HP: god of potions

Chapter 73

In a completely different dimension, isolated from the current one, five figures sat around a grand table in a room of gold and gleaming metal. The chamber exuded an aura of sophistication and power, with intricate arcane symbols etched into the walls, softly glowing with an ominous light. At the head of the table sat a strikingly beautiful woman in her mid-40s. Her silver hair cascaded elegantly over her shoulders, and her piercing blue eyes radiated authority. She wore robes of high fashion, embroidered with arcane runes that seemed to hum with energy, enhancing both her mind and presence. Her voice was cold and sharp as she spoke. "Well, that was a disaster, Imari Oshima," she said, turning her gaze toward another seated figure.

The woman addressed was a petite warrior of Japanese descent, her long black hair tied back in a meticulously crafted braid. Imari's dark eyes burned with intensity as she glared at the speaker. Her flexible leather armor shimmered faintly with runes of speed and sharpness, and the twin katana strapped to her back carried an aura of lethality. Her tone was biting as she retorted, "Do not speak to me that way, Althea Argyros. If not for your false information about our target, we wouldn't have failed so spectacularly. Not to mention your ill-advised alliance with that noseless snake and those blood bastards—they were worthless. Even that demon Trigon couldn't succeed."

A third figure interjected, his voice smooth yet dripping with disdain. He was a lean man in his 40s, his short-cropped black hair and pale skin giving him an eerie appearance. Scars marred his face, and his predatory grace made him seem like a shadow come to life. He wore unremarkable dark robes, but his presence was anything but forgettable. "Perhaps if you had let the assassin division handle this from the start, we wouldn't be in this mess. We've known who he was since his first year at Hogwarts, anyways, were is viridian?" he said, leaning forward. His tone sharpened. "So, tell me, Althea, why was the decision made to delay?"

Althea's lips curled into a tight, calculating smile as she replied, her voice as smooth as silk. "Probably in his towers, and As I have explained, Cao, according to our master's orders, under no circumstances were we to approach him during his first or second year. The risk of awakening that will was far too great. Especially When it was on high alert, any interference would have jeopardized everything. It was a calculated decision, not a mistake." Her words carried a finality, though the tension in the room remained thick as if the very air resisted her logic.

The final voice to join the discussion was from a tall, elegant woman in her 30s with auburn hair. Her sharp green eyes glinted with malice, though her disarming smile was almost charming. She wore elaborate robes that shimmered and shifted in color, their hue constantly changing like an oil slick under moonlight. "He's becoming a problem," she said, her tone almost casual but carrying a lethal undertone. "His growing reputation is encroaching on our operations, jeopardizing our profits. I recommend an assassination, Althea," she said with a predatory smile. Cao nodded in agreement, his expression expectant.

Althea hesitated for a moment, her calculating demeanor unshaken but her stubbornness evident. She finally relented, her sharp voice cutting through the tension. "Fine. But under no circumstances is he to die. That is what triggers the will. Do you understand?" Her warning was clear and absolute as her icy gaze swept across the room. The others finally nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of frustration and resolve. As they finalized their plans, the air seemed to crackle with their combined power—each one of them a force so overwhelming that even the most formidable foes would crumble in their presence, but that is someone joined them, A tall, broad-shouldered man with glowing green eyes and intricate runic tattoos covering his skin. He has an imposing presence, and he wears enchanted battle robes made of dragonhide, as he said, "now what the hell was so important that i had to leave my tower for" making the woman sight as they all though collectively, "men"

[ month later ]

In the bustling marketplace of Diagon Alley, Gray moved silently among the throngs of witches and wizards, his expressionless face unchanged even after months had passed since the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts. He was shopping for auxiliary materials, his sharp gaze scanning the stalls with precision. As he paused, his eyes were drawn upward to the rooftop of the Leaky Cauldron. Letting out a weary sigh, he muttered, "I'm getting tired of you fuckers." His voice was low, but his frustration was palpable. On the rooftop, a cloaked figure dressed in dark ninja garb watched him intently, their presence hidden from the crowd.

Without warning, Gray vanished from sight, leaving the assassin stunned. The figure instinctively melted into the shadows below, attempting to escape unseen. However, Gray's hand plunged into the darkness, grabbing the assassin with unnerving precision. He hoisted the figure effortlessly, bringing their face close to his. "sch" Gray kissed his teeth in disdain before channeling his star energy into the assassin. The assassin's attempt to become a literal shadow was rendered futile, as the star energy—an antithesis to shadow energy—neutralized every spell. In a moment, the assassin exploded into nothingness. Gray didn't give the incident a second thought, casually resuming his shopping. After gathering the materials he needed, he left the bustling alley and set his sights on a new destination.

Gray's journey took him to the remote hills of Nepal, where a deep, ancient cave awaited him. Within its shadowy depths, Gray stood, holding an arcane potion modified to contain the essence of time—a result of his meticulous study of the time-turner. The fruits of his labor had finally ripened, revealing the secrets of time manipulation. His goal was clear: to rewind time and retrieve the Philosopher's Stone, which Dumbledore had claimed was destroyed. Despite his success, Gray's mood remained dark and somber, an undercurrent of dissatisfaction gnawing at him as he prepared for the next step of his plan, "as for if the ministry of magic detected my magic casting, well, fuck them" that is right, at this he didnt really care, he only had a gaol and he was going to accomplish it, and anybody that gets in his way will have to pay the price.

With careful precision, Gray began inscribing spells onto the cave walls using the glowing, arcane time liquid. The ancient symbols shimmered with an ethereal energy as he chanted in Latin: "Temporis flumen, retrocede. Annos transite, praeteritum revele. Temporis clavis, portas recludite. Fiat iterum quod iam fuit. Tempus, tua lege solvor." Translated, the words echoed with purpose: "Stream of time, flow backward. Pass through the years, reveal the past. Key of time, unlock the gates. Let what once was be again. Time, by your law, I am unbound." As the chant reached its crescendo, the inscriptions on the walls came alive, pulsating with a vibrant green light that bathed the cave in an otherworldly glow.