In the city of Chandigarh, India, nestled in a quiet residential colony, stood a house that now lay in complete ruins.
The roof had partially collapsed, blackened and burnt. Several walls had crumbled into heaps of bricks and plaster. The devastation was so thorough that it seemed like an earthquake had ripped through the structure due to earthquake some house got on fire. This site holds an entirely different story.
Whatever had happened here, it had destroyed everything.
This house had once been home to a small, loving family. A mother, a father, and their two children—a brother and sister. Well-liked and respected in their society, they were known for their warmth and kindness.
According to the neighbours, the elder son, Arjun, had gone abroad to study at a young age. He returned home after seven long years, having completed his education. But only a few days after his return, this tragic event occurred.
It happened overnight.
No one saw it coming. No one even heard anything.
When the neighbours awoke the next morning, they saw that the house was already reduced to ashes and rubble. Only Arjun survived. His entire family had perished in the fire.
According to them some distant relatives came for him shortly after and took him away.
And now, I was here again. In the courtyard of that same ruined house.
Before me knelt Yaxley, his hands and legs bound in magical iron cuffs, soaked in blood. Half his body was burned from fire, and he writhed in agony, barely conscious, his face contorted with pain.
I stood in front of him, holding a black, sinister-looking sword. Its surface gleamed like oil under the moonlight, unnaturally smooth, and almost alive with hunger.
He had no idea how did it happen.
Earlier That Day,
It had been over a week since I arrived in this world, and I was currently staying in a room at the Leaky Cauldron. It was a fairly high-class suite—comfortable bed, clean bath, and best of all, excellent food.
My days were quiet but fulfilling. I spent most of my time reading, practicing spells, and trying to understand the flow of magic in this world.
Magic here was surprisingly efficient. It required minimal chanting, and one didn't need to cultivate mana like in my previous world. A wizard here only needed a wand and a magically compatible body. That was it.
By contrast, in my old world, mastering magic took years of cultivation, training, and willpower. But this world lacked true power. Aside from a few dangerous spells like those involving death magic, almost every other spell could be blocked or deflected by a decent barrier.
Even so, I had been enjoying myself - roaming Diagon Alley, occasionally slipping into the Muggle world, eating good food, reading rare magical tomes.
Thanks to that necklace that I sold, I had enough gold to live freely and pursue whatever I wanted. I bought dozens of books, including those on dark magic, and spent nights studying them carefully.
Just yesterday, I bought a snowy owl. Using her, I sent back the galleons Dumbledore had once given me, along with a polite letter explaining that I had found some work and was now staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Everything was fine, I told him.
A few days ago, I remembered the old house in Chandigarh where my family used to live. Though it was now in ruins, the neighbourhood itself was still a decent place. I had thought, why not rebuild it?
So, I contacted a few engineers in India and arranged a meeting at the site. They were supposed to arrive today around 11 a.m. I planned to teleport there by that time.
After finishing breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron, I headed out for a walk through Diagon Alley, enjoying the crisp air and morning bustle.
That's when I saw Yaxley.
And I remembered.
He had been involved in the death of my family.
thanks to my mental conditioning and skills the memories didn't overwhelm me but I still felt angry toward like how we felt toward an evil villain in movies.
At first, I considered letting it go. After all, I wasn't the same person anymore. I was the one in control of this body now, and technically, his crimes weren't against me.
But then a thought crept into my mind. Why let him walk free?
It's not like anyone in this world could stop me. And even if someone tried, would they really be able to protect him?
Besides, this man wasn't just a murderer. Who knew how many innocent lives he had taken or would kill in the future? And yet, here he was, walking free. Protected by his contacts, hiding behind the inefficiency of the Ministry, shopping like nothing had ever happened.
If they couldn't deliver justice, then maybe I should.
And truth be told, I found a certain joy in torturing people like him.
As my thoughts rooted itself deeper, I started remembering the old days, back in my previous world. Those were good times.
I used to break demons. Not just defeat them—break them. Tearing information out of their minds and bodies through various peaceful methods. Then there were some people and warlord with there wicked thoughts. I showed them righteous path without using any fancy tools, spells, long speeches or noble idea; It was just me, my hands and a whole lot of creativity… ah, memories.
A grin slowly crept onto my face, uninvited but welcome.
I cracked my knuckles and muttered to myself with a dry chuckle,
"Time to do a good deed."
And with that, I started tailing Yaxley.
Yaxley was on a shopping spree. He bought clothes first, then potions, then headed into Gringotts. When he came out, I noticed him subtly stuffing two or three pouches inside his coat. I could sense the weight of gold inside them - easily five thousand Galleons.
Rich bastard.
Afterward, he began walking more cautiously, checking over his shoulder. Even a child could have guessed he was up to something shady.
Eventually, he made his way toward Knockturn Alley, the shady underbelly of Diagon Alley.
I cast an invisibility charm on myself and followed.
There, he bought even more suspicious items like dark magical tools, rare ingredients, animal parts, various kinds of blood. All were things commonly used in forbidden rituals.
Once he was done, he turned back, probably heading home. I knew I had to move fast.
A few minutes later, he slipped into a narrow, deserted alleyway. I scanned the area with a detection spell to ensure no one else was watching.
The coast was clear.
And then, I struck.
I lunged forward, grabbing him, and in a blink, we vanished - teleported from the shadows of Knockturn Alley to the ghostly remains of the house he had once helped destroy. The place stood like a hollow memory of what once was. No birds chirped here. No life. Just a haunting silence.
Without wasting a moment, I slammed Yaxley straight into a half-standing wall. The force rattled the old bricks. As he crashed down, stunned, I immediately cast a powerful invisible barrier around the perimeter of the house. No sound would escape, and no one would be able to enter or leave unless I allowed it.
Yaxley groaned and tried to get to his feet, confused and disoriented. He reached for his wand out of instinct, but I held it up in my hand with a slight grin and said, "Looking for this?"
His eyes widened. He looked at me first, then at the wand in my hand in disbelief.
I snapped it in half right in front of him. The crack echoed through the ruins like a judge's final verdict.
Yaxley's face twisted in rage. "Who are you? How dare you do this to me? Do you even know who I am?"
I tilted my head, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Forgotten me already? And this house? Maybe you need a memory potion from St. Mungo's."
At first, he looked at me with confusion, then glanced around the destroyed courtyard. It took a few moments, but something clicked in his eyes. Recognition dawned.
He remembered now.
He had been here before. weeks ago. This was the house where he and his fellow Death Eaters had killed a Muggle family. A boy had survived that night. He thought the boy was rescued by Dumbledore. What he didn't realize was how difficult it had been for twelve of them to deal with just that one child. Six of them had fallen that day. And now that boy stood in front of him again, not as a scared child, but as something else entirely.
"You filthy Mudblood," he spat. "How dare you touch me? Do you know how expensive these robes are? You go to Hogwarts and learn a few tricks, and now you think you're someone? I'm a pure-blooded wizard. You are trash. Less than trash."
I clenched my fists, but kept my calm. Not yet. Not fully.
"You must have used a Portkey. Impressive, but it won't help. The moment people realize I'm missing; my family and partners will pressure the Ministry. They'll track the magic in the Portkey or your wand. They will find you."
"Touch me again, and you'll regret it. Do you remember how we killed your family? How we tortured your sister while you were tied up, forced to watch? If not, maybe you need a visit to St. Mungo's. I know a great doctor there. Should I send him a letter, Mudblood?"
That was it.
Something snapped inside me.
I crossed the distance between us in an instant and landed a punch square in his chest. The impact launched him back into the wall. The old bricks cracked behind him. He gasped, trying to catch his breath.
I climbed on top of him and began to punch him, again and again, not caring where or how hard. There was no mercy in my strikes. I remembered every demon I had killed in my previous life, every evil soul I had broken with my bare hands. I had gotten quite good at it.
He tried to scream, tried to cast something, but my barrier made sure no magic worked here.
By the time I stopped, my hands were soaked in blood. Yaxley's face was a mess. Jaw dislocated, nose broken, one eye burst open, and blood pouring from his ears. He whimpered in agony.
But I wasn't done.
From my item box, I pulled out a hammer. Not just any hammer. This was a weapon I had brought from my previous world. It gleamed with a dark metallic lustre and radiated power. Yaxley caught sight of it and froze. He was terrified now. I could see it in the way his one good eye twitched and the way he tried to crawl away, lips trembling, unable to form words.
I approached him slowly, twirling the hammer in my hand. "What's wrong, Yaxley? Not used to Mudbloods fighting methods?"
I crouched beside him, my voice dark with sarcasm. "This is Folter. The Kind Folter. One of my favourite tools. I usually use it to educate evil people about virtue."
He tried to mutter something through his broken jaw. Nothing coherent came out. Just a wet gargle.
I raised the hammer and brought it crashing down on his foot. Bone crunched. He screamed louder than I thought humanly possible.
Then, before his mind could even fully register the pain, the hammer's enchantment activated, healing his foot back to perfect condition.
He stared at his leg in horror. Then he looked up at me and my grinning face. He understood now. This wasn't about punishment.
This was a lesson.
I beat him with Folter for over an hour. Every time he broke, it fixed him. His body remained intact, but mentally, he was shattered. By the end, he had curled into a corner, begging to be spared, sobbing like a child. I found his transformation amusing. I even looked at Folter with admiration. It really was an effective tool for reforming wicked hearts.
"You Death Eaters really love playing with fire, don't you?" I said, standing over him.
His one good eye blinked at me in confusion and horror.
"Let me show you what real flames feel like."
I drew my wand, its tip glowing with rising heat. With a sharp motion, I cast Solar Tornado. Flames erupted, coiling into a blazing vortex that roared to life, the air around us warping under the intense heat. The ruined walls trembled in its fiery glow.
Yaxley could only stare, unable to scream properly, but his face twisted in pure fear. And then I released the storm upon him.
The tornado engulfed him, roaring like a beast. His body thrashed as fire wrapped around him, consuming without mercy. I stood still, watching him burn for five whole minutes. His cries were muffled by the spinning fire and the barrier around us. When it finally died down, Yaxley's body lay in front of me. Half of it had burned away, his clothes and flesh charred, smoke still rising from his skin. But he was still alive.
Barely.
The man who had once called himself superior was now nothing more than a half-burnt wreck, whimpering at my feet.
Tired but satisfied, I took a deep breath. I wasn't done yet.
From my item box, I took out a sword. Black as midnight, the blade shimmered with a dangerous energy. Yaxley saw it and began sobbing, fear etched into every inch of his scorched face. He crawled backward, trying to get away, dragging his half-destroyed body like a wounded animal.
"Please," he begged, his voice hoarse and broken. "Don't kill me. I will do anything. I will serve you. I will be your slave. I will never speak of this to anyone. Please."
I walked toward him slowly.
"A pure-blood wizard, begging a Mudblood for his life?" I spoke. "That doesn't suit your style, Yaxley. What would your noble friends think if they saw you like this?"
He whimpered again, trying to hide his face. I raised the sword a little higher, letting it hum with energy. He could feel it. This wasn't just a weapon. It was something far worse.
"This is the Sword of Gluttony," I told him, crouching beside him. "It will be your final lesson."
He stared at the blade, paralyzed.
"This sword will destroy your body, but more than that, it will absorb your soul. It will feed on your pain, your despair, your energy. It will torture you until it gets bored, and that might take months. Maybe longer."
His eyes widened in disbelief. "You're a monster," he whispered. "You're no different from us."
I chuckled, "Oh, I'm very different. I don't kill the innocent. I only give monsters what they deserve. Like you."
I waved my wand, and his body rose off the ground, suspended in the air like a puppet. He struggled, but there was no strength left in him.
Just before I struck, he tried one last time.
"The Dark Lord will return," he croaked. "You'll die like the rest when he does."
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You done?"
Without another word, I drove the sword through his heart.
He screamed. Or at least tried to.
The sword pulsed, glowing deep crimson. Chains burst out of it like angry serpents, wrapping around his limbs, his neck, his soul. They pulled him in, dragging his essence into the blade. His body turned to ash within seconds. All that remained was a pile of dark grey dust.
I raised my hand and summoned a gust of wind. The ashes scattered into the air, carried out across the broken courtyard. Nothing of him remained.
I took a step back and stretched.
"It's done," I said softly to the empty space around me. "One less monster in the world. I hope Arjun and his family can finally rest now. Rest in peace, brother. I'll handle the rest."
I looked up at the pale sky above the ruined house. For a moment, a strange stillness settled over me. In that quiet, I remembered the gentle smile of Arjun's sister when he had first shown her a simple bit of magic. Technically, she was my sister too now.
I took a deep breath, letting the silence of the ruined house settle around me. Just then, I heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Through the cracked remains of a window frame, I saw a middle-aged man stepping out of a white sedan. I glanced at my watch. It was 11:04 a.m.
The engineer had arrived.
Quickly, I waved my wand. With a few precise gestures, the aftermath of the battle vanished. Blood, ash, shattered brick and scorch marks faded as if nothing had happened. I cleaned myself up and transfigured my robes into simple muggle attire. By the time I stepped outside, I looked like any ordinary man standing outside an old family property.
I raised a hand and called out, "Hello, Mr. Patel, over here."
He walked over with a clipboard in hand, his gaze drifting over the ruined home behind me. The damage seemed to catch him off guard. His expression shifted as he looked around, clearly surprised by the state of the house.
"So, you want to renovate this place?" he asked, still examining the damage.
"No," I said calmly. "I want to tear this down completely. We'll be building a new one."
I explained that I had a particular design in mind—something inspired by a house I'd seen in Surrey on Privet Drive-Dursley's house. I told him I liked its modest yet well-kept charm. I explained it to him with some modification: an extra bedroom and a larger kitchen.
After listening carefully, he nodded and said, "I'll have my team work on the blueprint and send it over in a few days. Once you've reviewed it, we can make any changes if needed."
"Sounds good," I replied, shaking his hand again. We scheduled our next meeting for a week later. Then he returned to his car and drove away, leaving the street quiet once again.
Since I was already here and it was close to lunchtime, I figured I might as well eat locally. There was a decent restaurant not far from the neighbourhood, and I had just turned toward it when I heard a voice call out behind me.
I turned to see a kind-faced elderly woman standing at the edge of the footpath. She was one of the neighbours, a family friend from long ago. Her eyes softened when she saw me.
She walked up and placed a gentle hand on my arm and asked how I was doing. Then, with sincere sorrow, she expressed her condolences for the loss of my family. Without hesitation, she invited me over to her home for lunch. Considering the long-standing relationship between our families, I couldn't say no.
Inside her home, memories floated up with every creaking floorboard and every familiar smell. I met her family, ate lunch with them, and we spoke of the old days. She reminded me how I used to play in her yard, how my mother would send food over during festivals. Her warmth was genuine, and for a brief while, it felt like I was back in a world that hadn't been torn apart.
Her Family offered to help with the rebuilding of the house but I politely declined, thanking her for her kindness.
After the meal, I said goodbye and stepped outside. I found a quiet spot away from curious eyes and cast a teleportation spell, disappearing from the muggle neighbourhood in an instant. Moments later, I was back in Diagon Alley.
I was feeling light and content.
As I walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron, I passed Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and decided to pick up a packed ice cream for myself. Something sweet to close out the day. I carried it back to my room, humming quietly to myself.