Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 519 "The Chosen One"

"Like a clown trying to attract attention, just to get the slightest bit of attention."

Upon seeing this sentence in the diary, Voldemort felt a surge of heat rush to his head.

He wished he could tear up the diary right now and burn the place to the ground.

But soon, the remaining rationality in Voldemort's mind stopped him—

As Voldemort raised his wand to unleash Fiendfire, for some reason, he suddenly realized that what Gellert Grindelwald had written in his journal was true—

Suddenly, his past ridiculous behavior flashed before his eyes, his twisted and obsessive pursuit of power and bloodline, just as Gellert Grindelwald had said—

Voldemort transformed himself into a clown.

"A true Dark Lord is not just about having great power. Of course, I don't deny that power is the most crucial factor in becoming a Dark Lord. But a true Dark Lord is a reformer, a lawbreaker, a warrior who destroys the old world, and a pioneer of the new world."

"Power is merely the foundation, domination is the means, but an invincible ideology is the eternal soul of a dark lord."

"Or rather, my thoughts are my invincible weapon."

"My thoughts, or rather my desires, have never changed. I hope that after I become a god, there will be no more distinction between wizards and Muggles, no more distinction between humans and non-human beings, no more oppression, no more exploitation, no more pure-blood families and Muggle capitalists who ride roughshod over a minority, no more royalty, no more nobles, no more poverty, no more injustice, and no more discrimination."

"Under my rule, no life will be wasted; they will strive for a common and higher goal."

"Under the laws I designate, every intelligent life will have equal access to education, every life will start from the same point, every intelligent life will enjoy equal social wealth, and with effort, everyone can reap a bright future and have a brilliant life."

"me too."

"I hope that after I succeed, they will no longer call me the Dark Lord, they will no longer call me the leader, I hope they will call me comrade, sir, or teacher."

"I am one of the mortals. My thoughts and theories are the correct products of the will and practical labor of mortals. They are the most rational epistemology and methodology, the blood of all laborers, rebels and revolutionaries, and the sum total of all proletarians' transformation of the world."

"Foolish!" Voldemort cursed viciously. He originally wanted to throw the diary on the ground, but after thinking about it, he obediently put the diary back in its original place on the bookshelf.

"Possessing such extraordinary talent and such immense power, how could he possibly pity those ants and slaves?" Voldemort picked up another diary and quickly flipped through it—

"Disgusting!" Voldemort shoved the diary back into its original place and picked up another one to begin examining it.

Voldemort didn't know why, but Gellert Grindelwald seemed to really enjoy keeping a diary. Not only did he enjoy it, but he meticulously recorded every detail. Ever since Dumbledore secretly moved him here in 1945, he had kept a diary almost every day, recording not only his research and calculations, but also his inner thoughts and every single moment he spent with Albus Dumbledore.

This made Voldemort seem to smell a nauseating stench in these diaries.

Moreover, they were all written in English.

Voldemort clearly remembered that Grindelwald was German, so why didn't he use German?
Voldemort cursed as he continued flipping through the diaries on the bookshelf, searching for entries in Grindelwald's journal related to "the ritual of becoming a god," "research," and "deduction." Finally, when Voldemort reached the fifth diary on the third shelf, he found what he was looking for—

"1971.4.23
After decades of deduction and consulting the contents of the anonymous sacrificial book, I finally found, or rather confirmed, the reason for the failure of the deification ritual—

The wizard's is incomplete, fragmented.

To be precise, wizards were created by a deity beyond our imagination—

Like Adam and Eve in the Bible, wizards are a group of beings separated from the race we call Muggles by unknown means.

In other words, wizards and Muggles were the same at the beginning.

No, it's different. In the very beginning, wizards were incomplete aliens. They were like our house-elves today—ugly, fragile, incomplete, and even on the verge of death. If it weren't for that great god constantly feeding us with divine fruits, the original wizards might not have even survived their generation.

After that, the great gods caused the first few wizards to mate with each other, producing offspring. The strong were kept, while the weak and deformed were abandoned, much like how humans select pugs or teddy bears. After several generations, the ancestors of the so-called pure-blooded families were born.

Based on my speculation, the earliest pure-blood wizards were simply born as servants, or even tools, of great gods.

But for some reason, the gods set our ancestors free—

More accurately, the gods abandoned their creations.

Our wizard ancestors were freed.

The first pure-blood family was born.

Because of the divine fruit that fed us, we possess individual strength far exceeding that of Muggles.

However, our genes are incomplete, so pure-blooded wizards may be able to get infinitely close to that divine dimension, but they can never reach the other side of divinity.

I need a new body.

A wizard's offspring born from a pure-blooded mother who has undergone hybridization to the point of mutation and a completely Muggle father.

Voldemort read this sentence over and over again.

An intense feeling of surprise and joy brewed within him, and then exploded.

He used to loathe his mother and his father so much, but now he felt that it all made perfect sense, as if it were all a predetermined arrangement of fate.

“Ha, Tom actually believed it.” In the hall of the Ministry of Magic, Tyrell held a glass of red wine and said to Dumbledore with a smile, “He really thinks he’s the chosen one.”

(End of this chapter)