The door slammed shut behind Jiang Chen with a loud bang. He stumbled into the familiar room, chest heaving as he slumped against the wall with his legs barely holding his weight.

A different timeline? One where that monster Desolus amounted to nothing more than a footnote, stopped before his reign of apocalyptic destruction? Jiang Chen desperately wanted to believe, to cling to that fragile hope. But he couldn't force himself to. Desolus must have hidden himself away for some nefarious reason...

Carefree laughter echoed down the halls, the other disciples' auras light and unburdened. Guo Peng had brushed off Desolus, oblivious to the nightmare to come. Jiang Chen squeezed his eyes shut, bile burning his throat as he was forced to accept the reality before him.

This was no dream, no trick of the senses. Somehow, by some cosmic force, he had been ripped from his own ravaged world and thrust into this strange alternate timeline. But why? What cosmic purpose could drive such a twist of fate?

His fists clenched, nails biting into his youthful palms hard enough to draw blood. There could be only one answer - to stop Desolus from claiming this world as his next bloodstained prize. To prevent those same atrocities, that endless cycle of slaughter and despair, from repeating itself here.

First, he needed to test his powers. Jiang Chen snatched up the jade-tipped wand from the desk, not something he regularly used, but enough for now. He whirled toward the simple wooden chair, slashing the wand in a blinding arc. White-hot energy erupted from the tip in a dazzling flare, searing a trail through the air to blast the chair head-on.

When the flare faded, a small deer blinked in confusion where the chair had been, the wooden furniture twisted into an unnatural new form. A grim smile tugged at Jiang Chen's lips - his qi remained intact, at least.

Another casual flick of the wand and the deer shimmered, reforming into an ordinary chair once more. He set the wand down on his desk once more and began pacing back and forth.

"The soul," he whispered. "The heart of our power – our mastery over the spark of life itself. The spark that monster corrupted, twisted into something vile and profane after capturing the Elders of the Sect."

Desolus had somehow, without partaking in the Yellow Mountain Sect’s Mother and Son Communion Ritual, managed to create his own Soul Engraving after two years. And through that Engraving, he had inscribed the advanced Soul Devouring ability that violently ripped the very essence from his victims to fuel his endless, gluttonous hunger for power. Each soul consumed made one’s Engraving very minutely stronger, more stable. One’s Inscribed Abilities a little bit more potent with every life taken.

It was a seductive path, Jiang Chen knew. To grow mightier by devouring one's foes, their lingering wills submitting to the victor's dominance. But the Yellow Mountain Sect had sealed such abominations behind the strongest of seals long ago. Not just for moral reasons, but from pragmatic necessity – the remnant wills could easily overwhelm and corrupt the unworthy.

Yet Desolus had shattered that limit with ease. Had turned Soul Devouring into the foulest of arts, the dark engine powering his rise from immensely powerful Dark Lord to unstoppable Great Demon. The visions assaulted Jiang Chen in vivid flashes of slaughter.

The Cycle of Despair, when Desolus would descend upon city after city in an orgy of death. Harvesting hundreds of thousands of souls in his ravenous maw, only to withdraw and refine that stolen essence while his own spirit recovered from the strain. Always growing stronger, more terrible, before inevitably returning with fresh waves of destruction that shook the world itself.

The Sect's disciples practiced Soul Devouring after each Cycle as well, consuming the fragmented remnants Desolus left behind – shards that offered their essence freely, without corruption. Vengeance and allegiance against their shared foe drove them. Jiang Chen's power swelled, his Engraving reaching terrifying heights. Yet it proved a mere candle against the Great Demon's firestorm.

Here though, in this alien timeline... things were different. Desolus had ‘fallen’ somehow, cast down by mundane forces before his true ascent. Before his apocalyptic campaign could reach its ruinous peak.

Jiang Chen's breath caught in his throat. The Mother Abilities! Their Sect's most sacred techniques, fuelled by direct connection to the Great Mother Tree, the focal point of the Mother aspect of the Mother Son Communion ritual, itself.

In his shattered reality, that vital link had been severed when Desolus destroyed the Huangshan Mountains, and thus the Tree, utterly. But here... Jiang Chen reached out with his soul, felt the warm, nurturing presence of the Mother pulsing in time with his thundering heart.

Tears stung his eyes as he activated Soul Communion, his Engraving flooding with the Yellow Mountain Sect’s dogma and beliefs. His near-broken Will began to replenish itself after the immense strain placed upon it by Desolus’s unending tortures.

For a few blessed moments, he simply drank deep of that wellspring. Let the weight of despair and failure lift, if only briefly. A fragile spark of hope flickered to life – if Desolus had truly been stopped here, then maybe...

Then he saw it. Nestled in the heart of his Engraving's core, a tiny serpent coiled tight – fangs buried in the fabric of his very soul. His entire body shuddered in anxiety as he traced the ethereal thread trailing from its thrashing tail, vanishing into nothingness.

"No..." The broken rasp tore from his throat. "It can't be..."

He used the Inscribed Ability known by all disciples, Soul Sensing, to its utmost to follow that tether to its source, and faintly, Desolus's mocking laughter echoed in his mind.

"This world is too small... let's see if this experiment gives me more souls to devour..."

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Jiang Chen's world shattered. He stumbled back, his heart racing as the awful truth hit him in waves of despair.

It was Desolus. The Great Demon himself had banished Jiang Chen from his own timeline into this new one, trapping him in a younger body. This was all part of Desolus's latest depraved scheme, a twisted plan to infiltrate the new timeline by taking advantage of Jiang Chen's very existence.

A scream of pure rage and anguish tore from his throat. Soul energy coalesced around his fist as he smashed it into the floor with every ounce of his strength. Wood exploded in a blinding storm of splinters and shrapnel, a fifty-meter-deep hole piercing into the earth.

But even such reckless destruction couldn't quench the inferno raging inside him. He knew, with soul-shattering certainty, that the serpent's fangs were anchored in his Engraving by Desolus's own Will. No force here could break the vile tether binding him to the demon.

Despair stole the breath from his lungs. He slumped to his knees, bitter laughter tearing from his throat like shards of broken glass.

"All my hopes..." The words were a rasping croak, and his fists clenched tightly. "Just cruel illusions. Bait dangling on the hook cast by that demon..."

In the end, he was nothing but a helpless pawn. A pathetic puppet, his strings pulled by Great Demon Desolus's whims from another timeline. What chance did anyone have against such overwhelming power?

Even as the darkness surrounded him, a faint glimmer sparked in the ashes of his despair. This world… it was undeniably different from his own.

In the reality he'd been plucked from, Desolus had rampaged unchecked, leaving only scorched ruin and oceans of blood in his wake. Consuming and destroying without limit to fuel his endless craving for souls.

But here... here, the Great Demon had vanished somehow. Defeated before his true ascension, before his dark tendrils could strangle the life from this world as well.

And there was something else too. When Desolus had first encountered the Elders of the Sect, his aura had been split into two warring aspects.

One radiated outward in a blazing supernova of pure, sadistic malice. A yawning void that consumed all light and hope, leaving only oblivion. But the other... the other had shone as a tiny, flickering ember of sorrow and despair, nearly snuffed out by the overwhelming darkness.

Over the long years, as Desolus grew in power, that second aspect had faded from view. Subsumed and consumed by the monster's main aspect. But here, in this divergent timeline...

Desolus's true identity – the human monster whose reign had ultimately brought the world to its knees – had been shrouded in speculation for a long time.

After his final, climactic clash with one of the most powerful Magi on the planet, Albus Dumbledore, the awful truth at last came to light through a number of letters released after Dumbledore’s death. The Great Demon had once been nothing more than a child, a young boy named Harry Potter. His body and soul twisted to serve as a vessel for a long-dead Dark Lord's malign spirit.

A spirit that, in Jiang Chen's world, had utterly devoured the boy's essence. Erasing any trace of the innocent child he had surely once been, replacing it with malice and cruelty.

But here... here, could the course of that tragedy have played out differently? Could that second aspect have been Harry Potter himself all this time? We had suspected, but never knew for sure.

"What if..." Jiang Chen breathed the words, hardly daring to give voice to that fragile hope taking shape. "What if the boy fought back? What if Harry Potter's soul somehow found the strength to resist the Dark Lord’s spirit, to deny the monster its ultimate victory?"

Could that explain Desolus's disappearance in this timeline? His abrupt fall from the global stage years before his apocalyptic campaign could reach its ruinous peak? A final, desperate ploy by a child pushed past the brink, sacrificing everything to thwart the demon's designs? Hopefully he survived… The boy must’ve been immensely talented, and was almost certainly the root cause behind Desolus’s overwhelming power. The Dark Lord Voldemort would have surely never died if he was that powerful, right?

Jiang Chen shuddered, a tremor running through him from crown to heel. It seemed a desperate dream, a soap bubble reality ready to burst at the first harsh truth. And yet... he had to know. Had to pursue even that faintest glimmer of hope against the odds.

He surged back to his feet, squaring his shoulders as that fragile spark hardened into a blazing resolve burning in his eyes.

"I'll find him," he growled, the words torn from a throat ravaged by screams of anguish. "I'll uncover the truth behind Desolus's fall – behind Harry Potter's ultimate fate, no matter what it costs me."

Jiang Chen's fists clenched hard, nails biting bloody crescents into his palms. If Harry Potter is alive, I must ally myself with him. There is no other choice if we want to resist the Great Demon Desolus from destroying this world as well.

oo0ooOoo0oo

"...and then, when the potion turned bright pink, I heard Seamus's eyebrows nearly singed right off!" Neville exclaimed. The group erupted into laughter while owls flew overhead.

The laughter slowly died down, and a familiar figure approached their table – Professor Lupin, whose worn robes hung loosely on his frame and had a kind but slightly nervous smile on his face. He stopped beside Lucas, clearing his throat softly.

"Harry," he began hesitantly, "I was hoping I might have a word with you in private, if that's alright?"

Curiosity flickered within Lucas, though his expression remained politely interested. He rose from his seat. "Of course, Professor." With a reassuring grin to his friends, he fell into step beside Lupin.

As they exited the Great Hall, Lupin's fingers fidgeted nervously at his side, as if he were grasping for the right words. "Harry, I... I don't know if you've heard, but there have been some recent developments regarding Sirius Black after he was declared innocent." He paused, gauging Lucas's reaction with apprehension.

Lucas maintained his interested facade. "Sirius Black? My godfather, right?"

Lupin nodded, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. "That's right. Sirius, your father James, and I were thick as thieves back in our Hogwarts days." His voice shook slightly, longing passing over his face. "The stories I could tell you, Harry... the mischief we used to get up to."

As they walked through the sunlit corridors, Lupin regaled Lucas with tales of the Marauders' adventures – sneaking out under James's invisibility cloak, discovering secret passages, and pulling pranks that left even the teachers chuckling. Lucas listened attentively, laughing in all the right places, even as he planned for something else.

"Your mother, Lily," Lupin continued softly, "she was the only one who could ever keep your father in line. Brilliant, she was, and kind to a fault. She saw the best in everyone, even when we couldn't see it in ourselves."

They paused outside Lupin's office, the professor's hand resting on the doorknob. He turned to face Lucas, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Harry, your parents were the most wonderful people I've ever known. Brave, loyal, and so full of love. And Sirius... he loved them just as much as I did."

Lupin inhaled deeply, composing himself. "I understand this is a lot," he said. "But Sirius truly wants to know you – his family. He's waited for this chance for a very long time."

Lucas nodded, a small smile on his face. "I understand, Professor. I'd like to meet him, to learn more about my parents from someone who knew them so well."

Lupin sighed in relief, and he reached out, placing a hand on Lucas's shoulder. "I'm so glad to hear that, Harry. I know it would mean the world to Sirius... and to your parents, if they were here."

Lucas suppressed a derisive snort at that. My real parents are in another universe, but let’s see if this can get me the Locket Horcrux without having to break into the house by force.