I'm Back

At that moment, a subtle and dangerous three-way standoff formed in the stone chamber:

On one side stood Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape.

On another were Voldemort's shadowy true form and Quirrell, collapsed on the floor.

On the third were Caesar, gravely wounded and clutching the Philosopher's Stone, and Hermione, standing in front of him. Though her magical reserves were nearly exhausted, she stubbornly maintained her defenses.

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

While Dumbledore's arrival drew most of Voldemort's attention and attacks, Snape's spells began to hold the shadow at bay.

A look of determination flashed in Hermione's eyes.

She couldn't stay here and become a target, nor could she hand the Philosopher's Stone to either side—not now, at least, and not until she had saved Caesar's life.

She quickly turned and whispered to Caesar, speaking rapidly. "Follow me. Don't say anything, and don't use magic."

Caesar looked at her, his expression still difficult to read. For a moment, he felt as if he had gone from being the older brother and teacher to the student and younger brother. But he nodded.

Or rather, he had almost no strength left to nod.

Hermione kept her left hand raised, maintaining the silver barrier at a smaller radius to guard against stray spells and the backlash of Voldemort's attacks.

With her right hand, she swiftly traced several symbols in the air before her, then lightly stamped her foot.

During the day, she had used "practicing Ancient Runes arrays" and "preparing advanced ingredients for Potions Class" as excuses.

She had secretly set up small concealment arrays along key paths in the castle and near this area, as well as points where perception-distorting potions would vaporize and trigger runes for short-range directional teleportation.

Now, she activated them all at once!

A faint, almost invisible mist spread from beneath her feet and from several spots around them.

It carried the distinctive scent of potions, designed to disrupt magical tracking and visual perception.

Under cover of the mist and silver light, Hermione and Caesar began to blur and distort, as if they were fading into the background.

At the same time, a small magic circle glimmered beneath her feet, just large enough for two people to stand on. It would take them to a secret evacuation point outside the castle that she had already calculated.

The distance was short, and the circle needed time to stabilize, but it would be enough to get them away from the immediate battlefield.

Caesar watched Hermione activate her preparations with calm precision. At last, a genuine, almost approving smile shone through the complicated glimmer in his eyes.

This was exactly what he wanted!

A partner clever and powerful enough to plan independently, act decisively, and even carve out a way to survive in the direst circumstances.

All those years of guidance and the resources he had poured into her hadn't been wasted. She had truly grown up—more than he had ever expected.

However...

Just as the light of the teleportation circle grew brighter, and it seemed they might really escape the mire of the chaotic battle for a while, Caesar looked past Hermione's shoulder at Voldemort's shadow, locked in a struggle against Dumbledore's Nonverbal Spells and driven into a furious frenzy by Snape's Binding Charm. His gaze then fell on McGonagall, her face contorted with anger as she was forced to help Dumbledore deal with the greatest threat first.

Finally, his gaze seemed to pierce the stone walls and reach the ancient castle, still asleep around them.

He couldn't leave just like that.

If he did, he and Hermione would forever bear the name of traitors, thieves, and accomplices to a dark wizard. The entire wizarding world would hunt them down.

More importantly, he still hadn't fully achieved his goal.

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

Hogwarts had yet to be "destroyed."

Just before the teleportation circle's light stabilized, Caesar's body seemed to sway slightly from the severity of his injuries.

The right hand gripping the Philosopher's Stone loosened almost imperceptibly.

The crimson gem's light gave an extremely faint, unnatural flicker.

The fluctuation was exceedingly slight, but those present were all top wizards—especially Voldemort, who craved the Philosopher's Stone's power above all else!

"An opening!" the shadow shrieked in delight.

Ignoring the fact that one of Dumbledore's fierce silver spells grazed him and tore away part of the black mist, he withstood the pull of Snape's Binding Charm for the moment.

A concentrated bolt of dark energy shot out like an arrow. As if alive, it slipped around the weakest corner of Hermione's silver barrier.

That was precisely where Caesar had "accidentally" left a tiny opening.

The shadow struck Caesar's right wrist—the one holding the Philosopher's Stone—with lightning speed!

"Gah—!" Caesar let out a genuinely pained groan. A faint crack sounded from his wrist, and his fingers sprang open against his will.

The Philosopher's Stone, shimmering with a rainbow of colors and steeped in endless legend, flew from his grasp, tracing a tempting red arc through the air.

Voldemort's shadow unleashed all its power, whipping up a foul wind as it lunged for the falling gem!

Dumbledore's barrage of restraining spells and Snape's Binding Charm struck at once.

But they only tore away a larger portion of the shadow. They failed to stop its core from seizing the Philosopher's Stone, greed and elation wrapped around it!

The crimson light disappeared into the churning darkness. The next second, an immense, ancient, and chaotic surge of magic erupted!

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

Quirrell's collapsed body was drained completely and crumbled to ash.

Amid the surging magic, the outline of a taller, clearer form gradually emerged—a body forged from the Philosopher's Stone's immense vitality and Voldemort's dark will, fused together by force. It radiated an evil so oppressive it seemed to suffocate everyone around it.

It was far from perfect, but nothing like the feeble remnant he had been before.

"I did it... I'm back! Hahahaha!" The newly formed body, with its stony sheen and raw, bloody appearance, let out a hoarse, arrogant laugh.

Its scarlet eyes immediately fixed on Caesar, who had collapsed on the floor, dying as the Philosopher's Stone's loss worsened the backlash.

"You'll be my first sacrifice!"

The reborn Voldemort raised a hand and fired a Killing Curse, intensified by the Philosopher's Stone and concentrated to a deadly point, straight at Caesar, who could barely move!

"No!"

Hermione's scream tore through the air.

The teleportation had been interrupted. She could only watch as the Philosopher's Stone was taken, Caesar was left gravely wounded on the ground, and that fatal green light shot toward the last trace of him in this world.

It all happened too fast. Dumbledore's rescue spell came a moment too late, and Professor McGonagall's cry of alarm was drowned out.

Just as the green light was about to touch Caesar—

No one could have imagined that Snape, who had remained silent and helped Dumbledore, his face dark with fury, would suddenly step forward.

Whether he had misjudged the situation or acted on some impulse he could not explain, he seemed to try to block the spell with his body or cast one of his own.

Squish.

A faint sound—the sound of flesh being pierced.

The Killing Curse missed Caesar, but by sheer chance—or because Voldemort casually altered its course—it plunged directly into Snape's chest.

Snape's body stiffened. His expression froze in utter shock, mingled with something deeper: a complex look that seemed to hold both relief at last being free and boundless regret.

He staggered a step and crumpled to the floor, his black robes spreading around him. The breath of life went out of him in an instant, like a candle snuffed by the wind.

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice wavered for the first time. Shock and grief were written across his aged face.

Voldemort's new body 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 going to take the hit for you."