Hogwarts: Voldemort, don't stop me from studying

Chapter 957 A Hopeless Pursuit

The wheelchair made a regular "creaking" sound as it rolled over the smooth marble floor.

Sir William Stonefield's thin fingers rested on the armrest, like the claws of a coiled eagle, with bluish-black veins bulging and meandering beneath his pale skin, resembling bulging tree roots.

He was very old, but he still possessed a chilling aura of intimidation, like a natural predator.

"See that, Chris? This is a bunch of fools blinded by greed!"

William said in a hoarse voice, as if his voice was being squeezed out of a broken bellows.

The young man behind him was blond and blue-eyed, looked to be under thirty, and was so handsome that he seemed to have stepped out of a movie.

The young man's gaze slowly swept over the figures slumped haphazardly in their chairs, watching the bodyguards silently and efficiently drag people out of the room. Expensive bracelets, necklaces, and cufflinks lay scattered on the thick, soft carpet, unnoticed and unpicked up by anyone.

William chuckled smugly, then let out a few suppressed coughs, his chest heaving violently.

Chris immediately handed him a silk handkerchief, which William took and covered his mouth with, his shoulders trembling for a moment. When he removed it again, the handkerchief was stained with dark red stains.

He casually tossed the handkerchief on the ground and continued:

“My poor allies, actually believe… believe that we can extract the soul of a living person from their body and then perfectly stuff it into the shell of these artificial beings? Hahaha…”

He laughed. The laughter was dry and short, with a heavy phlegm-like sound, yet it had a strange penetrating power.

"If it were me... even if I were so old I was about to fall apart, struggling to breathe, and on the verge of death... I would never believe such nonsense!"

"I will never hand over my soul, my consciousness, everything about me as 'William Stonefield'... to someone else! To let others decide what I will become!"

His voice suddenly rose, filled with anger and disdain as he said:
"What's the difference between that and suicide? No, it's even more foolish! Handing your soul over to someone else means that the last trace of your existence could be altered, erased, or replaced to whatever someone else wants!"

He began to breathe heavily, and Chris quickly patted his back while whispering:

“I know, Grandfather, I know what you’re going to say—in the future, whether I grow old or become seriously ill, I will never place my hopes on these futile experiments. I will always remember—the interests of the Stonefield family come first!”

“Good child, I’m not worried about you… I know you’re just like me, and you’ll make the right choice.”

William spoke haltingly, waving his hand to indicate that he was alright.

Although his breathing was still heavy, he couldn't help but laugh when he saw the abundant "fruits" filling the room.

Chris bent down at the opportune moment and said:
“However, grandfather, I think they will fall into your trap, not because they are stupid, but because their confidence in the name ‘Stonefield’ has exceeded their own level of understanding.”

A smile, a mixture of admiration and mockery, appeared on his handsome face:
“They will believe that it is because you and your family have established an image of being ‘omnipotent’ over the decades.”

"In the realm where magic and technology meet, and in attempts to push the boundaries of life, 'Stonefield' is synonymous with miracles."

"When their own ambitions and desire for immortality swell to their limit, they will naturally choose to believe in the most legendary and powerful name—no matter how unrealistic that hope may sound."

"It's not their fault; it's the 'myth' you and your family created that's been too successful."

As William listened to his grandson's compliments, his smile deepened, but gradually... it turned into disappointment and exhaustion.

He slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Myth...miracle..."

He murmured those two words repeatedly, a bitter smile curving his lips.

"Chris, do you know? I also... sincerely hoped that the myth could come true."

He opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the still, flawless puppets on the stage, his eyes becoming distant and unfocused:
"Forty years ago, no, even earlier... when I first realized that this body could age, could feel pain, and could betray my will, I began to look for a way out."

"I have accumulated wealth and resources that are unimaginable to ordinary people, and I... want to use them to buy the most precious thing in the world—time."

"I have funded more than 30 top research teams around the world to capture and purchase the most incredible creatures from all over the world to study the most obscure and evil magic and witchcraft."

"I also acquired seven of the most advanced biotech companies and had them research cell telomeres, gene repair, and consciousness digitization at any cost... trying even the most absurd methods, such as sewing monkey organs onto a human body!"

His voice grew softer and softer, as if he were being drowned out by something heavy:
"I invested so much money, so much energy, and countless people paid with their lives for it... but what was the result?"

He paused for a long time. The only sounds in the hall were the rustling of clothes as bodyguards carried the unconscious person and the low hum of machinery in the distance.

"—And the result?"

William abruptly raised his head, his aged eyes flashing with intense resentment and mockery:

"The result is—I spent forty years and invested enormous resources accumulated by generations of my family, only to prove one thing in the end—we can't do it!"

He let out a long sigh, a sigh filled with the weariness of having exhausted his life only to ultimately have to admit defeat:

"Chris, we're just ordinary people! Ordinary people who are contemptuously called 'Muggles' by those guys!"

"No matter how hard we try, we can't cross the boundary between life and death... How unfair this world is..."

After he finished speaking, he seemed to have exhausted all his strength, slumped back into his wheelchair, closed his eyes, and his chest rose and fell weakly.

Chris stood silently behind him, looking at his grandfather's aged profile, his eyes flashing with a complex and unreadable light—

There was a sense of awe for his grandfather's wisdom, pride in the family's strength, excitement about the current situation, and a hint of deep-seated doubt hidden beneath the respectful exterior—a subtle questioning of the conclusion that it "could not be done."

After a moment, he said softly, "In any case, your plan has succeeded, Grandfather, and that is something to be happy about."

William finally perked up a bit: "Yes...yes...I should be happy...let's not talk about those unpleasant things..."

He raised his withered, twig-like finger and pointed it at the unconscious people:
"These fools actually expect me to grant them immortality. But rather than paying a huge price for what little they have, I'd rather take everything from them!"

Seeing the last guest being carried out by bodyguards, William's face lit up with an excited smile, his expectant expression like that of a child about to receive his birthday present.

He slowly raised his hands and clapped three times.

Snapped!
Snapped!
Snapped!
The side door of the venue quietly opened, and a group of people dressed in leather shoes walked out one after another. They had the same appearance as the previous guests, wore the same clothes, and even their smiles were so similar that they seemed to have been copied and pasted.

Chris suddenly felt a chill creep up his spine.

(End of this chapter)