"In Dumbledore's hands," Dawn shrugged. "If you want it, go get it from him."
That answer darkened Tom's expression even further.
But he stayed calm, surprisingly rational. He raised his wand and traced a skull in midair—its mouth open, a serpent slithering out.
"Child, you've angered me greatly. And yet, I'm still willing to offer you a chance to live…
"Become one of my Death Eaters, as repayment for losing my treasure."
Dawn stared at the mark, saying nothing.
He could feel the killing intent thickening in the air, like a snake slithering over his skin, its fangs poised at his throat.
Voldemort meant it. He would absolutely kill him here and now.
And yet—
Dawn chuckled softly.
Cold. Contemptuous.
"You want me to brand myself with that hideous mark? That symbol of your failed life? Tom Riddle… who do you think you are?"
"Who am I?"
Voldemort burst into laughter. He had heard the rejection loud and clear. A red curse shot forth like lightning.
"I am the Dark Lord feared across the world! I am the one who has conquered death, destined to rule all!"
"Wrong. You're just a wandering ghost," Dawn's crimson eyes were full of disdain.
He ducked low, avoiding the Cruciatus Curse.
Then—
Under the surge of magical energy, the furniture in the room began to twist and morph, transforming into a swarm of snakes and eagles that lunged at Voldemort!
"Incendio!"
With a graceful flick of his wand, Voldemort summoned blazing fire.
The creatures were instantly engulfed in flames, falling from the air as charred wreckage, returning to wood and scorched debris.
But the next second—more snakes emerged from beneath, having survived within their scorched outer shells.
Their bodies coiled and launched, fast as arrows!
Fangs bared, mouths wide!
"Impressive."
Voldemort observed the snake sinking its fangs into his wrist with calm eyes.
"Using Gemino to duplicate them before the flames hit… then bundling them together like ants, shielding the real ones in the center."
He had immediately seen through Dawn's tactics. A silent Protego blocked Dawn's follow-up curse.
"Among young wizards your age, your spellwork is the strongest I've ever seen," he even offered a rare compliment.
Plop—
With that, the snakes biting into him suddenly hissed in agony.
Thick smoke poured from their mouths, melting their faces into unrecognizable mush.
"Child, sometimes a curse isn't entirely a bad thing."
Voldemort looked at Dawn, surprised, but casually flicked his bloodied wrist, leaving a crimson smear on the floor.
"Quirrell's blood was cursed from drinking unicorn blood. But it also gained immense corrosiveness and empowered my magic."
He stood up elegantly and offered Dawn a hand.
"Dawn Richter, your talent has earned my respect. And from the way you handle your classmates… I think we're quite alike.
"So I'll offer you one last chance."
"Join me."
"I will teach you the true nature of magic. Impress me, and I may even share the secret of creating Horcruxes."
Tom thought he was being more than generous. To make such an offer to an eleven-year-old… whether he meant to fulfill it or not, his attitude was clear.
But—
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
Dawn's red eyes were void of emotion. He opened his hand.
"Because really, who would pledge themselves to someone who's destined to fail?"
Destined to fail?
Tom's face turned ice-cold.
All trace of admiration vanished. He was going to kill this brat right here and now.
°Avis°
A sharp crack like gunfire echoed in the room. Then came a chaotic flurry of birds.
Birds everywhere?
Dawn cast the spell, narrowed his eyes, and shielded himself with Protego, stepping back.
He had no intention of fighting to the death in here!
He turned to the window, planning to leap out and draw attention. The school was full of people who could deal with Voldemort.
But—
Though he had opened it earlier, the window wouldn't budge.
"Don't bother," Voldemort said, eyes filled with sadistic glee. "The moment I entered, I sealed this room off entirely."
The birds in midair twisted under his magic, transforming into silver needles.
"Child… I'll make you regret everything you just said!"
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
Like a storm of nails against stone— The needles rained down, engulfing Dawn.
Quirrell couldn't channel Voldemort's full power—but Dawn still felt the immense force behind every strike.
He raised his wand, preparing to retaliate...but then:
°Confringo°
An explosion of fire lit up the room.
Crack—!
Protego shattered.
Shhh—!
The needles pierced flesh. Blood hissed into mist under the heat of the blast.
Dawn grunted in pain.
His dark robes were soaked in red.
°Crucio°
The next spell landed instantly.
Agony exploded from within, like nails being driven into his skull.
Voldemort cackled wildly, casting curse after curse. But even as Dawn bit through his lip, drawing blood, he didn't make a sound.
Eventually, Voldemort grew bored.
"Enough."
Feeling Quirrell's magic weakening, the body nearing collapse, he sneered and raised his wand for one final spell.
°Avada Kedavra°
The green light struck Dawn's body.
Voldemort smiled coldly, putting his wand away.
No need to clean up. Quirrell would die soon anyway, and he had already found a new hiding place in the castle.
But just before he turned the handle—
A weak voice spoke behind him.
"I've always thought the Killing Curse was a truly great spell… because it levels the playing field among wizards."
"What?!"
Voldemort spun around—but it was too late.
A flash of green light hit him square in the chest, slamming him into the door.
"You agree, don't you… Tom Riddle?"
Dawn slowly stood up, crimson eyes ice-cold.
He shook himself.
And from inside his robes, a grotesque, misshapen toad dropped to the floor.
The same toad he kept hidden in his coin purse.
The moment Quirrell had appeared, Dawn had adjusted the purse's position while pretending to tug at his collar.
And during the very first burst of Transfiguration, he'd covertly pulled the toad out—transforming it into an inner layer of clothing beneath his robes.
Which is why—
He had survived the Killing Curse.
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