Chapter 102. Lord Voldemort
Lord Voldemort let out a chilling laugh when he heard his name spoken by Harry.
"Seems you know me."
Then, without an incantation, he flicked his wand carelessly, and two spells struck the two people beside Harry in an instant.
"Hermione! Ron!"
Harry hurriedly looked at them and found that Hermione and Ron had already collapsed limply to the floor, motionless.
"What did you do to them!?" Harry's voice was hoarse, a blaze of fury seeming to catch in his green eyes.
He glared at Lord Voldemort, his hand clamped tightly around his wand.
However, Lord Voldemort did not answer.
He merely gave his wand a casual wave, and Harry's wand flew out of his hand, spinning away to one side.
"How pathetic, sir," Voldemort's icy voice sounded. "Do you think you can stand against me?"
Harry stood where he was, his chest heaving; Hermione and Ron lay at his feet, their life or death unknown.
Lord Voldemort walked unhurriedly to the Mirror of Erised, then levelled his wand at Harry.
Harry felt an invisible force seize his throat and hoist him into the air.
"Look, Potter," Voldemort gave his wand a light flick, and Harry's body was flung violently before the Mirror of Erised, "for tonight only, your arrival is truly welcome news."
Harry barely managed to keep his feet before the mirror, his face almost pressed to the cold glass.
He struggled to step back, but his feet seemed nailed to the spot.
The scene in the mirror gradually clarified. He saw himself holding a blood-red stone in his hand.
Needless to say, that had to be the Philosopher's Stone.
Next, the Harry inside the mirror slyly winked at him and slipped the stone into his trouser pocket.
And the Harry in reality immediately felt the right pocket of his trousers grow heavy.
The Philosopher's Stone had truly appeared in his pocket!
Such a sight did not escape Lord Voldemort's notice.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Potter—"
Voldemort's rasping voice was close at hand, and Harry suddenly felt that coming here tonight might have been a mistake.
Then Voldemort swung his wand in a broad arc; a curse shot out and struck Harry squarely.
Harry felt as though a huge weight had slammed into him.
He was flung several metres—and as he flew, the Philosopher's Stone slid from his pocket and fell beside the unconscious Ron.
Lord Voldemort walked slowly to where the stone lay. With his crack-marred hand, he lifted the blood-red stone, fingers trembling, pupils contracting with mad delight.
Then he gave a near-deranged laugh. "At last… the Philosopher's Stone… I'm back!"
At the same time, Harry pushed himself up with difficulty, blood seeping at the corner of his mouth.
In his hand he held a small, charred tag—an amulet Adrian Wesson had given him earlier.
It was precisely this amulet that had warded off Voldemort's previous spell.
Voldemort came back to himself, saw Harry crawling up from the floor, and looked unexpectedly surprised.
"Ah, you can still get up…" He laughed and looked at Harry. "Let me think—what magic shall I use to finish you? Or you could choose to kneel and beg for my mercy. You wouldn't want to end up like your parents, would you? They begged me for their lives before they died."
Voldemort raised his crack-riddled arm; green light glimmered at the tip of his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
In Harry's despairing gaze, a jet of green light shot from Voldemort's wand.
However, the deadly curse did not strike Harry; instead, it hit the floor beside him, blasting a large hole.
It was Ron and Hermione!
The instant Voldemort loosed the spell, the previously unconscious Ron and Hermione sprang from the ground,
hurled themselves at Voldemort, and forced his aim wide.
"You—" Voldemort stumbled back two steps in haste.
Harry keenly noticed that each time Voldemort cast a spell, new cracks appeared on his body—or rather, on Quirrell's body.
And now Voldemort's host was already covered, dense with cracks.
Seizing the moment as Voldemort retreated, Hermione and Ron dashed to Harry's side.
"Run!" Hermione yelled, tugging Harry's sleeve.
Harry did not immediately turn to flee; instead, he pulled Gulu from his pocket and hurled him at Voldemort.
He knew Voldemort would not let them escape so easily.
Gulu flew to Voldemort's front, instantly grew to about Harry's height, and bared sharp simian fangs.
Seeing this, Voldemort gave a cold sneer. "Useless."
"Avada Kedavra!"
Another jet of green light—this time aimed at Gulu.
At the instant the curse was about to hit him, Gulu shrank his body, and the green light skimmed past his head.
Seeing such a close shave, Harry couldn't help letting out a breath.
Voldemort had meant to cast again.
However, the Killing Curse placed a heavy burden on this body. He looked at the cracks webbing his form and knew he could not hold out much longer.
What's more, he had already wasted too much time; when he used the Killing Curse, Albus Dumbledore would surely sense it—he might appear the next second.
In this state, he could not defeat Dumbledore.
No—he had to leave at once.
After all, the Philosopher's Stone was already in hand.
Voldemort's body suddenly rose into the air, black robes snapping behind him, and he flew toward the entrance behind the three.
"He's running!"
Harry cried out.
As Voldemort tried to pass him, Harry mustered his courage and sprang forward to block his way.
To the astonishment of all three, the moment Voldemort came within touching distance of Harry, his body convulsed violently and he let out a heart-rending scream.
He fell like a puppet with its strings cut, crashing to the ground; the Philosopher's Stone rolled from his fingers and clinked across the floor.
Harry was stunned.
Yet Voldemort was not defeated. He quickly pushed himself up again and looked at Harry coldly. "What did you do!?"
Harry said nothing—because he hadn't done anything at all.
From his point of view, Voldemort had simply flown up to him, screamed, and then fallen.
"Dumbledore will be here any moment!" Hermione said bravely from the side.
"Stopping me was not a wise choice," Voldemort muttered, gripping his wand and pointing it at the three. "Though this body won't last long, snuffing out the three of you will be no trouble."
At Voldemort's words, cold sweat broke out on all three.
Now it was truly a matter of life and death.
"Avada—"
Voldemort had uttered only half the incantation when a red jet of light shot from behind the trio, aimed straight at him.
At the same time, Gulu opened his mouth wide and launched himself at Voldemort's head.
This forced Voldemort to break off the spell and twist aside, dodging both the incoming curse and Gulu.
Like this story Leave a review ; it would really help me out a lot.
Want to Read Ahead in Advance?
Join my Patreon!
+75 Chapters
Support me in
Patreon.com/BestElysium