Voldemort Had Lost His Composure

Harry removed the flames burning the Dark Wizard, giving him ample time and space.

Azure flame gathered behind him, gradually forming a chair made of Gubraithian Fire.

He sat down in the chair, took out Crystal Ball from his pocket, set an alarm, and said to the Dark Wizard, "I'll give you one minute. If you don't answer my questions, you're dead."

After saying that, he placed the Crystal Ball aside.

"Take off the mask!" Harry ordered.

The Dark Wizard did as he was told, removing the Skull Mask from his face.

Harry then got a clear look at his face: a face full of fat, a fierce look, dull features, and a slightly tall stature.

But that doesn't matter.

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

"Corban Yaxley," the Dark Wizard said breathlessly.

"Where is Voldemort?" Harry asked again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I can't say," Yaxley replied curtly.

As soon as he finished speaking, flames suddenly surged up from all around, engulfing Yaxley.

The scorching sensation consumed his reason, and he watched as the flames swept over him, sticking to the burn wounds on his body once again.

"Aaaaaah—"

Yaxley could no longer bear it and screamed loudly.

Harry watched Yaxley scream with interest and said to him, "Screaming? Screaming counts as time—" "No, no, no, Mr. Potter, I'll talk!" Yaxley screamed, "Master, Master is at the Riddle Manor!"

The resurrection ceremony is taking place at the Riddle Manor! Peter is assisting him.

"Who else is helping us?" Harry asked.

"We don't know!" Yaxley cried out. "Anyone who asks about this dies! How dare we pry into the Dark Lord's secrets? I'm telling the truth! Spare me, spare me, Mr. Potter!"

As an outstanding fourth-year student, Harry didn't really have much of a murderous intent.

He removed the flames, leaving only a ring of guard flames to firmly encircle the Death Eater captives in the center.

He remembered Mr. Septimus's words well: it was best not to get too much blood on his hands. He didn't understand why Mr. Septimus would say that, but doing so wouldn't hurt.

After confirming that the prisoners would not escape, Harry continued forward, across the cemetery, and to a clump of bushes.

Just then, a short figure emerged from the Riddle Manor. His face was obscured, but the Charms he cast at the start was undeniably hostile.

A whooshing sound followed by a sharp scream pierced the night sky.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A bright green light appeared, but the Azure flame swallowed it whole, completely obliterating the two Charms.

Besides the short wizard in front of him, there was another voice behind him.

"That's impossible!"

A hissing sound came from behind him; it was Voldemort's voice.

"Nothing is impossible, my dear Tom." Harry turned around and said with a smile, "I really didn't expect to see you in Great Hangleton, Tom. Perhaps, in your middle age, you've suddenly thought of your Muggle blood and are yearning for fatherly love?"

"Sharp-tongued Potter!" Voldemort said sinisterly.

"I am indeed very curious, Tom," Harry asked leisurely. "Aren't you the one who most rejects your Muggle blood? Why did you come to Great Hangleton, to the Riddle Manor? Let me guess... is it because the resurrection ritual requires your father's bones? It's ironic that you hate your father so much, yet you have to be reborn with his bones. You're really disgusting, a bit hypocritical, Tom."

"Having both a duty and a responsibility?" Tom clearly didn't know what this phrase meant.

"So you're saying you want to be a whore and also want to have your cake and eat it too—" Harry shrugged. "That's what Professor Hoot taught me."

You probably don't know this person. Well, a hundred years ago, she was the professor of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts. Anyway, that's not a compliment.

"Potter, your verbal attacks don't anger me," Voldemort chuckled sinisterly. "I really don't care, I don't care what you say anymore."

"Yeah, I'm just stating the facts. If you get angry, it'll just seem like a weak rage," Harry said with a chuckle. "So, are you ready, my dear Tom, to let me kill you again and send you to another Horcrux?"

"It seems you already know the secret," Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes. "However, I have completed the Horcrux. I am immortal now unless you destroy Horcrux first. Otherwise, even if I am defeated by your Charms, I will quickly regenerate!"

At this point, Voldemort removed his hood, revealing a face paler than a skull.

Its two big, red eyes and its flat nose, like a snake's, with two thin slits in its nostrils, made it look like an electrical outlet commonly used by Muggle.

I'm sorry, I'm professionally trained and would never laugh out loud in this situation.

Harry clutched his stomach and burst into laughter.

Sorry, this is just too fucking funny.

"Have you laughed enough?" Voldemort chuckled sinisterly, then glanced down at the graveyard where Harry stood. "Harry Potter, you're standing on my father's bones—he was a Muggle and a fool, just like your own mother. But they were both useful, weren't they? When you were little, your mother died protecting you—I killed my father, you see."

He proved incredibly useful after his death—"

"See that house on the hillside, Potter? My father lived there—my mother was a witch who lived in this village and fell in love with him. But when she revealed her identity, he abandoned her. My father didn't like magic."

"He left her and went back to his Muggle parents before I was born, Potter. My mother died in childbirth, and I grew up in Muggle orphanage, but I swore to find him and take my revenge on the man who gave me the same name— Tom Riddle— "

He continued to come and go, his red eyes scanning back and forth among the graves.

This sounds like it was being said to Harry, but Voldemort was actually speaking to the Death Eater.

"How wonderful is the taste of revenge, Potter." Voldemort chuckled. "Admittedly, I do not like my father's dirty Muggle blood, but that is alright. I believe he is willing to atone for his past—if he could accept my mother, perhaps I would not be wandering around in an orphanage."

"Oh, come on, Tom." Harry rolled his eyes. "You know what kind of person your mother is. She's a complete bitch. She was infatuated with your father, that poor Old Riddle, and then she used Love Potion to rape him. He was so pitiful, suffering like that in life and now you're slandering him in death— Tom, is it so hard to admit your mother's a whore?"

Voldemort glared at Harry through gritted teeth; he was absolutely furious.

Why does this little brat always have to bring up the most sensitive topics?

But he forced himself to hold back and continued, "Okay, I'll admit you're right, but that's not a reason for that person to abandon my mother, the mother who loved me so deeply—"

"Come on, Tom." Harry rolled his eyes. "Your mom doesn't want you anymore, you poor, unloved wretch—if your mom loved you, why would she throw you into an orphanage? Look at your flawed logic. You seem like your brain isn't fully developed, your cerebellum isn't fully developed."

Voldemort is really a bit of a mess, but he's also quite defensive.

"Actually, I just had a chat with your mom, Tom," Harry added. "Guess what she thought?"

"What?" Voldemort narrowed his scarlet eyes.

"Hey, your mother's dead!" Harry laughed loudly and arrogantly.

Without warning, he suddenly raised his wand, and Charms like a laser cannon shot straight out from the tip of his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green Charms was so bright that the entire area within dozens of miles of Great Hangleton was bathed in a ghastly green light.

Voldemort was prepared. He suddenly appeared next to the original dwarf, who was then placed in the range of Avada Kedavra.

The dwarf died silently on the spot before he could even let out a scream.

"Oh, Peter," Voldemort said regretfully, "though he was a coward, he was the first to find my servant. You killed my closest servant, and I think you should give me a reasonable explanation, Mr. Potter— "

Oh, it's Pettigrew!

Harry felt a little regretful that this traitor had died so easily; it was somewhat of a shame.

Although he said he didn't really want to kill the other Death Eater himself, Harry really wanted Peter, the traitor, especially the traitor who betrayed his parents, to die a little slower.

You absolutely have to experience the feeling of slow-roasting at a low temperature with the Gubraithian Fire!

However, to be fair, he didn't really expect the sneak attack to kill Voldemort; it was just to give him a glimpse into his abilities.

"Of course, I think it's better to report this to Headmaster Dumbledore, don't you think?" Voldemort muttered to himself again, "Let him see what kind of students his Hogwarts has produced. Starting with such a forbidden Charms with his old senior—just judging from the level of the Charms, your killing intent is not small, Potter."

"Oh, that's not necessarily true," Harry said to Voldemort. "My situation is a bit special right now. I don't need any killing intent to cast a spell; I just throw it out with a flick of my wrist."

Upon hearing this, Voldemort fell silent.

He admitted that he was jealous.

No, why should I?

You could say that someone else has this talent, but the genius with such talent is actually his nemesis, Harry Potter.

That's fucking embarrassing.

"I admit you have some talent, Potter," Voldemort said after a long silence.

"I'm glad you complimented me," Harry said with a smile.

He was genuinely pleased that a man could acknowledge the excellence of another, especially a mortal enemy, which further proved the value of Harry's abilities.

However, he added, "Before I see you off, I have one more question, Tom."

"Tell me," Voldemort asked calmly.

"How many Horcrux have you made in total?" Harry asked. "Tell me, besides the diary that pretended to be a woman—pretending to be your mother to fool the kids in Slytherin House, and the Slytherin's Locket, how many Horcrux do you have?"

"That's confidential, Mr. Potter." Voldemort narrowed his eyes and asked, "You don't actually think I'd tell you so easily, do you?"

"Oh, how will you know if you don't try?" Harry shrugged and asked again, "So, where are you now, the one causing trouble in America?"

"Still in America, that's why I wanted to talk to you," Voldemort said. "So, you don't mind talking to me, Potter?"

"Of course I don't mind, but—"

At this point, Harry finally revealed his trump card.

While he was chatting with Voldemort, he controlled the Welsh Green Fire to burrow underground. After such a long period of preparation, the flame was ready to be unleashed at any moment.

Under his control, flames erupted instantly, like the Fire Prison of the Death Eater, surrounding Voldemort completely.

Harry nodded in satisfaction as he saw Voldemort encased in a cage of fireballs.

"That's much better, Tom," Harry said. "I feel safer this way, without having to worry about you sneaking away."

Voldemort fell silent.

"Can't there be some trust between people?" he asked.

"Of course, but only if I can guarantee you won't sneak away." Harry snapped his fingers.

The flames burned ever brighter, their Azure flame shimmering in Voldemort's crimson pupils, creating a rather comical sight.

"You should know, Harry," Voldemort said, "That I am not one to be easily subdued."

If there were anyone else here, they would be surprised by the way Harry and Voldemort address each other – one calls the other Tom.

The other person called the other Harry, as if they were old friends.

"Is that so?" Harry raised an eyebrow. In his guess, at most Voldemort would stage a suicide and return to his soul state. Anyway, he couldn't die completely.

Voldemort didn't speak, but just gave Harry a strange smile.

Beside them, the air suddenly distorted, accompanied by a snapping and a squeaking sound, and Veratia and Dumbledore appeared.

Just as he was about to say hello, Harry suddenly felt a chill creep up his neck like a bone-deep infection.

He saw Veratia's expression turn to surprise.

"Harry!"