"Complete? I don't want to become a lunatic!" Riddle sneered. "Time is the strongest spell. It has long made us strangers. Even though we come from the same origin, with the passage of time, we, imprisoned in objects, are long different from the moment of splitting."
"I don't wish to taste the flavor of confinement again. Even if it makes me stronger."
"After all, I am different from you. In the pursuit of immortality, possessing high magical power but losing the most important thing—wisdom."
Hearing this, Voldemort's ugly face squeezed out a smile. "That's wonderful. That means we have no conflict. You should have already avenged the grudge of me sealing you in the diary."
"Truly ugly, and foolish." The wand spinning at Riddle's fingertips stopped instantly, pointing in the direction of Voldemort's soul.
"I remember saying, I am long different from the initial me."
"This doesn't just refer to thought patterns."
"But also the characteristics of spells."
A green ghostly figure appeared behind Riddle, extending a finger.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Two beams of green light converged and sank into Voldemort's body.
Voldemort didn't block or dodge.
Because the winner was still Voldemort.
He had beaten Dumbledore, beaten him big time, beaten him numb!
Besides, this body only had three minutes left; what did it matter if it ended early?
Quirrell's body collapsed, and the fake Philosopher's Stone rolled out.
He turned into a cloud of black smoke and passed through the gate made of black flames.
Leaving behind only a sentence accompanied by maniacal laughter.
"I thought you could really kill me! Your Killing Curse is indeed stronger than seventeen-year-old me, but it still can't do anything to me, who bears the name Voldemort (Flight from Death)."
"Moreover, we still reached a consensus—there can only be one Voldemort!"
Riddle sneered coldly at his words, took a step, and vanished from the spot.
After recalling the [Shadows], Basil released the loop on Snape.
Snape lay on the fourth floor for a minute before struggling up and running toward the forbidden corridor.
Meanwhile, amidst dead branches, rotting leaves, and layers of spider webs, Dumbledore appeared in front of a spider the size of a small elephant.
Its body and legs were black mixed with gray, and every eye on its ugly head with large pincers was covered with a milky film.
It looked blind.
"Aragog." Dumbledore sighed.
He could already imagine Hagrid's reaction when he discovered this scene.
At this moment, merged with his Patronus and the Phoenix, he and Fawkes were of one mind and body.
The holy radiance that would turn the cursed vessel into flying ash was under his control.
He carefully brushed over every inch of Aragog's body.
On the other hand, Dumbledore's holy magical magnetic field enveloped and maintained it whole.
This wasn't because Dumbledore thought Hagrid's feelings were more important than Voldemort.
But while maintaining the integrity of Aragog's body, he carefully removed the curse to prevent any chain curses from appearing.
Ten minutes later, with a crisp sound like bamboo snapping, black smoke ceased to pour from Aragog's body.
The curse was completely lifted.
"Sigh, parting, always parting."
Dumbledore looked around, his eyes full of compassion.
Behind him was the head of Lucius Malfoy; in front was Aragog's corpse.
That not-so-bad Malfoy kid, and Hagrid... they would be devastated seeing these.
Golden-red flames ignited from him, the two corpses, and Fawkes.
Like an eraser, wiping them away.
The next second, two corpses appeared in the Headmaster's office.
In the room with the Mirror of Erised, Dumbledore and Fawkes emerged from the flames.
Running right into Snape, who had broken free from the loop and rushed here without stopping.
Their first reaction wasn't to look at each other.
But at the corpse on the ground and the "Philosopher's Stone."
Soaked to the bone, Snape licked his lower lip. "How exactly did he die? Judging by appearance, his neck is twisted 180 degrees. And there's no aura of Dark Magic."
Dumbledore waved his hand, and the stone flew into his palm.
"Killing Curse. People killed by the Killing Curse show no traces on either a magical or physical level. Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, should have had an aura of Dark Magic. This only proves he died from the Killing Curse. While being killed, the traces of negative magnetic fields on his body were also killed."
Dumbledore closed his eyes, his magical magnetic field expanding, spreading inch by inch with him as the center.
He was reading the traces, reconstructing everything that happened in the room within his mind.
The Mist Condenser was built on this principle.
But the images surfacing in his mind right now were blurry.
Like a TV with bad signal—blurry images, no sound.
But he still gleaned a lot from it.
"This twisted neck should be for Voldemort's convenience in using Quirrell's dead body."
"Someone took the Philosopher's Stone beforehand."
"Killed Quirrell."
"Drove away Voldemort."
"The good news is, Voldemort didn't get the Philosopher's Stone."
"The bad news is, the Philosopher's Stone, which should have been destroyed, has fallen into the hands of a dangerous wizard."
"His Killing Curse is very fast and extremely powerful. It could 'clean' a body like Quirrell's, which relied on garlic baths to mask the aura of Dark Magic."
Although he said the wizard was dangerous, Dumbledore didn't look very grave.
On the contrary, he even had time to tease Snape.
"What happened to you? Did someone dump a bowl of oily soup on you?"
Snape's sallow, greasy face stiffened. "Shut up! Dumbledore! Because of whom do you think this is?"
Dumbledore scratched the tip of his nose and smiled mischievously.
"Since it's all because of me, you're welcome."
A wisp of flame ignited on Snape, and with a whoosh faster than he could react, it burned over his whole body.
Then extinguished.
A fresh, oil-free Snape with flowing hair and exfoliated skin, no longer sallow, was born.
Because the curse vanished and the swarming spiders turned to ash, Basil, who had returned to the Great Hall with the main group, was shocked.
This pretty boy is Snape?
He looks like this after getting rid of the grease and sallow skin?
Except for the hooked nose lowering his looks somewhat, with his straight, shiny hime-cut hair, pale skin, and deep eyes, he looked like a dark noble.
Like a vampire aristocrat from a fantasy novel walking into reality.
No wonder, according to Hagrid, Lily maintained a close relationship with Snape until fifth year and only agreed to date James Potter in seventh year.
Not just childhood sweethearts, but also because of the face?
Dumbledore obviously shared Basil's thought.
With a wave of his hand, water vapor in the air condensed into a mirror.
He sighed, "Look at yourself. Look at what your terrible living habits have done to you."
Looking in the mirror, Snape wrinkled his nose. "I don't feel any different."
He touched his dry, black hair. "Should I apply some oil? It's a bit too frizzy."
Dumbledore questioned his life choices. "You don't wash your hair not because the Potters invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion? But because you like applying oil after washing?"
"Of course," Snape instantly despised Dumbledore's intelligence. "Mere shampoo, I can brew it myself. I just think this is more charming. In Muggle terms, British water is hard and causes baldness; my father was like that. So I avoided washing my hair since childhood. Once I had a job and money wasn't an issue, I used my own concoction—shampoo that makes hair sleek and prevents baldness."
"Look at my results. Obviously, I am correct."