Chapter 878: Battle, The Unhinged Voldemort
Chapter 878: Battle, The Unhinged Voldemort
How many fake Kyles had there been so far...seven, or was it eight?
Voldemort had lost count, or perhaps the anger that clouded his mind had made him indifferent to such details.
It all started two hours ago.
On a hillside, he had found Kyle, looking flustered and frightened. Without hesitation, Voldemort had cast the Avada Kedavra curse, and just like that, his target was dead. It was clean and efficient, just like the many Muggles and Aurors who had perished at his hand.
Voldemort was elated, even more so than when he had taken the Elder Wand from Dumbledore. As 'Kyle' lay on the ground, he felt a sense of nostalgia, harkening back to his childhood.
It was the first time he had taken those who had mocked him to a seaside cave, using his unique methods to terrorize and torture them.
It was much later that he learned that what he had done was magic.
But that didn't matter. The fear and despair on the faces of those two Muggles had given him an unprecedented sense of satisfaction and power, as if his whole being had been cleansed.
Years had passed, and people had come and gone. Voldemort couldn't believe that he had found this rare emotion again.
He decided to take 'Kyle' with him, planning to throw him into Hogwarts and imagining the look on Dumbledore's face.
The thought made Voldemort smile, something he rarely did.
In his elated state, he even forgave the Death Eaters who had failed him.
But his good mood didn't last. Not long after, he watched in disbelief as the body of 'Kyle', who he thought was dead, began to contort and transform into someone else within seconds.
As Slughorn's most accomplished student, Voldemort instantly understood what had happened.
Polyjuice Potion...
Kyle had given the Death Eaters a Polyjuice Potion with his hair, creating a decoy.
And he, Voldemort, had fallen for it, even taking pleasure in his supposed victory.
Voldemort's eyes turned a blood-red color, and a chilling aura emanated from him.
He had been played again.
He didn't know why he thought 'again,' but that was indeed his subconscious thought.
Thus, in a fit of rage, Voldemort went completely insane. He transformed into a black mist and sped through the mountains, leaving death in his wake. Anyone who stood in his way, be they Death Eaters, the Hungarian Horntail, or 'Kyle,' met the same fate—their lives reaped by the Killing Curse.
To ensure he wouldn't be fooled again by such tricks, Voldemort made a slight alteration to the Killing Curse, enabling it to 'kill' the Polyjuice Potion as well.
As the master of dark magic, this modification was child's play for Voldemort.
And with this decision, Voldemort's anger knew no bounds.
Every 'Kyle' he had encountered on his path had been a fake, Death Eaters who had ingested the Polyjuice Potion.
One could say that the number of Death Eaters he had personally killed was close to double digits.
If there were a leaderboard for Death Eater kills in the Hebrides, Voldemort would be at the top, followed by a string of Hungarian Horntails.
The once grand group of over fifty Death Eaters had now dwindled to less than twenty, thanks to their collective efforts.
But Voldemort didn't care. Even when he encountered a 'Kyle' who clearly behaved like a Death Eater, he showed no mercy, casting the Killing Curse without hesitation.
Voldemort couldn't be sure if this was the real Kyle pretending, and he knew Kyle's tricks all too well. If he could disguise himself as a Death Eater using Polyjuice Potion, he could just as easily be masquerading under Voldemort's own face.
So, Voldemort had only one thought in mind: if he couldn't tell the real from the fake, he would kill them all. As long as he killed every Kyle, he would eventually find the genuine one.
As for the Hungarian Horntail, Macnair, and the rest...who cared? They were irrelevant.
Voldemort extended his wand, and a bright flame erupted from its tip, transforming into a giant serpent—a fire snake.
Wherever the fire snake passed, trees and sturdy rocks alike were set ablaze.
Voldemort's patience had reached its limit, and he decided to use the Blazing Spell to force Kyle out of hiding, unconcerned if his Death Eaters would be affected.
Even if they were, Voldemort didn't care...after all, what were a few more deaths?
The fierce fire spread at an unimaginable speed. Despite the night, the central mountains of the Hebrides were illuminated as if it were daytime.
In the firelight, Voldemort spotted another Kyle and, as usual, cast the Killing Curse.
But this time, his target dodged.
It was a casual curse cast without much thought, and yet someone had evaded it.
"I've found you," Voldemort said, narrowing his eyes, which had elongated slits for pupils.
He knew he had finally found the real Kyle.
The one who had been easily killed by the Killing Curse was a Death Eater, and the one who had dodged it must be Kyle. This method of differentiation was ironic but highly effective.
And indeed, Voldemort was right. That person was Kyle.
However, Kyle had not anticipated that Voldemort would go to such extremes, not only showing no mercy to his own followers but also being willing to eradicate the remaining Death Eaters and the entire mountain range to get to him.
In his attempts to evade the raging blaze, he had given away his position to Voldemort.
"So close, yet so far," Kyle sighed.
Having almost reached the seaside, Kyle had been confident in his escape plan. All he needed to do was create more decoys to confuse Voldemort, and then disguise himself as Crabbe or Goyle. With that, he would have a good chance of jumping into the sea and getting away.
But now... Voldemort was willing to kill everyone for him. That plan was obviously useless.
Looking at Voldemort's ferocious expression and the raging inferno around him, Kyle felt only despair.
This time, it seemed he couldn't escape.
He never expected Voldemort to care so much about him. The Dark Lord, who always valued absolute power, had not only specially arranged a counter-spell against his Disillusionment Charm, blocking his escape route, but was also willing to bury fifty Death Eaters with him.
Unless Dumbledore descended from the heavens, Kyle knew his chances of escape were slim.
Kyle looked up at the sky illuminated by the firelight, not a single cloud in sight, let alone Dumbledore.
"Merlin's strawberry socks," Kyle closed his eyes.
Of course, he wasn't planning to give up without a fight.
In several concealed spots within the mountains, a faint light suddenly appeared, revealing several special magical symbols that Kyle had left behind... well, sort of.
If it was just the Blazing Spell, Kyle didn't think he was any worse than Voldemort, but he needed some time.
Voldemort and Kyle simultaneously raised their wands.
The hard ground turned into a swamp, and as Voldemort's body swayed, the Killing Curse that was sure to hit changed direction and landed on the cliff to Kyle's left.
Almost at the same time, Voldemort waved his hand forcefully, stabilizing his body while also summoning a hurricane.
The hurricane carried stones and fallen leaves, forming a giant snake with bared fangs in the air, rushing towards Kyle.
Silver light flickered in front of Kyle, and the shield he had cast transformed into a door... the door to Hogwarts Castle.
The giant snake slammed into the door, and with a loud blast, it shattered into pieces.
"How much longer can you last!"
Voldemort crossed his hands over his head.
A crack appeared in the ground beneath Kyle's feet, and if not for his quick reaction, he would have fallen. But it didn't end there; countless black daggers emerged from the crack, rushing towards Kyle.
Kyle pulled a thick slab of stone from the nearby cliff, covering the crack with a loud bang, also smashing the daggers to pieces.
Kyle panted heavily, as casting such large-scale Softening and Cutting Charms was quite taxing.
Fortunately, he had achieved his goal.
While the two of them were fighting, the magical symbols that Kyle had placed in various locations also lit up completely.
It was as if someone had added a log to a fireplace, as the originally few-feet-high blaze soared to over ten feet in the blink of an eye.
Kyle raised his wand.
All the raging fires began to contract, gathering around Kyle in an instant like a scorching sun.
As the fires contracted, their color also changed rapidly, transforming from the original red to a pale yellow, with a hint of faint gold that appeared and disappeared.
For the first time, Voldemort's expression changed, and he drew in a sharp breath.
He never expected that his Blazing Spell would be commandeered by the young wizard before him, who was not yet twenty years old.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Without hesitation, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse, intending to finish off Kyle.
The Killing Curse struck the 'sun', instantly disintegrating like fireworks, only to be devoured by tendrils of golden flames.
Voldemort's breathing became heavy, and he had a premonition that if he were hit by that mass of fire, he would die.
But Voldemort did not feel fear; he only felt like laughing.
"Ha! The great Dumbledore has actually taught a master of the Blazing Spell!"
Then, he extended his wand.
Following his movement, the stable 'sun' of raging fire suddenly became agitated, and its shape also began to change subtly.
Voldemort was attempting to regain control.
The Blazing Spell was different from other types of dark magic; once this magical fire appeared, it would break free from the caster's control and become a unique life form.
This was also the reason why most wizards could only release the Blazing Spell and not control it, unless they used more complex magical symbol magic.
But this was not set in stone.
Just as Kyle could commandeer Voldemort's fire, Voldemort could also turn the 'sun' of raging fire back onto him.
Now it was a contest of skill.
Meanwhile, at the center of the raging fire, Kyle's face was pale. He took out his box, released Sniffles, and then put the box and a piece of parchment into its inner pouch.
"Hide, and find a chance to give these things to Newt."
Sniffles could squeeze through any narrow gap and burrow deep underground. Even if Voldemort burned the entire mountain range to ashes, he wouldn't be able to find it.
But this was only true for Sniffles.
Kyle hesitated about whether he should hide in the box as well and let Sniffles carry the box to safety.
But that method might not work.
Magical traces couldn't be hidden.
As Dumbledore had said, whenever magic was used, traces would be left behind. That was how he had found the traces of Voldemort's magic in the seaside cave where the Slytherin locket had been hidden, and then discovered the boat hidden under the lake.
This box, created with the Trace-less Extension Charm, was an obvious magical trace.
As numerous and colorful as threads, these magical traces could intertwine with others when out in the open, but if Sniffles led him underground, it would be akin to voluntarily exposing his position.
Given Voldemort's behavior, he would definitely not let Kyle escape. If he found him missing, it wouldn't take long for him to detect the solitary magical trace underground.
It was only a matter of time before he was found.
Kyle hesitated, unsure if he should take the risk.
If Sniffles dug deep enough and Voldemort was unable to penetrate the depths or blow up the entire island, perhaps he could use this opportunity to buy time until reinforcements arrived.
The towering inferno he had unleashed earlier would surely attract a lot of attention, and perhaps Dumbledore was among those alerted. Every second he delayed gave him a better chance of survival.
But Kyle worried that Voldemort possessed such an ability.
As he said before, the Dark Lord knew more than just the Killing Curse, and no one could guarantee what capabilities those dangerous dark magic experiments had granted him.
For instance, the black mist he had displayed could seep into any tiny crevice like genuine fog.
If he were caught, Voldemort would effortlessly acquire the box and the Basilisk within.
He had the power to awaken the Basilisk.
That would truly spell trouble.
Kyle hesitated, struggling with Voldemort for control over the raging fire while his magical power surged from the tip of his wand.
During this process, his face grew increasingly pale, and his consciousness began to blur.
The surrounding inferno started to dissipate once more, evidently due to Voldemort's doing.
Forget it, no more gambling.
With a bite of his teeth, Kyle made a snap decision.
He wanted to take a risk... These flames were gathered for more than just protection.
What if he could kill Voldemort? Even if he couldn't, he could still buy some time to escape.
As long as Voldemort was injured, he might be able to gather all the black dragons here and make a final stand.
Although it would be challenging, there was still a chance.
Kyle controlled his wand with one hand and reached into his bag with the other to grab the Fire Crossbow, always ready to flee.
But as he reached into the bag made from chameleon gecko leather, something hard rolled into his palm.
He was supposed to grab the Fire Crossbow, so what was this? Kyle looked at the object in his hand—a fragment of a blue gem. When did he...
Wait, a gem fragment? Kyle's heart skipped a beat as he remembered what it was.
Kyle abruptly reached out and grabbed Sniffles, who had already burrowed halfway into the ground, pulling him out by the scruff of his neck.
"No need to hide anymore," Kyle said, baring his teeth in a relieved smile.
How could he have forgotten about this? Perhaps it had been too long.
Taking a deep breath, Kyle looked at Voldemort through the gaps in the raging fire.
Since you want it so badly, I'll give it to you.
Kyle raised his wand, and flames shot out from its tip, connecting with the surrounding inferno.
The 'sun' moved.
"Fire God, clear the way!"
Kyle abruptly pointed his wand in Voldemort's direction, and in that moment, he felt his magical power surge forth like a flood.
And the results were immediate.
He had never used Fire God's Blessing to this extent before, not just with raging fire but also with the combined efforts of both him and Voldemort.
The surging flames resembled a tsunami, unleashing a twenty-foot-high wave that crashed down with immense force.
Everything fell silent, and even the incessantly roaring black dragons of the Hebrides closed their mouths at that moment.
From above, the entire Hebrides archipelago appeared to be split in two by a golden wall of flame.
As the primary target, Voldemort sensed the impending danger and transformed himself into a black mist, but half of his body was still charred black by the flames.
For the first time, he felt a threat of death from someone other than Dumbledore... That curse could have killed him!
If he hadn't sensed the danger beforehand... Voldemort looked back, and the elderly Crabbe, who had just run over, was gone.
Yes, gone, with nothing left, as if he had never existed.
At that moment, Voldemort's rage peaked.
It wasn't that he wanted to avenge Crabbe, but he couldn't bear to let another 'Dumbledore' live.
No, that wasn't it. Dumbledore was already over a hundred years old, but Kyle was not even twenty. The younger man posed a greater threat.
Voldemort raised his wand with his uninjured hand.
But he saw Kyle smile and wave at him weakly.
A faint blue light flashed between his fingers, and he disappeared from sight.
Along with Kyle, the last vestiges of Voldemort's sanity also vanished.
"How dare you..."
"Come back, I command you, come back!"
Voldemort went insane, wildly waving his wand and unleashing countless spells on the mountain where Kyle had been standing. Rocks flew, and the towering cliffs were almost flattened by the onslaught of dark magic.
But what did it matter? Voldemort had to admit that once again, he watched helplessly as Kyle escaped from his grasp.
(End of Chapter)
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