Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Because he only briefly fought Voldemort in front of everyone in his true form, he unlocked quite a few new achievements.

In this way, he wouldn't need to beat Voldemort to death directly.

Instead of using entrapment tactics, we could treat Xiao Fuzi as a machine for racking up achievements.

The wand in Dee's hand crackled with electricity once more, preparing to unleash a fatal blow.

This body still needs to be dealt with.

The translucent walls of the water prison trembled slightly as Voldemort struggled, while Dumbledore maintained his control gesture, the blue light flowing from his fingertips firmly locking the spherical water prison in place.

Just as the situation was gradually settling down, a piercing, teeth-grinding scream suddenly rang out from the direction of the rubble pile on the west side of Azkaban Island, breaking the brief stagnation on the battlefield.

"Shameless bastards! You cowards, how dare you use sneak attacks against our great master! You'll stop at nothing to win, you've disgraced the wizards!" The voice was shrill and sharp, like rusty iron scraping against rough stone, each syllable filled with extreme anger and madness, making the eardrums of everyone present ache.

The Thunder Knights, who were on high alert, immediately turned their gaze to the source of the sound and saw a gaunt woman perched atop a dark boulder more than two people tall.

That was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her once meticulously styled long hair was now tangled into dirty knots, covered with dark red mud and small pebbles. A few stray strands clung to her sweaty forehead. There were several deep, bone-revealing cuts on her forehead and left cheek. Dark red blood flowed down her sunken cheekbones, congealed into scabs on her chin, and dripped down with her excited movements, spreading dark marks on her neck.

She had clearly exerted all her strength to climb the boulder; her slender figure swayed precariously in the night wind, yet she still kept her back straight.

Even in such a wretched state, Bellatrix's eyes shone with an astonishing light, burning with a fanatical loyalty and a deep-seated hatred. She stared intently at Voldemort, who was trapped in the water prison, and roared fiercely in the direction of Dumbledore and Dylan: "You think you can defeat the Dark Lord like this? What a pipe dream! He is immortal, destined to rule the entire wizarding world! Your actions today will only bring the cruelest retribution!"

The Aurors had already received orders not to show any mercy to any remaining Death Eaters. Seeing that Bellatrix showed no fear and was still shouting wildly, several Aurors immediately raised their wands in unison, pointing the tips at the figure on top of the boulder.

They knew very well that Bellatrix had stolen a wand from the guards of Azkaban before they even landed on the island, and leaving her unattended now could lead to a sudden attack that would cause trouble for Dumbledore and Dylan.

"Move! Control her!" a leading Auror shouted, and began chanting a spell, "Quickly fall asleep!"

The other Aurors responded in kind, and several beams of light shot out from the tips of their wands, flying towards Bellatrix like meteors. These spells were designed to be cunning and sealed off any possibility of her dodging.

Bellatrix showed no fear, but instead wore a maniacal smile. She opened her arms as if to embrace the incoming spells, still roaring, "The Dark Lord will not fall! He will lead us to sweep away all obstacles and build a new world! You scum who hinder this great cause will be utterly crushed!"

Before she could finish speaking, several beams of light struck her body.

Bellatrix's shouting stopped abruptly, her body seemingly struck by an invisible force, and she fell backward, rolling down the rough surface of the boulder.

Her body slammed against the protruding rock with a dull thud, eventually falling into the shadows beneath the boulder.

Immediately afterward, a commotion arose from beneath the boulder, with the sounds of tables and chairs clattering and a few suppressed curses. Clearly, there were still many Death Eaters and Azkaban prisoners hiding there, who had been concealed until Bellatrix was hit and exposed.

Just as the Aurormen were about to turn towards the area below the boulder to wipe out the remaining enemies, Dylan in the center of the battlefield had already received Dumbledore's instructions. He took a deep breath, and the silver-blue electric light around his wand, which had been subdued, surged again. This time, the light was more condensed than before, and arcs of electricity danced and jumped around him, crackling and illuminating his face.

Without the slightest hesitation, Dylan pressed his wrist down sharply and clearly chanted the incantation. With his movement, the silver-blue sparks that had been scattered after being defeated by Voldemort suddenly gathered in the air. They were no longer in the form of a fiery phoenix, but instead condensed into a huge electric spear. The spearhead flashed with a blinding light and, with a sharp whistling sound that tore through the air, it swooped down toward Voldemort, who was imprisoned in the water prison.

Dumbledore noticed Dylan's movement and immediately increased the force of his right hand. The blue light on the surface of the water prison became more intense, and the seawater inside churned more violently, forming whirlpools that suppressed Voldemort's resistance and created the best opportunity for Dylan's attack.

The lightning spear pierced the wall of the water prison instantly. There was no earth-shattering collision sound; instead, it pierced directly through the translucent water layer and accurately struck Voldemort in the center of the water prison. The next second, a violent explosion rang out. Silver-blue lightning and surging seawater intertwined violently, instantly turning into a sky full of white steam that rapidly spread outwards from the water prison, enveloping the entire battlefield in a hazy mist.

The ominous, dark green light that had been permeating the air vanished completely the moment the steam spread, leaving only the hissing sound of flowing steam in the world.

Outside the fog, the Muggle leaders and ordinary wizards who were watching looked at each other, their faces filled with confusion and doubt.

They stared nervously at the billowing white steam, wondering what was happening inside, and could only vaguely make out two blurry figures standing within it.

As the steam dissipated, the blue light of the water prison disappeared, leaving only a wet patch of ground. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.

The steam was still slowly dissipating, and the air around the battlefield still carried the damp scent of electricity and seawater.

Meanwhile, the Aurors on the other side of the battlefield also gathered around, looking at the gradually clearing battlefield with a hint of uncertainty on their faces.

Nymphadora Tonks frowned, her gaze sweeping across the open space: "Is this battle... really over? The mysterious man... has he been completely eliminated?"

Sevich shrugged, his tone certain: "I think so."

All traces left by Voldemort have disappeared, and the Azkaban prison, which had been twisted and deformed by Voldemort's dark magic, has also been restored.

However, the prison was already dilapidated due to Voldemort's ravages. Now, after being forcibly restored to its original state, the cracks on the walls became even denser, and the supporting structure completely collapsed. With a loud crash, the entire prison collapsed, turning into a ruin filled with rubble and dust. The dust that rose up made the people around cough.

"Be careful, everyone!"

"The mysterious man has always been cunning; no one can guarantee that he hasn't left a backup plan!"

"Act now! Take control of all the remaining prisoners and Death Eaters, investigate them one by one, and don't overlook any potential threats!"

In the center of the battlefield, Dylan stared at the spot where Voldemort had vanished. Had Voldemort left?

He didn't put Voldemort into his spatial storage just now.

After all, there are so many people here.

Besides, he doesn't need another Voldemort who's been beaten to a pulp.

As for whether he actually left or not.

Dylan smiled.

He has recently made a lot of progress in his research on the soul.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, the hidden danger that Dylan and Dumbledore had anticipated had not disappeared. Voldemort had not left Azkaban at all. He used the ancient war magic of the "Dark Mark" to forcibly suppress his remnant soul and infiltrate the body of the Death Eater Antonin Dolokhov.

To avoid being detected, he even used shapeshifting magic to swap appearances with an inconspicuous prisoner beside him. That originally sinister face now became ordinary and unremarkable, blending into the crowd unnoticed. He even made a fake wand that looked exactly like Dolohoff's original wand, holding it in his hand and deliberately feigning weakness to lower the Aurors' guard.

Voldemort lurked among the crowd, head bowed, pretending to straighten his tattered robes, but his peripheral vision was fixed on Dylan and Dumbledore in the center of the battlefield.

at this time,

Dylan appeared above everyone's heads.

A wave of his arm.

The magic falls.

Voldemort could clearly feel a warm and pure energy flowing into his body. His body, which had been damaged in the previous battle, was recovering rapidly, and his fatigue was gradually subsiding. Even the remaining dark magic energy in his body became much more stable. He had not experienced that feeling of vitality for a long time.

What a damn hypocrite!
Voldemort sneered incessantly, as if to say, "Does he want to show others how merciful he is?"

Hmph, wait till I kill Dylan with my own hands, then let's see if you can still put on that compassionate act!
Just then, Dylan and Dumbledore landed.

Voldemort's heart pounded faster, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes. He gripped the True Wand tighter, feeling the surge of magical energy at his fingertips.

The surrounding crowd gradually regained their vitality thanks to Dylan's healing, and their hushed conversations provided perfect cover for his infiltration.

Voldemort lowered his breath, staring intently at Dylan's footsteps, waiting for the moment to deliver the fatal blow.

He was confident that as long as he didn't get close to Dumbledore, even if the latter had keen senses, he might not be able to see through his disguise.

At this moment, all he needs to do is be patient and wait for Dylan to lower his guard and step into his pre-set attack range, then he can deliver a fatal blow.

However, just as Dylan was a few steps away from him, the boy suddenly stopped moving. Voldemort's heart sank as he saw Dylan raise his wand and flip his wrist.

Throughout Voldemort's long career in the Dark Arts, he had witnessed countless spell-casting gestures from wizards, but Dylan's actions at this moment left him completely bewildered. He had no memory of any matching spell, which meant that Dylan was about to cast a new spell.

A strong sense of unease gripped his heart instantly, and he was about to launch a surprise attack.

However, the next moment, his body went limp.

This feeling of weakness did not come from his body, but from the depths of his soul. It was as if an invisible hand was draining the last bit of energy from his body. He looked around and saw that the figures, ruins, and sky around him were all distorted into broken light and shadow, with chaotic colors intertwined and rotating without any pattern.

He felt as if he were in the center of a rapidly spinning vortex, unable to find his balance no matter what he did, as if he were being torn apart by this chaotic force.

Barty Crouch, the elder, keenly captured that fleeting moment of spiritual shift.

"Buzz!"

A roaring sound rang in Voldemort's ears. This sound did not come from the outside world, but echoed directly in the depths of his soul, piercing into his already riddled soul, and tearing it madly along the lines of his soul.

"what--!"

Unable to endure the extreme pain any longer, Voldemort let out a piercing howl, a sound unlike a human voice, more like the lament of a wild beast in dire straits. Its penetrating power instantly drowned out the prisoners' groans and echoed throughout the entire island of Azkaban.

When he tore his soul apart to create the Horcrux back then, he also suffered the excruciating pain of his soul being torn apart, but compared to this moment, it was nothing. The pain he felt now was an all-encompassing, indiscriminate crushing. His mind was filled with boundless pain and chaos, making it impossible for him to think. He had even lost the strength to maintain his disguise.

What terrified him most was not the unbearable pain, but a bizarre discovery—he could clearly feel Tom Riddle's energy fluctuations emanating from within his own body! How could this be?!

All the Aurors' attention was drawn; they stopped what they were doing and looked towards the source of the sound, only to be met with a chilling sight—

Among the crowd, an ordinary-looking prisoner—Voldemort in disguise through transfiguration—began to convulse violently. His limbs twisted and trembled uncontrollably, the movements becoming increasingly violent, as if something was struggling wildly inside him, trying to break free. Then, a thick plume of black smoke erupted from his seven orifices and pores, rapidly spreading and condensing into a swirling black mist around him.

The black mist was eerie; upon solidifying, it revealed a bizarre face. The right side retained the outline of Tom Riddle—deep-set eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a sharply defined jaw. Originally handsome, it was now violently contorted by extreme pain; his brow was taut, his eyes ripped upwards, and the corners of his mouth were forcibly pulled towards his ears, revealing gleaming white teeth. The狰狞 ​​(zhengning, meaning ferocious or hideous) expression completely obscured his original features, creating a strange echo with the snake-like face on his left. (End of Chapter)