"Stun him! Don't let him escape!"
Voldemort's furious roar echoed through the graveyard as a multitude of crimson flashes shot through the air.
They were all Stunning Spells.
But Harry didn't get hit by a single one as he sprinted toward the Triwizard Cup, his Portkey.
This was a complete miscalculation on Voldemort's part.
It should have been a battle he was guaranteed to win.
With Harry captured and surrounded by Death Eaters, escape should have been utterly impossible.
But a miracle occurred.
The duel he had initiated to teach Harry his powerlessness in the end was the very thing that had turned the tables.
Considering the difference in their skills, there should have been no chance of Harry winning.
It was supposed to be a public execution disguised as a duel.
The plan was simple: corner the fleeing Harry and kill him.
However, the courage Harry displayed in the face of death had exceeded Voldemort's calculations.
Surrounded by an unbeatable enemy in an inescapable situation, Harry had chosen to fight and die in his final moments.
Not to be hunted down while running, but to die fighting bravely like his father until the very end.
That noble, resolute courage was what summoned the miracle.
Harry and Voldemort's wands were brother wands, both containing a tail feather from the same phoenix.
When the two of them forced the wands to fight, a rare phenomenon that should never have occurred took place.
It was Priori Incantatem, a reverse spell effect—a wand malfunction that only happens when brother wands battle.
Voldemort's wand began to 'replay' all the spells it had previously cast in reverse order—namely, the Killing Curse. One by one, the people he had murdered appeared as ghosts.
A Muggle man he had no connection to... a Ministry of Magic official, Bertha Jorkins... and Harry's parents.
They lunged at Voldemort, opening a path for Harry.
"Move! I'll kill him myself! He is mine!"
Voldemort shook off the ghosts, brandished his wand, and chased after Harry.
Letting him escape now would be disastrous. If Harry got away, Dumbledore would learn of his return.
There was no more time for games. He had to kill Harry, and quickly!
With that thought, Voldemort took aim at Harry and began to chant a spell.
But his impatience made his aim unsteady, and the spell couldn't find its mark.
Finally, Harry touched the Portkey and vanished from the graveyard.
"...Damn it!"
He had escaped.
Voldemort couldn't follow; wherever Harry had gone, he would surely run into Dumbledore.
All he could do now was hope that Crouch Jr., who would be on the other side, could successfully capture Harry.
As Voldemort seethed with frustration, he heard a mocking laugh, which only served to deepen the rage coloring his face.
"Who is it!? Who just laughed at me!?"
When Voldemort was in a foul mood, he would cast the Killing Curse for a reason as simple as that.
What made him so terrifying was that even his most loyal Death Eaters could become the target of his wrath.
To Voldemort, any life other than his own was worthless, and he felt no hesitation in taking one. That was another reason he was so feared.
Tossing the spark of mockery at a bomb on the verge of detonation would inevitably cause it to explode. With a speed that was almost reflexive, he fired the Killing Curse.
Normally, whoever was hit would have died on the spot.
But his target showed no fear.
Instead, they caught the Killing Curse and crushed it in their hand.
"Wha...! Y-You are...!"
"Quite a greeting... Voldemort."
It was a girl who shone like gold.
She was older and even more beautiful than when he had seen her four years ago.
Her golden hair shimmered fantastically under the light of the full moon.
She wore her robes draped over her shoulders without putting her arms through the sleeves, and her golden eyes were filled with absolute self-confidence.
Voldemort remembered her. It was impossible to forget.
He could never forget the little girl who had humiliated him almost as much as Harry Potter.
"It has been a while, Dark Lord. Surely you remember me?" the girl asked as she crushed the 'death' in her hand.
Her expression was just as defiant as it had been four years ago—no, it was beyond defiant, it was insolent. The sight easily brought back the fury of that day.
Voldemort gritted his teeth and, his face contorted with rage, spoke the girl's name.
"Mirabelle... Beresford...!"
Wand held at the ready, Voldemort watched the girl, who was now sitting on a tombstone.
What did she just do? She 'crushed' the Killing Curse?
Impossible. It couldn't be.
That was the ultimate spell, one that stole life on contact. Death should have been certain the moment it touched her.
Crushing it should be impossible.
"What did you do...?"
"Heehee... Are you curious? Is it so baffling that the magic of death you place so much faith in had no effect?"
"Answer me! What did you do, Beresford!"
Before Voldemort's enraged shout, which would make any ordinary wizard tremble, the girl simply maintained her eerie smile.
She watched the flustered Dark Lord as if he were an amusing spectacle.
"My Lord, leave this to us! A little girl like her is not worth your trouble!"
Seeing Voldemort frozen before the unsettling and mysterious Mirabelle, one of the Death Eaters stepped forward and pointed his wand.
He fired a flash of green light—an attack on Mirabelle! At the same moment, she vanished from sight.
Apparition? No.
It was simply high-speed movement!
She had moved at a speed beyond human perception, circling behind the Death Eater in an instant.
"...Eh?"
"Too slow. It's making me yawn."
By the time he turned, it was too late.
His carotid artery was sliced open, hood and all, and blood gushed out like a fountain.
Mirabelle bared her fangs and swiftly sank them into the neck gushing with fresh blood.
"W-What...!"
Before Voldemort's stunned eyes, the Death Eater's body shriveled.
His arms withered like dead branches, and the life drained from his face.
Gulp, gulp. The only sound was that of blood being swallowed. No one else could utter a word.
When the 'meal', which had lasted only a few seconds, was over, the man who had been a Death Eater had lost his original form completely, having turned into a mummy.
"You're next."
She tossed aside the used-up husk and spoke to Voldemort.
Seeing this, Voldemort understood. He understood what she had become.
I see... so that's it! This brat is no longer human!
"So that's it... a vampire! One of that cursed clan of the night!
You! You've abandoned your humanity, haven't you!?"
"Indeed. Just like you, I too have stepped onto the path of immortality."
Voldemort clicked his tongue and looked up at the night sky.
This is bad. It's a full moon tonight.
Normally, she wouldn't be much of a threat, but even the great Dark Lord was wary of a vampire on the night of a full moon.
On this night alone, they wielded power incomparable to their usual state.
"However, to choose such an imperfect method...
I was aware of the method to become a vampire. But it is flawed, a far cry from true immortality.
That is why I did not choose it.
To rely on such a thing speaks volumes of your caliber."
"Oh?"
"An unstable immortality, riddled with weaknesses to sunlight, running water, crosses, silver weapons, and garlic.
The great Lord Voldemort is not one to fear such a thing!"
Voldemort roared and swung his wand.
Something like molten silver appeared in the air and transformed into several spears.
Silver weapons, one of the weaknesses of a vampire.
They flew toward Mirabelle all at once, and she met them head-on.
With a swing of her arm, golden lightning flashed, striking down all the weapons coming from the front.
But, as if waiting for that moment, one spear circled around behind her and pierced her side as she tried to dodge.
"The flank... an impressive dodge, but that wound will not heal for some time."
"...Hehehehe..."
To Voldemort's triumphant declaration, Mirabelle responded with a scornful laugh.
She then pulled out the spear as if nothing had happened, and the wound that should have been there had already vanished.
Voldemort's eyes widened at the sight of her, completely unfazed despite having been wounded by a silver weapon, her supposed weakness.
"And? What was that child's play supposed to be, Dark Lord?"
"Impossible...!"
He couldn't hide his shock at the girl who had regenerated not only her flesh but even her torn clothes.
Mirabelle watched him with amusement as green flashes of light began to gather in both her hands.
She was planning to use magic without even holding a wand.
"! Wandless magic...!"
"Heehee... A wand is nothing more than 'training wheels' for humans unskilled in magic.
For me, who has transcended humanity, such a toy is no longer necessary!"
She fired a non-verbal Killing Curse from her right hand!
Voldemort instinctively jumped to the side, but a second blast followed as if anticipating his move!
Voldemort, however, rolled quickly on the ground, avoiding death.
But a third shot was fired, targeting the moment he tried to stand up. Voldemort evaded the attack by disappearing from the spot.
Immediately after, feeling a surge of magic behind her, Mirabelle spun around.
"Useless!"
She deflected the red flash coming from behind with a single sweep of her arm and instantly closed the distance to Voldemort.
She then swung her arm down with all her might. The force of the blow shattered a tombstone and caved in the ground.
Overwhelming, brute-force power capable of rivaling even a giant. The current Mirabelle possessed it.
"Hmph, you're quite good at dodging."
"You little brat...!"
Voldemort, seething with anger, swung his wand.
A shining blade of light appeared at the tip and slashed at Mirabelle.
But it didn't connect. Mirabelle dodged the attack by leaning back and countered with a swipe of her claws.
He blocked the attack with his blade of light and slashed back! But Mirabelle parried it and swung her claws, aiming to tear Voldemort apart.
Blade and claws clashed over and over, sending out high-pitched shrieks and sparks.
Mirabelle slashed, Voldemort sliced.
One, the Dark Lord; the other, the Golden Tyrant.
The two wizards, both belonging to the side of 'evil', engaged in a fierce battle against the backdrop of the full moon.
"I'm surprised, Voldemort. I didn't know you were skilled in hand-to-hand combat!"
"Do not... underestimate the Dark Lord!"
At a glance, the fight seemed even, but Mirabelle had the advantage.
In fact, in close-quarters combat, Voldemort had no chance of winning at all.
Not only was there a huge difference in their physical abilities, but the durability of their bodies was on another level.
Unlike Mirabelle, who could regenerate in an instant unless killed outright, Voldemort's body was still that of a human.
If he took even a single direct hit from Mirabelle's attack, his body would shatter like brittle glass.
He must have understood that.
Voldemort Disapparated, creating distance between himself and Mirabelle.
At the same time, the Death Eaters, who had been unable to act, raised their wands, but Mirabelle clicked her tongue at the sight.
"You insects! Stay out of my way!"
A casually fired Killing Curse struck down one of the Death Eaters.
She then instantly closed the distance to Wormtail and seized his head.
"...Eh?"
"—Die."
She crushed the head of the wide-eyed, terrified Wormtail as if it were an empty can.
Blood, brain matter, and skull fragments splattered everywhere. The man who was Wormtail was reduced to a bloody mess from the neck up.
She tossed aside the headless corpse and glanced at the Death Eaters with annoyance.
But then, as if struck by a sudden idea, her beautiful face twisted into a wicked smile.
"Hmph, as if Death Eaters who have been soaking in lukewarm water for so long could ever defeat Mirabelle.
But rejoice. I shall provide special dance partners for you as well."
Mirabelle raised her arm to the empty air and released her magic.
A beautiful yet malevolent golden glow filled the entire graveyard, amplified by the moonlight.
Simultaneously, a rumbling came from deep within the earth. The presence of 'something' trying to claw its way out.
"O ye dead who sleep in this land, I, Mirabelle, the King of the Dead, command you!
Deny the law of God and return once more to the world of the living!
Hate life, resent the living, and turn that hatred upon all that breathes!"
With Mirabelle's declaration, all the tombstones shattered, and the ground swelled.
And then they appeared—a horde of ghastly dead.
Some with their bones partially exposed, some with their flesh raw and skinless, some even dragging their own entrails.
What they all shared in their eyes was a craving for life, a jealousy of the living.
Therefore, they could not stop themselves from attacking the living before them. They could not resist sinking their teeth into that fresh meat!
These were not the doll-like Inferi created by existing magic, but true undead who attacked the living of their own free will. That is what Mirabelle had summoned.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! There, Death Eaters, are they not the most fitting opponents for you?
Unlike your self-proclaimed titles, these are true 'Death Eaters' who have devoured 'death' and risen from it.
Go on, let them devour you and become true Death Eaters yourselves!"
The horde of the dead mercilessly swarmed the Death Eaters, who were too stunned by the surreal scene to even raise their wands.
They frantically fired Killing Curses and Stunning Spells, but to no effect.
Of course. They were a horde of the dead... therefore, neither 'death' nor 'unconsciousness' existed for them.
"A-Aaaaaah!?"
"Hiiieeee! M-Monsters!?"
"My Lord! H-Help... Gyaaaaa!!"
It was a massacre.
The wizards who, as Death Eaters, had terrorized so many people were now being trampled without any means of resistance.
A eaten Death Eater becomes a new undead, and a wizard bitten by that undead becomes yet another.
A cycle of death that multiplied without end.
Due to this threat, the number of Death Eaters had already been cut by nearly half.
"Stop it! Stop! They are my servants! Do not turn them into your ghouls!"
Voldemort swung his wand, mowing down the undead.
This is where it begins again. The legend of the Dark Lord starts here.
And these are the servants who have gathered for me once more; they are necessary for my future plans!
I will not let their numbers be reduced any further!
"All of you, Apparate and retreat from here! Lord Voldemort will deal with Beresford!"
He stood like a guardian deity, protecting the fleeing Death Eaters.
He cut down all the undead that tried to pursue them, creating an escape route.
Seeing this, Mirabelle murmured "Oh?" in an impressed tone and clapped her hands.
"As expected of the Dark Lord. It seems any number of undead are no match for you.
But you were a little late to help, weren't you? Your precious little minions have been considerably thinned out, you know?"
"You... wreeeetch...!"
Voldemort's face twisted with unparalleled fury, but he was still underestimating her.
The malice of the girl named Mirabelle was far from over.
She chuckled, making no attempt to hide her glee, and savored the Dark Lord's rage.
This was Mirabelle, a natural-born evil.
Once her malice was unleashed, she would descend to the depths of depravity, transforming into an avatar of wickedness.
And to make matters worse, the more she was that way, the stronger she became. Her power would rise without limit.
The full moon, the graveyard, and the release of her malice.
With these three conditions met, Mirabelle was now unstoppably strong, and brutally cruel.
"I will not forgive you, Beresford! I will not grant you a simple death!"
"Oh? Then show me how you will not forgive me."
Mirabelle slid through the air, closing in.
Simultaneously, Voldemort vanished from his spot and reappeared at a distance.
With a single sweep of his wand, countless flames appeared in the void and rushed toward Mirabelle.
But as Mirabelle raised her arm, the ground swelled up by about ten meters, deflecting every single fiery projectile.
"Fool. Do you think such petty tricks will work on me!?"
Mirabelle clenched her fist, gathering her magic.
Then, release! From all five of her outstretched fingers, red flashes of light were unleashed, flying toward Voldemort.
It was a simultaneous release of magic, using each of her fingers as a wand.
A human could achieve something similar by holding multiple wands, but what was terrifying about her was that she did it without any.
The five beams of light clashed with the defensive shield Voldemort had deployed, but they forcibly pushed through it.
However, Voldemort had already moved behind Mirabelle again and fired a green flash of light from his wand.
"Die, Beresford!"
"Useless!"
She deflected the flash of death hurtling toward her with a sweep of her arm and immediately went on the counterattack.
She fired multiple flashes from her fingertips, assaulting Voldemort, but the Dark Lord was not so easily defeated.
With a flick of his wand, he drew the undead toward him, using them as a shield to block her attacks.
But Mirabelle's assault wasn't over.
As she raised her arm, a pillar of golden fire rose behind her, eventually taking the form of a dragon.
It was the 'Fiendfyre of Evil Spirits', with a massive body and nine heads.
In response, Voldemort also raised his wand, and a pillar of green fire erupted behind him.
The pillar of fire soon became a writhing body, materializing as a serpent of blazing flames.
"Devour it all!"
"Meet it head-on!"
The golden nine-headed hydra and the green serpent. The two flames clashed, devouring each other.
Against this backdrop, Mirabelle and Voldemort exchanged magic even more fiercely, and countless flashes of light crisscrossed the graveyard.
Mirabelle fired, Voldemort dodged.
Voldemort fired, Mirabelle deflected.
Fire, water, wind, lightning, ice, light, and darkness.
The Killing Curse, Stunning Spell, Disarming Charm, Petrification Curse, Severing Charm, Blasting Curse.
Every spell imaginable was sent to kill the other, but not once did a decisive blow land.
The ground was gouged out, tombstones were shattered, and the undead caught in the crossfire were pulverized. Even as the entire graveyard was turned into a barren wasteland, the fight did not stop.
The consummate evil wizard and the self-righteous witch who had surpassed all limits continued their fight to the death, disregarding all collateral damage.
But even this seemingly even battle was approaching its end.
"It seems you're running out of breath. What's wrong, have you reached your limit?"
"...!"
Unlike Mirabelle, who boasted near-infinite stamina, Voldemort's body was still that of a human.
Inevitably, as the fight wore on, he would become winded, and his movements would become sluggish.
What's more, tonight was a full moon. The current Mirabelle possessed not only near-infinite stamina but magic as well.
As long as the moonlight shone, Mirabelle's magic would continue to recover, never running dry.
Clearly, this battle was disadvantageous for Voldemort.
"In the end, you are only human, Voldemort. A half-baked being that failed to evolve.
Can a proto-human defeat a human? To me, you are nothing but an ape, Voldemort!"
And at last, Mirabelle's magic caught Voldemort in its venomous fangs.
"Die, Voldemort!"
"!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
From her palm—no, from all ten of her fingers—ten green flashes of light were unleashed. A ten-part concerto of 'death'.
It engulfed Voldemort and sent him flying.
The worst curse in the wizarding world, which grants a swift 'death' without leaving a single scratch on the target.
But the Dark Lord, who had been bathed in it, immediately got back up and glared at Mirabelle with his crimson eyes.
"...Hmph... I see, so I can't be defeated after all.
I suppose I must admit that you, more than anyone, have delved deep into the path of immortality."
Mirabelle snorted, looking displeased, and crossed her arms.
That last attack should have sent Voldemort's soul to hell.
But something that remained on the mortal plane had held it back, pulling his soul back.
Like the north and south poles of a magnet attracting each other, 'something' that drew Voldemort's will... 'Horcruxes' existed in this world.
Even if his soul were to be erased, as long as those 'Horcruxes' existed, this man's 'will' would remain.
Unless they were destroyed, this man would never truly die.
She had thought that with her current power, she might be able to ignore them and kill him by force, but as expected of someone who had made so many Horcruxes.
At this point, it was safe to say their battle had reached a stalemate.
Mirabelle had no way to kill Voldemort, and Voldemort could not kill Mirabelle.
Even if his body were pulverized, Voldemort would survive, and even if her body were blown to smithereens, Mirabelle would instantly regenerate.
Because they had both entered the path of immortality, neither held a decisive blow against the other.
"So, it seems I cannot dispose of you without first destroying the secret to your immortality..."
Well, I pretty much expected this, Mirabelle thought.
She had come here to test the extent of this man's immortality, and it seemed it was impossible to kill him while ignoring the Horcruxes.
The Horcruxes and Harry's blood. That combination was quite troublesome.
But she had originally come here to test this new body anyway.
And she had managed to significantly reduce the number of annoying Death Eaters.
Then there was no reason to stay here any longer.
"Likewise, though it vexes me to admit it... it seems I have no chance of victory as things stand," Voldemort thought.
He couldn't win as he was now.
He wouldn't lose either. With his mastery of immortality, he could not be killed.
But that would just be a repeat of his defeat at Harry's hands thirteen years ago.
There was a risk that his newly regenerated body would be destroyed.
And above all, the current Voldemort had no means of defeating Mirabelle.
Against this queen of the night who would instantly regenerate unless killed in a single blow, Voldemort simply, brutally, lacked the firepower.
An overwhelming offensive power that could erase every last cell... that was essential to fight this woman!
"It can't be helped. I'll deal with you later. First, I shall take control of the wizarding world."
"That sounds wise. I shall spare you this time."
It was far quicker and easier to dominate the currently corrupt wizarding world than to defeat the opponent before them.
That was the conclusion they both reached.
They would first seize all power, establish a strategic advantage, strip their opponent of all their pawns, and then eliminate them.
It was a roundabout way, but it was probably the optimal solution.
"We will settle this one day, Voldemort. With my dominion over the wizarding world, and your death."
"Very well. I will show you which of us is worthy of being the true monarch."
They both wore defiant smiles, not considering for a moment that they might lose.
I will not lose. I cannot lose.
Because I am the ruler, the one worthy of controlling everything.
I will be the one to win. Therefore, perish, submit, and rot away pathetically.
With unrelenting malice, they sheathed their fangs for now, enduring for the sake of a future victory.
They burned the image of the enemy they must defeat into their retinas, and then vanished from the spot.
The conclusion to this battle would come one day—when one of them had taken control of the wizarding world.
***
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