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"We are of the same kind, Harry Potter!"
Voldemort's voice echoed in the silent underground chamber. Although his tone was aged and decaying, infused with a sense of impending doom, he, like Grindelwald, possessed a certain charisma in his words that compelled people to believe him against their better judgment.
"Even with your nose still intact, you look much more tolerable."
With a smirk of derision, Harry shook his head slightly. "Who would consider themselves your equal, you grotesque thing?"
"Pah!"
Harry spat dismissively. "Stop trying to get cozy with me."
"Isn't it better for me to kill you, or for you to kill me, and finally resolve this prophecy?"
As Harry relaxed his previously tense posture, he realized that since Voldemort wasn't rushing to attack, he was willing to draw out some information.
"Haven't you been looking forward to this for a long time? And now, here I am before you."
"Another Killing Curse? Don't tell me you can't cast a spell without your wand—that would be pretty pathetic, wouldn't it?"
"If this were earlier, I would have killed you without hesitation."
Voldemort's expression grew colder, yet his tone remained calm.
"But after leaving Albania, I came to understand many things. For example, there are no eternal enemies or friends in this world—only eternal interests."
"You are different from the others, so I can forgive your offense."
"Ah, how remarkably merciful of you," Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Then I request that you, merciful Voldemort, lend me your head so that I can place it before my parents' graves as a belated offering for not honoring them for ten years."
"Are your parents that important to you?"
At this question, Voldemort revealed a hint of a smile. "You and I are of the same kind. I understand you better than anyone, even if this is technically our first official meeting."
"Two strangers who never appeared in your life—are they really that significant to you?"
"Our experiences are so similar. From a young age, we've both been without our parents. Neither of us carries memories of these two strangers. Even if they were to suddenly reappear after ten years, our feelings wouldn't be filled with joyous tears."
"I killed my father with my own hands when I was sixteen. I killed the man who abandoned my mother and me, wiping out his entire family. But I felt not a single trace of satisfaction," Voldemort paused, "not even the joy of revenge, because I killed him for myself, not for my mother."
"Those two strangers who never stood by your side—why should you care about them? Isn't that right?"
"Perhaps you've misunderstood something," Harry's expression hardened. "I am not devoid of humanity like you are."
"You speak to me of humanity?"
"Huh?!"
Voldemort let out a short, harsh laugh.
"You are the least human of anyone I have ever encountered—more so than anything else in existence!"
"That heart-wrenching darkness! A darkness deeper than the abyss!"
"Even from afar, I am still shaken by that purest form of chaotic evil! That darkness does not belong to the realm of humanity! It shouldn't even be wielded by people!"
"You think I'm a madman? A soulless creature?"
"Your evil is a thousand times purer than mine! Ten thousand times!"
"It is precisely because of this! Because of this chaotic evil that even I find shocking! That is how I am certain of what the prophecy foretells!"
"Born with this incredible darkness, you indeed possess powers unknown to me!"
"I once believed I had reached the pinnacle of dark magic, that I had arrived at a point no one else could reach. I thought there was no way forward, but your emergence shattered my previous understanding."
"You will become an even greater force than I, a true master who will wield the power to dominate the world!"
"But first, you need someone standing at the pinnacle of this path to help you. You have the potential to take that next step beyond, but potential is just potential; until it transforms into real strength, everything is mere illusion."
"Confront your true self, Harry."
A voice filled with dark temptation echoed in Harry's ears.
"There's no need to pretend to care about insignificant people and matters. Here, it is just the two of us; you don't have to continue wearing a mask before me."
"Dumbledore can teach you nothing; Grindelwald fails to recognize your potential. Only I can help you attain that supreme power—the power that grants you immortality!"
As Voldemort raised his hands as if embracing something, a thick black mist swirled around him. The strange bloodstained patterns beneath his feet seemed to come alive, the once-solid blood slowly writhing, and he hastened the extraction of the dark mist.
"Oh, really?"
Harry replied coldly, his tone devoid of any emotional fluctuation. This indifference only served to confirm Voldemort's suspicions.
Harry was, like him, born to tread the path of darkness, destined to conquer it and rise as a king.
"You, a mere shadow of a being, dare speak to me of immortality?"
"Are you going to cower in fear, just like you did in the Albanian forest for ten years?"
"That kind of immortality is indeed quite impressive."
These words seemed to stab at Voldemort's heart, but he maintained a strained smile and waved dismissively.
"Yet I still live, do I not? I can even live longer than anyone else. In an eternity, this fleeting moment is insignificant."
"Though I haven't fully restored my physical form yet, that does not mean I am incapable; rather, I refuse to create a subpar body."
"Dumbledore hid the Philosopher's Stone in this mirror, didn't he? I need it. Even though I know it's bait set by that old fox, I still came. He understands what a person fears and desires. When I first encountered him, he revealed this to me. He also taught me a lesson: as long as one possesses power, one can compel anyone to do things they might not wish to do."
"I need a perfect body, not a haphazardly cobbled-together shell."
"He likely intended for you to confront me, but he didn't expect that I am not as weak as he imagines."
"I stole Chirol's life force and magic. With this rare boost, I was able to escape my frail ghostly state and even regained some ability to cast spells. I returned to England, knowing that only by going there could I truly come back."
"But as I said before, there are no eternal enemies or friends in this world—only eternal interests. I was slightly disappointed, but I quickly regained control over them, for my power can compel them to act according to my wishes, even if they do not want to."
"These details are not particularly important. What matters is that Dumbledore misjudged me, and even more so, he misjudged you!"
"He would never suspect that you are not the naive and reckless fool he envisioned, someone he could manipulate at will. The dark power simmering deep within you is astonishing and terrifying."
"You will inevitably walk the same path as I, and you, who are of my kind, will eventually uncover the old man's exposed schemes. He wants to turn you into a hero, doesn't he? The Boy Who Lived, England's savior, the only one who defeated the mysterious man."
"Think about it: if Dumbledore were truly a virtuous person, why would he deliberately mention this place at the start of the school year?"
"The Devil's Snare in the first-year textbook, the game-like quest for the keys, the seemingly unsolvable yet easily overcome stone guardian—certainly, the Dementors were beyond my expectations. Although Grindelwald isn't aligned with us, being a dark wizard, who knows what insane thoughts might cross his mind? Such is the nature of dark wizards."
"This place was designed as a heroic adventure for you. When he knew I would come to Hogwarts, why would he have a first-year wizard like you meet me? What was he thinking?"
The underground chamber fell silent once more as Voldemort awaited Harry's contemplation. He believed it would take some time for a child to digest such revelations.
After a moment, Harry's voice finally broke the silence.
"It's indeed quite interesting."
Harry looked at Voldemort. "Perhaps we truly are companions on this journey."
(End of chapter)