Swoosh!
The memory ended abruptly, giving Elijah no time to react.
Color returned to his vision. Beneath his feet, the ground rippled like water, slowly swallowing the Pensieve as if it were a swamp devouring life.
Elijah did not leave immediately. He remained where he stood for a long time, trying to grasp the unusual magic Percival had described.
Mastering Ancient Magic offered more than just stronger spells. More importantly, for most wizards, Ancient Magic was effectively invisible. This meant that spells cast with it were difficult to counter, and many conventional counter-spells might fail entirely.
Take Apparition as an example. It could be restricted by Anti-Apparition measures and often left traces. By examining the Apparition point, one could infer the destination of the Disapparition.
But if Ancient Magic were used, tracking might become impossible.
Even so, as Percival had said, it was not something easily achieved.
The magic within one's own body was difficult to perceive. It carried the notion of seeking power from within.
"Let's see what that book in the so-called Room of Requirement can offer me," Elijah murmured. Then his expression darkened.
The Room of Requirement was inside Hogwarts. He had just managed to escape that place, and now he needed to return.
Going back was not the problem. Doing so without being discovered was.
Dumbledore's informants and the Marauder's Map were both troublesome obstacles.
"There should be a way to conceal oneself from the Marauder's Map," he muttered.
No one had accomplished such a thing before. Dumbledore had no need to, and Voldemort likely did not even know the map existed. Still, Elijah believed it was worth attempting.
He had previously studied the map's principles. It was not merely the creation of the four Marauders, but rather a work they had refined based on an earlier foundation.
At its core, the map relied on the Homenum Revelio Charm and magical contracts.
Homenum Revelio itself was simple. The true difficulty lay in the contract magic.
In the wizarding world, contract magic was exceptionally powerful. Even a Fidelius Charm cast by an ordinary wizard could prove nearly impossible for the greatest wizard to break.
Dumbledore had once gone to great lengths to break a Blood Pact, ultimately succeeding only by exploiting a loophole.
"If only I could get my hands on the map," Elijah thought.
He was unsure whether it was currently with the twins or had been confiscated by Dumbledore. However, judging by Dumbledore's earlier tone, he might have returned it to them.
"I remember Sirius sneaking into the castle during Harry's Quidditch match. Halloween Eve is another opportunity. At least on those days, George and Fred don't use the map."
He began calculating.
Halloween was fast approaching.
In fact, once the twins became familiar with the secret passages, they rarely relied on the map. Wandering the castle at night without it was far more entertaining.
To them, the thrill of outwitting Filch was the real fun.
Just as Elijah was deep in thought, an unusual sound came from the vault door.
He immediately turned toward it.
It was a massive golden door, four to five meters tall, stretching up to the domed ceiling.
This was not the same door he had passed through earlier. Instead, it resembled the grand entrance connected directly to Gringotts' underground chambers. Previously, it had appeared narrow, but now, having passed the initial trial, its true form was revealed.
Someone had opened it from the outside.
If nothing unexpected had occurred, it was likely Goblin reinforcements.
Elijah tightened his grip on his wand, preparing for battle.
BoOOOOom.
The entire vault trembled. The ground rippled beneath his feet, and dust fell from the ceiling above.
In the next instant, the massive door, weighing several tons, was blown apart by a violent explosion.
Fragments hurtled forward like landslides, several pieces larger than Elijah himself, their shadows swallowing him whole.
He did not dodge. He did not retreat. Standing firm amid the shockwave, he raised his wand.
"Bombarda."
The incoming fragments shattered instantly into countless stone shards, scattering like sparks.
Then, from the dense smoke, a grotesque head burst forth. Its bloodstained fangs gleamed as it unleashed a torrent of blazing fire.
The flames flooded the entire vault in an instant, swallowing everything, including Elijah.
It was another dragon, an ancient one. Its scales had loosened with age, turning pale like white hair. Its eyes were clouded, yet the heat of its flames was terrifying.
Alongside it, Goblins were flung into the vault.
They were not charging with weapons. Instead, they were impaled on the dragon's claws or crushed in its jaws, thrown in like broken debris. Some still twitched as they hung from its bat-like wings.
Blood stained those pale wings crimson.
From within the flames, a young wizard stepped forward.
Holding his wand with composed elegance, he gazed at the dragon with cold disdain, as if it were nothing more than a lowly beast.
"If I had known Gringotts kept dragons, I wouldn't have bothered buying Dragon blood in Knockturn Alley."
It was Voldemort.
Though he had attacked Gringotts two years ago, Vault 713 had been far from the dragon's location. He had never realized one was kept here.
After crashing into Vault 12, the dragon rampaged wildly in the confined space. Its flames rivaled Fiendfyre, burning endlessly without pause.
Its body was covered in wounds as it raised its head and let out a mournful roar.
"Quiet, beast."
Voldemort flicked his wand. A black, thorned chain shot out, lashing viciously across the dragon's body.
The dragon cried out in pain. Though such agony should have driven it into madness, it shrank back instead, letting out a low, fearful whimper.
Voldemort smiled faintly, not with triumph, but with an arrogance that seemed ingrained in his very being. Ignoring the subdued creature, he turned his gaze toward the flames.
"Come out, Tom Riddle, or rather… Elijah."
Gringotts had exploded.
But it was Voldemort who had caused it.