Chapter 191. Hidden Voldemort
"Last question."
Adrian Wesson's expression suddenly turned solemn. "Professor Lockhart, since you weren't being controlled, why did you let the Basilisk continue attacking those innocent students?"
Gilderoy Lockhart was stunned for a moment when he heard Wesson's question.
Right!
Why?
When term started in January, that attack had indeed been carried out under Tom's control, ordering the Basilisk to Petrify a student.
But afterwards, he had clearly already broken free of Tom's control—so why had he still done these things?
"Why… why…" Lockhart kept muttering under his breath, like a man bewitched, his gaze gradually going vacant.
Seeing Lockhart react like this, Wesson also felt something was off.
Very quickly, as if realising something, he rose from his chair and levelled his wand at Lockhart again.
"W-what's wrong?"
Seeing Wesson aiming his wand at him so sternly, Lockhart began to panic. "Did I do something?"
"Drop the act, Tom," Wesson said coldly. "I know you're still here."
"What?" Lockhart was clearly at a loss. "What are you talking about, Professor Wesson? I… I don't understand."
Lockhart's reaction did not seem like a lie.
He really looked as if he knew nothing.
Wesson narrowed his eyes.
He could be nearly certain that Lord Voldemort was inside Lockhart.
But the parasitism ran deeper than expected—even Lockhart hadn't noticed.
Fortunately, the Purifying Apple had ripened long ago, and he currently had plenty of Purification Potion on him.
"I hope you still remember this, Tom."
As Wesson spoke, he took a small golden vial from his robe pocket and waved it before Lockhart's eyes.
Lockhart stared blankly at the golden vial, pure confusion in his eyes. "What's this? A new kind of beauty potion?"
"You'll know soon."
Wesson smiled slightly, uncorked the vial, and held it to Lockhart's lips. "Drink it."
"Could you untie me first?" Lockhart said. "At least let my hands move."
Wesson nodded and withdrew the Devil's Snare vines—since Lockhart didn't even have his wand now, there was no need to worry.
Lockhart, trembling, took the potion from Wesson's hand, sniffed it, tugged at the corner of his mouth, and forced a smile. "Er… can I not drink it?"
"No." Wesson cut him off crisply, prodding forward with his wand in a threatening way. "Drink it, or I'll have the Devil's Snare pour it down for you."
Lockhart glanced at the Devil's Snare swaying at the side and swallowed hard. "All—all right."
He raised the golden vial with shaking hands and was just about to down it in one go—
An abrupt change occurred.
Lockhart's body suddenly began to convulse violently, and he couldn't help dropping the potion.
Wesson flicked his wand, and the vial flew back into his hand before it could hit the ground.
However, Lockhart's abnormal state did not stop.
He let out an inhuman scream, fell to his knees wracked with spasms, and the sight made one's blood run cold.
"No… don't!" He reached a hand out towards Wesson in hysteria. "Help me! Help me!"
Wesson watched the scene in silence.
Soon, Lockhart fell quiet. His body went rigid all of a sudden, his expression froze in an instant, and his head drooped.
When he raised his head again, the panic and fear in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a chill that made one shudder.
"Truly… an unpleasant experience."
Lockhart—or rather, the presence now controlling this body—spoke in a completely unfamiliar, low voice.
He stood up from the floor and tidied his rumpled collar with elegance, moving as calmly as if the earlier chaos had never happened.
"At last we meet," Wesson said softly. "Tom Riddle."
In truth, Wesson felt a touch of lingering fear now.
He had indeed not been prepared to kill Lockhart on the spot. If he had really let Voldemort muddle through and escape outside, it would have been troublesome.
Fortunately, Lockhart had eventually slipped up.
Lockhart was simply too conceited; he had always thought he had seized Voldemort's memories.
But even he himself did not know that Voldemort had long since absorbed a great deal of his life force and transferred from the diary's torn pages into him.
As Wesson had said, Voldemort's tricks were endless; one had to be constantly on guard.
Lockhart had immersed himself in his own "strength," completely unaware his body no longer belonged to him.
Back to the present "Lockhart."
Tom certainly wasn't going to have Lockhart foolishly drink the Purification Potion—he had seen how formidable that potion was.
So he had no choice but to come out early and seize control of Lockhart by force.
"Sir," Tom asked with a hint of puzzlement, "could you tell me why you are so fixated on me?"
Wesson shook his head with a smile. "Because you are Lord Voldemort."
"That's it?" Tom seemed a bit incredulous. "Let me guess—there must be irreconcilable hatred between you and my true self, isn't there?"
From Lockhart's mouth, he had also learned much news of the outside world.
Naturally, he also knew what his true body had done.
"Ah, something like that."
Wesson took two steps forward, pointed his wand at Tom, and said, "Game over, Tom. You can't hide."
To Wesson, Lord Voldemort was very important.
A powerful soul was the key component to awaken his sister.
At present, only Lord Voldemort's soul could be used by Wesson without any psychological burden.
As for other villains' souls, most were not strong enough.
With Wesson's wand aimed at him, Tom's face grew rather ugly, entirely lacking his earlier composure.
He knew that as he was now, he could not defeat the man before him.
Originally, he had wanted to negotiate verbally and make Wesson let him go.
Now, that hope seemed slim.
However, he did still have a way: he only needed to leave this hard-won body and he could flee far away.
It was just that he was not the main soul; although he could cling to a pitiful existence, without a host he would soon dissipate.
Wesson, however, would not give him the chance to run.
The quicker he acted, the fewer the variables.
Wesson suddenly reached into his robe and flung out a large cloud of silvery-grey powder.
It was wood-powder ground from timber with a "spatial" property.
By the way, Wesson's portal was made of this wood.
And the function of this powder was simple—teleportation.
As for the destination, that was naturally his own plantation.
The wood-powder drifted through the air, glittering with a strange silver light.
Tom's pupils contracted sharply. He realised things had taken a bad turn, but it was already too late.
With a pulling sensation, the two vanished from the spot in an instant.
The cellar returned to silence once more.
Like this story Leave a review ; it would really help me out a lot.
Want to Read Ahead in Advance?
Join my Patreon!
+75 Chapters
Support me in
Patreon.com/BestElysium