The dark green light illuminated the entire room.
The magic of death surged.
Two powerful magical forces intertwined and tore at each other in mid-air, forming a brief but dazzling vortex of energy that shredded the surrounding air, emitting a sharp whistling sound. The light in the underground room became distorted at this moment, and it felt as if the wails of countless souls who had died from the Avada Kedavra curse could be heard.
Facing Voldemort, who had inexplicably been resurrected and regained his magic power through the Philosopher's Stone, and whose strength, though not at its peak, far surpassed that of other wizards, Ian chose to confront him head-on, wielding his own immense magic power to engage in a fierce contest.
Ian knew that the scales of victory would tip in his favor.
Fate held many possibilities, but none of them included him losing to Voldemort, this was the confidence a wizard should have when picking up a wand.
Of course.
To be safe, Ian had already used Voldemort's family to cast a debuff on him, causing the "wizard genes" in Voldemort's body to be continuously suppressed and weakened by the potion.
"To be honest, I've always wanted to test it... how much substance lies beneath the reputation of the so-called Dark Lord Voldemort." Ian's voice carried a hint of excitement.
The seemingly perilous scene did not make him the slightest bit afraid.
"You little bastard, don't you know that no wizard in this world should utter my name directly?" Voldemort's voice was cold as he increased the magic output from his wand.
Although he was affected by Ian's potion, causing the activity of his magic power to continuously decline, his years of experience allowed him to quickly steady himself, his eyes filled with malice.
Years of built-up confidence made Voldemort believe that, aside from Dumbledore, who might have a slight chance of stopping him, all other wizards would ultimately die by his magic.
The history of the past years proved this. As long as he killed this little wizard with his bizarre strength, he would have enough time to deal with the issues caused by the potion's influence.
"I'll make a tombstone for you, and on it, I'll carve these as your last words." Ian stared at the figure that had struck fear into countless wizards.
He tightly gripped his wand, which felt like an extension of himself, in perfect harmony with his thoughts. All the magic power he poured into the wand was unleashed with maximum efficiency.
"Sharp-tongued brat, you can't possibly be a real wizard. At your age, no wizard could possess such powerful magic power."
"Not me, not Dumbledore, and I doubt even Merlin could... Have you never wondered why you're so special?"
Voldemort exaggeratedly shook his wand, feeling the pressure from his opponent and attempting to break Ian's psychological defenses using his knowledge of psychology.
"In the wizarding world, nothing unusual is a coincidence, and no gift comes without a price. I doubt you've ever considered what price lies behind your extraordinary talent."
It must be said that Voldemort's mind had become sharper after his resurrection.
Unfortunately.
Ian had walked his path step by step, remembering every footprint. There was no gift or blessing, he had relied entirely on his own efforts and a little external help in the form of an apple.
"I hate people like you who talk nonsense! Just because you can't do it, you say others can't either! All these years, haven't you ever wondered why you've always been beaten by Dumbledore?"
"Reflect on it! Maybe it's because you're not as hardworking as me!" Ian didn't think Voldemort could answer his questions about the system. His heart remained unmoved by Voldemort's psychological tactics.
"Submit to me, and I'll truly tell you why. Even though you've repeatedly thwarted my plans, I value talent. Despite my deep hatred for you, I'm willing to give you a chance..." Voldemort continued to try to bewitch Ian, realizing that the rate at which his magic power was weakening was far beyond his expectations.
The green lights intertwined in the air, forming a complex pattern, as if two forces were vying for dominance over the space, and his territory was being continuously eroded.
"I can share with you the knowledge Dumbledore refuses to reveal, the power he hides, and even the secrets of immortality."
"I'm a generous person. Stand by my side, and I'll let bygones be bygones for your past actions." Voldemort increased the stakes in his attempt to sway Ian.
Whether he was bluffing or not, his tone sounded sincere. If it weren't for the increasing killing intent in the magic clashing with Ian's... well, Ian still wouldn't believe him.
"I overestimated your intelligence." Ian remained completely unfazed by Voldemort's recruitment attempts. Which of Dumbledore's hidden books couldn't he read if he wanted to?
And immortality? The pitiful existence of Horcruxes could hardly be called immortality.
"I suggest you listen to how the great villain from sixty years ago swayed others. Don't just talk big." Ian's tone was filled with undisguised disdain.
Indeed.
Grindelwald's speeches sounded grand, and he was truly willing to share the benefits. In contrast, the second-generation Dark Lord before him paled in comparison.
There were no tangible benefits. Just dreams, power, and future status.
Any smart person could tell it was all empty talk. Honestly, this outdated manipulation tactic probably wouldn't even fool his two roommates.
Loyalty among his followers relied solely on the threat of death. That's why, after one was imprisoned, his followers remained loyal, while the other's Death Eaters scattered.
"Unfortunately, you've made the wrong choice." Voldemort's expression turned furious after being insulted, though his voice remained cold and calm.
The flesh on the Dark Lord's face began to wither and melt, as if he were using some kind of dark magic, causing the magic power output from his wand to suddenly increase many times over.
Seeing the other's Avada Kedavra curse pressing toward him, Ian showed no sign of worry.
"It's you who made the wrong choice, not me. It seems you still haven't realized that from the moment you stepped into Hogwarts, your fate was sealed."
With a slight flick of his wand, the Avada Kedavra curse clashing with Voldemort's spell in mid-air suddenly split into more than a dozen branches.
They seemed to be given life, or perhaps equipped with navigation, dispersing in the air and transforming into more than a dozen thin dark green beams, shooting toward Voldemort from different angles.
"Damn it! Another one of these tricks!"
This sudden change caught Voldemort off guard. He had seen Ian's bizarre magic in the Hogwarts tunnels, but now it had reached a new level of strangeness.
"You can't possibly have such a strong soul and control!"
Voldemort didn't dare to take the thin dark green beams lightly. After all, even a mosquito-sized Avada Kedavra curse was deadly, and not even the Dark Lord could escape such a rule-bound force.
Seeing the magic flying toward him, Voldemort slammed his wand down, forcibly breaking the stalemate with Ian. He disappeared just before several thin Avada Kedavra curses and a thick one could hit him.
The cunning of magic.
Played out in Voldemort's hands.
He silently reappeared behind Ian, raising his hand to launch a sneak attack, only to find blue flames suddenly erupting from the ground, fiercely lunging at him.
The scorching, deadly magic swept through, forcing Voldemort to disappear again. However, this time, he didn't reappear for several seconds.
Ian looked around.
He didn't have Grindelwald's observational skills, nor could he sense Voldemort's presence. The only thing he was certain of was that Voldemort was still in the room.
"Shadowless Storm!"
Ian couldn't find Voldemort, but he knew how to deal with him, as Ian's spell reached an unprecedented intensity, the entire underground room seemed to be torn apart by an invisible force.
His magic was no longer simple beams or explosions but had transformed into countless invisible blades, like razor-sharp shards in a hurricane, silently yet lethally filling the room.
These blades roamed through the air, cutting through anything in their path. The stone pillars, tables, chairs, and even the sturdy stone walls of the room were reduced to fragments under their cutting force.
Every inch of space was covered.
(To Be Continued…)
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