HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

He can "observe" and even vaguely "hear" some conversations, but others cannot see his presence or hear his voice.

Chapter 498 Revisiting an Old haunt

Sagles did not lie to him.

He certainly couldn't do anything bad here, because he couldn't do anything at all.

Joy turned into cold anger.

Voldemort's mirror image rampaged through the Ministry of Magic for a while before finally having to acknowledge its predicament.

He calmed down and began to examine the cage carefully.

He "wandered" out of the Ministry of Magic and moved along the streets of London, which were constructed of magic networks.

The speed was very fast, almost as if the body could reach the destination instantly with a thought.

But this did not bring him pleasure, because it was all an illusion, without any real feeling, smell, or sensation, only sight and limited hearing.

After an unknown amount of time, he arrived at Hogwarts, driven by an instinct or perhaps a stubborn obsession.

The castle's silhouette stood majestically in the night, with warm light shining from its windows.

This place is more "lively" than when he left... no, more so than at any time in his memory.

He saw many Linkers' mirror images moving around inside and outside the castle, mostly students, with a few professors as well.

They either walked towards the castle in small groups, practiced spells in the courtyard, or hurried to some other place.

Voldemort also saw a familiar figure—Severus Snape.

The mirror image looked somber and indifferent, hurrying through the hallway toward the cellar.

Voldemort followed and hovered around Snape's mirror image.

He tried to discern something from that familiar face—emotion? A wavering of loyalty?

But a mirror image is still a mirror image. Although it can make some movements that are in line with Snape's habits, it always looks somewhat unnatural.

After following for a while, Voldemort found it incredibly boring.

This man, whom he once regarded as an important pawn, but who ultimately betrayed him, was nothing more than a phantom projection in the magic network.

Next, he went to the Slytherin common room.

The eerie green light, the flickering fire in the hearth, the carved chairs and silver decorations... were almost identical to what he remembered, yet they seemed to lack the damp atmosphere of the real world.

He walked past the mirrors of the Slytherin students who were talking or studying, unnoticed.

But in a daze, he seemed to see his younger self, Tom Riddle, not sitting in the most conspicuous position, but in a slightly darker corner by the fireplace where he could have a panoramic view.

He doesn't make a lot of noise, but he always manages to insert himself into key conversations at the right time, using precise compliments or seemingly unintentional insights to steer the conversation in the direction he needs.

Several pure-blood classmates surrounded him, not because of his illustrious family background, but because they were impressed by his magical talent and calm mind, which far surpassed those of his peers.

He remembered how he skillfully used their pride in their lineage and their desire for power to begin building his own network of connections.

Those admiring or fearful glances once gave him immense satisfaction.

However, at this moment, looking at these illusory images, he only felt an inexplicable emptiness.

Next, he arrived at the door of the dormitory where he used to live.

The door was closed, but he tried turning it and it opened.

The interior was much simpler; it seemed that MagicNet wouldn't meticulously recreate every detail of the student dormitory's interior.

He looked at the empty four-poster bed and desk, and it was as if he could see that handsome, black-haired boy sitting there, his ambition growing in the darkness.

Here, by the flickering candlelight, he studied dangerous books "borrowed" from the forbidden book section, sketched future plans on parchment, and touched the badges representing power, his heart filled with contempt for mediocrity and a desire to control everything.

"Long time no see," he murmured to the empty bed, his tone complex and difficult to decipher.

He left the cellar and began to wander aimlessly through the castle.

He arrived at the trophy display room.

Moonlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the gleaming trophies and medals.

His gaze almost instantly locked onto one of the glass cases—Tom Riddell, Special Contribution Award.

It felt like time had turned back several decades.

The secret room was "opened," a student was killed, and panic filled the castle.

With just the right amount of anxiety, he recounted his "accidental discovery" to the then-headmaster, Armando Dippert, subtly shifting suspicion toward the half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and his "dangerous" pet.

He remembers how perfectly he played the role of an upright, brave, and exemplary student who was concerned about the safety of the school.

Principal Dippert and the teachers looked at him with admiration, and whispers of awe rose from the other students in the hallways… He had successfully turned a horrific event he had orchestrated into a tool for gaining fame.

This trophy is a testament to his "glory".

But a complex feeling also welled up inside me: was it pride? Mockery? Or nostalgia for that time?

He couldn't tell, and just stood there gazing for a long time.

Finally, as if drawn by some force, he "floated" to the eighth floor and arrived at the entrance to the principal's office guarded by the pair of ugly stone beasts.

A password is required.

Voldemort's image paused for a moment.

He tried several sweet candy or drink names that Dumbledore might use, such as "Lemon Sherbet" and "Cockroach Heap".

The stone beast did not react.

He pondered for a moment, and a word with a mocking tone came to mind.

That was the password he used when he first came to apply for a job after graduation:

"loyalty."

Unexpectedly, the stone beast jumped to both sides, revealing a spiral staircase.

Voldemort paused for a moment, then a complex emotion welled up within him.

Is it because this password was set by Principal Armando?

Or was the magic network using his subconscious ideas when constructing the castle mirror image?

Without thinking it over, he climbed the spiral staircase.

The principal's office door was open.

Inside, it was quiet; the fire burned peacefully in the fireplace, and the portraits of past principals on the wall lay dormant.

The room's furnishings were strikingly similar to those he had when he first came here seeking employment.

There weren't as many silverwares whirring around, nor as many odd little gadgets piled up.

Books, instruments, a heavy desk, an old armchair—everything was closer to the night he remembered.

He seemed to see again the thin Armando Dippert, who was looking at him with those old, deep eyes, calmly and firmly refusing his request to teach him Defense Against the Dark Arts.

That damned old man is just as despicable as Dumbledore, because although he is not as powerful as Dumbledore, he still chose to refuse his request.

He was so admired by the other person when he was in school...

The shock of being rejected, the panic of being seen through, and the humiliation of being looked down upon, across decades and the distance of life and death, resurfaced vividly in his mind once again.

Voldemort stood in the center of his office, surveying the room that had once been the starting point of his ambitions.

He knew he could do nothing here, not even lift a piece of parchment, which made his resentment all the more bitter and piercing.

It turns out that Sagrais's decision to connect him to the magic network and allow him to roam here was not out of kindness.

"Is this your punishment for me, Greengrass? To leave me like a pathetic ghost, wandering in my own grave?!"

Chapter 499 Sagrais – A Treacherous Man

Filled with resentment, Voldemort left the headmaster's office.

He wandered aimlessly through the castle, and before he knew it, he "drifted" to the opposite side of the tapestry on the eighth floor depicting the giant monster beating up Barnabas.

That silly tapestry hangs there as always.

He stopped and faced the bare wall.

A house that grants every request.

That magical wonder, open only to those who truly need it, capable of conjuring up the room the person seeking help requires.

During his student days, this was an interesting discovery, a perfect place to practice certain magic that was not suitable for public display, or to temporarily hide something.

Voldemort focused his mind, facing the section of wall, and began to silently recite the "door-opening method" he had summarized during his student days:

"I need a place to hide things... a room that's absolutely safe and no one can find it..."

He was completely absorbed, walking back and forth three times, imagining the scene that the smooth door would appear.

The walls remained unchanged.

He frowned, perhaps the silent recitation wasn't enough?

He tried to "speak" the sentence aloud, directly "expressing" it to the wall:

"I need a room to hide things. A room where important items can be perfectly concealed."

The wall remained silent, with that silly tapestry hanging there.

Voldemort was not giving up.

He changed his wording several times, from "I need a room to practice dark magic without being discovered" to "I need a secret place to research soul magic," and even tried the more vague "I need help"...

Just like when he was figuring out the patterns in this room back then, he paced back and forth, concentrating all his thoughts.

However, nothing happened.

That wall remained just a wall, bare and without any sign of a magic door appearing.