Ancient Wizards Return to Hogwarts...

Chapter 413 The Bloodborne Curse of Slytherin

"Huff...hah—huff...hah—" Voldemort collapsed painfully into a bush, panting heavily.

His survival instinct compelled him to breathe in as much fresh air as possible, but this did not alleviate his physical pain.

The penetrating wound in his chest nearly destroyed his heart and lungs; he was still alive entirely thanks to the Horcruxes and the Divine Remains. The former prevented his soul from being completely annihilated, while the latter sustained his physical existence and resisted the erosion of the power of the Rice Domain.

Blood gushed from the gaping hole in Voldemort's chest. As the blood drained away, Voldemort felt his body grow colder and his consciousness begin to fade.

He knew his condition was extremely bad and he should act immediately. But in order to escape the World Cup finals, Voldemort had exhausted every last bit of strength in his body, and now he couldn't even move a finger.

Gradually, Voldemort lost consciousness.

After an unknown amount of time, Voldemort awoke again, feeling as if every vein in his body was on fire. The good news was that his mobility had been restored.

Voldemort immediately looked down at his chest and found that the hole left by the mysterious powerful man was still there, but thankfully the bleeding had stopped.

"Wait a minute!" Voldemort realized something was wrong: Where was the blood-red spear? Why had it disappeared? How had he survived the severe blood loss? Was it the Horcrux?

A barrage of questions was too much of a mental drain for a man critically injured and near death. Voldemort simply stopped thinking about them. He staggered to his feet, took a few steps forward, found a large tree, and lay down against its trunk.

He started with a spell... Voldemort raised his hand halfway before realizing that he had already left his wand in the stadium.

I need white succinate!

Upon discovering his wand was missing, Voldemort's first thought was white cinnabar, but unfortunately he didn't carry this excellent healing potion with him—he hadn't even considered that he might be injured.

Could that domain help me? Desperate, Voldemort finally remembered his domain. But when he tried to invoke its power, he suffered a violent backlash.

Voldemort's blood instantly boiled. Overwhelmed by the surge of adrenaline, Voldemort's vision went black, and the berserk state of his blood directly suppressed the power of his domain.

Now Voldemort understood where the crimson spear had gone—it had burrowed into his body and replaced his blood.

Voldemort immediately realized the gravity of the situation: the mysterious powerful being had left his power within him, constantly interfering with his existence. He tried casting a simple spell without a staff, but the spell, which had always been a breeze, now failed.

Voldemort panicked immediately.

His most prized asset in the magical world, the foundation upon which he made his living, was shaken.

With magic at his side, he was the fearsome Dark Lord Voldemort; without magic, he was nothing.

Oh, he could be Tom Riddle, an out-of-school boy who grew up in an orphanage. But Voldemort would rather die than bear the identity of "Tom Riddle" again.

"Calm down, calm down, it's not a big problem, there must be a solution..." Voldemort told himself to stay calm, while a layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

After several attempts, Voldemort despaired: he had completely lost his magical abilities.

However, that's not entirely accurate, because the fact that he's still alive is itself a magical power. Otherwise, a person with a hole in their chest wouldn't be able to jump around and worry about losing their current status.

The spear, imbued with Rhys's domain power, now entered Voldemort's body through the wound in his chest, replacing his original blood. This blood, imbued with the domain's power, completely suppressed Voldemort's magic, blocking its flow and rendering him unable to cast spells.

As for the power of the divine remains, it was also suppressed by Rice's domain power.

Only the power of time can save Voldemort. His only way out is to completely erode the power of the domain left behind by Rhys through the divine power emanating from the remains of the deity.

Other powerful beings in other fields can also help accelerate this process, but it will bring Voldemort immense pain—it's equivalent to directly using his physical body as a battlefield for the clash of fields.

This is the Bloodborne Curse originating from Salazar Slytherin, a brilliant idea that Rice came up with after he grew to loathe Voldemort to the extreme.

After sitting still for a long time, Voldemort gradually regained his mobility.

He stood up from under the tree, a throbbing pain still shooting through his veins from time to time, but Voldemort had adapted to his new physical state. What was this pain compared to losing his magic?

"A wand! I need a wand!" Voldemort's demand changed from white wine to a wand.

People become exceptionally motivated when they have a goal, and Voldemort was no exception. He had no other thoughts at the moment but to get a wand and see how much of his magical ability he had left.

It's impossible to cast spells without a staff, but casting spells with a staff might still work.

Having figured it out, Voldemort immediately took action, his thin figure gradually disappearing into the night.

……

Boom! Boom!

Several explosions were heard inside the library.

The place, which was once filled with bookshelves and desks, is now just a ruin.

Astoria was buried under a pile of shards of wood, appearing to be unconscious. The remaining three were not in much better shape: Hermione was huddled far away in a corner, her left arm hanging limply at her side. She had dislocated her arm in a previous explosion.

Cedric's body was covered in a layer of yellow soil, and a native who looked exactly like him stood beside him. Daphne's upper robe was gone, and both of her fists were covered in lava.

Aries isn't doing too well either; these little guys are quite capable and have caused her a lot of trouble.

But she was ultimately a powerful wizard with her own domain, and in this long battle, she had the last laugh.

"Release the domain and let me out. I acknowledge your strength." Although she had the upper hand, Aries was still a little anxious: she seemed to have wasted too much time, which was very detrimental to her subsequent plans, so she hoped to end the battle as soon as possible.

"That little girl's condition might get very serious if she doesn't get treatment soon," Aries said, pointing to Astoria under the wood shards. The magical items on this little girl and another silver-haired girl were very powerful, but fortunately, Aries was more skilled and managed to severely injure her after running out of the item's uses.

She was very strong, but unfortunately, she was the only one present without a domain, and therefore the weakest.

Hermione sighed: There is still a gap between their strength and that of a true domain wizard.

There's nothing we can do about that.

"Daphne, use that." Hermione winked at Daphne, who immediately understood and crushed the amethyst brooch.

A powerful force surged forth instantly.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Here's the second update. I'm going to get back to writing now. Goodnight everyone!

(End of this chapter)