A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

"Purify me?" Voldemort was stunned at first, then laughed angrily.

His eyes flashed with furious red light, and he tried to stand up. However, his healthy legs seemed to be cursed and tangled together uncontrollably.

"You stupid bunch...ah!" Before he finished speaking, he rolled down from the audience like a circus clown.

Bang! Bang! Bang...

Voldemort's head and chin hit the cold and hard stone steps one after another, making a dull sound that made people's teeth ache. Blood flowed down his cheeks, leaving dark red marks on the ground.

Finally, he fell heavily to the ground, supported himself with his hands, raised his head stubbornly, and his eyes burned with unyielding anger.

The wizards around were originally frightened and retreated, ready to flee. But when they heard and saw that the once dreaded Dark Lord was so embarrassed, they couldn't help laughing for a while.

"Puff..." Someone laughed out loud, and hurriedly covered his mouth with his hands, fearing that he would anger Voldemort.

Rogge looked at the other's legs that had lost control, thinking about something, and whispered: "Voldemort, are you injured?"

Voldemort's eyes turned red when he heard this, like a wounded beast. He climbed up the chair with difficulty, gritting his teeth and said: "Are you sympathizing with me? Or do you think that the great Lord Voldemort needs your pitiful sympathy!"

He glared at Rogge fiercely, and then turned his eyes to Dumbledore. In Voldemort's heart, no one in the entire magic world except Dumbledore could impose such a serious curse on him.

However, when he met Dumbledore's blue eyes that were as calm as water, he saw a trace of unexpected... pity?

"No, this is impossible!" Voldemort blinked in disbelief, trying to correct his illusion.

When he stared into those blue eyes again, he could neither see the expected joy or pride, nor the pity he thought he had just thought. Instead, there was a barely perceptible solemnity.

Putting aside his position and danger, Tom Riddle is undoubtedly one of the best wizards in the history of Hogwarts.

His talent in spells is amazing. Whether it is white magic, black magic, or those nearly lost ancient magics, Tom can always master their essence at an astonishing speed.

Even without the guidance of a professor, he can teach himself with textbooks. Sometimes, with just a few words, he can also understand the magical secrets contained in it.

This talent allowed him to master the terrible art of cutting souls before graduation and make his first Horcrux. From then on, he was unstoppable, and no one knew how many Horcruxes he had made.

Dumbledore keenly noticed that Lee Jordan's body was intact and his legs were not injured. However, the "puppet master" who controlled him, that is, Voldemort himself, seemed to have lost the ability to walk.

"Is there something wrong with your soul?"

"Hmph, don't be hypocritical." The chair Voldemort sat on was the Wizengamot's judgment chair. He looked lonely and miserable, but exuded a frightening sense of contradiction.

"Who else can hurt me from the soul level except you?" Voldemort gritted his teeth, his voice full of resentment: "Didn't you hide all those books in the principal's office?"

Dumbledore heard this, pondered for a moment, and then turned to look at Roger.

"Principal, I'm not interested in souls." Roger shrugged, "Maybe he made too many Horcruxes, which led to such an accident. Well, it's easier to deal with the disabled Dark Lord this way."

"Is there a way to drive him out of Lee Jordan's body? Or..." He shook his wand, and the dangerous light was ready to go at the tip of the wand.

Everyone in the Wizengamot held their breath and turned their eyes to Dumbledore. Whether pure-blood wizards, ordinary staff, or even Bellingrum, all hope that Dumbledore can make a strong decision: execute the puppet controlled by Voldemort and expel this evil existence.

At this moment, Dumbledore seemed to have become the chief wizard of the Wizengamot again, holding the power to judge the fate of every wizard.

His eyes swept across everyone present, and finally stopped at a familiar face.

"Lucius, do you remember the trial that took place here more than ten years ago?" Dumbledore looked at the pure-bloods behind Roger, his voice gentle but meaningful, "Many of you have followed Voldemort..."

"But we were controlled by Voldemort... the Dark Lord with the Imperius Curse, it's not our fault!" Before he finished speaking, a panicked voice interrupted him.

"You damn traitors!" Lee Jordan roared angrily, his mouth making a vicious hissing sound.

His red eyes swept over Lucius and others one by one, as if he wanted to imprint the faces of these traitors in his heart one by one. Everyone who had followed him and now betrayed him trembled involuntarily under his gaze.

Then, he raised a cruel smile and turned to Dumbledore and Amelia: "I have never used the Mind-stealing Curse to make others pledge allegiance to me."

"Who am I?" His voice was low and intimidating, and the entire Wizengamot fell into a deathly silence because of this sentence.

"I am Voldemort! I am the wizard who makes the entire magical world tremble, and I am the one who wants to rule the entire world. Do I still need to use a spell to control my servants?"

"Dumbledore, you are too deceptive." He smiled contemptuously and began to read out the names of these betrayers: "Lucius, Rookwood, Carlo..."

"You're good, really good!" His voice was full of sarcasm and threat.

"Amelia, your brothers actually died in their hands. This group of innocents, betrayers, and your supporters killed them."

When Amelia heard this, her face instantly turned pale. Her eyes swept across Lucius and others involuntarily, and her heart was filled with contradictions and pain.

Voldemort looked around with playful eyes, and then said: "Now, I will give you a chance."

He opened his arms and embraced the traitors in a broad, generous gesture: "Kneel down and kiss my feet, and I will forgive your folly and accept your allegiance again."

"The slaves who follow me will become the nobles of the new world. Those who betray me..." He cracked the corner of his mouth and showed a cold and ferocious smile: "I will raise the Dark Mark in your home."

"The Dark Mark!"

These four words were like a heavy hammer, hitting the hearts of Lucius and others. Their whole bodies were shivering, their hands and feet were trembling, and their faces instantly turned pale as paper.

As former Death Eaters, they knew better than anyone what that mark meant - the whole family would be brutally tortured and killed by Voldemort. What they did to the Burns family will be repeated to themselves.

Fear surged into their hearts like a tidal wave, almost drowning them.

At the same time, a power of grief and anger spread throughout Amelia's body. Her nails dug into her palms, and the bright red blood hit the floor drop by drop, breaking into countless tiny red dots.

Voldemort, who put down his wand, became even more terrifying. With just a few words, he tore apart the three parties of the Wizengamot.

The infamous Dark Lord personally testified, ruthlessly exposing the lies Lucius and others had made more than a decade ago: they had never been controlled by the Imperius Curse, and all crimes they committed were voluntary.

As the chief magician at the time, Dumbledore easily let these people go without further investigation. Let the murderer who killed Amelia's brother escape the punishment he deserved.

There is no doubt that this is a very serious scandal and malfeasance. In comparison, Barty Sr.'s attempt to save his son by subverting one's priorities does not seem that serious.

Voldemort looked around with a proud smile on his lips. He knew he had succeeded in sowing distrust and fear in the room.

However, the person Amelia hated the most was still him. She was not dazzled by hatred and lies. She knew clearly that the root cause of all this was Voldemort.

What followed was her disappointment and doubts about Albus Dumbledore.

She did not believe that, as the greatest white wizard of this century, Dumbledore could not discern the sophistry of Lucius and others without evidence.

Although she understood intellectually that all this was Voldemort's trick, deep down in her heart she could no longer trust Lucius and others.

This also means that the Ministry of Magic cannot achieve closer cooperation with Lucius and others under her leadership.

Voldemort's words planted a thorn in their hearts, making it impossible for them to unite closely.

What pure-blood wizards who have lost their power and status will do, Voldemort can think of with his heels (he no longer has heels). A magical world with internal chaos and division was exactly what he expected.

Therefore, he showed a generous and generous smile and sat on the judgment chair calmly and happily. He opened his arms like a savior waiting for believers to worship, waiting for traitors to kneel at his feet one by one.

In his imagination, these traitors would be terrified and vying to kowtow to him and beg for mercy. They would kiss the tops of his shoes with the joy of a dog, hold his feet reverently, and beg his forgiveness and acceptance.

Voldemort's eyes flashed with cruelty, and he had already pictured the next scene in his mind: these traitors would be re-implanted with the Dark Mark by him and become his loyal slaves. And finally...

"Hehe." The smile on Voldemort's face was sickly. "In the end, abandon them here and be executed by the Ministry of Magic!"

"Jie Jie Jie!" He laughed wildly in his heart, feeling proud of his perfect plan. "Let you despair, and then give you hope. When you think you have hope, destroy it cruelly. Only death can make me forgive you. betrayal."

He straightened his back, raised his head, and felt endless joy in his heart, "Come on, come on..." He was looking forward to it and calling.

Time passes minute by minute, 1 minute, 2 minutes... 5 minutes.

Voldemort did not wait for the traitors' pleas, but received only silence.

He lowered his arms and glared at Lucius and others, his voice full of disbelief and anger: "Why?"

"Because you are not pure blood, you are a coward." Rogge sneered, "You kept saying that you did not use the Imperius Curse on them."

"However, you use killing, brutality, and terror to oppress everyone and make them act according to your orders. This may not be the Imperius Curse, but it is more unforgivable than the Imperius Curse."

He turned to look at Dumbledore, and the principal's blue eyes smiled at Rogge, gesturing for him to continue.

Rogge took a deep breath and his voice became louder: "Lucius and the others' excuses are inherently lame. Anyone who is not a troll can tell that they are lying."

"But are they really lying?"

"Even if you are covered with pure-blood lies, how many wizards will truly follow you when they see your true face? Bella, Barty Jr., Buck... who else? Regulus of the Black family?"

The name of this Death Eater was like a loud slap in the face, slapping Voldemort's left cheek.

Lucius also came out at this time, his voice trembling but full of determination: "Vold... Voldemort, we were once blinded by your lies and tempted by the power and status you promised.

But now, we see the truth. You are not protecting pure blood, you are just using us to satisfy your own ambitions."

"We will not return to that dark path, we want to be good people."

Other pure-blood wizards also expressed their opinions, although there was still fear in their voices, but they were firm.

"Good people!" Voldemort screamed, "Are you good people?"

"They are not, are you?" Roger said sarcastically, "Look at the followers you recruited, a group of ugly, dirty and stupid monsters. Dementors, giants, vampires, werewolves... are all dregs of the magic society."

"Even, you never dare to face Dumbledore directly. Even now, like a coward, you come to see him through this doll." Roger made full use of the venomous tongue ability learned from Snape and slapped his right face hard, "Reach out and feel if there are any eggs under your crotch. If you have the guts, tell us where you are."

After that, he gently patted the phoenix and prepared for space movement.

In an instant, the wizards of the Wizengamot suddenly realized that Voldemort had never confronted Dumbledore head-on. He might really be afraid of this old wizard, unless... everyone was waiting for his answer.

Faced with such vicious sarcasm, Voldemort himself wanted to torture Roger with the Cruciatus Curse a hundred times or ten thousand times!

His blood was boiling, and he almost blurted out his hiding place. However, he finally held back and suppressed the madness of his soul at the last moment.

"Rogge, we will meet. I will let you know what real cruelty is." Voldemort stared at him, pointed at the dome, and said madly and proudly: "Now..."

"Not good." Dumbledore's face changed, and he quickly raised his wand and tried to cast a spell to expel Voldemort from Lee Jordan's body.

However, everything happened too fast, and he was still a step late.

Lee Jordan exploded instantly like C4 detonated by a detonator. Red and white splashed out, like a basket of rotten tomatoes being run over by a car.

Rogge used heavy obstacles to set up a barrier in front of him, looking at the blood and flesh flying on the ground for a long time without saying a word.

"When Dumbledore's enemies are hopeless, when Dumbledore's pawns are deadly." He knew very well that the tragedy happened because Dumbledore wanted to get more information from Voldemort.

What is the price of such a warm conversation? A life.

Roger didn't have time to think about it, because there was a violent collapse sound from the upper floor of the Ministry of Magic. Cracks began to appear on the ceiling, and rubble and dust fell.