allendalepharm Chapter 294 Voldemort: Gilderoy, how about I do you a favor?
Chapter 294 Voldemort: Gilderoy, how about I do you a favor?
Chapter 294 Voldemort: Gilderoy, how about I do you a favor?
Aberforth is a typical Gryffindor who likes to view the world through the lens of "good guys" and "bad guys."
The centenarian was still full of childlike innocence.
This is not a derogatory term, at least not in Lockhart's eyes.
"Being able to immerse oneself so purely in the romance of fairy tales is a blissful thing," and Aberforth's strength is enough to support his own purity.
The only problem is that he didn't play a significant enough role in the "fairy tale".
Although his life was caught in the vortex of Albus and Gellert, he always managed to get a supporting role.
He was good enough to be a Gryffindor, but not a true champion.
In contrast, Severus Snape, though a Slytherin, was truly playing the role of a "warrior" at this moment.
He plans to kill the Great Demon King!
This is no simple matter. Even young wizards have heard some fairy tales about witches who are tied to a pile of firewood and prepared to be burned alive. Without a wand or any spellcasting materials, they can still curse their enemies to suffer some irreparable pain for generations to come.
Not to mention Voldemort wasn't some pitiful witch; he was the most dangerous dark wizard of all time.
This is a title that even Grindelwald couldn't get.
Dumbledore is only known as the "greatest wizard of our time".
Even in the realms of magic familiar to most wizards—spells, potions, transfiguration, defense against the dark magic, etc.—he is undoubtedly a master of magic in each of these areas.
This all-around genius is most skilled in the far more dangerous form of black magic.
This forces everyone to be extremely cautious.
When Snape planned to poison Voldemort, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Professor McGonagall, and Lockhart were all present.
Even if Voldemort was locked up there.
Such attention would be appreciated by anyone present.
Forbidden Forest, Stone House.
Snape gripped his wand tightly, holding a potion bottle in one hand, his lips pursed in silence, staring intently at Lockhart, who was inspecting the condition of the stone house.
After a while, Lockhart took a step back, nodded to everyone, and then waited with them for Dumbledore to come forward and inspect the magic he had applied.
Then came Grindelwald, who had previously cast a series of castle spells on it that even Dumbledore and Lockhart couldn't understand.
"Don't worry, he can't get out."
"You can go ahead and do whatever you want; any outcome will be within acceptable limits."
Grindelwald smiled and reassured the young Snape, displaying utmost vigilance towards Voldemort while also having absolute confidence in his own strength.
This little devil can't cause any trouble.
Dumbledore was clearly not so optimistic. He stood aside, holding the Elder Wand, his expression solemn, his mind involuntarily flashing back to the helplessness he had felt in the face of Voldemort over the past few decades.
He gave Snape a long look, and finally waved his wand.
The cold wind howled through the forbidden forest, and one could almost feel an indescribable loneliness.
Every stone in the stone house seemed to be trembling, suddenly splitting in the middle, with each stone flipping and shifting, eventually forming a stone archway in front.
It was pitch black inside the stone archway.
Suddenly, a warm and pleasant feeling came from the lonely, cold wind, like the contented joy of humming a tune.
"Depend on!"
Lockhart exclaimed in surprise, and seeing everyone looking at him, he touched his chest in astonishment, "Voldemort just cast a spell that traveled through Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to me and then back to me."
What he didn't say was that Voldemort's magic extended all the way to Tom Riddle, who was on the ghost ship in the river of time.
"It's blood magic!" Lockhart breathed a sigh of relief. "It doesn't seem to have had much effect on me."
coming!
That awful feeling is coming!
Dumbledore frowned deeply, sensing Tom's restlessness.
Immediately, everyone became alert.
soon.
Changes began to appear.
First, a candlelight shone in the darkness inside the stone archway, flickering, its light seemingly suppressed by the surrounding lonely, cold wind, making the surroundings not very clear.
However, the warm candlelight quickly broke free from the cold wind and spread rapidly in all directions.
Wherever it passed, everything inside the stone house seemed to flicker and refresh as if a layer had been replaced.
The old, patina-covered wooden floorboards with a glossy sheen;
Oak chest of drawers with grapevine and rabbit reliefs;
A fluffy and soft Muggle sofa;
Solid wood tea table —
Everyone looked in puzzlement at the scene inside the stone archway. It didn't look like a stone prison at all. There was even a window on one of the walls. Looking out through the snow-covered window sill, they could see the Pig's Head Bar across a small flower bush.
"This is my home!"
Lockhart marveled at the scene before him, the very house he had bought in Hogsmeade.
Blood magic —
Home----
There seems to be some interesting connection.
As expected of Voldemort.
Lockhart exclaimed in amazement.
Boom~
Pale, slender fingers emerged from the wide sleeves of the wizard's robe, pointing to the fireplace directly opposite the stone archway. A flame ignited in the fireplace, quickly driving away the last trace of cold air from the room.
With his wizard robes fluttering, the man turned around and gracefully looked at Snape outside the stone archway, smiling as if he were warmly welcoming an old friend who had come from afar.
"Please come in."
The words were not addressed to any specific person, but everyone outside the Stone House prison clearly felt that they were spoken to Snape.
"Severus!" Lockhart couldn't help but call out softly as he watched Snape about to go in without hesitation.
Snape glanced back at him, grinned with a faint yet resolute smile, then tossed his long hair and, like a giant bat, headed into the stone archway.
Everyone's self-light followed Snape closely, eventually stopping in the very center of the hall.
"Let me see what's here?"
Voldemort walked gracefully to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle, looked at it, and put it back. After picking and choosing, he finally selected a bottle of Remy Martin from the Muggle world.
Two empty wine glasses flew out of the cupboard, followed him all the way to the sofa, and then landed on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
Voldemort smiled at Snape. "Severus, it's been a long time."
Snape pursed his lips and remained silent, his gaze indescribably complex.
This was the banner he once followed fervently, yearning to change the world together.
This was also his mentor; Voldemort admired him so much that he didn't even mentor Barty Crouch Jr., whom he almost treated like a son, but instead taught him far too much magic (such as the flight charm).
They were once his close friends and confidants. They each had their own areas of exploration in potions, discussing, researching, and debating. That time was so wonderful that Snape often felt nauseous when he came into contact with potions again later.
This was also once his master. Yes, his master. Snape didn't shy away from this fact. Before his first death, Voldemort possessed an extremely compelling personal charisma. It made one feel that one would be willing to fight and struggle alongside such a person, even if it meant enduring endless suffering.
Now, everything, along with Lily's death, has shattered into pieces, a jumbled mess that churns in his stomach and rushes to his throat, choking him so much that he can't utter a single word, making him want to rush to a corner and gag.
A bottle of wine was handed over.
Voldemort waved his hand in a gesture. "I think I kept my promise to you and not to harm Lily Potter, but unfortunately, she stood between my wand and her son Harry Potter. Don't blame me for that."
"So, to honor a past promise, it's not too much to ask you to pour me a drink, is it?"
Not too much, right?
ha~
You dare mention Lily, and by Lily Potter at that!
Oh, is this a reminder that Lily got married, changed her surname, and has a son? Does that have nothing to do with me?
ridiculous!
Snape lowered his head, letting his long hair obscure his vision.
This is your own fault, you arrogant Voldemort. You made me pour you a drink, so don't blame me for adding something to it.
Potion administration is an extremely important branch of the field of potion-making, a skill that is not taught in magic schools and is firmly controlled by the major pure-blood families and the Ministry of Magic.
Snape knew it all too well.
He snatched the bottle and strode like a piece of wood, as if it were rotting and creaking, to the tea table and the wine glass, where he opened the cork.
To avoid arousing the villain's suspicion—yes, he knew all too well how powerful Voldemort was in potions—he drugged the entire bottle the moment he opened the cork.
Give it to Voldemort, and give it to yourself.
After he finished, he put the bottle on the table, took a few steps back, sat down on a single sofa, and remained silent.
"She has absolutely no sense of romance; no wonder nobody likes her."
Voldemort muttered something with obvious disdain, as if he were still talking to his closest and most trusted subordinate and student, and picked up his wine glass and swirled it.
In an instant, a layer of white frost appeared on the glass, and the chilled liquor shimmered with a unique light under the lamp.
Hey~
He chuckled inexplicably, picked up his wine glass, and sat down on the sofa opposite him.
"Tell me, what brings you here this time?"
"I don't believe you've come to offer my condolences."
Snape finally raised his head, his empty eyes reflecting Voldemort's image. He opened his mouth but didn't speak, then suddenly grabbed the wine glass on the table and gulped it down.
Finally, perhaps choking, he coughed very awkwardly.
He caught his breath before speaking in a hoarse voice, "Voldemort, do you regret it?"
"regret?"
Voldemort chuckled, elegantly swirling his wine glass, his voice full of mockery. "Regret what? Regret believing that prophecy you told me about my death? Or regret going to kill Harry Potter only to die the most miserable failure of my life?"
"Or is it regret that I'm too powerful, have too many followers, and crave too much, so I want to reshape the world to suit me?"
"No."
"Severus, I have no regrets whatsoever."
"That's how the path of magic works. Magic chose me, and then my actions chose magic in return, which led me forward."
Success or failure, it's just a state of being.
"I'm enjoying it."
"Enjoy success, and enjoy failure, even though failure is not always pleasant."
He flicked his index finger at Snape with the hand holding the wine glass, "You don't enjoy your magic at all, you even hate your spells and potions, it's a real shame that you can never get on the right path."
As he spoke, he picked up his wine glass, took a sip, squinted his eyes, smacked his lips as if savoring something, and then took another sip.
"A wonderful potion, Severus."
Snape's pupils contracted sharply, his hand gripping his wand tightly within his wide sleeves. He forced himself to suppress his overwhelming astonishment, staring blankly at the other man. "What are you talking about?"
"Your potion."
Voldemort took another bite and exclaimed in amazement, "The hatred is so intense that it is so glaring to my eyes, but I'm afraid this is the best I can ever manage to produce."
He groaned, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
He gently wiped it clean, then took a sip from his wine glass.
"It's a pity. You should be even more skilled, just like I am in the realm of dark magic. You shouldn't have stagnated here in potions."
"Even now!" Snape finally stood up, looking down at him coldly. "Even now, you still act like you're pointing fingers at me!"
Treat them like children.
"I'm almost seventy years old," Voldemort said, shrugging somewhat innocently. "Although I don't feel old at all, I must have the right to lecture you, a young man who once studied under me, in a superior position, right?"
"Oh~~"
He suddenly let out a long sigh and exclaimed, "Now I feel it."
The potion was taking effect rapidly, pulling at his soul little by little. In that instant, he could clearly feel the existence of each Horcrux, like magnets attracting each other yet repelling each other.
Then, this potion is keeping him away from these Horcruxes.
"What a unique effect!"
He sighed, picked up his glass again, took a sip, savored it, and couldn't help but exclaim again, "Severus, it seems you haven't lived these past ten years in vain; at least you've achieved something!"
Bang~!
His wizard's robe burst open at the chest, spraying blood everywhere, leaving a huge, gaping hole that seemed to hollow out his internal organs.
"Horoscope————"
Voldemort murmured, raising his pale arm and turning it over as if observing something, "The Horcruxes have truly and completely disintegrated."
In fact, Dumbledore was waiting outside the stone arch for the potion to take effect.
He was clutching one of the Horcruxes, Marvolo Gaunt's ring, tightly in his hand.
If you open your hand, you can see that the ring is quickly becoming dull and loses its luster.
Compared to the destruction of the Horcrux, the failure of the entire Horcrux magic is a more noticeable effect.
Dumbledore couldn't help but exchange a glance with Grindelwald and Lockhart, who were peering over.
Something's not right!
Grindelwald sensed a conspiracy. "I don't believe for a second that he would give up on himself and drink the drug knowing that Professor Snape was going to poison him."
Grindelwald and Dumbledore then both looked at Lockhart.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Lockhart looked completely bewildered. "You don't think I'm a mole, planning to help Voldemort or something, do you?"
"Oh, no, don't be nervous." Grindelwald's heterochromatic eye gleamed. "I just know that you're probably the one in this world who understands Voldemort better than anyone else, aren't you?"
"Tell me, what exactly is he going to do?"
Lockhart was speechless. "I know nothing. Nobody truly understands anyone else. And you're the one who said that."
"It was Albus who said that," Grindelwald retorted.
Dumbledore ignored him, observing intently. Finally, his expression shifted, and he drew his wand, sensing something in Lockhart. "You just said he cast a blood-related spell?"
"Yes!" Lohart nodded. "It's still in effect, but it doesn't show any aggressive tendencies. It's a positive effect and doesn't harm me at all, which prevents my Guardian Charm from working directly."
In fact, this spell has always been in a constant state. It was originally attached to the position of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it has been in operation ever since Lockhart incorporated it.
This is also why Voldemort couldn't kill Lockhart with the Killing Curse.
Just now, Voldemort merely "illuminated" this magic; more accurately, he illuminated himself and clarified his own existence at each stage of this magic's maintenance.
Compared to the past when summoning curses required directly killing Lockhart, this summoning is practically negligible.
"It seems Severus has no way to kill this monster."
"We have no other choice either."
Dumbledore finally grasped the crux of the matter, sighed, and said, "Blood magic, ah..."
Just like Harry Potter, even though he lived on Privet Drive, and countless wizards knew he had lived there since childhood, he was protected by blood magic and didn't have to worry about being harmed by Voldemort's ghost or the Death Eaters.
Some magic is just that powerful.
Even magic masters are helpless against these spells.
Just like how Voldemort needed to know the location of the Potters' house from Peter Pettigrew before he could actually push open the door and find them.
Good guy!
Lockhart also realized what was happening.
Think carefully!
Voldemort, who was previously considered too difficult to kill due to his Horcruxes, made people completely overlook the effects of blood magic.
He was protected by Voldemort's bloodline magic, but this magic would in turn protect Voldemort.
He simply hadn't considered this angle when he was weaker.
How could I have become Voldemort's protector?
So everyone looked at Voldemort through the stone archway with a sense of despair.
There, Voldemort, covered in blood, drank the wine in his glass, even as it spilled from the hole in his chest.
He stood up gracefully, smiling as he assessed his own condition, murmuring, "I'm still missing two parts."
"Part of it is magical blood, but that's not important." (Regarding Harry Potter)
"Part of it is my lost youth."
With that, he ignored Snape, who had already drawn his wand and was pointing it at him, and walked to the front of the stone archway.
He had no way to get out. The magical barrier set up by Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Lockhart was no joke, and he couldn't break free of the confinement in his current state.
He simply smiled at Lockhart. "Gidero, how about you do me a favor?"
"Huh?" Lockhart, somewhat taken aback under the gazes of Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall, pointed to himself. "Me? Help?"
"Yes."
Voldemort smiled and nodded.
Behind him.
With his wand raised high, Snape, having confirmed that the potion had worked and completely neutralized the Horcrux spell, could no longer suppress the resentment and malice within him. He let it surge forth from the depths of his heart, transforming into the most powerful magical force.
More powerful than ever before.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green light instantly shone from the tip of the wand.
only----
In the instant his hostility erupted, he seemed to completely lose sight of Voldemort, even though he clearly saw Voldemort standing right in front of him with his back to him.
They seemed completely unguarded.
despair!
An indescribable despair!
It was as if the attacking magic had lost its target.
"Avada Kedavra!" he cried out again, unwilling to give up. "Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!!! Avada Kedavra!!!"
! "
Useless!
None of them could be cast successfully!
"Aaaaaah~~~" He let out a mournful howl, and angrily lunged at Voldemort, throwing away his useless wand, trying to kill the monster with his fists, his teeth, and everything else he could.
However, blood magic is just that domineering.
He was so engrossed in his plan to fight that he could no longer see Voldemort, even though he was standing right next to Voldemort.
His desperate cries had no effect on Voldemort whatsoever.
Voldemort simply raised one hand gracefully, his fingers slowly lifting, and with this movement, Snape's neck seemed to be draped up as if by something.
"Yes."
Voldemort stood there barefoot, his wide wizard robes billowing in the lonely, cold wind, yet he still answered Lockhart with a calm smile, "How about doing me a favor?"
Behind him, Snape seemed to be being pulled up by the neck by a rope, slowly lifting off the ground, until he was suspended in mid-air. "No~~~~"
in.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Professor McGonagall unleashed all their magic at Voldemort, but these spells could only penetrate to another dimension and attack the real stone house.
As if Voldemort existed on another level, he simply stood there, smiling and waiting for Lockhart's answer.