Harry Potter: From Muggle Cousin to Conceptual Wizard

Chapter 20 A Hard-Fought Victory! First Encounter with Dumbledore!

On the damaged underground vault passageway, countless rubble stones emitted a golden luster.

Just as Voldemort was about to commit his crime, he suddenly realized that his body—no, Quirrell's body—was becoming heavy and stiff, his senses were deteriorating, and his joints were gradually becoming sluggish.

To his astonishment, his scarlet eyes saw Harry's reflection in his clear eyes.

The ugly green skin on his face is turning into a dazzling golden skin!

"Harry, smash him! Steal the wand!"

Dudley seized the opportunity, shouting as he raised his tightly held Deegrid wand and pointed it at Voldemort, yelling, "Disarmament! Disarmament! Disarmament!"

This isn't about repeating something important three times; it's about Dudley repeatedly channeling his magic, trying to successfully cast the correct disarming spell.

Meanwhile, Harry, who was initially at a loss, felt reassured upon hearing his cousin's familiar instructions and immediately complied.

He kept muttering, "Power...power...enhance! Enhance!"

Both hands strike at once!

With one fist, he struck hard the part of Voldemort's face that hadn't yet turned gold—Quirok's remaining head.

With one hand forming a claw, he quickly grabbed at Voldemort's (Quirok's) hand that was holding the wand, trying to take it away.

Voldemort, of course, would not sit idly by and wait to die. His bloodshot eyes blazed with extreme hatred and killing intent as he desperately chanted the incantation: "Avada Kedavra..."

"Except your weapons!"

Dudley's disarming spell was successfully cast at the crucial moment, hitting Voldemort.

The alder wand, which Harry almost snatched away, flew out of his hand as soon as a hint of green light appeared at the tip, shooting like an arrow into a stalactite in the distance.

A normal Disarming Charm would cause the enemy's wand to fly out of their hand and into their own. Clearly, Dudley's Disarming Charm this time was not perfect, only passable.

But that's enough!

Voldemort lost the ability to wreak havoc, after all, he wasn't strong enough to control Quirrell's body and cast spells without a staff while in a weakened state.

Even more critically, Harry, the savior with the full protection of maternal love, has already encountered an enemy who is filled with murderous intent towards him.

"what--"

Quirrell let out an extremely painful scream. Starting from the back of his head and his right wrist, the backlash spread throughout his body. Wherever the backlash passed, his flesh disintegrated into ashes, even the parts that had been turned to gold by the surge of Dudley's magic were no exception.

"Harry Potter! I'll be back!"

Voldemort loosened his control over Quirrell's body. At this point, there was nothing he could do; escaping and resurrection were more important to him.

"Bam—"

Quirrell's head exploded completely, and an invisible force of repulsion shook Harry and Dudley, who was rushing towards him despite the pain.

The black hood ripped open, and a dark purple, garlic-smelling headscarf was tossed high into the air, followed by the black smoke-like soul of Voldemort.

It spun rapidly downwards, trying to use its mimicry-like black smoke tentacles to grab the fallen fake magic stone packet and escape.

Dudley was still in pain and in poor condition, but he still wanted to keep Voldemort alive. That ugly guy had completely enraged him today!

He collapsed to the ground, struggling to raise his wand: "Fire..."

"All curses end!"

An aged but even louder chant interrupted Dali's forced concentration as he was about to unleash a fire spell.

An incomparably dazzling bright yellow light pierced through the raging fiery python on the outside, sweeping across from the far distance with unstoppable momentum, and hitting the black smoke tentacles extended by Voldemort's main soul with perfect accuracy.

"Hiss! Damn Dumbledore!"

With a barely audible, vicious curse, Voldemort's main spirit abandoned the idea of ​​retrieving the 'Philosopher's Stone' and leaped upwards, colliding head-on with the dark purple turban that was gradually falling from the sky.

The moment they made contact, they suddenly transformed into a twisted spiral and disappeared.

It was obvious that Voldemort and Quirrell had prepared an escape route well in advance, turning the hood into a Portkey, and an enhanced one at that.

Otherwise, it would be impossible to escape through Apparition from Gringotts' underground vault, which is protected by various magical defenses.

"unlucky!"

Dudley cursed viciously, not even glancing at the Time Control Master who was gracefully approaching while cleaning up the mess of the Fiend Curse.

He struggled to his feet, staggered to Harry's side, helped his cousin up, and after confirming that he was alright, rushed to Hagrid, who was bleeding profusely and unconscious.

"Heal quickly! Recover rapidly!"

Without a word, Dudley immediately took Dygor's wand and began healing Hagrid.

After casting two spells without success, Dudley quickly mastered the technique of casting a healing spell, and under the white light, Hagrid's wounds gradually healed.

"Harry, help Hagrid up!"

"Yes, cousin!"

Harry responded as always, and after casting another 'Strength' spell on himself, he easily lifted the heavy Hagrid.

Seeing that Hagrid slowly woke up without any side effects, Dudley cast two more healing spells on himself and Harry.

"Harry, Hagrid! Are you alright?"

An old man with white hair, a crooked nose, and a white beard approached and uttered a gentle yet compassionate inquiry.

Hagrid was not quite fully conscious, but he vaguely saw that it was Dumbledore and nodded with difficulty.

Harry, who was supporting Hagrid, felt somewhat at a loss in the face of such an old man, so he just looked at him without saying a word.

"Get out of here, or I'll make you get a beating!"

Suddenly, without turning his head, Dudley launched into a tirade against the gentle, centenarian, leaving the greatest wizard of the twentieth century speechless.

Dumbledore's face stiffened. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him like that, or rather, no one had ever dared to speak to him like that.

Whether it was Grindelwald or Voldemort, whether it was a Saint or a Death Eater, they all held him in at least a minimum of awe.

With his rich life experience of over a hundred years, it's hard to imagine that an eleven-year-old wizard would... spout such nonsense.