A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts
Chapter 650: The Disappearance of Riddle

Ron entered the common room, glancing in a familiar direction where Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were gathered. He made his way over, finding Hermione engrossed in her book of ancient runes, a long string of them looped around her wrist like a bracelet.

The runes didn't actually do anything; Hermione just liked stringing them together for amusement.

Every now and then, she glanced over at the table, watching the other three playing Wizard's Duel. The tiny wizard figurine in front of Harry sat limply in the air, two warriors poised to attack at any moment.

Ron stood nearby, catching Ginny's eye, but she ignored him, urging Harry to play his card.

"Trying to cheat again?" Ginny said gruffly.

Ron hesitated, then pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and laid it on the table. "Professor Heap asked me to give you this. You better take a look... I-I asked around for you, shouldn't be dangerous."

"What nonsense are you talking, Ron? How could Harry be in danger?" Ginny scowled at him.

Harry took the note, scanning it with a slight frown. "What's Professor up to, Harry?" Hermione asked, sensing something off in Ron's demeanor.

"Nothing, just about the Patronus," Harry gave her a 'we'll talk later' look, not wanting Ginny to know. He tucked the note away, "Um, thanks, Ron. Maybe—"

"No, thanks," Ron mumbled vaguely, "I'm a bit tired." He shuffled off to the dormitories, and after a quiet moment, Ginny's urging voice followed. Harry responded, focusing on his cards, and his figurine let out a wail as it was defeated by a joint attack from Ginny and Neville.

The next day, Felix and Dumbledore arrived early at Classroom 7, having prepared everything beforehand.

Not far beneath the Basilisk, there was a magically-shrouded area, resembling a glowing cage. This was their achievement.

"Time's nearly up, I'll go check," Felix said, indeed finding Harry outside, obliviously looking around, assuming the professors would only appear from the sides of the corridor, not noticing the closed door behind him. He was surprised when Felix called from inside.

"It's for your protection," Felix pointed at the birdcage-like magical structure, and Harry uncomfortably stepped in. He looked up at the arcs of magic descending from above, feeling akin to Hedwig.

Felix and Dumbledore exchanged a glance, beginning their spellwork.

The giant Basilisk began to move slowly, its mouth gaping open as Voldemort materialized. He looked no different, the same evil, half-dead appearance.

Two beams shot from Felix's eyes, causing Voldemort's crimson eyes to snap open, his voice filled with hatred as he screamed, "Felix Heap—!" Meanwhile, deep within his memories, Riddle felt his world of thirty years begin to collapse.

"Professor Riddle!" a student shouted in panic.

"Silence," Riddle said with feigned calm, though he was internally horrified, his thoughts lagging. He looked up, seeing the Hogwarts castle split open from the fourth-floor Dark Arts classroom, revealing a deep blue sky.

The next moment, even the sky was divided in half, a menacing crimson light pouring through the crack, emanating from the grotesque serpent-like face of a man, the red light emanating from his eyes. He heard a voice filled with unparalleled rage, "Felix Heap!"

Who was that? Riddle was momentarily bewildered. Then a flood of information came rushing in; he almost instantly knew everything.

Was he... just a memory? Riddle found it absurd.

Harry was on the verge of losing his voice from nervousness, his fists clenched unsure what to do. To him, Professor Heap had merely glanced at Voldemort, and Voldemort, despite being confined by the Basilisk guardian, erupted with powerful dark magic.

The surroundings were corroded, poisoned, pitch-black like midnight.

He recalled Professor Heap's earlier comment about Voldemort not being pleased if he knew; now Harry thought that statement was an understatement. Voldemort was livid. Perhaps he had never suffered such humiliation in his life.

The cages around Harry lit up first, followed by the Basilisk guardian. The figures of Felix and Dumbledore flickered in the darkness. Felix spread his hand, and two Horcruxes hung in the air. Voldemort immediately sensed it, glaring at the locket and cup.

"Dumbledore? No, you're Felix Heap," a young voice came from Voldemort's mouth, filled with disbelief, but in a moment, it was overshadowed by a gloomy, hoarse, and mad voice.

"Heap, Dumbledore, you won't! I will never submit to your desires!"

Voldemort was still restricted, but he wasn't powerless. For a great wizard like him, given time, any restraint was imperfect, always a way to bypass or break free. Especially since he had come into contact with some of Riddle's research on the guardian, it was a heaven-sent opportunity for escape. For this, he even abandoned the idea of directly obliterating what he saw as entirely false memories.

"Riddle, this is your only chance."

Felix conveyed a thought, urging him to seize the power of the Horcruxes and, with their help, reverse the fusion of Voldemort. Riddle's 'years of' research on the guardian would serve as bait, ensuring Voldemort wouldn't immediately strike.

With a "snap snap" sound from Felix's hand, the cup distorted. It was pure physical force, having no effect on the Horcrux whatsoever, not even crushing it to dust, but it undeniably awakened the dormant soul fragments within.

A billowing black smoke seeped through the cracks of his fingers, condensing into a young, handsome, and evil face. It hesitated, possessing only instinctual consciousness, feeling the command from its source, beckoning it back into the body.

Voldemort let out a painful howl.

Because Voldemort intentionally sought to assimilate the knowledge carried by the newly formed personality, combined with their intrinsic unity, the deepest secrets of Voldemort's heart were laid bare before Riddle, filled with unbridled slaughter, cruel experiments, and twisted desires for torture and domination.

Riddle was horrified by the evil past of 'another him,' was this what his normal trajectory led to?

To some extent, Felix's plan worked.

Under his influence, or perhaps threat, Riddle had never been away from the school for long periods. Apart from occasionally plotting what he considered his 'evil rule plan', most of his time was spent teaching students and dealing with the Ministry of Magic. Whatever his inner thoughts, those cruel intentions never materialized. Right now, he felt like he was in a ghostly realm, a deep emotion rising uncontrollably from within.

A surge of black mist burst forth from the Hufflepuff Cup, heading straight for Voldemort.

"No—I don't regret it—never—"

Dumbledore raised his wand, uttering complex incantations, while Felix aided the weakened Riddle with memory magic. Together, they momentarily suppressed Voldemort's will, giving Riddle a temporary advantage, but he didn't feel victorious.

"Dumbledore, is all of this just a sham?" he harshly interrogated Felix.

Felix remained silent.

"What am I to you, a mere tool?" he shouted again, his voice clearer, evidently drawing some power from the soul shard in the locket, which began emitting copious amounts of black mist.

Harry collapsed suddenly, convulsing.

The scar on his forehead seared with intense pain, as if some creature within him had come alive, stretching its limbs. His mind was a whirlwind of agony. Harry pounded his skull, feeling as if the creature within wanted to burst through his skull. Rolling black smoke poured from his scar, nostrils, and mouth.

At that moment, the birdcage-like space he was in sheltered him. At the convergence of magical energies, a black gemstone ring sparkled.

"Tell me, Dumbledore!" Riddle's questioning echoed in the room.

"If you must know—" Felix's voice emanated from the black fog, "you are the most special student I've ever taught, a soldier I've nurtured and propelled into battle with my own hands."

The black fog surged like waves.

Harry could no longer make out their conversation. The soul of the locket returned to Voldemort's body first. But then, in a desperate move, Voldemort, in dire straits, chose to gamble.

He personally obliterated his own two soul fragments.

The black mist from Harry's forehead blinked back into his body. "If you have the guts, kill him, kill that boy!" Voldemort's snake-like face contorted in a furious scream. "He's the last one, the last one! Dumbledore, Snape, you must be as ruthless as I am!"

Voldemort's counterattack was swift and fierce, catching them off guard.

"Albus—" Felix said, opening his mind palace, a magic useless against Voldemort's soul but effective for memories. Meanwhile, Dumbledore controlled Nagini to swallow Voldemort.

Voldemort roared madly inside Nagini, struggling desperately, but his voice grew fainter and fainter, gradually fading.

Felix closed his eyes, seeing numerous stars dragging silver trails in front of him, converging in one direction. After a while, he reached out and gathered them. When he opened his eyes, he saw Dumbledore carefully examining Harry.

"Is there hope for him?" Dumbledore asked softly as he checked Riddle.

Felix shook his head.

"Sometimes, we have no other choice," Dumbledore said solemnly.

Felix smiled. "No need to console me, I know what I'm doing and I'm prepared for the consequences... How's Harry?"

"Youth is a wonderful thing, always unafraid of lacking courage," Dumbledore said wistfully. Then, with a serious expression, he added, "Not good, the soul fragment is still active. Voldemort acted too decisively. Even if he had hesitated for a moment longer, he might have succeeded. The problem now is that the soul fragment is still active and must be dealt with quickly... Let's go to the infirmary first."

The old man gazed deeply at Harry.

Black wisps still oozed from Harry's forehead, the lightning-shaped scar glowing blood-red. Dumbledore felt as if he were transported back to over a decade ago, the scene before him merging with the memory of Hagrid handing him a baby in a bundle.

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