Endgame

"Mr. Loctis!"

Harry cried out in delight.

Quirrell's face, meanwhile, was filled with terror. "Master, that's Greengrass's Raven. He's here!"

Sure enough, as soon as he spoke, Raven landed on the shoulder of a black-robed figure. Looking closer, there were also two young witches and wizards following behind him.

Harry finally relaxed. Looking at Sagreles and his two companions, he nearly burst into tears, but he ultimately held them back because Sagreles gave him a reassuring look.

"Voldemort..." Sagreles rolled the name around in his mouth, looking at that face with an almost-smile. "How had you fallen so low? Stealing things from children..."

He reached out and took the Philosopher's Stone from Raven's beak, examining it repeatedly in his hand.

No wonder Voldemort had not cared about Quirrell's foolish behavior. He had been hiding right beneath everyone's noses.

He had watched all of Quirrell's actions without ever stopping him. The more obvious Quirrell was, the safer he was. After all, who would have thought that the obviously suspicious Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Voldemort himself?

Sagreles looked at that face with a complicated expression, a trace of disappointment inevitably flashing through his eyes.

Voldemort's expression shifted uncertainly. He ignored the mockery in Sagreles's tone and spoke slowly after a moment of silence. "Sagreles, I know you... Your father was once my most loyal subordinate. We should never have become enemies..."

The three young witches and wizards froze at Voldemort's words. Professor Greengrass's father had been Voldemort's follower? Then what about he himself...? The three did not dare think any further, but fortunately, Sagreles's next words dispelled their doubts.

"Yes, and not just him..." Sagreles smiled carelessly. "Many members of the Greengrass family once followed in your footsteps. They're all still in Azkaban now..."

"I know. I know it all. It is a sad truth..." Voldemort coaxed. "Give me the Philosopher's Stone... Once I regain my strength, rescuing them will be no difficult matter..."

"Rescue them?" Sagreles said in surprise. "Why would I rescue them? I personally sent some of them there!"

Both Voldemort and the young witches and wizards were stunned, but Sagreles continued. "After all, your pure-blood ideals are complete rubbish... You do not understand that only constant mutation, fusion, and innovation can keep magical civilization from becoming a living fossil... Your view of magic is backward. It will never amount to anything..."

"Shut up, you filthy mongrel!" Voldemort finally lost control of his anger upon hearing this. His twisted expression made all three young witches and wizards take a step back at once. "The rule of pure-blood wizards is destiny! How could a mongrel stray like you understand the power of blood?"

Expressionless, Sagreles handed the Philosopher's Stone to Hermione behind him and drew his wand. "Is that so? Then you should not have knelt in the forest to drink Unicorn blood..."

He slowly descended the steps, approaching his opponent one step at a time. Voldemort, meanwhile, quietly backed away.

"Magic never cares about your surname. You should have understood that when you were surviving in the forest on snakes and rats," Sagreles said calmly.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A shrill green light shot toward him like lightning.

Sagreles did not dodge. He merely flicked his wand, and a pale bird of flame flew from its tip, crashing head-on into the incoming Killing Curse.

In an instant, the green light vanished without a trace.

"Very good. At least you still have the courage to raise your wand against me." He nodded at Voldemort. "Though the power is rather disappointing, I can already see a trace of the Dark Lord."

"Flying Sand and Rolling Stones!"

Voldemort continued casting, but Sagreles lightly swung his wand again, instantly dispelling the black spell-light.

"Still not enough." He shook his head and frowned, his tone full of scrutiny. "If this is all you have, then I fear you will not escape death today."

"Crucio!"

This time, the red spell-light twisted like a snake and struck Sagreles precisely, yet it still failed to halt his calm, resolute steps.

"Heh, the Cruciatus Curse..." He laughed soundlessly, his voice filled with contempt. "I experienced that trick when I was five. Frankly speaking, even my mother cast it with greater power than you!"

Voldemort was driven into a corner with nowhere left to retreat. In desperation, he violently swung his wand, and a raging dark-red flame rose into the air, transforming in the blink of an eye into a menacing giant serpent of fire.

"Not bad. Very skillful Fiendfyre..." Sagreles raised a brow. "Now this is finally getting interesting."

Hermione's eyes widened in the distance. "Fiendfyre!"

The other two young witches and wizards could not help asking, "Is it powerful?"

"Of course!" Hermione replied. "Fiendfyre is an extremely difficult magical flame to control. It possesses a will of its own and is known as the hellfire that can burn everything..."

The young witches and wizards showed worried expressions. Yet Sagreles remained calm, never stopping his advance from beginning to end.

"Yes, Fiendfyre—the fire of destruction. As it happens, I have studied this spell quite extensively as well..." Sagreles walked openly toward the roaring giant serpent of flame. "Today, let us see who will suffer the consequences in this contest of fire!"

With that, he stepped straight into the Fiendfyre Voldemort had released, but the expected horrific scene did not occur.

Sagreles passed unharmed through the sea of fire. The fierce dark-red fire serpent turned into a pale flaming bird the instant it touched him, then immediately wheeled around and lunged straight at Voldemort.

Voldemort hurriedly cast a counterspell. Sagreles recognized it as an exquisite spell combining Finite Incantatem, the Freezing Charm, Aguamenti, and an advanced Transfiguration Spell. The white flaming bird was ultimately held firmly before Voldemort and gradually dissipated.

"Worthy indeed of the Dark Lord!" Sagreles praised without changing expression, though his eyes held undisguised mockery and ridicule.

"Then—Firestorm!"

Voldemort's expression changed drastically. The faint complacency he had just revealed was instantly replaced by terror. The flaming bird he had painstakingly tamed transformed under Sagreles's spell into a violent mass of fire, completely engulfing him.

"Ahh—"

Along with a heart-rending scream, Quirrell's voice came from within the flames.

"Sagreles... Please spare my life. I truly had no choice..." Quirrell wailed and begged.

Sagreles remained unmoved. He merely waved his hand lightly, and the pale flames receded like a tide, revealing a battered figure curled up on the ground.

"Ah, Sagreles, save me..." Quirrell kept crying. "From beginning to end, I had no control over myself. Voldemort controlled me. I wanted to confess the truth to you, but I never found the chance..."

Sagreles stood silently, his gaze sharp as fire, saying nothing.

"At first, I only wanted to learn a few powerful spells from him, then find an opportunity to report him. But Voldemort took the chance to seize control of my body... By the time I wanted to resist, I realized I was powerless... Everything I did afterward was only to make you notice the abnormalities in me, yet every one of you turned a blind eye..."

"Sagreles, help me... Give me another chance. Even if I have to go to Azkaban, even if I have to face Dementors..."

Shhk—

A fierce, silent Cutting Curse flashed across the back of Quirrell's head. By the time he reacted, the entire face had already been cleanly cut away by the spell.

Yet Sagreles's tightly furrowed brow did not relax, because although blood was pouring from the wound, Voldemort's face remained firmly stuck to the back of Quirrell's head.

"Flesh Stripping!"

Sagreles continued casting on Quirrell. This was another terrifying use of the spell—to forcibly separate a person's flesh from their soul.

"Ahh—"

Quirrell immediately let out an even more piercing scream, but this time, Voldemort, who had been playing dead, could no longer avoid it. He was forcibly stripped from the back of Quirrell's head.

"You will all die!" the mangled face suddenly spoke.

Before falling away, it frantically devoured Quirrell's flesh and soul. In almost an instant, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was completely consumed, leaving behind only a broken shell of a body, like a scarecrow stripped of its clothing and exposed before everyone.

The fallen Voldemort face suddenly contracted, as if gathering strength, and then a horrifying explosion swept through the room.

In an instant, smoke and dust filled the air, followed by a long silence.

A silent "Whirlwind Sweep" cleared away all the dust. Once Sagreles saw the empty room clearly, he slowly lowered his wand, revealing the young witches and wizards and Quirrell behind the protective spell.

The latter, however, had clearly reached the end of his life. Voldemort had drained nearly all his magic, flesh, and soul. What remained was little more than a half-dead corpse, ready to draw its last breath at any moment.

"Where is Voldemort? Is he dead?" Quirrell asked with the last of his strength.

"No. He escaped," Sagreles answered expressionlessly.

The young witches and wizards could not help feeling a familiar sensation at those words, as though they had seen this scene somewhere before.

Thinking back carefully, they realized it was exactly like the conversation between Villis and the Centaur Leon after she had driven Voldemort away in the Forbidden Forest.