บท 211: Chapter 211: You Will Bleed Too!
His lifeless eyes remained calm, though inwardly, he let out a sigh of relief.
Things were unfolding just as Cyrus had predicted.
"I truly pity you, Severus," Voldemort said with a feigned sense of sympathy, before turning his full attention back to Cyrus.
"Shall we begin again?"
Despite his words, he didn't attack immediately. Instead, with a casual wave of his arm, he commanded the Death Eaters to launch the first strike.
With both sides evenly matched in numbers, the battle quickly devolved into a chaotic melee.
Harry had reclaimed his wand, brought to him by a Thestral that had tracked the scent of blood to where Harry had been taken.
"Expelliarmus!"
He ducked under a spell and immediately countered.
In the midst of countless silent, nonverbal spells being cast, Harry's vocalized incantations made his intentions painfully obvious. His spells rarely hit their targets, but they weren't entirely useless.
At the very least, each time he shouted, the Death Eaters had to pay attention to his attacks.
"I'll be the one to kill Harry Potter!" A Death Eater stepped forward, his wand glowing green as he prepared to strike. But before he could cast the spell, he was hit by a curse from behind, causing him to collapse and roll on the ground.
"Do not kill Harry Potter!" Voldemort commanded angrily. "I will kill him with my own hands!"
He wanted to keep Harry alive but needed a proper pretext for it.
This made the Death Eaters even more cautious, fearing that they might accidentally kill Harry.
The scene was utter chaos.
Spells flickered through the darkness like shooting stars, lighting up the battlefield. Bellatrix grabbed the back of Harry's collar, pulling him back just as he attempted to rush at Voldemort.
She yanked him backward and tossed him aside.
Harry tumbled across the ground several times. His plan had been to use the same tactic he had employed to defeat Quirrell, hoping that touching Voldemort would reduce him to ashes.
However, the current Voldemort had already severed the ancient bloodline connection created by Lily's magic.
"Don't go getting yourself killed, boy!" Bellatrix snarled in annoyance, ruthlessly casting a killing curse that struck a Death Eater in the chest.
Having killed someone, she immediately let out a wild, excited scream.
Though she had now allied with Cyrus, her true nature hadn't changed. She was still violent and merciless, showing no compassion toward her enemies.
"Bellatrix!" Rodolphus suddenly appeared out of nowhere, with his brother Rabastan flanking her from both sides. Rodolphus looked like a ferocious wolf, while Rabastan resembled a coiled snake—both were fierce and powerful Death Eaters.
"You will pay for your betrayal, Bellatrix!" Rabastan hissed menacingly.
He strode forward, firing off a Blasting Curse.
Bellatrix didn't dodge. An invisible shield of armor formed in front of her, blocking the attack. She then swung a fiery whip, lashing it out fiercely!
The flames missed Rabastan but struck another Death Eater in the back, tearing into his flesh.
"Confringo!" Rodolphus pointed his wand, causing the ground to rise and form several rock golems armed with sharp spears, charging at Bellatrix.
He didn't stop there and launched another attack.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," he shouted, though his tone was awkward, "the Lestranges have no need for traitors!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Reducto!"
Boom!
Another scarlet spell flew in, cutting off the Killing Curse. A dark shadow rushed into the midst of their battle. Sirius, moving like a graceful conductor, positioned himself behind Bellatrix. His blasting spell not only stopped the Killing Curse but also shattered the rock golems.
"The ancient and noble House of Black doesn't stoop to the level of you rat-snake scum!" Sirius sneered.
In the past, Sirius had despised the Black family, believing that everyone in it was a complete jerk.
But now, after learning of Regulus' heroic deeds and seeing Bellatrix leave Voldemort to stand behind Cyrus, his perspective shifted.
Suddenly, the Black family didn't seem so irredeemable.
Even in darkness, stars could shine.
He and his sister stood back-to-back. Who would have thought, years ago, that they would ever fight side by side?
Sirius wished he could go back and show his mother—whose portrait hung on the wall—what her beloved daughter had become now, just to spite her.
"The Black bloodline is only good for breeding traitors."
Voldemort sneered from not far away, clearly thinking of Regulus' betrayal.
The remark nearly caused Lucius, who was fighting Snape, to drop his wand in fear.
Narcissa, after all, was also a Black by blood, and Lucius worried that his own betrayal had been uncovered.
Fortunately, Voldemort was merely venting his frustration. He likely hadn't even remembered Narcissa's maiden name, as she had always remained somewhat removed from the Death Eaters.
Lucius and Snape were both fighting half-heartedly, unaware that the other was also playing double-agent, yet they both seemed to be trying to avoid real confrontation.
Voldemort seemed weary, standing amid the chaos alongside Cyrus.
Spells flew dangerously close to them, but none could reach them. It was as if the curses had eyes, veering away the moment they got near.
Voldemort launched his attack.
With a flick of his wrist, a spell shot out like a massive beam of light, tearing through the air with such force that it caused the air to tremble, whipping up fierce winds. Voldemort's robes flapped wildly in the wind, adding to the intensity of the scene.
Cyrus raised his wand to counter the attack. In that instant, all other battles paused. As their spells collided, the impact generated a tremendous, visible shockwave, distorting the air around them.
Boom!!!
Everyone present, except for Voldemort and Cyrus themselves, was violently thrown back by the force of the blast.
Harry, being the smallest, was flung high into the air like a plastic bag caught in a storm. Fortunately, the Thestrals still circling overhead managed to catch him.
The explosion's impact snapped nearby trees in half, scattering debris everywhere.
The place where the two spells clashed became like the eye of a hurricane, with fierce winds slicing through the battlefield like sharp blades.
Voldemort looked relaxed and at ease. He continued to unleash his magical power, raising his wand high as he strode forward, forcing Cyrus to retreat.
Cyrus's arm trembled, his teeth clenched tightly, his features contorted in concentration. Yet, even in this moment of intense pressure, he still appeared strikingly handsome.
The light in his eyes grew more intense, and bright electric sparks flickered between his golden strands of hair.
"Ah!"
With a loud shout, he gave a sharp flick of his wrist, breaking the delicate balance of the spell collision. His right hand rose high, and the magical link between him and Voldemort caused the Dark Lord's own wrist to be pulled upward as if by an unseen force.
Crash!
The two spells suddenly bent upward, snapping apart toward the sky, scattering like flying sparks.
Pop!
Like fireworks, the magical energy exploded in the night sky.
Voldemort did not relent, despite the spells being knocked away. He swiftly twisted his wrist, slashing his wand downward through the air.
Next, an invisible blade shot toward Cyrus!
Whoosh!
The space tore apart, and the blade was about to slice Cyrus's body in two!
In that fleeting moment, Cyrus didn't have time to dodge. Apparition has a certain delay, and even during the instant of teleportation, one could be hit—just like how Dobby died from Bellatrix's dagger in the original story.
Even the Protogo Biabolica might not block Voldemort's attack. In that split second, Cyrus's mind stretched out, instinctively ruling out two options without much thought.
The invisible blade was already inches away, cutting through the air with such sharpness that it stung Cyrus's face.
The others couldn't see this perilous moment, but Harry, riding a Thestral in the sky, could see it clearly. His mouth opened in an attempt to scream, but the fierce wind instantly rushed into his throat, silencing him!
Fortunately, the gruesome sight of Cyrus being sliced in half never came. The short distance of a few meters between them seemed to stretch infinitely. No—it wasn't an illusion.
The space between Cyrus and Voldemort had truly been stretched apart in an instant.
Like a piece of bubblegum, the distance was pulled far away.
Now, the two were separated by a hundred meters, almost the length of a football field. Even with a distant gaze, it was hard to make out each other's features.
Between them lay a massive chasm, carved by the blade.
"An Undetectable Extension Charm—an impressive idea," Voldemort said calmly.
He flicked his wand lightly, casting a counter-curse that pulled back the extended space, even to the point of being kneaded into a lump.
In the previous second, the two seemed to be worlds apart, but now they were almost within arm's reach!
So close that they could feel each other's breath!
"Quite unexpected, I thought you must be very stinky," Cyrus said sarcastically, though it was the truth. After all, Voldemort looked as if he had been living in a garbage heap for years, his gray snake-like face seemingly covered in grime.
But in reality, that was just his diseased skin.
It was the result of magical experiments.
"Being stubborn won't save you," Voldemort mocked. "You've already realized the enormous gap between us. Even with the enhancement of ancient magic, you're no match for me!"
Voldemort didn't have any strange odors, but he always exuded a terrifying bloody scent.
His confidence was not unfounded.
Even though Cyrus had used the amplification of ancient magic to reduce the power gap caused by his age, the magical modifications Voldemort had made to himself were not something to be taken lightly.
"I admit, in terms of magical power, you are stronger," Cyrus said softly.
"Then kneel and repent for your ignorance and betrayal!"
Cyrus did not kneel. Instead, he smirked, raising an eyebrow.
His golden eyes, glowing like the sun, locked onto Voldemort's gray, deathly eyes.
For some reason, a bad premonition arose in Voldemort's heart, and soon enough, he understood why he had that feeling.
"Who taught you to stand so close to me?" Cyrus asked mockingly.
"What?" Voldemort froze for a moment, but the next instant, he felt an immense force bind the hand holding his wand!
He panicked.
Then, he heard a soft voice.
"Expelliarmus."
A Disarming Charm?
Voldemort glanced at Cyrus's right hand, which was holding a wand. That hand hadn't made any movement, but before he could figure it out, a sharp crack echoed in the air.
Crack!
Voldemort's wrist twisted as if it had been wrung like a rope!
In that moment, time seemed to freeze.
Voldemort could never have imagined that his wrist would one day be broken with sheer brute force!
The bones were shattered, and his gray flesh mixed with rotten blood.
From the sky, Harry saw it all clearly.
Voldemort's hand now hung limply, almost like Harry's own arm had a year ago when Lockhart had tried to heal him — a pathetic, dangling thing.
Voldemort's wand fell to the ground.
It was indeed a Disarming Charm, but done physically.
"I truly admire your courage, daring to stand so close to me!" Cyrus chuckled softly, his words dripping with mockery.
Ever since mastering his transformation into a magical creature, his physical strength had reached an unbelievable level.
He was practically a human-shaped Thunderbird!
"Master..."
The intense magical aura had ceased, and everyone could see Voldemort's pitiful state.
The faces of his once-loyal Death Eaters were now filled with despair—except for Barty Crouch Jr., whose expression remained one of pure madness.
"You think you're so exceptional, naming your followers 'Death Eaters,' demanding they not retreat even in the face of death. You've spent your entire life chasing immortality and the means to conquer death. You believe you're above the mundane world, but look..."
Cyrus lifted his left hand, bringing Voldemort's twisted, broken wrist with him. He bent down, leaning close to Voldemort's ear, and whispered, "Your blood is red, just like a Muggle's. There's no difference."
Voldemort's pupils contracted instantly.
His once-shocked face was now twisted in agony, as if the pain he felt wasn't from the physical injury, but from Cyrus's words!
No different from a Muggle?
The statement hit him like a hedgehog being forcibly stuffed into his ear. A fiery rage swelled within Voldemort's chest, one that yearned to turn Cyrus to ash.
"What? Gonna Cry?"
_________
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