Not only magic, but life force too.
Yet the drained life force did not flow into the diadem, but instead gathered within the pedestal, making the glow upon it shine ever more brilliantly.
Voldemort spoke softly.
"Using the wand as the medium, the power of this world shall form the bones."
A flash of golden light erupted from the pedestal.
Crack, crack—
The wand rose and planted itself into the ground beside the Black Lake, instantly growing like a tree. Branches extended, forming the shape of a skeleton devoid of flesh.
"Using Hoarfrost as the medium, the power of that world shall form the flesh."
Voldemort uttered the second incantation.
Hoarfrost descended.
Despite it being nearly summer, wind and snow suddenly surged. The temperature dropped drastically.
Snow fell heavily.
In the blink of an eye, a thin white layer covered the ground.
Students at Hogwarts stared curiously out their windows. Snow in this season was extremely rare. Some eagerly wished they could go out for a snowball fight, and others secretly used their wands to conjure fleece inside their robes.
Dumbledore looked out as well.
This snow wasn't natural, but neither was it conjured by a weather spell.
What was it?
The Wild Hunt?
He checked the Marauder's Map. Still, no unfamiliar names appeared on it.
He stood up and began walking toward where Crouch was being held.
It was a sensitive time. Anything unusual needed close attention. Harry had done so much already—he couldn't afford to be the one to hold him back.
By the lake—
Hoarfrost and snow, starting from the skeletal feet, crept upward, sculpting pale flesh around the bones.
White, bloodless.
"Using magic as the medium, my will shall reconstruct my life."
Voldemort uttered the third incantation.
Crack!
From the gray shell around Karkaroff—formed by spells—cracks burst forth. Though the shell still functioned, his life force now drained even faster.
Meanwhile—
The golden glow on the pedestal intensified, dazzlingly brilliant.
In the icy landscape, the waters of the Black Lake began to churn, as if boiling.
The Hogwarts castle trembled faintly.
Crack— The golden light pried open an invisible contract.
Vast, overwhelming magical power surged forth. A dreamy blue light descended into the diadem.
Crack, crack—
Tiny fractures appeared upon the diadem.
Black mist surged, blending with the blue magic, intertwining and weaving together, merging into the forming body.
A sound, like a heartbeat.
Faint breathing through the nose.
With the diadem cracking and Voldemort's soul fully invested in the creation of the new body, the Imperius Curse lost its effect.
Karkaroff struggled briefly and broke free from the curse.
But—
He couldn't escape.
His body, frostbitten and numb, was nearly devoid of sensation. His life force, almost completely drained, left him with no strength to move.
He could only stand there.
Watching Voldemort's resurrection.
Feeling his life fade away.
Just as Harry and Dumbledore had predicted, Voldemort was never going to settle for the resurrection method he used two years ago.
It brought him back.
But the leverage it offered was limited.
Dumbledore was aging. Voldemort had youth and a body modified by dark magic. That old method might have been enough to take on Dumbledore, but against Harry—powerful, young, and not yet at his prime—it wasn't enough.
So Voldemort had always craved a stronger rebirth.
The appearance of the Wild Hunt, and knowledge from another world, gave him new opportunities.
Hoarfrost was a powerful force, but merely using it through spells wouldn't have been enough.
Wizards of their level weren't naive. They didn't believe one powerful spell could change their fate.
What mattered most to Voldemort was elemental matter.
In the world of the Wild Hunt and witchers, the use of magic was highly materialistic—unlike the mind-driven magic of wizards. They used magic to influence elements, which in turn produced various spells and effects.
Because of this, mages in that world deeply studied elemental manipulation.
Natural or artificial, they had "elemental creatures."
Voldemort, both brilliant and mad, had an idea:
Why not create an elemental body for himself—an elemental creature's body to be reborn in?
Fire and earth elements didn't impress him.
If he was to be reborn as an elemental being, it would be through the strongest—Hoarfrost, a natural force so powerful even the Wild Hunt had to flee across worlds to escape it.
But great power came at a great cost.
Voldemort had experimented.
Karkaroff's meager magic was just enough to cast some frost spells—but nowhere near enough to summon such vast hoarfrost or construct a body with it.
So Voldemort set his sights on Hogwarts.
A vast, pure magical source.
Using Karkaroff's life force as leverage, he pried open a gap and allowed that immense magic to pour forth to reshape his new body.
He could not truly possess Hogwarts.
But from now on, he would never again be separate from it.
The castle's tremors were felt by everyone inside.
Dumbledore, just reaching the fifth floor, paused—his brow furrowed even deeper.
Though Britain was an island nation, it didn't suffer many earthquakes, especially not Hogwarts—protected by magic since its founding. In all his seventy years at the school, from student to headmaster, he'd never once felt one.
And now—an earthquake?
He pulled out the Marauder's Map again.
This time, the map was different. At the Black Lake, two names appeared—fuzzy, like they'd been erased with an eraser but not entirely removed.
Dumbledore's expression turned grave.
He pointed his wand at the map.
Stabilize contract with magic.
The names slowly cleared.
"Igor Karkaroff"
"Tom Riddle"
They were already inside Hogwarts?
Dumbledore flicked his wand, invoked the Headmaster's privilege, and apparated—
Pop! He appeared near the two names.
Fawkes circled protectively overhead.
As he landed—
The snow whipped around him in blinding gusts. All he could see was an endless white.
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Powerstones?
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