Who Do You Think You Are, Harry Potter?

Voldemort was indeed very brave, but he was also very confident.

As a genius that Hogwarts has seen only once in decades, he certainly has the right to be proud.

I am a distinguished graduate of Hogwarts, a born Dark Lord. Beating a fifth-year student, isn't that an advantage for me?

"If I were you, I would be very careful, Tom," Harry said casually.

"Caution?" The black mist laughed. "You think I need to be cautious? You're just a fifth-grader, what do I need to be cautious about? Who do you think you are? Harry Potter?"

With that, his black mist transformed into a Fire Dragon, swooping down towards Harry.

"Feel sorry."

Harry reached out, compressed the black mist into a small sphere, and grabbed it.

"I am Harry Potter." He chuckled wickedly, looking every bit like a villain.

Completely and thoroughly.

"This can't be!" Voldemort roared in terror. "You can't be Harry Potter! He's disappeared! Decades ago... nobody knows where he went!"

"Look," Harry said, flicking the Voldemort ball with his fingers, "That's the difference between us, Tom. I never go around telling everyone who I am. It doesn't really do you any good. Only by catching you off guard can you achieve a decisive victory."

As Harry said this, he shook his head and shrugged, his tone full of sarcasm.

"I never imagined you would be such a secretive person." Voldemort ball struggled in his hand.

"Hiding and showing your face may be shameful, but it's very useful," Harry said with a chuckle. "We're wizards, not medieval knights, and you and I are both Half-blood wizards, so we don't need to adhere to any noble so-called Pure-blood ideals—as far as I know, you've done your fair share of sneak attacks, haven't you?"

Voldemort ball fell silent.

"Kill me," Voldemort ball hissed in Parseltongue, "Give me a quick death."

"Actually, I was originally going to just eliminate you, Tom," Harry said, bouncing the Voldemort ball up and down like a pinball. "But since you put it that way, then I'll—"

He paused for a moment, keeping everyone in suspense.

Voldemort was overjoyed.

Since Mr. Potter doesn't intend to erase himself, there's still a chance to turn the tables.

As long as you survive, everything will be alright.

Better to live a miserable life than to die a good death.

"Then I'll have to grant your wish," Harry said, crushing the Voldemort ball in his hand.

All that remained was Voldemort's unwilling "No".

Harry's consistent principle is to avoid leaving himself with future troubles.

However, just after Harry crushed Voldemort's black mist orb, his entire Mental World suddenly began to shake.

Harry looked up and saw that the sky in his Mental World had turned blood red.

What happened?

He squinted, searching carefully for the problem, but found nothing.

Is this Voldemort's backup plan?

Harry thought about it and realized it wasn't entirely impossible. Otherwise, why would Voldemort be in such a hurry for him to get rid of him?

But Harry didn't regret it. He had already killed them, and leaving any future trouble was not his style.

After reconfirming his Mental World, Harry chose to withdraw.

When he returned to the real world, he found Veratia and Dumbledore gathered around him with concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You just now..." Dumbledore said, frowning, "Your face was covered in red lines, as if you were possessed by something."

"Possession?"

Harry raised his arms and looked closely, then used Transfiguration to create a mirror to check again, but found nothing wrong.

"There's nothing wrong..."

"Something's not right, Harry," Veratia said softly. "What happened in the Mental World just now? Why did you react that way? Could it be some kind of Dark Magic Curse?"

Harry recounted in detail what had just happened in the Mental World to the two of them, especially the fact that the sky in the Mental World turned scarlet after he killed Voldemort.

"It shouldn't be Dark Magic Curse, right?" he joked. "If it were Dark Arts, it should be black, right? Red? Then wouldn't that be red magic?"

Alright, alright, the Crimson Devil Mansion, is it?

"Something's not right, Harry." Veratia reached out and touched Harry's forehead, sensing it for a moment before saying, "Your mental state and Magic Fluctuation are normal, but why did that happen just now? I don't understand..."

"Perhaps it's some kind of anomaly," Harry shrugged. "I think it's some kind of contingency plan Voldemort left behind, something that would be triggered after killing him..."

"That's why he doesn't seem scared at all, sister," Gellert suddenly interjected. "Look at him, where is he afraid? He's like a newborn Scarhead Veela isn't afraid of Fire Dragon..."

Veratia automatically filtered out her brother's words. She stood up and paced back and forth, deep in thought.

"There shouldn't be any major problems, Veratia," Harry reassured Veratia. "If there are any issues, I'll let you know immediately, okay? Besides, that's my Mental World Mental World. You remember what state I'm in there, right?"

"I'll find out what's going on, Harry." Veratia didn't answer Harry's question. "In the meantime, you can stay here... Don't go back to Hogwarts for now, since you don't have to take the OWLs exams anyway."

"Mr. LeMay should also be involved," Dumbledore suddenly said. "Mr. LeMay is an experienced Alchemy, he is very knowledgeable about curses, and besides... he has lived long enough and seen enough."

Veratia nodded in agreement.

Dumbledore acted swiftly, returning to Hogwarts and "inviting" Mr. LeMay out of his alchemy laboratory.

"What are you doing, Dumbledore?" Mr. LeMay muttered after arriving in Vienna. "Couldn't you have waited until I finished that game?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything. He thought to himself that by the time you finish one game, it might be the morning after tomorrow.

"Looks like Harry's in some new trouble, hasn't he?" Mr. LeMay rubbed his dry, bony wrists, looking Harry up and down with interest. "Tell me, Harry, what kind of trouble have you run into this time?"

"It's not a big problem."

Harry recounted the story to Mr. LeMay in detail, and upon hearing the end, Mr. LeMay nodded as if he understood.

"Oh," he said, "I personally think it's a curse... wait, I need to check Harry's condition more carefully."

After saying that, he said to Dumbledore, "Dumbledore, could you please return to my alchemy laboratory and bring me my things?"

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked.

"Once you get there, just ask Perenelle," Mr. LeMay said. "Just ask her where that thing I made on the night of June 30, 1873, is."

Dumbledore nodded.

He turned and left the office, and a short while later, he returned to everyone wearing something that looked like a helmet.

That helmet looked... a bit strange, like the helmets used by the Vikings, with two bull-horn-like things on top.

And the helmet is also very appealing in color, it's multicolored, like a rainbow.

"I have to admit, this is the first time I've ever used this helmet."

Mr. LeMay took the helmet from Dumbledore's hands, but he forgot how heavy it was. As he held it, there were two cracks, and his arms were broken by the helmet.

Then, the helmet fell to the ground with a clatter.

"I'm getting old." Mr. LeMay wasn't embarrassed at all; he stretched out his hands toward Dumbledore.

After Dumbledore had attached the arm to him, he instructed Dumbledore, "Young man, this is where you need to do your work—put this helmet on Harry's head."

Young man... what a fine young man.

However, to be fair, Dumbledore was indeed a young man in front of Mr. LeMay —not even a young man at all.

After all, Mr. LeMay was born in the 14th century, while Dumbledore was born in the 19th century, more than 500 years apart.

There are probably very few people in this world older than Mr. LeMay.

Dumbledore did as he was told and put the helmet on Harry's head. Mr. LeMay walked over to Harry and patted Harry on the shoulder.

"Relax, Harry," he reassured Harry. "Open your mind—turn Occlumency, this helmet can't detect anything..."

Harry did as instructed and had his Occlumency removed.

Mr. LeMay produced several wires from somewhere and laid them on each of the colored blocks of the helmet, according to their colors.

Then, the helmet began to vibrate and hum.

"Are you sure this helmet won't shake my brains?" Harry's voice was pleasantly pleasing, with a trembling quality.

"Don't worry, Harry," Mr. LeMay reassured Harry. "This is just testing your curse; it won't do you any harm."

Harry couldn't quite hear what Mr. LeMay was saying, but he chose to trust the expert.

It's just a medical check-up, nothing life-threatening.

Immediately afterwards, he began to regret it.

The vibration was so unbearable that he felt like his brain was about to be shaken out.

Fortunately, the tremors stopped after a while.

When Dumbledore helped him remove his helmet, Harry saw double.

He saw that Dumbledore had sixteen arms, which were more terrifying than the Naga.

"This doesn't seem like a small problem, Harry," Mr. LeMay said to Harry. "The curse amplifies all the negative emotions in your heart, such as the urge to kill, hatred for others, and so on. If you can't control your emotions, you will become terrible and eventually be consumed by negative emotions, turning into a killing machine."

"That serious?" Gellert asked dramatically, then sneered at Harry, "Looks like you're in trouble, Scarhead."

However, no one paid any attention to him.

"So, all I need to do is control my negative emotions?" After confirming, Veratia touched Harry's face and asked, "How are you feeling now? Is there anything wrong?"

"Not yet," Harry shrugged. "I feel great, there's nothing wrong with me at all."

"Could it be that the curse hasn't taken effect yet?" Veratia asked with concern.

"Impossible," Mr. LeMay said. "If the curse weren't working, I wouldn't be able to detect it."

After he finished speaking, the room fell silent.

Gellert opened his mouth, but no sound came out— Veratia had just sealed his mouth with Charms to prevent him from being noisy and annoying.

"Hey guys," Harry patted the armrest of his chair, "What's with that look on your faces? Like I'm about to die—look, I'm alive and well, aren't I? Why are you all drooling? A smile would be much better!"

Dumbledore sighed. He didn't think Harry would die, but he was worried that Harry would be affected by the curse and become like Voldemort.

Voldemort has already caused enough destruction; heaven knows what the Magical World will do if Harry, with his power, goes berserk.

Are you expecting Veratia to stop him?

Don't be ridiculous, that woman will only go crazy with her beloved little Harry.

Veratia was simply worried about Harry's health.

"I genuinely think I'm fine," Harry said, waving his hand. "Look, I admit the curse does have a tiny, insignificant effect, but it's not that big... I used to hate Voldemort a lot—right when Hagrid said he killed my parents—but after killing Voldemort a few times, I don't really hate him anymore... I should say, there's no one in this world I'd hate."

That's true, Harry has always had a good mindset.

In addition, given his current extraordinary strength, there are few people or things in this world that he can find repulsive.

As for Voldemort?

Why would he be bothered by something that isn't even a rival?

"Is that so?" Mr. LeMay nodded and said, "There are indeed exceptions to such curses. For those with evil intentions, it is indeed a very troublesome curse—but for a kind-hearted and broad-minded person, the curse is not much different from having no curse at all."

"In conclusion," Mr. LeMay concluded, "You don't need to worry too much; at least I think it's quite optimistic."

"Harry," Veratia knelt down beside Harry and earnestly instructed, "No matter what, you are never allowed to use the Unforgivable Curse again, understand?"

Seeing Veratia's serious look, Harry could only nod in agreement.

"Uh, okay," he nodded.

Dumbledore's brow twitched.

The Unforgivable Curse is forbidden from being used again.

That means you've used it quite a lot before...

In the end, Dumbledore could only sigh and shake his head.

He still had faith in Harry and was willing to believe that the curse would not have a negative impact on Harry.

(End of this chapter)