The scene of Fuxi performing the Heavenly Sound appeared in Theodore's mind.
The greatest music had no sound.
He heard no ordinary melody, no notes in the mortal sense, yet the Great Dao trembled. Earth, fire, water, and wind revolved in endless cycles.
This sound had already surpassed human ability. It had even surpassed the music of heaven itself.
Countless mysteries of the musical Dao unfolded before Theodore.
In the blink of an eye, he entered a state of sudden enlightenment, fully immersed in his comprehension of Fuxi's Heavenly Sound.
…
At the same time, Quirrell followed the old wizard back to his family estate.
Suppressing the disgust twisting in his stomach, he continued flattering the old wizard under Voldemort's guidance.
It had to be said—Voldemort's ability to grasp people's hearts was terrifyingly effective against most people.
Before long, he and Quirrell had drawn out nearly all of the old wizard's background.
As expected, the man was the patriarch of a pure-blood family.
Although his family was not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but rather a later and smaller pure-blood line, it still possessed a fairly ancient foundation.
Most importantly, the old wizard mentioned that his family still kept a secret treasure.
It was said to predate even the founding of Hogwarts.
A relic from the age of myth.
At those words, both Quirrell and Voldemort's eyes lit up.
The magical world did indeed contain many ancient objects, but anything with a history of over a thousand years was already extremely rare.
Among them, very few still retained practical value.
After all, magic attached to an object would also fade with time.
Just like most invisibility cloaks, whose concealment effects gradually weakened.
For an ancient object to preserve its power across ages, either it had to be maintained and reinforced generation after generation, or it had to have been an incredibly precious item from the very beginning, carrying magic powerful enough to resist the erosion of time.
Such objects were often priceless.
And that only referred to items from a thousand years ago—the era of the Four Founders of Hogwarts.
Objects that could be traced back to the age of myth were each an unparalleled treasure, their value impossible to estimate.
Some even carried magic that modern wizards could not begin to imagine.
For example, the magical world had once discovered a stone tablet passed down from the age of myth. It recorded thirty-three magical characters.
They were believed to be runes obtained by Odin of Norse myth at the cost of one of his eyes, containing unimaginable magical mysteries.
From that point onward, the magical world gained a discipline known as Ancient Runes.
The infamous Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, was something Voldemort himself had simplified and modified from seven ancient runes.
This alone was enough to show how precious relics from the age of myth were.
And this old wizard's family actually possessed such an ancient object.
How could Quirrell and Voldemort not be overjoyed?
Even if it did not contain precious knowledge like the runic stone tablet, its value would still be extraordinary.
If they could obtain it, it would be enough to exchange for the alchemical items and potions they needed.
Thus, Quirrell completely abandoned whatever dignity he still had left. He leaned against the old wizard like a delicate bird and said coyly,
"Darling, I had no idea your family was so impressive."
"Could you let me admire that family treasure?"
"Please, darling."
Under Quirrell's assault, the old wizard hesitated at first, but soon burst into smug laughter and gave Quirrell a rough squeeze.
"Since you want to see it, I'll let you broaden your horizons."
"Hmph. I'll show you what the foundation of an ancient family truly looks like!"
Soon, the old wizard brought Quirrell into a secret underground storeroom.
After lifting an invisibility cloak covering one corner of the room, a dark glow deeper than night itself flowed before their eyes.
Quirrell stared at the object beneath the cloak and held his breath in shock.
"This is…"
"A harp?!"
Before him stood an enormous black harp.
Golden patterns were embedded across its dark body. Even after countless years, its strings still shimmered with a mysterious luster.
It looked almost brand new.
The old wizard looked smug.
"Well? Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Look at this exquisite body. Who knows how much refined gold and mithril were used to forge it? This craftsmanship is so miraculous that even goblins would gasp in admiration. It isn't a skill that should exist in the mortal world."
"And that's not even mentioning the being who once used it…"
He lowered his voice.
"According to generations of research by my family, this harp most likely belonged to the God of the Underworld during the age of myth."
"A harp containing the power of death."
"It will bring death to anyone who hears its music."
Then, the old wizard's thin, claw-like fingers suddenly brushed across the strings.
A dull sound rang out.
Quirrell jumped in fright, cold sweat appearing on his forehead.
The old wizard burst into laughter.
"Scared you, did it?"
"Relax. Our ancestors tried countless times. No one can play music with it."
"Even the greatest musicians were the same."
"This harp has passed away with the mythic age—or perhaps it has fallen into eternal slumber."
"Otherwise, if my family brought it before Dumbledore or You-Know-Who and performed a piece, wouldn't the entire magical world belong to us?"
The old wizard then looked at Quirrell and gave a strange chuckle.
"You wanted to see my treasure. Now I've shown it to you."
"So now it's my turn to see yours. Come on, let me have another look."
Quirrell felt a wave of disgust and dodged the old wizard's hand.
The old wizard's face immediately darkened.
"What do you mean by that?"
Quirrell drew his wand and looked at him with revulsion, while seeming to speak to someone else.
"We've seen the item. There's no need to keep this disgusting thing alive anymore, is there?"
The old wizard's heart chilled.
"Who are you talking to?"
"I warn you, I am a man of reputation. If a lowly creature from a strip club like you dares do anything to me, you'll spend the rest of your life in Azkaban…"
But in the next second, Quirrell's expression twisted into something hideous and savage.
"Threatening me?"
"A disgusting old wizard dares threaten me, Quirrell?"
"Enough. I have had enough. What kind of life am I even living?!"
The old wizard panicked.
"You… what are you going to do?"
"Calm down. Leave now, and I won't tell the Aurors. I'll pretend I never saw you tonight!"
Quirrell smiled darkly.
"Too late."
Then he aimed his wand at the old wizard without hesitation and uttered the Unforgivable Curse.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
One dazzling green light after another shot from the tip of Quirrell's wand, striking the old wizard's corpse again and again.
It was as if only by doing this could Quirrell vent the rage and killing intent in his heart.
Even Voldemort did not speak at this moment, afraid of provoking Quirrell further.
This fellow was probably already mentally unstable after everything he had suffered recently.
If Voldemort did not let him vent, he might genuinely snap.
And Voldemort still needed him.
Finally, after quite a while, Quirrell gasped heavily and calmed the surging murderous intent in his heart.
His gaze turned toward the harp said to have come from the age of myth, once played by the God of the Underworld.
At that moment, the harp strings seemed to be plucked by invisible hands.
Grand, solemn, cold, and deathly notes burst from the strings, gathering into a low voice.
"It is not yet time. Who has awakened me?"
Then the strings rang sharply, becoming piercing and chaotic.
"@##￥!"
"The great rulers have chosen me and commanded me to play the prelude to their return?"
"I shall sweep away the ignorant ants who dare obstruct the path of the rulers' return."
"Who is Theodore Ashbourne? I shall end his life!"
…
At that moment, Theodore slowly opened his eyes.
The scene he had witnessed while comprehending Fuxi's Heavenly Sound still lingered in his mind, like echoes refusing to fade.
"Fuxi's Heavenly Sound…"
"As expected of a supreme musical Dao divine ability created by Fuxi. Among divine abilities, its power is likely near the absolute peak."
"If wielded by Fuxi himself, it might even suppress countless innate divine abilities. Truly wondrous beyond words."
Naturally, Theodore could not fully comprehend such a divine ability in a short time.
Even after that moment of enlightenment, he was still some distance away from true entry.
"Fuxi listened to the sounds of the world and created music, thereby comprehending Fuxi's Heavenly Sound."
"To cultivate this divine ability, it would be best to listen to more melodies—especially ancient tunes. They will be greatly beneficial to comprehending Fuxi's Heavenly Sound."
Before this, obtaining such resources would have been somewhat troublesome.
But now that he had the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion, things were much easier.
With the Pavilion's current reputation, collecting ancient music would not be difficult.
Add the Insightful Heavenly Eye to the mix…
Theodore's eyes flickered.
It would not be long before he truly entered the threshold of Fuxi's Heavenly Sound.
At that moment, Theodore suddenly frowned, sensing something strange.
"Hmm?"
"Someone is talking about me behind my back again?"
"This killing intent is quite thick."
A hint of curiosity appeared on his face.
For him to sense it at his current level, the other party was probably no ordinary existence.
This feeling also seemed connected to Voldemort and Quirrell again.
What fresh nonsense were those two planning this time?
At the same time, the system interface appeared before Theodore.
[The incarnation of Duobao has gone treasure-hunting and obtained an evil artifact in a secret place of the West. It is connected to Rahu and filled with murderous energy!]
[The host currently possesses the Dao of Slaughter. You and Rahu are rivals upon the same path. A feud of Dao obstruction cannot coexist under the same sky.]
[Although the Saints cannot yet descend personally, a minor arrangement has caused this treasure of Rahu to fall into Duobao's hands and become his aid. It vows to kill you!]
Theodore raised an eyebrow.
Demon Ancestor Rahu?
Although Rahu was not a saint, he was only one step away.
In the Primordial World, he was an unimaginably ancient existence, far beyond ordinary quasi-saints.
Even dazzling figures from the Investiture tribulation such as Zhao Gongming, Kong Xuan, and Lu Ya were fundamentally different from Rahu.
And this time, the system was warning him of a treasure of Rahu?
Could it be something left behind from the age of myth?
Theodore's expression grew slightly solemn.
Compared to modern wizards, the wizards of the age of myth were truly like gods.
Whether in combat magic, alchemy, or potions, they far surpassed the modern magical world.
Compared to the Old Ones, who could only descend through projections, a revived relic from the mythic age might even possess greater immediate power.
Theodore had to treat it cautiously.
But after a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes.
For some reason, this arrangement by the Old Ones and revival of myth seemed as though it intended to bring him a major disaster.
Yet he did not feel any incoming danger.
On the contrary, the talent Heaven's Secret Divination told him—
An opportunity was coming.
Theodore shook his head.
Heaven's Secret Divination had never deceived him.
Since it said this was an opportunity, there had to be a reason.
Besides, even if it was a product of the mythic age, it was almost impossible to pose a fatal threat to Theodore, whose Blood Rebirth ability had yet to be exposed.
Thus, Theodore did not become overly nervous.
Aside from keeping a portion of his attention alert, the rest of his mind returned to comprehending Fuxi's Heavenly Sound.
Whether danger or opportunity, his own strength was the key to facing it.
The sooner he mastered Fuxi's Heavenly Sound, the sooner he would gain another terrifying method.
…
Before the Harp of the Underworld.
Hearing the melody it played, filled with killing intent toward Theodore, both Quirrell and Voldemort fell silent.
Although they could not fully understand what was happening, this relic from the age of myth had suddenly awakened and seemed intent on dealing with Theodore?
But wasn't this too risky?
From everything they had experienced so far, they had summarized one rule:
As long as you did not provoke Theodore, you usually would not suffer too badly.
But if you plotted against him, especially if you wanted his life, the consequences were often unbearable.
This Harp of the Underworld probably had not suffered Theodore's bizarre misfortune before.
Otherwise, how could it dare say something like ending Theodore's life?
Voldemort had once thought constantly about killing Theodore.
But after suffering inexplicable losses again and again, he no longer even said such things aloud!
At that moment, the Harp of the Underworld plucked its strings again. Its voice seemed somewhat surprised by Voldemort's existence.
"A wizard who has reached the peak of mortality?"
"And this soul… twisted and shattered to such an extent…"
"To reach this degree in an age when the ancient ones sleep and myth has faded—remarkable indeed."
"The great rulers gave me a hint. They said someone would help me kill Theodore Ashbourne. It seems that person is you."
After a moment, Voldemort took control of Quirrell's body, clearly wary of this relic from the age of myth and prepared to strike with full force at any moment.
"I know nothing of any rulers."
"As for Theodore, I do indeed wish him dead. But that little wizard is strange. He is not easy to deal with."
"If you want to kill Theodore, I advise you to be cautious."
Voldemort said in a deep voice,
"I only want the Philosopher's Stone so I can restore my body and regain my peak strength."
"If you can help me achieve that, I will naturally be able to kill Theodore afterward."
The Harp of the Underworld rang with displeasure.
"You think I cannot kill a mere young wizard?"
"I come from the age of myth. I have even seen the children of gods. At eleven years old, even someone with divine blood could not be very powerful, let alone someone from this era."
Voldemort shook his head.
"I told you. That little wizard is strange."
"To be safe, you should first help me obtain the Philosopher's Stone. After I recover my peak strength, we can discuss killing Theodore together."
The harp strings grew increasingly chaotic, clearly displeased by Voldemort's caution.
"I truly do not understand what could be special about an eleven-year-old wizard!"
Voldemort frowned.
Damn it. A mythic relic had appeared, but this thing refused to listen.
Instead of this, he would rather have obtained some other treasure and sold it directly in exchange for alchemical items and potions.
While they were locked in disagreement, Quirrell timidly spoke.
"Master… Lord Harp…"
"Why not compromise?"
"Lord Harp, tell us how you plan to kill Theodore Ashbourne. If we think it is feasible, we can discuss cooperation."
"If the plan is too unreliable, then perhaps you should first help Master obtain the Philosopher's Stone. Once Master returns to his peak, your rulers' mission will also have a greater chance of success, won't it?"
The Harp of the Underworld pondered for a moment.
Then its strings moved, and it played a short melody.
In an instant, Voldemort's expression tightened, and he cast protective magic all around them.
From the harp's music, he sensed an intense threat.
The Harp of the Underworld said calmly,
"Relax. Since you are the helpers chosen for me by the rulers, I will not attack you for the sake of the mission."
"But I must at least show you my power."
"Look. This manor has already been shrouded in death."
Voldemort and Quirrell took a deep breath and walked up from the basement.
What entered their eyes was absolute stillness.
The few remaining blood relatives of the old wizard in this estate had silently turned into corpses.
Not only them.
Even the insects, mice, and plants in the house now appeared dead.
Even the portraits hanging on the walls no longer moved.
The moment the Harp of the Underworld played its melody, even the portraits had been granted "death."
When they returned to the harp, Voldemort looked at it with more gravity.
As expected of an object left behind from the age of myth.
It possessed extraordinary magical power.
That melody was almost like an area-of-effect Killing Curse.
He took a deep breath and asked,
"How do you plan to kill Theodore Ashbourne?"
The Harp of the Underworld answered matter-of-factly,
"I only need to play a passage. Once Theodore Ashbourne hears it, his life will naturally come to an end."
"All you need to do is bring me close enough for the melody to reach his ears."
Voldemort's eyes lit up.
A simple plan.
But the simpler a plan was, the more effective it often became.
With the power the harp had shown, Theodore might truly be caught off guard.
Perhaps it really could work.
"The only question is how to get close enough for him to hear the melody."
"The range must be close enough."
Voldemort pondered this problem.
At that moment, dawn gradually arrived, and the newest issue of the Daily Prophet was delivered.
Across the paper was a conspicuous notice from the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion.
"Starting today, the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion is offering high prices for all kinds of ancient music from the magical world. The older, the better. Music with magical effects will receive even higher compensation…"
Voldemort froze.
"Hmm?"
Then he was overjoyed.
"Isn't this perfect?!"
The Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion was definitely Theodore's.
And this collection of music was most likely related to Theodore.
Just as Voldemort was wondering how to make Theodore hear the harp's melody, Theodore had delivered the opportunity himself.
They only needed to send the Harp of the Underworld's melody to the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion.
Then Theodore would most likely hear it.
The only question was…
Voldemort looked at the Harp of the Underworld.
"Are you truly certain your melody can kill Theodore?"
The harp rang proudly.
"My melody is called the Prelude of the Dead. It once witnessed the twilight of the gods!"
"Even ordinary gods would suffer irreversible damage or death after hearing my music. How could an eleven-year-old wizard survive?"
"Unless he possesses a melody more powerful than my Prelude of the Dead."
"But is that possible?"
"Absolutely impossible!"
"He is guaranteed to die!"
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