The moment Styx stepped into Knockturn Alley the air changed.
Narrower.
Colder.
Thick with damp stone and old mold.
Voices stayed low.
Most people kept their faces buried in hoods or scarves and moved like they had somewhere urgent to be and no desire to be remembered.
Styx, in open Muggle clothes and a head of pure white hair, stood out like a cream cake left on a pile of garbage.
Five dark wizards noticed.
They exchanged looks and fell in behind him without a word.
He felt the tail immediately.
The system agreed.
[Limited-time Quest: Send the worms peeping at the evil god to meet Merlin.] [Reward: 500 Evil God Points, Evil Spirit — Undead Slasher · Jason.] Styx’s mouth curved.
“…Undead Jason.
One of the classic American slashers.
Anti-porn pioneer and devoted son.
Not a bad drop.” He adjusted his pace and led them deeper on purpose.
An old man with a long white beard drifted after the five like a ghost.
None of them noticed.
At a dead end Styx stopped and turned.
The Shadowkhan Mask settled over his face.
“Evening.
You’ve been following me for a while.
Need something?” The biggest of the five gave a short, ugly laugh.
“Idiot.
Walking Knockturn alone in daylight.
Didn’t your family teach you the rules?
Try harder next life.” A thinner wizard beside him rubbed his hands, eyes already wandering.
“Boss… let me use him first before we finish it?” Silence.
Styx.
The other four.
Dumbledore in the shadows.
Great Britain apparently had its own special brand of local talent.
The face under the mask twitched.
Whatever cool villain monologue Styx had planned died on the spot.
Only one thought remained: get these animals off the planet as fast as possible.
“Good.
You’ve successfully killed my interest in conversation.” He snapped his fingers.
Shadows under the five men bloomed outward like ink in water.
Dozens of black-clad Shadowkhan poured up from the ground, the walls, even the wizards’ own silhouettes.
Red eyes.
Joints clicking softly.
They moved like living nightmares.
“What the—” The lead wizard barely raised his wand before a Shadowkhan backhanded him hard enough to stagger him, then seized his forearm and snapped it clean.
Bone punched through skin.
The wand clattered away.
The scream that followed was pure and high.
A second wizard tried to run.
The shadow under his feet turned to tar and locked his legs.
Magic died in his veins.
The thin one managed a panicked spell that punched through one Shadowkhan.
It dissolved into black smoke—then another rose from his own shadow and clamped a cold hand over his mouth.
Less than ten seconds.
All five were pinned.
Wands kicked aside.
At least two Shadowkhan on each body.
The thin wizard received special attention.
One Shadowkhan crouched on his chest, mask almost touching his nose, until his eyes rolled back and he fainted.
Styx clapped once.
The tension under the mask eased.
“Wake him.” Two Shadowkhan hauled the man upright.
A third drove a knee straight between his legs.
The sound that came out was not human.
Everyone present—including the headmaster still hidden—flinched a little.
Styx muttered under the mask, “Good thing I’m wearing this.
Persona would be wrecked.” He made a quiet mental note to train the Shadowkhan out of cheap shots later.
Ambush was fine.
Groin strikes made it hard not to laugh mid-fight.
The thin wizard came to just in time for Styx to plant a solid kick in his ribs and send him flat again.
“Wanted to use me first, huh?” “Kill me after, huh?” “Did you even offer to pay?” He turned to the remaining four.
The big one waved his unbroken hand frantically.
“We didn’t think that!
Don’t hit us for what he said!” Styx was already done talking.
The Shadowkhan finished the job.
Quest complete.
He was reaching for the new Evil Spirit card when movement at the far end of the alley caught his eye.
An old man in deep purple robes walked forward at an unhurried pace.
White beard to the waist.
Half-moon glasses.
Kind eyes, as if the five cooling bodies on the ground were nothing more than a mildly interesting street performance.
Styx went still.
He had never sensed the man.
The Shadowkhan had given no warning at all.
Dumbledore stopped a polite distance away and smiled.
“Good evening.” A soft pause.
“I was debating whether to intervene.
It seems I was overthinking.” Styx pulled in a slow breath and answered carefully.
“Good evening, Mr.
Dumbledore.
An honor.” “Oh?
You know me.
How pleasant.” Dumbledore glanced down at the bodies, lingered a moment on the thin one, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Although… that gentleman’s hobbies were rather unfortunate.” Styx gave the corpse another short kick.
“Don’t start.
I wasn’t planning to kill anyone tonight.
That one was just too disgusting.” Dumbledore’s expression flickered with brief embarrassment before the calm returned.
“Forgive my curiosity,” Styx said.
“Why are you here?” “Actually, I’ve been aware of you since the moment you first looked at Harry.” The smile stayed gentle.
“A strange young wizard appearing near the boy… you will understand if I felt uneasy.” Styx stared.
“Stalking a wizard is still a bad habit.” “Stalking is such an ugly word.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.
“I prefer ‘accidental attention to an interesting young man,’ Mr.
Styx.” Styx kept his face neutral.
You already investigated me, old man.
Dumbledore continued as if the silence were agreement.
“As an apology of sorts… would you be willing to teach at Hogwarts?
We are creating a new practical Dark Arts class.
I wonder if the post might interest you.” Joy flared behind Styx’s ribs.
He kept it off his face.
“Isn’t that a little sudden?
Hogwarts already has Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Overlap?” “Not at all.
We intend the existing class to become largely theoretical.
The practical side…” Dumbledore’s gaze flicked to the fading shadows.
“Those soldiers of yours are magic I have never seen.
Quite brilliant.
Quite powerful.” “I created it myself,” Styx said without a single blush.
The headmaster’s eyes brightened the way they did when he met another inventor of magic.
“Outstanding.
I believe you would flourish at Hogwarts.
Will you join us?” Styx barely hesitated.
“Of course.
I’ve been looking for a stable post.” Dumbledore’s smile turned satisfied.
“Wise.
The details can wait for Professor McGonagall once you arrive.
You may return with me now, or make your own way before the first of September—” “I’ll go with you.” Styx’s own smile was easy.
“I haven’t eaten.
I’d like to sample the faculty table first.” “Trust me.
You will be satisfied.” Dumbledore rested light fingers on Styx’s shoulder.
“Apparition.”