Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 698
"Besides, we're almost done with our work. Professor Horace Slughorn's Philosopher's Stone is almost finished. There's only a little bit of finishing work left, and we don't need so many Tiera anymore. He's fully confident he can complete it himself."

"But Voldemort is a bit restless now. I have intelligence that he seems to be preparing to run for president of the International Magical Association this year, and based on his various behaviors, I have reason to believe that he is also preparing for his ascension ceremony."

“Who wouldn’t want that? Eternal life, near-infinite power—the most perfect form of immortality. Who wouldn’t want that? Especially a wizard like him who is terrified of death.”

“I have to stop him. You just need to focus on your studies, train hard, and enjoy your campus life. These things are my business.”

In a vast, dark underground cave in Europe, the pale, emaciated Voldemort sat on his golden throne, quietly listening to the words that came from Harry's mind.

Its long, slender pupils, resembling snake eyes, gleamed with a terrifying red light in the darkness, like a statue of an evil god sealed in an ancient tomb—dangerous, mysterious, yet possessing a strange allure that drew people in.

Suddenly, Voldemort's long, slender snake eyes narrowed slightly, and the corners of his mouth curled up, revealing a disdainful expression.

……

"Comrades, how can we tolerate such an insult?"

In a small town nestled south of the Harz Mountains in Lower Saxony, Germany, a fair-skinned, handsome young man with a head of thick, curly black hair stands on a boulder resembling a small hill, roaring with all his might.

A slight blush appeared on her pale face due to excessive exertion and lack of oxygen.

It added a unique charm to his handsome appearance.

On the open ground next to the boulder, a large number of men, women, and children dressed in strange attire stood densely packed together. Most of them wore loose robes in black or dark green, and their faces were mostly covered by wide cloaks.

The few individuals who did not conceal their faces wore thick, heavy, and antique-looking clothes, resembling the formal attire of nobles from over a hundred years ago.

"Comrades, how can we accept such a future?"

"Comrades, how can we allow our children, our descendants, to be born in such a world? A world where there is no place for wizards to live?"

The handsome young man on the stage continued to roar with all his might, his anger and resentment conveyed to every wizard in the audience through his impassioned speech.

"Look at our world!" This young man, Tom Riddle, who had suddenly appeared a few months ago, vying for the position of president of the International Magical Federation, waved his arms vigorously, pointing around the open space and at the witch statues scattered everywhere—

Those were witch statues cast in plaster, marble, brass, or other metals, and these witch statues were everywhere in this small town called Batsaksa.

They were cast into all sorts of shapes.

Some witch statues sit with their legs crossed on public benches, as if waiting for a bus; some witches are placed in ponds, with a giant carp statue opposite them spouting a fountain that hits them directly, as if the witch is playing with the carp; others are placed at the entrance of houses, leaning against mailboxes; still others are placed in gardens; and some witches...
This town is filled with all sorts of witches, which seems to be its defining characteristic. As the site of the most famous witch trials between the late 15th and 17th centuries, the town turned to witch statues as a local feature at the end of the 20th century, attracting a steady stream of tourists.

This kind of thing is very interesting to Muggles, but to those who know this history, these witch statues that can be seen everywhere seem incredibly terrifying and absurd.

"Look at these statues, look at this, this is our future," Tom Riddle laughed arrogantly and mockingly.

“Under that guy at Hogwarts, we will only perish!” Tom Riddle laughed. “He, and that foolish Muggle guardian Dumbledore, have the same goal: to exterminate us, to turn us into statues, to make us disappear from the world like those statues, becoming nothing more than frightening bedtime stories for Muggles.” “Are you willing to accept this? My good brothers and sisters, my comrades, are you willing to accept such a future?”

"No! We don't want to!"

Standing in the open space, the densely packed male and female witches shouted with great enthusiasm.

“Then choose me, my fellow countrymen.” Tom Riddle smiled faintly. “I will lead you to a brand new future, a future full of life and vitality.”

Hogwarts, Potions classroom.

"Alright, students, that's all for today's lesson," Horace Slughorn said, beaming. He then hurriedly packed up his teaching materials, as if he had something urgent to attend to and wanted to leave the classroom as soon as possible.

The magic stone will be ready in the next few days.

Horace Slughorn tidied up while excitedly pondering the situation.

All the materials have been placed inside the magic circle.

These materials will operate within the magic circle according to a predetermined program.

The rest is up to time and probability.

Under the program's operation, these materials function and react as a chaotic dynamic system.

When the reaction reaches a critical point, these materials will polymerize.

The three dimensions of matter, spirituality, and mind will be perfectly integrated.

A new magic stone will be created.

almost
It will be soon.
It will be in the next few days.
Horace Slughorn thought excitedly.

Completely unaware, the handsome, youthful little boy sitting in the middle of the classroom was staring intently into his eyes.

This boy, Brendan Carson, is a second-year student selected from Germany this year.

He is also the boy Horace Slughorn considers the most talented in this class.

But Horace Slughorn didn't know that everything he was thinking was also appearing in the little boy's mind.

Happy April Fool's Day, comrades!
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(End of this chapter)