Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Moreover, the amount of Galleons they received was pitifully small, while they paid the price with their lives. They had long been tired of living in fear and anxiety.

A thought began to grow wildly in their minds like a vine: most of these Death Eaters came from prominent pure-blood families, and each of them was a wealthy wizard. If they were released and joined Voldemort with them, becoming members of the so-called "New World," could they escape their current predicament and live a rich and stable life? Once this thought appeared, it could no longer be suppressed, and their originally firm stance began to waver.

Meanwhile, on the open ground outside the Quidditch pitch, Barty Crouch, upon hearing Voldemort's words, stared wide-eyed in disbelief at the figure in the hazy green light of the night sky.

Forgive the traitor? How could that be the words of the ruthless, vindictive Voldemort?

He subconsciously looked down at Igor Karkarov, who was still lying on the ground not far away. Karkarov struggled to support his weak body, raised his head and looked up at Voldemort in the sky. His eyes, which had been dimmed by pain, were now bright and sparkling with longing and wavering.

Clearly, even though he had just been cruelly tortured by Voldemort as a "magical conductor" and was on the verge of death, Igor Karkaroff was now completely tempted and had the idea of ​​returning to Voldemort's side.

The mere mention of Igor Karkaroff sent chills down Barty Crouch's spine. He had every reason to believe that the Death Eaters who had fled around the world and had once betrayed Voldemort would likely experience similar tremors upon hearing these words.

Ordinary wizards who originally knew nothing about Voldemort but were attracted by the eeriness of the Dark Mark or by the inflammatory words in his speeches would also have their impression of Voldemort changed because of this "generous" statement, and might even be won over by him.

Recalling Voldemort's highly persuasive speech, Barty Crouch dared not think any further. The wizarding world was likely to face an unprecedented upheaval and crisis!
In the night sky, Voldemort's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile. He could clearly feel that his words had achieved the desired effect, and countless hearts were swaying for him. He knew it was time to issue the final call to action.

Voldemort took a deep breath, channeling his magic to make his voice fuller and deeper, filled with an irresistible welcome: "Come! Put aside your worries and come to me! Let's build a whole new world together! I will..."

"Hmm?" Barty Crouch suddenly noticed something was wrong.

High in the sky, Voldemort's lips were still moving, as if he were saying something crucial, but his voice suddenly stopped and could no longer reach the ears of the others.

“Headmaster Dumbledore is already making his move.” Dylan spoke calmly from the side, then glanced at Cornelius Fudge, whose expression was still flustered, and turned to Barty Crouch the Elder, asking, “Mr. Crouch, Mr. Fudge, do you know the specific route to Azkaban? I need to go there immediately.”

“Azkaban? What are you doing there?” Cornelius Fudge’s face turned even uglier when he heard the name of the place he loathed. The previous escape from Azkaban had put him under tremendous pressure, and now he was facing the crisis of Voldemort’s return, making his situation even worse.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his inner turmoil, and looked at Dylan, tentatively asking, "Mr. Dylan, what are you suddenly going to Azkaban for? Could it be... that something has happened there that we don't know about?"

"Come on! Put aside all your worries and come find me! Let's build a brand new world together! I'm in Durmstrang..."

Voldemort's call to action came to an abrupt end, the second half of his sentence failing to be fully conveyed.

A flicker of astonishment and disbelief flashed in his eyes for a moment. His gloomy face was like the unyielding ice of a snow-capped mountain, cold enough to freeze the air. Suddenly, an unusually strong magical fluctuation surged around him, enveloping his voice like an invisible barrier, completely drowning out his subsequent words in the turbulent energy.

The first thought that flashed into his mind instantly was—Dumbledore has come looking for him!
This was completely beyond his expectations!

He never expected that Dumbledore could pinpoint his location so quickly, nor did he expect that the other party would directly tamper with the Dark Mark, severing his audio connection with wizards worldwide.

Voldemort carefully sensed the magical aura around him, and his heart sank. The spellcasting technique that Dumbledore was using was actually a secret technique that he had carefully researched and created years ago!

This spellcasting technique has extremely strong persistence; as long as the caster is alive, the magical effect will continue and cannot be broken by conventional means.

The only way to break the curse is to completely end the life of the one who cast it.

"Dumbledore!" Voldemort's brows furrowed deeply, a sharp, cold glint in his eyes. His voice, strained from between his teeth, was filled with furious rage. "How dare you! You use the magic I created against me!"

The moment he roared, a dazzling figure, like a blazing flame, soared into the sky—it was Phoenix Fox. It spread its magnificent wings, its long tail trailing brilliant golden light like a flowing galaxy, and let out a clear, melodious, and delightful cry.

The cry pierced through the surrounding magical turbulence, echoing in the night sky for a long time, as if illuminating the dark night sky a little.

Phoenix Fawkes soared higher in the sky, scattering golden glints with each flap of his wings, while Dumbledore floated in the air as if on invisible steps, his robes fluttering in the night wind, his expression as calm and composed as ever, a gentle smile on his face.

"Tom, people must constantly learn and improve; that's the result of learning," Dumbledore said slowly, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable authority. "Aren't you the same?"

"If you didn't constantly learn and explore, how could you have reached the level you speak of? Just as you yourself boast—from soul form to physical reconstruction, you claim to be at the forefront of the magical realm…" "Shut up! Don't use these high-sounding words to cover up your hypocrisy!" Voldemort suddenly roared, rudely interrupting Dumbledore, his eyes almost burning with anger. "You know very well what this spellcasting technique represents!"

"Dumbledore! What exactly is your purpose?" He stared intently at Dumbledore, his tone filled with contempt and anger. "While all the wizards in the world can't hear our conversation, take off your pure white, high and mighty mask of hypocrisy! Are you trying to show me that you know more about dark magic than anyone else?"

"It's absolutely disgusting!" Voldemort's voice suddenly rose, filled with intense disgust and resentment. "In front of everyone, you pretend to be a righteous and awe-inspiring saint, far removed from darkness, but in secret, your understanding and application of dark magic is more proficient than any dark wizard! Dumbledore, your hypocritical behavior is truly repulsive!"

“You’re wrong, Tom.” Dumbledore shook his head gently, a hint of regret in his eyes. He looked at Voldemort, his voice softening. “I’m not trying to show off, but to let you see for yourself what magic truly is—it’s not just the darkness and destruction you’re so obsessed with, but also another side, a side you’ve never truly understood…”

In the night sky, two powerful magical auras collided and intertwined, forming visible energy ripples. Dumbledore's composure and Voldemort's rage formed a stark contrast, and an ultimate showdown concerning magical ideals and the conflict between light and darkness had begun.

"Enough!" Voldemort's roar exploded like thunder, and Dumbledore's calm and unwavering gaze seemed to possess a sharp penetrating power, piercing his nerves.

He desperately suppressed the urge to contort his face, only daring to vent his surging rage through his tone of voice—in Dumbledore's eyes, he saw no anger, fear, or other strong emotions, only a kind of almost compassionate calm, as if he were watching a lost, weak animal covered in wounds, rather than the Dark Lord who struck fear into the hearts of the entire wizarding world.

This feeling of being belittled and pitied infuriated Voldemort more than any harsh accusation. He stared intently at Dumbledore, his tone filled with impatience and sarcasm: "I know what you're going to say next! It's nothing but that empty rhetoric of 'love' again! It's always the same useless gimmick. Don't you have anything else to boast about?"

"It seems you will never understand." Dumbledore sighed deeply, his gaze still calm and sorrowful, without a trace of blame in his eyes, only deep regret, as if he were lamenting a soul that had gone astray.

That look pierced Voldemort's nerves once more. He could no longer suppress his rage, and suddenly raised his wand, his voice hoarse and resolute: "Avada Kedavra!"

A chilling green light suddenly erupted, like a swift lightning bolt piercing the night sky, instantly illuminating the misty green light enveloping Voldemort and Dumbledore's figures. That cold, piercing aura of dark magic, through the projection of the Dark Mark, spread to every corner of the world.

Wizards from all over the world, whether they were curious onlookers gathered around the Black Mark or wary observers watching from the shadows, involuntarily held their breath and clenched their fists the moment they saw the green light.

Although many young wizards were unaware of Voldemort's terror, they had all heard of the Killing Curse's infamous reputation—as the most vicious and deadliest form of dark magic in the magical world, it seemed that no one could truly escape its fatal blow.

Moreover, the Killing Curse cast by Voldemort was several times faster and more powerful than they had imagined. The suffocating sense of oppression could be clearly felt even from a great distance.

Faced with such a terrifying attack, could even someone as powerful as Dumbledore really emerge unscathed? This question arose in the minds of countless people, and their worries were palpable.

On the lawn outside Hogwarts Castle, Cornelius Fudge anxiously pressed Dylan about Azkaban: "Mr. Dylan, what exactly are you planning to do in Azkaban?"

Just then, a chilling green light suddenly burst forth in the night sky. The intense magical shockwave caused the ground to tremble slightly. Fudge was so frightened that he took several steps back, his face turning deathly pale, and his voice trembled: "Merlin's beard! That's... the Killing Curse! Headmaster Dumbledore... he won't be in trouble, will he?"

Barty Crouch's expression also became unusually solemn, his lips pressed tightly into a straight line, and he remained silent.

If his memory serves him right, he is certain that Voldemort is now even stronger than he was at his peak. As for Fudge's question, he simply cannot give a definite answer—will Dumbledore be in danger because of this?

After all, Dumbledore was getting old. Even though he still had the aura of being the "greatest wizard of our time," "great" did not equate to "eternal power."

Moreover, he was facing Voldemort, known as "the most powerful and dangerous dark wizard in history," and the danger of this duel had far exceeded everyone's imagination.

“Of course Headmaster Dumbledore will be fine.” Dylan’s calm voice broke the tense atmosphere. There was no worry in his tone, only absolute certainty. “Mr. Fudge, let’s get back to Azkaban. What have you thought about it? I need to leave as soon as possible.”

Meanwhile, in Azkaban's prison, the Death Eaters who witnessed Voldemort's attack erupted in a frenzied cheer.

"Master's power is even stronger! That old bastard Dumbledore is doomed!" They waved their withered arms, their faces full of ferocious smiles. The eerie green light reflected on their haggard and fanatical faces, presenting an indescribable eeriness and madness.

However, Voldemort himself was not as optimistic as the Death Eaters. The moment the Killing Curse was cast, he could clearly feel that his attack had not hit its target. He was not too surprised by this, after all, his opponent was Dumbledore. If he were really so easy to defeat, he would have already ruled the English wizarding world and then launched a war against the whole world.

As expected, after the eerie green light dissipated, Dumbledore simply stood there. (End of Chapter)