Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 88 87. Clumsy Temptation and Harry's Fight Against Voldemort Again

But to be honest, there wouldn't be any problem even if Lily didn't say these good things about Snape in front of the children.

Ron now even felt that it was normal for Snape to hate Gryffindor every day. He even felt that Snape was a bit pitiful.

"Well, I'm not saying how good Snape is," Ron scratched his head and said slowly, "I just think that if someone has been bothering me during my seven years at Hogwarts, it's not Fred and George's little pranks... Anyway, I can't stand being hung up in a busy corridor for others to see my underwear."

"Think about it this way. If I really went through what happened to Snape, and someone took away my good friend who grew up with me...well, then I might hate Gryffindor even more than he does, right?" Ron said with a conflicted look on his face.

This time, even Neville didn't say anything, but nodded with a sad look on his face.

——However, Ron's hatred for Snape only lasted for one afternoon. That evening, Snape deducted ten points from him because he looked at Snape with sympathy.

Well, Ron was so angry that he barely fell asleep until almost three in the morning that night.

In short, the things that happened between the previous generation are already a thing of the past for the children of this generation. Knowing these past stories has not made much difference to the daily lives of Ron and his friends.

It just made them understand some things and let go of some things.

After all, their friend was called Harry Potter, not Harry Snape.

For Ron and the other two, the more important thing at the moment is the detention tomorrow night - Quirrell's detention.

Although they didn't know that Voldemort was possessing Quirrell, Ron and the others were already aware that Quirrell was a Death Eater.

Because the excitement and pride brought by Gryffindor's victory over Hufflepuff yesterday all turned into worry about Harry's safety today. Several people were afraid that Harry would fall into a trap if he entered Quirrell's office, and then be doomed to do unspeakable things by dark magic.

After all, in the eyes of many Death Eaters, it was because Harry killed their master eleven years ago that their careers were ruined and they were forced to hide.

Ron also suggested that Harry should find an excuse to get out of detention, such as pretending to break his leg - or actually breaking his leg.

Neville presented his amulet with a serious look on his face. It was said to be made by a wizard from some African tribe and was very effective.

As for Hermione...Hermione thought that everyone should go to Professor McGonagall to clarify things and have a fight with Quirrell.

"There's no need to worry so much." Looking at his friends who were racking their brains to get him back safely, Harry said helplessly, "Don't worry. If a fight really breaks out, I would rather tear down Hogwarts than let myself die at the hands of... Death Eaters."

With such a reliable oath, Hermione and the others finally felt relieved.

And things turned out pretty much as Harry had expected. He was not mistreated or targeted at all by Quirrell. When Harry knocked on the door and walked in, Quirrell's attitude was completely enthusiastic. He even took Harry to visit his office.

Not only that, when Harry sat down, Quirrell also made a cup of coffee for Harry - rounding it off, it was equivalent to Voldemort making a cup of coffee for Harry.

Well, although he had no intention of touching the cup of coffee, Harry couldn't help but chuckle after realizing this.

"…Is there anything funny, Harry?" After making himself a cup of coffee, Quirrell sat down across the table.

"Thinking of something." Harry cast his eyes on the wall on the left. There was a familiar painting hanging opposite the table. "I didn't expect you to hang it here."

"Ah, this painting?" Quirrell said, following Harry's gaze. "Is it called Saturn Devouring His Son?"

"You like it?" Harry asked.

"I have to admit that even Muggle painters can sometimes create works that make people...think," Quirrell said leisurely, "although they are just clumsy reflections on the history of wizards."

"Detailed records of Greek mythology by wizards?" Harry raised his eyebrows and asked, "I have looked up the history in this area, and most of the records are illogical... In fact, the history that wizards have clear records of mostly started thousands of years ago, and there is not much history left before that."

"Because wizards at that time were exhausted from surviving, Harry," Quirrell turned his head and said, "It was indeed a great thing that the four giants built Hogwarts. At least they gave wizards a clear heritage."

"No one will have magical powers but no way to use them, and can only watch Muggles hang themselves on trees. No young wizards will have to suppress their extraordinary qualities under swords and torches, and eventually become obscurus and end their lives early."

"Don't you think this is all ironic, Harry?" Quirrell asked softly, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. "You survived hard under the hunting of Muggles, and you couldn't even protect your own children. It wasn't until you learned to use magic to hide yourself that you finally found some peace."

"It is obvious that people who were forced to hide because of the oppression of Muggles have become Muggles who need our protection after so many years - isn't this ridiculous?"

"...are these your opinions, Professor?" Harry asked, not wavering at all at Quirrell's words.

Because according to the information he has collected so far, these arguments do not seem to be Voldemort's views. Instead, they are more like the views of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, who dominated the international wizarding world decades ago. As for Voldemort, his political views are mainly focused on the pure-blood side, based on the theory of bloodline.

Shaking his head, Quirrell did not answer. He just leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes - and when he opened his eyes again, the 'Professor Quirrell' in the classroom was back again.

"Ah, Harry... Potter..." Quirrell sighed deeply, just like a person who just woke up.

"Be more direct?" Harry tilted his head. "Voldemort?"

"Ha, ha ha ha," Quirrell laughed oddly, "What a genius, what a brave man, just like the couple who fell to me eleven years ago, your parents, Lily...James..."

As he spoke, Voldemort stood up. He now looked much calmer than the one Harry had seen in the underground corridor. He showed no intention of attacking. Voldemort just paced in the classroom.

"No matter how much you look down on them, my mother defeated you in the end and ended your rule eleven years ago," Harry stood up and turned around.

“That’s not because of your mother!” Clenching his fists, Voldemort turned around and shouted, “That’s because of the prophecy!! About me! And about you!!”

"Oh, by the way," Voldemort suddenly laughed, "Perhaps you don't know the existence of the prophecy yet? Dumbledore didn't tell you? Or did Snape not tell you?"

"Oh, Harry, I was so careless," Voldemort made a delighted sound, "How could I forget? My confidant and beloved general... Severus... Snape - it was he who came to me eleven years ago."

"Knelt at my feet, kissed my robe, told me the whole prophecy, tut, tut, tut."

"Then I should really thank him," Harry raised his eyebrows and said, "If it weren't for him, the wizards in the British wizarding world would probably have to suffer for another eleven years."

Clumsy provocation and clumsy smearing, Harry suddenly wondered if Voldemort thought of him as an ordinary eleven-year-old child? Or did he think he would believe the words of an enemy?

Voldemort simply stopped talking; Harry's counterattack was too powerful.

After all, the disastrous defeat eleven years ago was a hurdle that Voldemort himself felt he could not overcome.

Every time Voldemort thought about how he had to possess the bodies of mice and even many animals in the past eleven years to avoid those who were looking for him, his hatred for Dumbledore grew even stronger. He hid in the forests of Albania in such humiliation... just to survive... to survive...

As long as you live, there is still a chance for everything. Dumbledore is already very old, and he will die sooner or later.

“…I have no ill will towards you, Harry.” Voldemort took a deep breath and forced a smile. “You have extraordinary talent. When I see you, it’s as if I saw my past self. I’m afraid there isn’t even someone around you who can discuss the mysteries of magic with you on an equal footing, right?”

"Everyone looks up to you. They admire you, but they can never keep up with you or stand by your side." Voldemort's voice echoed throughout the office. "But I am different. I am also a genius. I can understand you."

"Under Dumbledore's influence, you have too many misunderstandings and prejudices about the Dark Arts," Voldemort said with regret, "Snape has been very caring towards you, but how well do you know Snape?"

"Did you know that he is also a master obsessed with the dark arts? He is deeply attracted by the mysteries of the dark arts and cannot extricate himself - but you also saw that Snape was hurt by the dark arts?"

"Excuse me, Voldemort, you may still be alive eleven years ago, or you may have died eleven years ago, and the fact that you are still alive now is just an echo of the past." Harry couldn't help but say as he couldn't bear to listen any longer.

To be honest, Harry originally thought that Voldemort had something more meaningful to say by finding an excuse to be alone with him, but he didn't expect that Voldemort's intention was to persuade him to come to his side.

——Isn’t this even funnier?

In Voldemort's eyes, the hatred for killing his father and mother seemed to be non-existent. It was nothing in front of the powerful and charming black magic. Harry was a little skeptical when he heard Dumbledore say that learning too much black magic would make one lose humanity.

But now he believes it.

What may be lost is not only humanity, but also reason.

Voldemort himself might not believe in parental love, but Harry never expected that Voldemort would think that others didn't care either. The examples he gave during the entire persuasion process were extremely ridiculous, especially Snape at the end.

If nothing else, Harry felt that Snape's love and loyalty to his mother were at least genuine.

When he heard the end, Harry even felt a little bored - was this the man who had cast a shadow over the heads of British wizards for eleven years, and who until now no one dared to call out his name directly?
Voldemort seemed to be completely unaware of the point of the matter. He lived in his own world and treated everything in the outside world according to his own imagination.

"Then let me ask you, if I surrender to you, what can you give me?" Harry said sarcastically, "and what do you need me to do?"

"You only need to do one thing for me, and that is to bring me the Philosopher's Stone from the room on the fourth floor!" Voldemort suddenly opened his eyes wide and said quickly: "And I will grant you the most powerful power, allowing you to understand the secrets of magic and even leap over death!"

"Like you are now?"

"Just like I am now."

Harry looked at Voldemort blankly, as if he was looking at an extremely stupid, even hopeless idiot.

"Do you really think you are still alive?" Harry was rarely speechless. "You are already dead, Voldemort. What you are now is just a fragment of your soul, a part of your past."

Even the stupidest warlocks would not cut their souls into pieces. Even the liches of the Scourge would not do that. They would keep their souls intact in the soul box and then put them in a safe enough place, and usually use magic to drive their body activities.

Harry once had the pleasure of hearing a joke that existed only among warlocks, which was that a warlock might corrupt his own soul, or let his soul degenerate in exchange for greater power, but he would never turn his soul into candy.

This world has done too little research on the soul, so much so that Voldemort was actually complacent about it after doing such an extremely stupid thing.

"What did you say?!" Voldemort was furious, but Harry hadn't finished speaking yet. There were some things he had been enduring for a long time.

"Even the things you used to tempt me were stupid to the extreme," Harry said speechlessly, "Have you ever defeated me so far? Didn't you always escape in disgrace? Why do you think your power can attract me?"

Even if it was Kil'jaeden who lured Ner'zhul into corruption, he disguised himself as the soul of Ner'zhul's deceased wife. Do you, Voldemort, still think that you can just rely on your mouth to get power?

"That's because my power has not yet recovered!" Voldemort roared angrily, "As long as I get the Philosopher's Stone, everything I have will be back! At that time, you will know how powerful the Dark Lord's true power is!!"

"Maybe," Harry sighed suddenly, "if you can survive tonight."

Voldemort was stunned.

What do you mean?
I haven't even threatened you yet, but you're threatening me first?
"I'm not going to let Dumbledore and you continue to play tricks, especially putting so many children in danger for a fallen soul who is already doomed to die." Harry raised his hand and said, "Anyway, he has already got the answer he wanted."

“——Avada Kedavra!!” Having a bad premonition in his heart, Voldemort raised his hand and cast the deadly killing curse without even a second of hesitation.

Bang! !

The green light instantly fell on the chair that Harry had placed in front of him with a wave of his wand, and instantly blew the poor chair into a pile of sawdust, shattering it into pieces.

"Bone-eroding and soul-stirring!"

“Blood and flesh separated!!”

"Avada Kedavra!!!"

Voldemort's spells followed one after another, each flashing an ominous purple or black light. Just from the spells, one could imagine how evil black magic they were. However, for Harry, the battle was over.

From the moment he raised his hand, Harry was chanting ancient spells in the Minotaur language, and at the same time used a Silencing and Wandless Spell to direct the chair to block the killing curse for him.

When Voldemort's other spells came, a translucent blue light curtain appeared in front of Harry, blocking all the rest for him.

A purple spell fell on the light curtain and turned into a pool of bubbling dark purple mucus. It fell to the ground along the edge of the light curtain and corroded a deep hole in the floor.

boom! !

At this moment, the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office was suddenly smashed into pieces by a spell, and a pile of broken wood flew into the room, followed closely by a loud shout -

"Harry! Are you in there?!"

The person who appeared from the doorway was Professor McGonagall, and behind her, through the narrow gap, Harry could see a few familiar figures flash by.

"Oh my God, what on earth is this--?!" Professor McGonagall gasped in shock as she rushed in. She could hardly believe her eyes.

In front of her, the entire Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office was filled with blue light, and her colleague Professor Quirrell was trapped in the middle by a blue light curtain. Every time he raised his hand, he would emit a beam of light that cast an evil spell.

But what shocked Professor McGonagall more than the fact that her colleague was casting dark magic spells was that she was shocked by the figures floating in the outer circle of the blue light curtain.

The dark blue translucent body continuously emitted blue smoke all around it. It was different from the ghosts with pearly white translucent bodies that were usually seen in the castle. Professor McGonagall clearly remembered that this abnormal soul would only appear because of the unique magic mastered by one of her students.

(End of this chapter)