Chapter 180: Voldemort

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In the magical world, death is not the end of the journey but the beginning of another great adventure. For this reason, ghosts lingering at the edge of life and death, unable to move forward or retreat, are truly pitiable. Rejected by the realm of the dead and unwelcome among the living, these beings trapped between worlds may possess unnaturally long "lives," but such longevity is nothing less than a curse. 

Even more pathetic than ghosts are the lingering souls that fail to perish, only to be caught and held captive. Perhaps being completely consumed in Fawkes' blazing, golden-red flames would have been the most merciful ending for Voldemort's remnant soul at this moment. 

And why not? 

Fawkes, perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, tilted his head inquisitively, curiously observing the scene. However, Dumbledore gently covered the phoenix's eyes with his hand. 

"Too filthy, Fawkes. If you look too long, you'll go blind." 

"Coo?" The phoenix blinked in confusion at Dumbledore, its expression puzzled by the complex, unreadable look on the old wizard's face. 

Just one minute earlier— 

The fragment of Voldemort's soul that Harry had captured was already on the verge of complete exhaustion. The damage inflicted by the phoenix's flames had been severe, and earlier, Voldemort had further divided this fragment, expending much of its magical reserves. In such a weakened state, he was no better off than when he had clung to survival in the Albanian forests. No powerful spell was needed to finish him; even a couple of simple Stunning Spells would drain the last remnants of his magic. And without magic to sustain it, the soul fragment would crumble and vanish entirely. 

However, since he had been captured, Voldemort no longer had the option to choose his fate. Death was inevitable; maintaining his current form consumed magic, and the remaining reserves would not last long. Still, two or three days of survival were within the realm of possibility. 

Upon realizing this under Dumbledore's guidance, Harry quickly abandoned his initial plan to "play around" slowly. 

"Hello? Professor Grindelwald?" 

Harry pulled out a magical "phone" he'd obtained from Leon, an alchemical device resembling a two-way mirror that allowed two people to see each other no matter how far apart they were. Unlike a two-way mirror, however, this device could also transmit sound. Due to the lack of magical "communication stations" in England, the device relied on portable relay units carried by the Umbrella Squad, resulting in a somewhat degraded connection. 

"Can you see me? Can you hear me? If you've been kidnapped, blink twice." 

Harry gestured wildly at Grindelwald's image. After about ten seconds of stillness, the image suddenly fast-forwarded, flickering through an array of absurd facial expressions. 

"It was lagging earlier. The signal here isn't great." 

Grindelwald's familiar voice came through, though he appeared to be on the other side of the globe, with blue skies, white clouds, and a blazing sun visible behind him. 

"It seems you've handled things, Harry. Everything went well, I presume?" 

"Better than expected! Fawkes was a huge help," Harry said with a grin. "Look at what I've got here." 

Harry opened his palm to reveal a tiny figure, about fifteen centimeters tall, bound tightly in gray threads using a tortoiseshell binding technique. The miniature Voldemort struggled and writhed in Harry's hand, his mouth covered with gray tape. Despite his obvious fury, he had no way to voice it. 

"A live Voldemort! Sure, he's only got a shelf life of two or three days, but he's a lot of fun. Listen—he even curses!" 

As he spoke, Harry tore the tape from the tiny figure's mouth, unleashing a torrent of expletives. On the other side of the connection, Grindelwald froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. 

"Hahaha! Save him for me! Don't you dare finish him off before I get back. This is way better than that rat you caught last time!" 

Meanwhile, Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He knew nothing good would come of these two troublemakers joining forces. 

"Listen, Professor, Voldemort's research into soul forms is impressive. He's managed to give his soul a tangible, physical body. If we can figure out how he did it, your Obscurus project could get a 2.0 update. It'd be groundbreaking!" 

"Not to mention, this simulated body retains all the sensations of a normal human body. I fed him a drop of Snape's aromatic potion earlier, and he actually gagged. The potion didn't get absorbed—otherwise, he wouldn't still be cursing—but the taste definitely registered!" 

"Oh, and this is the best part—his soul can mimic reality to a stunning degree. That's the most fascinating thing about it." 

As Harry spoke, the tiny Voldemort in his palm suddenly froze. 

"Kill me! Just kill me already!" Voldemort screamed, his shrill voice utterly devoid of the dignity befitting a Dark Lord. "I'll tell you where my Horcruxes are! It's Slytherin's ring! Dumbledore! Albus Dumbledore! Professor Dumbledore!" 

His terrified gaze darted toward Dumbledore, who had turned away, massaging his temple in frustration. 

"Please, just keep that monster away from me! I beg—mmph!" 

Annoyed by the noise, Harry promptly slapped the tape back over Voldemort's mouth, silencing him. The tiny soul fragment immediately went quiet. 

"The structure of his soul is incredibly intricate," Harry said, examining the figure in his hand. "Even as a fragment, it can perfectly replicate a human form, down to the clothing. I'm not sure if this is because of the Horcruxes or something else." 

Harry added a comment before gripping the tiny figure by the waist with his left hand. With a mischievous grin, he used the fingers of his right hand to lift the hem of the figure's robes, tugging down its miniature pants. 

The old and the young mischief-makers exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting. In that instant, identical wicked smiles spread across their faces. 

"Too filthy, Fawkes. If you look too long, you'll go blind," Dumbledore muttered, pressing the curious phoenix's head back down before taking a few steps to the side. 

"Oh dear, Tom, is this why you never dated anyone?" 

Harry easily subdued the struggling figurine with one finger, his eyes narrowing into crescent moons while his smirking lips curved upward. The exaggerated expression on his face was absurd, but undeniably sinister. 

"Professor Grindelwald, allow me to teach you a masterful technique," Harry suddenly announced with a dead-serious expression. 

"I'm all ears," Grindelwald replied with equal solemnity. 

"This move is called—" 

The muffled protests of Voldemort's soul pierced through the tape, followed by two sinister chuckles echoing in the night sky. 

"We've only got two or three days to play," Grindelwald remarked. 

"Not enough. Definitely not enough," Harry agreed. 

"Exactly. We went through all this trouble to catch him," Grindelwald mused. 

"Then let's solve this problem. Wait for me to return," Grindelwald declared. 

"How, exactly?" 

"We could build him a body. That should give us at least another month," Grindelwald suggested. 

"Brilliant! Truly brilliant!" 

"Oh, it's just a little trick. Hardly worth mentioning. Hahaha!" 

"I, Harry Potter, hereby declare you the ultimate mastermind." 

"And I, Grindelwald, crown you the most despicable brat." 

"Oh, you're too kind. Too kind." 

"Speaking of which, kid, I've got news on Black—the person you asked me to track down." 

"Oh? I thought you'd forgotten. It's been two months." 

"North America's been in chaos lately. He got caught up in it. My people only just managed to get the information." 

"Is he in danger?" 

"As long as he doesn't run around recklessly." 

"Then he's doomed," Harry said, narrowing his eyes as his mind began working rapidly. 

"Can we still save him?" 

"Not sure. North America isn't my territory, and the Magical Congress over there would love nothing more than to tear me and my followers to shreds. My resources are limited." 

"Go find Al. He's respected everywhere." 

"Can't chat anymore, kid. I've got things to handle. But if you find more fun stuff like this, you'd better contact me," Grindelwald said before ending the call. 

Under the night sky, Harry shoved the figurine into his pocket with a satisfied smirk. 

"What an entertaining night, wouldn't you agree, Professor Dumbledore?" 

(End of Chapter)