Chapter 119 Voldemort
He, Ravenclaw's genius, was actually outmaneuvered by a brat in battle!
Before he could retaliate in embarrassment and anger, Hermione shouted again, "Expelliarmus!"
Having learned his lesson, Quirrell wasn't about to give a second thought. He swung his wand with unwavering resolve, and a beam of red light shot from the tip of his wand. But to his astonishment, at the same time, a beam of red light also shot out from Hermione's wand, hurtling towards him at lightning speed!
This time, it's for real!
The Disarming Curse is the fastest of all curses. If not prepared, a wizard often doesn't realize what has happened until he is hit by it.
Therefore, many dueling clubs around the world list the Disarming Charm as a required spell. On the one hand, it is not that powerful, and on the other hand, it tests a wizard's combat skills and ability to adapt to changing situations.
Clearly, Quirrell's adaptability is not high.
Two beams of red light met in the air. The same spell and the same disarming effect created a strange stalemate. They joined together like lightning to form a burst of arcs of light, and specks of red light fell like sparks from welding.
Quirrell's eyes widened, and in the intense flash of light, his face shimmered with the same crimson color, making it impossible to tell whether it was the glow of the light or the rush of blood to his head.
He never expected that a mere little girl could create such a stalemate with him!
His hand gripping the wand trembled with anger and shame, and the confidence and composure that had been on his face just moments before vanished.
It has transformed into this ferocious state!
"Damn it!" he roared, wicked thoughts churning within him along with surging magic power. The red light grew even stronger, and then—
"You've really disappointed me..."
It was a very soft, yet incredibly clear whisper.
Even though Hermione's brain had exhausted all its energy to maintain the spell and had no energy left to pay attention to the outside world, it still received it clearly.
Harry, who was struggling to fend off the statue's counterattack and whose ears were filled with the sounds of stones hitting and rubbing against each other, heard it very clearly!
That was a sound that was hard to describe.
Low, hoarse, and slippery... just listening to it evokes the rustling of bushes swaying in a forbidden forest at night, or the shadow of a venomous snake slowly slithering through a dark corner.
Hermione's pupils trembled with terror, reflecting the image opposite her.
There, the air was distorted and polluted, just as it had been on Halloween night last year. The scene surrounding Quirrell's black robe seemed to be manipulated by some force, twisting and contorting strangely.
A hazy gray color spread from the black robe, from the feet of Chilo, like a pervasive frost across the bridge.
The spell of the stalemate in the air suddenly ended.
It stopped silently, as if it had never existed. All Hermione could see was Quirrell, his hands covering his head, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry, Master... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."
He cried out and apologized, his face contorted in pain, almost unrecognizable. He banged his head against the ground as if hoping that smashing his head would expel the tormenting thing inside!
The voice did not restrain his self-harm; it continued to speak slowly and deliberately, in a hoarse, panting voice: "Stupid, useless, not even as good as those filthy rats in the forest, Quirinas... Quirrell... You are as ridiculous as your name!"
"I'm tired of always hearing you apologize, and then when I mercifully give you another chance, you always manage to do worse than before… Fighting back and forth with a little girl, ha…"
With that slick laugh, Hermione saw Quirrell suddenly clutch his head and roll around on the ground.
"No, Master, please spare me, please spare me..."
However, all that answered him was a series of hoarse hissing sounds.
Gradually, Quirrell's voice faded until it was completely silent. What a perfect opportunity! Hermione wanted to move, to take the chance to escape with Harry.
But she found that she couldn't move.
A cold sensation invaded her body, making her limbs stiffen.
My thoughts seemed frozen, unable to generate a single emotion.
It felt like falling into a deep, bottomless abyss, and all I wanted to do was sink into despair.
On the other side, "Kirlo" got up again.
The moment he stood up, the distortion in his vision intensified; everything was elongated and deformed, like water plants swaying eerily at the bottom of a lake.
"Oh--"
He let out a long exhale and turned his back to us...
No!
He wasn't looking at her, but at what was behind her, at... Harry!
"Harry… Potter… What an impressive name!" he said softly, waving his hand.
With a wave of her hand, Hermione's stiff limbs suddenly relaxed.
She staggered back a few steps and then bumped into a hard rock.
Turning around, she realized the stone was Harry!
Harry's "Queen," whose face was originally cold, showed a trace of pain. He struggled to move, protecting Hermione who had retreated to his side, and then looked at Quirrell... no, it should be said, the Dark Lord!
"Voldemort!"
Harry gritted his teeth and called out "his" name.
"Ah, you remember me?" Voldemort stood lazily in place, Quirrell's wand lightly between his fingers. He seemed quite pleased that Harry still remembered him. "Yes, it's me, Harry... May I call you Harry?"
"Don't talk to me in a shell, that's impolite, Harry." Voldemort chuckled, still maintaining a relaxed demeanor. "Especially since this shell was given to you by Dumbledore. He loves these fancy things, like the Transfiguration he used on you, and… this space!"
He slowly swept the wand, which was held between his fingers as if it might fall at any moment, across his body, and then a crack appeared in the void in front of him!
Although the wound healed quickly, he still expressed his disdain:
"Showing off skills, but useless!"
He commented, pointing his wand in the distance as he spoke.
Hermione didn't sense any trace of magic, but she clearly saw that as he touched it, the "Queen's" body began to disintegrate.
Large swaths of stone chips collapsed like sand and dust.
"Yes, face me with your true face, Harry. You don't know how long and painful it has been for me for the past eleven years, thinking of you every single day. I was just a shadow, wandering like smoke in the filthy, savage forest."
"Only by clinging to other life forms can I briefly embrace this world. For this, I have to endure the disgust and spend my days with rats and snakes, relying on them to draw life and regain my reason and thoughts as a human being... Harry, every time I chew on the stinking carrion and swallow the disgusting cockroaches, I am calling your name!"
"Harry Potter!"
Harry's "Queen" form completely collapsed, and he reverted to his original form, panting heavily. Hermione helped him up, and he instinctively looked up, trying to see the line of text describing the "Queen" that had been floating in his field of vision.
But even that disappeared at this moment.
The Queen's ascension was a power he couldn't comprehend, and at this moment, Voldemort casually dismissed the power he relied on, a power he couldn't understand.
This was the first time he had ever felt the other party's power so directly.
Hearing Voldemort's last words, Harry felt a chill run down his spine!
From afar, Voldemort, who had been holding back his words for so long, seemed to have released his pent-up frustration. He remained standing in place, urging, "Stop daydreaming, Harry, stand up, take out your wand, and join me in paying tribute to our reunion after 11 years in the way that is proper for wizards!"
"Harry!"
Hermione, who was supporting Harry, shook her head at him repeatedly.
In Hermione's eyes, if Quirrell's strength were like a lake, somewhat murky and unclear, but he could still gain some advantage through his cleverness.
Voldemort's power was absolute darkness, as deep as the abyss, unfathomable and incomprehensible!
There is absolutely no hope of winning!
Harry glanced at Voldemort, then at Hermione, and took a deep breath.
Just as he was about to say something, the narration from the sky began:
"The hero is about to meet his end, the demon king has awakened..."
"Noisy!" Voldemort raised his hand, and a beam of intense light shot into the sky. The narration abruptly stopped under the magic that Harry and Hermione couldn't understand, leaving only a fragmented echo like a radio with a poor signal:
"...A fire dragon...has appeared..."
roar--
In the distance, the castle began to shake, and a fierce dragon roar came from within.
The next moment, a huge shadow flew into the sky and swooped down.
Harry and Hermione stared blankly at the enormous figure, exuding boundless power, that existed only in legends and a few pictures—
Fire Dragon!
It swooped down violently, the air itself scorching at its appearance. Its enormous body, its ferocious appearance, every scale, every contour, all spoke of the brutality and terror of this legendary creature!
But Voldemort clearly didn't see it that way.
The two heard him whisper hoarsely, "Is this your trump card? Dumbledore, trying to guard your Philosopher's Stone with a lizard? Hah..."
...
"Quirinas is gone..."
As Quirrell tumbled to the ground, struggling, and then rose again, Vaughn heard Dumbledore's melancholy sigh from among the clouds.
Vaughn certainly knew why Deng would say that.
In his vision, which shimmered with magical light, he could clearly see that the flickering flame of life belonging to Quirrell on the black-robed man who had risen again below had been completely extinguished.
In the magical vision, any living being should have a colorful aura with a dazzling spectrum.
Even in sudden death, there should be a lingering glow.
But at this moment, Quirrell's life force had been replaced by a grayish-white light.
It dwelled within Quirrell's body, devouring all of Quirrell's remaining life spectrum.
"Tom..."
Dumbledore whispered, "This is his true face now, a gray shadow, a void rejected by the world, who has regained a brief sense of existence in this world by taking Quirinus's life."
"But in essence, he still doesn't exist; he's neither alive nor dead!"
Vaughn knew that Dumbledore's words were a warning to him. He had always worried that he would follow in Voldemort's footsteps, greedily and excessively studying forbidden knowledge, and turning himself into something neither human nor monster.
He didn't respond to Dumbledore's hidden thoughts, but simply looked down at Voldemort, watching him casually erase the Transfiguration effect from Harry's body.
The Dark Lord's former glory when he was alive can still be faintly seen!
But Vaughn just watched calmly and asked, "How long can he maintain this state?"
"I don't know either," Dumbledore answered honestly. "I have never made a Horcrux. Such vicious magic is difficult to understand without firsthand experience… but I suspect it won't last long. If Quirinus's lifespan could sustain him for a long time, he certainly wouldn't have lasted this long."
He sighed, "Tom has never been a patient man. To be honest, I'm quite surprised that he's been able to tolerate Quirinas until now."
Vaughn wasn't familiar with the Dark Lord's style, but he clearly saw what had just happened: "If Quirrell hadn't been so enraged that he wanted to kill Hermione and Harry, he probably would have continued to endure it."
"Yes... Tom doesn't want Quirinas to kill Harry!"
"Dumbledore murmured."
As he spoke, standing far away in the clouds, controlling the smoke screen, he once again unleashed a powerful surge of magical energy.
The air trembled, countless symbols flashed like stars, and the once calmly spreading smoke suddenly began to churn.
Then, Vaughn noticed that the world behind the smokescreen had changed.
Or rather, the smoke revealed the scene below that was originally inaccessible.
Those were countless dense threads, which pierced through the air, the soil, and all things, connecting and linking with each other to form a huge, indistinct "net" that covered everything!
"The Web of Fate!"
Vaughn couldn't help but take a few steps forward, standing at the edge of the magic carpet, looking through the smoke at the giant "net" slowly emerging between the sky and the earth below.
Of course, Vaughn knew that the so-called "web" did not mean that the objective entity of fate was the shape of a web.
This network is how Dumbledore, according to his plan, indirectly "depicted" it by completely controlling everything within the small world and monitoring changes in matter and energy.
Wherever they go, they leave a trace.
Just as Dumbledore showed Vaughn the "variables" of fate back in the Forbidden Forest, there is nothing in the world that can be completely detached from all things and yet exert influence over them.
The forces that influence things will inevitably leave traces because of the "influence" they exert. These traces are difficult to observe in the real world because there are too many and too complex variables, and no one can truly control reality.
Only in a "world" entirely constructed from alchemy and alchemical symbols can the creator leave a "backdoor" to monitor in real time changes in matter (energy), anomalies in the operation of symbols, and disturbances in the entire world system...
By compiling this information, we can indirectly reveal the trajectory of fate!
This was a plan that Vaughn had conceived long ago, when he first learned of the existence of destiny, but he had not put it into action for many years due to his own lack of power!
"Yes, the Web of Fate, Vaughn, your design has succeeded..."
Dumbledore's murmurs echoed from all directions.
At this moment, he has become part of the operation of this "world," and can be said to be omnipresent.
However, even if a human being were to forcibly control a "world," even if that world were only 50 miles in diameter (about 80 kilometers), as insignificant as dust compared to a real planet, the complex information feedback involved would still be beyond the processing capacity of the human brain.
Vaughn could hear the weariness in Dumbledore's voice.
"Albus, are you alright?"
"We can still hold on... Vaughn, keep an eye on Harry and Tom!"
Vaughn looked over upon hearing the sound.
Even though the world was filled with faintly visible threads, the fates of Harry and Voldemort were still reflected in Vaughn's eyes in the most conspicuous way.
It was a huge vortex made up of countless threads!
Standing on the covered bridge, the two figures, seemingly facing each other, were covered in faint threads, just like everything else around them. But unlike the others, these threads were wriggling, moving, and intertwining, propelled by some invisible force, like an ocean being pushed by an undercurrent, forming a distinct vortex with no visible boundaries, seemingly extending into the void.
Everything around them was caught in a whirlpool.
The closer you get to the two of them, the more tangled things become!
Vaughn heard Dumbledore's voice grow serious: "See? What a fierce clash! Their destinies are almost intertwined. Whenever they meet, everything around them is uncontrollably drawn into the vortex of their fates."
"Including themselves... Tom was influenced by fate, so when Quirinas truly intended to kill Harry, Tom immediately killed him, because at that moment in Tom's heart, no one but himself had the right to kill Harry. This had nothing to do with Tom's character, but was the decision of fate!"
Vaughn remained silent, listening attentively.
For a fleeting moment, he had the idea of casting a Fiendish Flame spell on the Dark Lord and the Savior, to see how fate would save them.
However, it's just a thought; Hermione is still there!
Moreover, Vaughn was unsure of the consequences of his rash intervention in fate, and until he had sufficient certainty, he preferred to remain calm and wait for the right moment to act.
Thinking it over, he looked away:
"Albus, let Noberta out. Harry is no match for Tom, and it's time for the next experiment!"
The next experiment is called Time!
The appearance of the fire dragon did not stir any ripples in Voldemort's mind.
Even though he is now down on his luck, has lost his physical form, and lingers in the world like a lowly shadow, he is still a legendary wizard who was once the Dark Lord and was on par with Dumbledore.
In his eyes, the tiny fire dragon was indeed no different from a lizard!
The fire dragon swooped down, its huge membranous wings fanning out a fierce wind, and dust swept across the covered bridge like a sandstorm, making people's eyes go blind.
But Voldemort just watched quietly as it swooped down to within 60 feet, as it swung its long neck and opened its mouth wide.
suck--
A visible stream of air flew into the dragon's mouth.
Its enormous, originally emaciated body had swelled up.
At the neck, the scales were stretched taut, and beneath the exposed translucent skin, rings of red light rapidly gathered towards the throat. The next instant—
call--
A burst of plasma flames surged forth, leaping over the stunned Hermione and Harry, and spraying towards Voldemort, engulfing him and everything around him!
The severed limbs of the stone statues on the ground were almost instantly dispersed by the flames, and the stone bridge surface turned crimson, shattered, and peeled away at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Countless scorched fragments were swept into the air by the force of the flames, leaving a trail of blazing red smoke in their wake.
A terrifying supernatural force unleashed its power in the most violent way.
Harry and Hermione didn't realize until several seconds later that they had activated the Iron Mantra, not to fight the dragon, but to protect themselves from the lava splashing from its breath.
Yes, that covered bridge was completely burned down!
After an unknown amount of time, the fire dragon finally stopped.
Harry's eyes widened as he stared at the billowing smoke and the faintly reddish glow of the bridge surface, a look of surprise and delight creeping onto his face.
"Burned like this, Voldemort should be dead, right?"
But when he asked her, Hermione shook her head. She didn't say anything, but pointed to the fire dragon that had suddenly appeared and attacked Voldemort.
Harry looked in that direction and saw the fire dragon that had just unleashed a powerful breath attack, its sharp eyes still fixed on the area that had become a pool of lava.
It seems like they're... on guard?
Soon, Harry spotted the object of its suspicion—
As the thick, billowing smoke began to thin, a human figure kneeling on one knee in the lava came back into their view.
The humanoid figure, like the ground beneath its feet, had been scorched into a state of magma. The air, distorted by the high temperature, surrounded it, and everywhere there were crackling sounds as the flames receded and cooled rapidly.
The humanoid figure moved.
He slowly raised his head in that hellish scene, and countless crimson fragments peeled off his body, revealing the dim magical radiance flowing beneath his outer shell.
"A boring little trick..."
Voldemort's hoarse voice rang in my ears again.
He stood up, and at the same time, Harry heard another gasp.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fire dragon's body swell up again, with red lines flowing beneath its scales and gathering towards its throat.
Just as Harry was watching Voldemort expectantly, anticipating the dragon's breath to engulf him once again...
He saw Voldemort lazily raise his wand.
no!
We mustn't let him cast the spell!
Harry said to himself.
He suddenly drew his wand, pointed it at Voldemort, and shouted, "Except for you—"
Bang!
Harry didn't see what happened at all; he only felt a blur before his eyes and was suddenly lifted into the air.
"Harry! Harry's flying here!"
Hermione screamed the spell, and Harry's perspective suddenly flipped and reversed. He saw Voldemort doing something, and the dragon's neck, which was preparing to breathe fire, suddenly exploded, scales and flesh turned inside out, and hot, magma-like blood gushed out.
The next moment, he fell to the ground, breaking out in a cold sweat—only then did he realize that he had landed almost on the edge of the covered bridge. One could imagine that if Hermione hadn't just pulled him back with the Summoning Charm, he would have already fallen.
Harry turned around with a look of horror still in his eyes.
On the other side, Voldemort slowly emerged from the lava, the hem of his robe ablaze with fire, and his shoes burned to ashes.
But he walked out barefoot, step by step, through the crimson ground.
Amidst the distorted light and shadow caused by the high temperature, Harry heard his praise: "Beautiful Spell, little girl. I've heard Quirrell mention your name before, Hermione Granger? A Mudblood who seems to be a little clever. Besides you, there's another student from the Weasley family named Vaughn... That good-for-nothing Quirrell is impressed with you both and always tries to make me remember you."
"What a pity..."
Stepping on the flowing flames, he arrived in front of Harry and Hermione, looking down at the stunned Harry and the wary Hermione who stood protectively in front of Harry. "I wish I could play with you a little longer, Harry, and Granger, if only I had more time, if only I wasn't just a shadow..."
"Now, please wait a moment while I get the Philosopher's Stone. I need it to concoct the Elixir of Immortality. Once I'm resurrected, Harry, I'll give you my proper greetings."
The next second, amidst the scorching heat, his figure twisted and disappeared, and in the blink of an eye, he appeared before the wailing fire dragon.
"Let me see where Dumbledore hid the Philosopher's Stone?"
He casually raised his wand:
"Imperio!" (Astral projection)
The moment he heard the spell, Harry's eyes widened, and he instinctively raised his wand, wanting to cast a spell to stop it.
Hermione, standing beside him, was about to unleash a burst of red light from the tip of her staff.
Since witnessing the Killing Curse on Halloween night, Harry and Hermione have learned about this kind of terrifying curse through various means.
The incantation for the soul to leave the body!
This dark magic, which has no counter-curse, was widely abused more than a decade ago during Voldemort's reign, to the point that many Death Eaters used the excuse of being afflicted by the Imperius Curse to escape trial after the war.
The History of Magic clearly records this history, and the spells were also seen by the two of them in the History of Magic. Of course, it did not teach how to learn them.
But the two were well aware of its effects.
If that dragon was indeed used by Dumbledore to guard the Philosopher's Stone, then it must have known where the Stone was, and if it were controlled by the Imperius Curse...
Voldemort must be stopped!
But their actions couldn't change the fact that Voldemort had already used the Unforgivable Curse. Time seemed to slow down at that moment. Harry watched as a spell shot out from the tip of Voldemort's wand, while his and Hermione's spells hadn't even taken shape yet.
His eyes widened in horror, his expression frozen in place.
Then he saw the fire dragon, which Voldemort had casually injured, struggling to reach its front paws up to its neck.
It was only then that Harry noticed that the dragon was wearing a golden necklace, which shimmered with a golden luster against its dark scales.
It was just because it was too small, and the fire dragon's previous appearance was so grand, that no one noticed it.
Harry saw the dragon's enormous claws clumsily flicking the hourglass-shaped pendant of the necklace.
Shocked, surprised, and bewildered!
When the dragon moved the pendant, all sorts of emotions overwhelmed Harry's consciousness.
He stared blankly at what was in front of him, and at his surroundings.
As the pendant was moved, everything around him began to rewind, like a videotape playing in reverse.
Voldemort, barefoot, stepped out of the lava and retreated back into it. His burned shoes and robes reappeared on his body until he was encased in stone and flames rained down from the sky.
The dragon's ferocious breath also presented a bizarre scene; it first appeared on the covered bridge, and then slowly retreated back into the dragon's open mouth.
The thick smoke and bursts of flame from the burning resembled a swarm of bees, densely surrounding the scorched area before quickly returning to the covered bridge.
Immediately afterwards, the flames were swallowed into the dragon's mouth, and Voldemort was restored to his neat black robes. The fire dragon flew back into the air, letting out a deafening roar.
Harry, who was completely out of control throughout the process, blinked and tentatively reached out his hand. Hermione beside him did the same.
"Hermione, you..."
"Harry…"
The two looked at each other, their minds still reeling from the shock, neither knowing how to react.
What happened?
what happened?
"Time has reversed!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, her wide eyes fixed on the fire dragon, which hovered in the air but no longer swooped down or breathed its fire. "That dragon... it reversed time back a few minutes..."
"Well..."
...
At the same moment, Vaughn, who was in mid-air, also reached out and wiggled his fingers.
He had never used a time converter in the real world, nor had he ever truly experienced time travel—time travel doesn't count—this was his first time experiencing time in every sense!
"It's amazing..."
He turned to look around.
As far as he knew, time travel in reality would involve encountering one's past self, but he didn't see that here.
He looked at Dumbledore thoughtfully: "You modified the mechanism of the Time-Turner?"
Yes, child.
Still controlling the smokescreen and monitoring the fate of Harry and Voldemort, Dumbledore replied softly, "The original Time-Turner, using the area enclosed by the gold chain as a spacetime barrier, works on the same principle as your previous description of spacetime—an independent spacetime bubble."
"It doesn't have the ability to reverse time in reality; it can only use time bubbles to travel through the cracks in time and send people back to the past. But in this 'world,' with my help, time can be reversed..."
Vaughn pondered for a moment, then asked, "What would happen if it kept flowing backward?"
Knowing the reason behind his question, Dumbledore replied humorously, "We will return to the beginning of creation, my dear."
Vaughn nodded, watching as the dragon Norbert soared and tumbled within the massive vortex of fate between Harry and Voldemort below.
After a moment, he chuckled softly, "My guess was right. In a small world independent of reality, the past can be changed. It seems that time and fate in reality were not always in the current pattern."
"...Yes, although I'm reluctant to accept it, your theory does seem to be correct..."
Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, then asked, "So, did an observer really exist in the real world? Was it someone who established the rules of our spacetime, changing the past, present, and future?"
Chapter 120 Hello, Dark Lord
This is a question that no one can answer.
If such an observer truly exists, it would be terrifying. It would mean that everyone is being controlled by an invisible hand, and if we cannot break free from this hand, we will never see the truth.
Vaughn, of course, couldn't give an answer either. He simply corrected, "It's not about the past. He could exist in the past, or he could exist in the present, or he could exist in the future. For an being that can manipulate time, the distinction between past, present, and future is meaningless. He could exist in any spacetime."
"Like ether?"
"Yes, just like ether!"
"That's really scary…" Dumbledore said, but his tone was tinged with amusement. "This concept is a bit like the higher-dimensional beings you mentioned before. You said that the ultimate goal of wizarding might be dimensional ascension? Is it possible that this observer is the future wizard?"
Of course, that's possible.
Vaughn nodded: "Maybe it's me or you in the future, or maybe Harry or Hermione? Who knows!"
Talking about the observer's identity is meaningless before we can detach ourselves from the real world, because it doesn't change anything.
Compared to the real, ethereal observer, Vaughn was more concerned with the ongoing experiment. He took out his notebook and, with the help of the smoke, carefully observed the movements of the vortex of fate and various scenarios under which the past of this "world" could be changed.
Dumbledore stayed with him, quietly observing and recording together.
He only suddenly said at one point, "Tom is trying to invade this world."
"Hmm? He knows alchemy too?"
"Of course, although he didn't have any outstanding achievements, Tom was indeed an alchemist. Horcruxes are both black magic and a branch of alchemy that originated from the despicable Herpo, which used life and soul as raw materials for alchemy."
Upon hearing this, Vaughn regretfully put down his pen. "Alright, the relevant research can be carried out later. Now, isn't it my turn to make my appearance?"
"Ha, if Granger could truly understand… yes, to be precise, the you of the past…"
"But in this world, what's the difference between me and who I am now? By the way, if time could go back to the beginning of creation, what would happen to Harry, Hermione, and Ron?"
"They will remain here, after all, they are not creations of this world, and time here cannot truly send them back to more than two months ago!"
"Since their times are synchronized yet independent, their respective material states cannot be shared?"
"...Child, next time please use language that an old man can understand to summarize, okay?"
...
"Time converter..."
Voldemort raised his head, looking at the fire dragon flying in the sky, unwilling to come down, only spewing flames from afar, and a thoughtful look flashed across his ugly face.
There are still doubts.
He was no stranger to the Time-Turner. Although he hadn't been able to apply for that alchemical artifact during his student days due to Dumbledore's prejudice, he had once stolen a Time-Turner from the Silent Ones while working at Borginborough after graduation.
But not long after, he gave up his interest in studying it—the past couldn't be changed, and having more time didn't appeal to him.
Moreover, there are some time-related spells in the spell system, such as the Restoration Spell, which, in a sense, reverses the time of an object, returning its temporal properties to before it was destroyed.
There is also the Flashback Charm, which is often used by wandmakers to rewind the spell's history. This charm can even pull back the historical projection of people who died by the wand from the river of time.
But neither time converters nor any time-related magic can reverse the state of everything around us as it was a few minutes ago.
Is it because of this space?
His eyes gleamed with a faint grayish-white light, and countless stars emerged from the surface of everything, instantly revealing the true nature of space before his eyes.
Voldemort's journey from contemplating the anomaly of the Time-Turner to using magic to observe the truth of the "small world" and beginning his attempt to infiltrate it was actually quite short.
Harry and Hermione only saw Voldemort ponder for a moment, then his eyes suddenly lit up with a faint, eerie light.
Then he stretched out his hand, and instantly, the world shook!
Harry staggered and supported Hermione, looking around in panic. He didn't know what had caused the tremor or what was happening.
But his intuition told him that the anomaly in the "world" was related to Voldemort.
The most direct evidence is that the fire dragon in the sky, which had used time reversal to heal its injuries and then dared not come down again, suddenly became agitated after the tremor occurred.
It roared mournfully, flapping its broad membranous wings with force. After hesitating for a few seconds, it suddenly swooped down from the sky like a resolute black lightning bolt, its thick hind claws grabbing at Voldemort.
Even someone as weak as Harry could see from the previous battles that the dragon was no match for Voldemort and was completely overwhelmed.
really.
The fire dragon's fierce pounce was stopped 10 meters away from Voldemort. An air barrier, which appeared out of nowhere, stuck to the fire dragon's claws like a swamp.
The fire dragon roared and struggled, its body swelling up again, the fiery red color flowing and gathering under its skin.
"A noisy little lizard!"
Voldemort, his eyes gleaming slightly as he gazed at the sky, sensed the dragon's brewing breath. Like someone busy with work but getting impatient with ants bothering him, he barely managed to pull some attention away from his "work" and glanced at the dragon.
The tip of the wand tilted, and he casually pointed.
puff--
The fire dragon was sent flying backward, and its huge, emaciated body suddenly split open with wounds, spurting out large amounts of viscous blood.
The fire dragon let out a huge scream.
The violent sound waves echoed across the covered bridge, making Harry dizzy. What confused him even more was that he couldn't see what Voldemort had just done.
With just a flick of the opponent's wand, the fire dragon was severely injured!
He gripped his wand tightly, and beads of sweat poured from his forehead and back. People always have an instinctive fear when facing the unknown.
Harry was no exception; Voldemort's magic was completely unknown to him.
I can't understand it, and I can't think of a way to fight it!
But he also understood that the situation could not continue like this; Voldemort had to be stopped, and someone had to step forward!
Who else could it be?
The only ones here who can fight Voldemort, besides the fire dragon that flew backward, covered in wounds and howling in pain, are him and Hermione!
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his hands trembling slightly from tension and fear. He desperately tried to recall the spells Professor Flitwick had taught him, and the spells Vaughn had taught him.
Like a drowning person, anxiously and desperately searching for a way to save the current situation, even if it's just a straw!
"Harry…"
Hermione grabbed his arm.
Harry knew Hermione didn't want him to be reckless; the two people and one dragon present were as small and fragile as ants in front of Voldemort.
Taking action rashly is tantamount to suicide.
However, there are some things that must be done!
He took a deep breath, looked at Hermione, and said in a choked voice, "Don't stop me, Hermione. Just like the centaur's prophecy, stopping Voldemort is my destiny. One of us must die for it all to end. It seems today is the end of my fate. I will fight him with all my might. You take the opportunity to run..."
He choked up and couldn't continue.
How could a 12-year-old child not be afraid of death?
Seeing him sobbing uncontrollably, Hermione blinked. "Harry... I meant, I know how to stop Voldemort!"
"?"
Harry's crying stopped abruptly, and he stared blankly at Hermione, snot still hanging from the corner of his mouth.
"...What's the meaning?"
Hermione glanced into the distance at Voldemort, who was waving his wand and causing the "world" to tremble. She whispered, "Did you notice the alchemical artifact that dragon was using? It could turn back time!"
Harry's mind was a mess: "So?"
"Idiot!" Hermione scolded. "Time travel, don't you understand? We can use that alchemical artifact to turn back time here to a long time ago, back to when its owner was still alive… Dumbledore! This world was created by Dumbledore, we can go back in time and have the Dumbledore of the past help us defeat Voldemort!"
Harry's confused mind finally understood Hermione's words. His eyes widened, and the lingering fear and sadness on his face quickly twisted into ecstasy!
"Hermione, you..."
"Shhh-keep it down!"
Harry covered his mouth, nodded repeatedly, and urged, "Then let's get started!"
"How do we begin? Are we going to walk right up to the dragon in front of Voldemort, take off its necklace, and openly manipulate that hourglass-like pendant?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "We need a plan, we need something to distract Voldemort!"
"Uh..." Harry, who thought it made a lot of sense and had never even considered it before, gave up trying to think of anything else. "So, what's your idea?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment: "The Philosopher's Stone! Voldemort's goal is the Philosopher's Stone. If we find it, we can use it as bait..."
Voldemort would definitely fall for that trick!
Harry immediately understood Hermione's intention, and he gave a wry smile: "Hermione, we don't have the Philosopher's Stone, so your method..."
"No, I know where the Philosopher's Stone is!"
"ah?"
Hermione opened her handbag and gently took out the "Wishing Pen" she had obtained in the first level.
A dialogue box with an oil painting-like style slowly unfolded before their eyes, containing the familiar description of the prop:
[Wishing Brush: A magical brush used in the world of paintings. When you make a wish upon it with sincere faith, it can draw whatever you desire!]
[Number of uses: 1/3]
The description was unremarkable. In Harry's mind, it was just a fun and somewhat practical toy with limited usage, and he didn't pay much attention to it.
But at this moment, after hearing Hermione's words and seeing this description, Harry suddenly felt that he was hopelessly stupid.
"Hermione, when...when did you come up with this idea?"
He still harbored a glimmer of hope.
Hermione glanced at him, saw through his thoughts, and said coldly, "I thought of that the moment I got it."
"..."
Deeply affected by the intellectual gap, Harry was embarrassed for a moment, then tried to shift the blame: "Why don't you say that we wasted two attempts, otherwise we could have drawn three Philosopher's Stones!"
"Idiot! Have you even listened to Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall's lectures? Magic cannot create things out of thin air. Any magic that seems to be related to creation is just transferring an existing object from somewhere else!"
Harry shut up, looking annoyed.
Hermione wasn't lying; from the moment she received the "Wishing Pen," she knew its true purpose.
The others, including Quirrell, or rather Voldemort, did not truly take the process and reward of the first level seriously, because logically, such a huge space with such an important magic stone would definitely be heavily guarded and could not possibly be placed in the first level.
But in reality, the first challenge, a Muggle logic puzzle to find the true guide, is not just a simple brain teaser; the question itself is telling the test-taker something.
We need to learn to break free from rigid thinking patterns.
In the distance, the fire dragon, struggling to its feet, was wounded once more. It howled, and a large amount of magma-like blood gushed out, yet it dared not turn the pendant.
Because Voldemort is interfering with this space, and also because he needs to use the pendant's function to ward off possible dark magic!
Voldemort also noticed this.
The time converter was not an insurmountable problem for him; what truly left him helpless in reversing time was the unique nature of this space!
Once the space itself is deciphered and its symbolic structure is destroyed, a small lizard will be nothing more than a trivial problem that he can easily deal with.
Retrieving the wand that had been used to cut the dragon, Voldemort once again used his magically shrouded eyes to observe the space filled with symbols.
In his more than 60 years of life (Voldemort was born in 1926 and was 66 years old at the time), his soul absorbed a vast amount of knowledge.
Alchemy was a tiny fraction of his total knowledge, but the problem with alchemy was that anyone with talent could see it and learn it!
Moreover, creating something is difficult, like building with blocks, but if you want to destroy it, you usually only need to give it a gentle push!
He devoted most of his energy to finding the weak points in the symbolic structure of this space, and didn't even bother with Harry and Hermione.
What can two first-year wizards possibly do?
No... even first-year wizards are different.
Voldemort suddenly remembered Vaughn Weasley. He hadn't told Harry the truth, but he actually had a deep impression of Vaughn.
Throughout his long life, Voldemort had met many geniuses, and he himself was a genius among geniuses.
But of all the people he had ever met, no one had ever managed to put him in such a sorry state as Vaughn had done on Halloween last year, forcing him to use the Killing Curse despite his own weakness.
After that night, he kept trying to learn about Vaughn Weasley, including Hermione's name, which he remembered because of her connection to Vaughn.
The Dark Lord, of course, couldn't admit that he still had feelings for a first-year student, so when he talked about Vaughn and Hermione, he made Quirrell take the blame.
Quirrell's final value is limited to this.
Voldemort impatiently felt the waves of weakness emanating from deep within his body. Foolish good-for-nothing, more trouble than good, even his body is too fragile to withstand his magic!
The wand in his hand trembled slightly.
It is trying to resist his control!
Voldemort knew he didn't have much time left. He needed to speed things up, dismantle the space as quickly as possible, and then capture the fire-breathing lizard to force it to hand over the Philosopher's Stone!
Just then, he heard Harry shout, "Voldemort! Look here!"
Boring, rude, and annoying little boy!
Voldemort felt that perhaps his attitude had been too lenient, which had made his dear Harry a little arrogant. He maintained the magic on his eyes while turning his wand around, preparing to teach Harry a lesson.
Then he saw Harry raise his hands high.
Granger stood beside him, lightly touching Harry's palm with a paintbrush.
As she closed her eyes and silently recited the mantra, the paintbrush gradually disappeared, and at the same time, a stone appeared in Harry's palm.
The stone was only the size of a fist, and it was scarlet all over, as red as blood, yet as translucent as a gemstone!
So beautiful, it seems to contain an indescribable mystery!
"The magic stone..."
The tremors in the space stopped at some point, and the two dim, grayish-white lights that had been shining under Voldemort's hood went out. His ultimate goal had been achieved, and there was no longer any need to invade the space.
Harry felt a surge of joy as he sensed the spatial tremors cease, but he remained vigilant, knowing that Voldemort was watching him, watching the Philosopher's Stone in his hand.
Because Voldemort removed his hood, revealing the face he had been concealing—a face that made Harry gasp: a wrinkled human face embedded in the back of Quirrell's head.
His skin was a chalky gray-white, bloodshot, and his bright red eyes reflected the sunlight like gleaming, piercing blades.
What horrified Harry even more was that below those eyes, where the nose should have been, there were only two thin, elongated openings.
At first glance, it looks as if a human face and a snake have been pieced together!
Harry staggered back a few steps.
"Are you scared, Harry?" Voldemort was unconcerned about Harry's fear. He never thought there was anything wrong with his appearance; it was an outward manifestation of his superior bloodline. Only the ignorant would be bound by likes and dislikes about appearance and ignore the profound magical attainments that his appearance revealed.
Of course, he wouldn't explain anything; Harry Potter is, after all, just an ordinary person!
Voldemort stretched out his hand and said softly, "Boy, give me the Philosopher's Stone!"
Hearing his voice, Harry snapped out of his shock and took a few steps back to the edge of the covered bridge: "Don't come any closer, or I'll throw it down!"
Voldemort, who had only taken two steps, stopped, not only because of Harry's threat, but also because he saw Granger, who had been guarding Harry, suddenly running towards the dragon.
Voldemort blinked his bloodshot eyes: "Kids, what tricks are you playing?"
He raised his wand.
Upon seeing his movement, Harry immediately turned around and shouted at the top of his lungs.
He threw the magic stone forcefully off the cliff outside the covered bridge.
This action was undoubtedly beyond Voldemort's expectations.
He had to retract his wand, which he had intended to use to cast a spell on Granger, and his gaze followed the crimson stone that streaked through the air and plummeted toward the cliff.
The next moment, with a soft "poof," his figure twisted and squeezed into the air, instantly leaping to the outside of the corridor bridge. As his body fell, he desperately reached out to catch the magic stone.
Even at this moment, Voldemort remained calm. Foolish Harry Potter, did you really think that throwing the Philosopher's Stone off the cliff would stop him?
To die at the hands of such an ignorant fool is the greatest disgrace of his life!
Then, catch the magic stone.
Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief and used Apparition to warp space again before he could focus on Granger. He saw that Hermione had already run to the dragon.
The thick blood flowing beneath the fire dragon made her stumble and fall, looking disheveled, but she still desperately ran to the fire dragon, pointed at it, and shouted something at it.
Then, Voldemort saw the dragon tilt its head, then extend its claws and forcefully, resolutely, turn the pendant.
call--
Everything in sight was stretched out the instant the pendant spun!
Voldemort felt himself flying, retreating as if flying, the scenery on both sides of his vision being stretched and quickly becoming blurry outlines, constantly moving forward.
Gradually, they turned into blurry blocks of color and cloud-like objects in his eyes, twisting and drifting, at a terrifying speed that exceeded the limits of mortal imagination, and were thrown into the ever-receding distance ahead, into a channel made of light.
Constrained by this unique space-time confinement, Voldemort was unable to move and could only barely cover his eyes with magic to observe what was happening.
He saw that this "world" was collapsing...
Or rather, it is returning to its original state: the sky, the land, the forest, the river... everything seems to have been erased, becoming smaller, fainter, and disappearing!
The forests are gone, the mountains are gone, and the gradually empty world is left with only the omnipresent light.
In a split second, the light disappeared!
In the pitch-black space, Voldemort saw himself, Granger, and Harry as specimens encased in ice, flying backward through what seemed like an endless void.
Voldemort, with his profound magical skills, almost immediately understood that they did not originally belong to the timeline of this "small world," so although time had reversed, they had not disappeared along with the mountains and the earth.
The only one affected was the fire dragon.
Although it did not belong here, it grew up in the small world, and Voldemort saw its size rapidly shrink under the power of time.
From a nearly adult fire dragon to a fledgling dragon that has just hatched!
Then, a pair of hands appeared in the misty, time-reversed atmosphere. The hands did not look very big, with long, slender, and fair fingers. And its owner was a composed young man wearing a Slytherin robe!
As time rushed backward, he appeared, disappeared, and reappeared before their eyes.
Then freeze!
The passageway of time has vanished.
Voldemort, Harry, and Hermione felt their feet firmly on the ground again, and their vision refocused; they found themselves standing in a large hall.
The hall was empty, without any decorations. Their gazes were not on the hall, but on the boy, watching him bend down and pick up the fire dragon that had become a fledgling.
"Vaughn!"
Harry and Hermione exclaimed in surprise and delight.
They were delighted to see Vaughn, but surprised because they had expected Dumbledore to appear!
"Hello, Harry and Hermione."
Holding Norbert, listening to the grumpy little dragon's pitiful cries, Vaughn ignored it and smiled as he greeted Harry and Hermione.
Then he looked at Voldemort, his gaze sweeping over the man's slit-like nose: "Hello, Dark Lord, we meet again."
"...Ha, Vaughn Weasley…"
Voldemort let out a hoarse laugh, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Vaughn, and asked calmly, "You want to stop me too?"
"Yes." Vaughn nodded, pointing to the crimson stone clutched in Voldemort's hand. "You cannot take the Philosopher's Stone!"
"Well..."
Harry, who had assumed that Vaughn from the "past" might not know what had happened and might need explanations from himself or Hermione, was a little stunned when he heard their conversation.
Voldemort glanced at Harry and said with a sinister smile, "Harry, poor child, you and Granger don't understand time magic, so you don't know that time in the 'painted world' is independent of the outside world. Simply put, if time in the 'painted world' is reversed, it won't affect reality. So theoretically, no matter how you reverse time, Vaughn Weasley, who isn't in the painted world, can't possibly appear in front of you."
Harry was still a little confused.
But Hermione already understood, and she explained softly:
"Voldemort means that Vaughn was there the whole time we were going through the trials..."
"..."
Harry didn't know what expression to make. He thought back to the struggles and pain of the past few hours, and of Ron's sacrifice in Checkpoint...
"Harry!" Hermione noticed his expression and immediately reminded him, "Voldemort is doing this on purpose. He's deliberately trying to make you angry and suspicious. Don't fall for his tricks. Vaughn… Vaughn must have his reasons for not showing up!"
Harry stood there, stunned, unsure of whom to believe.
His inner turmoil clearly had no effect on Vaughn and Voldemort.
Voldemort, who had casually planted a seed of doubt in the savior, looked at Vaughn strangely: "Vaughn Weasley, are you the person you were in the past, or the person you are now?"
Vaughn himself didn't know the answer to this question. He was in a rather unusual state, being both his past self and his "present" self.
His thoughts included those of two months ago when he came to this space and settled Nobeta, as well as his current understanding of everything that had happened.
Moreover, the existence of these drastically different ways of thinking is also strange; they are not separate, but rather superimposed.
It's like he's in two different times and spaces, thinking at the same time.
Vaughn secretly noted this state of mind. He did not immediately answer Voldemort's question, as he remained extremely wary of Voldemort.
Perhaps at this moment, the former Dark Lord is barely clinging to life, weak and exhausted, but Vaughn will not underestimate a legendary wizard.
He stared at Voldemort for a moment, then suddenly drew his wand and cast a disarming spell!
With a whoosh.
A thick, powerful red beam of light shot towards him, far faster than a normal disarming spell. Even with Voldemort's reaction speed, he only managed to hastily draw an armor spell when the red beam was almost upon him.
A transparent barrier appeared in front of him, blocking the beam of red light.
However, the power of the max-level spell exceeded Voldemort's expectations. Not only was the spell itself extremely powerful, but it also nearly shattered the barrier formed by the Ironclad Spell.
It can also split!
The thick red light split into dozens of thin red snakes the instant it was blocked by the Iron Armor Curse. They slid and moved across the surface of the barrier like electric arcs.
In the blink of an eye, it bypassed the frontal barrier and launched itself towards Voldemort behind it.
Voldemort looked surprised, but with decades of experience in battle, he immediately changed tactics, his entire body twisting and turning into smoke—
Apparition!
Quirrell's body restricted Voldemort.
Voldemort understood this, and so did Vaughn!
This battle wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision by Vaughn; he had long considered seeking out Voldemort, who was currently in a battle-damaged state, to assess his own strength.
No dark wizard in the world is more suitable as his practice subject than the battle-damaged Voldemort!
As a former Dark Lord, Voldemort fought his entire life, possessing extremely rich combat experience and incredibly solid theoretical and practical knowledge.
However, at the same time, he lost his body and wand. He would have to praise Merlin if he could only use three-tenths of his magic, let alone use any powerful magic or unleash his special ability, the possibility of which is infinitely close to zero.
Therefore, in Vaughn's eyes, Voldemort was an excellent target with a very high lower limit, so high that many dark wizards could not reach it, but a very low upper limit!
Of course, Vaughn would not underestimate the Dark Lord.
He knew perfectly well what his weakness was when facing Voldemort—dark magic!
Voldemort's forte was dark magic, not only the three Unforgivable Curses, but also various poisons and curses. The variety was so great that even Dumbledore, who had taught Voldemort, did not know exactly how many he knew.
Fighting a legendary wizard in his sixties who could almost be called a "walking encyclopedia of black magic," Vaughn certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to engage in a long-range spell war with him.
Perhaps by relying on his maxed-out Disarm Charm and Ironclad Charm, he could temporarily gain the upper hand.
However, Voldemort could easily figure out his monotonous attack methods and counter them.
At the very least, the excessive distance would give Voldemort ample opportunity to secretly cast his curse.
Vaughn's strategy for fighting Voldemort was simple—force him out of his comfort zone and into a battle that the legendary wizard had rarely encountered since achieving his greatness!
For example, rapid mobile warfare!
The instant Voldemort's entire body twisted and turned into smoke, Vaughn also Apparated at the same time.
[Apparition Lv3 (2/24)]
As a highly dangerous spell, where even a slight lapse in concentration can cause one to split into multiple parts, few in the magical world are willing to spend a significant amount of time studying Apparition.
After all, there are more convenient Floo Powder and Door Keys!
Only Vaughn, who can increase the spell level by adding points, is willing to invest in such an "unpopular" spell and use it as a means of combat!
Level 3 in Spellcasting represents a fairly advanced and professional level, indicating that one is no longer limited to spells themselves and has begun to apply their knowledge to other areas.
The manifestation of this in phantom teleportation is a keen perception of space!
Once in the transition state, Vaughn was no longer as dizzy and disoriented as before. The space distorted by the curse was clearly reflected in his mind, allowing him to discern every flicker and anomaly.