Chapter 128: Voldemort Became... (Patreon)

Voldemort was grinding his teeth in fury at Quirrell's deathbed curses.

"Traitor! Before Dumbledore can make a move, I'll drain every last bit of life force from this body!"

For a moment, Voldemort's cackling, Quirrell's agonised screams, and the increasingly laboured yet weakening sound of his breathing intertwined in a bizarre way. If anyone unfamiliar with the situation had walked in, their imagination would have run wild.

Just as Quirrell was cursing at the top of his lungs and Voldemort was laughing the loudest, Elavin finally moved.

"What are you barking about? A dying villain still dares to act so arrogant?"

He closed the distance in a single stride and kicked Voldemort square in the face.

Voldemort let out a muffled grunt, and the life-draining spell was interrupted once again.

"Ice-Make: Sealing Shackles!"

Clank! Clank!

Icy shackles imbued with the property of sealing magical power appeared around Quirrell's neck, wrists, and ankles.

In the Fairy Tail world, there was a man known as the "Winter General" who could create ice shackles that froze thoughts. Once bound by such shackles, the victim would lose the ability to think, becoming a puppet who would answer any question and obey any command.

Drawing on this principle, Elavin had combined Ice-Make Magic, Ice Devil Slayer Magic, and Enchantment Magic to create a spell capable of sealing magical power. Anyone bound by these shackles would be unable to circulate the magical power within their body or cast spells.

Though the recipient of this spell was Quirrell, Voldemort, whose soul was closely connected to Quirrell's body, was naturally affected as well.

Sensing the anomaly, Voldemort grew even more enraged, screaming beneath Elavin's foot.

"Elavin Yakute... you damned brat! Just you wait! Once I recover my strength, I'll make you pay!"

Elavin said nothing, simply continuing to grind Voldemort beneath the sole of his shoe.

"Ha ha ha... Voldemort, look at you now! Serves you right! Elavin, stomp harder!"

Quirrell laughed maniacally, tears streaming down his face.

Though Elavin was stomping on the back of his head, he didn't mind at all. In fact, he found it immensely satisfying. The pent-up frustration of nearly a year vanished in an instant, leaving him feeling completely free.

Elavin glanced at Quirrell in surprise, then stomped even harder.

"Then I won't hold back!"

"Even in this state, you dare to provoke me? You're unbelievably stubborn!"

The first remark was directed at Quirrell. The second was directed at Voldemort.

Voldemort shouted indistinctly, "So what if I provoke you? You still can't kill me! As long as I live, I'll rise again! I cannot be destroyed!"

"I'll show you 'cannot be destroyed'!"

Elavin kept stomping, a cold sneer on his lips. "You think making a few Horcruxes makes you invincible?"

Horcruxes were the secret to Voldemort's immortality.

A Horcrux was created by splitting off a piece of one's soul and attaching it to an object. That object became the Horcrux. As long as a Horcrux remained intact, the wizard would never truly die.

Even if struck by the Killing Curse or the Shattering Curse, even if their body was thrown into lava, sunk to the bottom of the ocean, or buried deep beneath the earth, they would not die.

It served as an anchor, binding the creator's main soul to this world and preventing it from passing on to the afterlife.

Voldemort had created six Horcruxes. As long as even one remained, his main soul would never be destroyed.

The moment the term "Horcrux" was mentioned, the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

"Hor... Horcrux..." Quirrell's eyes widened. "So that's it... that's how he's survived all this time..."

As an outstanding Ravenclaw graduate and Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, he'd naturally heard of Horcrux creation magic. In an instant, many mysteries that had eluded him were finally solved.

But the one who reacted even more strongly was Voldemort himself.

"How... how do you know about my Horcruxes?! There's no way you could know!"

He screamed, his voice finally losing its earlier arrogance.

The reason Voldemort had dared to be so reckless, even after Quirrell had been subdued and had betrayed him at the last moment, was that he had his Horcruxes as a trump card. He knew Elavin couldn't truly kill him.

Even if his soul was tortured and reduced to a mere fragment again, like when Harry Potter had "defeated" him, he still wouldn't die.

In the past, he had spent eleven years skulking in the dark forests of Albania, enduring humiliation and biding his time. In the future, he could spend another eleven, twenty-one, or even thirty-one years waiting for another chance.

One day, he would return to the height of his power.

As long as the secret of his Horcruxes remained hidden.

But the worst-case scenario had happened. The secret of his Horcruxes was exposed, and Voldemort completely lost his composure.

"Oh? Now you're scared? I preferred you when you were all arrogant and defiant. How about going back to that?"

Elavin stopped stomping and sneered down at Voldemort.

Voldemort glared at Elavin with venomous hatred. Then something seemed to occur to him, and he regained his earlier defiant attitude.

"So what if you guessed? Do you know how many Horcruxes I made? Do you know what I turned into Horcruxes? Do you know where I hid them? As long as you can't find and destroy all of them, you can never truly destroy me! I still have a chance to rise again!"

Voldemort laughed again.

Elavin sneered. "Don't worry. Now that you're in my hands, once I hand you over to Dumbledore, he'll have plenty of ways to deal with you."

"Too bad, you can't catch me!"

Voldemort grinned maliciously. "Why do you think I've been talking so much? Did you really think I was just being chatty? I was stalling for time!"

As he spoke, his soul slowly detached from the back of Quirrell's head.

With the Sealing Shackles in place, he could no longer drain Quirrell's life force, but he could choose to sever his connection to this body and find someone else to possess, then drain that new host's life force.

Elavin remained calm, casually pulling a palm-sized, poop-shaped plush toy from his pocket.

"Trying to run?"

"This useless fool has already been exposed. Why would I stay?"

"You're a complete coward!"

"This isn't cowardice. It's knowing when to advance and when to retreat. Only the one who survives to the very end is the true victor!"

As he spoke, Voldemort's soul completely detached from Quirrell.

"Damn brat, I'll remember today's humiliation."

"Next time we meet, I will kill you!"

Voldemort laughed as his soul transformed into a black whirlwind, about to vanish into thin air.

Just then, Elavin struck.

"Did I say you could run?"

"Come back here!"

"Soul Attachment!"

A surge of magic power shot out, quickly catching up with the black whirlwind. Like a gigantic invisible hand, it grabbed Voldemort's fleeing soul, forcibly subdued it in an instant, and stuffed it into that poop-shaped plush toy lying on the floor!

Voldemort: "...?!"