I became Voldemort

Think about those eyes... Lily's eyes!

Snape stumbled back to his office in a daze, the words still echoing in his mind.

More than nostalgia, what he felt was anger.

It was obvious that when Cyrus said those words, he was no different from Dumbledore. It was practically a spell of control—once spoken, the man named Severus Snape was immediately ensnared!

But what could he do?

He could only accept it willingly.

Moreover, now the only way he could find traces of Lily was through Harry's eyes. Thinking of this, Snape felt that teaching Harry Occlumency didn't seem like such an unbearable task, except for the fact that he would have to deal with that face—a face that was at least 80% identical to James Potter's.

It was an unavoidable reminder to Snape that Lily and James had ended up together. Though they were dead, even their graves were side by side.

The pain and torment were not Snape's alone; Harry was equally distressed.

He couldn't understand why Mr. Cyrus had chosen Snape to help. Harry was sure there were plenty of wizards in the world proficient in Occlumency—especially Cyrus himself or Dumbledore. There was no spell those two couldn't master. 

"But it just had to be Snape!" he grumbled, shoving a large piece of pumpkin pasty into his mouth. Hermione and Ron, sitting beside him, couldn't help but feel sympathy for him as they listened.

If Hagrid was as good to Harry as anyone could be, then Snape was as bad to him as one could get. 

Thanks to Harry alone, Gryffindor had lost more points over the years than it had gained collectively.

"Did he explain why?"

Ron asked, his shoulders bouncing as he spoke through a mouth stuffed full of food. It took Harry a moment to decipher what he was saying.

Why? 

Probably because he didn't want Harry's remaining days to be too comfortable! 

Ugh.. Harry silently grumbled to himself.

He still believed that he would ultimately have to die in order to defeat Voldemort. The thought made him sad again. The happier his days at Hogwarts were, the more terrified he became of death. 

Sometimes, he would think it might be better to die now, while he still had the courage to face it. But what about in two years? He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't grow too attached to the joys of this world, that he wouldn't feel reluctant to leave Ron and Hermione. And now, he was also good friends with Ginny. 

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione noticed Harry's low spirits.

"Nothing..." Harry pressed his lips tightly together, closing his eyes to blink away the tears that had gathered at the corners.

He couldn't talk to anyone about these things because he knew that if Ron, Hermione, or Ginny found out, they would definitely confront Cyrus. 

They would beg Cyrus to think of another way, and Harry wished there were another way too. But if there truly were one, Dumbledore might have defeated Voldemort more than ten years ago.

"Alright, so when are you supposed to meet Snape?" 

"Twice a week—Wednesday evenings and weekends," Harry replied.

Perhaps due to Cyrus's orders, Snape had deliberately intensified Harry's lessons, determined to ensure that he mastered Occlumency before the third task.

"But I don't get it—what's the rush? You don't even have to compete in the tournament anymore," Ron asked.

"Who knows? Maybe he wants me to kill Voldemort during the third task," Harry joked casually, but Ron shivered at his words.

"Don't say that name, alright? He's terrifying!" Ron nearly dropped the food he was holding in fright.

In the past, Harry might have insisted that they not fear the name itself, but after the battle at the Department of Mysteries, he no longer forced the issue.

Everyone had been deeply shaken back then.

Although Ron hadn't been present, just hearing Harry and the others recount what happened had scared him half to death.

If Cyrus and Dumbledore hadn't arrived in time, Ron might have lost both his sister and his two best friends that day.

Hermione and Ginny had turned pale as well.

When they had faced Voldemort, it was as if their entire bodies had frozen stiff, too terrified to move. Yet at the same time, every inch of their skin felt as though it was being seared by flames—a paralyzing and excruciating pain.

The worst moment had been watching Voldemort drive his wand directly into Harry's head. The fear at that instant was almost unbearable.

"Uh, I know it's a bit late to ask, but... Harry, is your scar okay?" Hermione inquired.

She was aware that Harry's scar often hurt. They hadn't understood why before, but after Voldemort himself explained it, they finally learned the truth.

The scar was connected to Voldemort's soul.

"It's fine for now," Harry said, instinctively touching his lightning-shaped scar.

He thought back to when he first entered the wizarding world.

So many wizards and witches had gazed at his scar in awe, marveling at it. Little did they know, the very thing they feared most—Voldemort's soul—was lodged within that scar.

While Harry was lost in his melancholy, Ron, who was usually a bit slow on the uptake, suddenly raised his head as if he'd just thought of something.

"Oh, right, Harry! Now that you're out of the tournament, do you still have to take the end-of-term exams?"

As expected, Ron voiced the question that mattered most to him.

Hermione, however, rolled her eyes without hesitation.

"Of course, he does! Just because he's no longer a champion doesn't mean he gets to avoid exams."

"Give me a break," Ron retorted dismissively. "There's nothing in the rules saying a champion who failed isn't still a champion. Harry's been risking his life in this tournament—doesn't that at least earn him a pass on one round of exams?"

He simply couldn't fathom why Hermione placed so much importance on exams.

"Honestly, I think Harry's learned enough this term, even without the exams," Ginny chimed in.

Over the past year, Harry had indeed gained a lot, particularly under Dumbledore's guidance. He had mastered several advanced spells, such as the Disillusionment Charm. That was one of the reasons Harry felt he no longer needed the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry listened to their back-and-forth, suddenly feeling as though he were dreaming.

His mind was filled with thoughts of his impending death, yet Ron and the others were discussing exams.

How absurd!

The stark contrast between the two was as jarring as the difference between the Dursleys' cupboard and the grandeur of Hogwarts Castle.

So much so that Harry suddenly began to doubt whether Hogwarts, magic, or even Voldemort were real at all.

What if, when he woke up tomorrow, he'd find himself back in that tiny cupboard under the stairs, his legs cramped and his spirit crushed, enduring yet another miserable summer?

What if all of this—a magical world, friends, and foes—was nothing but a strange, elaborate dream brought on by one of Dudley's punches to the head?

If that were the case, then he wouldn't have to die.

Harry clung to this thought for a moment.

But for some reason, he realized he'd rather face death than accept that Hogwarts was just a figment of his imagination.

At that moment, he remembered their second year, when Cyrus had guided their minds into the diary, showing them glimpses of Tom Riddle's past.

_________

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