A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Voldemort gazed at the night sky, his black robe rustling alongside the wild grass in the cool breeze.

Crunching footsteps echoed from behind.

"Felix Harp..." he said slowly, turning to watch as Felix approached calmly, as if strolling through a park, observing his surroundings with a hint of curiosity.

"No one else around, no traps," Felix remarked. "Honestly, I'm a bit surprised."

"Do I need them?" Voldemort countered.

They locked eyes in the dim light, Voldemort holding his wand ready for battle yet desiring a few more words before engaging.

"I had intended the battlefield to be at the Ministry of Magic, but interference would have been too much," Voldemort regretfully shared.

"I thought you were concerned about being caught between me and Dumbledore," Felix said.

"I did have that concern. It turns out such caution is necessary..." Voldemort uttered softly. "Just one inferior vampire was enough to test the waters. Whose idea was that? Certainly not Dumbledore; he knows I'm not that gullible."

Felix remained silent.

"The Minister?" Voldemort grinned. "She's clever but doesn't quite understand me yet. The fiercer the resistance, the more casualties."

"It's strange how blatantly you speak of preserving your life. Dumbledore saw through you long ago—You value your own life but care little for others'," Felix remarked. "Like that vampire and those two loyal Death Eaters, discarded like trash."

"Loyalty? I don't need that. As long as they fear my power, they'll obey me," Voldemort murmured. "You know, those who first followed me, the ones who are old now, dead... when you've lived as long as I have, servants are endless. Do I need to understand each one?"

"Felix Harp, you still hold onto human emotions, clinging to those feeble sentiments... When you're as old as Dumbledore, unable to even hold a wand, and I remain as powerful as ever, then you'll understand my greatness."

"You place yourself in the position of the immortal?" Felix asked, surprised.

"I am now," Voldemort stated.

He held his wand, slender and pale, his fingers tracing its surface as he calmly introduced it, "Yew, dragon heartstring, 18 inches, an excellent combination, previously wasted in the hands of an incapable owner..."

Felix recognized it as Lucius Malfoy's wand.

"Your turn, Felix Harp," Voldemort said, intrigued.

Felix, empty-handed, pulled out a coin to toy with.

"Blackthorn, dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, my first wand. Unfortunately destroyed that night," he sighed. "I haven't found a suitable replacement yet, but it's not a big issue. I don't have the same dire need for a wand as you do—can't cast the Killing Curse without one, can you?"

"Because my magic is too potent," Voldemort maliciously smiled. "It was foolish for you to appear here tonight empty-handed, but it's normal. I'm troubled by it too. Wizards like you and me, finding a fitting wand isn't easy."

"What about your own wand?" Felix curiously inquired.

Typically, unless one's character or magical abilities drastically changed, wizards wouldn't readily replace their wands. The initial wand grew alongside its owner, adapting to each other, allowing them to unleash their full magical potential without inhibition.

Voldemort's face twisted slightly. His wand... Dumbledore had taken it. He gritted his teeth; it might have been destroyed.

Since his return, he couldn't wield his full strength because his wand couldn't endure it. Little Crouch's wand was decent, but it, too, had suffered after the battle a month ago. Each time he held it, he felt the wand's distress.

Forced, Voldemort switched to Lucius's wand. Lucius was fortunate; otherwise, he'd be held responsible for today's daytime attack. Who let his son develop the Fiendfyre spell with Potter?

Though Lucius swore it was Felix Harp's perverse pleasure—pairing up students with vendettas—Draco was an unintended victim, offering up his own wand voluntarily, yet the great Dark Lord remained dissatisfied.

He desperately desired a potent wand that matched his strength and status.

Felix smirked, unaware that Dumbledore had taken Voldemort's wand, assuming it was lost years ago. Still, that didn't stop Felix from needling Voldemort's sore spot.

"It seems only the two of us understand this kind of trouble. You know, resurrection."

He emphasized the last word, expecting Voldemort's reaction to be intense.

"You're lying," Voldemort retorted sharply, his crimson eyes fixed on Felix's face. "Felix Harp... I've pondered for long; my magic didn't strike you, or at best, only hit a part... Have you also altered your body?"

Felix sensed something in that statement but set it aside for later. He made a mental note, then continued strategizing for the impending battle, "You've guessed it. Seems my modifications were successful. The only downside is losing my own wand, but at least it didn't disfigure me... And I think my eyes are much prettier than yours."

Compared to the crimson depths in Voldemort's sockets, Felix's pupils exuded an enigmatic allure, captivating.

This was the price for acquiring power; you wouldn't understand! Voldemort thought bitterly. However, these words couldn't be uttered to Felix, and there was no need to continue. He raised his wand, a brilliant green light piercing through the darkness, aimed directly at Felix.

In Felix's hand, the coin rapidly expanded in the air, growing to immense proportions, resembling a thick copper wall shielding him.

The Killing Curse was blocked.

"What—" Voldemort exclaimed incredulously.

"This is the power of money," Felix teased. "Maybe that's something you can't fathom, considering you were broke in school and didn't bother with an honest job after graduation—"

"You think I only know the Unforgivable Curses?" Voldemort displayed an icy smile. His wand lashed out like a whip, sending shards of stone hurtling towards Felix, emitting a piercing shriek. Felix vanished from sight, only to reappear behind Voldemort, holding a glowing book of ancient runes. Flipping open a page, phantom forms of ancient magic surged from the book, intertwining with the myriad runic symbols, forming hundreds of black lightning bolts that rained down upon Voldemort.

Following the black bolts, pale flames congealed into sharp swords, piercing through the darkness like thin paper.

A cacophony of ripping and thudding filled the air. Voldemort conjured a silver shield that blocked the black lightning bolts, but it was swiftly pierced by the fiery swords, emitting a sizzling sound.

With a forceful gesture, Voldemort sent the silver shield soaring into the sky, where it was incinerated in the air.

Felix instinctively extended his arm, his wand drawing a circle, enclosing himself within. Instantly, the surrounding weeds surged, transforming into writhing serpents that hissed and coiled around Felix. Then, this endless sea of green serpents surged forward. Prepared, Felix unleashed streams of golden flames from his hand, shaping into furious Erumpents, massive creatures from the uncharted mountains. Rearing up on their colossal hooves, they trampled the grass snakes, turning them to ash.

Voldemort muttered incantations in a raspy, eerie hiss—a peculiar serpentine tone that made Felix shudder; he recognized it as Parseltongue.

With caution, he shifted his phantom form to the other side, but abruptly, everything darkened, the sound vanishing alongside. It felt like his senses were seized, cursed… It struck Felix in an instant. Through his magical sight, Voldemort’s power surged, forming an ominous fluctuation—

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Armour Protectus!" fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

The Killing Curse and the corporeal Iron Armor Curse clashed. A towering steel knight brandishing a blood-stained shield stood in defense. The force of the Killing Curse made Felix's hair stand on end; he wondered if Harry's protective magic would hold up...

In the midst of chaos, Felix, placing his hand on the knight's armor, redirected the curse onto it. In an instant of regained vision, Felix vanished from the spot, simultaneously engulfing the knight in a dazzling green light.

What was Voldemort's weakness?

Emotions?

Felix pondered swiftly, conjuring Patronus Swallows. The silver guardians gracefully maneuvered, dodging green spells. As they neared Voldemort, they suddenly expanded, unleashing two black Dementors.

A chilling cold spread, freezing the air, mist gathering in the frigid night, hovering around.

"Dementors?" Voldemort sneered. "You employ Dementors against me?" His eyes reddened. The Dementors dared not approach; they scattered, fleeing. After two deep black glares, they hung still, like withered rags, suspended in mid-air. They seemed not dead but immobilized, drifting in the air, the folds of their black cloaks swaying weakly, becoming a backdrop to the battle.

However, that wasn't Felix's aim at all.

He forcibly dragged the Room of Thought from his mind into reality. Felix and the Patronus Swallows' senses connected, the guardians also serving as anchor points for positioning. Then Felix's figure flickered continuously, much faster than before! Silent spells cleaved through the air and rock, fracturing the earth into an impenetrable grid. Voldemort struggled to keep up; he attempted apparition several times, only to be effortlessly pursued by Felix. Both darted at high speed, disappearing the instant spells were cast, but Voldemort soon ceased, unable to adapt as well as Felix to this tactic.

Brown earth and stones were magically fused into solid walls, barely holding against spells from all sides, yet Felix sustained his first injury in the battle.

"Felix Harp!" Voldemort roared.

In response, a lightning-like silver streak—Felix's Patronus Swallows—coiled around Voldemort. Empowered by the Room of Thought, it briefly solidified, clamping onto Voldemort's wand while Felix held a swirling, sphere-like vortex. Deep blue magical energy spun rapidly inside, unleashing a powerful suction force… Voldemort's face contorted, the protective walls shattered.

Felix released his grip, and the colorless vortex swiftly headed toward him.

Voldemort finally broke free from the entanglement. The serpent-bird entwined around him took on a deep emerald hue that swiftly spread, then vanished. Immediately, a green light surged from his wand, piercing into the vortex. The blue magical energy inside exploded, entangling Voldemort, his body rapidly shrinking.

"Hiss~"

Voldemort's face oscillated, swelling to the size of a pumpkin, then shrinking to that of a fist. Clearly disadvantaged, his crimson eyes fixed on Felix, who was turning the pages of an ancient spell book, preparing for an immense ancient magic.

A black mist burst from Voldemort's body, lingering as the grass and leaves around dried instantly, the soil tainted black. Voldemort decided to depart but attempted one last move, lifting his wand. Its tip emitted a deep green light, so deep it banished the darkness, revealing vague figures within.

Felix felt a chilling sensation, his thoughts seemingly halted as he stared at that green light.

The spellbook rustled as ancient magic poured forth freely. Felix distanced himself, erecting an air barrier in front.

The green light and the violent explosion lifted the battleground, soil, debris, and rippling green light halted three feet from Felix, then slowly advanced, accompanied by crackling sounds as his magic began to crumble.

Forced to disappear once more, Felix watched Voldemort through the swirling dust, realizing the air barrier he had high hopes for had lasted less than three seconds before crumbling.

Voldemort's Killing Curse was incredibly potent, seemingly able to 'kill' magic itself. If I had such a spell, I'd probably rely on it alone, Felix thought.

Voldemort stood still, casting a cold glance at him, before contorting and vanishing. He was gone.

"Clatter."

The wand fell to the ground. Shattering into shards.

>

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