Chapter 602 The Ultimate Snake

Strong emotions cross the space, using each other's hearts as bonds, and descending on the fierce battlefield.

Voldemort with a fierce thought of killing waved his wand—

"Bang!"

His snake wooden stick made a loud, echo-like burst, and then a large amount of black gas surged from his body.

"Harry Potter!?"

Voldemort screamed incredibly, he was sure that he had heard the boy's voice, not an hallucination. He looked around the smoke and dust that had not yet dissipated, as if a person would suddenly jump out of it.

But this is absolutely impossible. Before the formal duel, he set up a warning spell throughout the valley.

Voldemort suddenly disappeared and appeared on the edge of the battlefield. The dark magic power on his body seemed to be uncontrollably dissipated. As soon as he left his body, they betrayed their masters and turned into dense maggots, attached to Voldemort's robe, hands, face... to swallow him up.

But Voldemort ignored it, the fearful magic fire was nothing to him. "Come out, Harry Potter!" He roared, constantly shaking his head, and finally found a sneaky figure from a corner of his mind...

He suddenly realized, and then furious, wishing to rush into Hogwarts Castle immediately and tear Harry, who had repeatedly tried to break his plan, to pieces.

But he finally forced Dumbledore to a dead end, how could he give up like this? Besides, his Horcrux was still in Dumbledore's hands! Therefore, he could only suppress his resentment and reluctance and try to drive Harry Potter out of his mind.

But he soon realized that this was not an easy task. The boy opposite was like a candy, resolutely refusing to leave.

For a moment, the good situation seemed to be about to be reversed, and he was in a triple crisis at the same time - Harry Potter penetrated his mind and thoughts; the dissipated out-of-control magic turned into maggots; and the biggest threat Dumbledore - Voldemort was furious for wasting a great opportunity for himself, and his hatred for Harry became deeper.

But he couldn't help but feel some unsettling worry in his heart, that prophecy... the prophecy that he had never been able to witness the whole picture... the person who had the ability to defeat the black devil came close...

Why is he?

A strong anger surged into my heart, burning wildly, Voldemort's black robe swelled up, and the maggots attached to it fell to the ground, turning into black magic again.

He opened his mouth and sucked it, and the magic power came back.

Then he quickly set up several lines of defense in his mind, barely isolated the influence of Harry Potter on him - if he was given time, he could easily drive the enemy out, but now he could not distribute his extra energy and could only defend passively;

After solving two troubles, he stared at the gradually clear dust, Dumbledore's looming figure showed him standing up. Voldemort didn't care. The previous battle had already shown that Old Dumbledore was no match for him.

It's just that it's not clear whether it's an illusion, Dumbledore's outline seems to be a little taller.

Did he step on a stone?

"Zheng!"

The solemn tremolo echoed in the valley.

As if he was provoked, a noisy "hiss" sounded - this was a kind of profound magic arranged by Voldemort with a snake wooden stick. The ubiquitous snake sound was like a curse, and if he was not careful, it would attach to Dumbledore.

But now this magic has been broken, at least half of it, and the two sounds are reflected in each other, and no one can overwhelm each other.

"Is this your trump card?" Voldemort said with a grin, "Do you know what happened just now? I found a guest for our duel. He broke in with a good intention and wanted to act as a witness... He will witness how you were defeated with his own eyes, and then, I will very happily...return the 'surprise' he brought to me."

"Is that right, Tom? I don't think I have to be so troublesome, I will express my gratitude to him in person," said Dumbledore.

Voldemort narrowed his snake-like eyes, his pupils staring at the opposite side like a thin slit. The resentment in his heart made him ignore some of the abnormality of the tone. He said in a high-pitched, evil voice: "You are still so stubborn, Dumbledore, when I stepped on you, I, I-"

He took a breath and held his words in his throat, as if someone had suddenly strangled his neck.

The smoke and dust completely dissipated.

Dumbledore looks completely different.

He was originally tall and tall with a bent waist, but now his back was straight; most of the white beard that could be stuffed into his belt fell off, just before Voldemort's eyes, the last long beard fell off, and then a fine reddish-brown stubble emerged from his smooth chin, growing wildly, and in the blink of an eye it turned into a circle of tight beards, exactly the same color as his hair at the moment.

The deep wrinkles on the corners of the eyes and forehead were quickly smoothed out, and the slightly shriveled cheeks became plump. The nose, which had been broken at least twice, seemed to have never been injured at all, became straight and straight. Dumbledore stretched out his slender and powerful fingers, and the old wand trembled excitedly in his hand, and the roar that had just confronted the snake wooden wand was it.

No one who sees this wand will doubt its extraordinaryness. The magic power wrapped around it is terrifying. It is definitely not inferior to the powerful wand of the snake-wood staff held in Voldemort's hand. But Voldemort miserly did not give a trace of attention, and his entire attention was focused on the face that belonged to the middle-aged man.

"Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked in a daze.

"Please forgive me... there is a big change, but it is me."

Dumbledore turned his wrist lightly, and the old wand responded eagerly, and the power of the spell shot from the wand made Voldemort frightened. He struggled to block the spell, but the aftermath left a small wound on him like a knife.

"This is impossible!" Voldemort screamed, and he mobilized the magic power in his body and injected them into the snake wooden staff. But Dumbledore suddenly appeared in front of him, grabbed the snake wooden staff with one hand, and the tip of the old magic wand transformed into a sharp blade with half a flash of cold light, slashing towards Voldemort's chest.

Blood splashed everywhere.

Voldemort turned into a ball of black mist and appeared from a distance. The shock and shock in his eyes were too fast. Dumbledore's offensive speed was far beyond his imagination, and the change was completely different.

No, they were two of them!

One is old; the other is in his prime. Dumbledore, at his peak, has not seen many people in this era, but Voldemort met today. He raised his head in panic, and the sky was surrounded by clouds and mist, condensing a lot of magic.

The air became viscous and pressed him from all directions. He felt like a little bug falling into the resin, and it became difficult for the phantom to move.

Before he could react, Voldemort used the Scarlet Fire Curse.

The fire of Li condensed into a fire snake, and this giant pushed up Dumbledore hard. Dumbledore waved his wand, and the soil rippled like water waves, sinking like a landslide, like a lake of dams. The fire of Li struggled, but it sinked deeper and deeper, and finally disappeared completely.

Dumbledore looked at Voldemort, his azure eyes were revealed, and the meaning seemed to be saying, don't try to escape this time. Voldemort was a little scared. He had never seen Dumbledore in this state, but he was unwilling to let him leave. He could see that this state would not last for too long...

Maybe it can delay time?

No, he didn't believe Dumbledore could break his killing curse.

"Avada chewed the big tile!"

Voldemort tried his best. The dazzling green light converged like water, and the killing curse seemed like a substance, condensed into a green-robed god of death waving a sickle - this is a portrayal of Voldemort's inner heart. He claimed that he had conquered death and could control death. Is there anything better that can show his identity than driving death?

The green-robed god of death suddenly waved his sickle, and the green light bloomed, and the deep valley was reflected like a ghost. The startled birds flew halfway and fell down powerlessly. All creatures - trees, birds, small beasts, even stones, soil, and dead leaves, lost their original colors, as if they had a short life and were completely given death.

The green light emitted by the Death Scythe seemed to melt everything, and the area where the two of them were fighting continued to sink.

But it was blocked.

The clouds in the sky were torn off and surrounded Dumbledore, and experienced a series of complex deformations. Dumbledore waved his wand, and the gorgeous fire clouds were released like a spell, condensed into a red light, wrapped around the green-robed god of death, connected with its sickle.

"You want to use this thing to deal with the god of death?" Voldemort roared, injecting magic into the wand frantically. The tip of the wand and the green-robed god of death were connected together with a green chain, providing it with continuous power and helping it break free from its shackles.

The green light became even more powerful, and the fire clouds wrapped around the green-robed god of death sounded "sizzling", but then a golden light burst out, just like the sunset in the sky, and the golden light was imprinted on the chains formed by the fire clouds, forming mysterious patterns.

This is not a transfiguration - at least not all, it seems that few people realize Dumbledore's other identity, the alchemist. Then Dumbledore threw all the clouds around him into it, and the golden red chains "rustled" and kept twisting like life. Finally, a thread was split from the God of Death, extending to the opposite side along the magic connection between the Green Robe Death and Voldemort.

Voldemort's eyes widened, and the golden thread climbed up Voldemort's snake wooden staff, and his wrist suddenly tensed.

He lost.

He had to leave, and he wanted the phantom to move away, but found that he could not move at all. Voldemort lowered his head, his feet were entangled by the crazy green grass, and the magic power surging on the blades and the flashing magic symbols made his heart fall down little by little.

The golden red chain condensed by the fire clouds locked Voldemort, and the more he entangled, the more the magic power in his body slowly fell silent. Finally, he was forced to let go of his hand and the snake wooden stick fell to the ground. The green-robed god of death, who had lost his magic support, dissipated little by little.

Voldemort fell to the ground and looked at Dumbledore, with a calm expression on his face, even though it was a completely different face.

"What are you going to do next, kill me?" Voldemort asked fiercely.

Dumbledore didn't say anything. He took a few steps back and sat on a chair that had temporarily turned out to be slender, looking at Voldemort tiredly. His face gradually crawled with wrinkles, wrinkles, and lost its luster... In just two or three minutes, a century had passed.

Voldemort seemed to have forgotten that he had lying on the ground, that he had been defeated and captured, and watched this scene quietly.

“Is it worth it?”

"Worth it." Dumbledore said in a very light, but firm voice, "I am much older than others, experienced more, and worth much less. Besides, I have an unshirkable responsibility for your actions, of course not all - I am not so arrogant, but I am indeed bringing you into the magical world."

"Hypocrisy." Voldemort laughed, and a whistle came from afar, "Oh, someone is here, let me guess, it's people from the Ministry of Magic? It's unlikely that you can't believe them; Order of the Phoenix? Those people are vulnerable... it's Felix Hepp?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "I don't know either. I didn't tell anyone the duel location. Why not wait and see."

After he finished speaking, the two fell silent.

Dumbledore's eyes swept through the dilapidated valley, and the picturesque place was completely destroyed, with a pothole and a charred area. He lowered his head and stared at the old wand, as if it had been dead and motionless.

"What's its name?" Voldemort asked suddenly.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment and said, "Old Wand."

For a moment Voldemort's expression was wonderful. "So that's it." He said in a low voice: "I've searched for its whereabouts...but it doesn't look very obedient."

"It longs for blood, for disputes, and I can't satisfy it," Dumbledore explained.

Voldemort's eyes moved away from the old wand, staring at the abominable calm old face on the chair, and said evilly: "You are doing useless work, do you know, Dumbledore?"

"I have the opposite view of you." Dumbledore said briefly, and he moved his body down to make himself more comfortable.

"Don't you give me a chair?" Voldemort said playfully.

Dumbledore smiled, "You seem optimistic - but I don't think it's necessary, you will be transferred to a new place soon."

"Don't tell me it's Azkaban? I don't believe you are so naive." Voldemort licked his lips and asked tentatively.

"I'm not naive, I just have expectations for human nature." Dumbledore corrected, "I thought, if I could give you more care and less vigilance, would you still be like this?"

Voldemort was a little surprised, and he laughed mercilessly: "Also say that he is not naive? Dumbledore, do you want to explain to me the most powerful force in your mind - love? When I was very young, I realized the importance of power before I met you. It will win you awe and gain obedience from the weak - you can't kill me, Dumbledore, I will make a comeback. Just as I was just chatting, I figured out something that was related to our guests, my little friend Harry Potter..."

He suddenly shut his mouth, raised his head, and a figure fell from the sky.

It was Felix, who landed on the ground and looked around, like a traveler who had missed the place. Then he walked towards the two, with a brisk pace and a pretty good mood.

"Felix Hepp, you're here," Voldemort croaked, greeting like an old friend. "We've just talked about you."

"Thank you, I'm honored." Felix said, bypassing Voldemort on the ground, and pressing Voldemort back as he passed, then walked straight to Dumbledore, looked at him carefully, and asked, "Are you okay?"

"It's never been so good." Dumbledore joked, his eyes still resting on Voldemort, to be precise, behind him, he seemed to have found something interesting, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.
To be continued...