A Certain Magical Hogwarts

Chapter 725 Prophecy Ball

The candle wick burned, making a crackling sound.

A ghostly light illuminated a small area, casting long shadows on the stone wall behind.

This is a long and narrow room.

The walls are made of rough stone, making it look like a prison cell or a niche designed by believers to house statues.

But there were neither prisoners nor statues in this room.

In the dim candlelight, only a pale face with lifeless, empty eye sockets was visible, facing the room.

A skull.

The skull sat on a rickety table leaning against the back wall. Two human leg bones were placed on either side, and there were some bottles and jars on the table.

Beside the table, against the wall, lay a ferocious-looking serpent with three heads staring intently at the figure on the wall.

The figures were so blurry they looked like ghosts.

The owner of the ghostly figure stood in front of the wall, eyes closed, seemingly asleep or deep in thought.

A servant knelt humbly on the ground, his wand pointed at his master's arm, which was gradually turning black, and softly chanted a complex incantation.

The potions on the table were poured onto his arm, but the black toxins only dimmed slightly.

The corrosive effects of the potion caused immense pain, and Voldemort opened his eyes.

He had no hair, like a snake, two thin nostrils, and a pair of bright red eyes with vertical pupils.

Voldemort lowered his head and looked at Snape, who was healing him.

Snape's gaze was fixed on the wall, where he could see a small patch of faded graffiti—ten capital letters scrawled in a mess.

VOLE DE MORT

"This is French," Voldemort said in a deep, hoarse voice. "I carved it fifty years ago; I never imagined it would still be here."

VOLE DE MORT is Voldemort, which is also his name.

"I used to call this room the 'Reflection Room,' where I would contemplate death."

Voldemort slowly ran his long, thin fingers along the wall, touching the French letters that meant "away from death."

"Through contemplating the inevitability of death, I gained a valuable understanding of the fleeting nature of life."

Snape's gaze shifted from the letters to the fresh skull on the table.

It sounds profound, but this room later became Voldemort's place to torture wizards.

—It resembles Grindelwald's Nurmengard Castle.

Just recently, Voldemort tortured and murdered a Death Eater here.

He never thought about his own death, but about the deaths of other people!

"How's the task I gave you, Severus?"

Staring at his arm, Voldemort could clearly feel the poison corroding his arm.

That pain tormented him day and night.

"Stark... he's cautious," Snape said softly. "He doesn't trust me much, just like that stupid dog Black."

"I thought his exceptional potion-making skills were mostly taught by you," Voldemort said sarcastically.

"Looks like it has nothing to do with you; he taught himself all of that?"

"Stark and I have never gotten along well," Snape said, his head bowed.

"Aside from the knowledge taught in class, I have never given him any potion tutoring after class."

Voldemort frowned and said, "Besides his mastery of magic, he's also a potions master."

It seems... William Stark has more secrets than I imagined.

"Master, if I may be so bold, why not resurrect them?" Snape sincerely suggested.

"Let's change bodies again. We're all by your side. This time it'll be easy."

Voldemort pursed his thin lips but did not answer.

This body contains Harry's blood and Lily's protective charm!

He went through so much trouble to bring Potter back to life... He couldn't bear to part with him!

Changing bodies is indeed easy now, but that magical power will be gone.

At the very least, he can no longer touch Harry's skin!

The memory of his death fourteen years ago was still vivid, and the fear of being hit by his own death curse still lingered in Voldemort's mind.

Even while suffering from the poison, he refused to change bodies before killing Harry.

"However... it's definitely time to make some contingency plans," Voldemort thought.

If Snape can't get the antidote, this body probably won't last two years and will die sooner or later.

Voldemort needs to find out exactly what happened back then.

What did that prophecy say—its full content!!

The candlelight flickered suddenly, a gust of air blew by, dimmed for a moment, and then immediately brightened again.

Lucius Malfoy pushed open the door and fearfully entered the cramped room.

He inhaled a pungent smell of magic potion, which grew stronger and stronger, penetrating his nostrils.

The room was very damp, and the humidity in the air aggravated the smell.

Malfoy knew Voldemort was injured, wounded by the Starks, but he didn't expect it to be this serious.

Malfoy didn't look up, showing no desire even to check the injuries; he kept his eyelids lowered and said respectfully:

"Master, the conference room has been prepared and is ready for use."

Before Voldemort's downfall, this place was one of the Death Eaters' strongholds. After his death, it was abandoned.

Unexpectedly, many years later, it once again became a haven for Death Eaters.

"No, we don't need a meeting room, we can talk right here."

After so many years of wandering, Voldemort no longer fully trusts anyone.

This period is extremely important, and he must be cautious about every step he takes.

Therefore, the Death Eaters' missions are all independent and confidential. Once a leak occurs, he can quickly find out who the... traitors are.

Voldemort looked at Snape: "Very well...you can go now. Call Avery here."

Snape packed up the potion, bowed, and quickly backed away through the door.

Inside the room, only Malfoy and Voldemort were present. Malfoy's body was tense, and he seemed terrified.

Crunch!

The door opened again, and Avery strode in, kneeling down right next to Malfoy.

"This is a top secret mission," Voldemort said softly.

"I need both of you to get me something."

"What is it, Master?" Avery smiled obsequiously. "Whatever you want, wherever it may be, we'll risk our lives to get it for you."

"And if I send you to Hogwarts?" Voldemort sneered. "Go and kill the Starks!"

Malfoy swallowed hard. Wasn't this just sending himself to his death?

Avery looked up in terror and said, "Master, if we enter Hogwarts, Dumbledore will probably find out."

Voldemort snorted.

Sooner or later, he will enter Hogwarts and kill Dumbledore and Stark with his own hands.

"No need to go to Hogwarts..." he said coldly.

Malfoy and Avery's bodies visibly went limp, but then stiffened.

The Dark Lord said coldly, "We need to go to the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic to retrieve something for me."

Malfoy and Avery exchanged an uneasy glance.

The Ministry of Magic isn't so easy to break into, let alone steal things from inside.

"What's wrong? Is something bothering you?" Voldemort's red eyes were fixed on the two of them, his gaze sharp.

"Of course, no problem, Master!" Avery said quickly and cleverly. "As long as you give the order, no problem will be a problem."

We were a step too late!

Malfoy inwardly regretted that he hadn't licked the Dark Lord for over a decade... his skills had become somewhat rusty.

"Do you have any plans?" Voldemort approached Avery.

"Perhaps we can control the Silent Ones of the Mysterious Affairs Department," Avery suggested.

He glanced at Malfoy and said sinisterly:

"Lucius and Minister Fudge have always had a good relationship. He can go and donate the building, and take the opportunity to use the Imperius Curse to control Broderick Bode of the Department of Mysteries."

Malfoy glared at Avery secretly.

Making him take risks is one thing, but making him donate a building is another?

What a despicable bastard!

Voldemort stepped on Avery's head, used his wand to lift Malfoy's chin, brought his face close to Malfoy's, and asked:

"Do you have a question?"

"I...I..."

Looking at that ugly face so close to his face, Malfoy's expression changed in an instant, and he fawned over it, saying:

"Of course, no problem. Even if the entire Malfoy family's wealth were donated, I would have no problem with it, Master."

but……"

"But what?"

"I need Avery's help. I'm afraid I can't complete the task by myself. I don't want to delay your important business."

Avery scoffed inwardly, giving Malfoy a cold look.

"Of course," Voldemort said lazily. "I'm giving you two months. I don't want to hear any news of failure."

He gave a cold smile.

"What losers suffer... you know."

Malfoy and Avery both shuddered.

"What do we need to steal, Master?" Malfoy couldn't help but ask after a moment.

"A...prophecy orb! About me and Harry Potter!"

……

……

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(End of this chapter)