Chapter 119. Voldemort in a Sorry State
"Merlin's beard!" Quirinus Quirrell exclaimed in a low voice.
He was weak now, and handling two Poison-Horn Beasts at once would be just a tad difficult.
But if he gave up on that Unicorn and retreated at this moment, Lord Voldemort would not spare him either.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Quirrell sighed to himself, brandished his wand, and fired spell after spell.
Yet the power seemed lacking.
Falling on the Poison-Horn Beasts' thick hides, the spells barely scratched the skin at most.
Instead, they provoked the beasts' fury.
Their presence intensified, and they charged at Quirrell like a speeding train.
At this critical moment, Voldemort spoke.
"Quirrell, give me control of the body."
"Yes, Master."
Quirrell did not hesitate in the slightest.
He decisively removed his hood, revealing the uneven face on the back of his head.
After entering the forest, Voldemort had not felt at ease letting Quirrell act alone, so he had ordered Quirrell to take off the turban, allowing him to sense the surroundings.
"Poison-Horn Beasts?
Yet again two magical creatures suddenly appear!"
"Duncan Scamander—it must be you.
You dare to hinder me again and again.
You deserve death!"
Voldemort's eyes burned with fury as he looked at the Poison-Horn Beasts, and he raised his wand.
Just as he spoke the incantation, a whistle sounded from behind the tree to the right.
The two Poison-Horn Beasts, upon hearing it, swiftly changed course, turned nimbly, and dodged that fearsome spell.
"Found you!" Voldemort said darkly.
He no longer cared about the beasts.
His wand moved, and the tree on the right burst into flame.
A moment later, the tree turned to ash and, stirred by a breeze, drifted to all sides—yet the revealed space held no one.
"Invisible, is it?" Voldemort frowned.
"If you think you can trick me with such petty games, you're sorely mistaken."
Confidently, Voldemort lifted his wand—
but before the words of the spell were out, there came a whoosh from above.
It sounded like something was plummeting.
Voldemort dared not delay.
He changed his spell instantly and cast upward.
But an unexpected scene unfolded.
The spell was deflected, and a statue, sword in hand, brought its blade down hard at him.
"Damn it!" Voldemort's face changed.
He rolled awkwardly across the ground, avoiding the blow by a hair's breadth.
Meanwhile, from a concealed perch, Duncan raised his wand high.
Clouds gradually swallowed the forest canopy, and the stars vanished.
After Voldemort evaded the swordsman statue's strikes a few times, he began to adapt and was about to counterattack when he sensed something amiss.
On the gale blowing in his face, there seemed to be a trace of magic.
Voldemort's expression grew overcast.
He shifted his gaze warily, scanning all around for anything out of place.
"Master…" Quirrell, seeing Voldemort's delay, asked softly.
But before he could finish, a deafening roar rolled from above.
A thick bolt of lightning, branched like tree limbs, fell straight from the sky.
It was like the sword of judgement in a god's hand, cleaving down to smite the evil aberration on the ground.
"Shut up!" Voldemort snapped.
Even he felt things had taken a turn for the worse.
He raised his wand and, like an orchestra conductor, swept it in a measured rhythm.
A silver shield rose before him.
Clang.
The lightning from on high struck the shield like a sword against iron, blasting out a metallic crash.
The body under Voldemort's control could not bear the immense force.
He was pressed to bend slowly, and the silver shield quivered.
Voldemort's eyes flashed with anger.
His lips thinned.
His face was iron-blue.
He could hardly believe he had been made so wretched by someone who only dared hide in the dark.
To be suppressed by a first-year student?
It was an intolerable humiliation!
All because this body was too feeble!
So fumed Voldemort.
He poured more magic into the shield, which steadied again and began to expand.
The lightning poured onto the silver shield and splashed aside.
Silvery branches and leaves quivered wildly, lashing elsewhere—terrible and, in their way, breathtaking.
Under Voldemort's guidance, some of the lightning's tendrils crept toward the Unicorn that had been trapped.
The Unicorn struggled desperately.
Watching the lightning draw near, its eyes filled with despair.
But at the last moment, two little fellows burst from the ground at its hooves.
An Earth-Digging Ferret and a Niffler frantically clawed at the soil, digging with all their might.
Once the Unicorn could move a little, two weed-like ropes flew in from not far away, wrapped around the Unicorn, and yanked it from the spot.
The Earth-Digging Ferret and the Niffler dove headfirst into the tunnel they had just dug and bolted away in an instant.
A second later, the lightning smashed into the ground, blasting open a deep pit—yet no one was hurt.
Voldemort let out a roar of fury.
While resisting the unending lightning from the sky, he swept the area with his gaze.
In Voldemort's mind there was only one thought now: find the rat skulking in the shadows—and kill him in the cruelest way possible.
At the same time, on the other side, behind a great boulder, Duncan stood straight with his wand raised, pondering the very same question.
After a brief thought, Duncan's eyes hardened with resolve.
He would seize this rare chance and finish Quirrell off.
Since Voldemort already bore murderous intent toward him, he would show no mercy.
Duncan lifted his wand higher.
The lightning fell faster, as if the end of the world were about to descend.
"Damn it!" Voldemort cursed inwardly.
From the suddenly ferocious barrage, he felt Duncan's killing intent.
But he had not even located Duncan's position.
He could only stand there like a living target and take the beating.
"You leave me no choice…" Voldemort glared with bloodshot eyes and moved Quirrell's other hand.
"Master!" Quirrell cried, terrified.
He felt his body failing rapidly, as if he were about to die.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine," Voldemort said in a low voice.
"But if we don't do this, we both die here."
As Voldemort's movements grew faster and harder, crystalline frost blossomed at his feet and raced outward.
Plants along the way were sheathed in ice at a speed visible to the naked eye, becoming sculptures in an instant.
Then a breeze passed.
The plants, as if struck by a vast force, crazed with fine cracks and fell away with a clatter.
"What magic is that?"
Seeing a scene beyond what he had imagined, Duncan immediately called the swordsman statue back.
Voldemort was worthy of his reputation as the most powerful Dark wizard in many people's eyes.
Even while splitting his focus to defend, he could unleash such a spell.
Watching the swiftly advancing frost, Duncan hesitated for a moment.
He doubted he could stop it.
He lowered his wand, intending to withdraw.
Just then, a shining golden long arrow flew from afar and pierced the massed dark clouds above.
Rumble—rumble—
The clouds seemed provoked.
The lightning no longer heeded Duncan's control.
"Dumbledore?" Voldemort looked to the sky, muttering coldly.
His gaze then shifted, uncertain, toward where Duncan was.
He had already sensed something unusual there.
"Damn it.
Consider yourself lucky this time…" Voldemort said icily, turning to flee at speed.
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