aircannonsinc Chapter 232 Voldemort Tortures Lockhart
Chapter 232 Voldemort Tortures Lockhart
Chapter 232 Voldemort Tortures Lockhart
Picking up where we left off, Fleur felt as if Mount Tai had been crushed by Harry's spell. Suddenly, she heard a soft "crack" beside her ear, like ice shattering and jade breaking, which startled her so much that her very soul trembled.
Is it my necklace?
It's going to break?!
Before the thought had even left her mind, she heard a loud "bang," and saw the ruby around her neck shatter into pieces.
Suddenly, another beam of crimson light burst forth and spread out, dazzling and bright, actually dispelling the invisible pressure on his body.
Furong felt a sudden lightness in her back, as if a thousand-pound sluice gate had been removed. She immediately straightened her back, pushed off the ground, and leaped into the air, shouting urgently, "Run!"
No sooner said than done! Furong twisted her body, like a hungry tiger darting into the forest or a startled snake slithering into the grass, and lunged towards the thorny thicket wall.
But then she heard a series of sharp, cracking sounds as hard branches swept across her face. She ignored them, letting them leave several bloody scratches on her cheeks.
You should know that at this moment, adrenaline is surging, so who cares about pain or itching? It's like a gust of wind has already blown in.
Seeing the danger, Krum and Cedric didn't answer. Instead, they followed her example, bent over, and rushed into the thicket.
The three shadows weaved through the maze, darting about in the shadows, trying to dodge Harry while secretly pushing their feet to get ahead of him.
While the tree wall continued to tremble violently, Harry remained as steady as a rock, simply pointing his wand forward and shouting, "Ultra-High Energy!"
As soon as the incantation ended, an invisible aura condensed on the tip of the staff, hissing as it suddenly exploded with a deafening roar, unleashing a torrent of energy!
But what could be seen was: flying sand and stones, swirling and shattering the sky. It was like a yellow dragon spitting mist, or a hurricane mother stirring up waves. Wherever the rolling waves passed, the dense thorn walls and tree fortifications were instantly turned to dust; the hidden monsters were tossed and turned into the air, making people dizzy and disoriented in an instant.
The shockwave continued relentlessly, like a dragon baring its fangs and claws, roaring forward and devouring everything in its path.
In the blink of an eye, a wide road leading to the sky had been cleared. It was tens of feet wide and five or six hundred paces long. The once gloomy maze was now open and clear.
The three women, including Furong, were also thrown over by the evil aura. They spun wildly in mid-air like kites with broken strings, and then crashed onto the hard ground with a thud, leaving them completely disoriented.
The three of them groaned in unison, feeling dizzy and as if their joints were falling apart.
Cedric collapsed into the dust, staring blankly at the stars. He coughed heavily a few times, muttering weakly, "Forget it—the championship is Harry's—"
"We simply can't beat them—"
"This is no longer the level a student should be at."
Furong and Krum remained silent, lying face up in the weeds, staring blankly.
Now that the obstacle has been removed, a faint golden light appears at the end of the long road, swaying and flickering – it is the trophy of the three-way competition.
Seeing the golden goblet shimmering with light, Harry's desire to kill Voldemort flared up like wildfire in the wind.
Without further hesitation, they strode forward.
Without turning his head, his clothes fluttered in the wind as he swept past the three women, Furong and her companions, who were sprawled on the ground.
Ahead of them, they encountered a Sphinx with the body of a lion and the head of a woman. The monster was so frightened by Harry's menacing approach that it fled into the thorn bushes on the side, leaving only half of its round buttocks sticking out and jiggling.
Harry ignored it and went straight to the golden cup. He first checked his body and all his weapons, then put his crown on top of his head and grabbed the golden cup.
In an instant, he felt his body being violently pulled by the hook, his feet leaving the ground. The cup then dragged him into the whooshing wind and the flowing, colorful light, heading straight for that unknown place.
Before long, Harry suddenly felt his feet firmly planted on solid ground. Before he could even look around, a cold shout pierced the air.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A beam of emerald light shot towards him, and Harry flung the trophy aside, brandishing his wand and letting out a roar.
"Ultimate Avada Kedavra!"
The two deadly curses collided in mid-air with a deafening boom, like a thunderclap in a clear sky.
Where the spell lights intertwined, countless blue flames and golden stars burst forth, instantly turning into smoke.
When the light faded, Harry focused his gaze and saw the newcomer:
He was clad in a somber black robe, his features were deathly pale and frosty, and his face was completely bald. His lips were so thin they were almost nonexistent, and his nostrils were just two dark, hollow holes.
Such an appearance: three parts like a skinned python, seven parts like a resurrected corpse, truly: thin lips, a cave-like nose, and a sinister appearance, like Yama, the King of Hell, emerging from the land of ghosts.
Harry stared intently, then burst into laughter, "What do we have here? It's a featherless birdman! So ugly and clumsy, it must be a bald chicken that's lost its feathers!"
Voldemort's face contorted with disgust at his mockery, and he said coldly, "Your words are as repulsive as ever, Potter."
Harry didn't argue with him, but simply glanced around. He saw that his house was standing in a dark, desolate graveyard, with wild grass reaching his knees.
Behind an old yew tree on the right, the shadowy silhouette of a small church looms out; on the hillside to the left, however, stands a neat house, but not a single light shines through its windows.
Upon seeing this terrain, Harry's heart sank, and he cursed inwardly: Damn it! This featherless monster is so cunning! It tricked both me and the professor, this is no Albanian forest!
As Harry pondered this, Voldemort seemed to read his mind, slowly twirling his wand with his withered fingers, and chuckled, "Don't be so surprised, Mr. Potter. You should know that I am highly skilled in magic. I knew that when you captured Crouch."
"By the way, this is the cemetery of Riedel Palace, which is thousands of kilometers away from the Albanian forest."
"Dumbledore and his men won't be able to get here anytime soon."
Harry, however, showed no fear upon hearing this. He gripped his wand firmly in his left hand, held the ring-wielding knife upside down in his right, and chuckled coldly, "What? You think Grandpa can't take your egghead by himself!"
Before the words were even finished, a thought suddenly occurred to him, and the precious sword was drawn with a clang, aimed straight at Voldemort's neck.
Voldemort knew Harry possessed the skill of throwing knives and had secretly prepared seven parts of it. Seeing a slight movement in his hand, his figure instantly dissipated into a cloud of black mist.
Where the blade flashed, only smoke and mist scattered. In the blink of an eye, the black mist reformed into a human shape more than ten feet away, swaying and standing still.
"Don't be in such a hurry, Harry."
"To be honest, there's not much of a grudge between us, is there?"
Upon hearing this, Harry's face paled instantly, veins bulging on his forehead like coiled earthworms. He cursed, "You son of a bitch! The hatred for the murderer of my father and mother is irreconcilable! If I don't tear you to pieces today, I'm not worthy of being called a man!"
Without the slightest hesitation, he removed his black gloves, and the poisonous gas in his palm surged, condensing into three snake venom arrows that shot out; the invisible ring knife rose again, slashing left and right as it charged straight forward; he hurriedly chanted incantations, and more than a dozen streaks of red light and purple lightning burst forth from his magic wand.
These three deadly moves, unleashed simultaneously, seemed to possess three heads and six arms, each displaying its power, densely weaving a net that stretched across the heavens and the earth.
Voldemort did not use any spells to resist. His body suddenly dispersed and then reassembled, turning into wisps of black smoke that wandered between the light and shadow. Only a faint sound could be heard drifting in the cold wind from all sides.
"But what if I could bring your parents back to life?"
With just a few words, Harry seemed frozen in place. Salazar, in his arms, seeing this, said urgently in a low voice, "Don't believe him. Bringing the dead back to life will definitely be punished by the Law of Balance."
Seeing that Harry remained unmoved, Voldemort assumed that he was tempted. He immediately froze, and his black aura slowly coalesced into a human form. He coaxed, "I heard that you destroyed Azkaban. You must have seen that guy named Extis, right?"
""
"Based on what I know about you, you would definitely use Legilimency on him."
Seeing that Harry remained silent, he seized the opportunity to add fuel to the fire.
"Harry, haven't you noticed? We're actually quite alike."
"Same background, extremely high magical talent, decisive and ruthless in action—of course, you are lacking in etiquette."
"If we join forces, everyone, whether Muggles or wizards, will have to grovel at our feet—"
Upon hearing this, Harry suddenly burst into laughter again, startling the crows in the old tree into a flurry of flight.
"As the saying goes, 'Like begets like,' and only today do I truly understand the meaning of that saying!"
"You scoundrel, all you ever think about is making people your servants, you must have taken after your father! He must have gotten used to being a slave under your mother's thumb!"
Upon hearing this, Voldemort's pale face regained some color, and even the two dark holes around his eyes widened slightly.
Harry burst into laughter, and Voldemort, for some reason, also started to laugh strangely. The two laughs grew louder and louder, until they sounded like an owl crying at a grave and a wolf howling at the moon.
Let alone ordinary wandering ghosts, even the judges in front of Yama's palace would probably cover their ears and flee upon hearing this.
Before the laughter had even faded, Harry abruptly stopped, pointed his wand into the air, and shouted, "Death, clear the way!"
As the incantation ended, the earth and stones between the graves burst open, and one after another, dark blue ghost hands emerged from the ground.
The hand, dense and gruesome, covered in rotting flesh and reeking of a sinister wind, tore at the tombstone, smashed the trophy, and swept towards Voldemort.
To everyone's surprise, Voldemort remained calm. His figure suddenly rose like black smoke, hovering three or four zhang above the ground, and he whispered, "Aren't you curious, Potter?"
"If I were you, I would definitely wonder why there isn't a single Death Eater here."
These words drifted into Harry's ears, and he was startled.
Voldemort spun around in an instant, using Apparition, and with a loud crack, he vanished without a trace.
Harry didn't hesitate. He first used Patronus, and a flash of silver light appeared. The worm with its slanted eyes and white forehead let out a low growl and rushed towards Hogwarts with all four legs moving like the wind.
Harry immediately shouted, "Crown, add points!"
Let's set aside this for now and focus on Hogwarts.
After Harry grabbed the golden cup, Fleur, the other two each flicked their wands and shot three streaks of crimson sparks into the sky.
The sparks hissed and shot into the sky, exploding into three red clouds.
Before long, the medical team rushed into the maze and carried Furong and the other two out on stretchers.
Hundreds of students in the stands craned their necks and stared wide-eyed. When they saw the three faces, they suddenly burst into thunderous cheers.
"We won! They're eliminated again!"
"Homage to the King of Hogwarts!"
"Where's Harry? I can't see him!"
The stands on the other side were bustling with noise, as everyone chattered and celebrated, arguing about what dishes and drinks would be added to the evening banquet.
Lockhart, however, was like an ant on a hot pan, rubbing his hands together and craning his neck to look towards the entrance of the maze.
After holding back for a while, he pulled Moody aside and whispered, "Alastor, do you think Harry and the others might have already started fighting?"
Before Moody could reply, Grindelwald chuckled and said, "Don't be so nervous, Mr. Lockhart."
"The reason Albus brought so many people was not because Voldemort was strong, but because he was good at running away."
Hermione remained silent beside Grindelwald, her eyes fixed on the scene, caressing the Death Journal in her arms.
In the midst of the chaos, a sharp sound suddenly burst forth from mid-air, like a hundred-foot-deep glacier suddenly cracking, or like a glass cup falling to the ground.
The clear, sharp sound pierced everyone's ears, suppressing all the noise in the room.
The students were all taken aback, turning their heads to look around, searching for the source of the sound.
Just as they were wondering, a strange shout came from the crowd: "Look up at the sky!" and hundreds of heads turned up in unison.
Suddenly, a silver line appeared in the sky, more than ten feet long and as thin as a hair, shining brightly with white light.
Above the crack, dozens of black stars swirled around it. Upon closer inspection, they turned out to be dozens of wizards riding flying brooms.
Hermione frowned slightly, looked up at it closely for a moment, and hesitated before saying, "That's... Hogwarts' protective spell?"
"Click!"
Then came another deafening ripping sound, and a hole the size of a bowl suddenly appeared in the sky.
McGonagall jumped to her feet, pressed her wand to her throat, and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Enemy attack!"
"They're Death Eaters!"
As soon as the shout was uttered, the entire Quidditch arena erupted in chaos. Screams, shoving, and panicked people created a frenzy.
Hermione's jaw muscles twitched, and she abruptly turned to stare at Grindelwald, spitting out through gritted teeth, "Now is the time for you to keep your promise."
Having said that, he grabbed Grindelwald's sleeve and pulled him away.
The old man staggered after him, while Moody stood frozen in place like a wooden or clay sculpture, lost in thought, and did not stop him.
The officials from the Ministry of Magic had already panicked and were frantically trying to escape, surrounding Fudge like a star.
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang's students, like bees and ants in a swarm, stumbled and rushed around the seats.
The Hogwarts heroes gritted their teeth, each drew their wands, and cast spells into the crack in mid-air.
"Retreat! Retreat back to the castle!"
"Ragnarok Knights, charge forward! Shoot that Death Eater to smithereens! Suppress the spell!"
"Wait, didn't that Death Eater die in Azkaban?!"
Although the crowd on this side was shouting urgently, the crack in the sky seemed to fester like a festering sore, widening and widening.
Then a dark figure landed first—it was Bellatrix. This woman had disheveled hair, her eyes gleaming with malice, and she was pointing her wand wildly.
Three flashes of green light appeared in quick succession, and before the three Beauxbatons students could even dodge, they collapsed to the ground like withered grass, motionless.
Upon seeing such a tragic scene, Lockhart's legs went weak, and he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
He quickly lowered his head, closed his eyes tightly, and clung tightly to Moody's legs, his teeth chattering as he said, "Ah, Alastor! We have to go!"
"There are too many Death Eaters! We need to hide!"
He called out several times, but Moody remained motionless and silent, as if cast in iron.
After a while, I suddenly felt a deathly silence around me. Just moments ago, the place was bustling with noise, but now it was completely quiet.
Lockhart heard no sound all around him, and cautiously opened his eyes a crack, peeking through Moody's legs. He saw two deathly pale feet, veins bulging, and not a trace of blood.
He shuddered, and shakily looked up, only to meet Voldemort's narrow eyes.
The Dark Lord lowered his head, a wicked smile creeping across his lips as he looked at him with mockery.
Seven or eight Death Eaters had already formed a tight encirclement, laughing and saying, "Haha! Master, he's scared out of his wits!"
"No, it's already come out!"
"Hahahaha! What a strong, pungent smell!"
The students had long since dispersed, leaving only the Death Eaters' continued wild laughter. Voldemort gently raised his withered hand, and the laughter abruptly ceased.
He waved his hand again, and Moody stood up like a puppet, took a step and walked straight out, his footsteps thumping on the ground.
Lockhart sat slumped in place, his neck stiff and sore from looking up, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and he couldn't utter a single word.
I've been scammed; it's a double scam!
Alastor has been cursed with a soul-stealing spell!
Harry—Harry is dead?!
Voldemort glanced at the yellow stain on the ground, his face showing disgust, and took two steps back.
With another flick of the wand, Lockhart felt his limbs and bones become uncontrollable. His arms flailing and his legs kicking wildly, yet he was still lifted up and stood upright in front of Voldemort.
Noodles facing noodles, eyes facing eyes, Lockhart was so frightened he almost peed a few more drops.
Voldemort said calmly, "Don't be nervous, my dear Gilderoy."
"I won't hurt you, I just have a few questions I'm curious about."
Upon hearing this, Lockhart felt a sudden sense of relief, as if he had just received a pardon before being executed. He felt a surge of heat rising from his dantian, warming his entire body.
"What did you mean when you told Moody that night that you were thinking about Harry Potter's origins?"
"Hmm? What secrets is my little Potter hiding?"
Upon hearing this, Lockhart felt as if he had been doused with cold water; his mind went blank, and all he could hear was a buzzing sound, as if a million golden bees were swarming around him.
The warmth that had just risen vanished instantly, leaving my entire body stiff, as if I had fallen naked into an ice cave in the dead of winter.
He tried to avoid Voldemort's gaze, but his eyelids felt as if they were weighed down by a thousand-pound gate, and he couldn't move.
All his joints were immobile, except for his mouth, which could still open and close. He made a few gurgling sounds in his throat, but could not utter any coherent words.
Harry isn't British, no, he might not be. It wasn't me who said that; it was that Chinese man, Liu Tao, who said it. He suspects Harry. I know nothing about him.
These hundreds of thoughts clashed wildly in his chest, like hot oil frying his heart; he wished he could just tell them now to save his life.
"I—want—to duel with you."
As soon as these words were spoken, the entire hall fell silent. Even the Death Eaters' breathing stopped for a moment before they burst into a deafening, grotesque laugh.
The Death Eaters laughed so hard they were doubled over, but they all stared at Voldemort.
The demon and Lockhart locked eyes for a moment, the demon showing a hint of interest. With a flick of his wand, Lockhart fell to his knees with a thud, only then able to move his limbs.
"Very interesting, Mr. Lockhart. It's been a long time since anyone challenged me to a duel!"
Voldemort retreated more than ten feet backward, then swept his wand across the ground, sending the surrounding benches and stands flying in all directions with a "rumble," clearing a large open space.
"Pick up the wand!"
Lockhart!
Lockhart's forehead was covered in cold sweat, and he frantically dug at the ground, his mind racing with thoughts.
Why did I say that? I shouldn't have offended that mysterious person. Am I going to die? Can I be forgiven if I kowtow to him? Am I out of my mind?
In his panic, he suddenly remembered what Harry had said in the headmaster's office that day.
I would never shirk my duty, even if it meant certain death.
He gripped his wand tightly, struggled to his feet, rubbed his eyes, and saw Voldemort still standing ten feet away, his black robes fluttering, as if he hadn't woken from a nightmare.
"Very good, now we need to bow to each other. You won't be as ill-mannered as Potter, will you?"
After saying this, Voldemort leaned forward slightly.
Before Lockhart could react, he flicked his wand upwards again, and Lockhart felt as if a hand was pressing down on the back of his neck, pressing his spine down like a shrimp with a "crack".
"Very well, now let's duel."
Voldemort held his wand upright in front of his chest and said mockingly, "Come on, Mr. Lockhart, let me see how you defeat me. I'll allow you to cast the spell first."
"Defeating me, the Dark Lord, will surely be enough for you to write millions of words praising yourself."
"I bet it'll sell way more than your Harry Potter series, don't you think? Hmm?"
The Death Eaters around them were laughing so hard they almost fell over; some were rubbing their stomachs, others were wiping away tears, all saying they wanted to see a good show.
Before the laughter had even subsided, Lockhart trembled as he raised his wand, pointing it directly at Voldemort's head.
Unexpectedly, the tip of the staff trembled and turned, pressing against his own chin.
"One, forget everything, and all is emptiness!"
A flash of white light streaked past, and Lockhart's eyes instantly lost their luster, leaving him dumbfounded. All the memories related to Harry in his mind vanished without a trace, like ice melted in boiling water.
The laughter in the arena stopped abruptly, and a dark cloud gathered on Voldemort's face. He no longer cared about dueling etiquette.
He swept his black robe up and strode forward, even stepping on the urine stains on the ground with a "splat" sound.
The withered hand gripped Lockhart's neck like a vise, choking him until his throat made a series of gurgling sounds, his face turned a deep purplish-red, and his legs kicked wildly off the ground.
Voldemort pressed his wand against Lockhart's sun, determined to break the Oblivion Curse.
Unexpectedly, after a short while, Voldemort's face became even more bloodshot.
"Excellent, Mr. Lockhart."
"On the Forgotten Charm, I, Voldemort, acknowledge you as the strongest."
After saying that, he glanced at the Death Eaters beside him who were just laughing maniacally.
"At least much stronger than this bunch of trash."
The followers of the Death Eaters trembled at this insult and dared not laugh even a little.
Voldemort felt a surge of rage, as if he had swallowed a maggot. He suddenly withdrew his hand and flung Lockhart to the ground, his mouth agape as he gasped for breath.
Once he had caught his breath and his vision had cleared, he saw Voldemort's wand pointing directly at his own head.
In that instant, only one thought remained in my chaotic mind.
It would be great if this could be written into a book.
"Completely crushed to pieces."
"Bang!"
Gilderoy Lockhart died at the age of 30 at the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium.