Marvel's Hogwarts Professor

Night, New York Sanctum

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Urgent footsteps echoed through the corridor as a young sorcerer in a saffron robe hurried toward the main hall. Master Kaecilius was engaged in conversation with an elderly sorcerer seated against the wall, their hands moving in the intricate patterns of magical discourse.

Upon recognizing Kaecilius's companion, the young sorcerer involuntarily slowed his pace and lowered his head deferentially, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features. The elderly man was none other than Byron, Elder of the Enforcers of Kamar Taj.

The Enforcers held a unique position within the mystical order, responsible for the judgment and punishment of sorcerers who violated their sacred laws. Many had been imprisoned or subjected to magical torments under their authority. Byron, in particular, was renowned for his uncompromising severity. Every sorcerer who had faced his judgment had committed grievous transgressions. Most had their magical abilities permanently revoked; others were executed outright.

Among Kamar Taj's practitioners, an encounter with Master Byron was considered an ill omen. Even the innocent might not emerge unscathed.

Byron seemed to notice the young sorcerer's urgency and politely withdrew from his conversation with Kaecilius, creating space for the interruption.

"What is it, Victor?" Kaecilius inquired, turning his attention to the young man.

Victor glanced nervously at Byron before stepping closer to Kaecilius and whispering in his ear.

"We've detected a substantial energy signature matching the Twilight God. It appears to be the work of David and the other fallen sorcerers."

He continued speaking in hushed tones, and with each word, Kaecilius's expression grew more troubled. After a moment, he turned to Byron.

"Elder Byron, we may have located traces of the individuals we were just discussing."

Then, addressing Victor, he instructed: "Please inform Master Lockhart immediately. Elder Byron and I will proceed to the location."

Victor nodded sharply and departed with renewed urgency.

Byron's momentary surprise gave way to a gleam of lethal intent in his eyes. He had been discussing the renegade sorcerer David with Kaecilius—a traitor who had not only attacked the Hong Kong Sanctum but also led the largest defection in the history of Kamar Taj, taking numerous Masters with him.

The incident had nearly cost Byron his position as Enforcement Elder. He needed to rectify this failure, capture the fallen sorcerers, and provide Kamar Taj with the justice it demanded. This was why he had been traveling between the three Sanctums, requesting vigilance from every sorcerer he trusted.

The New York Sanctum was the second he had visited. That his inquiries would bear fruit so quickly was unexpected but welcome.

Kaecilius raised his arm, the golden Sling Ring on his fingers glinting in the dim light as he traced a circular pattern in the air. A portal rimmed with amber sparks materialized before them, revealing an abandoned factory on the other side. Several sorcerers in saffron robes could be seen conducting a methodical search of the premises.

Without hesitation, Kaecilius stepped through the portal, followed closely by Byron.

As soon as Byron crossed the threshold, he closed his eyes and extended his mystical senses, attempting to encompass the entire abandoned factory within his awareness.

Ungh!

A pained grunt escaped him. His face paled dramatically, as though he had sustained severe internal injuries. A chaotic barrage of sensations assaulted his consciousness:

Sanctity. Profanity. Terror. Fanaticism.

The spiritual reconnaissance had encountered a turbulent mixture of holy and unholy energies. The simultaneous presence of these opposing forces created a profound dissonance, as though reality itself were being distorted. When Byron attempted to probe deeper, a violent mystical backlash struck him.

The power of the Twilight God.

This was the primordial force that David and his followers had stolen. Kaecilius's expression became grave as he observed Byron's distress.

"Are you alright, Byron?"

The Elder swallowed the coppery taste of blood that had risen in his throat and shook his head dismissively. "It's nothing—a minor injury."

His voice hardened with resolve. "David and his acolytes have certainly conducted some form of dark ritual here. This is extremely concerning. They've employed the original power of the Twilight God. Kaecilius, did you receive any specific information from Victor?"

"Only that this abandoned factory was the site of some malevolent ceremony," Kaecilius replied, shaking his head. "Nothing more specific."

Byron nodded and strode purposefully into the factory. Around them, more portals of amber fire began to materialize. Sorcerers in the black and crimson robes of the Enforcement division emerged in increasing numbers. Upon learning of David's possible location, Byron had summoned his full contingent to conduct an exhaustive investigation, ensuring that not a single trace of evidence would be overlooked.

The capture of David and his followers had become the Enforcers' highest priority. This was partly due to Byron's personal stake in preserving his position, but more importantly because their betrayal represented a stain upon the honor of Kamar Taj—one that could only be cleansed with blood.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps multiplied as the Enforcers dispersed throughout the factory, their eyes sharp with purpose and the promise of retribution.

Kaecilius remained near the entrance, seemingly waiting. Although David's defection was significant, it was primarily the Enforcers' responsibility. His own duty was intelligence gathering and, above all, protecting the New York Sanctum.

Yet he couldn't help wondering about the motivations behind such a dramatic betrayal. What could compel dozens of Kamar Taj's sorcerers to risk being hunted for the remainder of their lives? What purpose had David found for the stolen power of the Twilight God?

Kaecilius suspected he wasn't the only sorcerer harboring such curiosities. People rarely took enormous risks without the prospect of commensurate rewards. He had formed tentative theories but lacked certainty.

As he contemplated these questions, another portal manifested nearby. Gilderoy Lockhart stepped through, followed by a middle-aged man in a dark purple robe. Kaecilius didn't recognize the second figure but set aside his curiosity for the moment.

He approached Lockhart with a warm smile, embracing him briefly in greeting. "Lockhart, congratulations on completing your retreat. Was it productive?"

"I hear the Supreme One has bestowed significant gifts upon you."

"Very productive indeed," Lockhart replied, a satisfied smile playing across his features as he recalled his experiences in the world of Harry Potter.

Then, gesturing to his companion, he added, "This is Gellert Grindelwald, a friend of mine. He possesses considerable power and may be of assistance in our current situation."

Kaecilius's eyes brightened with interest. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grindelwald. Lockhart seldom offers such praise. Perhaps we might test our skills against one another sometime?"

He laughed good-naturedly. Kaecilius's combat prowess wasn't merely theoretical—it had been forged in genuine conflict, including several memorable duels with Lockhart himself.

Grindelwald returned the smile, studying Kaecilius's face with an intensity that might have seemed impolite under different circumstances. He nodded slightly. "Certainly. Once today's matters are resolved, we shall arrange something."

The resemblance is striking, Grindelwald thought. Apart from the hair color, he could be his younger self—my counterpart in this new world. And evidently not without status in Kamar Taj.

"Lockhart, your friend has concealed his true appearance?" Kaecilius transmitted magically, keeping the observation private.

Though Grindelwald appeared to be making no effort at disguise, Kaecilius had easily detected the mystical veiling around him—preparation, perhaps, for whatever lay ahead.

Lockhart acknowledged this with a subtle nod, offering a casual explanation that Kaecilius chose not to pursue. His trust in Lockhart was sufficient to accept the evasion.

"Let's proceed inside. Elder Byron has already entered," Kaecilius said, leading the way into the factory.

Lockhart followed closely, while Grindelwald paused momentarily, nostrils flaring as though detecting a familiar scent. His brow furrowed slightly before he continued after them.

Inside the abandoned factory, an oppressive silence reigned, broken only by the sound of boots against concrete. The atmosphere was stagnant and devoid of life, permeated by a profound sense of desolation.

After advancing several paces, the unmistakable metallic odor of blood assaulted their senses. Simultaneously, the darkness began to recede as the Enforcement sorcerers systematically illuminated the interior with their magic, banishing shadows from every corner.

The scene revealed by this growing light caused Kaecilius and Grindelwald to narrow their eyes in shock.

Before them stretched floors, walls, and fixtures all saturated in vivid crimson. Every surface appeared to have been bathed in blood, explaining the overwhelming odor.

Beyond this, the space was disturbingly immaculate. No bodies, no dismembered remains, no scattered viscera—only the endless scarlet coating. If not for the unmistakable smell, one might have mistaken it for a bizarre decorative choice involving red paint.

Grindelwald, however, could perceive beyond the visible. He sensed the lingering echoes of terror and despair saturating the very air—the psychic impressions of final moments experienced in extreme agony. From the grave expressions of Lockhart, Kaecilius, and the other sorcerers, it was clear they detected these residual energies as well.

They moved cautiously, their Sling Rings poised as they conducted various forms of mystical analysis. At the center of the chamber stood Elder Byron, eyes closed in concentration, evidently conducting another, more careful spiritual assessment after his earlier mishap.

Recognizing the need for caution, Lockhart refrained from interrupting Byron. Instead, he turned to Grindelwald.

"Gellert, I've shared David's magical signature with you. I must ask for your assistance now."

This was the crux of their arrangement—Grindelwald had agreed to help capture the fallen sorcerers, particularly their leader, David. It was why Lockhart had brought him to this grim scene.

Grindelwald acknowledged the request with a slight nod. Then, with a subtle shift in his demeanor, the pupil of his right eye transformed, taking on a luminous silver-white hue. The power of fate began to emanate from him, spreading outward like an invisible tide.

Byron, sensing this unfamiliar mystical presence, opened his eyes and turned toward Grindelwald. He noted Kaecilius and Lockhart's arrival with a perfunctory nod of greeting, but his attention remained fixed on the newcomer.

The aura felt vaguely familiar—reminiscent of certain diviners within Kamar Taj. While many sorcerers possessed basic divination capabilities, those truly skilled in the art were exceedingly rare. Knowing Lockhart as he did, Byron doubted he would bring an incompetent ally. A flicker of anticipation crossed the Elder's face.

As Grindelwald extended his mystical senses, a cacophony of impressions assaulted him:

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"The Bloody Hand is mine! I will be the next Bloody Hand!"

"Anyone who stands in my way will die!"

Phantasmal images of muscular men locked in savage combat flashed through his mind. He perceived the blood-red mist that had filled the air, heard the furious roars, felt the maelstrom of unchecked rage battering his psyche.

Then a shift occurred—a dim light flickered at the edges of his awareness, and in that instant, the accumulated power of fate that Grindelwald had cultivated over years began to drain rapidly, instinctively protecting his spirit from corruption.

The power of an evil god—a Dimensional Entity, as Lockhart had described.

Recognizing the danger, Grindelwald channeled his remaining fate energy to preserve the visions he had witnessed, committing every detail to memory before breaking the connection.

"Gellert, what did you discover?" Lockhart asked as Grindelwald's eyes returned to normal.

Regarding his host with measured candor, Grindelwald replied, "Lockhart, are you familiar with the Ritual of Divine Enlightenment?"

"I witnessed the fallen sorcerer David preparing what he called a 'god-enlightening ceremony.' His followers appeared extraordinarily excited about the prospect."

Lockhart shook his head, indicating his unfamiliarity with the term. Byron, however, seemed to recognize the reference, his expression darkening considerably.

"Did you discern anything else?" Lockhart pressed, noting but not addressing Byron's reaction.

After a moment of calculated silence, Grindelwald placed his foot deliberately on the blood-soaked floor. "I observed crimson lines manifesting across these surfaces—likely components of the Divine Enlightenment ritual."

There was something peculiar in his tone as he spoke. While he claimed ignorance of the ritual's purpose, Grindelwald had immediately recognized its potential value. Using his Eye of Destiny, he had covertly extracted the complete pattern of the Divine Enlightenment ceremony for his own future use.

"Divine Enlightenment..." Lockhart repeated thoughtfully.

The name suggested a connection to Dimensional Entities, but he had no specific knowledge of such a ritual. He glanced questioningly at Kaecilius, who similarly indicated his ignorance with a small shake of his head.

Somewhat disappointed, Lockhart turned his attention to Elder Byron, whose earlier reaction had not gone unnoticed.

"Lockhart," Byron said slowly, "I possess some limited knowledge regarding the Enlightenment ceremony, though my understanding is incomplete. If you wish to learn more, you would be better served by consulting the Supreme One directly."

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