Harry's voice was low and hoarse, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of his throat.

"I dream of murder every night... After every murder, I suddenly master some new abilities. Some are spells, some are methods of making potions..."

Deverot listened, raised his eyebrows slightly, and a hint of interest flashed in his eyes.

He leaned back in his chair, with a tentative tone in his voice.

"Like the potion that turns people into black mist?"

Harry nodded slightly, lowered his eyes, and his voice was lower.

"Yes, it is a combination of potion and transfiguration. However... the formula here is incomplete, so it flies slowly and has great side effects."

Deverot's eyes suddenly became sharp. He stood up and stared at Harry, with a smile unconsciously raised at the corner of his mouth, with a little teasing and a strong interest.

He subconsciously licked his dry lips, as if he had found an uncarved treasure.

"This kid...".

Deveraux said this silently in his heart, his thoughts turning rapidly.

Voldemort's dark magic is something that even Dumbledore has to be wary of.

The things Harry has mastered now are obviously inherited from those memories.

Whether Harry's current state is real or fake, this knowledge is a real treasure.

Deveraux's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of the chair, his eyes fixed on Harry, as if he was measuring something.

His mind was running fast.

"If these dreams are really the remnants of Voldemort's memories, then the dark magic he has mastered is simply priceless. If Harry is really going to be sent to Azkaban, then it won't bear fruit later? Before that, I must squeeze these things dry."

Harry's voice became deeper and deeper, as if he was suppressing the cry deep in his heart.

His wrists trembled slightly, and the leather of the restraints made a slight friction sound.

He looked up at Deveraux, his eyes revealing a helpless emptiness, and then said:

"Then... I felt very painful, I didn't know who I was."

His voice was slightly choked, as if he was fighting with his soul.

"I... I felt that I was not clean. That feeling was like... I had become a monster."

Harry's expression made Deveraux stunned for a moment, the struggle and pain were almost written all over his face.

Although Deveraux was hard-hearted, he had to admit that there was no falsehood in Harry's words.

"I dare not tell Ron, dare not tell anyone."

Harry's speech speed increased, as if he was eager to talk, but with deep fear.

"I even began to have a feeling... that I would suddenly go crazy and kill everyone around me directly."

Deveraux frowned more tightly, and a complex emotion flashed in his eyes.

He did not interrupt Harry, but continued to listen.

"I feel that I have become more arrogant,"

Harry's voice almost became a whisper.

"I don't care to listen to Hermione's explanations. I think she...she's very stupid, very stupid. Everyone is stupid and unworthy of being my friend. I really feel this way..."

At this point, Harry's voice suddenly stopped.

He lowered his head and knocked his forehead against the restraints with a dull sound.

"I don't know what to do, Deveraux,"

he murmured, his voice full of despair, as if a person who was about to be swallowed by darkness was seeking salvation at the last moment.

"I really don't know!"

Deveraux listened to Harry's story quietly, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if digesting this information.

He didn't speak immediately, but let the heavy atmosphere last for a while between the two.

"Look up and look at me."

Deveraux's voice was low but with unquestionable majesty.

Harry was stunned for a moment, but still raised his head obediently and looked directly at Deveraux with his green eyes.

That look was full of fatigue, pain, and a hint of confusion about the future.

Deveraux stared at him, slowly raised the wand in his hand, waved it gently, and said calmly, as if giving an order: "Don't move."

A silent magic flowed out, and Harry's pupils shrank slightly, but he knew what Deveraux was doing, Legilimency, as he had some memories of Voldemort.

This was an extremely thorough spell, without any room for cover-up. Deveraux's magic directly invaded the depths of his memory, presenting every frame and every detail without reservation.

Harry's body stiffened slightly, but he did not resist.

He seemed to have given up struggling, and just quietly let Deveraux's magic dig out the secrets buried deep in his mind.

The scenes flashed one by one.

Deveraux's brows were getting tighter and tighter, and his expression gradually became complicated from the initial calmness.

He saw Harry's memories from childhood to adulthood, the daily life at Hogwarts, the indifference and abuse of the Dursleys, and the memories of Voldemort - dark, cruel, disgusting killing scenes, and Voldemort's exquisite control of the dark magic.

As expected, as Harry said, in addition to his own real experiences, there were also strange memories, as if they were forcibly implanted.

In those scenes, Voldemort killed many people he didn't know and carried out his plan ruthlessly.

However, the reason why Deveraux performed Legilimency so thoroughly was not just to verify whether Harry was lying.

He had a more practical purpose——

[Ding! ]

[New spell has been stored! ]

[New spell has been stored! ]

[New spell has been stored! ]

Deveraux's mouth corners slightly raised, and a trace of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.

Yes, this is exactly his real intention-to learn all the dark magic that Voldemort mastered in Harry's mind.

Deveraux felt that the magic knowledge poured into his mind like a tide. The complex spell structure, profound magic theory, and those creepy spellcasting techniques instantly became his own abilities.

He could even feel that this knowledge was rapidly filling the gaps in his magic system and making his strength go to a higher level.

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