Voldemort kept a calm appearance on the outside, but fury burned in his red eyes as he looked at Simon. He then glanced at Harry standing behind him and sneered.

“How about you start with introducing yourself?” Voldemort asked, his voice soft yet slicing.

Simon smiled faintly, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword while standing with deceptive ease. “Simon Hawthorne. Head of the noble House of Hawthorne.”

Voldemort’s eyes flicked to one of his Death Eaters, who gave a subtle nod. Voldemort’s expression shifted into something resembling warmth as he smiled at Simon like an old friend.

“Well then,” Voldemort said smoothly, “what are you doing standing against me? I am fighting for our rights—the rights of those of noble and ancient blood, like you and me.” He shook his head slowly in a show of pity, as he shook his head.

Simon signaled Volkrin through their connection to guard Harry, then shook his head. “You and those around you are no nobles. Harry has my protection, and you will simply have to go through me to reach him.”

Voldemort’s eyes darkened, his pupils narrowing like a serpent’s. His body rose a few inches off the ground, hovering unnaturally as the temperature around them plummeted. Frost began to spread across the earth, and every breath turned into white mist. The chill radiating outward came from the Dementor’s cloak he wore, as well as the levitation.

Voldemort sighed, as if he truly were disappointed. “Another ancient house gone because of defiance to their own blood. Avada Kedavra.”

In true Voldemort fashion, he finished his sentence with the Killing Curse.

Simon swept his hand, and a surge of blue flame erupted, devouring the curse mid-air and surging toward Voldemort. The Dark Lord glided back, placing one long, pale hand before his mouth as he hissed . From his mouth, Fiendfyre burst forth, coiling into the form of a monstrous serpent. The two flames collided, roaring like beasts as heat melted the ground beneath them.

The Death Eaters recoiled, stepping back in haste as the duel escalated.

Simon’s flame soared higher, clashing with the serpent of fire that Voldemort controlled. Voldemort flicked his wand sharply, and the tombs around him groaned and split. With a surge of dark magic, they transfigured into stone statues, which lunged forward wielding spears.

Simon barely twitched his wand, and the spears disintegrated into dust mid-air.

Voldemort roared in fury, raising debris and rubble all around. The fragments swirled together, forming a massive wave of shadow that rushed at Simon. With a calm motion, Simon raised his wand and his free hand, transmuting the darkness into jagged shards of black ice, which he hurled back at Voldemort with terrifying speed.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. He swung his wand down in a violent motion, releasing a cutting wave of energy that shredded through the shards. Simon, in the same moment, unsheathed his sword, the runes glowed with magic as he swung it. From its edge, he unleashed a thunderbolt that split the air and hurtled toward Voldemort.

The Dark Lord’s eyes widened ever so slightly before narrowing again. With a snarl, he conjured iron bars around himself, both his wand and free hand shaping them at unnatural speed. Runes etched themselves into the metal as they absorbed the lightning. For a moment, it worked—until the bars shattered, unable to contain the full force of Simon’s strike.

Voldemort wasted no time. He spread his hands and summoned a storm of darkness around himself, whipping it into constructs of serpents that hissed with glowing eyes.

Simon sheathed his sword in a single, sharp motion and stepped back, his expression calm. With a gesture of his palm, he drew the shattered ice into the air, reshaping it into hundreds of daggers, which he launched toward Voldemort in a deadly storm from all sides.

The serpents of shadow coiled around their master to defend him, intercepting most of the shards. Yet a few cut through, one slashing across Voldemort’s ear and leaving a gash on his pale cheek. He staggered forward, as his back was also hit but he was protected by his cloak that was surprisingly not damaged.

Before Simon could press the attack, a thunderous roar echoed behind him. He turned just in time to glimpse Volkrin engaged in brutal combat with a Death Eater. The vampires that had fallen earlier had recovered and were now lunging at Harry, who fought desperately with Pyra spitting fire at his side.

Simon snapped his head back to Voldemort and waved both wand and hand. Runes flared across the entire battlefield, glowing faintly blue. Voldemort screamed in fury, his spells battering against Simon’s defenses, but the flames that was fighting Fiendfyre had not defeated it and was defending Simon from the spells.

“Chilleria Nocturna,” Simon intoned.

At once, mist seeped into the graveyard, swirling and thickening. The Death Eaters sensed the tide shifting and launched a barrage of spells at Simon. But they were too late. The fog crystallized mid-air, freezing into a vortex that engulfed them all.

The battlefield transformed into a storm of ice and shadow. The temperature plummeted further still, so cold that time itself seemed to crawl. Breath froze in lungs, limbs felt heavy and sluggish, and the faintest sparks of light flickered inside the vortex, flashed of spells that were absorbed into darkness.

Screams erupted within as lightning cracked through the mist. Blades of ice cut across flesh, blood spilling on the ground as the death eaters desperately tried to defend themselves. Horrid shapes moved within the ice, half-formed creatures that stalked and clawed at the trapped.

The Death Eaters cast curses wildly—Killing Curses, Blasting Hexes, Blood-Boiling Curses—but nothing pierced the storm. They could not tell which way was forward, or even where the ground was. Their eyes froze in their sockets, panic clawing at their minds.

Voldemort himself tried to levitate above it, forcing his magic into a burning storm of black fire. He roared as the flames spread, but the mist dulled his senses. He could not tell up from down. His body felt sluggish, his mind fogged, and for the first time in years, true fear twisted in his gut as even his soul felt the cold of Simon’s spell gnawing at it.

Outside the vortex, Simon stood with wand raised, his face calm, blue fire dancing around his figure as he poured his energy into the spell. Harry, Pyra, and Volkrin remained at his side, unharmed but tense. Nearby, two vampires and a Death Eater lay dead, their corpses torn apart by fire and lightning.

Simon turned his head just in time to see a black crystal slide from Harry’s pocket. It pulsed with darkness before merging into Harry’s body. Harry’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

“Harry!” Simon rushed forward, catching the boy and lowering him to the ground. His face hardened as he held him close, then turned sharply back toward the vortex.

He lifted his hand and with a decisive motion, shattered the Anti-Apparition wards surrounding the graveyard. With a crack of displaced air, Simon Apparated them all away—himself, Harry, Pyra, and Volkrin—leaving the storm and Voldemort’s screams behind.

They reappeared inside the Hawthorne mansion. Simon carried Harry in his arms, Pyra and Volkrin flanking him protectively. He summoned sharply: “Nibbin! Bring Edwina here, fast.”

He laid Harry gently on the couch, running diagnostic spells over him, his brow furrowing with each passing second.

Edwina appeared moments later, with Nibbin at her side. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, then she rushed to Harry’s side, her voice urgent. “Nibbin, bring us to Nightshade Castle.”

In a heartbeat, they were transported to the castle. Thimrill manifested in a flash of blue lightning, he just stood there and waited.

Edwina wasted no time with questions. She began chanting in Parseltongue, her wand moving in intricate patterns as she worked spells over Harry. After long moments, she paused, and turned to Thimrill.

“He needs light energy—pure and powerful.”

Thimrill nodded gravely. “I will find the Moonstreak Stag. Do not be alarmed as I transport us all to the castle lake.”

Lightning struck, and in the next moment, they stood by the shimmering waters of the lake. Thimrill flashed once more into lightning and vanished into the distance.

Within Harry, Voldemort’s shard stirred. The black crystal had fused into his body, caused by the parasite of soul lodged inside him. Now Harry’s soul fought fiercely, light against dark.

Simon explained everything to Edwina and Sirius, who arrived soon after with Nibbin. Sirius knelt at Harry’s side, his eyes wild with desperation. “Will… will he be okay?” he asked, turning to Edwina.

Edwina met his gaze with steady certainty. “He will. I only need time. And if the Moonstreak Stag arrives, it will not be long at all.”

As if on cue, the lake shimmered. A streak of pure light burst across its surface, followed by a streak of thunder. The Moonstreak Stag emerged, with Thimrill by its side.

The stag walked forward gracefully. Edwina placed her hand gently on its head. “Would you give me some of your energy?” she asked softly.

The stag lowered its antlers. They glowed brilliantly as light poured into Edwina. She placed her free hand on Harry’s forehead.

A shriek pierced the night—not Harry’s, but Voldemort’s fragment burning away. The parasite was purged, its strength purified and absorbed into Harry’s own soul.

Far away, in the graveyard he had barely escaped, Voldemort staggered, clutching at his chest as pain wracked his form. His teeth clenched, fury twisting his face.

A/n: I rushed the ending, its still a big chapter today, 1600 words…

Imma need 1600 power stones now… gimme.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep