I'm in a crossover anime world, and I've been transported to Hogwarts twice.

These runes writhed slowly like living things, emanating a powerful aura of dark confinement, curse, and destruction!

The ground and walls around the door frame were inlaid with a dozen huge rubies that looked like congealed blood clots, which were now emitting a faint red light, like the eyes of a demon spying in the darkness!

Just getting close to someone makes you feel like your soul is frozen and your blood is about to stop flowing!

This is Bellatrix Lestrange's infamous treasure trove, sealed away by layers of dark magic!

The car stopped ten meters away from the black gate, as if even the fairy driver dared not approach it any further.

Bognock slumped in the cart, barely able to stand.

He pointed to the black door that exuded an aura of terror, his voice barely audible, trembling with sobs: "My lord, this is it, this is Mrs. Bellatrix's vault."

Voldemort's crimson gaze swept over the black door, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

Without any hesitation, he pushed the nearly exhausted Bognock out of the car and walked step by step toward the black door that seemed capable of swallowing all life.

As he approached the door, the invisible pressure of black magic almost suffocated Bognock!

He felt like his heart was about to freeze!

The writhing, dark red runes on the door seemed to come alive, emitting a low, malicious hiss.

"Open it."

Bognock's voice carried a final despair.

Voldemort's cold gaze fell upon him, his crimson pupils devoid of any emotion.

"key."

Bognock mustered his last bit of courage and explained, his voice trembling.

"The vault can only be opened with the blood key of the Lestrange family."

He left 1 (7) billion Ba Siba's father in an attempt to fight for a chance of survival.

However, Voldemort's only response was the cold wand still firmly pressed against his temple, and a hoarse voice as if from the deepest hell: "Open."

The cold, unquestionable command.

Bognock shuddered!

"Or die here."

Voldemort applied slight pressure with his wand, the cold tip almost piercing Bognock's temple, bringing a sharp, stinging pain. His crimson snake eyes flashed with a destructive light.

choose?

No, this is not a choice at all!

Either die instantly from the Killing Curse, or the vault doors are opened; from now on, Gringotts' rules become a joke.

Either way, it's a dead end!

The last glimmer of light in Bognock's eyes went out completely.

An overwhelming sense of despair, like an icy tide, completely overwhelmed and froze him.

He stared at the black door that exuded an aura of death, feeling the cold, deathly touch on his temples. His emaciated body trembled violently like a candle flickering in the wind, finally collapsing into a silent, utter breakdown.

199 The mysterious man who returned after looting the vault.

Faced with the threat of absolute death, Gringotts' vault rules, the goblins' millennia-old pride, and even the fear of the backlash from dark magic all seem so pale and powerless.

Bognock, the old fox who might have once held onto a shred of professional ethics, completely broke down in the face of Voldemort's wand pressed against his temple, radiating a chilling aura of death.

What about Gringotts' reputation?

Between "immediate death" and "the possibility of death for the shrimp swarm," the instinct to cling to life and fear death instantly overwhelmed everything!

"Open it! I'll open it, sir! I'll open it!!"

Bognock was in tears, his voice shrill and distorted with extreme fear.

His withered fingers trembled like leaves in the wind as he tentatively reached for the massive black door that emitted an ominous dark red light.

He had no key, no bloodline mark, but as a senior vault guide at Gringotts, he knew some backdoor procedures for bypassing parts of the surface seal in emergencies—although these procedures were never intended to be used for the Dark Lord himself!

His fingertips moved swiftly across the writhing, lifelike, dark red runes in a strange, painful rhythm.

Each time it was touched, the demonic runes seemed to be enraged, emitting an even more piercing hissing sound and blazing red light!

Bognock's withered face instantly contorted with pain and extreme fear, as if the demonic runes were draining his life force!

But he dared not stop! He muttered incantations, chanting extremely difficult and taboo-filled fragments of spells in the fairy language.

Tsk-!

A piercing sound, like leather tearing!

The writhing, tangled demonic runes on the giant black gate suddenly froze!

In the center of the door, an extremely fine, almost invisible crack quietly appeared, and then quickly widened!

A chilling, foul aura, mixed with the stench of decaying metal, blood, and the remnants of powerful black magic, burst forth from the crack like an evil spirit imprisoned for centuries, instantly engulfing the space in front of the door!

A cold glint flashed in Voldemort's crimson snake eyes.

Without hesitation, as if returning to his own territory, he pushed open the heavy, seemingly silent, black gate, and his figure instantly disappeared into the deep darkness that radiated an ominous light.

The interior of Bellatrix Lestrange's vault is less a treasure trove and more an altar built of madness and bloodshed!

The mountains of Galleons, the glittering gems, and the ancient gold artifacts inlaid with skulls and snakes are just the most worthless background.

What truly caught the eye were the items, some carelessly discarded and others meticulously displayed, radiating powerful dark magical energy: twisted silver daggers, eyeballs soaked in an unknown liquid, cursed tomes bound in human skin, and even several skulls preserved by magic, their faces contorted in a grotesque manner. The air was thick with a nauseating madness and solidified resentment.

Voldemort's gaze, like the most precise radar, swept across this chilling "treasure trove" in an instant.

He didn't linger for a moment, nor did he glance at those items that would drive any dark wizard mad.

He went straight to an obsidian altar at the deepest part of the vault.

On the altar, a simple and elegant gold cup made of pure gold sits quietly.

The surface of the golden cup is engraved with an exquisite badger pattern, surrounded by vines and flowers, exuding a warm and ancient aura that is out of place with its surroundings—the Hufflepuff Golden Cup!

However, beneath this gentle warmth lies a dark, viscous curse, as sinister as a venomous snake!

That was a powerful protection personally placed by Voldemort to safeguard the Horcruxes!

Voldemort stretched out his pale hand, ignoring the cursed black light that could instantly corrode the soul.

That seemingly powerful protective curse, like thin ice meeting the scorching sun, sizzled and disintegrated instantly!

Voldemort easily picked up Hufflepuff's golden cup.

He didn't even glance at the container that held part of his soul; he simply tossed it into a black dragon-skin pouch that had been prepared beforehand and enchanted with a seamless stretching spell, as if it were a piece of trash.

The pocket has a huge interior space, like a bottomless pit.

The objective was achieved, but Genichi Hanyu's orders went far beyond that!

Voldemort's cold gaze swept over the mountain of wealth and dark magic items piled up in the vault.

"All."

A hoarse voice echoed in the empty vault, carrying an unquestionable command.

Bognock was still slumped at the door, witnessing the terrifying scene of Voldemort easily breaking through the Hufflepuff Cup's defenses, and was already scared out of his wits.

Upon hearing the word "all," he jolted awake and scrambled into the vault, disregarding any lingering curses and madness on the items. With all his might, he dragged and pulled the Galleons, gems, goldware, and dark magic items into the black dragonskin bag that Voldemort had opened!

Their movements were clumsy and awkward, yet they possessed a frenzied efficiency driven by death!

Voldemort, like a ruthless reaper, stood in the center of the vault, watching Bognock scurry about like a frightened mouse.

Whenever Bognock hesitated to approach something that emitted strong dark magical energy and could potentially harm him, Voldemort would slightly raise his cold wand and point it at him.

Bognock would let out a terrified whimper and rush forward, wrapping his hands in his robe or simply closing his eyes, tossing the dangerous object into his pocket!

Soon the huge vault was emptied, leaving only bare stone walls and altars, and the lingering madness and resentment in the air.

"next."

Voldemort's hoarse voice was like a death knell.

Bognock shuddered!

Despair surged into my heart once again!

But this time, he didn't even have the thought of resisting.

Under the silent threat of Voldemort's wand, he was like a tamed animal, resignedly leading Voldemort out of the Lestrange vault and heading towards other vaults containing enormous wealth—those belonging to other pure-blood families, wealthy merchants, and even certain anonymous black market bosses!

key?

Permissions?

These rules are meaningless in the face of Voldemort's wand!

Bognock used the backdoors and emergency procedures he knew, or simply broke through the powerful vault seals under Voldemort's cold "open" and the death threat of his wand!

Each forced activation was accompanied by a blinding flash of magical backlash, a piercing alarm, and Bognock's agonizing screams!

Voldemort was like a death reaper who had stumbled into a treasure trove.

He entered each vault, ignoring the priceless treasures, rare magical materials, and even the heirlooms of certain powerful families.

He simply and indifferently opened the dragon-skin bag that seemed like a bottomless pit.

Bognock, or the other terrified goblin guards who had rushed to the scene after being controlled by Voldemort's Imperius Curse, frantically stuffed everything in the vault, regardless of type or value, into that bag like dumping garbage, like the most humble porters!

Galleons poured in like a golden waterfall, and gems rained down. Precious magic scrolls, ancient armor, and even some enormous alchemical artifacts were all swallowed up by that small pouch!

The scene was chaotic yet efficient, filled with the raw atmosphere of violence and plunder!

Gringotts' centuries-old wealth is being plundered at an astonishing speed!

When the eighteenth vault—the treasure of an ancient but declining family of alchemists—was completely emptied, Voldemort's pale, corpse-like fingers were pressing against the drawstring of the dragon-skin pouch.

Suddenly, his scarlet snake eyes narrowed slightly.

The Fiendfyre spell he left at the entrance of Gringotts to seal the gate was powerfully broken!

Voldemort's movements did not pause for the slightest.

He instantly tightened the drawstring of the pocket and stuffed the small bag, which was filled with enough wealth to buy several small countries, into the inner pocket of his black robe.

His cold gaze shifted to Bognock beside him, who was exhausted like a dead dog, his vitality nearly depleted, and his eyes unfocused.

"go back."

The hoarse command was concise and clear.

Bognock felt as if he had heard heavenly music, and he practically tumbled and crawled toward the track car.

Voldemort, like a persistent carbuncle, followed closely behind.

Under the control of the fairy driver, the car sped upwards along the complex track.

The closer you get to the ground, the more you can hear the faint noise and chaotic footsteps coming from above!

When the car burst through the last dark tunnel and crashed back into Gringotts’ magnificent but now chaotic hall, the scene before it had changed dramatically!

The wall of raging, roaring orange-red flames that had sealed off the gate had vanished without a trace!

Instead, there were the wreckage of a bronze gate, melted into a twisted shape and emitting blue smoke, and the entrance hall area, charred and cracked by the high temperature, a complete mess!

The wizards and fairies who had been frozen in fear in the hall now seemed to have found their backbone!

A group of wizards dressed in crimson Auror uniforms and wielding wands stormed into the hall in battle formation!

They numbered at least twenty or thirty, and their leader was none other than Rufus Scrimgeour, the head of the Auror office at the Ministry of Magic!

His face was resolute, his eyes sharp as an eagle's. He raised his wand high, directing his men to quickly take control of the scene, calm the terrified crowd, and at the same time vigilantly search for traces of the intruders!

"Seal off all exits!"

“Protect the civilians!”

"Search for intruders! Beware of dark magic traps!"

Scrimgeour's loud, steady commands echoed through the hall, bringing a sense of order amidst the chaos.

The appearance of the Aurors eased the despair in the hall somewhat, and the survivors, as if seeing saviors, flocked to the Aurors.

However, just as this order was about to be restored—