On the other hand, Voldemort was furious and in rage. And in his rage, he jabbed his wand with such force it was as if he were trying to pierce the air.
Four grayish, smoky and hazy, tendril-like structures formed around his wand and raced toward Antonio. These tendrils were not as fast as his previous spell, but clearly more dangerous.
The moment they appeared, they began to emit a feeling of dread and horror. Antonio and the spectators alike could feel that there was something ominous and frightening about these tendrils. Something evil.
Antonio did not hesitate to respond. He wove his wand, and a rotating, red coloured, one foot long spring-like spiral erupted from it.
The spell sped toward the incoming tendrils and swallowed them within the boundaries of its spiral. For a moment, it looked as if nothing would happen and the tendrils would emerge from the other end of the spiral unscathed and unaffected.
But then, in an astonishing feat that shocked and stunned every spectator, the spiral tightened and coiled, binding the tendrils within itself. There was a brief struggle, a stalemate, but the spiral ultimately overpowered the tendrils, snapping them into pieces before both the tendrils and the spiral vanished.
"You would need to do more," Antonio said in a provocative and obviously insulting manner. "Dark Lord."
This only fueled Voldemort's rage. After the humiliation of being pushed onto his back foot, every spell of his that Antonio survived was a further mockery of his abilities.
And Antonio Olario was not only surviving, but he was countering him with superior magic and standing tall and then mocking the Dark Lord. The words he had just spoken were yet another added insult.
With even greater fury, Voldemort slashed his wand diagonally. A beam of pure magic erupted from it, racing toward Antonio. Voldemort did not stop there. He continued to slash his wand in the same swift and fluid motion, sending several, more than half a dozen, consecutive beams surging forward.
Antonio moved with a high degree of precision. He slashed his wand, sending his own magical beams to counter several of the incoming strikes while letting the rest pass harmlessly close to his body. These beams struck the wooden tables and chairs, reducing them to rubble with a loud boom. Even the sturdy stones of the floor trembled and cracked upon impact, showcasing the sheer power with which Voldemort was firing these spells.
But Voldemort was not done yet. These beams were not his main assault. Antonio had shown enough power to make it obvious that such magical bursts were barely a threat to him. He would surely counter with ease.
These beams had been cast as a mere distraction, likely in the hope of diverting Antonio's attention just enough to catch him a little bit unprepared when the main spell arrived. In a duel this intense, fractions and margins were all that was needed to deal damage to the opponent.
Even before Antonio had countered the last beam, Voldemort was already moving. This time, it was not a simple jab or slash. He was weaving his wand in a peculiar pattern, indicating that he was casting a truly complex spell.
While he was weaving his spell, from the corner of his eyes, Voldemort caught the aggressive stance Minerva had taken from the corner of his eye. Just before his casting was complete, he saw Edmund's spell slice the head from one of his Death Eaters.
To the spectators, the two duels were happening simultaneously, yet they felt worlds apart. For the average wizard or witch, the clash between Minerva and the Death Eaters had been spectacular. Their spells were powerful and their casting speed admirable.
However, compared to the duel between Antonio and Voldemort, that fight seemed weak in scale. The onlookers were barely able to keep up with the speed and intensity at which Antonio and the Dark Lord were fighting. In the time it took for the others to exchange two or three simple spells, Antonio and Voldemort had traded half a dozen and these spells had been a lot more powerful.
Although this did not divert his attention from his magic, and he neither spoke nor showed any emotion on his face, he was raging inwardly. He was getting more livid and more angry.
It was not as if he had not accounted for his men being killed when planning this attack, but he had not expected one of them to fall so soon, and certainly not at the hands of Edmund Bones, even if the man had done so from behind the cover of Minerva McGonagall.
By the time Antonio was finished dealing with the magical beams, Voldemort had completed his spell. As soon as he was done, the atmosphere inside the Wizengamot shifted instantly. It was as if the temperature inside the hall had begun to rise continuously. The chill inside the Winzengamot hall was replaced by a scorching heat.
In mere moments, the spectators standing in the front rows of the visitor's gallery began to sweat from the intensity, and they instinctively stepped back.
Then it happened. At four points behind Voldemort, two on either side, it felt as if the space itself were being torn apart. The air and the space split apart, and from the rifts emerged four objects.
They were like blazing stones, each almost two feet in diameter, with cracks running along their surfaces. Pulsing through these cracks was a dark red, molten substance, and each object was further shrouded in a blazing fire.
The appearance of these meteoric rocks caused the temperature inside the Wizengamot to increase even further, the spectators feeling the intense heat radiating from them.
The entire Wizengamot had come to a halt. Even the duel between Minerva, Edmund, and the Death Eaters ground to a sudden stop. Minerva's jaw was clenched as she wondered if she herself could produce magic of such scale. But the bigger question remained.Would Antonio be able to defend himself against this spell?
She also wondered if she should rush for Antonio's help. Her eyes remained focused on Antonio's face searching for an answer.
Antonio, having finished with the beams, stood facing the meteors directly. His brows were furrowed and his body was tense. He could feel the sheer power behind the spell, and he knew he would have to perform extraordinarily well to deal with the incoming attack.
With that thought in mind, he tightened his grip on his wand and resolve took over his face.
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