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[HP] 78: Stay Calm at Critical Moments
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 15:30:03 +0000 UTC> [You used illusion to deceive a fragment of Voldemort’s soul]
> [Effect: Outstanding]
> [You gained 1,500 Trick Points (soul fragment reward reduced by two-thirds). Current total: 42,920 points]
> [You have activated Challenge Mission: Voldemort Battle Royale]
> [Let the fragments of Voldemort's soul grow, and have them battle the original Voldemort until a victor emerges]
> [Mission Reward: Unlock Legendary Draw]
Louis glanced at the system prompt, and the twitch in his eye completely ruined his mischievous smirk.
When it comes to stirring up chaos, the system really knows its stuff. Not only does it have dedicated missions for troublemaking, but now it’s actually started a “Voldemort Battle Royale”? Still, it did sound pretty fun… and unlocking a legendary draw? That definitely got Louis interested.
But a mission is a mission. Even if the system wanted Voldemort’s soul fragments to duke it out, this one trying to escape wasn’t something Louis was going to let slide.
Weighing the Mejia Soul-Stealing Scroll in his hand, Louis continued siphoning away at the soul power of the Ravenclaw Horcrux.
Due to the special nature of Horcruxes, the scroll couldn’t extract the soul fragment directly, but it could drain its power instead. And that was more than enough to cause Voldemort unbearable pain.
The Ravenclaw fragment’s screams echoed through the Potion Room. At first, it still had the strength to curse Louis, spitting venom and madness—but before long, terror crept into its voice. A profound sense of weakness set in, making it feel as though it was truly about to die.
In reality, it wouldn’t die from this—it would simply fall into a deep sleep.
"I'm sorry! Please, forgive me! It was all my fault!" Faced with the threat of death, the fragment finally yielded and—unbelievably—begged for mercy.
Louis completely understood. Only those who truly feared death would go to such lengths—even destroy their own face—just for the illusion of immortality.
Voldemort feared death. So did his fragments.
Still, Louis didn’t drain the fragment completely. If he overdid it and the thing fell into deep sleep from energy exhaustion, then the Ravenclaw soul fragment would be useless. It would miss the entire “Voldemort Battle Royale.”
It was like draining a battery—if you take it all at once, it's dead. But if you go slowly, it can last longer. If this fragment got drained dry, it’d need at least ten or twenty years to recover.
This was directly tied to Louis’s mission. He wasn’t about to risk losing the chance to unlock the legendary draw—those kinds of opportunities were rare. If he missed this, where would he find another mission like that?
“I hope you truly understand your position now, Mr. Voldemort.” Louis’s eyes turned cold as he looked at the fragment. “Given your behavior, I’ll need to lock you away for a while. Later, we’ll discuss how to make you replace your original self.”
Without waiting for a response, Louis raised his hand and wrapped the Ravenclaw Diadem in a layer of Volumen Hydrargyrum.
This special silver, gifted by the system, would only obey Louis’s commands. Without him, Voldemort would never escape.
After dealing with Voldemort, Louis turned to the Acromantula corpse, frowning in disgust.
Still, no matter how gross, money was money.
He guided a portion of the Volumen Hydrargyrum to extract the Acromantula venom and collected it in a bottle from the Room of Requirement. Despite the spider's massive size, the venom gathered was only ten ounces—roughly half a pint—worth about fifty Galleons.
But that was just the reference price. On the market, Acromantula venom was even more valuable—one of those “rare but in-demand” kind of items.
Still, it wasn’t something he could sell openly—it was illegal.
Louis shook the bottle, making sure it was sealed tight before tossing it into his storage space.
“Hagrid definitely can’t be the one to sell this,” Louis muttered. “Even if he goes to Knockturn Alley, they’ll lowball him.”
He snapped his fingers, sending a blast of fire to incinerate the Acromantula remains.
“Need to figure out another way to offload this stuff.”
Monday. The Faceless Phantom had worn off from repeated use. As expected of a trial version—it had a ridiculously short duration.
Today’s classes were Charms and Herbology. After they ended, Louis headed straight for the library—and sure enough, found Hermione there.
“Louis…”
At the sight of him, Hermione looked a bit awkward, her eyes flicking away.
Louis raised a brow. Something about the way she avoided his gaze felt off.
Could it be… was she charmed by my divine beauty? No, Hermione, you should be admiring my superior intellect instead!
Noticing her discomfort, Louis chose to act as though nothing had happened. With a calm smile, he approached her.
“Come on, Hermione. Let’s go work on homework together.”
His easygoing demeanor made Hermione relax, the tension in her shoulders easing.
They sat near a window in the library. The table had previously been occupied by a Slytherin boy and his girlfriend, but the moment they saw Louis heading over, they grabbed their things and ran.
Well, that saved the trouble of looking for seats.
“They’re scared of you,” Hermione remarked. “Because of the rumors going around school?”
“Yep. So, you’ve heard them too?” Louis asked.
Hermione nodded, then shook her head. “But I don’t believe them. I remember you said your family is Muggle-born. This is probably just a plot by those Slytherins you humiliated. I’ve been defending you in the dorm, but no one believes me.”
Ah, so that’s why the mission progress has been stuck. Louis thought.
“Why don’t you believe them?” he asked.
“I just don’t think someone who’s truly been bullied would speak well of the person who did it,” Hermione said. “You should be careful, though. They might use this as a pretext to do something to you.”
“And if I told you that they were right? That I really am a descendant of Merlin?” Louis asked, choosing his words carefully.
“If it’s you saying it, of course I’d believe it,” Hermione answered with a brilliant smile.
The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm halo around her face. Her long lashes trembled gently as she looked at Louis with sincerity.
“If you say it, I believe it.”
For a moment, Louis almost blurted out the truth—that he was actually just tricking them. But at the last second, he pulled himself back.
“Well then,” he said calmly, “I’m telling you now: I really am a descendant of Merlin.”
***
