Voldemort Loses It, Time to Reap the Rewards!

"Shameless! This is utterly shameless!"

"Quirrell" cursed through gritted teeth.

Charle tilted his head and asked with an innocent look of curiosity.

"Professor, why do you hate him so much?"

"Who are you calling shameless?"

"Quirrell" stiffened, forcing out a smile as he ground out each word.

"I mean the mysterious person who plagiarized Headmaster Dumbledore's magic. He is utterly shameless!"

"Stealing the fruits of someone else's magical research is the most despised thing in the Wizarding World!"

Charle nodded in wholehearted agreement.

"Right? That's what I think too."

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me that the mysterious person became famous for the Killing Curse, claiming he had developed it from runes, but that wasn't true at all."

"The Headmaster said he had developed the Killing Curse long ago, but because it was too cruel, he only wrote it down in his notes. Then the mysterious person stole it and made it his signature."

Voldemort, occupying Quirrell's body, froze as though he had fallen into some sort of confusion.

Then Charle dropped another bombshell.

"The Headmaster also said that the mysterious person stole his Transfiguration from him, and only learned the surface of it."

"Back then, the mysterious person wanted to complete a Transfiguration called Accio and turn into a giant snake, but something went wrong. It was Headmaster Dumbledore who stepped in and turned him back."

"The reason the mysterious person lost his nose was a side effect of that Accio transformation. The Headmaster kept shaking his head when he mentioned it, saying that if he'd known, he wouldn't have saved the mysterious person back then. He should have let him eat rats until he died."

Voldemort's face turned green, then purple.

He had never imagined he would hear something like this from Charle.

That sinister, treacherous old bumblebee Dumbledore had actually been slandering him behind his back like this?

The Killing Curse was clearly an achievement he was proud of. Since when had it become Dumbledore's?

And the reason he had no nose was entirely intentional, all right? It was merely an insignificant price paid for Dark Transfiguration. How had it become a failed transformation, followed by Dumbledore rescuing him?

Rumors. They were all fucking rumors meant to smear him!

That old bumblebee Dumbledore—just how many rumors had he spread during all these years of Voldemort's disappearance?

Yet after his fury subsided, Voldemort still felt a trace of doubt.

He certainly did not think Dumbledore was some saint, but could Dumbledore's character really be so low?

Could this little wizard Charle be making it all up?

The next moment, a glimmer flashed through Voldemort's eyes.

This was an inborn ability of his, similar to Legilimency. After constant refinement and Dark Transfiguration, it had reached its peak, allowing him to distinguish almost any lie.

Among Death Eaters, lying before the Black Magic Lord was universally acknowledged to be impossible.

Even with only this fragment of his soul remaining, Voldemort could still use this ability.

He wanted to see whether Charle was telling the truth.

At the same time, Deep Blue's voice rang out in Charle's mind.

The host has obtained Legilimency magical material. The points required to deduce the Legilimency spell will be greatly reduced.

A strange gleam also flashed through Charle's eyes.

If Deep Blue said so, then Voldemort must be absolutely furious by now, right?

Legilimency that was practically an innate instinct—no one could lie before the Black Magic Lord?

But what if he was not lying?

After considering it for a moment, Charle began stoking the flames again.

"In Headmaster Dumbledore's heart, he has only one true opponent and nemesis: Grindelwald!"

"To Dumbledore, what is this mysterious person? He is not worth a single hair on Grindelwald's head."

"The only person Dumbledore considers worthy of being called the Black Magic Lord is Grindelwald!"

The moment those words fell, Voldemort, who was using his innate talent to judge whether Charle was lying, went completely still.

It was true. He could sense it. Everything Charle had said was true.

If those earlier words had merely enraged Voldemort and made him feel that the old bumblebee Dumbledore was increasingly shameless—

Then these few sentences shattered him completely.

He had never imagined that while he regarded Dumbledore as his greatest opponent, Dumbledore considered him, the Black Magic Lord who had wrought catastrophe, to be nothing at all—less than that defeated, washed-up Grindelwald?

Why?

Did that not make him look like a clown?

"Dumbledore..."

Voldemort let out wave after wave of furious roars in his heart.

"You will pay for those words!!!"

Then, as though he had made some decision, his gaze turned even colder as he looked at Charle.

"Charle, Dumbledore's magic is certainly powerful, but I have traveled the Wizarding World for many years and acquired some mysterious, powerful magic. It may not be inferior to Dumbledore's."

"Come to my office after term begins. I will teach you all of it."

"Believe me. Once you cast it, I guarantee even Headmaster Dumbledore will be shocked!"

Charle raised an eyebrow, looking doubtful.

"Really?"

"All right, Professor. I'll give you a chance."

Voldemort took a deep breath and turned away into the shadows.

He returned the body to Quirrell. Once Quirrell regained control, his face turned pale as paper, and he asked tremblingly,

"Master, are you truly going to teach Charle magic?"

Voldemort's voice, filled with boundless rage, echoed through his soul.

"I originally only intended to use Charle as a pawn, to exploit his desire for power and see whether he could be useful."

"But now, I have changed my mind."

"That damned old fool Dumbledore—I will make him understand the price of thoroughly enraging me!"

"I will use Charle to prove that Dumbledore's outdated magic is worthless compared to mine. I will make Charle embrace the darkness completely and strike hard at Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix."

Voldemort's voice was chilling.

"Doesn't Dumbledore have his Boy Who Lived?"

"Perfect. I hear this Charle has recently been called another Boy Who Lived as well. In that case, he will belong to me!"

Then Voldemort urged Quirrell.

"Get ready. I need to break into Gringotts as soon as possible and obtain the Philosopher's Stone to restore my body."

"I have had enough of this existence."

"Once I restore my body, I will make Dumbledore feel fear. I will make this Charle crawl at my feet!"

Watching Quirrell's figure disappear into the distance, Charle's taut body gradually relaxed, and he let out a long breath.

It had to be said that although Charle had successfully provoked Voldemort into losing it through his knowledge of the plot, gaining the chance to study Voldemort's profound dark magic at Hogwarts—

The enraged Voldemort had still put immense pressure on him.

If they had truly fought and the magic Charle had at hand failed to work immediately, he would probably have had no choice but to flee using Apparition.

All he could say was that his current strength was still quite far from Dumbledore and Voldemort's level.

To others, that was only natural.

After all, Dumbledore and Voldemort stood at the pinnacle of the Wizarding World. For a little wizard like Charle to want to compete with them in strength was simply madness.

But a cold glint appeared in Charle's eyes.

He did not like this feeling of being oppressed.

And perhaps for him, an impassable gulf for ordinary people required only a single night to cross.

After taking a deep breath, Charle quickened his pace and returned to the Leaky Cauldron with Tonks.

Clatter, clatter. Charle poured out an entire bag of spoils, his expression gradually turning fervent.

These were the gains from raiding Knockturn Alley tonight.

If he digested all of them, he would complete the third deduction of Transfiguration.

He could not say he would be a match for Voldemort at his peak, but against the Voldemort possessing Quirrell, Charle might just be able to test himself against him!

The next moment, Charle grabbed a bottle of Acromantula Venom and gulped it down.

"Deep Blue, dinner's ready!"