Louis watched as Voldemort, brandishing the sword, rushed to strike down Harry Potter—only to be blasted away by a sudden beam of light before he could even touch him.
The scene gave Louis déjà vu. It looked exactly like the time Voldemort was kicked flying by a unicorn.
Voldemort crashed to the ground, but the Demon Lord's Sword's gift of undying vitality allowed him to rise again almost instantly.
Yet despite supposedly being immortal, his body bore a deep gash that kept bleeding.
The wound that should have appeared on Harry instead marked Voldemort—just like back then, when the Killing Curse that should have killed Harry had rebounded upon him.
"No… I can't hurt him." Voldemort's eyes burned with fury. "That damned curse!"
He turned to Louis, shouting, "Kill him for me!"
He never finished the order before a slap cracked across his face, sending him flying. If not for the Demon Lord's Sword's buffs keeping him alive, that blow might have taken his borrowed head clean off.
"I'll remind you one last time. Know your place. You dare to order me?"
Louis was in an excellent mood. Slapping Voldemort was immensely satisfying.
The World drifted back after delivering the slap, and Louis noticed Voldemort's gaze locked on it.
The World never allowed itself to be seen by outsiders.
So Voldemort could see Stands. Louis's worries were justified—among wizards, the exceptionally powerful and gifted really could sense them.
"Stop groveling like a weakling. Are you playing at being pitiful? Dumbledore and the other professors will be here any moment. Leave—now."
Louis turned to go, adding coolly, "Of course, whether you can escape is up to you. If you can't even manage that, you don't deserve to join us."
With the Philosopher's Stone in his possession, "Dio Brando" strode away. Voldemort cast one conflicted look at the unconscious, pain-wracked Harry Potter, then clenched his teeth and fled the chamber.
Harry couldn't be killed this time—but that could wait.
His eyes boiled with murderous rage.
But Quirrell, the traitor who had defied him—he must die!
One hand gripping his wand, the other clutching the Demon Lord's Sword, Voldemort brimmed with confidence.
With a blade that made him undying, paired with his own magic—even Dumbledore no longer frightened him.
He burst out of the chamber, ignoring the two students who hadn't fled far.
They were irrelevant. Not even worth a glance. His target was clear.
——
A few minutes earlier.
When Louis had shattered the wall with Time Stop and a storm of punches, the quake and thunderous noise had immediately alarmed Dumbledore.
He had originally intended to wait, to see how Harry and Voldemort's encounter unfolded. But he could no longer sit still. Already worried about the unknown intruder lurking in Hogwarts, he decided at once to seek Harry out.
But as Headmaster, he couldn't leave the school in chaos.
"Phineas, Dippet—notify Minerva to guard the students carefully. Watch for intruders."
Dumbledore spent several minutes arranging school affairs. If disaster struck, he had to take responsibility.
The portraits of past headmasters stirred, spreading his commands. Meanwhile, Dumbledore readied himself to rescue Harry.
His first instinct was to Apparate directly to the chamber of the Stone.
Voldemort had to struggle through the trials one by one. As Headmaster, Dumbledore did not.
And in the instant Dumbledore vanished—Chuan, hidden in the Headmaster's office, was dumbfounded.
She couldn't Apparate, nor track him. She had no idea where to find him.
Had the mission just failed?
While she fretted, a strange ghost burst into the Headmaster's office.
"Dumbledore! Where's Dumbledore? I must see him!" Quirrell's soul shouted, startling the portraits that remained.
"Who is this? Never seen that ghost before."
"Unclear. He's not like the others."
"…Feels oddly familiar, though."
The portraits chattered noisily, tormenting Quirrell's nerves.
"Enough! Shut up!" Quirrell roared. "Voldemort is about to be resurrected, and you're still bickering!?"
"Voldemort? Resurrected?"
The portraits froze in shock.
"Quick, notify Dumbledore!"
"Dumbledore already left."
"Where did he go?"
"No idea, he didn't say."
The portraits broke into another round of heated debate.
Quirrell was dumbfounded, his head practically exploding with anger at them.
Soon, his rationality screamed at him: stop wasting time on the portraits—finding Dumbledore was what mattered.
His body was still in Voldemort's hands!
As Quirrell's ghost slipped through the wall, the water droplet that was Chuan silently followed.
It didn't matter if Dumbledore had slipped away—so long as she shadowed the mission target, her task remained intact.
——
When Dumbledore returned to the Philosopher's Stone chamber, he froze in alarm.
Seeing Harry sprawled unconscious on the floor, he nearly believed his beloved savior had perished.
Voldemort couldn't kill Harry, but the unknown intruder lurking in Hogwarts very well could!
After checking, though, he exhaled in relief.
Thankfully, Harry was only fainted.
Summoning Fawkes, he let a few tears fall. In an instant, Harry stirred awake.
"Headmaster Dumbledore…! Headmaster!" Harry grabbed his hand. "Be careful… the sword in Voldemort's hand… with that sword, he can't be killed…"
"And… be careful of Di—"
Before he could finish, Harry's body seized in pain, and he passed out once more.
"The sword in Voldemort's hand?" Dumbledore frowned, rising to his feet and drawing the Elder Wand.
Voldemort wasn't here. He would have to hunt him down.
"Fawkes, take Harry back to my office. Protect him."
The phoenix dipped its head, seized Harry in its claws, and vanished in a blaze of fire.
Fawkes's flame-travel was unaffected by Hogwarts' protective enchantments.
"Voldemort… Quirrell…"
Elder Wand in hand, Dumbledore Apparated out of the now-useless chamber.
But where was Voldemort?
——
Elsewhere in the castle, a furious Voldemort stalked the corridors, Demon Lord's Sword in one hand, Quirrell's wand in the other, searching for Quirrell's trace.
Relying on the faint bond between body and soul, he could just barely sense Quirrell's location, and was making his way toward it.
Thanks to Professor McGonagall's sharp foresight, the students—released after exams—had already been ushered out of the castle. Thus, Voldemort encountered none of them along the way.
Meanwhile, guided by the corridor portraits, Dumbledore was swiftly closing the distance, chasing after Voldemort.
Quirrell's soul, on the other hand, was flitting through the castle like a headless fly, lost and frantic.
Three beings, chasing each other within tightening circles—about to collide.
——
While those three played their game of pursuit, Louis hid in the Room of Requirement, holding in his hands the now-whole Philosopher's Stone, fused together.
The chamber around him looked bare and limited in space, but under the effects of an Extension Charm, it was vast enough to contain the waters of the entire Black Lake.
This was to prevent catastrophic damage to the surroundings when he unleashed the talisman's full power.
The mastery and refinement of the Tiger Talisman had reached its critical point. Now was the moment to claim its power completely.
"Let's begin." Louis licked his lips, eyes locked on the Stone, its activated crimson glow flickering in his gaze.
Boom!
---
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