Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

But no one expected that Voldemort would say such a thing, his tone clearly implying recruitment, just like a Muggle school teacher eager to recruit top talent, and he was trying to recruit this current genius of Hogwarts, which was far from his terrifying image as the "Dark Lord".

“Your proposal doesn’t seem very appealing to me.” Dylan smiled calmly, blinked slowly, and said in a flat but firm tone, “I’m sorry, but I cannot accept it.”

Before he could finish speaking, and before Voldemort's smile had completely faded, Dumbledore interrupted, his tone carrying a barely perceptible hint of sarcasm: "Voldemort, after all these years, have you really improved even a little?"

He slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over Voldemort from head to toe, his white beard swaying gently. "You look exactly the same as when you fell from power—I really can't see any noteworthy changes in you. Don't you know that a new Dark Lord has emerged? That being, even I don't know who he is. He appears and disappears like a ghost. I even suspected that you were him, but obviously, you are not."

"Hmph, Dumbledore, I maintain this appearance only so my men can recognize me at a glance." Voldemort's tone was icy and devoid of any emotion. He raised his hand, his long, slender fingers pointing downwards at Karkaroff, who was still curled up in agony on the ground. "Just like him!"

"Perhaps too much time has passed, and he seems to have forgotten who I am." Voldemort's voice carried a hint of displeasure, and a ruthless glint flashed in his narrow eyes. "Even now that I have returned, all he does is distance himself, completely forgetting who gave him power and status in the first place!"

“But you’ve reminded me.” He changed the subject, his tone becoming meaningful. “This snake-like appearance I have now is mainly to awaken the memories of my old subordinates. But my true appearance is actually like this.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the green halo in the night sky suddenly intensified, and Voldemort's figure began to rapidly change within the halo. His once smooth, mirror-like head quickly grew a head of thick, black hair, the strands soft yet carrying a hint of arrogance. The chilling crimson light in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a pair of deep black eyes, though the depths of those eyes still concealed an unyielding malice. Even his once flat, noseless face slowly developed a high, straight nose, his features gradually becoming more defined and profound, ultimately settling into a handsome face that was almost otherworldly.

"How is it?" Voldemort's lips curled into a cold smile, his eyelids lowered slightly, and he looked down at Dumbledore with an arrogant tone. "This is my true self, and it is the self that those traitors and doubters will need to remember."

His tone suddenly paused, a sly glint in his eyes. "However, surprises are always saved for last, aren't they? Now is not the time to reveal everything."

"As for that new demon king you mentioned? Ridiculous! A cowardly coward! He stole my former subordinates, and I thought he was someone important! But when I ruthlessly brought those men back, he didn't even dare to show his face! Humph!"

Then, his gaze turned to Dylan again, his handsome face carrying a hint of seemingly sincere expectation: "Won't you seriously reconsider? I can assure you that the resources and knowledge I can give you will be no less than those at Hogwarts, and may even far exceed your imagination! I have already seen the talent you have recently shown; you will definitely become the most powerful subordinate in the future!"

“I’m just a simple little kid who doesn’t understand anything, so I won’t leave Hogwarts. Therefore, my answer will always be the same—I refuse.”

“So that’s how it is.” A dangerous glint flashed in Voldemort’s eyes. Although his face was still exceptionally handsome, the sinister and ruthless nature that emanated from his very bones gave him a chilling aura. He spoke slowly, his voice low and cold, “What a pity. I thought you would be a sensible person. You may not know how terrifying I am. You could have had a brighter future. You could have walked alongside me on the path to the pinnacle of magic, exploring those untouched realms.”

"However, you chose a path that will be fatal to you."

His gaze shifted to Dumbledore, who stood calmly to the side, his tone full of disdain and mockery: "Willingly bound to such a pedantic and conservative environment, like mold clinging to a dilapidated wall, languishing and languishing without any progress."

Upon hearing these words, Connelly Fudge subconsciously turned to look at Dylan, his eyes filled with complex emotions. He was secretly alarmed and couldn't help but wonder if he had really underestimated Dylan's strength.

"Is that so? Mold clinging to the walls?" Dylan met Voldemort's gaze and asked calmly, his composed smile still on his face. "However, I know you better than you think. You seem to have a particular fondness for the 'pedantic environment' of Hogwarts. In the past few years, you've tried to cause quite a bit of trouble here, haven't you? But it seems you didn't succeed at all? I don't know what you were up to, failing so inexplicably."

"Enough!" Voldemort's face instantly turned ferocious, his once handsome features twisted and deformed with rage. He shouted, forcefully interrupting Dylan's words, his eyes blazing with terrifying fury.

“Alright, alright.” Dylan’s tone carried a hint of feigned regret as he shrugged. “Since you don’t want to hear about it and don’t want to bring up these past events anymore, then I won’t say any more. But…”

He abruptly changed the subject, a sly glint in his eyes, his words laced with obvious mockery: "You've gone to such lengths to invite me to join, you wouldn't happen to have other plans, would you?"

"Is it because you've been unable to get revenge on Professor Dumbledore that you're trying to transfer your resentment onto me?" Dylan's gaze was fixed on Voldemort, his tone becoming increasingly mocking. "You want to replay all the 'injustices' you think Headmaster Dumbledore did to you on me? Seriously, I have to tell you..."

Just then, a strange noise came from afar. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw that Karkarov, who had been lying on the ground, had somehow sat up. His body was undergoing a bizarre change. His left side was swelling up rapidly like an inflated balloon, his skin taut, as if he might be blown away at any moment. Meanwhile, his right side was shrinking and shriveling at the same alarming rate, like a deflated sack. His entire body was in an extremely distorted state, which looked shocking.

Voldemort's face grew even more ferocious and terrifying. He stared intently at Dylan, unable to contain his rage any longer, and roared at him, "Enough! I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense!"

As his roar subsided, a blinding burst of light erupted from Karkaroff's body. The light gradually faded, and the deafening roar disappeared as well.

Karkaroff's body finally stopped its bizarre transformations and returned to its normal form, but his face was bloodless, as pale as a sheet of paper, his lips were cracked, his eyes were closed, and he looked lifeless, like a soulless corpse.

Clearly, Voldemort's use of him as a "magical conductor" to cast such a powerful spell caused immense damage to his body.

Dylan understood; Voldemort was too far from Hogwarts at the moment, so it was already quite remarkable that he could cast such a spell.

Hmm, the shimmer is quite nice, but in Dylan's opinion, it could definitely be even shinier.

“I still have to say it, I have to tell you.” Dylan cleared his throat and said in his usual teasing tone, “Voldemort, you’ve lived for so many years, you’re not young anymore, you really shouldn’t be in this state.”

"Can you see yourself resembling something?" He paused deliberately, looking at Voldemort's increasingly gloomy face, and continued, "Like a little baby who can't get what he wants and is crying and making a fuss, wanting nothing more than his parents' approval. Honestly, that's not good at all, it's childish."

"Voldemort, perhaps you could try to be a little less childish."

Dylan's tone gradually became more serious, yet still carried a hint of teasing, "Everyone should have their own pursuits and not always dwell on past grievances. Also, if you want to come to Hogwarts next time, you might as well write a proper application and come in openly and honestly, instead of sneaking around like before—that's really unbecoming of your 'Dark Lord' status. Oh, of course, I've also heard that the Dark Lord has changed. Do you know him? He's hiding much better than you."

"Cough cough cough..." A soft cough sounded, and Dumbledore raised his hand to cover his lips. The corners of his mouth, which were originally tightly pursed, could not be suppressed and turned up, forming a clear arc. Obviously, Dylan's bold and playful words also surprised the calm old headmaster and made him unable to help but laugh.

Mrs. Maxim's expression was strange, her eyes filled with disbelief—she had never expected that Dylan would dare to contradict Voldemort in such a direct and even mocking tone, his words sounding like a public "lecture" to the fearsome Dark Lord!
But he's just a minor wizard!

Barty Crouch's eyes widened as he looked Dylan up and down, as if he were seeing him for the first time. He had never imagined that anyone would dare to be so brazen in front of Voldemort, even using the word "brat" to describe him. This was unprecedented audacity!
Cornelius Fudge watched this scene and felt a strange sense of envy. He couldn't help but think to himself, how wonderful it would be if he could be like Dylan, easily provoking Voldemort and remaining unscathed, then "perform" well in front of all the Ministry of Magic staff. He could demonstrate his courage and solidify the Minister's authority. Unfortunately, he didn't have that kind of strength or confidence.

Among the Ministry of Magic staff present were many young people who had not personally experienced the dark ages of Voldemort's reign. Their fear of Voldemort largely stemmed from descriptions by their elders and the legends passed down through generations. Now, witnessing Dylan so directly provoking Voldemort, and seeing Voldemort seemingly unable to do anything more intimidating than roar in anger, the fear in the hearts of these young staff gradually faded, replaced by a sense of amusement and even a genuine admiration for Dylan—the courage to "confront" the Dark Lord so openly was truly admirable.

"Merlin's big stockings!" The accompanying photographer's eyes widened, his tone full of amazement. "These words may not contain any profanity, but their destructive power is more potent than the most vicious curse! Anyone would probably be driven mad by being 'lectured' like that, right?"

He turned to Rita Skeeter beside him and said thoughtfully, "Rita, I suddenly feel that Dylan could totally take over your job and become the chief reporter for the Daily Prophet—his ability to grasp the key points and hit the nail on the head is far superior to yours!"

"No!" Before Rita could respond, he immediately changed his mind, shook his head and said, "Thinking about it carefully, it seems he doesn't need to take over your job. With his status and strength, he doesn't need to rely on writing reports to attract attention."

"You don't need to say these things!" Rita Skeeter glared at the photographer, urging him urgently, "Stop talking nonsense and get on with your photos! The mysterious man's furious state is a once-in-a-century opportunity; if you miss this, you'll never have another chance!"

"Of course, of course." The photographer nodded quickly, raised his camera, and frantically pressed the shutter button on Voldemort's figure in the night sky.

On the other side, Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously, and a terrifying crimson light reappeared in his previously normal black eyes. The air around him seemed to freeze and turn cold because of his anger.

Seeing this, Dumbledore took two steps forward without hesitation, firmly blocking Dylan's path. Through Karkaroff's strange changes in his body, he had keenly sensed that Voldemort could use Karkaroff as a "magical conductor" to cast spells.

Voldemort's most proficient and frequently used technique was the Killing Curse, so Dumbledore had to instinctively be on high alert to prevent him from launching a sudden fatal attack.

However, what happened next exceeded most people's expectations. Without any warning, the menacing black demon mark in the night sky gradually became transparent, faded, and finally disappeared completely, as if the breathtaking confrontation had never happened. (End of Chapter)