A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 561 The Price of Dialogue

"Purify me?" Voldemort was stunned at first, then he laughed angrily.

His eyes flashed with furious red light, and he tried to stand up, but his healthy legs seemed to be under a curse and were uncontrollably tangled together.

"You bunch of fools...ah!" Before he could finish his words, he rolled down from the audience seats like a circus clown.

boom!boom!boom……

Voldemort's head and jaw hit the cold, hard stone steps one after another, making a dull sound that made one's teeth ache. Blood flowed down his cheeks, leaving dark red marks on the ground.

Finally, he fell heavily to the ground, supported himself with his hands, raised his head stubbornly, with unyielding anger burning in his eyes.

The wizards around were frightened and retreated, preparing to flee. But when they heard and saw that the once dreaded Dark Lord was in such a miserable state, they couldn't help laughing.

"Pfft..." Someone laughed out loud and hurriedly covered his mouth with his hands, fearing that he would anger Voldemort.

Roger looked at the other's legs that had lost control, thinking, and whispered softly: "Voldemort, are you injured?"

Hearing this, Voldemort's eyes turned red, like a wounded beast. He struggled to climb up the chair, gritting his teeth and saying, "Are you sympathizing with me? Or do you think that the great Lord Voldemort needs your pitiful sympathy?"

He glared at Roger fiercely, and then turned his gaze to Dumbledore. In Voldemort's mind, no one in the entire wizarding world except Dumbledore could cast such a severe curse on him.

However, when he met Dumbledore's calm blue eyes, he saw an unexpected hint of... pity?

"No, this is impossible!" Voldemort blinked in disbelief, trying to correct his illusion.

When he looked into those blue eyes again, he could neither see the joy or satisfaction he had expected, nor the pity he had thought. Instead, there was a barely perceptible solemnity.

Regardless of his stance and danger, Tom Riddle is undoubtedly one of the best wizards in the history of Hogwarts.

His talent in magic is amazing. Whether it is white magic, black magic, or those nearly lost ancient magics, Tom can always master their essence at an astonishing speed.

Even without a professor's guidance, he could teach himself from textbooks alone. Sometimes, he could understand the magical secrets contained in just a few words.

This talent allowed him to master the terrifying art of cutting souls before graduation and create his first Horcrux. From then on, he was unstoppable and no one knew how many Horcruxes he had created.

Dumbledore was acutely aware that Lee Jordan's body was intact and his legs were not injured, but the "puppet master" who controlled him, Voldemort himself, seemed to have lost the ability to walk.

"Is there something wrong with your soul?"

"Hmph, don't be so hypocritical." The chair Voldemort sat on was the Wizengamot's trial chair. He looked lonely and miserable, yet exuded a frightening sense of contradiction.

"Who else can hurt me from the soul level except you?" Voldemort gnashed his teeth, his voice full of resentment: "Didn't you hide all those books in the principal's office?"

Dumbledore heard this, pondered for a moment, then turned to look at Roger.

"Headmaster, I have no interest in souls." Roger shrugged, "Perhaps he made too many Horcruxes, which led to this accident. Well, it will be easier to deal with the disabled Dark Lord this way."

"Is there a way to get him out of Lee Jordan's body? Or..." He shook his wand, and a dangerous light was gathering at the tip of the wand.

Everyone in the Wizengamot held their breath and turned their eyes to Dumbledore. Pure-blood wizards, ordinary staff, and even Bellingrum all hoped that Dumbledore would make a strong decision: execute the puppet controlled by Voldemort and expel this evil being.

At this moment, Dumbledore seemed to have become the chief wizard of the Wizengamot again, holding the power to decide the fate of every wizard.

His eyes swept across everyone present, finally stopping on a familiar face.

"Lucius, do you remember the trial that took place here more than a decade ago?" Dumbledore looked at the pure-bloods behind Roger, his voice gentle but meaningful, "Many of you once followed Voldemort..."

"But we were controlled by the... the Dark Lord with the Imperius Curse. It's not our fault!" Before he could finish his words, a panicked voice interrupted him.

"You bunch of damn traitors!" Li Jordan roared angrily, hissing viciously from his mouth.

His red eyes swept over Lucius and the others one by one, as if he wanted to imprint the faces of these traitors in his heart. Every person who had followed him and now betrayed him trembled involuntarily under his gaze.

Then, with a cruel smile on his face, he turned to Dumbledore and Amelia and said, "I have never used the Mind Spell to make anyone pledge their allegiance to me."

"Who am I?" His voice was low and intimidating, and the entire Wizengamot fell into deathly silence because of this sentence.

"I am Voldemort! I am the wizard who makes the entire magical world tremble. I am the one who will rule the entire world. Do I still need to use spells to control my servants?"

"Dumbledore, you are so gullible." He smiled contemptuously and began to read out the names of these betrayers: "Lucius, Rookwood, Carlo..."

"You are good, really good!" His voice was full of sarcasm and threat.

"Amelia, your brothers actually died at their hands. These innocent people, betrayers, and your supporters murdered them."

Amelia's face turned pale instantly when she heard this. Her eyes involuntarily swept over Lucius and others, her heart full of contradictions and pain.

Voldemort looked around with a playful look, and then said: "Now, I will give you a chance."

He opened his arms and embraced the traitors in a broad, generous gesture: "Kneel down and kiss my feet, and I will forgive your folly and accept your allegiance again."

"The slaves who follow me will become nobles of the new world. Those who betray me..." He cracked his mouth, revealing a cold and hideous smile: "I will raise the Dark Mark in your home."

"Dark Mark!"

These four words were like a heavy hammer, hitting Lucius and the others hard in the heart. They felt cold all over, their hands and feet were trembling, and their faces turned pale as paper in an instant.

As former Death Eaters, they knew better than anyone what the mark meant - the whole family would be brutally tortured and killed by Voldemort. Everything they did to the Burns family would be repeated on them.

Fear surged into their hearts like a tide, threatening to drown them.

At the same time, a feeling of grief and anger spread throughout Amelia's body. Her nails pierced into her palms, and bright red blood dripped onto the floor, breaking into countless tiny red dots.

Voldemort, who put down his wand, became even more terrifying. With just a few words, he tore apart the three forces of the Wizengamot. The infamous Dark Lord personally testified and ruthlessly exposed the lies of Lucius and others more than a decade ago: they had never been controlled by the Imperius Curse, and all the crimes were committed voluntarily.

As the chief wizard at the time, Dumbledore easily let these people go without further investigation, allowing the murderer who killed Amelia's brother to escape the punishment he deserved.

There is no doubt that this is a very serious scandal and malfeasance. In comparison, Batistuta's substitution to save his son seems less serious.

Voldemort looked around, a smug smile on his face. He knew that he had successfully sowed the seeds of distrust and fear in this room.

However, the person Amelia hated the most was still him. She was not blinded by hatred and lies, she knew clearly that the root cause of all this was Voldemort.

What followed was her disappointment and doubt about Albus Dumbledore.

She didn't believe that Dumbledore, as the greatest white wizard of this century, could not see through the evidence-free sophistry of Lucius and others.

Although she understood intellectually that this was all Voldemort's trick, deep down she could no longer trust Lucius and the others.

This also means that under her leadership, the Ministry of Magic cannot reach closer cooperation with Lucius and others.

Voldemort's words planted a thorn in their hearts, preventing them from uniting closely.

Voldemort could imagine what the pure-blood wizards who had lost their power and status would do with his heels (he no longer had any heels). A wizarding world in internal chaos and division was exactly what he expected.

So, he showed a generous and magnanimous smile, and sat on the judgment chair calmly and happily, with his arms open, like a savior waiting for believers to worship him, waiting for the traitors to kneel down at his feet one by one.

In his imagination, these traitors would be terrified and rush to kowtow to him for mercy. They would kiss the uppers of his shoes happily like dogs, hold his feet respectfully, and beg for his forgiveness and acceptance.

Voldemort's eyes flashed with cruelty. He had already imagined the following scene in his mind: these traitors would be re-implanted with the Dark Mark by him and become his loyal servants. And in the end...

"Hehe." The smile on Voldemort's face was morbid. "In the end, they were abandoned here and executed by the Ministry of Magic!"

“Hahaha!” He laughed wildly in his heart, feeling proud of his perfect plan. “I’ll make you despair, and then give you hope. When you think you have hope, I’ll cruelly destroy it. Only death can make me forgive your betrayal.”

He straightened his back and raised his head, with endless joy in his heart, "Come on, come on..." he was waiting and calling out.

Time passed by second by second, 1 minute, 2 minutes... 5 minutes.

Voldemort did not wait for the traitors' pleas, but only received silence.

He lowered his arms and glared at Lucius and the others, his voice full of disbelief and anger: "Why?"

"Because you are not a pure blood, you are a coward." Roger sneered, "You keep saying that you didn't use the Imperius Curse on them."

"But you used killing, brutality, and terror to oppress everyone and make them do your bidding. This may not be the Imperius Curse, but it is more unforgivable than the Imperius Curse."

He turned to look at Dumbledore, and the headmaster's blue eyes gave Roger a smile, motioning him to continue.

Roger took a deep breath and his voice became louder: "Lucius and the others' excuses were lame to begin with. Anyone who is not a troll can tell that they are lying."

"But, are they really lying?"

"Even if you put on the lie of pure blood, how many wizards will truly follow you when they see your true colors? Bella, Barty Jr., Buck... who else? Regulus of the Black family?"

The last Death Eater's name was like a loud slap in the face, slapping Voldemort's left cheek.

Lucius also came out at this time, his voice trembling but full of determination: "Voldemort, we were once deceived by your lies and tempted by the power and status you promised.

But now, we see the truth. You are not protecting the purebloods, you are just using us to satisfy your own ambitions."

"We're not going to go back to that dark path, we want to be the good guys."

The other pure-blood wizards also expressed their opinions. Although there was still fear in their voices, they were firm and resolute.

"Good people!" Voldemort screamed. "Are you good people?"

"If they are not, then you are?" Roger said sarcastically, "Look at the followers you recruited, a bunch of ugly, dirty and stupid monsters. Dementors, giants, vampires, werewolves... they are all the dregs of the magic society."

"In fact, you have never dared to face Dumbledore. Even now, like a coward, you come to see him through this doll." Roger made full use of the venomous tongue he learned from Snape and slapped him hard on the right face. "Reach out and feel your crotch to see if you have any balls. If you have the guts, tell us where you are."

After saying this, he gently patted the Phoenix, preparing for spatial movement.

In an instant, the wizards of the Wizengamot suddenly realized that Voldemort had never confronted Dumbledore head-on. He might really be afraid of the old wizard, unless... Everyone was waiting for his answer.

Faced with such vicious sarcasm, Voldemort himself wished he could use the Cruciatus Curse to torture Rogue a hundred or ten thousand times!

His blood was boiling, and he almost blurted out his hiding place. However, he finally held back, suppressing the madness of his soul at the last moment.

“Rogge, we will meet. I will let you know what true cruelty is.” Voldemort stared at him, pointed at the dome, and said in a crazy and proud tone: “Right now…”

"Not good." Dumbledore's face changed, and he quickly raised his wand, trying to cast a spell to expel Voldemort from Lee Jordan's body.

However, everything happened so fast that he was still a step late.

Li Qiaodan exploded like a C4 explosive cap, red and white splashing out like a basket of rotten tomatoes being run over by a car.

Rogge used numerous obstacles to set up a barrier in front of him, and stared at the blood and flesh flying all over the ground for a long time without saying a word.

"When Dumbledore's enemies are hopeless, when Dumbledore's pawns are deadly." He knew very well that such a tragedy happened because Dumbledore wanted to get more information from Voldemort.

What is the price of such a heartwarming conversation? A life.

Roger didn't have time to think about it, because there was a loud collapse sound from the upper floor of the Ministry of Magic. Cracks began to appear in the ceiling, and rubble and dust fell down.

(End of this chapter)