Chapter 742 - 290: Voldemort Has Lost His Cool (Part 2)
Chapter 742: Chapter 290: Voldemort Has Lost His Cool (Part 2)
"See that house on the hill, Potter? My father lived there—my mother was a wizard and lived in this village. She fell in love with him. But when she revealed her identity, he abandoned her... my father didn’t like magic..."
"He left her, returned to his Muggle parents. I wasn’t even born yet, Potter. My mother died giving birth to me, and I grew up in a Muggle orphanage... but I vowed to find him... I took revenge on the man who gave me his name... Tom Riddle..."
He continued pacing, his red eyes scanning the tombstones.
It sounded like he was talking to Harry, but in reality, Voldemort was speaking to the Death Eaters.
"The taste of revenge is so sweet, Potter." Voldemort chuckled darkly, "Indeed, I don’t care for my father’s filthy Muggle blood, but it doesn’t matter. I believe he would gladly atone for his past—if he had accepted my mother, perhaps I would not have been tossed about and left in an orphanage."
"Oh, give me a break, Tom." Harry rolled his eyes, "You know what your mother was like. She was just a pure bitch, it was her one-sided love for your father, that poor Old Riddle, and she forcefully assaulted him with a Love Potion. He was truly pitiful, suffering such treatment in life and being maligned by you in death—Tom, is it so hard to admit your mother was a whore?"
Voldemort gritted his teeth, glaring at Harry, utterly enraged.
This little bastard, he just knew which sore spot to poke.
But he forced himself to endure it. He continued, "Alright, I’ll admit, you’re right, but that’s not an excuse for the man to abandon my mother, who loved me deeply..."
"Oh, please, Tom." Harry rolled his eyes, "Your mother didn’t want you either, you poor unloved wretch—if your mother loved you, why did she abandon you at the orphanage? Look at your flawed logic, it seems like your brain isn’t fully developed, nor is your cerebellum fully matured."
Voldemort felt a bit broken yet defensive.
"Actually, I just had a chat with your mother, Tom," Harry added again, "Guess what?"
"What?" Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes.
"Hey, your mother’s dead!" Harry laughed loudly and recklessly.
Without warning, he suddenly lifted his wand, and a spell shot forth from its tip like a laser beam.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green spell was so bright that the surroundings of Great Hangleton for miles turned a ghostly green under its glow.
Voldemort was prepared. He suddenly appeared beside the dwarf who was originally there, replacing him into the range of the Avada Kedavra.
The dwarf didn’t have time to utter any screams and silently died on the spot.
"Oh, Peter." Voldemort said regretfully, "Though he was a coward, he was the first to find my servant... You killed my most loyal servant, I think you owe me an explanation, Mr. Potter—"
Oh, it was Peter Pettigrew...
Harry felt a bit of regret that the traitor died just like that, somewhat disappointing.
Though he wasn’t intent on personally killing the other Death Eaters, he certainly wished for Peter, the traitor who betrayed his parents, to die more painfully.
At least he should have experienced the slow roasting of the Ancient Burei Immortal Fire!
Anyway, he wasn’t really expecting the ambush to kill Voldemort, it was just to open his eyes.
"Of course, I think reporting this matter to Principal Dumbledore might be better, don’t you agree?" Voldemort talked to himself again, "Let him see what kind of student his Hogwarts has cultivated, using such a forbidden spell right out of the gate against his old schoolmate... Judging from your spellcasting level, your intent to kill is not small, Potter."
"Oh, maybe not." Harry said to Voldemort, "In my current situation, casting spells doesn’t need any intent to kill, it just flies out with a flick of my hand."
These words made Voldemort fall silent.
He admitted it; he was jealous.
Why, exactly?
You’d think if someone had such a talent it’d be acceptable, but the genius who possessed it had to be his nemesis Harry Potter?
That’s really awkward.
"I admit you have some talent, Potter." Voldemort spoke after a long silence.
"I’m so glad you complimented me." Harry said with a smile.
He was genuinely pleased, as an acknowledgment from one’s rival, especially a deadly one, further proved Harry’s feats and skills.
However, he added, "Before sending you off, I have a question, Tom."
"Go ahead," Voldemort asked calmly.
"How many Soul Artifacts did you make in total?" Harry asked, "Besides that Diary impersonating a woman... impersonating your mother in Slytherin College tricking kids, and the Slytherin locket, how many other Soul Artifacts do you have?"
"That’s confidential, Mr. Potter." Voldemort narrowed his eyes and asked, "You don’t think I’d tell you, do you?"
"Oh, how would I know without trying?" Harry shrugged, asked again, "So, where’s that you causing trouble in the United States, now?"
"Still in the United States, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you." Voldemort said, "So, mind having a chat with me, Potter?"
"Of course not, but..."
Harry sneered, finally revealing his trump card.
While he was chatting idly with Voldemort, he had been using the Ancient Burei Immortal Fire to burrow underground, and after this lengthy stalling, the flame was ready, poised to surge forth at any moment.
Under his control, the flame instantly burst out, enveloping Voldemort just like those Fire Prisons of the Death Eaters.
Seeing Voldemort encased in the fireball cage, Harry nodded in satisfaction.
"That’s much better, Tom," Harry said, "Now I feel a little safer, no need to worry about you sneaking away at any moment."
Voldemort remained silent.
"Can’t there be a little trust between people?" he asked.
"Of course there can be, but only when I can ensure you won’t sneak off," Harry snapped his fingers, making the fire burn even more vigorously, its blue flames reflecting humorously in Voldemort’s crimson pupils.
"You should know, Harry," Voldemort said, "I’m not exactly the kind to surrender easily."
If there were others here, they would probably be startled by the way Harry and Voldemort addressed each other—one calling the other Tom, the other calling Harry, as if they were old friends.
"Is that so?" Harry raised an eyebrow. In his estimation, at most, Voldemort would play a suicide act, reverting to his soul state. After all, he couldn’t die completely.
Voldemort didn’t say anything, merely shot Harry a sinister smile.
Beside them, the air suddenly twisted, accompanied by crackling and popping sounds, Vivi and Dumbledore appeared.
Just as he was about to greet them, Harry suddenly felt a chill grip his neck like a vice.
He saw Vivi’s expression turn to astonishment.
"Harry!"