Chapter 148: Voldemort's Fury, Transfiguration
When he saw Leonardo raise a Muggle weapon, Voldemort sneered.
His early years had given him some familiarity with Muggle life. He knew what a handgun was. He knew what it could do.
There was no need to dodge or seek cover. He simply layered a few Protego and Impedimenta charms around himself.
Even if Leonardo conjured some more powerful Muggle firearm, it would never pierce his shields. A waste of magic.
A mocking smile tugged at his lips. He would teach Leonardo a lesson.
If the boy had talent, he should pursue the mysteries of magic, not scrabble after dull Muggle tricks.
Voldemort was about to subdue him. Once the child saw the gulf between them—
Bang!
The gunshot cracked the air.
A series of phantom shattering sounds followed almost at once.
Voldemort's smile had not yet fully formed when a cold alarm shrieked through him.
Faint pain flared. Thick black smoke erupted from his body, obscuring everything within.
"Aurelius," Leonardo called.
Blooms of cleansing flame kindled across the little Qilin's body and, in moments, carpeted the entire chamber.
The smoke cleared. Voldemort's form came into view.
A huge chunk was missing from the left side of his chest and abdomen. His beating heart was faintly visible beneath.
Voldemort stared at Leonardo. At the revolver in his hand. At the dark muzzle.
"Leonardo. You truly are full of surprises. Alchemy, is it?"
"No. Not quite. Instant penetration, dispelling magical shields… Interesting…"
He showed no concern for the injury. He was used to pain. And this was not even his body.
He glanced past Leonardo at the worktable. At the crystal phial of potion.
Leonardo, for his part, had to admire Voldemort's reaction. This was the Dark Lord who had nearly conquered wizarding Britain. In the Dark Arts, in survival, he was peerless.
Admiration aside, Leonardo did not slow.
One hand wielded his wand. The other fired the gun.
Voldemort ruthlessly squeezed more from Quirrell's flesh. The body shrank further.
The gaping wound in his chest and belly did not bleed a drop. Voldemort had converted it all with Dark Magic.
In exchange, he gained a brief, surging tide of power.
In a sea of red‑gold flame, in air warped by heat, a dizzying storm of spells flew wild.
After a few attempts to block the bullets with conjured objects proved useless, Voldemort focused on dodging and shifting.
But the pressure he put on Leonardo mounted steadily. With magic burning without restraint, Voldemort's repertoire grew richer, his transitions seamless and natural.
It was less a duel than a concert.
Spells were his notes, and under his baton, they wove an elegant symphony.
Many were spells Leonardo had never even heard of. He kept his guard tight and his defences strong.
Voldemort was a mature wizard. He had a complete combat system all his own.
Perhaps spells themselves had become a constraint, a limit on what he could do.
Still, Leonardo knew this was a rare learning opportunity.
Quirrell had only relayed Voldemort's knowledge secondhand. But live combat instruction, with no way back—that was invaluable.
There were no enemies. Only teachers.
At this moment, Voldemort really was playing the role of a harsh instructor, demonstrating his philosophy of battle.
"Leonardo, you are clever. You must have realised by now that what I taught you already touches on the Dark Arts."
"The Dark Arts are true power. The world rejects them only out of fear."
"But that hypocrite Dumbledore would never allow a first‑year to study them."
Voldemort waited for fear or tension to show on Leonardo's face, ready like a serpent to strike at the opening.
But there was none.
Leonardo's expression remained calm. His answer was a volley of spells and a hail of bullets.
Voldemort's tone turned sharp and scornful.
"A noble wizard, wielding Muggle weapons. Shameless."
Leonardo was unbothered. Trash talk. Everyone could do that.
"I saw a plaque in the trophy room the other day. A name engraved on it."
"Tom Riddle. Sounded very Muggle to me."
Voldemort stopped talking.
The next second, green light flared.
"Avada Kedavra."
Faced with Voldemort's furious strike, Leonardo simply dodged the Killing Curse.
The instant he moved, a black wisp of smoke shot out and snatched the crystal phial from the table.
Leonardo flicked his wand. Spells of every colour streaked toward it, but the snake‑like mist coiled nimbly past them all.
The smoke carried the phial back to Voldemort.
Looking at the potion, he could not help laughing.
"Leonardo, you are still too young."
Leonardo watched him gloat and shook his head. "You are not worried it is poison?"
"I have my means of detection. And this is brimming with life and magic."
Voldemort unstoppered the phial and inhaled lightly, savouring the scent.
"Why would anyone go to the trouble of brewing poison with the Philosopher's Stone? Boy, you are too green."
As Voldemort drained the potion in one gulp, Leonardo only pointed his wand at the worktable.
The glow of Transfiguration wrapped around it.
What normally took an instant now moved slowly.
Magic churned within, reforging and condensing.
As the potion settled in his body, Voldemort watched Leonardo's action and laughed, in high spirits.
"Leonardo, I hear you have a gift for Transfiguration."
"But you must understand: Transfiguration, white magic—they are marvellous, yes, but in raw power, they will always fall short of the Dark Arts."
"Your talent for the Dark Arts is excellent. You have tasted their allure, have you not?"
"The techniques I taught you, you used them smoothly. So why refuse…"
Voldemort droned on. But time ticked past.
And he… did not seem to be feeling much effect.
He was certain he had watched Leonardo brew the potion with the Stone.
Suddenly, his nose cleared a little.
Quirrell's body had been afflicted by cold during the earlier trials. The blocked nasal passages now felt… fine.
"I noticed Professor Quirrell kept sneezing, so I brewed him a Nasal Decongestion Draught. You drank it, but that is all right."
"The Stone does make brewing convenient. Saves time and extends the effect. Hmm. That body probably will not catch a cold all year now."
Voldemort froze. The Philosopher's Stone, used to brew that?
From the depths of his twisted, fractured soul, unspeakable fury erupted.
"You ignorant…"
But before he could finish—
A violent dragon's roar split the air.
Leonardo heard the system notification and smiled with relief.
[Ding. Loki's Faceless (annual loan) has been repaid.]