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"Maybe we are truly kindred spirits."
These words shattered the silence, stirring up a massive wave. Voldemort's lips curled into a slight smile, and in response, Harry wore a grin reminiscent of a little dark lord.
The two figures, both seemingly nefarious, locked eyes with mutual intensity, but Harry's smile quickly faded.
"But what qualifications do you have to be my teacher?"
"Is it just because you call yourself the Dark Lord? Show me something genuine; this ridiculous claim is meaningless."
Voldemort's face darkened with unmasked disdain and contempt, but Harry's next remark nearly broke his composure.
"You seem rather pleased with yourself about that, don't you?"
"Oh, absolutely! How magnificent the Dark Lord is! You've spent two and a half years finally making a name for yourself in England. People whisper about their fear of you, spreading tales of your cruelty, your overwhelming power, and your ability to do as you please."
"But in reality..."
"There are only about three thousand wizards permanently residing in England, and that includes those who are employees of the Ministry, members of pure-blood families, shopkeepers, and their staff."
"How impressive! Each one of them can supposedly capture a fire dragon, and even a mere servant could blast a dragon's head with a spell."
"Thus, after recruiting werewolves, giants, vampires, Dementors, and many other dark creatures, the Dark Lord created an army of Inferi, assembling his invincible dark forces. With the support of numerous pure-blood families, he finally established his infamous name after two and a half years."
"However, unfortunately, our invincible Dark Lord and his army couldn't even conquer the Ministry of Magic."
"After all, if mere servants can easily blast a dragon's head, what about the three hundred Aurors in the Ministry? Each of them, trained as members of the Ministry's specialized violence unit, is capable of single-handedly annihilating a city, right?"
"What a breathtaking confrontation! My powerful Dark Lord, you lead your invincible army, yet you manage to create such a dark legend in this terrifying land that instills fear in everyone who hears your name!"
"What a grand tale, right?!"
This bloody reality was sharper and more profound than any sarcasm. The barbed spear struck Voldemort like a porcupine, causing him to stagger back a step as he suddenly realized the truth.
The coldness on Harry's face grew more pronounced.
"What are you, anyway? What is the Dark Lord?"
"You're nothing but a clown. After two and a half years, you haven't even managed to conquer this tiny land called England. Out of the mere three hundred Aurors, who knows if even one-tenth of them would dare fight you! Don't talk to me about the Order of the Phoenix. How many members does Dumbledore's pathetic little group have? Twenty? Thirty?"
"These people managed to hold you off for over two years—that's the real miracle!"
"Were you born a complete waste of space?"
"Grindelwald established the Pure-Blood Party, shaking half of Europe and even invading part of North America! How long did that take him? What great things did he achieve?"
"If he hadn't given up in the end, a quarter of the magical world would have been turned upside down by him alone!"
"That is what it means to be a dark wizard! That is what an idol worthy of praise and admiration looks like!"
"You, a fool who has spent two and a half years unable to unleash even a single powerful spell, dare to call yourself the Dark Lord and take pride in it?"
"What percentage of the magical world do England's wizards represent? Not even one percent! Just a few months ago, I visited the Soviet Union, where their permanent Auror force numbers seventeen thousand, not including the reserves that can be deployed at any time. They could wipe out England's magical community ten times over in a single day and still have spare resources."
"And with that, you dare to tell me you can help me rule the world and achieve some kind of immortality? You must be dreaming!"
"You know what? In my eyes, you are nothing but this."
Harry made a gesture that would infuriate anyone from a certain universe, instantly darkening Voldemort's already pale face.
"You're just a pathetic village-level terrorist, and you can't even take down a village council."
"You expect me to trust you? Are you even capable of anything, you little dog?"
Exhibiting a chaotic and evil demeanor, Harry mercilessly mocked Voldemort, solidifying his own status as a figure of chaotic evil while severely undermining Voldemort's previously inflated arrogance.
"Now, say it out loud for me—repeat it with the same confidence you just had."
"Say that thing about needing someone at the top to help you—yes, that one!"
"Right! Now tell me again, where do you stand? What 'top' are you talking about? Who are you going to help? Help me?"
"Hahahahaha!"
A wicked smile identical to Grindelwald's spread across Harry's face. Even though he had only seen it once, he perfectly mimicked Grindelwald's expression, resulting in a devastatingly insulting portrayal.
Having achieved the satisfaction of figuratively pooping on Voldemort's head, Harry felt exhilarated. Watching the continuous shifts and distortions in Voldemort's expression was like enjoying an ice pop on a scorching summer day—refreshing and liberating.
"What's wrong? Did the truth hit you so hard that you can't speak?"
"Since your achievements are trivial, don't try to bamboozle me with your talk of being the Dark Lord and being great. Bring something substantial to the table; you've inflated your own image so high, but surely it can't all rely on mere words, right?"
"How about this: I'll ask questions, and you answer. If I'm satisfied with your answers, I'll give you a chance, little Voldy."
"If you don't speak, I'll take it as a yes. Now, let's begin."
With a powerful assault that disrupted Voldemort's rhythm, Harry took control of the conversation. There were many things about Voldemort that Harry could extract information from, and now was a golden opportunity.
"Although I've never met my mother, you say she was quite remarkable, so tell me about her."
Unaware of the intricate plot of this world, Harry was intrigued by the person who betrayed his parents. Though Sirius had been imprisoned, Snape did not appear to be the one who had leaked any information.
Snape answered nearly every question Harry asked, treating him as if he were his own son. When it came to discussing Harry's mother, Lily, a warm nostalgia flickered in Snape's eyes. There was regret and pain there, but no sense of guilt over betrayal.
In contrast, whenever Sirius Black, Harry's other godfather, was mentioned, Snape's gaze revealed not just disdain but a deep, visceral hatred—a hatred so profound that it was beyond mere description.
It was highly unlikely that Snape had revealed the prophecy to Voldemort because Voldemort had heard the complete prophecy rather than the fragmented version Snape had originally overheard.
At that moment, the possibility of a revelation seemed imminent.
(End of this chapter)