A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 73 The Unforgivable Curse (Part 2)

While your last point makes sense, just say you want to send me to Azkaban... Oh, it seems the Dementors in Azkaban aren't much of a threat to me anymore.

"It's almost time for my detention, Professor," Owen reminded him, then adopted a well-behaved posture, as if he were listening attentively.

Voldemort glanced at the time and said calmly, "Half an hour is enough for you."

"You really think highly of me, Professor," Owen replied with a helpless tone.

Voldemort gave him a deep look, his expression unfathomable, and said, "You have no shortage of the magic to sustain the Unforgivable Curse. I will teach you the tricks to quickly master them. As for the matching emotions..."

He paused, his gaze growing even deeper: "Being able to summon the Dark Guardians should give you more confidence. You will never lack the corresponding malice. You'll even find that learning them is as easy for you as eating and drinking."

"Really? That's great," Owen said with a bright smile. It's like he's some kind of pervert like him... Well, if he continued to delve deeper into dark magic, he was afraid he'd become hopeless.

Although he was reluctant at first, Owen gradually became more serious as Voldemort, the master of dark magic, slowly explained his understanding of the Unforgivable Curse, and gained a better understanding of the three curses.

These three spells can affect both the body and soul simultaneously. It is precisely because of their soul-targeting properties that they cannot be defended against by spells like the Ironclad Curse. Faced with them, the only thing a wizard can do is to hide or take cover, or, ideally, eliminate the opponent before they can cast the spell.

It's worth noting that while they can attack other people's souls, they don't inflict truly irreparable damage. The soul is indeed a wondrous entity, perhaps holding within it the deepest secrets of magic.

"The soul is a mysterious and transcendent thing; it is more indestructible than the body," Voldemort said, referring to the realm of the soul. "Most spells in the realm of the soul, including the Unforgiven Curse, can target the soul, but they cannot harm its essence. In such cases, injuries to the soul heal even more easily than those to the body, like a distorted and broken reflection on the surface of water, which will always be restored when the storm subsides."

"Only a very few of the most profound and unfathomable spells can truly touch the foundation of the soul, alter its state, and cause real damage. At this point, the soul is even more difficult to restore than the body, and may even be irreversible," Voldemort said meaningfully, then casually glossed over the topic.

"Hornets, for example?" Owen thought to himself, a newfound interest in the realm of souls stirring within him. However, this field was still far too advanced for him at his current level. He kept the questions about souls in mind and continued to listen attentively to the lecture.

"First, the Crucifixion. It inflicts both physical and spiritual pain and harm, so no one can withstand its torment." Voldemort raised a finger, and a cage containing seven or eight gray rats flew over lightly and landed on the desk.

"The wounds of the soul can heal, but those of the body are much harder to heal. Those who suffer from the Cruciatus Curse for a long time will suffer irreversible damage to their brains and spirits, and the only outcome will be madness or death," he said softly, drawing his wand and stroking it slowly in his hand.

"I'll only demonstrate once." Voldemort pointed his wand at a rat in a cage, his tone suddenly turning cold and cruel. "The Cruciatus Curse!"

"Squeak—" The poor gray rat suddenly convulsed and screamed. Owen had never heard a creature scream so pitifully, and even he, who hated rats, instinctively felt sorry for it. The rat trembled and curled up into a ball, rolling and struggling frantically in the cage. Finally, it crushed its own skull, squeezed its head out of the gap in the cage, and died convulsing.

As this absurd and cruel scene unfolded before his eyes, Owen couldn't help but show a look of disgust, silently pushing the chair beneath him with his foot to distance himself further from Voldemort.

Voldemort admired his masterpiece with great interest, uttering leisurely, "The best emotion to drive this spell isn't mere malice, but rather a violent emotion, a desire to cause pain and torment, a sadistic urge. Everyone possesses this emotion to some degree. Examine your heart, find it, seize it, and then enjoy it..."

"I don't think this will be a problem for you." He glanced at Owen's clearly refusal face, then gestured for him to proceed. "Your turn next."

Owen looked at the rat's miserable state, sighed slightly, and resignedly drew his wand.

He began to review his own memories. Indeed, everyone has violent emotions within them, which sometimes rise up uncontrollably.

He thought of a magician who had relentlessly attacked him in his past life. The amazing magic tricks that Owen had painstakingly created and practiced for half a year were all dismissed by that guy as being made up of shills, and then he was frantically stirring up trouble to smear Owen... At that time, Owen really wanted to sneak into his house in the middle of the night and let him taste the bitterness of pain.

Recalling his emotions at the time, a faint surge of rage rose within Irving, but it was only a fleeting feeling. After all, many years had passed, and they were now separated by two different worlds.

At that moment, an unexpected situation occurred. A familiar, cold malice surged up from the depths of his heart, causing that faint trace of violent emotion to suddenly rise and erupt.

Irving was stunned for a moment, and in that instant of distraction, the violence dissipated like smoke.

"Heart-piercing, bone-scratching." Lacking emotional support, the incantation that came out of his mouth was weak and powerless. The mouse he pointed at squeaked and energetically darted to the other end of the cage.

He looked up at Voldemort and finally understood what the other meant when he said he "would never lack the corresponding malice." The remaining power of the Dark Guardian greatly amplified the negative emotions he felt when using dark magic, making it easier for him to cast spells... and also making him more susceptible to influence.

"You're more than that, Owen." Voldemort glanced at him lazily and said indifferently, "Focus. If you really can't grasp the key points, I don't mind letting you taste the Cruciatus Curse."

Irving took a deep breath, his inner rage reignited, and in a burst of intense emotion, he coldly uttered, "Crushing Bone!"

The cursed rat let out a pitiful scream and curled up in agony in its cage. Owen watched coldly, feeling a slight tremor in his wand. After a long while, he remembered to end the spell, by which time the poor rat was already half-dead.

The rage in his heart quickly subsided, but some of it remained, churning wildly in his mind.

Owen hissed softly, grinned at Voldemort, and waited for the rest of the lesson.

"Barely passable." Voldemort looked at him with amusement. "Then, next is the Imperius Curse. Its effect is to control a person's mind and soul. It is very difficult to detect, and there is no counter-curse. Only the caster can truly undo it."

"What if two wizards cast Imperius on the same person at the same time?" Owen tilted his head, his eyes full of curiosity.

"An interesting question." Voldemort narrowed his eyes in a good mood. "You can imagine what would happen if someone's hands were pulled in opposite directions. The two Imperius Curses would clash violently, plunging the cursed person into utter chaos. Prolonged exposure to this state would cause irreparable damage to the cursed person's mind and spirit."

Owen's eyes flickered, and he said cheerfully, "In that case, if I want to determine whether someone is under the influence of the Imperius Curse, I can just cast the Imperius Curse on them and see, right?"

"A brilliant idea, Owen," Voldemort exclaimed. "You're beginning to discover the allure of dark magic."

"The emotion required for the Imperius Curse is an intense desire to control and enslave others. Think about it, you can easily control everything about someone, you can command them to do anything, even kill them..." He pointed his wand at a rat in a cage and whispered, "Exit the body."

The mouse huddled silently in the corner of the cage, slowly and methodically biting off its own tail and claws, one bite at a time.

Owen watched this scene calmly, silently examining his own desire for control. Fueled by the remnants of the Dark Guard's power, this desire grew intense and morbid.

"The soul leaves the body." This spell went very smoothly, congratulations!

"Very well, the last one, the Killing Curse." Voldemort's expression held a hint of mockery. "Its effect is to instantly rob the body of all life force and forcibly rip the soul from the cursed person, putting them into a state of death. You know, the souls of the living and the dead are completely different."

"The Killing Curse cannot be defended against with spells; you can only avoid it or block it with a physical obstacle. However, it is extremely destructive to physical objects, and a highly skilled wizard can easily shatter the obstacle and instantly kill the enemy hiding behind it."

"This is also one of my favorite spells. Just a flash of light, and a life vanishes. Nothing can better demonstrate the simple, beautiful, and mysterious beauty of magic itself..." Voldemort's expression was one of rapture.

"Ah, it is indeed beautiful." Owen smiled, striking a chord deep within. "So, if the physical barrier blocking the Killing Curse is indestructible enough, can the Killing Curse be deflected elsewhere?"

Voldemort's expression suddenly turned somewhat ugly. Owen's question reminded him of the day he was humiliated by Harry Potter.

"Of course you can," he said coldly.

"I see." Owen narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Let's continue... All it takes to cast the Killing Curse is intense killing intent." Voldemort slightly raised his wand, pointing to the cage on the table. Owen instinctively shrank back, wanting to hide behind some obstacle.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort's voice was cold and high-pitched, filled with intense killing intent. A blinding green light shone in the small office, so bright that it was impossible to open one's eyes. A series of faint, chaotic sounds filled the air, as if an unseen behemoth had swept through the sky.

When the light faded, the cursed rat was motionless, dead without a sound.

Owen raised his wand expressionlessly, imagining the rat before him had Voldemort's face. His pent-up killing intent surged fiercely. He uttered coldly, "Avada Kedavra!"

Another flash of green light, and the rat was dead.

Owen took a deep breath, trying to calm the surging malice within him. Three lingering negative emotions were chaotically intertwined in his mind, leaving his thoughts in a state of confusion and excitement. Even the way he looked at Voldemort was off… well, he wanted to kill him.

"Excellent." Voldemort clapped his hands, completely unconcerned about the barely concealed malice in Owen's eyes, and said with a leisurely smile, "Remember to practice them until you're done before you come back next time. Now, you can leave."

Owen gave a polite, slight bow, then strode out of the office. The cool air in the corridor cleared his head somewhat; the lingering scent of potions dissipated, and a conflicting mix of cold and warmth seemed to swirl within him. He shook his head vigorously, trying to clear his mind, and quickly headed towards the restricted area.

After Owen closed the door and left, Voldemort waved his wand with a playful expression, and the cage containing the rats and the deep red potion in the cauldron on the table were swept away.

"Heh..." He chuckled softly, and the office fell silent.

……

Owen and Harry's detention tonight consisted of cleaning several classrooms on the third floor that Peeves had turned into a mess. No magic was allowed, and they had to be under Mr. Filch's constant supervision. While working, Owen just wanted to cast the Imperius Curse on Filch… oh, forgive me, wouldn't a Confusion Charm have been better?

Harry glanced at Owen every now and then, feeling that he seemed like a different person tonight, as if he might jump up at any moment and cast a curse on Filch. To avoid their detention being extended to a whole year, Harry had no choice but to diligently take on the chores, lest Owen lose his patience and lash out.

Although Owen had no idea what Harry was imagining, he didn't want to dampen Harry's enthusiasm since someone was being so diligent. So he contentedly whiled away the time, thinking about happy things, like Voldemort's face being covered in blisters, maybe even roasted red like a monkey's bottom.

Thinking about it this way, he felt much better instantly. On his way back to the common room, he finally managed to suppress the raging evil thoughts in his heart and regain his usual gentle and composed demeanor.

"So, Irving was just acting like I was there? He was just trying to slack off..."

Harry looked at Owen, who had returned to normal as soon as his confinement ended, with a deep, thoughtful gaze.

Thank you to reader "Scarf, bring it here" for the 500 Qidian coins. Thank you all for your monthly tickets and recommendations. This humble author is deeply grateful!

(End of this chapter)