Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Almost the instant the red light touched him, the black demon mark that had troubled everyone for so long in the sky vanished without a trace, like a bubble that had been popped. The eerie green light also faded and dissolved into the void, and the entire night sky returned to its original dark blue color.

"This...this, it just disappeared?" The Ministry of Magic staff present stared wide-eyed, their faces filled with disbelief, and for a moment they were speechless.

Mrs. Maxim was also taken aback, her eyes showing the same surprise.

No one expected that the Dark Mark that had troubled them for so long would be resolved by a simple Disarming Charm.

Dylan nodded. "That's good. Voldemort's use of this dark magic has gone beyond the realm of reason. He's treating you like a tool."

The Ministry of Magic staff present all turned to Dylan with puzzled looks, their eyes filled with incomprehension—how could this young man have come to such a bizarre yet accurate conclusion?

They glanced at Cornelius Fudge, only to find that the Minister of Magic also looked bewildered, just like them.

Seeing that even the minister didn't understand, the staff's doubts lessened a bit; at least they weren't the only ones struggling to keep up.

"Really... my arm doesn't hurt anymore!" Karkarov suddenly exclaimed in surprise, a glimmer of relief flashing in his eyes. His eyes darted around as if he had thought of something, and he quickly turned around, his back to everyone present, curling up as if to hide some unspeakable secret.

After confirming that no one could see his left arm, he carefully lifted his sleeve and nervously scanned the skin of his arm. He found it smooth and clean, the burning pain had disappeared, and the mark of the Black Demon was gone.

However, this joy lasted for less than a second.

The next second, a hideous black mark reappeared on his arm, its color even deeper than before, as black as ink. Immediately afterwards, an even more intense and unbearable pain swept over him, as if countless steel needles were piercing his flesh and bone marrow at the same time.

"Aaaaaaaaaaa!"

Karkaroff didn't even have time to pull down his sleeve to cover the mark before he collapsed to the ground in pain, writhing violently and groaning in agony. As he struggled, the Black Demon Mark that had just disappeared reappeared in the night sky.

Gradually, changes even occurred. A hazy green halo emerged, growing thicker and clearer, slowly revealing a blurry human figure. Although the figure's features were unclear, it exuded a suffocating aura of darkness, sending a chill down the spines of everyone present.

The green halo in the night sky grew increasingly intense, and the outline of the blurry figure gradually became clear. The dark aura surrounding him almost solidified—anyone could recognize that this was Voldemort, who had disappeared for many years.

Dumbledore looked at Dylan, "It seems that the disarming spell you just cast actually allowed Voldemort to pinpoint our location."

Dylan blinked. "As expected of Voldemort, he's still pretty powerful."

He paused, organized his thoughts, and continued, "However, his current power is probably insufficient to simultaneously monitor and summon all the Dark Marks on the Death Eaters."

"Furthermore, his deliberate display of the Dark Mark through Karkaroff, and even his presence here, is likely intended to spread the news of his return throughout the magical world, creating panic. As for those Death Eaters..."

Dylan pointed to Voldemort, who was confronting Barty Crouch in the night sky, and said with a hint of certainty, "To him, the Death Eaters at this moment can only be considered as usable magical conductors, rather than extensions of his own life in the true sense, otherwise he would have come long ago."

“Yes, I know him too well.” Dumbledore’s smile faded. “At this moment, he must have gained confidence and firmly believes that his plan will be successfully completed.”

His gaze returned to Voldemort's figure, a hint of seriousness in his voice, "That's why he seems so composed, not immediately launching his scheme, but deliberately showing himself at this moment. Perhaps he wants to savor the thrill of being in control before the actual operation."

Dylan nodded silently, completely agreeing with Dumbledore's assessment—this was most likely Voldemort's true thought at that moment.

He had previously shattered Voldemort's dream of resurrection in several waves.

He even brought Horcruxes and souls into his own world.

Voldemort no longer knows how he failed before, but he knows he has failed.

So after lying low for so long, they've finally decided to come out.

During this period, can it be said that he did not make any preparations?

How could that be?

Within the circular halo formed by the Black Mark in the night sky, the swirling green light grew increasingly dense, churning and surging like boiling venom. Connelly Fudge stared intently at that green light, a terrifying thought suddenly flashing through his mind. Beads of sweat instantly appeared on his forehead, rolling down his cheeks and soaking his collar. His chest heaved violently as he desperately tried to regulate his erratic breathing, attempting to suppress the surging fear within him.

As Minister for Magic, he had to maintain his final dignity, so he gritted his teeth, raised his voice as high as he could, and sternly ordered the Ministry of Magic staff around him: "Everyone, listen up! Immediately target Karkaroff and cast the Disarming Charm! Now!!!"

This time, Fudge's orders finally worked. The Ministry of Magic staff, who had been blinded by fear, seemed to be suddenly awakened. They reacted quickly, trembling as they pulled their wands from their pockets and pointed the tips at Karkaroff, who was writhing on the ground in pain.

Karkaroff looked utterly wretched. His expensive wizard robes were torn to shreds, covered in brown dirt and bits of grass. He gripped the ground tightly with both hands, dirt embedded in his fingernails, his knuckles white from the force. The extreme pain from the Black Mark had completely distorted his features; his mouth was crooked, his eyes were tightly closed, and he would occasionally convulse and tremble, emitting suppressed and painful groans. He looked completely disheveled.

Just before the Ministry of Magic staff uttered the incantation, the figure in the hazy green light gradually took shape. The figure had its back to the crowd, was tall and slender, and wore a jet-black wizard's robe that trailed down, standing out against the green light, its edges blurred as if swallowed by darkness.

His head was smooth and hairless, like polished obsidian, while the exposed skin on his neck was an eerie bluish-white, exuding a deathly chill that sent shivers down one's spine.

Connelly Fudge opened his mouth, wanting to shout the order again for the staff to launch an immediate attack, but his throat felt like it was blocked by a thick block of ice. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't utter a complete syllable, only making a "hoarse" sound. His face was full of anxiety and panic.

As the figure slowly turned around, Fudge finally saw his face clearly. A chill ran down his spine and through his entire body, making him stiffen. He even became careful with his breathing and dared not make a sound—he was afraid that his movements would attract the other party's attention.

The figure had a face that resembled a venomous snake. Where the bridge of the nose should have been, there was nothing but two narrow nostrils, making the entire facial contour appear unusually flat. The eyes were narrow and sharp, and the pupils were not round like human eyes, but rather like upright olive pits, slightly contracted, faintly flashing a scarlet light. That light was cold and cruel, as if it could penetrate a person's soul, making people fearful.

Barty Crouch looked up at the figure, his eyes burning with rage, his tone revealing undisguised disgust and hatred as he uttered that chilling name, word by word: "Voldemort!"

"How is it?" Voldemort spoke slowly, his voice low and hoarse, as harsh as the friction of metal, yet it carried an indescribable sinister joy, as if he were truly catching up with an old friend he hadn't seen in a long time. "Old Barty Crouch, I didn't expect that after all these years, you would still remember me."

"Hmph!" Old Barty Crouch let out a cold sneer, his disgust undiminished, and retorted sharply, "Unless you completely disappear from this world, I will never forget you!"

Voldemort's lips curled into a sinister smile, which looked particularly terrifying on his eerie face: "Old Barty, your persistence is truly 'admirable'."

Cornelius Fudge, standing to the side, watched the standoff before him, a strong sense of resentment rising within him. He wanted to say something, to prove that he was the supreme leader of the English magical world, the Minister of Magic, but each attempt ended in failure—either his mouth opened but no sound came out of his throat, or a faint airflow came out of his throat but his mouth seemed to be bound by an invisible force, unable to open or close.

He could only stand there like a stiff scarecrow, his legs trembling uncontrollably, using all his strength to maintain his standing posture, trying to preserve the last bit of dignity of the Minister of Magic.

Voldemort's gaze slowly moved, finally landing on Dylan and Dumbledore. His narrow pupils contracted slightly, and his tone remained cold, but with a hint of intrigue: "It's been a long time."

The sinister smile on his lips had not faded as he slowly said, "It is a kind of fate to reunite with the professor who once taught me on this occasion. And you, little wizard, you should not be standing next to him. Your dark magic skills should be used by me."

"A mysterious figure is trying to snatch Hogwarts students right in front of Dumbledore. Is this a provocation against the Headmaster?" Rita Skeeter stood on tiptoe, craned her neck, adjusted her jeweled spectacles, and her eyes behind the lenses gleamed with greed. Her body trembled slightly with excitement as she muttered, "Old Merlin, this is truly earth-shattering news!"

"Headmaster Dumbledore, there's a saying that goes something like this."

Dylan slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and landing on Voldemort's figure in the night sky. His tone was calm yet firm, "What the enemy wants to achieve, we must stop. He wants to recruit me. Are you willing to let your student be poached like this?"

Dumbledore gently stroked his white beard: "Of course not."

He changed the subject, looking at Dylan with a hint of expectation in his eyes: "But then again, being able to use this to buy him time and give us more time to prepare is not a bad thing. But Dylan, do you have any other ideas?"

“Other ideas? Hmm, I have a special Dark Mark carrier here.” Dylan said, slowly reaching into his pocket. “I can use this carrier to sense and pinpoint Voldemort’s true location. Once we find his hiding place, our subsequent response will be much more targeted.”

“But you’ll need some time…” Dumbledore nodded slightly, a knowing smile on his face. “It seems I should have a good chat with Voldemort.”

Just as the two were talking in hushed tones, Voldemort seemed to notice their attention. He slowly raised his arms, and his voice, carried by magic, resounded throughout the entire area with an undeniable air of authority: "Dumbledore, do you remember what I said back then?"

He paused, his tone filled with arrogance and conceit, "I have already pushed magic to unprecedented heights, unmatched by anyone!"

Then, his gaze fell on Dylan again, a glint of light flashing in his narrow pupils: "You, the wizard kept by Dumbledore's side, I can give you a chance to choose—join me. Do you want to pursue immortality? On this path, no one has gone further or deeper than me! Whether it is immortality on the level of the soul or the transformation on the level of the body, I stand at the forefront of the entire magical world!"

"You must be a person with an extremely strong thirst for knowledge. What Hogwarts can teach you is no longer enough to keep up with your pace." Voldemort's voice became more and more persuasive, like a teacher patiently advising a student. "And now I can not only satisfy all your thirst for knowledge, but also give you supreme power. Those most core and most secret knowledge, Dylan, I can bestow them upon you."

Upon hearing these words, the expressions of everyone present became complex, filled with doubt and confusion. According to their original expectations, Voldemort and Dumbledore should have been engaged in a fierce battle—whether a direct confrontation on a magical level or a clash of ideologies, it should have matched everyone's imagination of an encounter between these two legendary figures. (End of Chapter)