The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 548: Who is the Dark Lord?

Now that we have figured out the direction...

The answer is obvious.

Voldemort's legendary characteristics might be that...

"You guessed it, didn't you?" Young Tom smiled and spoke, as if he could see through Grindelwald's thoughts. "Yes, thanks to that gift from... 'above,' the characteristic my dear 'Subject' gained when breaking through to the Legendary level is 'Soul Projection.'" He took a step forward, his scarlet eyes flashing with pride and madness.

"All the Horcruxes he created, all the beings that have a deep connection with his soul—whether it's a book, a snake, or some poor diarist—have the potential to be 'activated' and become his independent avatars with complete consciousness and power once he reaches the legendary level."

"We share memories with him, magic with him, and the desire for power with him, yet we each possess our own... freedom." He spread his hands to show himself.

It's like displaying a perfect work of art.

"And I am one of his earliest and most powerful Horcruxes—a fragment of his soul sealed in his diary when he was sixteen. After that foolish girl opened the diary and revealed her soul and the secrets of Hogwarts to me, I was able to draw power and gradually take shape. And when the main body broke through to the legendary level, his vast, chaotic magic acted like a key, unlocking the dormant 'seeds' of all the Horcruxes. We...were all awakened."

Grindelwald's heart skipped a beat.

Are they all awake?

Does that mean there's more than one?!

As if in response to his guess, several figures flickered in the darkness behind Tom. Although they were not fully revealed, the faint magical fluctuations were enough to prove their presence.

"Of course, we are not entirely independent of the subject," Tom added, with a hint of playful regret in his tone. "We still maintain a connection with him on a soul level. For example, right now, he can sense that I am 'chatting' with you, although he cannot extricate himself for the time being—Professor Dumbledore's mental intrusion has indeed caused him a little trouble, but it won't last long."

He paused, his crimson eyes fixed on the two figures standing frozen in the distance, his smile deepening.

"The main body asked me to tell you: Enjoy your 'game' with me. He'll come back to play with you after he's dealt with Dumbledore. Oh, and by the way, there's that other guy." His gaze swept further away to the dark-haired young man still standing quietly in the same spot, a brief, casual hint of doubt flashing in his eyes before he looked away again.

"That unknown 'spectator.' Hopefully, he can hold on until then." This person was, of course, referring to Ian, who was no longer the Tom the Diary that Ian had trained.

The timeline has changed too much.

Ian remained motionless. His face appeared unusually calm in the dim ruins, his deep, unfathomable eyes observing everything as if watching a drama that had nothing to do with him.

Grindelwald took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He was facing a young version of the Dark Lord, possessing most of Voldemort's memories and magic, yet existing independently!

Moreover, there may be even more clones lurking in the shadows! Dumbledore is trapped in a mental battle, not knowing when he will be able to escape, and may even... fail. And he, an old man who is frail and whose magic has been sealed for many years, now only has a stolen wand that is not entirely obedient, has to fight against such an existence alone?

The chances of winning are slim.

But he had no other choice.

He gripped his wand tightly, and the wand, sensing its master's tension and pressure, trembled even more violently in its resistance. Grindelwald snorted coldly. He pressed down with even stronger willpower, temporarily subduing him.

"A split, incomplete soul dares to challenge me?" Grindelwald spoke coldly, his voice carrying the indomitable pride of a former Dark Lord. "I've lived for nearly a century, and I've witnessed far more darkness and madness than you can imagine. Kid, if you want to play, I'll play with you."

Upon hearing this, Tom was not angry at all. Instead, he let out a soft laugh, a laugh that was exactly like Voldemort's signature snarl.

"Interesting. As expected of Grindelwald, who once made all of Europe tremble." He bowed slightly, the movement elegant yet provocative. "Then, please."

He raised his hand, and the chaotic magic gathering at his fingertips began to spin and expand, forming a small, constantly twisting dark vortex. The air around the vortex began to crack, revealing brief, fleeting, irrational void fissures.

Grindelwald took a deep breath, held his wand horizontally across his chest, and began to chant an ancient and powerful defensive spell. He knew that against this strange power, any underestimation would be instantly fatal.

Just as the two were about to clash...

In the distance, between the two frozen figures, Voldemort's body trembled slightly. A light seemed to flicker deep within his crimson eyes. The battle in the mental realm seemed to be nearing its conclusion.

Further away, the black-haired young man, forgotten by everyone, finally turned his deep, pool-like eyes slightly and landed on the young "Tom".

His gaze was calm as water, yet deep as an abyss.

No one noticed that, the instant his gaze fell upon him, the dark vortex surrounding young Tom, who was gathering magic in preparation for his attack on Grindelwald, paused for an extremely brief, almost imperceptible moment… It paused for only a fraction of a second, vanishing in an instant. Tom himself didn't even notice.

But it did happen.

then.

Everything returned to normal.

next moment.

The clash between Grindelwald and young Tom erupts on the edge of the night market ruins.

The purplish-black flames collided with the dark, chaotic vortex, erupting in blinding light and deafening roar. Although Grindelwald was old and his magic had been sealed for many years, his ingrained fighting instincts and profound understanding of dark magic allowed him to unleash terrifying attacks even with a wand that was not entirely obedient.

"Wildfire Dance!"

With a wave of his wand, Fiendfyre transformed into several ferocious fire serpents, lunging at Tom from different angles, attempting to bypass the eerie, chaotic barrier. However, Tom merely smiled, raised his hand, and casually drew a circle with his fingertips—the fire serpents abruptly stopped three feet from his body, then, as if striking an invisible millstone, were twisted, torn apart, and vanished into nothingness.

"It's useless, Mr. Grindelwald." Tom's voice was soft and pleasant, his scarlet eyes gleaming with a playful, cat-and-mouse amusement. "The power of the Main Force far exceeds your imagination. And I, as its earliest and most perfect avatar, also share this...gift from deep space." He raised his other hand, and a constantly spinning dark vortex appeared in his palm. The vortex grew larger and larger, from which countless tiny, living black tentacles surged, spreading towards Grindelwald. Wherever the tentacles passed, the rubble, debris, and even the air itself were silently "swallowed," leaving behind patches of empty, chilling emptiness.

Grindelwald's expression changed drastically. He quickly Apparated, narrowly escaping the reach of the eerie tentacles. He appeared ten feet away, slightly out of breath, his hand holding the wand trembling slightly.

"Spatial devouring..." he murmured, his voice filled with undisguised shock. "This is...this is..."

"This is an extended application of the legendary properties." Tom smiled and retracted his tentacles, like a child showing off a new toy. "The main body calls it the 'Void Realm.' Any matter, energy, or even magic touched by it will be 'returned' to the void. Of course, it can only be used on a small scale for now, but it should be enough to deal with you."

He took a step forward, and the tendrils spread out from his feet again, slowly but irresistibly expanding the area they covered.

Grindelwald gritted his teeth, his figure flashing once more as he dodged the spreading death. He tried every attack imaginable—Fiendfire, Slicing Charm, Shattering Charm, even Summoning Charm—but all the magic vanished the moment it touched that "Void Realm," disappearing without a trace. He was in an unprecedented predicament.

Further beyond these ruins, the massacre continued.

Tom's appearance temporarily drew the attention of some Death Eaters, but after their initial shock, the majority resumed their carnage against Muggles. They scattered, like wolves drawn by the scent of blood, rampaging through the ruins of the night market and its surroundings. "Hahaha! There are still a few hiding over there!"

"It'll rip your heart out! Scream! Scream loudly!"

"Avada Kedavra! One, two, three... That was exhilarating!"

Screams, maniacal laughter, and incantations mingled into a symphony of hell. Muggles scattered like frightened sheep across the once-familiar city, but no matter where they fled, they could not escape the black-robed, masked reapers of death.

Just then

A deafening roar echoed through the sky.

Several blinding beams of searchlight pierced the night sky, illuminating the area shrouded in death. Everyone—Death Eaters and surviving Muggles alike—involuntarily looked up.

Three British fighter planes are approaching in low-altitude formation!

The silver-gray fuselage, the air-to-ground missiles mounted under the wings, and the resolute face of the pilot in the cockpit all looked particularly striking against the magically distorted night sky.

"Oh my god...it's our army!"

"Fighter jets! Fighter jets are coming!"

The surviving Muggles cheered with relief, some even waving their arms excitedly. They didn't understand magic, nor why these black-robed figures were so powerful, but they believed in the giant steel birds, the pilots, and the technological advancements of human civilization. However, the Death Eaters, after a brief moment of astonishment, erupted in even more frenzied laughter.

"Fighter jets? Hahaha! These Muggles think those tin birds can save them?"

"Let them see what real power is!"

A tall Death Eater wearing a silver mask stepped forward, his wand pointing to the sky. Instead of casting an attack spell, he began chanting a long and complex transfiguration incantation—a nearly forbidden spell mastered only by the most skilled transfiguration masters. The moment the first missile, trailing a fiery exhaust, detached from the wing and hurtled towards the ground…

His spell was complete.

"Transformation: Turning Steel into Stone!"

An invisible surge of magical energy erupted into the sky, precisely enveloping the missile! Before everyone's horrified eyes, the weapon, representing the pinnacle of modern technology, began to twist, deform, and fade in its metallic shell, ultimately... transforming into an ordinary, even moss-covered, rock! The missile, now stone, lost its power, tumbled and plummeted to the ground with a dull thud, then shattered into several pieces. There was no explosion, no fire, only a pile of harmless rubble.

The pilots, watching from above through the cockpit canopy, stared in disbelief.

"What...what is that?!"

"My God! The missile turned to stone!"

"That's impossible!"

But one "impossible" thing after another happened.

Another Death Eater, laughing maniacally, pointed at one of the fighter jets: "Your turn! Transform! Steel Wings—Turn into a paper kite!" A magical spell struck the fighter jet precisely as it circled, adjusting its attack posture. The silver-gray metal fuselage, at a visible speed, began to become transparent, fragile, and rippled… A few seconds later, a multi-million pound advanced fighter jet, representing the pinnacle of human aviation technology, had transformed in mid-air into a giant, paper-folded toy airplane!

The paper airplane lost all power and weight, floated lightly in the air and tumbled a few times, then was blown about by the night wind and finally fell, like a giant fallen leaf, crashing into the ruins and instantly shattering into countless pieces of paper.

The pilot didn't even have time to parachute—or rather, when his cockpit, seat, and parachute were all turned to paper, he himself became the most vulnerable being.

The remaining two fighter pilots, gripped by extreme fear, instinctively pulled back on the stick and climbed, attempting to escape the demon-stricken airspace. "Retreat! Retreat! This is hell!"

"They are not human! They are devils!"

The radio was filled with terrified screams. But it was too late.

The third Death Eater—a small, fanatical woman—let out a shrill laugh, pointed her wand at the sky, and cast a wide-area "Falling Charm."

"Get down here, all of you!"

Two fighter jets that were climbing suddenly lost their engines, all their instruments malfunctioned, and they plummeted straight down from hundreds of meters in the air like soulless steel corpses! The pilots’ desperate screams came through the radio to the command center, only to be swallowed up by a violent explosion—two fireballs rose on the distant horizon, illuminating the night sky.

On the ground, the surviving Muggles were completely devastated.

They knelt on the ground, some weeping bitterly, some murmuring prayers, and some who had completely lost their minds, staring blankly at the sky with empty eyes.

Fighter jets...the fighter jets all failed.

What else can save them?

What else...? Far away in London, in an emergency meeting room of the National Security Council, there was a deathly silence.

On the enormous projection screen, infrared images transmitted from a high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft were playing—strange energy fluctuations, missiles and fighter jets that had seemingly vanished into thin air, and phenomena that defied any scientific explanation. The Prime Minister's face was ashen, his hands gripping the table, his gaze fixed intently on the screen.

As the head of state.

Of course he knew those were wizards.

He just never realized how powerful wizards could be!