Chapter 1509: Counterfeit
Chapter 1509: Counterfeit
“Albert Anderson!” Voldemort stared coldly at the intruder who had seized the opportunity to show up, a surge of unnamed anger rising within him.
“I never expected that you would protect others as well. It seems that Snape is quite important to you.” Albert's daring intrusion was naturally to stop Voldemort from killing Snape and discovering the “truth” about the Deathstick in his possession.
He needed Voldemort to firmly believe that he possessed the genuine Deathstick.
At least for now, he couldn't let Voldemort discover that the Deathstick in his hands was a fake; otherwise, not only would Snape's death be in vain, but his previous schemes might also turn into a laughingstock.
Albert couldn't afford to make a mistake at such a critical juncture.
And so, he made his move.
“Do you think you're that meddlesome old coot, Dumbledore, or do you believe you can kill me?” Voldemort glared at Albert, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he made no attempt to hide his murderous intent.
Without Snape holding him back, Voldemort was confident in teaching the despicable Mudblood before him a memorable lesson, especially since he trusted that Snape would soon return with the Death Eaters.
“Who knows?” Albert paid no heed to Voldemort's murderous aura as he nonchalantly replied, “You never know unless you try; you might just succeed.” As soon as he finished speaking, Albert put his words into action by raising his wand. The surrounding ruins of the manor seemed to roll like tidal waves as they crashed down upon Voldemort with overwhelming force.
A thunderous boom reverberated, sending dust and debris flying in all directions, obscuring both combatants' vision.
If it had been an ordinary Dark wizard, they would likely have been reduced to a pulp by such an attack. However, Albert's adversary was Voldemort. This seemingly fierce assault appeared utterly ridiculous in the Dark Lord's eyes, especially now that he didn't have to divide his attention to protect Snape. Not only did Voldemort emerge from the attack unscathed, but he also took advantage of the swirling smoke and dust as cover to prepare a vicious counterattack against Albert.
Following the principle of 'where there's smoke, there's no injury', Albert hadn't expected his previous attack to vanquish Voldemort either.
True to his expectations, Voldemort's retaliation was startlingly swift.
A ferocious fiery serpent tore through the rolling smoke and lunged at Albert's position, as if intending to bite him and the ground beneath his feet into pieces.
However, just as the fire serpent was about to succeed, the billowing smoke and dust transformed into impenetrable chains, temporarily binding the serpent in place.
Although the Devil's Fire soon spread and burned away the dust-turned restraints, Albert had already seized control of the black fire serpent in that fleeting moment.
But that fire serpent was merely a decoy, and the true killing move was the deadly bolt of lightning that followed.
It carried a terrifying force that couldn't be blocked by the surrounding ruins.
Just as things seemed hopeless, a silver shield materialized out of thin air, blocking the spell. The low rumble of a gong accompanied the spreading lightning as it forked and spread through the ruins, causing minor explosions around Albert.
Fortunately, the thick smoke and dust obscured both combatants' vision, or else Voldemort would have likely puked blood upon seeing his silver shield take on Albert's shape.
However, he probably didn't have the leisure to dwell on that, as the fire serpent he had used as bait was now under Albert's control, encircling Voldemort from all sides and trapping him within a blazing inferno.
If not for Voldemort's own vigilance, he might have been reduced to a fiery pillar by the Devil's Fire when he had tried to ambush Albert.
In essence, both sides were merely testing each other's capabilities.
When the Devil's Fire drew near Voldemort, the Dark Lord didn't resort to Disapparition. Instead, he forcefully flicked his left sleeve, causing it to elongate like a whip and lash out at the surrounding flames, dispersing a significant portion of the feared Devil's Fire.
Had other Dark wizards witnessed this scene, they would undoubtedly have questioned their life choices.
After all, this was the very same Devil's Fire that struck fear into countless Dark wizards, yet these two combatants treated it like a plaything, completely disregarding its fearsome reputation.
As Voldemort channeled his body's magic, a sudden urge to scratch his scalp and turn tail overwhelmed him.
A fiery orb the size of a Snitch was hurled in his direction, and as soon as it drew near, it erupted with dazzling light, completely obscuring Voldemort's twisted visage.
Boom! The darkness seemed to be dispelled by the radiance.
However, Albert, the orchestrator of this spectacle, had no intention of admiring his handiwork. Even before he had unleashed his “ultimate move”, he had already Disapparated from his original position.
Following the deafening explosion, the manor's ruins vanished without a trace, leaving only a massive scar on the ground.
If an ordinary person had witnessed this scene, they would likely have assumed that a missile had struck the area.
“Damn it, what was that?” Voldemort, gasping for breath, couldn't fathom what had just transpired.
If he hadn't instinctively fled at the last moment, he might have been completely obliterated.
Before Voldemort could catch his breath, another spell that made his scalp tingle shot toward him.
Impossible to block!
No way to dodge! This was Voldemort's own assessment.
Just as the golden light was about to pierce through Voldemort's chest, he used a spell to forcibly halt its progress.
Unable to deflect the spell, Voldemort could only grapple with it directly, and this struggle bought him a fleeting moment to act.
The golden spell paused momentarily before piercing through all obstacles in its path. However, Voldemort was not killed by the spell. In that critical juncture, he managed to Disapparate just in time.
But it seemed he hadn't completely escaped unscathed, for as soon as he emerged from his Disapparition, he was struck by another spell, and Albert's palm sent him flying toward the ground.
Quickly shaking off the effects of the binding spell, Voldemort released countless spreading lightning bolts from the tip of his wand, forcing Albert to retreat temporarily.
To be honest, Voldemort was stunned.
He couldn't comprehend why he was being suppressed so thoroughly.
Just moments ago, they had seemed evenly matched, but now the gap between them seemed vast.
“These pesky nuisances! It seems killing a powerful and experienced wizard is no easy task.” Although Albert was pressing his advantage with the aid of the ancient wand, his situation was similar to Dumbledore's; killing Voldemort was proving to be extremely challenging.
Moreover, a slight misstep during the battle could easily result in his demise at the hands of a Dark Curse.
Such was the cruelty of wizarding warfare; both combatants were constantly dancing with death.
“Time is running a bit short,” Albert muttered as he eyed Voldemort's figure.
Once again, the two combatants vanished from their original positions, and a green jet of light clashed with a golden one in midair, marking the commencement of the most common type of wizarding duel: the spell-dueling contest.
Unfortunately, there were only the two of them present.
No one would take advantage of this opportunity to deliver a fatal blow to one of them.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
