Hogwarts: I will not become the Dark Lord

Jerry pushed Peter Pettigrew away like a disgusting bug.

In the dilapidated wooden house, a musty, rotten smell permeated the air. In the dim light, Voldemort was huddled like a ghost in the corner of the sofa, an old blanket barely covering his hideous body.

A slender young man stood beside the sofa, warily watching Jerry, the knuckles of his hand gripping his wand white.

"Who is this?" Jerry ignored the young man's hostility, kicking the corpse on the ground with his toe. The corpse was shriveled like firewood, covered in dust, and had obviously been dead for a long time.

"Just an insignificant old Muggle," Voldemort's voice was hoarse and grating, like two rusty pieces of iron rubbing together. "The gardener of the Riddle House. Fifty years ago, I killed that family of three, and they mistakenly took him for the murderer."

"Poor wretch, spent most of his life in prison, and died here a few days after getting out." Voldemort's tone was mocking, as if laughing at the poor man's stupidity and uselessness.

"Let me introduce you," Voldemort's pale fingers pointed to the young man, "Barty Crouch Jr., my most loyal servant."

Jerry sized up Barty Crouch Jr., with his sparse stubble, messy hair, wearing an ill-fitting black robe, his eyes fanatical and dangerous.

Unlike Peter Pettigrew's timid, fearful, and even somewhat resistant gaze, Barty Crouch Jr.'s eyes were filled with fanatical adoration for Voldemort.

"Looks like you escaped from under your father's nose." Jerry's gaze fell on Barty Crouch Jr., his tone calm, but with a hint of imperceptible pressure.

"Haha," Voldemort let out a low laugh, his tone full of sarcasm, "The greatest white wizard of this century, the embodiment of justice, Albus Dumbledore, his grandson is actually the number one wanted criminal of the French Ministry of Magic, how ironic!"

"Alright, Voldemort, what exactly do you want from me?" Jerry interrupted Voldemort's sarcasm impatiently, "I'm not interested in helping you get a comeback!"

"Tsk tsk, how heartless." Voldemort sighed, "Back then, I even served as your first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and now you're unwilling to call me professor!"

"Don't you just need Harry Potter's blood? Why bother so much!" Jerry frowned slightly. Getting Harry's blood was simple. If you bring a bucket, Jerry can fill it for you!

As for whether Harry can handle it, Jerry isn't worried at all. At worst, he'll give him potions while drawing blood. Snape is a genuine potions master!

"It seems you know more than I imagined!" Voldemort's voice became even hoarser, with a hint of icy coldness.

"Did that Apostle girl tell you? Looks like you're good at using your advantages. I heard you even went on vacation? Looks like you successfully gained that girl's trust!"

Jerry shrugged. Do you think everyone is like you? Either playing with snakes or deceiving ghosts, more like Ning Caichen than Xu Xian!

"But it's not that simple. How can my return not be witnessed!" Voldemort said proudly, "But don't worry, there aren't many places where I need your help. I've already planned everything!"

"I've always had a question I wanted to ask you," Jerry frowned as he looked at Voldemort, his tone with a hint of inquiry, "Grindelwald established the Global Wizarding Empire to overthrow the Statute of Secrecy and establish a wizard-supremacist world, but what about you?"

Voldemort did not answer directly, his scarlet snake pupils narrowed slightly, as if scrutinizing the boy in front of him.

Silence spread between the two, and an invisible pressure permeated the air.

"I ask you, do you think this world is fair?" Voldemort suddenly opened his mouth, his voice low and hoarse, as if squeezed out from the depths of his throat.

"I think it's pretty fair!" Jerry was stunned by the question. He really couldn't understand why Voldemort would ask such a childish question, so he replied casually.

"Heh heh," Voldemort let out a low chuckle, as if he had heard a ridiculous joke, echoing in the empty room, "Of course you would think it's fair!"

"To be honest, sometimes even I am jealous of you!" Voldemort's voice suddenly rose, with a hint of suppressed anger and unspeakable jealousy, "Haven't you noticed, we are actually quite similar?"

"The same house, the same extraordinary talent, the same ambition, even we both grew up in orphanages, but..." Voldemort's scarlet snake pupils stared at Jerry, as if to see through him.

"I don't believe you haven't secretly researched dark magic, haven't secretly gone to the restricted section of the library, but Dumbledore is always generous to you, even turning a blind eye!"

Jerry: ?? What level are you, what level am I?

What is your relationship with Dumbledore, what is my relationship with Dumbledore? Can that be the same? I'm family!

He really wanted to tell Voldemort that he was actually researching dark magic openly at Hogwarts and freely entering and exiting the restricted section of the library, and even Grindelwald would sometimes personally guide him in dark curses!

"This world is so unfair!" Voldemort roared, his voice echoing in the empty room, shaking the dust down.

"But these are nothing, and I just want to live forever. Why is it that even someone as powerful as me only has a little over a hundred years of life, while those mediocre people who just eat and wait to die have over a hundred years of life? Why do they live so long!"

"Tell me, child, did I do something wrong? What right does Dumbledore have to say I'm wrong!" Voldemort's scarlet eyes stared at Jerry, "Those ants who died at my hands... just like this old Muggle..."

"Why! Why do I possess powerful magic, but can only watch myself pass away with time, eventually turning into a pile of dust! These ants, what do they know about magic, what do they know about power, why can they have the same lifespan as me!"