The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 198, Section 197: Herbo and the Mystery of the Curse

Chapter 198, Section 197: Herbo and the Mystery of the Curse

"this……"

A barely perceptible mark was reflected in his eyes, but Riddle, who occupied Malfoy's body, seemed unaware of it. He merely raised his hand and rubbed his eyes, seemingly feeling some discomfort.

Upon seeing this.

The mysterious man in the black robe merely curled his lips into a strange smile.

The gloomy temple resembled a long-abandoned ruin.

It's as if it has been forgotten by time for many years.

There were only two people in the entire hall, which spanned several thousand square meters: Riddle, who possessed Malfoy's body, and the snake-faced wizard who called himself Helbo.

He was tall and imposing, shrouded in a large black cloak, exuding a cold and powerful aura that blended somewhat with his surroundings.

The walls here are made of rough, black rock, covered with eerie vines that writhe slightly in the darkness, as if they were alive. The air is filled with a damp, decaying smell, mixed with a faint sulfurous odor that makes one want to vomit—perhaps because it is located on Mount Vesuvius, a place few dare to approach.

Despite the significant mental shock Riddle experienced and the unexpected turn of events that caught him off guard, he secretly continued to investigate his location after regaining his senses.

After all, he was destined to become the Dark Lord, so he possessed a certain composure and shrewdness. Of course, even so, he was still quite surprised by the identity revealed by the being who had forcibly moved him here.

"Helpo... the legendary wizard Helpo... how is this possible? Helpo shouldn't be from this era." Riddle's mind was filled with doubts about the identity of the person in front of him.

He is a very suspicious person and would never easily believe what others say.

"It seems you know a lot about history."

Herbo's voice echoed throughout the hall.

His serpentine face wore a slight smile, clearly indicating that this wizard, who didn't seem to follow the right path, had undergone extremely twisted magical modifications to his body, much like the future Voldemort.

No.

Perhaps it should be said that Voldemort's magical modification methods were very likely based on the experience passed down from Helbo to later generations, which is why Riddle was horrified when he saw Helbo's snake face.

"You yourself said I'm your apprentice, so of course I know my teacher very well." Riddle didn't press further, even though he still didn't choose to believe the mysterious wizard before him. Besides being suspicious, the young Tom Riddle was also very good at assessing situations.

"Hahaha, indeed, you must have collected quite a few of my surviving works." Herbo seemed to be in a good mood, perhaps because he hadn't been flattered in a long time.

of course.

This could also be a disguise by Helbo to put Riddle at ease and to get closer to him. No one can guess what kind of personality a dark wizard of this level truly has.

Even Riddle, who had once again begun to call himself the Dark Lord, found him unpredictable.

He could only speak as cautiously as possible, "I believe you must have saved my life from those Night's Watch members, but I don't quite understand why you chose to save me."

"Is it because I was your apprentice in the future?" Riddle was not confused that Helpo knew his origins; a skilled wizard could detect any subtle differences in others.

In response to Riddle's questioning.

Haibo's lips curled up slightly.

"Isn't that reason enough? My dear apprentice, you are the most intelligent and talented child I have ever seen. Of course I should cherish such a hard-won successor as you."

His tone sounded quite sincere, as if he were telling the truth, but Riddle felt increasingly heavy-hearted. This young and ambitious Dark Lord couldn't believe even a single punctuation mark from Helbo.

"But I come from many years in the future."

Riddle was expressing his distrust in an extremely subtle way. His constantly sweaty hands gripped his wand tightly, as if only the wand could bring him any sense of security.

"Does it matter? No, little one. When you reach my level, you'll understand that the span of time is meaningless. What matters is only inheritance and shared ideals."

Helbo turned and walked to the temple window. Looking out from the vine-covered window, he could see the entire ancient city of Pompeii beneath the volcano, as well as several other cities.

"Tom Riddle, or rather... Voldemort," Halpert said softly. He had clearly read Riddle's memories, a fact that infuriated Riddle but prevented him from retaliating.

"We are very similar, really. We both know how to exploit the loopholes in history and how to achieve our goals in times of disaster. Perhaps the only difference is that I was born earlier than you."

"That's why I was the first to realize the value of time and history, even before you. You, on the other hand, can only be described as a beginner who has just stepped into this field."

Helpo's voice was deep, carrying undisguised arrogance and contempt. A flicker of resentment flashed in Riddle's eyes upon hearing this, but he quickly suppressed his emotions.

Even though Helbo was facing away from Riddle, Riddle gripped his wand tightly and didn't dare to launch another sneak attack. Perhaps this was the self-control that only a sixteen-year-old like him possessed. This stemmed from fear. If Voldemort, who had lost most of his emotions at other times, had come here, he probably would have chosen to recklessly attack without hesitation.

Seeing that Riddle had chosen to remain silent.

Helbo also withdrew his gaze and turned to look at his apprentice with a meaningful expression.

"Please don't be angry. In fact, the fact that you could even think of such a path already makes me admire you enough. We are very similar; we both know how to use historical catastrophes to achieve our own goals. But I am different from you. I am not only after power or immortality, but I am also pursuing a higher possibility."

"It is this loftier ideal that allows me to have a superior plan and more reaping rewards than you." Helbo smiled, his cold, snake-like eyes holding a hint of profundity.

"What's the possibility?"

Riddle frowned slightly, but couldn't help asking the question.

In this regard.

Helbo responded softly, "Of course, it's the ideal and ambition that a wizard should truly possess, a possibility that even Merlin never touched."

His words startled Riddle.

"Merlin?"

To be honest, before choosing to use Ian's time machine to travel back in time, Riddle never imagined he would be involved in such a situation. He thought that even if there were wizards in Pompeii, they would be a bunch of useless wizards.

who ever thought.

Not only did they witness the temple and the evidence of the gods' true existence, but they also encountered a legendary wizard named Herpo who actually mentioned Merlin, the King of Wizards.

The Dark Lord also felt that he was about to reach his limit.

"You want to surpass Merlin?"

Riddell saw Helbo nod.

He only felt a tightness in his throat.

Merlin is a legendary figure in the magical world, hailed as the most powerful wizard in history. And this person before us claims to surpass Merlin?

How arrogant!

How...terrible!

"That's right, Merlin." Herpo's voice carried a hint of disdain. "He was indeed powerful, but he was ultimately just a mortal, a mortal bound by time and fate. As for me, I am no longer a legend, nor am I a mortal. I have transcended the boundaries of magic and become a higher being—an angel."

The infamous, legendary black wizard had an arrogant expression as he spread his arms wide. In the dark shadows beneath his feet, one could almost see a pair of winged figures.

"What angel?"

Riddle's pupils contracted sharply, a storm raging within him. This term was almost never mentioned in the magical world, making it completely incomprehensible to Riddle what it meant.

of course.

Regardless of what angels represent.

It is clearly more powerful than the legendary.

"In the face of death, I found a treasure, which I claimed and merged with my soul. This allowed me to overcome death and see the infinite possibilities ahead..."

Helbo seemed to have no intention of hiding anything. He pointed to the wings cast by the shadows at his feet, which might be the treasure he was talking about.

"You want to tell me you've defeated Death? That's no laughing matter," Riddle said coldly, trying to hide his inner surprise and uncertainty.

"It seems you don't understand my power." Helbo didn't answer, but slowly raised his hand, displaying a certain power. Riddle felt a sharp pain in his brain. He clutched his forehead and roared. Only after Helbo lowered his raised hand did he feel the pain slowly dissipate.

"You can attack my soul directly without using magic?"

Riddle's tone was somewhat incredulous.

however.

Helbo shook his head in response to his terrified question.

Look at your feet.

He offered a reminder.

Riddle, catching his breath, looked down in confusion, his gaze shifting from fear to horror. There he was, Malfoy with his platinum-blonde hair, lying at his feet.

And he… Riddle raised his hand in disbelief, touched his face and felt his heart beating; he had actually been given a new life!

And I also have a young body that belongs to me and is full of vitality!

"This...how is this possible! You can reverse death!? So easily, so simply, without any cost..." Riddle's voice was low, his legs weak with a hint of fear.

Seeing his reaction.

Haierbo was very satisfied.

"This is an angel, a rank above legend." He seemed completely unconcerned about the astonishing act he had just committed, his tone indifferent, his snake eyes fixed on Riddle not far away.

"You've become so powerful, far more powerful than anyone else. You could even conquer this world!" Riddle's exclamation at this moment was absolutely heartfelt.

"Look, this is the difference between you and me. Your thinking is too narrow. Why should I conquer the world? All I need is to truly break through the levels that magic cannot reach."

Helpo stared at Riddle, whose expression was one of surprise and uncertainty.

"What I want is... to become a god."

His words were like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Riddle's heart was instantly filled with utter astonishment! Godhood? This ambition far exceeded his wildest imagination. He had thought his pursuit of immortality and supreme power was already insane enough, but this person before him actually wanted to transcend the boundaries of magic and become a god?

This is real madness!

"That's impossible!"

Riddle almost instinctively retorted. He considered himself ambitious and had an insatiable thirst for power, but compared to Helpo, he seemed insignificant. Becoming a god was a goal he had never even considered. In his view, the power of the magical world was already immense enough, and becoming a god was simply a pipe dream.

Helbo chuckled, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Impossible? Ha! Nothing is impossible for me. Merlin is nothing but mediocrity before me!"

He may indeed be very arrogant and conceited, but he does have the capital to be arrogant. This formidable power is the source of his confidence to despise Merlin.

He noticed that Riddle's expression kept changing.

"I have traversed countless ages, witnessing countless disasters and destructions. From these calamities, I have drawn endless power. Now, I stand at the pinnacle of the magical world, only one step away from breaking through that boundary and becoming a true god—this is the foreseeable future."

"Tom Riddle, your talent and intelligence have shown me a potential ally. Join me, become my subordinate, and you will gain far more than you can foresee."

Helpo extended his withered arm to Riddell.

Riddle hesitated.

He was clearly struggling internally.

suddenly.

"What if I refuse?"

Riddle asked in a low voice, his tone tinged with a hint of probing.

Helbo's smile turned eerie and cold.

"Refuse? Then you will be trapped in this era forever, becoming dust in history. As for me, I will continue my journey, searching for the next person willing to follow me."

He waved gently.

"And this is what might happen to you."

As soon as he finished speaking, Riddle perceived that the entire space suddenly distorted into a kaleidoscope. Countless mirrors reflected his different endings in different timelines.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

Without exception.

They all died without a burial place.

"Fate is the sharpest dagger."

Helbo's voice came simultaneously from all dimensions.

"And I want to remove its venomous fangs for you."

He showed Riddle all sorts of possible futures, including one where Ian would have to call out the original storyline, and another where they would be stuck in Pompeii and wiped out by the gods.

"Stop!"

Riddle let out a roar, unable to bear it any longer.

His pupils throbbed with an unprecedented fear.

"What do you want me to do?"

After Helbo withdrew his "supernatural powers," Riddle lay on the ground, panting heavily. He felt a pair of cold, withered arms lift him up from the floor.

"I want you to lift up the throne for me, and I will not keep this glory to myself." He extended an olive branch to Riddle once again, but this time, Riddle seemed to have made up his mind.

"It seems I really have no other choice."

Riddell responded.

A fair hand and a withered hand clasped together.

"Welcome to the team, Riddle." Herpo's voice rang in Riddle's ears, tinged with a sinister smile. "From this day forward, we will pursue together that possibility that transcends all."

His words sent shivers down Riddle's spine.

It wasn't excitement.

Rather, it was a feeling that was hard to describe.

"I hope so."

Riddle looked at the extraordinary being before him.

"Of course."

Helbo was still smiling.

His laughter sounded particularly eerie in the dimly lit temple.

……

Time passed quickly, and after the sun set, night fell like a huge black silk ribbon, gently yet undeniably covering the ancient city of Pompeii. The moonlight, like water, gently spilled onto the mottled stone pavement, draping this ancient city, which had been sleeping for over two thousand years, in a silvery veil.

It was so beautiful and peaceful.

No one could perceive the tranquility before the apocalypse.

As night deepened, fog began to permeate the ancient city. The oil lamps along the street emitted a faint glow, the halo of light swaying uncertainly in the fog. The exquisite patterns carved on the stone walls appeared and disappeared under the moonlight.

Inside the underground palace of the ancient temple.

The priestess was already yawning out of boredom.

"What exactly are you doing?"

She had brought Ian more than ten basins of hot water, and Ian kept repeating the same thing—cutting off a piece of Patient Zero's body tissue into the basin and then starting to mutter to himself.

"Where does it come from... I need the truth... Where does it come from..." The little wizard's incessant repetition of the complicated incantation had made the "priestess" tired of hearing it.

"You're not thinking of making a prophecy, are you?"

The "priestess," who was not very familiar with the spell system of later generations, seemed to realize something only after more than ten hours.

however.

She asked, somewhat bewildered.

Ian, with his brows furrowed, did not respond.

"I didn't do anything wrong... why can't I get the skills to activate?" He muttered to himself, saying things that even the goddess couldn't understand, staring at his personal panel in disbelief.

Despite some reluctance, the little wizard practiced diligently for the first time ever, but the magical abilities that should have appeared on his personal panel remained completely unseen.

Or rather, not a single bit of experience points appeared. This was absolutely unexpected for Ian. Admittedly, he knew he had no talent for this subject.

But the current situation cannot be explained by a lack of talent at all.

"I'm completely immune to divination?!" Ian covered his face in disbelief, wanting to wash his face with hot water but finding the black human tissue sloshing around inside too harsh on his skin.

"You actually want to find the truth through prophecy?!" Hearing the little wizard's painful groans, the "priestess" was astonished, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"If you could just tell me the answer directly, I wouldn't need to waste my time here." Ian rolled his eyes, having tried for the umpteenth time to get information out of the goddess.

This time.

The goddess did not evade the question.

They were probably genuinely shocked by Ian's "prophetic" actions.

"Under normal circumstances, I could certainly find the answer by following the passage of time, but not now," the goddess, still in her "priestess" form, said helplessly to Ian.

The little wizard frowned.

"Why? Because disaster is imminent?"

He didn't hide the fact that he knew about the Pompeii apocalypse.

"Of course not, neither can your muddled brain nor I explain the priority of the influence of time and the future," the "priestess" said in a gentle voice with a sigh.

"You just need to understand that fate will always be on your side." Her words were full of cryptic meaning, which the young wizard sensed was profound.

"Explain in detail, don't be a riddle teller."

Ian's eyes flickered slightly.

He was just about to ask a question.

The "priestess" suddenly looked towards the stairwell.

"You see, I couldn't even have foreseen this kind of change."

A sigh came from the mysterious goddess, followed by footsteps at the top of the stairs. Ryan arrived in the underground room with a man in black robes.

Priest Ryan bowed to the goddess first, then to Ian, before speaking, "This man says he knows you and has what you desire."

Priest Ryan's words made Ian pause for a moment.

"I don't think anyone would have what I want." The little wizard's response was very direct, his eyes looking strangely at the figure completely wrapped in a black robe.

Priest Ryan also looked at the man in black robes with a puzzled expression.

The man in black robes was not alarmed.

"You came here because you want me, didn't you?"

All I saw was...

The man in the black robe slowly removed his hood, revealing a pale and handsome face.

"Walking right into a trap!?"

Ian was stunned when he saw the face—yes, Tom Riddle, the young Dark Lord, spoke slowly in a low voice under Ian's somewhat surprised gaze.

"No! I call this coming to ask for help!" Riddle denied Ian's choice of words, raising both hands to cover the corners of his eyes, his tone heavy and tinged with panic.

"I'll go back with you, surrender to Dumbledore, surrender to the Ministry of Magic, and I'll be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of my life." Riddle squeezed his eyeballs hard.

Unlike before in the dark temple, Riddle's voice was filled with fear, a sense of dread. Clearly, Riddle was not unaware of Helbo's machinations.

Therefore.

He made a choice that no one had anticipated.

"But... even if it's just for that Malfoy child, you must save me!" Riddle's eyes reflected an image completely different from his surroundings.

That's the mark of Herbo.

It is also the curse that Ian is searching for...

(End of this chapter)