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Although Harry had never heard this voice before, he had a strong suspicion that this hoarse, withered, and seemingly deathly old voice belonged to Voldemort.
Since Quirrell had died in the Albanian forest, Voldemort's situation had completely changed. He was no longer trapped like a mere sticker on the back of Quirrell's head, hidden beneath a garlic-scented turban. Perhaps the reason his newly reformed body lacked a nose was a consequence of possessing Quirrell, leading to aftereffects like a loss of smell.
Clearly, after killing Quirrell and draining him of all his magical power and life force, Voldemort had likely regained his body through another means. At the very least, he had escaped the helplessness of being a ghost who could do nothing.
However, Harry was curious about how Voldemort had entered Hogwarts. Had he used the secret passages that connected Hogwarts to the outside world? Or had he disguised himself as a student to sneak in? While Dumbledore and Grindelwald might overlook Voldemort's presence, such a glaring lapse in surveillance seemed unlikely. Voldemort was insane, but he wasn't mentally deficient; it wouldn't give him the impression that "these two old fools have become senile."
In the wizarding world, the notorious duo, Voldemort and Grindelwald, had gained power not only through their exceptional strength but also through their sharp minds. In everyone's eyes, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald were cunning old foxes, having lived over a hundred years and achieving remarkable results.
With these thoughts in mind, Harry didn't rush to move. His recovering magical energy was gradually stabilizing his heavy breathing. After downing a potion to restore his energy, he organized himself and stepped deeper into the chamber.
Adjacent to Grindelwald's barrier was the challenge set by Snape. However, this room had been violently destroyed. A table holding potion bottles of various sizes lay shattered, and the fire wall that should have stood before him had vanished, leaving a dark mark on the floor—a trace from the magical flames that had scorched it.
At the end of the room stood a magnificent golden mirror: the Mirror of Erised, which Harry recognized. In front of the mirror stood a half-figure resembling a Dementor.
Why was it called a half-figure? Because it only had an upper body; beneath its hollow black robes billowed a dense cloud of black mist. On the ground were strange patterns smeared with blood, and countless tiny black vapors seeped from those eerie designs, merging into the lower half of the half-figure's body.
"I've been waiting for you a long time, Harry Potter!"
As Harry stepped into the room, the half-figure abruptly turned to face him. Its face, covered in black patterns and resembling shattered porcelain, looked directly at Harry.
The figure that had appeared countless times in his childhood dreams matched the fragmented porcelain face before him. Although its voice carried the frailty of age, disregarding the cracks in its black lines, Voldemort's face had changed little in the past decade.
Having been blessed with a striking appearance in his youth, Voldemort had remained a charming figure even in old age. If it weren't for the terrifying madness glinting in his scarlet eyes, it would be hard to believe such a person was the merciless Dark Lord responsible for countless deaths.
In a world so focused on appearances, beauty mattered greatly; Voldemort's handsome visage had assisted him countless times.
"So, after you arrived at Hogwarts, you've just been lurking here waiting for me?"
"Oh, how touching! I hope sitting for so long hasn't given you hemorrhoids. Oh, right, you don't have a backside now, so it doesn't matter."
Harry teased Voldemort with flippant remarks, but he maintained his usual vigilance. He was ready to cast spells at a moment's notice, prepared to act with lightning speed should anything arise.
"Ten years ago, my loyal servant told me a prophecy about myself. It was a prediction made by a seer and conveyed to Dumbledore. My servant overheard it and brought it to me in its entirety."
Voldemort stood still, unaffected, as he recounted the past to Harry.
"At first, I dismissed it. I understood that Dumbledore was a foe I needed to take seriously, but I didn't believe a down-and-out witch could conjure up an enemy capable of killing me out of thin air."
"But over time, I gradually changed my mind." A hint of a smile, whether mocking or sardonic, twisted Voldemort's shattered face. "Dumbledore protected that woman, and upon discovering this, I began to give the prophecy more thought."
"I want to see what kind of abilities the child who could become my great enemy possesses, the kind that means only one of us can survive!"
"What sort of power lies within him? What unknown strength does he harbor?"
"I find this very intriguing, which is why I set out to find you, Harry Potter."
"But this damned prophecy has deceived me!"
Voldemort's voice suddenly turned furious, almost spewing out dark, toxic fumes as his face twisted grotesquely, completely shattering the semblance of his once-handsome features. The rising black mist emerged from the cracks on his face and body, as if the exhaust from a car had taken on a life of its own.
"It's not you who possesses power! It's your damned mother!"
"Lily Potter!"
Voldemort glared at Harry with such intensity that it felt as if he would crush his teeth. The resemblance in their eyes to Lily's seemed to remind him of that fateful night.
"I truly do not understand what magic she used to protect you. Even the Killing Curse rebounded that night, destroying my body and turning me into a weak, lurking specter, forced to survive in the forests of Albania by siphoning the meager life force of wild beasts."
"She was certainly an unexpected adversary, someone with the potential to oppose me. Unfortunately, she was too young."
An ugly smile crept across Voldemort's face. It seemed as if he were trying to provoke Harry, but he failed to see even a flicker of emotion on Harry's face.
"I easily killed her with just a single spell."
"If it weren't for her desire to protect you, she might have escaped and caused me significant trouble."
"But just now, I finally understood: the prophecy was not wrong. You indeed possess the power to threaten me."
At this moment, his crimson eyes gleamed even brighter. Across the distance of several dozen meters, Voldemort raised his hand.
"I've just realized that you are actually just like me."
"Oh, no, perhaps I should admit that your performance earlier truly impressed me."
"More terrifying than the so-called light to darkness is darkness that is even deeper."
"Come to my side, and I will help you find your true path. I will guide you in discovering the true power within you!"
"When that time comes, not just England, but the entire wizarding world will tremble beneath our feet!"
"We are kindred spirits, Harry Potter!"
(End of Chapter)