A Battle Brought Far Too Soon!

"Harry~Potter! Which one of you is Harry~Potter?"

A dark, damp, chillingly strange voice rang out. The fallen Quirrell turned into a cloud of black smoke just before Hagrid could pounce on him, flying aside to snatch up the Alder Wand that had been flung into a crack between the rubble.

Hagrid crashed awkwardly onto a massive boulder, shattering it beneath him and baring his teeth in pain.

Dudley's face darkened. Voldemort had moved too fast, and the wand had not been affected by Accio. He had not had time to retrieve it.

At that moment, the black smoke clutching the wand had already resumed its form atop another boulder.

It was still a black-clad figure in black robes, but unlike before, the figure now had its back to them, even holding the wand reversed in its right hand.

Even stranger, the hood at the back of the figure's head had torn open into a neat oval hole, revealing a hairless, grotesque face with scarlet eyes, no nose tip, shriveled lips, and bluish skin. It was revolting.

Dudley, who knew the original story well, recognized it at once. This was the back of Quirrell's head—and the current appearance of Voldemort's Main Soul.

"Roaaar—"

The Fire Dragons roared as Gringotts' Goblins finally arrived at the battlefield.

"Drop your weapons! Surrender at once! You are surrounded!"

A Goblin riding on a Fire Dragon used magic similar to Sonorus to amplify his voice and warn the intruder.

At the same time, all three Fire Dragons breathed out flames in unison, creating an imposing display.

"You're making too much noise!"

The hideous face let out a piercing shriek and casually waved Quirrell's wand without turning around.

An immense blue fire filled with malice appeared at once, forming a tidal wave of flames in an instant and surging toward the hovering Fire Dragons and Goblins.

"Shit! It's Fiendfyre!"

The Goblins shouted as they retreated, raising their hands to fire yellow rays in an attempt to block the Fiendfyre's advance, but with little effect.

The Fiendfyre burned ever more fiercely, rapidly gathering into a gigantic blue-flamed serpent.

The serpent opened its jaws, bared fiery fangs, and lunged at the Goblins.

"Good. Now there's no one in our way to interrupt us!"

Quirrell retreated while Voldemort advanced, his posture strange yet intimidating. "Tell me, which one of you is Harry~Potter!"

"Y-you're You-Know-Who... Volde...mort?!"

Hagrid's voice trembled. Even for a half-blood Giant, that name cast an enormous shadow.

"Tell me, you big idiot!"

Voldemort roared. His condition was far from good. He cursed Quirrell as useless, yet failed to notice that his own mind had become somewhat muddled as well.

His hatred for Harry had overwhelmed part of his reason. At that moment, he did not think to kill immediately, nor did he hurry to seize the Philosopher's Stone. He only wanted to capture the enemy foretold to oppose him for life and torture him properly.

Faced with Voldemort's approach, Hagrid realized that, in his anger, he had said more than he should have. He immediately fell silent.

"Calm down! Calm down!"

Somewhere behind Hagrid, Harry ignored the tense standoff. Sticking to Dudley's original battle plan, he stretched out both hands and cast Calm Mind from afar at Voldemort.

A strange power gradually reached Voldemort's current body, and an unprompted sense of calm arose within him.

But Voldemort's malice and madness were far beyond what Harry could affect at this point. In less than a second, Voldemort broke free of Calm Mind's influence.

"So it was you who affected my servant's mind just now! Fine Wandless Casting! With talent like that, you must be Har—"

"Sandstorm!"

Dudley, hidden behind a massive rock, suddenly launched an attack on Voldemort. Diggle's Wand in his hand shone blue as a magical sand-and-stone cyclone swept up shattered rocks from the ground and surged toward the ugly figure, who looked somewhat frail against the backdrop of towering blue flames.

As Dudley poured powerful magic into his wand, continuously stirring up a sky full of sand and stones, he shouted, "Moron! I'm Harry!"

It was not that he had not wanted to cast a spell sooner and deny Voldemort the chance to ramble. Rather, a powerful white-magic spell like Sandstorm, which was somewhat difficult to cast, required a period of familiarity and practice before it could be used.

After all, Dudley had never systematically studied Charms. Relying solely on cramming books and blindly practicing during his Muggle years, being able to successfully cast the spell so quickly was already largely thanks to the immense magical talent he had gained after merging with the Philosopher's Stone.

"Another genius!" Voldemort's voice suddenly sounded beside Dudley's ear. "You're Harry~Potter...'s cousin, aren't you?"

Dudley shuddered. At some point, Voldemort had once again transformed Quirrell's body into black smoke, slipped through the gaps in Sandstorm, and flashed to his side.

He hurriedly threw a straight punch.

Unfortunately, the spell Voldemort unleashed by burning through Quirrell's life force was faster.

"Cruciatus Curse!"

The merciless Cruciatus Curse struck Dudley. With one hand holding his wand and the other throwing a punch, he was sent flying back in agony, crashing into a pile of rubble as the Sandstorm spell dissipated.

Dudley had not touched Voldemort—or rather, Quirrell's body—and the Cruciatus Curse was not an instant-kill attack.

The Weakened Mother's Love Protection on him did not activate.

"Cousin—"

Seeing his cousin struck by the spell and sent flying, Harry could no longer remain calm and cried out anxiously.

Now, his identity could no longer be concealed.

Harry wanted to rush over to check Dudley's injuries, but Hagrid strode over and stopped him, shielding him firmly behind his back.

"Big idiot! You're still as stupid as ever! The secrets in your heart either show on your face or spill out of your mouth.

When I was speaking just now, that anxious little expression and those furtive glances behind you told me everything!

Thinking back, when I framed you, you big fool, I nearly got so sick of your stupidity that it ruined everything. Those were truly memorable days!"

Voldemort advanced step by step toward Hagrid and Harry, each word chilling Hagrid to the bone.

"Y-you... it was you back then?!" Hagrid's mouth fell open. "Right, I should have known. Other than you, no one could be so evil!"

"Hahahaha! Big idiot! Get out of my way! Stop trying to make me laugh with that stupid face of yours!"

Voldemort laughed wildly, like a great villain whose wish was about to come true.

Feeling wrinkles and spots gradually appear on his face—that is, on the back of Quirrell's head—he stopped wasting time and cast another spell. "Diffindo!"

Hagrid's red-and-yellow striped coat, along with the shirt beneath it, instantly tore into strips of rags. A heap of odds and ends fell out, including the Fake Philosopher's Stone wrapped in kraft paper and twine.

"Hahahahaha—"

Voldemort let out another crazed, sinister laugh. With a flick of his wand, the small paper package flew into Quirrell's now-aged hand.

"That belongs to Dumbledore! Ah—give it back!"

Hagrid, his upper clothes torn apart, let out an incomparably furious roar. His rage even eclipsed his fear of Voldemort, and the Umbrella Wand clenched in his large hand immediately emitted a dazzling white light.

Yet with a light flick of his wand, Voldemort deflected Hagrid's Transfiguration Spell with an invisible barrier, sending it into a stalactite nearby.

The stalactite immediately became a dead rat covered in festering sores.

"Reducto!"

As Voldemort diverted Hagrid's Transfiguration Spell, he followed up with another attack.

Hagrid's huge body was blasted away by an explosive force, crashing heavily to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds.

In the distance, Dudley had finally endured the bone-deep agony inflicted by the Cruciatus Curse through the unyielding will forged over two lifetimes.

Just as he regained his senses, he saw the tip of Voldemort's wand light up once more with the glow of the Cruciatus Curse—and this time, the target was his cousin.

"No—"

Dudley let out an enraged roar. He knew Mother's Love Protection would not work against the Cruciatus Curse, and his emotions violently surged.

Amid overwhelming rage and unwillingness, an incomparably powerful golden magic burst from Dudley's body, instantly sweeping over Voldemort, who was about to attack Harry, and the vast space around them.

This time, his magic truly went out of control!