Azkaban...
As Voldemort's crimson eyes dart around the dimly lit cell, he feels an overwhelming chill seep into his very bones.
The distant sounds of wailing and screaming echo through the stone corridors, a symphony of suffering and despair that is eerily familiar to him.
His mind races.
'How did this happen?'
The last thing he remembers is storming into that cursed shop, his wand ready to strike down anyone who dared stand in his way—
And then... nothing.
Swish~
A dark shadow glides past his cell, and Voldemort snaps his head toward it, his breath hitching for a moment.
"____"
A Dementor.
His eyes widen.
Everything clicks into place.
He is in Azkaban.
He—
the Dark Lord, the heir to Salazar Slytherin, the most powerful wizard to ever exist—
has been defeated and imprisoned.
And by who?
Grit~
His teeth clench as flashes of memory return—
the mocking laughter, the clown-faced abomination, and the last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him.
Before he can dwell on it further, a piece of parchment drifts down from above, landing right in front of him.
A prison guard nearby is chuckling as he flips through another copy of the Daily Prophet.
Clearly, the paper had slipped from his grasp.
At first, Voldemort ignores it.
But then—
his eyes catch the headline, and his blood runs cold.
He hesitates for a moment before snatching the newspaper off the floor, his hands trembling—
not with fear, but with seething rage.
His eyes dart across the page, taking in the headline:
"THE SO-CALLED 'SECOND DARK LORD' HUMBLED BY A SHOPKEEPER'S PET! AZKABAN'S NEWEST GUEST EXPOSED!"
A magically moving image of him lying unconscious on the shop floor is featured right beneath it—
his limbs sprawled out like a fallen sack of potatoes, his wand snapped in half beside him.
In the background, the smirking Mr. Mime is striking a mocking victory pose, tipping an imaginary hat toward the camera.
Voldemort's breathing becomes ragged.
His grip tightens on the newspaper, his knuckles turning white.
This cannot be happening.
His legacy—
his feared reputation—
everything he had built up until now had just been mocked in front of the entire wizarding world.
With a loud, primal roar, Voldemort hurled the newspaper against the cold stone walls of his cell.
The paper crumpled upon impact before floating down like a fallen leaf, its humiliating headline still visible.
His eyes blazed with fury, his pale, skeletal face twisted in a snarl of absolute hatred.
His hands trembled, not with fear, but with pure, unfiltered rage.
"That clown-faced abomination…!"
he hissed, his voice dripping with venom.
The wails of prisoners around him barely registered in his ears as he seethed, his mind consumed with one singular vow of vengeance.
"I WILL KILL IT!"
he bellowed, his voice echoing through the cold, dark halls of Azkaban.
"I WILL RIP THAT PATHETIC CREATURE APART PIECE BY PIECE!"
His breath was ragged, his body shaking with unbridled fury.
But even as he fumed, his rage shifted—
from Mr. Mime… to Leo Morningstar.
The man behind it all.
"The Morningstar…"
Voldemort growled, his voice almost a whisper now, filled with cold, murderous intent.
"You think you've won? That you can humiliate me and walk away?"
His crimson eyes gleamed with malice, a maniacal grin stretching across his face.
"No…"
he whispered.
"Before I reclaim my place as the most feared Dark Lord in history, I will burn everything you love."
He tilted his head up, glaring at the enchanted ceiling that showed nothing but an endless void of darkness.
"I will slaughter that wretched beast with my own hands,"
Voldemort vowed, his breath heavy with hatred.
"And then, Morningstar—I will come for you."
His laughter started as a low chuckle, but soon it escalated—a deranged, echoing cackle that sent chills down the spines of nearby prisoners.
But to his misfortune,
the Dementors lurking nearby sensed the overwhelming hatred and fury radiating from him.
Like starved vultures, they glided toward his cell, their tattered cloaks billowing as they eagerly drank in his emotions—
his rage, his hatred, his thirst for vengeance.
A bone-chilling cold seeped into his very soul, and Voldemort's triumphant laughter died in his throat.
His vision blurred, his strength drained, and before he could even attempt to resist, the overwhelming wave of despair crashed down on him like a tidal wave.
"No… not again…"
he muttered weakly, his body shuddering as the Dementors circled him hungrily, feasting on his torment.
His worst memories clawed their way to the surface.
The pain, the humiliation, the utter defeat at the hands of that clown-faced monstrosity and the damned Morningstar.
As his legs gave out beneath him, Voldemort collapsed onto the cold, damp floor, his crimson eyes rolling back as the darkness swallowed him whole.
The self-proclaimed Second Dark Lord lost consciousness once more, his mind plunged into an abyss of unrelenting despair—
a fitting punishment for one who thought himself untouchable.
But soon, a harsh voice cut through the eerie silence.
"That's enough! Back off, you wretched things!"
a prison guard barked, his wand raised as he glared at the Dementors.
The cloaked creatures hesitated, their skeletal hands twitching as if reluctant to abandon their feast.
But with a final, lingering shudder, they glided away, their dark forms melting back into the shadows.
The guard let out a scoff, shaking his head as he peered into the cell.
Tch~
"Tch. If you lot had kept that up any longer, we'd be down a 'Dark Lord.'"
Another guard chuckled darkly.
Chuckle~
"Not that anyone would miss him. But orders are orders—we can't have him dropping dead before the Ministry parades him around like a caged beast."
Voldemort lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, his once fearsome crimson eyes now dull and lifeless, his breath ragged and uneven.
His mind had been dragged through the depths of despair, and even unconscious, his body trembled as if still reliving his worst nightmares.
The first guard clicked his tongue.
"Pathetic. And this is the so-called 'Second Dark Lord'? Beaten by a clown?"
With a final look of disdain, the guards left, muttering amongst themselves about how much of a joke the "Dark Lord" had become.
Diagon Alley...
The morning sun cast an eerie glow over Diagon Alley, illuminating the grisly scene that had shaken the entire wizarding world.
A group of Aurors, dressed in dark crimson robes, moved swiftly, their expressions ranging from stoic professionalism to barely concealed unease as they worked to remove the impaled bodies of the Death Eaters.
A few onlookers—
shopkeepers and early customers—
watched from a distance, whispering among themselves, their faces pale.
Though the bodies were being taken away, the massive bloodstained spikes remained, standing like silent monuments of carnage.
"Shouldn't we… take those down too?"
one young Auror asked hesitantly, glancing at his superior.
His commander, a grizzled man named Dawlish, snorted.
"Not our orders. We clear the bodies. The spikes stay."
"But why?"
Dawlish gave him a sideways glance.
"Because whoever gave the order wants people to remember what happens when you cross the wrong wizard."
The younger Auror swallowed hard, staring at the dark red stains glistening in the morning light.
He didn't have to ask which wizard.
The Morningstar name was now etched into wizarding history in blood.
Hogwarts...
DADA Classroom...
As the students sat in anticipation, their eyes fixed on the classroom door, Professor Morningstar finally strode in with his usual composed demeanor.
His striking red eyes swept across the room, taking in the third-year students from all four houses,
some whispering excitedly, others sitting in stiff silence, unsure of what to expect.
Setting his books down on the desk, Leo leaned back slightly and glanced at the roster.
"Alright, let's begin,"
he said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the room.
He began calling out names, marking attendance with swift strokes of his quill.
When the last name was checked off, he set the parchment aside and folded his arms, addressing the class with a sharp gaze.
"Now, before we get started, let me ask you all a simple question,"
Leo said, his tone even yet expectant.
"What is Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
A few hands shot up immediately. Others hesitated.
Some students remained completely still, avoiding his gaze.
Leo pointed to a Ravenclaw girl, who quickly answered,
"It's the study of countering and defending against dark magic and creatures."
"Correct, but a textbook answer,"
Leo replied, nodding.
"What else?"
A Gryffindor boy raised his hand.
"It's learning how to survive against evil witches, wizards, and creatures."
"Better,"
Leo said, smirking.
Smirk~
"But not complete."
His gaze sharpened as he looked around the class.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts isn't just about spells or creatures. It's about knowing the nature of fear, understanding danger, and most importantly, preparing yourself so that you never hesitate when faced with it."
Silence fell over the class.
Some students shifted nervously, while others leaned forward, intrigued.
"Now,"
Leo continued, his smirk widening,
Smirk~
"let's start with today's topic—Trolls."
A few students exchanged uneasy glances at the mention of the giant, brutish creatures.
Leo chuckled at their reactions.
"Oh, don't look so worried. By the end of this lesson, I promise you'll be much more prepared than you were five minutes ago."
With a flick of his wand, the blackboard behind him wrote out in sharp white chalk:
"TROLLS – Strength, Weaknesses, and How Not to Get Smashed Into a Pancake."
The classroom erupted into a mix of laughter and murmurs, and with that, the lesson began.
Leo turned to the class, gesturing toward the blackboard where the word
"TROLLS"
was boldly written.
"Before we get into how to fight one,"
he began, his red eyes scanning the room,
"let's cover the basics. Who here can tell me about trolls?"
A few hands rose hesitantly.
Leo nodded to a Hufflepuff student.
"They're big, slow, and, um... really stupid?"
Chuckles~
The class chuckled, but Leo smirked.
Smirk~
"Mostly correct. But don't be fooled by their stupidity."
"A troll may not be a strategic thinker, but its sheer size, strength, and durability more than makeup for its lack of intelligence."
"Underestimating an opponent just because they're dumb is an easy way to end up a smear on the pavement."
A few students gulped.
Gulp~
Leo flicked his wand, and an illustration of a troll appeared on the blackboard—
a towering, hulking beast with thick gray skin, a club the size of a small tree, and a vacant, slack-jawed expression.
"First, you need to know that not all trolls are the same. There are three primary species that have been recorded:"
Mountain Trolls –
"The largest and strongest, but also the dumbest. Easily agitated, but they can be distracted with loud noises or bright lights."
Forest Trolls –
"Smaller than Mountain Trolls, but much quicker and a bit more cunning. They prefer ambush tactics."
River Trolls –
"Found near lakes and rivers. Their skin is slimy and resistant to weaker spells. They drag their prey underwater to drown them before eating. Lovely creatures, really."
The students scribbled notes furiously, some with wide eyes, clearly imagining being dragged into a lake by a River Troll.
"Now, while trolls are tough, they're not invincible. Here's what you need to know if you ever run into one—and I sincerely hope you don't unless you're prepared."
Leo flicked his wand again, and the illustration on the board shifted to highlight the troll's weak spots.
The Head –
"Trolls have thick skulls, but their brains are small. A well-placed Stunning Spell can knock them out—if you aim properly."
The Eyes –
"Blinding a troll, even temporarily, makes it easier to avoid getting flattened. Spells like Lumos Maxima or Periculum can disorient them."
The Knees –
"A troll's center of gravity is terrible. If you take out their legs, down they go."
Leo paused, letting the information sink in before leaning forward slightly.
"But here's the real secret,"
he said, lowering his voice slightly, making the students lean in unconsciously.
"The most effective way to defeat a troll isn't a spell or brute force. It's outsmarting them. If you can make a troll confused, you've already won the fight."
Leo smirked as he rolled up his sleeves.
"Since I don't have a real troll on hand—thank Merlin for that—I suppose we'll make do with some Transfiguration."
With a swift flick of his wand, he aimed at an empty desk in the front of the classroom.
"Let's see... a Mountain Troll should do."
"Lapides Vertuntur in Trollum!"
The wooden desk shuddered violently, its shape twisting, expanding, and morphing until it grew into a hulking, ten-foot-tall Mountain Troll, its thick grey skin rough like stone,
Gr~
its massive hands gripping a crude club, and its tiny, beady eyes blinking dumbly at the students.
"____"
"____"
"____"
A collective gasp filled the classroom, with a few students instinctively scooting back in their seats.
"Relax,"
Leo said, leaning against his desk with an amused smirk.
Smirk~
"It's Transfigured—completely under my control. It won't squash you… unless I get distracted."
A few nervous chuckles rippled through the room.
Chuckle~
Leo tapped the troll's leg with his wand, and the creature grunted, lifting its club menacingly.
"Now, who wants to try taking it down?"
A Gryffindor tentatively raised their hand.
Leo nodded, stepping back.
"Alright. Remember what I taught you—work smart, not hard."
As the student stepped forward, wand at the ready, the rest of the class held their breath, watching as the battle against the Transfigured troll began.
The Gryffindor student, a boy named Andrew Woodcroft, stepped forward nervously, gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
His eyes flickered between Professor Morningstar and the hulking Mountain Troll, which lazily swung its massive club from side to side.
Leo crossed his arms, watching with amusement.
"Alright, Andrew. Show me what you've got."
Andrew gulped, took a deep breath, and shouted,
Gulp~
"Impedimenta!"
A weak, shimmering light shot from his wand and hit the troll square in the chest.
But instead of slowing it down, the troll blinked dumbly—
as if nothing had happened.
Leo sighed, shaking his head.
'Too weak.'
With a deep, guttural roar, the troll raised its club high and swung it down toward Andrew.
"____"
The poor Gryffindor's eyes widened in terror, his feet frozen in place.
Ahhhh~
The students screamed, a few ducking under their desks.
But just before the club could make contact—
"Protego Maxima!"
Leo flicked his wand effortlessly, and a glowing golden shield sprang up in front of Andrew.
The club slammed into the shield, sending a powerful shockwave through the room.
The impact reverberated, but the barrier held strong, leaving Andrew unharmed.
Leo could have stopped the moment of the troll but he wanted the students to see the impact of the attack of a troll.
So they won't underestimate it and take the lesson seriously like their life depends on it.
Leo let out a dramatic sigh.
Sigh~
"And that's why you don't hesitate."
Andrew, still trembling, nodded quickly and scrambled back to his seat.
"____"
"____"
"____"
The rest of the class stared in stunned silence, their faces pale.
Leo clapped his hands together, breaking the tension.
"Alright, who's next?"
No one moved.
Even the bravest students—
especially the Gryffindors—
glanced at each other nervously, unsure if they wanted to risk getting flattened.
Leo chuckled, sensing their hesitation.
Chuckle~
He leaned casually against his desk, twirling his wand between his fingers.
"Listen up,"
he said, his voice calm but firm.
"Failure isn't embarrassing—not trying at all is."
He gestured toward the troll, which grunted and stomped its foot impatiently.
Thud~
"This is a controlled environment. You won't get hurt, I'm right here. So—step forward and learn, or sit back and stay weak."
The students swallowed hard.
Finally, a Hufflepuff girl hesitantly raised her hand.
Leo grinned.
Grin~
"Now we're talking. Come on up."
One by one, the students took turns facing the troll, each trying their best to dodge, counter, or disarm it.
Some spells were too weak, some misfired, and a few completely missed their target—
but Leo intervened each time, ensuring no one got hurt.
As the lesson progressed, the student's confidence grew, and by the end of the class, even the most reluctant ones had stepped up to challenge the troll at least once.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N): I hope you guys enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!! It will Motivate Me.