Chương 269: Chapter 268 "The Shattered Hearts"

Voldemort had significant dealings with the Shadow Dragon in the past. From his youth to his recent resurrection, they had played a role in his life.

Hence, he recognized them immediately. Although he couldn't identify the leading couple, his serpent-like intuition hinted at their formidable magical prowess.

Each member, at least a quasi-mage, posed a significant threat to him, and with their numerous subordinates enveloped in that ominous black aura, the danger multiplied.

With a lifetime dedicated to delving into the dark arts, Voldemort's knowledge surpassed even Dumbledore and Skyler combined.

He discerned the sinister black aura as the "Soul-Destroying Curse," an ancient and fearsome magic. Those marked by this curse were known as "Dark Souls," practitioners of a black magic that demanded the sacrifice of their soul and life force in exchange for heightened magical abilities.

The apex of this dark magic bestowed upon the Dark Souls could elevate even an underage wizard to challenge elite Aurors. It wasn't merely an augmentation of magical potency; it also endowed them with additional abilities like swifter spellcasting and heightened resilience against magical attacks.

Faced with juvenile Dark Souls, Aurors could only rely on their magical arsenal and extensive field experience.

Yet, the sheer size and stature of the Dark Souls before them indicated they were far from underage. The pulsating torrents of magic within them bespoke their prowess - all one hundred present were elite Aurors!

Even Voldemort found himself momentarily stunned. Were there truly this many elite Auror-caliber wizards in the UK?

During his last campaign, the Ministry of Magic was still recovering from Grindelwald's Rebellion, boasting at most sixty Aurors, half of whom were inexperienced or novices, leaving only a fraction as elite as these.

During his leadership in that conflict, less than thirty Aurors partook in the battle. Some fell in combat, others retired due to injuries sustained in the fray, and a few from pure-blood lineage defected to Voldemort's faction, only to be incarcerated in Azkaban or exiled.

After just thirteen years of clandestine revival and strategic maneuvering, Voldemort could deduce, with a cursory estimation of the British wizarding population, that the Ministry's current Auror count likely didn't exceed forty, with elite members possibly numbering fewer than ten.

The sudden appearance of a hundred elite Auror-caliber wizards profoundly rattled his perceptions. The Dark Souls of the Shadow Dragon transmuted into billowing black vapors, alighting behind their leaders with an eerie uniformity reminiscent of ancient wizarding battle formations.

Their silent presence, standing resolute and unyielding, cast a palpable sense of foreboding across the scene.

Confronted with this ominous display, Voldemort felt a surge of disquiet gnawing at his core, his crimson gaze wavering. Finally, he turned to Skyler and uttered in a subdued tone, "Their numbers are formidable. Should we... consider an alliance?"

Unexpectedly, Skyler appeared to be suddenly afflicted by petrification, his entire being transforming into an inert stone statue, devoid of movement or response. He stood there, seemingly entranced, gazing into the distance with vacant eyes.

"Boy, are you listening?" Voldemort tried to confirm toward Skyler once again.

There was no reaction whatsoever to Voldemort's proposal; Skyler didn't even acknowledge his presence. Voldemort couldn't be certain if Skyler had registered a single word of his suggestion.

In the eyes of this youth, once brimming with shrewdness, ambition, and intellect, now lingered only intense emotions—emotions Voldemort couldn't quite discern, but unmistakably tied to the dreaded concept of "love."

Voldemort, a product of his mother's artificial infatuation induced by a love potion, harbored a deep-seated aversion to anything associated with love. He neither recognized nor believed in its power, finding the mere mention of the word repugnant.

The irony of how one side of the party despises love, yet the other is currently struck as he tries his hardest to fight the feelings in his heart... the shattered heart that saw hope once again as Meredith made her entrance.

Today marked June 24th—precisely 310 days since Meredith's disappearance.

Unbidden, memories surged forth like a rushing tide—their initial encounter aboard the Hogwarts Express, the camaraderie forged beyond the confines of Potions class, their shared exploration of the Patronus Charm, the tender embrace shared in Hogsmeade...

Vivid scenes played out in his mind, each moment etched with clarity, familiar words and voices echoing in his ears. Skyler couldn't help but feel a sense of reverie as if he had been transported back in time as if every memory were just yesterday...

The woman stood tall, her glossy black hair cascading over her shoulders, framing a mature and alluring face.

Though this should have been an entirely unfamiliar visage, Skyler discerned traces of Meredith in the contours of her features.

Meredith's radiant smile from the past seemed to cast a shadow, blending with the image of the woman before him...

Skyler parted his lips, intending to speak, but his throat was parched and his voice hoarse. He blinked, realizing his eyes were already brimming with tears.

"Cat got your tongue, dear Skyler?" Morgana teased with a cold smile.

Countless times he had imagined what he would say and do upon encountering the possessed Meredith again, but reality proved far more daunting than his conjectures. Never had he felt so emotionally fragile...

He once believed he could move on and that his emotions would fade into the background with time.

He once believed that after a year of rigorous training, after facing danger alongside his comrades, after enduring the brutal torment of captors, and after witnessing the harsh reality of death, his heart had grown callous and unyielding.

He even once deluded himself into thinking he could replace her presence with the affections of others.

Yet, at this moment, all those convictions crumbled, leaving only one raw and undeniable emotion - regret.

Merlin's wisdom, shared through the memories left to Skyler, said that while admiration and hatred may be powerful, regret is the most profound of all. It's the haunting realization of missed opportunities, of not treasuring what was once within grasp until it's too late.

Skyler was consumed by anguish. He had lost all desire to fight.

The sudden appearance of his beloved Meredith in her entire new identity is too much for him to handle.

His strength had never solely relied on powerful magic or vast knowledge. He was a strategist, his greatest weapon being his keen analytical mind, his ability to remain composed under pressure, his tactical acumen. But now, stripped of his composure and fighting spirit, his overall combat prowess faltered.

Confronted with a formidable adversary, he bit down hard on his tongue. The pain jolted him back to the present, yet it also unleashed a floodgate of tears from his already moistened eyes.