"Villain?"
Voldemort seemed far more offended by that word than by any clumsy, made-up organization name. "I am a pioneer—a great being destined to bring about transformation."
"'Villain' is what others call us. The ignorant masses can't comprehend our noble ideals. We call ourselves villains only to mock their mediocrity."
Dio Brando wagged a finger at him. "Your thinking still needs work."
"Oh, and by the way, that invitation only means you've caught my attention. You're not qualified just yet. Until you're properly resurrected, make sure you keep that letter safe. If you lose it or destroy it, I can't guarantee you'll get another chance."
After handing over the so-called invitation, Dio Brando acted like his business was done. He placed his top hat back on and turned to leave.
But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. Though his lower body had already turned away, his upper body twisted back unnaturally to look at Voldemort.
The grotesque motion made even Voldemort's heart skip a beat.
"Oh right, let me offer you some advice—as an investor." Dio Brando slowly reached for his mask. "You want to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Not a bad idea… but clearly someone more clever than you already thought of it first."
"You won't succeed. The Stone is no longer in Gringotts."
With those final words, he fully removed his mask—revealing a massive red eyeball that took up his entire face.
Voldemort nearly dropped Quirrell's wand. He reflexively stepped back.
"Well then, good afternoon." The eye curved like a crescent moon and let out a bone-chilling cackle before vanishing with a puff of white smoke.
Along with him vanished the mess of hopping rabbits, tangled ribbons, and the multicolored balloons clinging to the ceiling.
In an instant, the chaotic room returned to its pristine state. The door was shut tight, the lock untouched—as though no one had ever come in, let alone delivered any kind of invitation.
Yet in Voldemort's hand remained the worn, unimpressive slip of paper. The flowing calligraphy was still clear, the elegant script untarnished.
And there wasn't a single trace of magic on it. It was just an ordinary piece of paper.
"M-Master?" Quirrell's voice trembled. The reversed twist of his limbs still ached unbearably. "C-Can you release me now?"
Voldemort was silent for a long moment before releasing control over Quirrell's body.
With joints cracking and bones realigning, Quirrell turned back around, pale as a ghost, nearly fainting from the pain.
The paper was now in his hand. He stared at the name written on it: Dio Brando.
"Master… should we still go through with the plan?" Quirrell asked shakily.
He hadn't seen the moment Dio removed the mask, but just surviving a direct Killing Curse from the Dark Lord was terrifying enough.
This man was easily on par with Voldemort in his prime—or perhaps even more powerful!
He must be telling the truth.
Voldemort remained silent for so long that Quirrell began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. Suddenly, he spoke.
"Proceed. Of course, we proceed," Voldemort said with a calm voice. "Whether he was telling the truth or lying, we must verify it."
"Yes, Master."
Meanwhile, Louis emerged from the restroom, letting out a sigh of relief upon seeing that his summoned Magic Hand hadn't been damaged.
Just now, he had been the one pretending to be "Dio Brando"—but he hadn't gone in person. Instead, he'd performed the entire show from behind a wall, using an invisible Magic Hand and illusion magic.
Even though he had planned for this, when Voldemort had cast Avada Kedavra without hesitation, Louis had broken into a cold sweat.
Thank Merlin he'd anticipated that exact scenario and made preparations in advance. Otherwise, what was meant to be a trick could've easily gotten himself killed. And that wouldn't be funny at all.
"But the experiment was a huge success," Louis thought. "Voldemort couldn't see through the illusion. Even if he's in bad shape, this means my time at Hogwarts will be a lot safer."
And planting a false lead ahead of time—this fictional secret organization—would help distract Voldemort.
He was the perfect audience. Louis had a feeling that the Dark Lord would become his best source of Trick Points yet.
As for why he chose the name Dio… well, that came from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. The main villain of Part 1 and Part 3, Dio Brando, was practically a savior of villains.
If you're going to invent an evil organization, naming it after Dio is just too cool to pass up.
But that wasn't the important part right now. What mattered was—
[You successfully deceived a powerful, malevolent soul and made him believe in the possible existence of a global organization uniting villains around the world.]
[This deception will have a lasting impact on the target.]
[You have earned the achievement: Trickster Who Mocked the Dark Lord.]
[All Black Magic Resistance increased by 50%.]
[You gained 700 Trick Points.]
[Current total: 860 Trick Points.]
[You have received 1 Legendary Draw Opportunity.]
[(Note: Legendary Draw is Tier 4. Each draw typically requires 10,000 Trick Points.)]
It was happening.
Louis's eyes lit up. The constant reward notifications made him feel like he'd struck gold.
Right now, those 700 points seemed almost trivial. Compared to the massive bonus in black magic resistance—and a free draw worth 10,000 points—it felt like a dream.
"As expected, choosing the wizarding world was the right move. Even just for the high-tier draws, it's worth the effort."
Louis could hardly wait to claim his rewards, but the Leaky Cauldron wasn't the right place. Plus, Mr. Wilson was still waiting for him.
Louis stepped out of the restroom and spotted Mr. Wilson at the pub's entrance.
"What took you so long?" Mr. Wilson asked, biting off the head of a Chocolate Frog. A strange texture spread through his mouth, making him pull a curious face.
Mr. Wilson really did like the wizarding world.
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