章節 72: Chapter 72: Night in the Forbidden Forest

"Do you think His Highness will come?"

Ken asked, turning to Ren in the middle.

"I don't know, but I hope not," Ren replied calmly. "We don't know who or what that creature in the Forbidden Forest is. And His Highness is only an 11-year-old wizard. If it's an adult wizard, His Highness might not stand a chance."

Ken nodded silently. While he believed in their master's courage, sending an 11-year-old to confront a powerful foe felt excessive.

"Maybe His Highness has a special plan?" Ben muttered listlessly. "He's a descendant of the Gaunt family, Slytherin's heir. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised, if he manages to handle that person."

The other two heads fell silent at this.

Given the tales passed down by their ancestors, this possibility wasn't far-fetched.

"Someone's coming!"

Before they could dwell further, Ken noticed movement. He turned toward the narrow path ahead.

A tall figure cloaked in black and wearing a mask had appeared, striding slowly toward them.

"His Highness? But the build…"

Ken muttered, puzzled.

"It's just a disguise. The aura hasn't changed"

Ren explained briefly, slithering toward the figure.

Moments later, they reached the masked individual.

"Your Highness."

They lifted their heads, but instead of Luke's familiar face, they saw a snake mask. Though lifeless, its hawk-like eyes glinted with sharp intensity. The cloak, unremarkable from afar, seemed up close to be crafted from the hide of some dark, magical creature, exuding a chilling, oppressive energy.

"I'm here. Do you know where that person is now?"

A deep, hoarse voice emerged. To the serpents, it was hard to reconcile this foreboding figure with the radiant, approachable young master who had recently bestowed names upon them.

"Your Highness, Your disguise is excellent, but your aura still gives you away"

Ken remarked bluntly. Beside him, Ren and Ben hissed indignantly, baring their fangs.

Couldn't you phrase that more delicately? they seemed to scold. Who knows what His Highness's temperament truly is?

Luke, however, appeared unbothered. Silently, he reined in his aura.

"I left it noticeable so you could identify me. Now, tell me where the target is."

With that, Luke's familiar presence vanished entirely, leaving only an oppressive, sinister energy. To Ken, Ren, and Ben, he was now a stranger.

"The target is in the Acromantulas' territory," Ren quickly reported, bowing his head. "He doesn't seem interested in the spiders, though, and appears unfamiliar with the forest. We're unsure what he's looking for."

"He's strong, Your Highness," Ken added. "The Acromantulas' hunting parties didn't stand a chance. But he seems injured or weakened—he's not at full strength."

Listless as ever, Ben lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with wisdom. "You could engage in a war of attrition, but beware of his Killing Curse. He's very direct."

It seemed that Luke's presence had indeed forced Voldemort to expedite his search for power.

And Quirrell's body was likely reaching its limits.

With that thought, Luke pursed his lips. If Voldemort found himself unable to sustain Quirrell and without sufficient magical replenishment, he'd have two choices.

The first would be a direct assault on the chamber at the end of the fourth-floor corridor to seize the Philosopher's Stone.

But that was unlikely. If Voldemort believed brute force alone could secure the Stone, he wouldn't have waited until he was nearly depleted to make the attempt. Quirrell's life was insignificant to Voldemort compared to his own restoration.

The second option would be to abandon Quirrell and find a new host.

If it was Luke, he'd choose an ordinary, inconspicuous host—someone who wouldn't attract attention.

But this was Voldemort. Luke found it difficult to predict the logic of a man whose thought process seemed…less conventional, especially after losing his nose. To Voldemort, the most suitable body might be his own.

If Luke stopped Voldemort's hunt tonight, he could very well become the Dark Lord's next hunting target.

Conventional wisdom would dictate that he avoid such danger. Leaving now, allowing Voldemort to proceed with his plan, and waiting for Dumbledore to execute his countermeasures would let Luke reap the rewards without lifting a finger.

But...

A bright smile tugged at Luke's lips.

Perhaps sabotaging Voldemort's plan and steering him down another path would serve his interests even better.

No wonder Dumbledore allowed Voldemort to infiltrate the school. The Dark Lord, in his weakened state, was laughably easy to manipulate—a lamb in wolf's clothing.

"I'm heading into the Forbidden Forest. Find me a magical creature to lead the way," Luke instructed Ken, Ren, and Ben.

"Understood, Your Highness"

Ken replied, bowing.

"Oh, and one more thing," Luke added, "no serpentine creatures."

The three heads exchanged glances but ultimately bowed once more.

"Understood, Your Highness. Proceed, and your guide will follow shortly."

With that, they turned and slithered deeper into the forest.

Luke stretched slightly, adjusting to his current form.

The potion he'd used to alter his physique was a rare concoction. Its drawbacks were evident—expensive and far less versatile than Polyjuice Potion.

But it had significant advantages: absolute safety, no side effects, and even some benefits for physical development.

In truth, the potion was originally designed to aid wizards dissatisfied with their physical attributes.

His black cloak, pulled from a dusty chest in the log cabin, was made from an unknown material that radiated an ominous energy. If Luke didn't actively suppress his own aura, the cloak's influence would overwhelm him, muting his magical signature.

It could even distort the nature of his magic.

Then there was the enchanted snake-mask. Even Voldemort at his peak would need effort to see through its illusions, let alone in his current weakened state.

Of course, these were mere auxiliary tools.

Luke's true reliance lay in the wand he clutched tightly.

[Slytherin's wand...]

*****

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