
“Reparo,” Isaac whispered, identifying the spell Dumbledore had utilized.
The exact same charm yielded vastly different realities depending entirely on the wizard casting it.
Isaac, for instance, was completely incapable of manifesting such an industrial, micro-precise restoration across an entire house.
This was the absolute pinnacle of magical proficiency.
Seeing the villa completely restored by Dumbledore’s hand, Isaac let out a quiet sigh of relief.
After all, this property had been loaned to him by Grindelwald for his temporary accommodation; it wouldn’t do to completely demolish another man’s house.
With the immediate structural damage managed, Dumbledore cast a binding jinx over the unconscious Dark Wizard on the floor before finally lowering his wand.
The previous Reparo had intentionally left the intruder’s shattered wands broken; this particular wizard wouldn’t be requiring a wand ever again.
Dumbledore stared down at Isaac, his gaze drifting into a profound silence.
Isaac recognized that look instantly—the Headmaster wasn’t actually looking at him at all.
He was peering directly at a ghost from his past, using Isaac’s small silhouette as a window.
What is this?
Am I just a convenient bridge to his youth?
A temporal post office?
“Isaac…
that spell just now…” When Dumbledore finally broke the silence, his voice carried an underlying hoarseness that even he seemed completely unaware of.
There was no helping it; aside from the distinct coloration of the flames, the spectacle had simply been too familiar.
Isaac’s posture, his magical resonance, and the shadow of Grindelwald were aligned far too perfectly.