Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 226, Section 225: Voldemort's Works and the Rising Horn Ritual
But compared to his excited friends, Harry was more concerned about the familiar feeling he got from Lockhart—he didn't know how to describe it, but it felt like seeing a familiar person again.

Lockhart's tone of voice, his manner of speaking, and especially his effortless demeanor during his duel with Snape—all these qualities were things Harry had never experienced with the Lockhart he knew before.

Just like—Quillot.

Suddenly remembering the enemy he had personally killed last year, Harry felt that he vaguely saw Quirrell's shadow in Lockhart now... just like Quirrell's performance in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class last year.

Harry's years of experience made him unable to ignore the premonition that arose in his heart, and he couldn't help but wonder—could Lockhart also be a Death Eater? Like Quirrell? Possessed by a fragment of Voldemort's soul?
Each fragment of the soul has its own will and plan, but each fragment of the soul also has the same way of thinking, so they all choose to find a body to possess.
Thinking from this perspective, Harry found that many questions that were previously unanswerable suddenly became clear. Dumbledore had said that Voldemort had always considered himself the heir to Slytherin, and judging from the current signs, it was Voldemort who released the Basilisk to kill Myrtle and then frame Hagrid.

Decades later, the Basilisk reappeared in the castle and even brazenly penetrated the walls to attack people in the school. Neither Harry nor Dumbledore believed that the Basilisk would suddenly go mad and destroy the castle to attack people after so many years of silence. This meant that someone must have given the Basilisk an order.

If a fragment of Voldemort's soul possessed Lockhart and controlled the Basilisk to attack humans, then everything would make sense.

Even Lockhart himself probably couldn't have imagined that Harry would doubt him based on such a vague feeling, and that the next day Harry would even go to Lockhart to observe his spirit using the astral perspective.

What puzzled Harry was that, from the astral perspective, Lockhart's spirit seemed normal. There was no chaotic aura or halo that appeared when life force was drained or multiple spirits were mixed together. In fact, the color was quite simple—it was just that it was filled with jealousy towards Harry when it spoke.

Harry didn't care about Lockhart's jealousy; after all, this man's ambitions were something he talked about all the time. In the end, Harry didn't choose to take the blame for attacking his colleague and politely left Lockhart's office.

"What should I do! He must be suspecting me!" The moment Lockhart saw Harry off and locked the office door, the smile that was always on his face vanished. He rushed to his cabinet in a panic, grabbed a crown decorated with huge gems and an eagle's head, and put it on his head.

Just like a person severely addicted to drugs who has already experienced withdrawal symptoms and then takes the drug again, Lockhart's panic has lessened considerably, but he still keeps his hands tightly pressed on his crown, only in this way can he barely calm down a little.

"Your intentions are too obvious! Fool!" That mouth tore Lockhart's face open again, cursing without any restraint.

"Vanity! Arrogance! They can't wait to show off after gaining just a little power, ha!"

"How ridiculous. You thought you could humiliate that boy after setting the rule that no other magic could be used, but you were instead met with a crushing defeat. How pathetic. Nobody cares about you, poor Lockhart. Nobody cares that you defeated Snape, and nobody cares about your great strength. They only care about themselves and want to learn that boy's new spell."

One sound after another, Lockhart's face was now so distorted that it had lost its human form, with three or four mouths emerging from his face and neck. These mouths were attacking the most vulnerable parts of Lockhart's heart with harsh words, causing him pain, anger, and shame.

“Nonsense!!” Lockhart screamed. “Those students! The Gryffindor students are cheering for me! I’m their hero! I beat Snape with ease!!”

"Oh, a hero?" one mouth scoffed, while the others laughed uproariously. "Weren't you one of those Gryffindors who bestowed the title of 'incompetent, good-for-nothing professor' upon you? Do you really think they'll respect you from now on? Because of your boasting? Or because of your incompetence?"

“I am not incompetent!!” Lockhart’s face flushed red. “I am powerful! I defeated Snape!! I am no longer the person I used to be. With Ravenclaw’s wisdom, I am smarter than anyone else! I am the smartest person in the world! Neither Dumbledore nor Mystic can compare to me!! I am the one who can truly advance magic! Not that inexplicable boy!!”

"Come on, Lockhart," he sneered. "No one knows you better than I do, and we know your soul better than you do—you don't really think you can easily handle Snape, do you? Do you dare to remove those inexplicable rules, stop using underhanded tactics to restrict your opponent, and truly fight Snape when he's unleashed?"

"A real wizard duel between men?"

"We all know that Snape is the real magical genius, a master of dark magic!" a voice chimed in from the side. "Even the Dark Lord admires his talent. Unlike a weakling like you, Snape is a true Death Eater. He even received personal instruction from the Dark Lord—do you dare face his dark magic?!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Before Lockhart could speak, Lockhart blurted out his true thoughts, which made Lockhart even more ashamed and angry.

“Snape is a true master of the Dark Arts. What trapped him wasn’t your ridiculous dueling rules, but Dumbledore’s orders—and how much do you understand about the allure of the Dark Arts? You know nothing but fame, fame, fame!”

"You've set up a stage for yourself, thinking you can win back the students' adoration, but those students aren't fools. They can see through the despicable methods you used to restrain Snape and that boy. They all understand that if you were to truly fight without restraint, you poor fool would have no chance of winning."

"You know it yourself... what a foolish thing you did," the mouth continued to gnaw at Lockhart's mind. "A basilisk, even a thousand-year-old basilisk bred by Slytherin himself, a creature that ordinary wizards couldn't possibly fight, far more powerful than you, was destroyed in a sea of ​​fire because of your vanity and jealousy... a meaningless death, so laughable..."

"enough!!!"

Unable to bear it any longer, Lockhart angrily tore at his hair and cheeks as if he could rip those mouths off and shred them to pieces. He screamed, his voice drowning out everything else.

And those mouths finally quieted down; they seemed to be laughing, laughing with satisfaction—yes, the crown Lockhart was wearing at this moment was the legendary Ravenclaw crown that could enhance the wearer's wisdom, but this crown had now lost that function.

Because Voldemort found it many years ago and made it into his Horcrux.

From then on, this magical ability was only available to Voldemort himself.

It still hung firmly atop Lockhart's maddened head, the enormous blue jewel on the crown gleaming brightly. Voldemort's soul was satisfied—satisfied with the creation of his own making. A dark soul, consumed by envy and driven mad.

There could be no better offering.

....................................

The world of leather suitcases, Mulgore.

The once idyllic valley has now transformed into a crystal-blue world, much like the magically imbued areas where the blue dragon dwells. The only difference is that this valley is not infused with magic, but with frigid ice and snow.

It's as if an invisible dividing line surrounds this valley; inside the line is a world of ice and snow, while outside the line, the climate remains mild.

Angry Horn... she was already backing out; Harry had pushed her several times, but she refused to go into the valley.

Because it's too cold.

Except for certain special varieties, most fire dragons are quite afraid of the cold; low temperatures will make them just want to sleep.

With the intelligence of a student, Angry Horn made a mistake that students often make, and she backed down—but that's okay, Harry will help her save face.

Several burly earth elemental giants forcibly carried Angry Horn into the valley. The cold here quickly made Angry Horn want to close his eyes and fall asleep... Although he was still reluctant, he eventually cooperated with the ritual after being comforted by Harry.

Ice or snow elements kept happily whistling through the valley, their legs rolled up. In the deepest part of the valley, there were even ice giants with arms and legs. They were translucent blue, and a single punch from them would surely make the giants cry.

But compared to these naturally born elemental creations, what attracted their attention at this moment was the dragon in a cleared area in the center of the valley.

White snowflakes had already settled on the head, tail, and some gaps in the scales of the Angry Horn. At first, she would shake her scales and neck uncomfortably, but when she realized that no matter what she did, she could not stop the wind and snow from turning her white, the Angry Horn gave up the struggle. Before long, she was turned white by the wind and snow, and from a distance, she looked like a white dragon.

Centered on the spot where the Angry Horn stands, there are three huge runic rings nested around each other, which eventually form a larger, complete ring. All of them are inscribed with elemental language, and their meanings basically cover aspects such as [soothing], [calming], [flowing], [sublimation], [fusion], [cohesion], etc.

The Ascension Ritual, the final transformation of a high-level shaman, can be said to be the greatest affirmation of a shaman's life achievements. It not only requires the shaman to achieve a deep resonance with the elemental spirits, but also a transformation of spirit and body, enough to control the most primal elemental power.

The most thorough ascension ritual can completely transform a shaman of flesh and blood into a new elemental being. From then on, there will be no more talk of elemental balance shamans or elemental equality. Instead, the rules within the elemental being will prevail—whoever has the bigger fist will be obeyed.

That's what elemental lords are like.

Of course, Harry isn't crazy enough to abandon his own flesh and blood, but Angry Horn is about to take that path first.

Her scales were disappearing, or more accurately, becoming transparent under the infusion of countless ice elements—not the kind of metallic transparency that Afu had polished and refined, but a transformation like that of ice, making her look more beautiful, more azure in color, and seemingly more fragile.

Harry, who was constantly chanting incantations and performing rituals, could even vaguely see the flesh and bones beneath the skin of the Angry Horn through its translucent scales, as well as its still-wriggling internal organs.

The boiling dragon blood was gradually becoming viscous and constantly condensing into sharp ice spikes, which made the pain felt by the Angry Horn even more intense—but to be honest, the pain that the Angry Horn felt at this moment was not this kind of physical pain. After all, in such severe cold, her dragon body had long been frozen numb, and to be honest, she could no longer feel any intense pain.

What truly made Nujiao unbearable was her own inner self—an indescribable coldness that felt like a giant hand gripping her soul, a pain of a deeper level.

According to the warnings of the old shamans in the tribe, the ascension of every shaman is not an honor, but a shackle; from then on, the elements will forever watch over your soul.

For the Angry Horn at this moment, her soul seemed to have lost all protection, exposed nakedly to the surrounding primal elements. The ice element was becoming a part of her soul, to the point that the transformation of her flesh and blood became commonplace.

It's like a dragon-shaped ice sculpture made from a pile of snow and ice.

Unlike a normal ascension ritual where elemental power needs to be controlled and withdrawn in time, Wrathhorn's transformation is permanent. She needs more elemental power to enter her body and soul, to become a power she can control, and to become a part of her.

Unable to calculate exactly how much time had passed, Harry was certain that the ice element throughout the valley had become thinner, the outside temperature was rising, and the frozen snow and ice were melting.

Apart from the enormous thing in front of him.

(End of this chapter)