Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 494 I want you, I want your body
"Didn't you also rise fully from the dead?" Tierra asked with a smile. Voldemort found Tierra's gaze familiar; it was a casual, teasing look, like that of a predator sizing up its prey.

Just like the way he had looked at Harry and his group earlier.

This time, however, the roles are reversed; the hunter is now on the other side, and the hunter has become the prey that has fallen into the trap.

"I know you must have many questions, such as why I was able to be resurrected, why I was able to transform into a demon, and why I am here in this form," Tiera said with a smile. She seemed to have no desire to attack, but rather, like a dutiful villain, she began to explain her plan in detail.

“At the end of my third year, I foresaw your resurrection,” Tierra said with a smile. “To be more precise, I foresaw not only your resurrection, but also my death.”

“Yes, don’t be surprised, I foresaw my death. I saw the moment you killed me with the Killing Curse,” Tierra continued. “After all, I am a prophet, aren’t I?”

“But I still killed you,” Voldemort said grimly. “You still killed me! Your prophecy was useless!”

“No, no, no,” Tyrell said, waving a finger. “I think you’ve got one thing wrong, Voldemort.”

“Prophecy is not meant to be broken. To be precise, prophecy, like history, is a fact that is bound to happen. If time is a long river, then prophecy is a protruding reef downstream,” Tiera said. “Whether you believe it or not, the reef is there. Of course, you can choose not to believe it, or you can think that your ship is stronger than the reef, but the final result of doing so is—”

"Boom—" Tiera made an explosion gesture with her hand, "You brought this upon yourselves."

"The most foolish thing to do when faced with a prophecy is like you," Tierra said with disdain, looking at Voldemort. "Resisting prophecies and trying to circumvent them is a poor strategy. Unless you have the ability to overturn the river of time and sever the threads of fate, it is all in vain."

“What is predicted will surely come to pass. Prophecies are absolute, but they are also relative,” Tiera said with a smile, pacing back and forth in the fairly spacious hall of the Ministry of Magic with her enormous body, like a kind-hearted teacher or an apprentice showing off his knowledge.

Although Voldemort remained vigilant, it was clear that his mind was completely absorbed by Tyrell's words.

Dumbledore, standing inside the protective shield, stroked his beard, looking on with suspicion and uncertainty.

Or perhaps he was thoughtfully observing Tiera.

Clearly, the wise old man didn't understand why Tyrell would tell Voldemort so many secrets. He couldn't figure out what Tyrell was up to, but his intuition, built up over the years, instinctively sensed that there was another earth-shattering conspiracy at play.

“The prophecies only reveal a partial truth. For example—” Tiera said with a smile, “take my death as an example—”

The claim that "I foresaw my own death and that Voldemort killed Tyella with the Killing Curse" is inaccurate.

“What I foresaw was a person resembling Voldemort rising from the pot, then killing someone resembling Tierra with the Killing Curse. This Tierra-like person could be anyone,” Tierra said with a smile. “For example, we could say that Barty Crouch Jr., in the name of Moody, spent about ten minutes alone with me before the final event of the Goblet of Fire began, according to the rules of the Goblet of Fire. During those ten minutes, he intended to control me with the Imperius Curse.” “But conversely, if I had been prepared, resisted his Imperius Curse, and countered him with the Imperius Curse, then used Polyjuice Potion to disguise him as Tierra and send him into the labyrinth, then—” Tierra paused, and continued, “then the prophecy would also come true, wouldn’t it?”

In that instant, Tyella saw Voldemort's eyes light up, as if the age-old problem that had troubled him for so long had finally found a solution.

"Of course, this is only a middle-ground strategy, slightly better than the previous rebellion against the prophecy and dealing with the person in the prophecy," Tiera continued. "As the saying goes, great danger hides great opportunity."

"To put it in a more fatalistic way, every exceptionally talented wizard will know, directly or indirectly, a prophecy about their own death," Tiera said. "Whether or not one can make good use of this prophecy, whether or not one can pierce the fog of death, is the difference between a genius mortal wizard and a god."

“I won’t go into the details of the process.” Tiera’s smile grew wider, gradually turning into a sinister grin, and a greedy mist began to well up in her eyes. “This is where I’m better than you. Based on the prophecy of death, I planned the ritual to become a god. With your killing curse, I opened the path to godhood.”

"At the end of my third year, I transformed myself into a demon, allowing me to face death in a form more solid than a soul and more powerful than a spirit." Tierra stared intently at Voldemort. "Before I died, I planned how to return myself to the world of the living."

“I left behind prophecies, and by fulfilling one prophecy at a time, I made all people my anchors, my guiding lights for my return to the present world.”

"I left clues about the Resurrection Stone so that Harry could awaken my consciousness."

"I also foresaw the formation of Dumbledore's Army, so I left Hermione a spell to restrain it and prevent traitors, and the result was exactly as I predicted—"

"Some members of Dumbledore's army could not withstand the external pressure and their own fragile hearts, and chose to betray."

"That wasn't a punitive curse at all; it was a demonic pact. The true meaning of that curse lies in—"

"By signing your name, you are voluntarily keeping the secret; if you are not willing to keep the secret, then you are voluntarily offering your body to the devil."

“That’s how I took over Marietta’s body.” The enormous Tierra stopped pacing back and forth, “but that’s not my ultimate goal.”

“To be precise, no matter who betrays me in Dumbledore’s army, they will not be my final physical body. They are just stepping stones, just doors that allow me to descend to earth in demon form—” Tyella said, looking at Voldemort. “Their talents are too low, their bodies are too immature, their magic is too weak. I need a powerful body, I need a wizard with abundant magic and superb talent to serve as my physical body.”

With that, Tyrell stretched out her hand to Voldemort—

"I need you, I need your body."

(End of this chapter)