Suddenly, a mass of gray-black mist poured from Voldemort's mouth. The instant it appeared, it wrapped itself around Quirrell's body. Accompanied by Quirrell's dull, almost numb screams and the horrifying sound of flesh writhing and shifting, Quirrell's body miraculously forced itself upright.
But this miracle came at a cost.
On the front of Quirrell's face, the original owner of the body was being erased amid agonized screams.
Starting with the eyes, as if chalk marks were being wiped clean from a blackboard, then the nose, the mouth, and finally the contours of the face.
In moments, that face was completely wiped away, as though it had never existed at all.
The piercing, dreadful scream vanished with it.
Quirrell disappeared from this world forever.
This was blood magic from the Age of Blood, a brutal art that traded sacrifice for power or even life itself. It was one of the gains Voldemort had obtained after opening the Chamber of Secrets.
Salazar Slytherin, the most proficient in dark magic among the four founders of Hogwarts, had once collected spells from that bloody era. Sacrifice was a core principle of such magic.
Voldemort himself had even granted this magic as a reward to certain wizards who had rendered great service.
Peter Pettigrew, for example.
The problem was that this magic came with severe limitations, and the backlash on the caster was immense. Voldemort had never intended to use it.
But now, he had no choice.
If he didn't, he would lose his chance to obtain the Philosopher's Stone.
Fortunately, there was still another soul in this body.
Quirrell.
A wizard's soul was enough to sustain Voldemort in this body for one full hour.
Having sacrificed Quirrell's soul and gained a brief surge of restoration and strength, Voldemort cast a cold glance at the nearby Chomping Cabbages. He opened his mouth and spat a ball of Fiendfyre into his palm.
He had to end this quickly. The power gained through sacrificial dark magic would fade fast. He needed to seize the Philosopher's Stone and escape while he still could.
Against magical plants, the simplest solution was Fiendfyre.
The flames swelled violently with the wind, transforming in the blink of an eye into a massive serpent of fire that lunged toward the Chomping Cabbages.
Voldemort snorted, not even bothering to look back at the bizarre plants being engulfed by the inferno.
There was nothing worth watching. Under Fiendfyre's rampage, nothing survived. Even this strange land of death, even the unicorns, would be swallowed by a sea of fire—
Pchi.
The sound of flesh being torn rang out, and warm blood splattered across Voldemort's face.
His eyes flew wide open as he stared at the Chomping Cabbage latched onto his shoulder. Its entire body glowed red, flames blasting from between its teeth as it gnawed into him, roasting his mangled shoulder until it was charred on the outside and scorched through within.
How was this possible?
How could there be a survivor?
Before Voldemort could recover from the shock, a tearing sensation came from his shoulder.
The Chomping Cabbage ripped a chunk of flesh clean off.
Fortunately, this body didn't belong to Voldemort. He felt no pain at all. Even as a piece of flesh was torn away, his arm didn't so much as tremble.
He pointed at the cabbage and said coldly,
"Avada Kedavra."
He unleashed his signature curse again. Yet the once-unfailing Killing Curse failed.
The sickly green magic struck the Chomping Cabbage, but nothing happened. It wasn't injured in the slightest, only knocked away by the force of the impact.
What kind of joke was this?
What sort of Chomping Cabbage was this, that it could ignore the Killing Curse?
But almost immediately, Voldemort realized he was wrong.
Very wrong.
The Chomping Cabbage wasn't ignoring his Killing Curse.
It was ignoring all magic.
Fiendfyre included.
He hadn't noticed until he turned around.
Only then did he realize that every single Chomping Cabbage caught in Fiendfyre was completely unharmed. Even the surrounding plants hadn't been affected in the slightest.
This wasn't a fish slipping through the net.
The net itself had been torn apart.
Voldemort's face turned a deep purple. Not from rage, but because Quirrell was already dead. This body was rapidly deteriorating. In one hour, it would become a true corpse.
If Voldemort failed to abandon it in time, he would suffer severe damage as well.
He was out of time.
He couldn't afford to be dragged down here by Chomping Cabbages that ignored magic.
"If I can't deal with you, I can at least avoid you," Voldemort sneered.
He raised his hand and cast the spell.
"Apparition."
His body twisted instantly, vanishing from the spot as if swallowed by a black hole.
The Forbidden Forest lay beyond Hogwarts' protective wards. There was no magic here to prevent Apparition.
Voldemort planned to return directly to the forest's entrance and seize the Philosopher's Stone before Quirrell's body completely failed.
What he didn't see was that the moment he Apparated away, the same magical distortion appeared around the Chomping Cabbages.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished as well.
Near the Botanical Garden, silence returned. Only the unicorns cautiously approached, examining the traces left behind.
...
A distorted figure took shape at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.
Voldemort stared toward Hogwarts Castle in the distance, his expression grim and his mood heavy.
If he'd known he was going to be ambushed, he would have charged straight in and taken the Philosopher's Stone. Why waste so much time in the forest?
...
"Damn Quirrell. Useless trash," Voldemort muttered, lifting his foot and preparing to head toward Hogwarts.
Then a sound rose behind him.
That familiar, unnatural sound, like something hopping and bouncing across the grass.
Voldemort froze.
He turned around stiffly.
There they were.
Those Chomping Cabbages he couldn't afford to provoke, hopping relentlessly toward him once more.
Reality proved that he couldn't just avoid them.
He couldn't even escape them.
For the first time in a long while, Voldemort felt it.
Fear.
"What kind of joke is this? What kind of monsters are you?" Voldemort roared, furious and shaken by the realization that he was afraid.
How was this possible?
As the Dark Lord, as Voldemort, he shouldn't feel fear.
He definitely shouldn't fear a few cabbages.
Others were supposed to fear him.
"I'll kill you all! I refuse to believe you can ignore every spell!" Voldemort shouted, releasing magic wildly.
What he failed to notice was that the Chomping Cabbages didn't rush to attack him.
Instead, they actively charged straight into his spells.
Boom!
The explosion tore through the night, waking Hagrid from his hut near the Forbidden Forest. Grabbing his crossbow, he rushed outside.
He arrived at the forest's entrance.
"Merlin's beard…" Hagrid froze in place, eyes wide in disbelief.