area51novel Chapter 203 Voldemort Attains Enlightenment and Becomes a True God
Chapter 203 Voldemort Attains Enlightenment and Becomes a True God
Chapter 204 (4k long chapter) Voldemort attains enlightenment and becomes a true god
Picking up where we left off, the Auror used a megaphone spell to send his shout deep into the stone fortress.
But startled seagulls took flight and swooped away, leaving the fortress as deathly silent as an ancient tomb.
About half an incense stick's time later, suddenly a thousand fierce howls poured out from the windows of the stone fortress. Some were screaming madly, some were cursing angrily, and some were wailing, as if the evil ghosts in the eighteen levels of hell had broken free of their shackles and fled to the human world.
Several Aurors felt a chill run down their spines and involuntarily took a half step back, their hearts pounding like drums.
The deafening howl sounded more pleasant to Harry than celestial music. He listened intently for a while, then suddenly burst into three loud laughs.
"Truly, heaven is on my side! All these demons and monsters have gathered here, saving me the trouble of searching for them one by one!"
Having said that, he strode confidently toward the ancient castle.
The Aurors behind them exchanged glances and quickly followed, clutching their wands at their waists.
They had only taken three or five steps when a strange creaking sound was heard, and the two large gates of the ancient castle suddenly swung open.
An old man shakily walked out from behind the door, leaning on a withered wooden cane, his steps unsteady, like a candle flickering in the wind.
Looking at the old man's face, with its layers of wrinkles and deep furrows, he seemed even older than Dumbledore, making one wonder if a gust of cold wind could blow his withered bones away.
The old man rushed forward, beaming with joy, "Ah! Mr. Harry Potter, I've finally been waiting for you!"
"Please forgive me for being a little late; after all, I'm the only one left guarding Azkaban..."
Upon hearing this, Harry thought to himself: This Azkaban is chillingly cold, and even someone as vigorous as me finds it unbearable. It's quite strange that the Ministry of Magic has assigned such an old man, barely alive, to guard it.
Although his mind was filled with doubts, he still clasped his hands in greeting and said, "Greetings, old warden."
"Just call me Old Ike, Mr. Potter."
The old warden introduced himself and led Harry and the group of Aurors into the castle, until they reached the cell closest to the gate.
Once Harry was inside the cell, the lock clicked shut, and the Aurors, seeing their job was done, took their leave, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Harry looked around and saw that the stone walls were slippery and covered with cobwebs, so he strode to the iron fence and said:
"May I ask, Warden, how come I haven't seen even half a Dementor?"
"Ah, Mr. Potter, you should know that even Azkaban is divided into the inner district and the outer district."
"Only those who are truly heinous are imprisoned in the inner wing, guarded by Dementors."
"You're basically being detained, so of course you should stay away from those dark wizards and dark magic creatures."
After saying this, he bowed and said, "Please rest, Mr. Potter. If you would like some late-night snacks, just call me."
The old warden left in a hurry, and Harry sat cross-legged on the hard wooden board, thinking to himself:
I was reckless this time, barging into Azkaban without properly assessing its defenses. Had I known this would happen, I should have asked my godfather to print a map of the prison on my back.
After pondering for a while, he looked up and carefully examined the cells on both sides. The cell on the left was empty, but in the cell on the right, a tattered quilt was bulging, and a figure was curled up in a ball facing the wall, shivering.
As the saying goes, "If something seems out of the ordinary, there must be something fishy going on." Seeing this fellow feigning sleep and acting strangely, Harry knew something was amiss.
He abruptly stood up, strode to the railing, and called out, "Hey you, state your name! What have you done here? Do you recognize me, Harry Potter?"
The quilt remained motionless, instead emitting soft snores, as if the person was fast asleep.
Harry became even more suspicious when he saw that the fellow was pretending to be crazy. He immediately took off his black gloves, spread his five fingers and pressed them against the iron bars.
But then a chilling "sizzle" was heard, and three of the thick iron bars were corroded and broken.
He darted across the gap, ripped open the greasy quilt, grabbed the man by the back of his collar, lifted him up, and shouted:
"I'm going to see what tricks you're up to today!"
By the dim light of the lamps in the corridor, one could see that this person had a pointed mouth, a sunken cheek, and darting eyes. It was none other than Mundungus, who had stolen Slytherin's locket.
The man was covered in sweat and trembling, but he forced a smile and said, "Hi, Mr. Potter, long time no see."
Harry, finding it amusing that it was this habitual thief, loosened his grip and asked, "What kind of filthy scoundrel have you done that you deserve to be locked up in Azkaban?"
Mundungus hurriedly wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and mumbled, "Extort...extort the Ministry of Magic."
Now, dear reader, listen to the whole story: It turns out that the trouble Mundungus committed began with the Quidditch World Cup in August.
That night, the Death Eaters wreaked havoc, setting off countless evil fires that burned down the tents and belongings of onlookers, leaving nothing but white ruins.
The Ministry of Magic then issued a document to assess the losses and demand compensation. Seeing an opportunity, Mundungus also filed a complaint.
You should know that he only picked up a piece of hardwood, brought a tattered quilt, and made a makeshift tent that looked like a thatched hut. Yet he insisted that he had prepared a double-layered blue silk tent that could accommodate twenty people, and demanded ten times the compensation.
This scoundrel's methods were clumsy, and his true colors were soon discovered, leading to his immediate imprisonment.
Harry, upon hearing this, exclaimed in surprise, "That Quidditch World Cup happened three months ago. Although you are guilty, why have you been imprisoned for so long?"
Upon hearing this question, Mundungus's face darkened with anger. "I thought the Ministry of Magic wouldn't be able to find out, so I got a lot of friends to join in the fabrication."
"When it was finally discovered, their statements were filled with my name!"
Harry laughed loudly, "You deserve to suffer the consequences of your own actions, you have no one else to blame!"
Mundungus was slightly annoyed by this rebuke, but dared not argue, and simply retorted with a stiff neck:
"It's alright, it's just going to Azkaban. I've been in there countless times before."
"I know all the guys from both the inner and outer districts."
A glint of light flashed in Harry's eyes. "Is that really true?"
"Of course it's true! Mr. Potter, you underestimate me!"
Harry clapped his hands and laughed, "Excellent! Excellent! Just like finding a needle in a haystack!"
He immediately tore open the prison uniform, revealing a back covered in brocade, with a picture of Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit tattooed on the skin.
He tapped his finger on his skin, and the Garden of Eden in the painting transformed into thousands of ink characters, with densely packed names moving across his skin.
"Do you recognize all these names?"
Upon seeing the names written all over his back, Mundungus turned ashen-faced, beads of cold sweat rolled down his back like soybeans, and he shook his head vigorously.
"I don't know them! I don't know any of them!"
"Actually, I was just bragging, Mr. Potter! This is my first time in Azkaban!"
Harry, impatient with his stammering, slammed his hand on the iron door, causing the poison gas to hiss and the cell door to instantly turn into a pile of rust.
He grabbed Mundungus by the back of his collar and dragged him out, shouting, "Shut up and lead me to the inner district to find someone!"
Nedonian trembled, desperately gripping Harry's arm, and cried out, "Mr. Potter, please calm down! The Inner Quarter is full of Dementors!"
"What are you afraid of! I have my own ways of subduing demons. If you keep making excuses, I'll teach you a lesson in the taste of snake venom!"
Startled, Mundungust's body went limp on one side, and he could only shrink his neck and lead the way, his legs still trembling like leaves.
After walking for about half an incense stick's time, the two could see the lush and dark atmosphere of the inner area.
A chilling wind howled, and black mist billowed. Groups of three or five Soul-Stealing Monsters hovered in mid-air, much like the Wraiths patrolling Fengdu City.
Upon seeing this sight, Mundungus was so frightened that he nearly lost his mind and his crotch was soaked with sweat.
But Harry simply waved his hand, and what a strange thing happened! The Dementors, as if soldiers seeing a general's command flag, all bowed and made way, instantly scattering into two lines to clear a path.
Mundungus was dumbfounded, and felt that Harry was like a dragon in the clouds, whose beginning and end were hard to fathom, so he became even more respectful.
The two took a few more steps and suddenly heard rustling sounds coming from inside the iron fences on both sides.
"Is it Harry Potter?"
"We all heard that sound..."
"The little bastard who killed his master is here!"
The sound was like a meteor falling to the ground, and the prisoners in the cell immediately erupted in anger.
They beat their chests and stamped their feet, gnashing their teeth, their howls rising in waves, shaking the iron chains with a clanging sound. It was truly a scene of: a pack of mad tigers roaring through the mountains, and several destitute demons wreaking havoc in the netherworld.
The Death Eaters rushed to the iron bars, pressing their faces against the gaps in the bars, like starving jackals seeing flesh and blood.
He roared wildly, his eyes flashing with ferocity, as if he wanted to devour Harry alive right then and there.
Mundungus felt a chill run down his spine and to the top of his head. He hurriedly moved a few steps closer to Harry, panting, and said:
"You really should have stopped that Auror who announced your arrival in Azkaban."
"These guys are practically driven mad by the Dementors; they've lost all sense of reason—just think about why they were captured in the first place."
"Their master was killed by you."
Harry, however, remained as still as steel, his face as expressionless, merely glancing coldly at the prisoners without uttering a word.
Seeing this, Mundungust felt his heart pounding with anxiety and quickly pointed to the prisoner in front of him.
The man had a pale, long face, a broad back and a thick waist, and a tangled beard like a spear. He was pounding on the railing and howling wildly.
"He is Antonin Dolokhov, and his name is written on your left breast."
"This guy and four other Death Eaters murdered the Prewitt brothers—"
Mundungus whispered, "They are Molly's two brothers."
Molly was as important to Harry as his own parents. Upon learning that this vile birdman was the enemy who had killed her two brothers, Harry's face darkened, and without a word, he strode forward.
As Harry approached, Nadolhov burst into maniacal laughter and roared hoarsely to his left and right.
"Did you see that! Did you all see that! This scarred kid remembers me!"
"Oh! Little Harry, don't cry, don't be like your mom and dad—"
Harry gripped the iron lock tightly, and the lock hissed and melted away. But as he parted the bars and stepped inside, Dolokhov's last words caught in his throat.
The Death Eater's bloodshot eyes darted around, he licked his dry, cracked lips, and moved sideways along the stone wall before opening his mouth.
"You seem to be more capable than your parents, huh? Little Harry?"
"Don't you want to tell Uncle Dolokhov why you were sent to Azkaban?"
Harry simply said coldly, "But you're the one who harmed Molly Prewitt's two brothers?"
"Plump? Who's that?"
Before he could finish speaking, Harry burst into action, leaping like a tiger across a ravine. With a whirlwind, his fist, the size of a vinegar jar, hurtled straight at his face.
That punch was incredibly powerful! With a "crack" sound, the bridge of the nose collapsed, the two eyeballs almost popped out of their sockets, and one of the front teeth immediately broke off.
Dolokhov sent Harry flying backward, leaving a dent the size of a bowl on his face.
He coughed up a mouthful of blood, raised his hand shakily, and mumbled something.
"Wait...wait...I remembered..."
"Plundt...remember..."
Harry remained silent, only throwing punches.
The cell was so dark that it was impossible to see one's own fingers. All that could be heard were muffled thuds like heavy drumbeats, which echoed through the corridor walls and reverberated.
Before long, a pool of blood meandered out from the cracks in the brickwork, mixed with broken teeth and bones, and an eyeball rolled out of the threshold.
The Death Eaters who had been shouting earlier fell silent. The alert ones had already shrunk into the shadows, while the timid ones trembled, their jaws clenching together.
Before long, the scarred man, naked and covered in blood, stepped out of the prison gate, carrying a headless corpse in his hand. The skin and flesh around the neck were mangled and torn apart, with only a few strands of flesh hanging on, just like the carcass of an animal hanging on the butcher's table.
Just then, the name "Antonin Dolokhov" on his chest suddenly lit up and then disappeared as starlight.
Poems as proof:
Enraged, he beat the prisoner who ate the dead, his divine fist smashing his skull.
His name was scattered, his sins vanished, and heaven and earth were at peace; his might shook Azkaban.
Seeing this from the side, Mundungus was so terrified that his legs went limp and he collapsed to the ground.
The Death Eaters who had been spying around were now completely silent, even their clothes tucked into the shadows. The entire prison was deathly still, except for the sound of blood dripping from the cracks in the bricks.
Harry ignored these scoundrels and grabbed Mundungus by the collar. "Where is Rodolphus Lestrange imprisoned? Lead me there."
Having just witnessed the ruthless man's ability to kill with his bare hands, how could he dare to be negligent? He hurriedly bowed and agreed, leading the way with trepidation.
The two walked through the dark corridor for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. Whenever they encountered a Death Eater who dared to show himself, Harry's fist would take the lives of seven or eight more.
Upon reaching the top floor of Azkaban, they saw a dark, imposing iron gate locking a cell in a chilling manner.
Narodolphus huddled in the shadows, his face withered like rotten wood, but his eyes shone with an eerie light.
Seeing Harry stride in covered in blood, she merely stared at him coldly.
Harry straightened his clothes and sat cross-legged on the ground, meeting Voldemort's gaze. "Your wife, Bellatrix, was rescued only after Voldemort killed her?"
Upon hearing this name, Mundungus shuddered and hastily found an excuse to scurry away like a mouse.
Rodolphus, without dodging or avoiding the question, stated frankly, "That's right, Bella and my lord have left."
Harry scoffed. "That bastard Voldemort, who's been beaten to a pulp by me time and time again, dares to call himself 'Master'?"
"In that case, I should sit atop all the heavens!"
Rodolphus, neither angry nor annoyed, even showed a hint of pity on his withered face, and sighed, "It's not your fault that you tried to go against the Lord, Mr. Potter."
"After all, you've never seen God."
(End of this chapter)