Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 296 Voldemort's defenses have been breached
Harry removed the flames burning the dark wizard, giving him ample time and space.

Azure flames gathered behind him, gradually forming a chair made of ancient celestial fire.

He sat down in the chair, took out a crystal ball from his pocket, set an alarm, and said to the dark wizard, "I'll give you one minute. If you don't answer my questions, you're dead."

After saying that, he placed the crystal ball aside.

"Take off the mask!" Harry ordered.

The dark wizard did as he was told, removing the skull mask from his face.

Harry then got a clear look at his face: a face full of fat, a fierce look, dull features, and a slightly tall stature, but that didn't matter.

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

“Corban Yaxley,” the dark wizard said breathlessly.

"Where is Voldemort?" Harry asked again.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, I can’t say,” Yaxley replied curtly.

As soon as he finished speaking, flames suddenly surged up from all around, engulfing Yaxley.

The scorching sensation consumed his reason, and he watched as the flames swept over him, sticking to the burn wounds on his body once again.

"Aaaaaah—" Yaxley could no longer bear it and screamed loudly.

Harry watched Yaxley scream with interest and said to him, "Screaming? Screaming counts as time—"

"No, no, no, Mr. Potter, I'll tell you!" Yaxley cried out, "Master, he, Master is at Riddle House, performing the resurrection ritual at Riddle House! Peter is assisting him..."

“Who else is helping us?” Harry asked.

“We don’t know!” Yaxley exclaimed. “Anyone who asks about this dies. How dare we pry into the Dark Lord’s secrets? I’m telling the truth! Spare me, spare me, Mr. Potter!”

As an outstanding fourth-year student, Harry didn't really have much of a murderous intent.

He removed the flames, leaving only a ring of guard flames to firmly encircle the Death Eater captives in the center.

He remembered Mr. Septimus's words well: it was best not to get too much blood on his hands. He didn't understand why Mr. Septimus would say that, but doing so wouldn't hurt.

After confirming that the prisoners would not escape, Harry continued forward, across the cemetery, and to a clump of bushes.

Just then, a short figure emerged from Riddle's mansion. His face was obscured, but the spell he cast at the start was undeniably hostile.

There was a whooshing sound, followed by a piercing shout that pierced the night air.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A bright green light appeared, but the azure flames swallowed it whole, completely obliterating the two spells.

Besides the short wizard in front of him, there was another voice behind him.

"This is impossible!"

A hissing sound came from behind him; it was Voldemort's voice.

“Nothing is impossible, my dear Tom.” Harry turned around and said with a smile, “I really didn’t expect to see you in Great Hangleton, Tom. Could it be that you’ve suddenly thought of your Muggle blood and are yearning for fatherly love now that you’re middle-aged?”

"Sharp-tongued Pat!" Voldemort said sinisterly.

“I am indeed very curious, Tom,” Harry asked leisurely. “Aren’t you the one who most rejects your Muggle blood? Why did you come to Great Hangleton, to Riddle House? Let me guess… is it because the resurrection ritual requires your father’s bones? It’s ironic that you hate your father so much, yet you have to use his bones to be reborn… You’re really disgusting, a bit hypocritical, Tom.”

"To have one thing and do another?" Tom clearly didn't know what the phrase meant.

“So you’re saying you want to be a prostitute and also want to have a virtuous reputation—” Harry shrugged. “Professor Hao Ying taught me this. You probably don’t know her… well, a hundred years ago, she was the professor of magical creatures at Hogwarts. Anyway, it’s not a nice thing to say.”

“Potter, your verbal attacks don’t anger me,” Voldemort chuckled sinisterly. “I really don’t care, I don’t care what you say anymore.”

“Yes, I’m telling the truth after all. If you get angry, it would just seem like a weak rage,” Harry said with a chuckle. “So, are you ready, my dear Tom, for me to kill you again and send you to another Horcrux?”

"It seems you already know the secret..." Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes. "However, I have completed the Horcruxes. I am not going to die now unless you destroy the Horcruxes first. Otherwise, even if I am defeated by your spell, I will quickly regenerate in a short time!"

At this point, Voldemort removed his hood, revealing a face paler than a skull.

Its two big, red eyes, its flat nose like a snake's, and its nostrils as thin slits... it looks just like an electrical socket commonly used by Muggles.

I'm sorry, I'm professionally trained and would never laugh out loud in this situation.

Harry clutched his stomach and burst into laughter.

Sorry, this is just too fucking funny.

"Have you laughed enough?" Voldemort chuckled sinisterly, then glanced down at the graveyard where Harry stood. "Harry Potter, you're standing on my father's bones... He was a Muggle and a fool... just like your own mother. But they were both useful, weren't they? When you were little, your mother died protecting you... I killed my father, and you see how useful he is after he's dead..."

“See that house on the hillside, Potter? My father lived there—my mother was a witch who lived in this village and fell in love with him. But when she revealed her identity, he abandoned her… My father didn’t like magic…”

“He left her and went back to his Muggle parents before I was born, Potter. My mother died in childbirth, and I grew up in a Muggle orphanage… but I swore to find him… I took my revenge on him, the one who gave me the same name as him… Tom Riddle…”

He continued pacing back and forth, his red eyes scanning the graves.

This sounds like it was being said to Harry, but Voldemort was actually speaking to the Death Eaters.

“How wonderful is the taste of revenge, Potter.” Voldemort chuckled. “Admittedly, I do not like my father’s filthy Muggle blood, but that is alright. I believe he is willing to atone for his past—if he could accept my mother, perhaps I would not be wandering around in an orphanage.”

“Oh, come on, Tom.” Harry rolled his eyes. “You know what your mother is like. She’s a complete bitch. She was infatuated with your father, that poor old Riddle, and then she used aphrodisiacs to rape him. He was so pitiful, suffering like that in life and now you’re slandering him in death—Tom, is it so hard to admit your mother is a whore?”

Voldemort glared at Harry through gritted teeth; he was absolutely furious.

Why does this little brat always have to bring up the most sensitive topics?
But he forced himself to hold back and continued, "Okay, I'll admit you're right, but that's not a reason for that person to abandon my mother, the mother who loved me so much..." "Come on, Tom," Harry rolled his eyes. "Your mother doesn't want you either, you poor, unloved wretch—if your mother loved you, why would she throw you into an orphanage? Look at your flawed logic, you seem like you haven't fully developed your brain, your cerebellum isn't fully developed."

Voldemort is really a bit of a mess, but he's also quite cautious.

“Actually, I just had a chat with your mom, Tom,” Harry added again. “Guess what?”

"What?" Voldemort narrowed his scarlet eyes.

“Hey, your mother’s dead!” Harry laughed loudly and arrogantly.

Without warning, he suddenly raised his wand, and a spell like a laser cannon shot straight out from the tip of his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green spell was so bright that the entire area within dozens of miles of Great Hangarton was bathed in a ghastly green light.

Voldemort was prepared. He suddenly appeared next to the original dwarf, who was then placed in the range of Avada Kedavra.

The dwarf died silently on the spot before he could even let out a scream.

“Oh, Peter,” Voldemort said regretfully, “though he was a coward, he was the first to find my servant… You killed my closest servant, and I think you owe me a reasonable explanation, Mr. Potter—”

Oh, it's Peter Pettigrew...

Harry felt a little regretful that this traitor had died so easily; it was somewhat of a shame.

Although he said he didn't really want to kill the other Death Eaters himself, Harry really wanted Peter, the traitor, especially the traitor who betrayed his parents, to die a little slower.

You absolutely have to experience the feeling of slow-roasting at a low temperature with the ancient flames!

However, to be fair, he didn't really expect the sneak attack to kill Voldemort; it was just to give him a glimpse into his abilities.

“Of course, I think it would be better to report this to Headmaster Dumbledore, don’t you think?” Voldemort muttered to himself again, “Let him see what kind of students his Hogwarts has produced? Starting with such a forbidden spell as his senior… Just judging from the level of the spell, your killing intent is not small, Potter.”

“Oh, that’s not necessarily true,” Harry said to Voldemort. “My situation is rather special right now. I don’t need any killing intent to cast a spell; I just throw it out with a flick of my wrist.”

Upon hearing this, Voldemort fell silent.

He admitted that he was jealous.

No, why?

You could say that someone else has this talent, but the genius with such talent is actually his nemesis, Harry Potter.
That's fucking embarrassing.

“I admit you have some talent, Potter,” Voldemort said after a long silence.

“I’m glad you complimented me,” Harry said with a smile.

He was genuinely pleased that a man could acknowledge the excellence of another, especially a mortal enemy, which further proved the value of Harry's abilities.

However, he added, "Before I see you off, I have one more question, Tom."

"You speak," Voldemort asked calmly.

"How many Horcruxes have you made in total?" Harry asked. "Tell me, besides that diary that pretended to be a woman... pretended to be your mother to fool the kids in Slytherin, and the Slytherin pendant, how many Horcruxes do you have?"

“That’s confidential, Mr. Potter.” Voldemort narrowed his eyes and asked, “You don’t actually think I’d tell you so easily, do you?”

"Oh, how will you know if you don't try?" Harry shrugged and asked again, "So, where are you now, the one causing trouble in America?"

“Still in America, that’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Voldemort said. “So, you wouldn’t mind talking to me, Potter?”

"Of course I don't mind, but..."

At this point, Harry finally revealed his trump card.

While he was chatting with Voldemort, he controlled the Ancient Flame to burrow underground. After such a long period of preparation, the flame was ready to be unleashed at any moment.

Under his control, flames erupted instantly, like the fire prisons of the Death Eaters, surrounding Voldemort completely.

Harry nodded in satisfaction as he saw Voldemort encased in a cage of fireballs.

“That’s much better, Tom,” Harry said. “This way I feel safer, without having to worry about you sneaking away.”

Voldemort fell silent.

"Can't there be some trust between people?" he asked.

“Of course, but only if I can guarantee you won’t sneak away.” Harry snapped his fingers, and the flames burned even more fiercely, the azure flames reflected in Voldemort’s scarlet pupils, looking quite comical.

“You should know, Harry,” Voldemort said, “that I am not one to be easily subdued.”

If there were anyone else here, they would be surprised by the way Harry and Voldemort address each other—one calls the other Tom, and the other calls the other Harry, as if they were old friends.

"Is that so?" Harry raised an eyebrow. In his guess, at most Voldemort would stage a suicide and return to his soul state. Anyway, he couldn't die completely.

Voldemort didn't speak, but just gave Harry a strange smile.

Beside them, the air suddenly distorted, accompanied by crackling and popping sounds, and Vivi and Dumbledore appeared.

Just as he was about to say hello, Harry suddenly felt a chill creep up his neck like a bone-deep infection.

He saw Vivi's expression turn to astonishment.

"Harry!"

(End of this chapter)