Hogwarts: I am Voldemort.

Chapter 224 The Secret of Longevity
"Look, I said he couldn't die."

Facing Voldemort's joking words, Dumbledore didn't give him a good face.

Voldemort shrugged, not caring about Dumbledore's indifference, just waiting quietly.

Not long after, the silver phoenix returned, rushed to Dumbledore, and merged into his body.

"Master Flamel agreed, can you treat him now?" Dumbledore asked.

"Let's wait until we're done talking, Albus, there's no rush." ​​Voldemort said, glancing at Zabini, "Since this boy dares to be a brave informer, he should have the courage to face this result, This is the test."

Dumbledore glanced at Voldemort angrily, suppressed the anger in his heart and said, "Meet you in the lobby on the first floor, Tom, let's go there."

"Okay, I've been looking forward to it for a long time." Voldemort said excitedly, and then walked quickly to the first floor.

Dumbledore is still performing continuous magical medical treatment on Zabini. Although the effect is mediocre, it is better than nothing.

With the child in one arm and his wand in the other, he followed Voldemort.

"What do you want to talk to him about? Or longevity?" Dumbledore asked behind.

"Otherwise?" Voldemort said without turning his head.

"Your body shouldn't last long." Dumbledore asked again.

Voldemort paused, then looked back at Dumbledore: "Test me?"

Dumbledore shrugged and said nothing.

Voldemort curled his lips and continued to move forward.

"How many Horcruxes do you have?" Dumbledore asked.

"Ninety-nine." Voldemort replied without hesitation.

Dumbledore rolled his eyes and gave up the idea of ​​communicating.

As a student, I just opened my mouth to lie.

"Master Flamel."

As soon as he walked up to the hall on the first floor, Voldemort saw a pale, silver-haired old man with a smile on his face.

Of course he knew that this was Nick Mellor, so he called enthusiastically and took the initiative to greet him.

Hugging, kissing, Voldemort's movements were very gentle - he was afraid of breaking the 600-year-old guy.

"What should I call you?" Master Flamel asked with a smile, letting go of Voldemort's enthusiasm.

"Voldemort, I like to be called that, Master Flamel."

After Voldemort finished speaking, he waved his wand lightly, and the two stone sculptures turned into two chairs, and stopped behind him and Master Flamel.

The movement of his wand waving scared McGonagall and Flitwick on the side as if they were shocked by electricity, but Dumbledore was still calm and did not overreact.

"Sit down and say, Master Flamel, I have many questions for you to ask."

While talking, Voldemort sat down on the chair first.

Nicole Flamel sat down with a smile, looked at Zabini naturally, and said, "Can you save that child from suffering first?"

"of course."

Voldemort said without hesitation, then waved his wand, and the wound on Zabini's neck disappeared.

Dumbledore checked, and hurried him back to the Slytherin lounge.

"What do you want to ask?" Master Flamel looked at Voldemort. "About longevity?"

"Yes, Master, I expect the same thing to happen to me." Voldemort said excitedly, waving his hands.

Aside, Dumbledore also waved his wand, and several chairs appeared behind him, Mag and others.

Voldemort glanced at him, again showing no sign of stress.

"I seldom meddle in my own business, Voldemort, this is the secret of longevity." Master Flamel said very humorously.

He didn't seem to be afraid of Voldemort at all, which is not surprising, he was ready to face death.

"You are very humorous, master, but this time you are not meddling?" Voldemort asked with a smile.

"Do a friend a little favor, Voldemort, I don't think this will make you raise your wand at me." Master Flamel waved his hand nonchalantly.

It has to be said that he has a free and easy temperament that Dumbledore does not possess. Even Voldemort can't help but have the idea of ​​making friends with him.

"Of course I won't raise my wand to you, Master. I want to ask about the secret of the Philosopher's Stone. Can he allow me to have a real body and live as long as you?" Voldemort asked expectantly.

Master Flamel didn't rush to answer, he first reached out and touched Voldemort's shoulder, his eyes were full of curiosity and said: "This is the first time I have seen a body made of magic power, how long can it last?"

"A few years, or less," Voldemort replied.

"You need soul and magic power?" Master Flamel continued to ask.

Voldemort looked into his eyes and saw no disgust in them.

It feels like this master doesn't mind killing.

"There is also a special ceremony, which needs to be done in front of the statue of the ancestor Slytherin. I think he also tried this method to be reborn, but obviously it didn't last long." Voldemort explained patiently.

"The wonder of magic, even after living for more than 600 years, still fascinates me." Master Flamel sighed.

Voldemort smiled, nodded in agreement, and then looked at Master Flamel with probing eyes, hoping that he could answer his question.

"I don't think so." Master Flamel said seriously, "The potion made by the Philosopher's Stone can only extend the lifespan, and it requires a considerable price."

"Like?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"The decay of magic, Voldemort, is an inevitable consequence, and that is why I have turned entirely to alchemy."

Master Flamel said, took out his wand, and used a lighting technique.

The point of light was thrown from the wand, and soon faded away.

Voldemort frowned slightly. If this was true, then he really had no expectations for the Sorcerer's Stone.

What is the meaning of longevity if you lose your magic power?
"You are sealing your mind, Master Flamel," said Voldemort. "I need to make sure of the truth of your words. If it is convenient, I think..."

"I didn't seal him up." The seriousness on Master Flamel's face disappeared, and he smiled again, "This is also one of the disadvantages of using magic for a long time. It's getting tough."

Surprised, Voldemort approached Master Flamel, using all his telepathy.

Sure enough, a trace of helplessness came, very weak, like a baby's thoughts.

"No wonder you speak so slowly. I thought you did it on purpose." Voldemort said, retracting his leaning body.

"There is no longevity without a price, but I think you can ask Barry Winkle." Master Flamel said with a smile.

Barry Winkle, whom Voldemort had an impression of - in fact, of everyone who lived a long time.

The old man also threw a huge and stylish party for his 755th birthday last year.

Typical people are old-hearted, and Voldemort felt that he really needed to meet him.

(End of this chapter)