Harry Potter: From Muggle Cousin to Conceptual Archmage

On the damaged passageway of the underground vaults, countless broken stones gave off a golden glow.

Voldemort, who was about to commit murder, suddenly realized that his, or rather Quirrell's body, was becoming heavy and stiff. His five senses were declining, and the movement of his joints was gradually becoming clumsy.

In his surprise, his pair of scarlet eyeballs saw his reflection in Harry's clear eyes.

The ugly green skin on his face was turning into brilliant golden skin!

"Harry, hit him! Grab the wand!"

Dudley seized the opportunity and shouted loudly. At the same time, he raised the Diggory wand that he had been holding tightly in his hand and pointed it at Voldemort. "Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"

This wasn't about repeating something important three times. Instead, Dudley was repeatedly mobilizing his magic power, attempting to successfully cast the correct Disarming Charm.

Meanwhile, Harry, who had been a bit at a loss, felt much more at ease upon hearing the familiar instructions from his cousin and immediately did as he was told.

He muttered to himself, "Strength... strength... increase! Increase!"

He used both hands!

One hand formed a fist and forcefully hit the part of Voldemort's face that hadn't turned to gold yet, which was the remaining back of Quirrell's head.

The other hand formed a claw and quickly grabbed at the hand in which Voldemort (Quirrell) was holding the wand in a reverse grip, trying to snatch the wand away.

Naturally, Voldemort wasn't going to just sit there and wait for death. Extreme hatred and killing intent burst out from his scarlet eyes, and he desperately chanted the spell, "Avada..."

"Expelliarmus!"

Dudley's Disarming Charm was successfully cast at a crucial moment and hit Voldemort.

The alder wand, which was almost snatched away by Harry, just started to emit a bit of green light from its tip when it flew out of his hand and shot into a stalactite in the distance like an arrow.

Normally, a Disarming Charm would make the enemy's wand fly into one's own hand. Obviously, Dudley's Disarming Charm this time wasn't perfect; it was just barely passable.

However, this was enough!

Voldemort had lost the ability to run wild. After all, he wasn't strong enough to control Quirrell's body to cast spells without a wand in his weakened state.

What was even more troublesome was that Harry, the Savior with the complete maternal love protection, had already come into contact with the enemy who was filled with murderous intent towards him.

"Ah——"

Quirrell let out an extremely painful scream. His body began to disintegrate from the back of his head and his right wrist, gradually spreading throughout his whole body. Wherever the backlash power passed, the flesh disintegrated into flying ash, including the parts that had been turned to gold by Dudley's magic power eruption.

"Harry Potter! I will definitely come back!"

Voldemort released his hold on Quirrell's body. Given the situation, there was nothing he could do. His own escape and resurrection were more important.

"Boom——"

Quirrell's head completely exploded, and the invisible repulsive force sent Harry and Dudley, who had rushed over enduring the pain, flying.

The black hood shattered, and a dark purple turban with a garlic smell was sent flying high into the air. Immediately afterwards, Voldemort's main soul in the form of black smoke emerged.

This guy spun rapidly downward, trying to use his mimicking black smoke tentacles to grab the fake The Philosopher's Stone wrapped in paper that had fallen to the ground and then make an escape.

At this moment, Dudley still felt pain all over his body and was not in a good state, but he still wanted to hold Voldemort back. This hideous jerk had completely infuriated him today!

He fell to the ground and struggled with great effort to raise his wand. "Fiendfyre..."

"Finite Incantatem!"

An old but even louder incantation interrupted the Fiendfyre spell that Dudley was trying to cast with great concentration by force.

An extremely dazzling bright yellow light burst through the raging Fiendfyre serpents on the outside. It came surging across from afar with an irresistible momentum and accurately hit the black smoke tentacle stretched out by Voldemort's main soul.

"Sssss! Damn Dumbledore!"

Along with a malicious curse that was almost inaudible, Voldemort's main soul gave up the idea of getting the The Philosopher's Stone again. It quickly shot upwards and rammed headlong into the dark purple turban that was slowly descending in the air.

At the moment of contact, the two suddenly turned into a twisted spiral and disappeared.

Obviously, Voldemort and Quirrell had prepared an escape route long ago. They turned the turban into a Portkey, and it was an enhanced Portkey at that.

Otherwise, it would be impossible to escape by Apparating from the underground vaults of Gringotts, which were protected by various defensive magics.

"Damn it!"

Dudley cursed viciously without even glancing at the master of time control who was floating closer while cleaning up the mess of the Fiendfyre spell in the distance.

He got up with great difficulty and staggered over to Harry's side. He helped his cousin up. After making sure he was okay, he rushed to Hagrid, who was lying unconscious in a pool of blood.

"Episkey! Rennervate!"

Without hesitation, Dudley directly took Diggory's wand and started treating Hagrid.

After casting the spells twice, Dudley quickly found the knack of casting the healing spell. Under the white light, the wounds on Hagrid's body gradually healed.

"Harry, help Hagrid up!"

"Okay, cousin!"

As always, Harry responded. After casting the Strength Enhancement magic on himself again, he managed to lift the heavy Hagrid up with relative ease.

Seeing Hagrid waking up slowly without any bad side effects, Dudley then cast the healing spell on himself and Harry twice more.

"Harry, Hagrid! Are you guys okay?"

An old white-haired man with a crooked nose and a long white beard approached and asked a gentle and compassionate question.

Hagrid's consciousness wasn't very clear yet. Vaguely seeing that it was Dumbledore, he struggled to nod.

As for Harry, who was supporting Hagrid, he felt a bit at a loss in the face of such an old man, so he just stared and didn't say a word.

"Get out of the way! Don't make me hit you!"

Suddenly, Dudley snapped at this gentle old man in his over a hundred years old without even turning his head, leaving the greatest wizard of the 20th century completely at a loss.

Dumbledore's expression froze. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him like this, or perhaps no one had ever dared to speak to him like this.

Whether it was Grindelwald or Voldemort, whether they were the Saints or the Death Eaters, they all showed him at least a basic level of respect and awe.

With his rich life experience of over a hundred years, it was also hard for him to imagine that an eleven-year-old wizard would... would speak such bold words.