Confronting Voldemort

"Alright, Tom!"

Luke pointed his wand at Quirrell and spoke softly.

"You... how did you know that!?"

Quirrell took a step back, his wand moving from Harry's head to Luke's.

He believed that the secret behind his head had never been exposed. No one, except Peter Pettigrew, knew that Voldemort was possessing him, and Peter had discovered it by accident last time.

As Quirrell laid eyes on the splendid golden back and handsome face, the wound that had been pierced that day ached. He knew he couldn't beat this little wizard in front of him.

Quirrell was very self-aware. The recent thunderstorm in the Forbidden Forest had left him with lingering fears and a shadow. That kind of power was beyond any wizard's mastery— not Voldemort, the previous Dark Lord, not even Dumbledore!

"Quirrell, turn your head!"

A snake-like hiss came from the back of the head.

"Yes, Master!"

Quirrell controlled his trembling hands and took off the purple turban. Under Harry's terrified gaze, a wriggling face slowly opened its cold eyes.

The face showed a pale feeling, with two red eyes staring at Luke and Harry, and two slender nostrils like scars below.

Tom without a nose.

Harry's eyes widened, and he covered his mouth, holding back his voice.

Luke, who had already seen it once, didn't have an unusual reaction.

"Oh, the boy who survived, Harry Potter!"

Voldemort's eyes turned to Harry, filled with murderous intent.

"I'll get my revenge back—"

"And you, wonderful little wizard of Slytherin, your spell that night really made me..."

"Confringo!"

Luke was too lazy to listen to all of Voldemort's nonsense. Considering that Dumbledore might arrive soon, he didn't raise his hand to cast an Unforgivable Curse but chose a powerful attack.

"Protego!"

The sudden attack did not succeed, but Voldemort, being an excellent wizard with more combat experience than Luke, was unharmed except for a slight wave.

"What? Not using your thunderbolt spell?!"

"With such powerful force, you will have side effects too!"

Voldemort grinned, mocking.

"You are the most talented little wizard I have ever seen. To be honest, I really can't bear to kill you!"

"Your Unforgivable Curse is full of determination to kill me, and your life-threatening spell is as powerful as mine..."

"All of this means that you are more suitable to be a dark wizard than anyone else!"

"Come on, be my subordinate..."

"Are you only talking about this?"

Luke shook his wand in his hand, releasing a silent spell, conjuring a flickering flame beside Voldemort out of thin air. He opted not to use Dragon Slayer Magic due to the confined space, preventing the risk of causing the room to collapse.

In this small room and facing a weakened Quirrell with a barely alive Voldemort, using Dragon Slayer Magic was deemed impractical.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort, in a fit of rage, cast the infamous green death-throwing spell, attempting to strike Luke.

However, much to Voldemort's astonishment, his lethal curse went straight through Luke's body and hit the wall behind him.

"A silent spell and... a phantom spell?" Voldemort was utterly confounded. How could someone of Luke's age master such advanced magic? What kind of training had he undergone at his young age?

The three scythes in Luke's eyes slowly turned, revealing not a phantom spell but the Sharingan. Unsure if Voldemort, in his current state, could be affected by illusions, Luke remembered that illusions inflicted more damage on weaker souls.

"Is that all you can do?" Luke scoffed at Voldemort, shaking his head. "That's really disappointing, Tom."

With a wave of his wand, the gravel on the ground transformed into three sharp swords, flying towards Voldemort under the blessing of the Floating Charm. Harry, who was tasked with watching the battle while holding the Philosopher's Stone, was stunned by the seamless coordination of these spells.

"When can I be like this too?" Harry thought enviously.

"Damn it!" Voldemort cursed, expressing his frustration. Two of his arms and one thigh were now pinned to the wall. Quirrell emitted a tragic whimper, feeling the pain, while Voldemort remained unaffected.

In his current weakened state, he found himself being overpowered by a young wizard who had just entered school. He blamed Quirrell, the fool, for the failure of his mission. If he had the Philosopher's Stone now, the wizard standing before him would have been tortured by the Cruciatus Curse.

Voldemort cursed frantically in his heart, realizing the dire situation.

Luke approached with a sharp blade in his hand. The Transfiguration Spell taught by Professor McGonagall proved incredibly useful—a convenient and deadly tool.

"You can't kill me Luke!" Voldemort's eyes showed madness, devoid of fear.

"I'll be back, definitely...will be back!" Voldemort's defiant declaration echoed.

Blood spurted like a fountain as Luke cleanly severed Quirrell's head. Expressionlessly, he tossed the bloodstained blade aside. On the back of Quirrell's head, Voldemort's face vanished after his last words.

If Luke could defeat Voldemort once, he was confident he could do it again. He wasn't afraid.

"Are you all right, Luke?" Harry hurried over, witnessing Voldemort's death curse hitting Luke's body.

The current Harry lacked an understanding of the Phantom Charm and had no concept of it.

"It's okay. What about the Philosopher's Stone?" Luke dropped his bloodstained robe on Quirrell's headless body, feeling queasy.

"The Philosopher's Stone is here, here!" Harry swiftly retrieved a fist-sized crimson stone from his pocket and handed it to Luke.

"Is this the magic stone that refines the elixir of immortality?" Luke examined the stone, curious. Opening the writing wheel, he found no magical flow inside.

"Is it a Fake."

Luke wondered but he was momentarily stunned when Dumbledore arrived.

....

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