"Mr. Noctis!"
Harry exclaimed in surprise.
Quirrell, however, looked terrified. "Master, that's Greengrass's raven—he's here!"
Indeed, no sooner had he spoken than the raven landed on the shoulder of a black-robed figure. Upon closer inspection, two Young Wizards followed behind him.
Harry finally relaxed. He looked at Sagres and his two companions, almost on the verge of tears, but he managed to hold back—Sagres gave him a reassuring look.
"Lord Voldemort..." Sagres repeated the name slowly, eyeing the face with a half-smile. "How have you fallen so low? Stealing from children..."
He reached out and took the Philosopher's Stone from the raven's beak, turning it over in his hand and examining it carefully.
No wonder Lord Voldemort hadn't cared about Quirrell's clumsy schemes—it turned out he'd been hiding right under everyone's noses.
Sagres had observed all of Quirrell's antics and never intervened—He thought that Quirrell was here because of Voldemort's orders.
The more conspicuous Quirrell's actions were, the safer he became. After all, who would suspect that behind the blatantly suspicious Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor... was actually Lord Voldemort himself?!
Sagres looked at the face on the back of Quirrell's head with a complicated expression, a flicker of disappointment passing through his eyes.
"..."
Lord Voldemort's expression shifted unpredictably. He ignored the sarcasm in Sagres's voice, and after a moment of silence, he slowly spoke: "Ah~ yes~ Sagres, I know you… Your father was my most loyal follower. We shouldn't be enemies…"
The three Young Wizards were immediately stunned by Lord Voldemort's words. Professor Greengrass's father had been one of Lord Voldemort's subordinates? Then what about him…?
They didn't dare to think further. Fortunately, Sagres's next words quickly dispelled their doubts.
"Yes, not just him…" Sagres smiled indifferently. "Many members of the Greengrass family once followed in your footsteps, but they're all still in Azkaban now…"
"I know, I know, it's a tragic truth…" Lord Voldemort said coaxingly. "Give me the Philosopher's Stone… Once I regain my strength, rescuing them won't be difficult."
"Rescue them?" Sagres looked surprised. "Why would I rescue them? I'm the one who put some of them there."
Lord Voldemort and the Young Wizards were momentarily stunned, but Sagres continued calmly, "After all, your pure-blood ideology is absolute garbage… You don't understand that only constant evolution, fusion, and innovation can prevent the magical civilization from becoming a living fossil. Your view of Magic is outdated and destined for failure."
"Silence, you filthy half-blood!" Lord Voldemort finally lost control, his fury erupting. The ferocious look on his face caused the three Young Wizards to instinctively step back.
"The rule of pure-blood Wizards is destiny! How could a half-blood mongrel like you understand the true power that comes from noble bloodlines?"
Without a change in expression, Sagres handed the Philosopher's Stone to Hermione behind him, then casually drew his wand.
"Oh? Then you probably shouldn't have been groveling in the Forbidden Forest, drinking Unicorn blood just to survive…"
He descended the steps slowly, each step bringing him closer, while Lord Voldemort subtly backed away.
"Magic doesn't care about your surname," Sagres said calmly. "You should have realized that when you were living off snakes and rats in the Forbidden Forest."
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted.
A piercing green light shot toward him like a bolt of lightning.
Sagres didn't dodge. He simply flicked his wand, and a pale bird made of flame burst forth from its tip, colliding head-on with the Killing Curse.
In an instant, the green light vanished without a trace.
"Very good. At least you still have the courage to raise your wand at me," he nodded at Lord Voldemort. "Although the power is lacking, I can just about see a shadow of the Dark Lord you once were."
"Flippendo!"
Lord Voldemort continued casting spells, but Sagres casually waved his wand again. The black spell light disintegrated instantly.
"Still not enough," Sagres shook his head, frowning, his tone filled with scrutiny. "If this is all you've got, then you may not leave here alive today."
"Crucio!"
This time, the red curse snaked toward him like a serpent, hitting Sagres directly—but it did nothing to slow his calm and resolute steps.
"Heh, Crucio…" he chuckled, voice full of disdain. "I learned that spell when I was five. Honestly, my mother's casting was stronger than yours."
Lord Voldemort was backed into a corner with nowhere left to retreat. In desperation, he slashed his wand violently, summoning a deep crimson flame that surged into the air and transformed into a massive, menacing serpent of fire.
"Not bad. A clever use of Fiendfyre…" Sagres raised an eyebrow slightly. "Finally—something interesting."
Hermione, not far away, widened her eyes. "The Fiendfyre Curse!"
The other two Young Wizards couldn't help but ask, "Is it really that powerful?"
"Of course!" Hermione replied. "Fiendfyre is an extremely difficult magical flame to control. It has its own consciousness and is known as hellfire—it can burn through anything…"
Worried expressions crossed the Young Wizards' faces. But Sagres remained perfectly calm; he hadn't even stopped walking.
"Yes, Fiendfyre—the fire of destruction. Coincidentally, I've done quite a bit of research on that spell myself…" Sagres walked directly toward the roaring serpent of flame. "Let's see today who gets burned in this battle of fire!"
With that, he stepped straight into the Fiendfyre conjured by Lord Voldemort—but the expected tragic outcome never happened.
Sagres passed through the sea of flames completely unharmed. The enormous deep red serpent transformed the moment it touched him, shifting into a pale bird of fire that immediately turned and shot back toward Lord Voldemort.
Lord Voldemort quickly raised his wand and cast a counter-spell. Sagres recognized it instantly—it was a highly advanced combination spell integrating Finite Incantatem, Freezing Charm, Aguamenti, and an enhanced Homorphus Charm. The giant white fiery bird was steadily held at bay by Voldemort's spellwork and gradually began to dissipate.
"Truly worthy of the title 'Dark Lord,'" Sagres said, his expression unmoved. But in his eyes, mockery and disdain were unconcealed.
"But! Let me show you what the true mastery of flames looks like." Sagres tilted his head and slowly muttered, "Protego Muspelheim~!"
Lord Voldemort's face changed instantly. The trace of pride that had appeared a moment ago vanished, replaced by terror.
The firebird he had just subdued was suddenly reignited by Sagres's incantation, transforming into a wild inferno that engulfed him completely.
"Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"
A heart-wrenching scream echoed from within the flames—Quirrell's voice, full of agony.
"Sagres… please spare me! I was truly forced…" Quirrell sobbed and begged.
Sagres remained unmoved. He merely waved his hand, and the pale flames receded like a tide, revealing a disheveled figure curled up on the ground.
"Ah, Sagres, save me…" Quirrell continued to cry out. "I was helpless the whole time! Lord Voldemort controlled me—I wanted to confess the truth to you, but I never had the chance…"
Sagres stood there silently, his gaze piercing like firelight, saying nothing.
"At first, I only wanted to learn some powerful Magic from him, and then report him when the time was right. But who knew Lord Voldemort would seize the opportunity to control my body? By the time I tried to resist, I was already powerless… Everything I did after that was to draw your attention, to make you see something was wrong with me… but every one of you turned a blind eye…"
"Sagres, please… give me another chance! Even if it means going to Azkaban… even if I have to face the Dementors…"
Swoosh!—
A sharp, silent Severing Charm sliced through the air like lightning, striking the back of Quirrell's head. Before he could even react, his entire face had been cleanly severed by the spell.
Yet Sagres's deeply furrowed brows still did not ease. Because despite the blood pouring from the gash, Lord Voldemort's face was still clinging tightly to the back of Quirrell's head.
"Carnem Exuere!"
Sagres continued to cast spells on Quirrell. This was another terrifying use of this spell – forcibly separating a person's physical body and soul.
"Ahrggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!"
Quirrell let out an even more piercing scream, but this time, the disguised Lord Voldemort could no longer escape. He was being forcibly peeled away from the back of Quirrell's head.
"You will all die!" the bloody, mangled face suddenly shrieked.
Before detaching, it frantically consumed Quirrell's flesh and soul. In the blink of an eye, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was completely devoured, leaving behind only a tattered husk—like a scarecrow stripped of its covering—exposed before everyone's eyes.
Then, Lord Voldemort's separated face suddenly convulsed, as if gathering power, and exploded in a terrifying blast.
Dust billowed in every direction, followed by an oppressive silence.
A silent Scourgify purified the swirling debris. Only when Sagres saw that the room was once again empty did he slowly lower his wand, revealing the Young Wizards and Quirrell, who had been shielded behind a protective charm.
But Quirrell had clearly reached the end of his life. His Magic, his flesh, even his soul had been nearly entirely consumed by Lord Voldemort—leaving nothing but a half-dead shell, barely clinging to life.
"Lord Voldemort… is he dead?" Quirrell asked with the last of his strength.
"No. He escaped," Sagres replied impassively.
The Young Wizards couldn't help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu upon hearing this—as if they had witnessed this exact scene once before.
Upon careful reflection, they were startled to recall that it was just like the conversation between Veiliss and the Centaur, Lyon, after Veiliss had expelled Lord Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest.
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