Chapter 602 Ouroboros

Strong emotions crossed space, using each other's hearts as a bond, and descended on the fierce battlefield.

Voldemort, with a burning desire to kill, waved his wand -

"Bang!"

His snakewood wand made a loud, echoing explosion, and then a large amount of black air poured out of his body.

"Harry Potter!?"

Voldemort shouted in disbelief. He was very sure that he heard the boy's voice, not an illusion. He looked around at the smoke and dust that had not yet dissipated, as if someone would suddenly jump out of it.

But this was impossible. Before the official duel, he set up a warning spell throughout the valley.

Voldemort suddenly disappeared and appeared at the edge of the battlefield. The boiling dark magic on his body seemed to dissipate uncontrollably. As soon as they left the body, they betrayed their master and turned into dense maggots, clinging to Voldemort's robes, hands, face... to devour him completely.

But Voldemort didn't care. The terrifying magic backfire was nothing to him. "Come out, Harry Potter!" He roared, shaking his head constantly, and finally found a sneaky figure from a corner of his mind. . .

He suddenly realized, and then he was furious. He wanted to rush into Hogwarts Castle immediately and tear Harry, who repeatedly tried to ruin his plan, into pieces.

But he had finally forced Dumbledore into a dead end. How could he just give up? Besides, his Horcrux was still in Dumbledore's hands! So he could only suppress his resentment and unwillingness and try to drive Harry Potter out of his mind.

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

For a moment, the good situation seemed to be reversed. He was in three crises at the same time - Harry Potter penetrated into his mind and thoughts; the uncontrolled magic power turned into maggots; and the biggest threat was Dumbledore - Voldemort was furious that he had wasted a great opportunity, and his hatred for Harry deepened.

But he couldn't help but feel a kind of disturbing worry in his heart. That prophecy... that prophecy that he had never seen in its entirety... someone who had the ability to defeat the dark devil was approaching...

Why did he do that!?

A strong anger surged in his heart, burning fiercely, and Voldemort's black robe fluttered, and the maggots attached to it fell to the ground and turned into dark magic again.

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

Then he quickly arranged several lines of defense in his mind, barely isolating Harry Potter's influence on him - if he was given time, he could easily drive the enemy out, but he couldn't spare any extra energy now, so he could only passively defend; after

solving two problems, he stared at the gradually clear dust, and Dumbledore's looming figure showed that he stood up. Voldemort didn't care. The previous battle had shown that old man Dumbledore was not his opponent.

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

Is he stepping on a stone?

"Zheng!"

The solemn tremor echoed in the valley.

As if provoked by something, a noisy "hissing" sound rang out - this is some kind of advanced magic that Voldemort arranged with a snakewood staff. The ubiquitous snake sound is like a curse, and it will attach to Dumbledore if you are not careful.

But now this magic has been broken, at least half of it, and the two voices complement each other, and no one can overwhelm the other.

"Is this your trump card, Dumbledore—" Voldemort said with a sneer, "Do you know what just happened? I found a guest for our duel, and he barged in without permission to act as a witness... He will see with his own eyes how you were defeated, and then, I will be very happy to... return the 'surprise' he brought to me."

"Really, Tom? I don't think it's that troublesome, I will personally express my gratitude to him." Dumbledore said.

Voldemort narrowed his snake-like eyes, and stared at the opposite side with scarlet eyes with pupils like a slit. The resentment in his heart made him ignore some abnormalities in his voice. 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 the words were stuck in his throat, as if someone suddenly strangled him.

The smoke and dust completely dissipated.

Dumbledore looked completely different.

He was originally tall and thin, with a slightly bent waist, but now his back was straight; most of his gray beard, which was long enough to be tucked into his belt, fell off. Right in front of Voldemort, the last long beard fell off, and then fine reddish-brown stubble emerged from his smooth chin, growing wildly, and in the blink of an eye, it became a circle of tight beards, exactly the same color as his hair at the moment.

The deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and forehead were quickly smoothed, and his slightly shriveled cheeks became plump. His nose, which had been broken at least twice, seemed to have never been injured at all, and became straight and round. Dumbledore stretched out his slender and powerful fingers, and the Elder Wand trembled excitedly in his hand. The whistling sound that just confronted the snakewood stick was made by it.

Anyone who saw this wand would not doubt its extraordinaryness. The magic power wrapped around it was terrifying. This was definitely a powerful wand that was not inferior to the snakewood stick held in Voldemort's hand. But Voldemort was stingy and didn't pay any attention to it. All his attention was focused on the face of the middle-aged man.

"Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked with difficulty.

"Forgive me... I have changed a lot, but this is indeed me."

Dumbledore turned his wrist lightly, and the Elder Wand responded eagerly. The power of the spell shot from the wand frightened Voldemort. He blocked the spell with difficulty, but the aftermath left small wounds on his body like a knife.

"This is impossible!" Voldemort shouted, and he encouraged the magic power in his body and injected them into the snakewood wand. But Dumbledore suddenly appeared in front of him, grabbed the snakewood wand with one hand, and the tip of the Elder Wand transformed into a half-blade with cold light, slashing towards Voldemort's chest.

Blood splattered.

Voldemort turned into a ball of black mist and appeared from a distance. The astonishment and shock in his eyes had not yet dissipated. It was too fast. Dumbledore's attack speed was far beyond imagination. The change was so great that it was like two different people.

No, they were originally two people!

One was old and the other was in his prime. Not many people in this era have seen Dumbledore in his prime, but Voldemort met him today. He raised his head in panic. The sky was surrounded by clouds and mist, condensing a lot of magic.

The air became sticky and pressed him from all directions. He felt like a small insect trapped in resin. Even Apparition became difficult.

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

The Fiendfyre condensed into a fire snake. This huge monster pressed hard towards Dumbledore. Dumbledore waved his wand, and the soil rippled and sank like water waves, like a dammed lake. The Fiendfyre struggled, but sank deeper and deeper, and finally disappeared completely.

Dumbledore looked at Voldemort, his blue eyes were sharp, and it seemed to mean that you can't escape this time. Voldemort was a little scared. He had never seen Dumbledore in this state, but he was unwilling to leave. He could see that this state would not last too long...

Maybe he could delay time?

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

"Avatar, eat Dumbledore!"

Voldemort tried his best. The dazzling green light converged like water, and the killing curse seemed to be a physical entity, condensing into a green-robed death wielding a scythe - this was a portrayal of Voldemort's inner heart. He claimed to have conquered death and could control death. What could better show his identity than driving the death god?

The green-robed Grim Reaper swung his sickle violently, and a pale green light burst out, illuminating the deep valley like a ghost cave. The startled birds flew halfway and fell down helplessly. All living things - trees, birds, small animals, 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 Grim Reaper's sickle seemed to be able to melt everything, and the area where the two fought continued to sink.

But it was still blocked.

The clouds in the sky were torn down and surrounded Dumbledore, undergoing a series of complex transformations. Dumbledore waved his wand, and the gorgeous clouds of fire were released like a spell, condensing into a red light, entwining the green-robed Grim Reaper and its sickle.

"You want to use this thing to deal with the Grim Reaper?" Voldemort roared, frantically injecting magic power into the wand. The tip of the wand and the green-robed Grim Reaper were connected by a green chain, providing it with a constant supply of power to help it break free.

The green light became stronger and more powerful. The clouds wrapped around the green-robed Grim Reaper sizzled, but then a burst of golden light broke out, just like the sunset glow in the sky. The golden light was imprinted on the chains formed by the clouds, forming mysterious patterns.

This was not Transfiguration—at least not entirely. It seemed that few people were aware of Dumbledore's other identity, the master of alchemy. Then Dumbledore threw all the clouds around him into it. The golden-red chains rustled and twisted as if they had life. Finally, a thread was separated from the Grim Reaper and extended to the opposite side along the magical connection between the green-robed Grim Reaper and Voldemort.

Voldemort's eyes widened, and the golden-red thread climbed up Voldemort's snakewood staff. His wrist suddenly tensed.

He lost.

He had to leave. He wanted to Apparate away, but found that he couldn't move at all. Voldemort lowered his head, his feet were entangled in the overgrown green grass, and the surging magic power and flashing magic symbols on the grass made his heart sink a little bit.

The golden and red chains formed by the fire clouds locked Voldemort, and they became tighter and tighter. The magic power in his body slowly subsided, and finally he was forced to let go, and the snakewood staff fell to the ground. Without the support of magic, the green robed death gradually dissipated.

Voldemort fell to the ground and looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore had a calm face, although it was a completely different face.

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

Dumbledore didn't speak. He stepped back a few steps and sat on a temporary chair with thin legs, looking at Voldemort tiredly. His face was gradually covered with wrinkles again, becoming wrinkled and losing its luster... In just two or three minutes, a century had passed.

Voldemort seemed to have forgotten that he was lying on the ground, and that he was defeated and captured. He watched the scene quietly.

"Is it worth it?"

"It's worth it." Dumbledore said in a very light but firm voice, "Compared with others, I am much older, more experienced, and much less valuable. Besides - I have an unshirkable responsibility for your actions, of course not all - I am not that arrogant, but it is indeed me who brought you into the magical world."

"Hypocrisy." Voldemort laughed, and then a whistle came from the distance, "Oh, someone is coming, let me guess, is it the Ministry of Magic? It's unlikely, you don't trust them; the Order of the Phoenix? Those people are vulnerable... Is it Felix Hep?"

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

After he finished speaking, the two fell into silence.

Dumbledore's eyes swept across the dilapidated valley. At this moment, this picturesque place was completely destroyed, with potholes and charred. He lowered his head and stared at the old wand, it seemed to be dead and motionless.

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

Dumbledore hesitated and said, "The Elder Wand."

For a moment, Voldemort's expression was very interesting. "I see." He said in a low voice, "I have searched for its whereabouts... but it doesn't seem to be obedient."

"It craves blood and strife, and I can't satisfy it." Dumbledore explained.

Voldemort's eyes moved away from the Elder Wand and stared at the hateful and calm old face on the chair, and said evilly, "You are doing useless work, you know, Dumbledore?"

"My point of view is exactly the opposite of yours." Dumbledore said briefly, he moved his body down to make himself more comfortable.

"Won'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've thought, if I could give you more care and less vigilance, would you still be like this?"

Voldemort was a little stunned, he sneered mercilessly: "You still say you're not naive? Dumbledore, are you going to explain to me again the most powerful force in your mind - love? When I was very young - before I met you, I realized the importance of power. It will win you awe and gain the obedience of the weak - you can't kill me, Dumbledore, I will come back. Just when we were chatting just now, I figured out something, which is related to our guest, my little friend Harry Potter..."

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

It was Felix, he landed on the ground, looked around, like a traveler who had strayed into this place. Then he walked towards the two of them, with brisk steps, and seemed to be in a very good mood.

"Felix Hep, you're here," Voldemort said hoarsely, greeting like an old friend. "We were just talking about you."

"Thank you, I'm honored." Felix said, walking around Voldemort on the ground, and pushed Voldemort, who was struggling to sit up, back down as he passed by, then walked straight to Dumbledore, looked at him carefully, and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Never been better." Dumbledore said jokingly, his eyes still on Voldemort, or to be more precise, behind him. He seemed to have found something interesting, and a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

But Voldemort understood this smile as a mockery, and his face twisted.

"Just happened to meet," Felix seemed to explain why he was here, "with Kreacher, but I didn't let him come over, he's a little emotional now."

"That's that... Oh, I see." Dumbledore blinked and whispered.

"Speaking of which, Albus--" Felix frowned subconsciously, "You look a lot older, is it an illusion? There are a few more wrinkles than the last time I counted."

"Have you counted?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Of course, those are the wrinkles on Albus Dumbledore's face. This is important information." Felix pretended to be serious. Voldemort's red eyes became evil and cold. He felt strongly humiliated by the two people's disregard for him. "

I had something else to say, but it seems unnecessary." He said in a cold tone.

"Yes, I should have thought of it earlier." Dumbledore said solemnly.

Voldemort stared at Dumbledore. Of course, he would not give up easily. Even though his magic power was bound and his snakewood stick was lost, he could at least do one thing.

He sneered and stared deeply at Dumbledore and Felix, as if he wanted to carve the faces of these two people into his soul. Then he closed his eyes and waited quietly. It won't be long before he will be reborn, because soon-

he will die.

Dumbledore and Felix looked at him without any movement. After a few seconds, Voldemort opened his eyes wide, his snake-like pupils trembling, "How - what did you - do -"

Dumbledore shook his head gently, waved his wand, and the restraints on Voldemort disappeared.

But Voldemort did not gain freedom, there was another force binding him. He lowered his head with difficulty and examined the dark green snake tail that pierced his chest. It seemed illusory and did not cause physical harm, but it was this thing that locked his soul and trapped him in this body.

A huge amount of emotions surged.

Then, Voldemort was dragged up from the ground and hung powerlessly in the air, like a disheveled Dementor who took off his turban. He struggled to raise his head and saw a hideous huge snake head approaching him, and the edges of each dark green scale were jumping with arcs of different colors.

"Guardian?"

Felix nodded at him.

The giant snake opened its bloody mouth, and the next moment Voldemort's eyes went black.

Dumbledore and Felix witnessed the giant snake swallowing Voldemort in one gulp, and swallowing its own tail in the process. It spun in the air like a kitten or puppy chasing its own tail, forming a standard Ouroboros pattern.