Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Water Margin

Chapter 108 The Patronus Spirit Sucks Tom

Chapter 109 The Patronus Spirit Sucks Tom

Harry, upon hearing the Sorting Hat's words, simply waved his wand, and as it flew towards him, he bit the tip of the hat in one bite.

"Ouch! Be gentle, you're biting me!"

Harry didn't answer, but reached into his hat with his right hand and suddenly felt something between his fingers, cold as ice and hard as iron.

He suddenly pulled it outwards, and a fine sword appeared in his hand.

This sword is two feet seven or eight inches long, its entire body is as white as snow or silver, and it exudes a chilling aura that reflects one's face; it is certainly not an ordinary item.

Tom frowned upon seeing this. "The Gryffindor sword?"

"You're really lucky, Potter. You know, I've been looking for it for seven whole years."

The Sorting Hat exclaimed, "Ha! You won't find it even if you search for seven more years! Only a true Gryffindor can obtain Godric's sword!"

Listen, dear reader: The Gryffindor sword has always been hidden in the Sorting Hat, waiting for its destined owner. Only a true hero with unwavering courage and steely resolve, and at the critical moment of life and death, can reveal the sword's gleaming light.

A wicked and vicious scoundrel like Tom, even with a steel knife pressed against his neck, the Gryffindor sword would show him no mercy.

Tom simply snorted, "So what if I can't pull it out? Once I kill Potter, the sword will still be mine."

The Sorting Hat yelled, "Harry! Destroy the diary with the Gryffindor sword!"

"This thing is older than me, this old man refuses to believe it can't destroy a tattered notebook!"

Hagrid heard it clearly, tucked the phoenix chick above his head into his bosom, and pounced straight for the diary.

Tom's eyes flashed with a fierce light. He first used a Transfiguration Charm, and the two stone bricks turned into two blue-scaled stone pythons, blocking Harry's way.

He pointed his wand at Hagrid again, and the stone slab beneath his feet suddenly turned into mud, his feet sinking straight up to his knees. No matter how much his veins bulged, he couldn't struggle at all.

Seeing that the situation had stabilized, Tom sneered, "A little brat and a big oaf, a hat and a bird, you think you can kill me?"

He was about to cast a spell on the diary when Hagrid acted faster, suddenly pulling the eight-ribbed pink parasol from his robes and shouting:

"The diary has flown away!"

Tom's expression changed. Those idiots at the Ministry of Magic! They didn't even break his wand!

The diary, carried by a chilling wind, hurtled straight at Harry's face. Harry neither dodged nor evaded; instead, the veins in his right arm bulged as he drew his Gryffindor sword, letting out a thunderous roar as he slashed through the air.

With a muffled thud, the notebook fell to the ground, seemingly cast from solid iron, completely undamaged, without even a scratch.

A long silence fell over the secret room. Tom relaxed and sneered, "I almost fell for your trick, Hat."

"It seems that the Gryffindor sword is not as powerful as I thought; it couldn't even cause the slightest damage to my Horcrux."

Harry suddenly remembered Tom's words when his arm was severed, and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly turned around, held the Gryffindor sword firmly, and thrust it straight at his own bruised arm.

The moment the sword tip pierced the flesh, a "hiss" was heard, and a gush of black blood gushed out like a spring, splashing continuously onto the ground. A wisp of smoke rose from the stone bricks, hissing and crackling, as countless holes were etched into them.

Tom sensed something was wrong and shouted, "What are you going to do?"

"Ha! Today I'll see whether your bird-shaped soul weapon's shell is harder, or that snake monster's fangs are more venomous!"

"Avada!"

Tom had only uttered half of the Killing Curse when Harry's wrist flicked, the sword flashing like a meteor, striking the diary with a "thud." Instantly, black ink splattered, like spilled black blood, hissing and crackling.

"Ughhhhh!!!"

Tom suddenly let out a terrible scream, which shook the secret room and caused dust to fall.

Though the sword pierced the book, it seemed to gouge out the depths of his soul. His body trembled violently, and a dark crack appeared out of nowhere in his chest, his shadow flickering, as if he were about to dissipate.

The Sorting Hat exclaimed, "Ah! I almost forgot, the Gryffindor sword can absorb substances that strengthen it!"

Tom struggled on, dropping his wand and shouting, "Harry, stop! I accept you!"

"We can share this world together—"

Harry burst into laughter, interrupting him and shouting, "You scoundrel! You dare to bargain with me even when you're about to die? Wait till I slaughter you, and then I'll rule the world!"

Having said that, he drew his sword and plunged it in again, then gripped the hilt tightly and twisted it forcefully.

"Ughhhhhh!!!"

"Rupert! You don't want me to die, do you? I can testify for you and clear your name!"

As the old saying goes, "A man doesn't easily shed tears, only when he's truly heartbroken." Tom's words were like steel needles piercing to the bone, each sentence like salt stains on blood, stabbing straight into Hagrid's old wounds, making him tremble.

"Shut up, Riddle!"

"You bastard, you ruined my life!"

"I'd be willing to go to Azkaban just to see you killed!"

Seeing that he couldn't persuade either of them, Tom peeled off the dough, revealing his true colors.

"Wait... just wait, Potter!"

"My original soul is still here! He will come to kill you, carrying this hatred within him!"

"You will repay me a hundredfold for the torment you inflicted on me today!"

Harry heard him mention souls, and a thought struck him. He thrust his sword forcefully into the notebook, then picked up his wand and chanted "Patriot."

A flash of light appeared at the tip of the staff, and out sprang a large, white-browed tiger with piercing eyes.

Tom knew he was doomed today, but even as his soul was about to perish, he still had to speak out with sarcasm.

"Fool, do you think the Guardian Angel can defeat me?"

Suddenly, the worm let out a low growl like a muffled thunderclap, its bloody mouth wide open, spewing out a foul-smelling black fumes.

The black mist lingered in the air, churning and rolling, and in an instant condensed into a soul-devouring ghost.

"Dementors? Your Patronus can control Dementors?!"

Seeing the mind-stealing ghost drifting towards him, Tom cried out, "What are you doing?!"

Harry's face had long since turned pale, but he still laughed and said, "This big worm of mine has a good capacity; adding another one wouldn't be too much of a problem."

"You bastard! You disgusting thing! Get out of here!"

Tom's harsh words were to no avail.

The vengeful spirit got closer, its two thin, withered hands cupping Tom's head, and then it turned its head to kiss him passionately.

"Merlin's beard," the Sorting Hat grinned. "What sins did I commit in my past life to witness such a scene?"

This soul-devouring monster was ferocious; in no time, Tom was already dazed, devoid of all emotions and desires, his memories of his past life completely drained.

Harry intended to urge the worm to devour Tom as well, but unexpectedly, the creature's soul dissipated in an instant, and it vanished without a trace in just a few breaths.

With the situation now settled, Harry was able to sit cross-legged and cast seven or eight spells on the severed arm to stop the bleeding and promote tissue regeneration.

Just then, Salazar in his arms suddenly spoke, "Harry, that Tom, he's not dead yet."

Harry's heart tightened, and he quickly drew his wand, only to hear a loud tearing sound from the pool.

(End of this chapter)