The one-armed shadow figure's gaze stayed on the boy for a moment, but in the end he waved his hand.
The noblewoman understood immediately and quickly led the boy and the little girl out of the secondary reception hall.
The fire in the fireplace was still burning.
But compared to before, the flames had weakened a lot because the wood had been consumed.
This caused the one-armed shadow figure to once again be covered by darkness.
"Looks like I failed.", The one-armed shadow figure sighed.
As he spoke, he slowly walked toward Voldemort in front of the fire. When the firelight reflected in his eyes, it strangely showed a rose-red glow.
"Number… Number 1…" a dry voice came from Voldemort's throat, "Don't… please… you…"
The one-armed shadow figure frowned.
"Number 4, you know this. Number 2 and Number 3 have always suggested that I simply divide you up and eat you, since you are a failure. But I rejected their proposal. You could say I've already been extremely merciful to you."
The one-armed shadow figure pulled out the dagger again.
"The mysterious object in the British Department of Mysteries was very troublesome. In order to save you, not only did I lose an arm, I also lost part of my 'blood.' This kind of loss is something I cannot accept."
"But even so, I still chose to use the method of sacrificing other people."
"But as you can see, this method doesn't have much effect."
"So I can only recover my losses from you."
"No! This method works! The 'blood' inside your body… it absorbs the power of other souls and replenishes itself!" Voldemort said excitedly.
"As long as you kill enough… as long as you keep killing, you will recover! But you… you actually used the soul energy you absorbed on that little girl!? Why? Why did you do that?"
Hearing this, the shadow figure called Number 1 paused for a moment, as if he was really thinking about Voldemort's question.
After a long time, he answered, "Maybe… because her eyes looked very beautiful?"
"Liar!" Voldemort shouted sharply. "You're lying! I know you too well, Number 1! I am you, and you are me, so you can't fool me!"
On Voldemort's bandage-covered face, a twisted and ugly smile appeared.
"She reminded you of that woman, didn't she? Merope Gaunt, our mother! Ha! The moment her mother rushed out and called her a Muggle, I already guessed it! This experience is almost exactly the same as our mother's!"
Voldemort's words caused a brief look of confusion to appear on Number 1's face.
He muttered, "They really are so similar. Although I've never seen what our mother looked like, even when we turned the Gaunt house upside down back then, we still couldn't find a single photo of her. But I just feel that they are the same. So I…"
"Shut up!"
Voldemort screamed hysterically.
"I can't believe that I once was… this… childish! Even without eyes I can guess what you look like right now! Crying and whining like a child that hasn't even been weaned yet! Pitiful! Pathetic!"
"You don't actually think that woman loved us, do you?"
"Give up your fantasies!"
"That woman never had the right to be a mother!"
"She never loved us. The one she always loved was that trash father of ours!"
"Even though that man didn't love her at all, even though the moment the love potion wore off he abandoned her without hesitation!"
"She still loved that man!"
Number 1 did not speak. He only quietly looked at Voldemort.
Without receiving a response, Voldemort became even more crazed and continued, "You don't believe me, do you? That's fine, I have proof!"
"You know that she gave birth to us in front of the orphanage and died from difficult labor."
"But what you don't know is that before she died, she made a wish."
Voldemort's voice became darker and darker, until it finally turned into a sound almost like sobbing.
"She wished… that we would grow up with the same handsome appearance as our father!"
"And also, she was a witch. Even though her magic power was so weak that people called her a Squib, how could she die just because of difficult labor?"
"So… when you combine these two things, the answer becomes very clear."
"Our mother never intended to raise us. She actively and willingly chose death and gave up the will to live."
When he finished speaking, two streams of bloody tears flowed from Voldemort's empty eye sockets.
It was impossible to tell whether it was caused by the intense movement or because his emotions had reached the extreme of sorrow.
Not far away, Number 1, who had remained silent the whole time, finally raised his head.
His face was filled with pity as he said with some emotion, "I never expected that you, as the me from many years later, would have thoughts this extreme. Looking at you now, I finally understand why you lost to a baby like Harry Potter."
"W… why?"
"Because you don't have love."
Number 1 shook his head.
"Dumbledore wasn't wrong at all. Love is the most powerful force in this world. It can make the unfaithful become devoted, and the loyal betray. It can make cowards rise up and the strong fall into ruin! With such a powerful force, you treated it like trash. That's truly pitiful."
"The most ridiculous thing is that you even tried to convince me to accept your ideas, which have already proven they will definitely fail."
"So what if mother didn't love me?"
"I love her. That has nothing to do with whether she loves me or not!"
"I also love the people of this world. That has nothing to do with whether they love me or not!"
As he spoke, Number 1 spread his arms.
The expression of compassion on his face looked extremely ironic when set against the huge mountain of corpses behind him.
Voldemort could not see any of this, but he still sensed the strange feeling in Number 1's words.
He opened his mouth blankly, as if he still wanted to say something.
But before he could speak, the dagger embedded with a green gem had already stabbed into his chest.
A large amount of soul energy was continuously being pulled out.
But unlike before, the soul energy drawn from Voldemort's body now carried a rose-red color identical to Number 1's eyes.
As this rose-red soul energy flowed in, the gray-white energy at Number 1's severed arm began to boil.
The two energies kept twisting together and merging, and finally broke through some kind of rule.
Puch!
A brand-new arm suddenly grew out from Number 1's wound.
This arm had a strange blue-gray color. Through the thick layer of mucus and tender skin, one could even clearly see the blood flowing inside and the muscles twitching.
The dagger was pulled out. Number 1 carefully examined his new arm and found that aside from being a little tender and a little thin, it was no different from the original one. Only then did he nod in satisfaction.
Meanwhile, Voldemort had already collapsed on the ground, clutching his chest.
He wasn't dead.
But he was almost as good as dead.
Number 1 had just taken nearly half of his soul. For him, this was an irreversible and devastating injury.
Even so, his face still showed relief.
Because he knew very well that Number 1 could have drained him to death.
And that would have benefited Number 1 greatly.
But in the end, Number 1 did not do that.
As if noticing Voldemort's thoughts, Number 1 shook his head and said, "How could I kill you? To me, you are closer than even a brother. Not only will I not kill you, I will also prepare the highest level resurrection ritual for you, allowing you to once again have a healthy body and powerful strength."
"Because I love you too!"
Number 1's words sounded gentle, but when Voldemort heard them, his body began trembling uncontrollably again.
As if what Number 1 had just said was not a sincere confession.
But a death sentence from the god of death.
———
Ring! Ring! Ring!
[Hogwarts Castle]
[Inside The Gryffindor Dormitory]
With the sound of a rapid alarm clock ringing, Harry suddenly sat up from his bed.
"Huff! Huff…"
His eyes were unfocused, his breathing was heavy, and his entire body was soaked with sweat.
Ron, sleeping across from him, raised his head and asked sleepily, "Damn it! Who set the alarm clock! The exams have been over for so many days already, why is it still ringing?"
Harry brushed away the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead and said, "I… I had another dream."
"What?!", Ron instantly woke up.
After the previous battle at the Department of Mysteries, "Harry's dreams" had already become Ron's psychological shadow.
He jumped out of bed immediately and asked excitedly, "What did you dream about this time?"
Hearing this, Harry shook his head.
"No, this dream… um… it's not the kind you're thinking of. It's just… a normal nightmare."
"Really?" Ron still looked doubtful. "Then tell me what exactly you dreamed about."
Harry frowned and said in a voice that sounded almost like sleep-talking, "I dreamed that I was deep in a place filled with endless darkness. Then… then there was a gentle voice that couldn't be identified as male or female, constantly saying to me… I love you, I love you…"
"Oh, if that's the case then it's nothing."
Ron breathed a sigh of relief while patting his chest.
"I bet you're just thinking about girls. That's nothing serious. The dreams I've had are way more exciting than yours! Honestly, your dream is too tame. With a dream like that, you probably don't even need to change your underwear."
After saying that, Ron even gave Harry a rather vulgar wink.
Harry was speechless and could only laugh awkwardly.
But setting aside the suggestive part of Ron's words, Harry actually agreed with Ron's opinion.
This dream probably wasn't a big problem.
Because after practicing Occlumency for so long, he already had plenty of experience resisting mind intrusion.
At the very least, he could tell the difference between someone deliberately invading his mind and simply having a dream.
And earlier, Voldemort's plan of invading his mind to lure him into a trap had been used against him by Link. The Death Eaters had almost been wiped out, and Voldemort himself had been seriously injured.
Under these circumstances, Voldemort probably wouldn't dare invade his mind again in the short term.
Thinking this, Harry also felt relieved.
Meanwhile, Ron had become interested because of the previous topic.
He quietly climbed onto Harry's bed, squeezed into Harry's blanket, and lowered his voice deliberately.
"Harry, don't say I'm not being a good brother. Lavender has recently been helping match her girlfriends with people. If you want, I can help introduce you. With your status and reputation, getting a girlfriend shouldn't be a problem."
Hearing this, Harry raised his eyebrows and seemed a little tempted.
But soon, the image of Cho Chang appeared in his mind.
His brows furrowed again.
"Forget it. I'm not interested in that kind of thing."
"You're saying you're not interested even after having that kind of dream? That's just being hypocritical. If you ask me..."
Ron's words suddenly stopped halfway.
Harry turned his head in confusion and saw Ron staring blankly at the direction of the alarm clock.
"Harry, I think I know who set that alarm just now."
"Who?"
Harry asked while leaning over to look at the clock.
Because Ron was squeezing him from the outside, the movement was a bit difficult.
"I set it," Ron said with an ugly expression. "But that's not the alarm for waking up early. It's the alarm for when lunch starts."
As Ron finished speaking, Harry happened to glance at the position of the clock's hands.
Exactly twelve-oh-five.
Thump!
Without saying anything else, Harry jumped up from the bed and began dressing as fast as he could.
Ron on the other side did the same thing.
At their age, they were eating more while growing rapidly. Missing breakfast might not matter much, but missing lunch…
That would be pure torture.
"I should've known. With the biological clock we've developed after exams ended, how could a morning alarm wake us up? Damn it, if we go now we'll probably only make it in time for the dessert part."
Ron complained while dressing.
Harry said nothing. After quickly putting on his clothes, he ignored Ron and rushed straight out of the dormitory.
Just as Ron said, they were already very late.
This was not the time to wait for each other. Whoever arrived first and saved more food would be the smart one.
Seeing this, Ron finally panicked.
Not even bothering to finish putting on his coat, he hurried after him.
The two of them sprinted all the way toward the Great Hall. Along the way they passed students who had already finished lunch and were heading back.
Every one of them had bright smiles on their faces.
Those smiles had not disappeared from anyone's face over the past few days.
Because the OWL and NEWT end-of-year exams had already finished.
Although some people knew their results probably weren't very good.
At least the scores wouldn't be announced anytime soon.
So this period had basically become a carnival week for the students.
Almost every student, no matter how their grades usually were, began playing wildly during these days to make up for the happiness they had lost under the pressure of exams.
For example, Lavender, whom Ron mentioned earlier.
The way that group pursued excitement was quite primitive and extreme.
Their principle was simple, no initiative, no responsibility.
Of course, there were always exceptions, and Hermione was a good example.
When Harry rushed into the Great Hall, he clearly saw Hermione sitting there holding a newspaper.
She looked extremely focused. Her brows sometimes frowned and sometimes relaxed, and she was gripping the edge of the newspaper so tightly that it had already wrinkled.