The slacker professor at Hogwarts

Chapter 156 Thus Heading Towards Self-Destruction

Chapter 156 Thus Heading Towards Self-Destruction

Ms. Mary has the blood of the "Time Explorers" Yaxley family.

The bloodline she utterly loathed.

She never imagined she would use this power from her bloodline, which was also related to the fact that her social class made it difficult for her to access time converters, which were strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic.

But she never imagined that she had used such an ability in the past she had lost.

Yes, even if she was unwilling to admit it, she genuinely felt her sensitivity to time.

The current time...

It was before she was born.

Why did she want to go back to that past? She didn't know.

She didn't even know why she ended up on this small island in Ireland.

Is there anything special about this place?

She quickly got her answer—she saw a witch wearing a burlap robe, exuding the dark magic of a banshee, hiding in a corner and secretly watching a very handsome wizard.

That witch...

It's her mother!

A witch who taught herself magic by using all sorts of random and dubious magical materials, eventually turning herself into something neither human nor ghost.

The wizarding world is not just the so-called center of the British magical society, nor is it just the Magical Congress of America catching up. Wizarding societies in every corner of the world have their own unique predicaments.

Haitian sorcerers often flee their impoverished homeland and wander the world, searching for a place where they can barely find shelter. No one can find the final resting place for their soul, and everyone lives a difficult life.

In their culture, seeking the protection of the strong is a normal practice, but unfortunately, the dependence her grandmother thought she had found was ultimately betrayed, and her mother continues to make the same mistake.

When Ms. Mary was a child, she was curious about who her father was, but before she grew up, her mother had gone completely insane and could no longer communicate with her.

She might wonder if this missing piece of life memory is the memory of finding her father.

So she looked at the handsome wizard with some wariness, her brow furrowed as she observed what would happen next.

Then she saw Coban Yaxley!

The evil wizard who stole this part of her life's memories appeared beside the handsome wizard, his obsequious manner surprising her.

Haitian wizards worship the strong, and Ms. Mary didn't need to look at her mother in the corner to know what kind of expression she would have at that moment.

There's nothing wrong with pursuing the strong; even someone as noble as Coban Yaxley of the Twenty-Eight Holy Pureblood Families became this man's lackey.

She followed them quietly and soon arrived at a tavern.

The island's population wasn't actually that large, and this tavern was arguably the liveliest place for most of the island's residents. She quietly slipped into the crowd, eavesdropping on the conversation between Coban and the wizard, and heard a name she could never have imagined—Voldemort!

Mysterious man!

She stared wide-eyed in disbelief at her mother peeking into the tavern from outside, swallowed hard, and felt a sense of absurdity.

How is that possible!

This is outrageous!

She suppressed her inner turmoil and carefully observed the wizard whom the professionally known as Voldemort, wondering if he could really be the great villain from history.

Soon, she saw a familiar face: Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.

Professor Lockhart strode in and began arguing with Voldemort. Voldemort then pulled out his wand, cut off his little finger, and threw it to Professor Lockhart, seemingly to say that he was severing ties.

Professor Lockhart seemed very angry, picking up the bloodstained finger and trembling with rage.

The scene before her was so absurd that even Ms. Mary was stunned. Was Professor Lockhart like this in private? Was Voldemort like this when he was young?

Unbeknownst to her, she had attempted to communicate with the mysterious, enigmatic force surrounding Professor Lockhart, and had begun to secretly monitor how everything was unfolding.

Finally, in the afternoon, she saw Professor Lockhart rush towards Voldemort's cabin, and the two argued again. Another familiar figure appeared: Hermione, one of Professor Lockhart's students, also joined the argument.

"What do you know?" Voldemort said to the 'siblings' in a very low voice. "I am always filled with anxiety about my own death and eternity. I want to be remembered as a master of magic like Merlin, rather than wasting my life in mediocre pleasures like you."

"You are indeed very kind and willing to help everyone, but seeing your numb and foolish appearance always makes me feel very embarrassed that we used to be good friends."

Professor Lockhart looked furious, while his sister Hermione sneered at Voldemort, saying, "You're wrong!"

Merlin is remembered not for his magic, but for who he was. His magical prowess is rarely mentioned in later generations; people tend to talk about the great life of this magical master when they tell stories about Merlin.

This clearly served as a wake-up call for Professor Lockhart, who told his sister to leave first, then took a chair and sat opposite Voldemort, looking as if he wouldn't rest until he had made things clear.

"I know you so well, my friend, but I have to remind you, you've gone down the wrong path!"

Lockhart looked at Voldemort with a serious expression. "You know this, don't you? But deep down, you're filled with despair. Because you've never experienced love, you know the void within yourself, and your magical path will never be complete..."

Voldemort's expression was somewhat strange, yet he seemed quite agitated. He said, "What can I do? I've tried so hard to get closer to a great wizard, but I've found that the closer I think I am to him, the further I drift away from him."

"I also tried to find my blood relatives, but my uncle was insane and full of malice towards everyone, including me, and my Muggle father despised and loathed my mother. It was all so hopeless."

"Ha, I knew it!" Lockhart sneered. "Your magic may seem to be about pursuing eternity and escaping death, but deep down you've long been in despair. Rather, you want to completely destroy yourself."

Voldemort merely looked at him indifferently, a cold smile on his face. "Oh, you understand me that well, don't you?"

"Of course, no one understands you better than me!" Lockhart said, waving his arms excitedly. "You didn't intend to do this, but you did it anyway, right?"

"This self-destructive tendency will soon turn into evil. By following that outsider, Coban, away from this island, you will only bring war and death to others, leading more people to their destruction!"

"You're always so smart, always able to clearly sense the contradictions in this world, and know what to propose that will completely set off this train that's carrying the world toward destruction."

"You know what kind of contradictions exist in this world, and you know what kind of slogans will convince everyone."

"But my friend, you can't do that! You're ruining your chance at salvation!"

Voldemort remained silent, but listened with great interest to the other man's eloquent discourse.

It's quite interesting that Tom Riddle, a Horcrux with a flawed mind, is influenced by the boastful Peacock's body and actually reveals his hand.

Despair over life and eternity leads to self-destruction?

Old Fu, this time I've really caught you red-handed!

(End of this chapter)