I, the Dark Lord, will definitely be a good principal!

Angell's smile suddenly took on a mocking tone.

"Hasn't the burning pain from that scar on your forehead given you a clue about the truth yet?"

"That fool Voldemort tried to end you with the Killing Curse, but instead, he stuck his broken soul fragments to you like an inescapable slug."

"It's funny, isn't it?"

"That's why you can hear Parsley's voice, why your scars burn when he gets close, and why you can see his thoughts in your dreams. It's because you're not only the one chosen in the prophecy, but you've also unintentionally become one of his Horcruxes."

"Hordeals, Harry, do you understand Horcruxes?"

Harry nodded. Angor had told him this before—but that was after most of Voldemort's Horcruxes had been destroyed.

"So that's why I can see images related to him in my dreams? Is there a part of my soul... that belongs to him?"

“That’s absolutely right. Now I need to put you to sleep, awaken that part of your soul, and then use that part of your soul to locate Voldemort’s position.”

But Harry seemed to suddenly remember something, and his face turned pale.

His voice trembled slightly: "Angol... I remember you once told me that if Voldemort's Horcruxes were not destroyed, his soul would remain in this world forever and could not be killed."

"I am his last Horcrux, do I... have to die?"

Harry thought that this was probably the real reason why Angor wanted to take him along to face Voldemort.

His breathing became heavy, and a feeling of resentment towards Angell rose in his heart in an instant.

Harry wasn't afraid of death, because his death was a necessary condition for killing Voldemort.

Moreover, he had prepared himself for death before coming here. He knew this was a war, and war inevitably involves bloodshed.

But why couldn't he have been told sooner?

If he knew he would die, he could prepare himself, say goodbye to everyone, and then face death with equanimity.

Instead of what we are doing now, where we haven't had time to do anything.

Angor looked at him with pity. In the original story, even Dumbledore thought Harry was doomed—it was the true ownership of the Elder Wand that saved Harry, causing Voldemort's spell to only hit the part of his own soul.

However, Voldemort has not yet obtained the Elder Wand; it was Angor who defeated Dumbledore, and the Elder Wand naturally falls into Angor's hands.

Angor didn't want to hand it over, but even if he were willing to, he would stage another fake duel, lose to Harry in the duel, and Voldemort wouldn't use the Elder Wand.

So this time, Harry is really going to die.

“Actually, we don’t necessarily have to kill Voldemort.” Angell looked into Harry’s eyes and said very sincerely.

“We can restore him to his previous weak state, then lock him up. That way, the problem can still be solved, and you won’t die.”

“Harry…” Angor sighed, his tone becoming extremely slow, his voice filled with reluctance: “I don’t want to see you die, really, this is the best solution that my teacher and I have discussed.”

There was silence.

Harry was breathing deeply, his temples throbbing as if an out-of-control hourglass was pouring sand into his head.

He didn't know what he was thinking or what kind of expression he should make.

A scale emerged in his mind: on one side was his own life, and on the other was Voldemort's return.

"Angol, I don't want to run away anymore..."

Harry's voice became very hoarse.

He looked at Angell and said, word by word.

"I know what awaits me... death? I don't care anymore, I really don't care."

"From the moment my parents fell for me, from the funerals of your father and Mr. Weasley, from the moment countless innocent people died painfully because of Voldemort... there was no turning back in this war."

"Without killing Voldemort, the wizarding world will forever remain under his shadow. I have seen too much despair and suffered too much loss. I cannot let any more people suffer because of him."

"Death? It has never been the most terrifying thing. If it means paying with my life to end this war, to end fear and sorrow... then I... am willing!"

Angell admitted that he was somewhat moved at that moment.

He disdained kindness and felt that many beautiful things in the world were nothing but rotten flesh beneath the surface. But now, with Harry's voice, he could truly feel his own heartbeat.

It was a feeling that was both painful and pleasurable—like a corpse that had been submerged in water for a long time being pulled to the surface and bathed in sunlight.

A long time ago, when he had just graduated, he seemed to have had similar thoughts.

He parted the tangled roots, pruned the haphazardly growing branches, and let the sunlight spill into every corner of the land... When did he begin to change?

Can not remember.

He can no longer find his original childlike innocence, but he is still moved by it.

He took a step forward and hugged Harry.

“Harry… thank you. I will never forget you, and no one will forget you.”

Harry felt something cold drip into his collar, but the sensation was so fleeting that he wondered if it was just his imagination.

“Angol…”

"Um……"

"Let's hurry, I'm worried that Voldemort will take this time to attack other places... The main force of the Wizarding League is all gathered here, if Voldemort attacks other places, I don't know how many people will die."

Angel closed his eyes. He suddenly felt a little tired, but there was still a lot to do.

Releasing Harry, Angor stepped back and handed him the potion.

Then, Angor turned to Dumbledore, who had been standing silently to the side, and asked, "Teacher, what should we do now?"

Dumbledore walked over and gently patted Harry on the shoulder: "Drink the potion, you have to fall asleep."

“Harry…I’m so sorry.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore, opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say.

He was willing to sacrifice himself for the wizarding world, which is why he was able to say those words just now. But now, facing the two people in front of him, he seemed to have suddenly lost all his strength.

In the end, Harry simply shook his head, a wry smile appearing on his face.

"Professor, if you continue to be so sentimental, I won't be able to muster the courage to face death."

As soon as he finished speaking, he raised his head and drank the potion in his hand in one gulp.