"Glug. Glug. Glug."
Inside the cauldron on the workbench, a turquoise potion rolled and bubbled over a low flame. The liquid simmered slowly, giving off an indescribable fragrance that filled the basement with a strange mixture of sweetness, metal, and something older than either.
"Everything is ready," Tyler Blake muttered.
He reached to the side of the workbench and picked up a wooden box. When he opened it, there was no treasure inside, no rare magical material, and no glittering jewel. There was only a handful of ashes.
They were his parents' ashes.
Tyler stared at them for a moment, then reached in and took a small handful. He sprinkled the ashes into the cauldron, watching them scatter across the surface of the turquoise potion before sinking into the bubbling depths.
"The bones of the parents, given unknowingly, may give birth to flesh."
He began to stir. The potion thickened slightly, the colour shifting in faint, slow pulses as if something beneath the surface had begun to breathe. Then Tyler picked up the Philosopher's Stone from the side of the workbench.
The blood-red stone gleamed under the basement light. This was the legendary creation of Nicolas Flamel, a treasure that could turn base metal into gold and produce the Elixir of Life. Yet Tyler did not hesitate for even a second.
He threw the Philosopher's Stone directly into the cauldron.
"The Philosopher's Stone, containing the power of endless life, is forcibly sacrificed so that bones may grow."
The moment the Stone entered the potion, the turquoise liquid began to change. The colour deepened, twisting from blue-green into dark crimson as Tyler continued stirring. Soon, the entire cauldron was filled with a blood-red potion that shimmered like molten ruby.
"Your own blood, given willingly, allows blood to flow."
Tyler took out a sharp dagger and drew it across his wrist without flinching. Blood welled at once, hot and bright, then dripped steadily into the cauldron. Each drop struck the potion with a faint hiss.
After his blood entered, the crimson liquid began to boil violently. Sparks burst from the surface like tiny diamonds, bright and dazzling, flashing across the basement walls. The fragrance in the air changed as well, becoming heavier, warmer, and faintly alive.
"The final step," Tyler whispered, his voice carrying a trace of fanatic excitement. "Only the final step remains."
He dealt with the wound on his wrist first. A quick healing charm sealed the cut, stopped the bleeding, and left only a pale line behind. Then he picked up the wand lying beside him.
The Elder Wand rested in his hand, smooth, ancient, and cold.
Tyler raised it slowly and aimed it at his own head.
His fingers began to tremble. Not from fear, but from the pressure of what he was about to do. The final and most important step of Equal-Fate Twin Magic was also the most dangerous.
He had to split his own soul, just as one would when creating a Horcrux.
"Soul split."
Tyler gritted his teeth and forced the words out.
In an instant, agony tore through him.
It was not pain of the flesh. His body was unharmed, yet the suffering came from somewhere far deeper, somewhere no ordinary spell could touch. It was the pain of the soul itself being cut open.
The sensation was worse than death. It felt as though a thousand blades were slicing through him at once, and billions of ants were gnawing at every part of his existence. His vision went white, then black, then white again.
"Ah!"
Tyler cried out in pain and clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. His already pale face turned even whiter, drained of the slightest trace of blood. He looked like someone who had just crawled back from the edge of a terrible illness.
Even through the agony, he did not let go of the wand. With shaking hands and ruthless control, he dragged the split fragment of his soul out of himself and guided it toward the cauldron.
The soul fragment slipped into the boiling potion.
At once, a thick white mist surged from the cauldron and swallowed the workbench. The fog spread outward, curling around the tools, the books, and Tyler himself, making it impossible to see what was happening inside.
Tyler fixed his gaze on the mist in front of him. Success or failure depended on this moment.
Soon, a body began to rise slowly from the enormous cauldron.
It was the body of a young boy, bare and dripping with potion, roughly the same age as Tyler. His build was similar as well, but his appearance was completely different.
The boy had curly blond hair, pale skin, and sharp, handsome features. Although he did not look like Tyler, he was every bit as good-looking, with a face that carried a strange mix of innocence and danger.
"Are you planning to leave me standing here like this, dear me?" the boy asked suddenly, opening his eyes.
His tone was teasing, and there was not the slightest confusion in his expression. He looked at Tyler as if waking naked inside a cauldron after a forbidden ritual was the most natural thing in the world.
"I don't have the strength right now," Tyler said, breathing hard. "There aren't any other clothes here anyway. Besides, there are only two of us in this basement, so it doesn't matter whether you're wearing anything or not."
Splitting his soul had not been easy. Even after the ritual succeeded, Tyler felt as if every part of him had been hollowed out. His magic was still there, but his spirit felt exhausted in a way sleep alone might not fix.
"From now on, you are me, and I am also you," the boy said as he climbed out of the cauldron. Potion ran down his skin and splashed onto the workbench. "If you are willing to let yourself walk around naked, I'm not."
He stepped down from the workbench and came straight toward Tyler. His movements were steady, graceful, and completely unbothered by the strangeness of his own birth.
"Give me the robe you're wearing."
"Take it yourself." Tyler lifted his arms and did not bother moving. "I'm tired."
"Am I not you?" the boy said with another teasing smile. "You telling me to do it myself is basically you telling yourself to do it."
"Do you want it or not?" Tyler asked impatiently. "I said I'm tired."
Although the person in front of him was another version of himself, the two of them did not share a single mind. Their thoughts were independent, their personalities distinct. The magic had created another self, not a puppet.
The so-called Equal-Fate Twin Magic was also known as the magic of good and evil twins. Between Tyler and the boy, one represented good, while the other represented evil. Tyler himself was the side of evil.
That was the true power of the spell. Unless the good twin and evil twin were destroyed at the same time, killing only one of them was meaningless. Even if one body and soul were completely destroyed, the other could allow him to be reborn at once.
It also meant that if either the good twin or the evil twin was harmed, the injury would be shared equally between them. Damage, pain, and even death could not fall on only one side while the other remained untouched.
In other words, the boy standing in front of Tyler was now equivalent to Tyler's Horcrux. Even if Tyler died now, as long as the boy still existed, Tyler could immediately resurrect. The same was true in reverse.
But this magic was far more advanced than a Horcrux. The only flaw was that it could not grant true immortality.
"Fine," the boy said at last. "For your sake, since we're technically one person."
He reached out, took off Tyler's wizarding robe, and put it on himself. The robe hung slightly loose on him, but it was enough to cover him, and that seemed to satisfy his dignity.
"Now I should choose a name for myself," the boy said, smoothing the front of the robe with unnecessary elegance. "What should I be called? How about Jamie Campbell?"
"Why that name?" Tyler asked.
He and the person in front of him were the same person, yet their thoughts were not connected. In a sense, this boy was another Tyler, born from the same soul but free to think, speak, and choose for himself.
"Because of my face, of course. And yours." Jamie laughed, his eyes glittering with amusement. "I dare you to imagine it. If the two of us appeared in front of Dumbledore or Grindelwald, they would probably be shocked speechless."
Tyler gave him a flat look. Jamie only seemed more pleased with himself.
"They might even start wondering whether one of them had betrayed the other," Jamie continued, grinning. "Or whether their younger selves had somehow travelled through time and come looking for them."
Tyler's current appearance looked very much like Dumbledore when he was young. Jamie's current appearance, meanwhile, closely resembled a young Grindelwald.
Or perhaps he was even a little more handsome than either of them.
.....
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