Voldemort couldn't help feeling a little flustered.

Even if there is one more wound, it will not cause any harm to him. There are no organs or blood vessels in his body. It is not fatal and has no impact. The only problem is that it is a bit ugly.

But it's just a few holes, which is much cuter than the form of the body transformed by black magic.

But, the meaning is different.

In his imagination, it shouldn't be like this. Facing Harry alone, he should win easily, even if he is as cunning as a mouse, and he won't need to waste much time.

But he was injured.

Could he really be his natural enemy? The one in the prophecy?

He really didn't want to think or doubt like this.

But the few rare failures in my life, time and time again, were all because of this Potter.

Magic is the power of the mind.

His hesitation was reflected in his magic.

Inside the cage, the white aura that represented him began to become less firm, swaying, and began to retreat under the golden aura that represented Harry.

This is the vein of magic.

Not only could Harry see clearly, but the strong physical fitness given to him by the witcher also allowed him to easily capture any loopholes in the veins that appeared in an instant.

This is shown in combat.

That is, Voldemort was shocked to find that when he had just a little doubt in his mind, he was more vulnerable to Harry's attack.

It's obviously the same offensive as before.

I even used more magic power.

But all of a sudden, all of this lost its effect.

Bai Shuang was closer to Harry, almost entangled with him, but just a little bit short, she could not catch up with Harry's body.

So is magic.

Every time, it's just the right offset.

Harry took brisk steps, twirling the sword in his hand, again and again, tearing through Voldemort's defense, leaving a hole or a hideous scar on his body.

The white frost was violent and the green light was diffuse.

The violent wind swept through the entire cage.

But Harry was like a dancer, walking in the gaps in the wind. With a flick of his wand, the Transfiguration spells intertwined and hit the white frost. In the blink of an eye, he was swallowed by the white frost, stirring up a huge cloud of dust.

And in the misty dust, the sword suddenly swung and pierced Voldemort's lower abdomen.

His stomach was almost bursting with anger.

Voldemort gritted his teeth.

No, we can't go on like this.

None of Harry's attacks were fatal, but after so many of them piled up together, he finally felt weak.

That kind of...

Weakness coming from the depths of the soul.

He gripped his wand tightly and looked at Harry, staring at the slightly raised vein in his temple.

Everything started to change with those two bottles of potion.

Maybe he really has figured out something amazing.

and……

Voldemort tilted his head slightly and looked outside the cage. Half of the Wild Hunt Knights had been killed, but no reinforcements arrived - those who were still fighting to the death were all the ones he had branded with the Dark Mark.

The situation is not in your favor.

This can't go on any longer.

Voldemort raised his wand and cast a spell towards the top of the cell.

Powerful magic power poured over.

There was a loud bang and a huge explosion.

The cage was blown open, but in an instant, the deformed creatures that were blown open suddenly twisted.

Voldemort's premonition was correct.

Harry and Dumbledore did tamper with the bars of the cell.

The lions opened their bloody mouths and rushed towards Voldemort to bite. He used magic to force them back without hesitation. It was like flame meeting gunpowder, and with a bang, it exploded violently in the rapid expansion.

One explosion after another, Voldemort was dizzy.

Harry seized the opportunity, moved closer, and swung his sword at his right arm.

Tearing flesh and breaking bones with ease.

Voldemort did not fight back. He continued to cast spells, flew out of the gap in the cell, and fled quickly into the distance.

escape?

Harry was stunned. He didn't expect that Voldemort would make such a choice when the situation was not completely in his favor.

After failing again and again, has he stopped believing in himself?

A wave of the magic wand.

The prison cell twisted and changed, turning into a giant steel python that chased him.

In the Awakening Palace.

Snape stared at the tiny shadow of Voldemort, frowning.

But he didn't hesitate for long.

He waved his wand, and the windowsill in front of him twisted and opened up. Black smoke rose up around him, dragging him into the air and flying towards Voldemort.

Sixteen years ago, he was too scared to do that.

Is this going to be the same as it was sixteen years ago?

While flying, he chanted a spell and aimed it at his left arm.

He had been thinking about how to solve it, and had prepared himself mentally long ago. He had even trained privately many times, and was now extremely skilled.

One last spell.

The sharp sword is invisible.

An invisible blade emerged from the wand, almost as sharp as time and words. It cut it off easily, and it fell to the ground with the rain.

Snape thought for a moment, then floated it up and held it in his hand.

He wanted to return this thing to Voldemort himself.

Whether it's this arm or the Dark Mark on it.

Voldemort had noticed this place a long time ago, and even before they met, he knew who that person was.

That magic was all too familiar.

It is a magic that he researched himself, which is powerful enough to support wizards to fly.

There weren't many Death Eaters who could use it.

Not even Crouch.

Only one person.

Black light and white light meet.

Voldemort had to stop and utter a name: "Severus Snape."

Snape also stopped and looked at him in silence.

"You betrayed me." Voldemort said calmly, but without hesitation.

He did not summon Snape.

At this moment, he appeared here, and he could not think of anything else except this possibility.

"Severus, I trust you so much."

"But you chose Dumbledore and Potter. What did they promise you?"

Voldemort's eyes looked inexplicably sad.

Snape shook his head and said softly: "I did not choose Albus or Potter, I just chose myself."

"Choose yourself?" Voldemort exclaimed, "Then you should not betray me."

He paused and said, "Even if you betray me, you shouldn't be with Potter and Dumbledore."

"Why?"

Snape spoke, his voice weak but firm and powerful, carrying the weight of life: "Because of love."

like?

Voldemort was stunned and became uncontrollably angry.

This word again!

This ridiculous reason again!

Ever since his first failure, he has been repeating this word to Lily, Dumbledore, Potter, and Grindelwald.

"Because of love!"

What is love? It's not even a spell!

Or rather...

Does this thing really exist?

Voldemort stared at Snape with twisted eyes.

But why, time and time again, I hear such ridiculous things from their mouths.

Even Snape said so now.