I'm Back

At this moment, a delicate and dangerous three-way standoff formed within the chamber:

On one side stood Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape.

On another side were the dark silhouette of Voldemort's true body and the collapsed Quirrell.

On the last side was Caesar, grievously wounded and clutching the Philosopher's Stone, along with Hermione, who stood before him, her magic heavily drained yet stubbornly maintaining a defensive barrier.

They were the weakest, but the Philosopher's Stone was in their hands.

As Dumbledore's appearance drew the vast majority of Voldemort's attention and attacks, Snape's spells also began to restrain the dark silhouette.

A flash of resolve flickered in Hermione's eyes.

She couldn't stay here and become a target, nor could she hand the Philosopher's Stone to either side—at least not yet, or at least not before she could ensure his survival.

She quickly turned back and whispered to Caesar, her words rapid: "Follow me. Don't make a sound. Don't use magic."

Caesar looked at her, his gaze still complicated and unreadable, suddenly feeling as though he had shifted from being a brother and teacher to a student and younger brother, but he nodded.

Or rather, he barely had the strength left to nod.

Hermione's left hand continued maintaining the shrinking silver barrier, guarding against stray attacks and the residual shockwaves from Voldemort.

Her right hand swiftly traced a few symbols in the air with her wand, while her feet lightly stepped in place.

During the day, under the guise of "practicing ancient runic arrays" and "preparing advanced Potions materials,"

she had secretly set up small concealment arrays, volatile points for perception-confusing potions, and short-range directional trigger runes along key paths in the castle and near this area.

Now, they were all activated at once!

A faint, nearly invisible mist spread from beneath her feet and several points around them.

It carried the distinctive scent of potions, capable of interfering with magical tracking and visual perception.

Under the cover of this mist and the silver glow, hers and Caesar's figures began to blur, distort, as if merging into the background.

At the same time, a faint magical array, just large enough for two people to stand on, lit up beneath her feet—a short-range teleportation point leading to a hidden evacuation spot outside the castle she had calculated long ago.

Though the distance wasn't far and it required time to stabilize, it was enough to pull them out of this direct battlefield.

Caesar watched as Hermione methodically activated these preparations, and within the complex glimmer in his eyes, a trace of genuine, almost gratified smile finally emerged.

This was exactly the feeling he wanted!

A partner smart enough, strong enough, capable of independent planning, decisive execution, and even carving out a path to survival in a desperate situation.

All those years of pouring resources into guiding and nurturing her hadn't been wasted. She had truly grown, even beyond his expectations.

But then...

Just as the teleportation light grew brighter and it seemed they might actually escape this chaotic multi-sided melee, Caesar's gaze passed over Hermione's shoulder, landing on Voldemort's dark silhouette, locked in combat with Dumbledore's silent spells

and further enraged by Snape's binding curses, as well as McGonagall, who, though furious, had to cooperate with Dumbledore against the greater threat.

Finally, his gaze seemed to pierce through the stone walls, looking toward the ancient castle slumbering around them.

He couldn't just leave like this.

If he did, he and Hermione would forever bear the labels of traitors, thieves, and Dark wizard accomplices, hunted and pursued by the entire magical world.

More importantly, his goal was not yet fully achieved.

The actors in this play had only just taken their positions.

Hogwarts had not yet been "destroyed."

In the instant before the teleportation array stabilized, Caesar's body seemed to sway slightly, as if from the severity of his injuries.

His right hand, which had been tightly gripping the Philosopher's Stone, loosened its hold by an imperceptible margin.

The deep red gem's emitted light flickered with an extremely subtle, unnatural fluctuation.

The fluctuation was so faint it was nearly undetectable, but everyone present was among the most elite wizards, especially Voldemort, whose craving for the Philosopher's Stone's power was absolute!

"An opening!" The dark silhouette let out a gleeful, hissing shriek.

Ignoring a sharp silver spell from Dumbledore that grazed past, carrying away part of its dark mist, and temporarily enduring the pull of Snape's binding curse, it suddenly split off a stream of condensed, arrow-like dark energy, moving as if alive, slipping around the weakest corner of Hermione's silver barrier.

That corner happened to be the very opening Caesar had "unintentionally" revealed moments ago.

Without question, the dark silhouette struck Caesar's right wrist, the one holding the Philosopher's Stone, like lightning!

"Ugh—ah!" Caesar let out a truly pained grunt, the sound of bones cracking faintly audible from his wrist, his fingers involuntarily splaying open.

That radiant, legendary stone, brimming with endless tales, flew from his grasp, tracing a tempting red arc through the air.

Voldemort's dark silhouette erupted with all its power, whipping up a foul wind, and lunged instantly toward the falling gem!

Dumbledore's several intercepting spells and Snape's binding curses all landed at once, but they only tore away a larger portion of the dark silhouette, failing to stop its core, wrapped in greed and ecstasy, from seizing the Philosopher's Stone firmly!

Crimson light plunged into the surging darkness, and the next second, an immensely vast, ancient, and chaotic magical power erupted with a thunderous roar!

The black mist roiled violently, expanding and contracting as if undergoing some terrible reshaping and evolution.

Quirrell's collapsed body was completely drained dry, dissolving into ash.

A clearer, taller silhouette, radiating a suffocating aura of evil—a form forcibly fused from the Philosopher's Stone's boundless life force and Voldemort's dark will—gradually took shape within the churning magic!

Though far from perfect, it was already incomparable to his previous, feeble remnant soul state.

"I've succeeded... I'm back! Hahahaha!" The newborn body, bearing a stony sheen and a raw, fleshy texture, let out a hoarse, arrogant laugh.

His scarlet eyes immediately locked onto Caesar, who lay collapsed and barely breathing, his backlash worsened by the theft of the Philosopher's Stone.

"The first sacrifice—you!"

The reborn Voldemort raised his hand, and a condensed, emerald-green Killing Curse, amplified by the Philosopher's Stone, shot mercilessly toward the nearly immobile Caesar!

"No—!"

Hermione's scream tore through the air.

The teleportation was interrupted; she watched helplessly as the Philosopher's Stone was seized, as Caesar fell gravely wounded, as the deadly green light raced toward the last trace he had left in this world.

Everything happened too fast. Dumbledore's rescue spell was a beat too slow, Professor McGonagall's cry drowned out.

Just as the green light was about to touch Caesar's body.

No one expected it—Snape, who had been silently cooperating with Dumbledore, his face dark and grim.

Whether it was a miscalculation or some unspeakable impulse, he suddenly lunged forward, as if to block with his body or cast some spell.

Thud.

A soft sound of flesh being pierced.

The Killing Curse didn't hit Caesar, but by chance—or rather, by Voldemort's casually adjusted trajectory—it plunged directly into Snape's chest.

Snape's body stiffened, his expression frozen in extreme shock and a deeper, complex look of relief mingled with endless regret.

He staggered a step, his black robes pooling on the ground, the breath of life like a guttering candle, extinguished in an instant.

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice wavered for the first time, his aged face etched with shock and anguish.

Voldemort's new form glanced at the fallen Snape, as if he had merely crushed an annoying insect.

His scarlet eyes turned back to Caesar. "This time, no one's here to take it for you."