Chapter 156: Self-Destruction
Madam Mary possessed the bloodline of the "Time Explorer" Yaxley family.
It was a bloodline she detested.
She had never imagined she would use this power from her bloodline. Of course, this also had to do with her social standing, making it difficult to access the Time-Turners strictly regulated by the Ministry of Magic.
But she hadn't realized that in the lost part of her past life, she had actually used such an ability.
Yes, even if she was unwilling to admit it, she genuinely felt her sensitivity to time.
The current time...
...was a time before her birth.
Why would she return to this past? She didn't know.
She didn't even know why she was on this small island in Ireland.
Was there anything special about this place?
She soon found the answer: she saw a witch, cloaked in burlap and exuding the dark magic aura of a banshee, secretly watching a very handsome wizard from a corner.
That witch...
...was her mother!
A witch who had self-taught herself using various obscure and dubious magical materials, ultimately transforming herself into something neither human nor ghost.
The wizarding world isn't just centered around British magical society, nor is it merely about the American magical congress's rise. Wizarding societies in various corners of the world each face their own challenges.
Wizards from Haiti often wander the world, fleeing their impoverished nation, searching for a place to barely settle. Everyone struggles to find a final resting place for their soul, living very difficult lives.
In their culture, seeking the protection of powerful individuals is a normal practice, but unfortunately, her grandmother's reliance was ultimately betrayed, and her mother continued this same mistake.
Madam Mary used to be curious about who her father was when she was a child, but by the time she grew up, her mother had already gone completely mad and could no longer communicate.
She wondered if this missing memory segment was the memory of finding her father?
So she watched the handsome wizard with a hint of vigilance, her brows slightly furrowed, observing the unfolding events.
Then she saw Corban Yaxley!
This evil wizard, who had stolen this segment of her life's memories, appeared beside the handsome wizard, looking obsequious, which surprised her.
Haitian wizards revered power. Madam Mary didn't need to look at her mother in the corner to know what expression she would have at this moment.
There was nothing wrong with pursuing power. Even Corban Yaxley, as noble as he was from the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, hadn't he become that man's lackey?
She quietly followed them and soon arrived at a pub.
The island's population wasn't very large, and this pub was practically the liveliest spot for most of the island's residents. She quietly hid in the crowd, straining her ears to listen to Corban and the wizard's conversation, and heard a name she could never have imagined—Voldemort!
The Dark Lord!
She stared wide-eyed at her mother, who was secretly peering into the pub from outside the door, and swallowed, feeling a surge of absurdity.
How could this be!
This was too outrageous!
She suppressed the turmoil in her heart, carefully observing the wizard whom Corban called Voldemort, wondering if this could truly be the infamous Dark Lord from history.
Soon, she saw another familiar face, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.
Professor Lockhart strode in and had an argument with Voldemort. Immediately after, Voldemort drew his wand, cut off his pinky finger, and threw it to Professor Lockhart, seemingly indicating a complete severing of ties.
Professor Lockhart appeared very angry, picking up the blood-stained finger, trembling with rage.
The scene before her was so absurd that Madam Mary was stunned. Was Professor Lockhart like this in private? Was Voldemort like this when he was young?
She didn't know. She tried to communicate with the confused mystical power around Professor Lockhart and began to secretly monitor the development of everything.
Finally, in the afternoon, she saw Professor Lockhart rush to Voldemort's wooden hut. The two argued again, and another familiar figure appeared: Hermione, one of Professor Lockhart's students, also joined the argument.
"What do you know?" Voldemort said to the 'siblings' in a low voice. "I am forever anxious about my own death and eternity. I wish to become a magical master like Merlin, to be remembered, not to waste my life in mundane happiness like you."
"You are indeed kind and eager to help everyone, but looking at your numb and foolish demeanor always makes me feel ashamed that you were once my good friend."
Professor Lockhart seemed very angry, and his sister Hermione sneered at Voldemort, saying, "You're wrong!"
"Merlin is remembered not because of his magic, but because of who he was. The magic Merlin excelled in is rarely mentioned in later generations; people prefer to speak of the great life of this magical master."
This evidently gave Professor Lockhart a hint. He told his sister to leave first, then picked up a chair and sat opposite Voldemort, looking as if he wouldn't stop until he made his point clear.
"I understand you too well, my friend, but I must warn you, you've taken the wrong path!"
Lockhart looked at Voldemort with a serious expression. "You know this truth yourself, don't you? But your heart is actually full of despair. Because you've never felt love, you know the void within you, and your magical path can never be complete..."
Voldemort's expression was somewhat peculiar, yet he seemed very agitated, saying, "What can I do? I tried hard once, trying to get close to a great wizard, but I found that the closer I thought I got to him, the further away I always became."
"I also tried to find my blood relatives, but my uncle was mad and venomous towards everyone, including me, and my Muggle father despised my mother. All of this makes one despair."
"Ha, I knew it!" Lockhart sneered. "Your magic seems to pursue eternity and flee death, but in reality, your heart has long despaired. Rather, you want to completely destroy yourself."
Voldemort merely looked at him indifferently, a cold sneer on his face. "Oh, you understand me so well, do you?"
"Of course, no one understands you better than I do!" Lockhart waved his arms, speaking with great agitation. "You never intended to do this, but you did it anyway, didn't you?"
"This tendency towards self-destruction will soon evolve into an evil. If you leave this island with that outsider, Corban, you will only bring war and death to others, leading more people to self-destruction with you!"
"You are always so clever, always able to clearly perceive the contradictions in this world, knowing what to propose to fully activate this train carrying the world towards destruction."
"You know what kind of contradictions this world has, and what slogans to propose that will make everyone believe."
"But, my friend, you cannot do this. You are squandering your chance for redemption!"
Voldemort said nothing, merely listening with great interest to the other's grand discourse.
It was quite amusing. The Horcrux Tom Riddle, with his fractured soul, influenced by the show-off peacock's body, actually revealed his hand himself.
Despair for life and eternity, thus leading to self-destruction?
Old Voldy, now I've truly got your tail, haven't I?
....
For advanced chapters:
Get early access to 90 advanced chapters before anyone else!
👉 Join now: patreon.com/Chaos_God