Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

Chapter 860 - 231: Submit or Die?

Voldemort watched Harry fall to the ground, life snuffed out, and was slightly stunned himself, as if he hadn’t expected the Killing Curse to bring down this boy—his fated opponent—so easily.

But very quickly, the corners of his mouth began to twist, first a neurotic twitch, then a suppressed snicker, finally swelling into hysterical laughter.

"Eh-hahahahahahaha..."

The Dark Lord spread his arms, his pale face full of wild ecstasy, and shouted, "Do you see it? Harry Potter died by my hand! He’s dead!"

The Death Eaters seemed infected by their master’s mood and burst into raucous laughter. They raised their Magic Wands and green fireworks exploded across the vaulted ceiling, bathing the entire church in an eerie emerald glow.

Suddenly, Voldemort’s mad laughter cut off. He looked down at Harry with a condescending gaze, sick pleasure surfacing on his face:

"Savior? Boy Who Lived? Hahahaha... in the end he’s nothing but a pathetic worm lying on the floor. I hope when he meets the God of Death in Hell, he won’t still be fooled by Dumbledore’s bullshit!"

He suddenly raised his voice, looking at the Death Eater holding up the badge, scarlet eyes brimming with smugness:

"You’re watching this, aren’t you, Dumbledore? Your golden boy is lying here like a dead dog—Crucio!"

He snapped his Magic Wand in a vicious arc, and a beam of light shot toward the corpse on the ground!

"Clang—"

The crisp clash of Spell and metal made everyone’s teeth ache. Voldemort’s Spell was deflected and blasted straight into one of the onlooking Death Eaters.

"Aaaaah!!!!"

The tall man immediately curled up on the ground, howling, as if suffering unimaginable agony.

Voldemort’s narrow eyes narrowed even further, his smile freezing; every twisted trace on his face hardened into icy killing intent.

The thing that had blocked his Spell was actually a broken, half-round iron ring.

"Click!"

Another iron ring fell to the floor, its crisp metallic clatter jarringly sharp in the great hall.

Vid hopped lightly down from the chair. There were still red marks circling his wrists, but they didn’t affect the fluidity of his movements in the slightest.

He lowered his head to look at Harry in front of him.

[Harry Potter].

The name hadn’t vanished... the boy was still alive.

He just didn’t know whether the boy was trapped at that "soul station" right now, not yet awake.

"Stop!" The scar-faced man suddenly lunged, reaching for him. "How did you—"

His words cut off. Vid only gave a casual flick of his hand, and the nearly two-meter-tall brute was sent flying helplessly backward, like a sandbag being tossed aside.

Voldemort raised his Magic Wand.

"Boy." His voice hissed like a snake. "You would defy the Dark Lord? Do you want to die like him?"

The Death Eaters held their breath, waiting for this clueless brat to have his breath snatched away by the Killing Curse.

The boy standing beside the corpse spread his hands. In that moment, he almost seemed unconcerned about Harry Potter on the ground, childish face showing innocent puzzlement.

"I wanted to ask, that ’poppet’ of mine you mentioned earlier..." He tilted his head and asked, "What is that?"

Voldemort’s killing intent stalled for a beat, and the surrounding Death Eaters also fell briefly silent.

"You are not yet worthy to question the great Dark Lord, Vid Gray!" A Death Eater stepped out and barked, "Stand quietly to the side, or you will be severely punished!"

If they hadn’t all seen the footage of Voldemort inviting Vid Gray during the livestream, what he spat out right now wouldn’t be a scolding but a simple, straightforward Crucio.

All the "Champions" that had dared interfere when Voldemort was punishing his enemies were long dead and buried, with grass two meters high on their graves.

"That’s right!" another rasped. "Don’t act on your own, brat! The fact you’re still alive is already a mercy granted by our master."

Voldemort raised his hand, and the clamorous Death Eaters instantly shut their mouths. The Dark Lord looked at the boy who barely reached his thigh and slowed his tone as he said:

"Poppets... are the soldiers you will create for me in the future—soldiers that feel no pain and fear no death. That is the value of your existence."

Then he glanced at Harry Potter on the ground, thinking he’d discerned the child’s thoughts.

"Are you pitying this corpse? Because he tried to protect you earlier?"

"If so, then you are mistaken."

Voldemort took two steps forward and said with disdain, "Harry Potter is nothing more than a Puppet someone else groomed. He’s been so addled by Dumbledore’s web of lies that he actually believes himself some Savior and dared to defy me!"

"But you must understand, the gap between his power and mine is like that between the sun in the sky and a single firefly. He foolishly came charging in to challenge me, and the only possible outcome was death!"

"But you are different."

The Dark Lord paused, then said, "You are gifted, and intelligent. As long as you join me, you can wield power far more reliable than any poppet—and I, the great Dark Lord, will place you atop the pinnacle of power."

Vid blinked. "Join you? You mean... like them?"

He stretched out his small hand and casually pointed at the Death Eaters around them. "Be some obsequious yes-man, trailing after your Robe? Do they know you don’t even wear pants under that thing?"

He himself didn’t know why he suddenly blurted that out; maybe he’d been influenced by some snarky bullet comments from his previous life, and it just slipped out.

In an instant, Voldemort’s features contorted, terrible rage erupting from him!

The Death Eaters flinched as if they’d been punched, heads snapping down, their bodies seeming to shrink by half.

Yet even shrouded in terror, some of them couldn’t help sneaking a glance at Voldemort’s black Robe, as if trying to see through the fabric and confirm whether he really wasn’t wearing pants inside.

"I’ll ask you one last time, boy." Voldemort ground his teeth, each word squeezed out, "Kneel and submit... or die?"

"That’s it?" Vid chuckled. "So that’s how you recruited all your so-called subordinates? No wonder you keep dying over and over; I’m guessing there aren’t many truly loyal people around you..."

"Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!"

Voldemort didn’t wait for Vid to finish. His Magic Wand slashed through the air, three Spells in rapid succession streaking toward Vid!

"Boom!"

The church windows exploded outward, and a dark green leopard leapt in from outside, roaring as it pounced at Voldemort.

"Aaaaargh—"

A shrill scream tore through the room. A figure writhed madly on the ground, tears and snot spraying everywhere!

Vid blinked, completely unscathed, only a faintly surprised look on his face.

"So... that’s what a poppet is like!"

His eyes curved, and he showed an adorably sweet smile.