"Who are you?!"
Voldemort's enraged roar, like a storm of wind, thunder, and lightning, burst forth from the mind-spark, amplified by immense magic.
It was an upgraded version of the 'Sonorus' charm, seemingly laced with the rhythm of the Imperius Curse, aimed directly at a wizard's mind.
Its effect was terrifyingly potent.
Lockhart once discussed with his dear student Tom the possibilities of combat magic in the realm of sound, and Voldemort's spell now offered the most perfect answer to their earlier musings. It was truly captivating to the soul.
The only issue was that Lockhart's mind was protected by a Patronus, and Tom, at that moment, possessed magic as formidable as Voldemort's, rendering him entirely immune to such "petty tricks."
Tom's reaction was undoubtedly more decisive than Voldemort's, who was still raging and demanding answers. He instantly grasped the situation: this person before him was undeniably his future self, the dark wizard who instilled such terror throughout the wizarding world that none dared speak his name.
He had been momentarily flustered, for no one understood better than he how terrifying his future self would be after accumulating such vast experience. But as soon as he caught the wand Lockhart tossed to him, and the somewhat unfamiliar yet immensely powerful magic within him obeyed his will, his panic transformed into resolute killing intent. He immediately turned to attack the hand Voldemort had extended from the mind-spark.
With a flick of his wand, a terrifying flame, seemingly capable of incinerating everything, surged forth, clinging to his serpentine tail, heading straight for that hand.
Fiendfyre!
Such exquisite and precise control allowed the Fiendfyre to appear as if it emanated directly from his tail, without harming him in the slightest!
"Hmph!" Voldemort sneered. The Fiendfyre rushing towards him instantly sprouted fiery serpents, which surprisingly turned their heads and lunged at Tom.
The flames roared, incinerating Tom into ash in an instant.
The ashes danced and dispersed in the wind carried by the flames, only to rapidly coalesce again nearby.
"The Flying Charm?" Voldemort was momentarily stunned, finally realizing with certainty that this person with a serpentine tail was indeed himself. He roared in fury, "Gilderoy! I demand an explanation!"
As he cursed, his voice, like waves from a distant shore, came crashing over them, sound upon sound, as if he were approaching at an incredible speed.
The Flying Charm!
Old Voldy was traversing the confines of time and space, using his connection with young Tom as an anchor, forcefully attempting to tear through the barriers and appear before them!
Lockhart could no longer simply spectate. The unique and wondrous fairy tale book he possessed from the Carroll family, while formidable, wasn't indestructible.
At least, it couldn't withstand Voldemort's magical attacks.
A magical creation, after all, had its limits.
It wouldn't do for it to be damaged.
Well then...
A change of scenery!
He raised his wand, pointing it at the swirling vortex of time and space around them. Using his own memories as an anchor, he cast the Apparition spell, hurtling rapidly along the timeline.
Compared to his previous adventure through Bella's memories, this time he was following his own, and could manage, albeit barely, without the aid of a time-turner.
The only problem was, he had to prevent Old Voldy and Young Tom from making a complete mess of his memories.
Hmm, if that truly happened, there would be no recourse; he would mess with Voldemort's past, and Voldemort would mess with his.
This was undoubtedly an incredibly risky endeavor.
Lockhart, however, was entirely unafraid of risks; he merely felt a thrill begin to rise within him.
And so, dragging Tom along, he rapidly Apparated, hurtling back into the past, with Voldemort in relentless pursuit.
Bang!
The Apparition reached its destination.
Lockhart and Tom appeared on an island beside a vast ocean. Soon, a bandaged arm tore through the celestial curtain, descending from the sky towards them.
A terrifying aura swept over them, as a wide black wizard's robe and bandages billowed.
Voldemort slowly floated down, his gaze fixed on the disturbingly familiar Tom Riddle. Upon seeing the serpentine tail below Tom's waist, pulsating with powerful life force, his eyes grew grave.
"Gil-de-roy Lock-hart!" Old Voldy practically snarled the name, his gaze like a knife, sweeping towards Lockhart. "I have never yearned to kill someone so desperately!"
"Heheheh~" Lockhart let out a hearty laugh, gracefully holding his wand aloft, giving it a slight flick. "Come, try me!"
That tone!
That demeanor!
That suddenly familiar magical characteristic!
Old Voldy and Young Tom were suddenly struck by a shiver of dread, staring in disbelief at the man who clearly bore Lockhart's appearance, yet suddenly felt—this was him!
Yes!
At this moment, Lockhart was also Voldemort!
A truly fascinating and subtle state of affairs.
The battlefield Lockhart had chosen for Old Voldy and Young Tom was precisely the period in his own memory when he had captured Corban Yaxley and brought Madam Marie into the past to retrieve memories (Chapter 154).
In this peculiar span of time, he had become Tom, and Tom had become him.
He had once asked Corban, who had sought him out to swear allegiance, a question: "When my body is Riddle's, my magic is Riddle's, my bloodline is Riddle's, even my brain, my thoughts, every single bubble that pops into my mind, all belong to Riddle. Corban, tell me, am I not Riddle?"
A transformation more complex, more profound, and more deeply unsettling than Polyjuice Potion, affecting not just the body but also the very mind.
Even more intriguing was that Lockhart at this moment had fused with a portion of Tom's Patronus power, creating that chilling sensation of "this is also me," which utterly unnerved both Old Voldy and Young Tom.
It was the disquieting feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing one's reflection move independently.
A creeping sensation involuntarily spread through their minds.
"You're all going to die!"
Young Tom was the first to succumb to this unsettling feeling, roaring in anger, waving his wand. He suddenly crouched down, thrusting his wand into the ground. "Avada Kedavra!"
A emerald green magical aura, like a torrent of water, surged outwards from him in all directions. Amplified by immense magical power, this area-of-effect Killing Curse resembled a tide of death erupting from the very depths of hell.
"Hmph!" Voldemort sneered. The space around his body rapidly warped. The emerald sea of light surged forward, but twisted and bypassed his form, spiraling upwards like a whirlwind.
His past, still-immature self using the Killing Curse against him?
Ridiculous!
His current understanding of death, his grasp of the journey of life, and his profound self-awareness were simply incomparable to his younger self; there was far too great a difference!
On the other side, Lockhart stood there, beaming, as a mass of black fur continuously climbed and intertwined from the ground, constructing a low wall that repelled the power of the Killing Curse.
Boggarts, seemingly with immense weaknesses, were not at all afraid of the Killing Curse; for them, it was even less effective than a simple Knockback Jinx.
Lockhart and Old Voldy were not ones to simply take a beating without retaliating. While defending, they swiftly waved their wands, launching quick counter-attacks.
The difference was, Old Voldy cursed Lockhart fiercely, yet directed his spell towards Young Tom, starting with a Killing Curse.
It was unclear whether he knew his attacks on Lockhart would be ineffective, or if he simply wished to eliminate Tom, who threatened his unique existence.
Unlike the diffused power of a widespread Killing Curse, the Killing Curse he cast resembled plasma, carrying a terrifying, life-sapping pallor, no longer displaying the characteristic green glow of the curse.
The immense energy contained within it was enough to make one feel as if they were suffocating just by looking at it.
Lockhart, meanwhile, seized the opportunity to attack Old Voldy. His offensive methods never prioritized destructive power, but rather leaned towards "finding solutions by targeting characteristics." He cast the Human-Transfiguring Charm, aiming directly at Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf Voldemort was possessing.
Just then, Old Voldy subtly raised his left hand, and a silver shield materialized before him, precisely blocking the spell.
This shield possessed a dreadful adhesive quality; upon impact, Lockhart immediately felt compelled to continue unleashing his attack upon the shield, forcefully increasing his magical output.
A stalemate, drawing the enemy into a magical power struggle, and then crushing them with superior magic.
This was Voldemort's strategy against Lockhart.
Lockhart had long anticipated this tactic; he had suffered from it before, in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, where he was caught in a power struggle and unable to break free, only managing to escape by pleading for the forest's aid and summoning the Lady Automobile to disrupt the standoff.
He rapidly waved his wand, as if dancing, touching and retreating, then swiftly conjuring dark clouds and lightning.
Magic: Thunderstorm and Mountain Fire!
Boom!
Boom!
Two bolts of lightning, from different angles, struck down towards Voldemort. He moved swiftly, Apparating to evade Young Tom's sudden sneak attack.
Boom!
He waved his wand, directing lightning to attack both of them. After the lightning struck, Fiendfyre erupted, and monstrous, snake-like fiery creatures emerged from it, lunging at Voldemort.
His strategy remained unchanged: use the fiery serpents to distract Voldemort, and somehow manage to strike Old Voldy with lightning.
In his recent research on Animagi, he had discovered that one of the most crucial steps, "waiting for a thunderstorm," was essentially leveraging the magical ritualistic power of lightning for the resurgence of life.
He hoped to use this to stimulate the resurgence of Fenrir Greyback's self-will, causing it to clash with Voldemort's possessing will.
Although Young Tom's combat experience was not as extensive as Old Voldy's, he was incredibly astute at grasping the flow of the battle. Upon realizing that Lockhart was only attacking Voldemort, he chose to cease attacking Lockhart and focused his efforts on Voldemort instead.
Consequently, Old Voldy's pressure surged, and he actually began to falter.
"Good! Good! Good!!!" he roared in fury. "Then you shall all die!"
His body violently trembled, flickering like a faulty television signal. Tom and Lockhart's magical attacks passed harmlessly through his ethereal form.
Voldemort's body began to rapidly expand, his bandages and wizard's robes tearing apart. Black wolf fur billowed in the wind, and sharp claws emerged.
A werewolf!
The wizarding world generally looked down upon werewolves. While they feared the infection of lycanthropy, dealing with these creatures, which could only attack with claws and teeth, wasn't particularly difficult—at least, it was easier than fighting dragons.
But that depended on who was wielding the power.
The unique magical bloodline of lycanthropy manifested in an entirely different way in Voldemort's hands.
A dark green, virulent substance, like mist, wafted from his body, rapidly spreading behind him, transforming into a colossal werewolf phantom that blotted out the sky, its crimson eyes gazing down upon the earth.
And Old Voldy himself, after rapidly transforming into a three-meter-tall werewolf, changed once more. His golden fur bristled with a uniquely platinum-gold sheen, and he was encircled by the dark green, venomous mist.
Magical resistance, a property once absent from Lockhart's understanding, appeared before him for the first time in such a tangible form.
Lightning, Fiendfyre, control spells, offensive spells, even the Killing Curse—all striking the werewolf had no effect, other than to enrage it, making it roar and become even more savage.
"Awooooo~~~"
The werewolf roared, and the colossal, venomous phantom behind it, like the Fenrir wolf devouring the sun, instantly absorbed all the lightning-streaked storm clouds in the sky, radiating a terrifying aura.
It was an intrinsic, oppressive weight.
This oppressive weight affected the body, manifesting as a suppression of vital activity, born from the core effect of the Killing Curse fused with a multitude of other spells. It caused Tom and Lockhart to stumble, falling to the ground, their faces pale, their skin turning red as if they might explode at any moment under the pressure.
This oppressive weight simultaneously affected the mind. Every unbearable burden from their lives, all their memories of such things, clamored wildly in their minds, dismantling their self-will.
"Ah~~~"
Tom let out a guttural scream of pain, and suddenly his entire being exploded, seemingly about to be utterly destroyed by this attack.
Yes, Old Voldy's spell was aimed precisely at Tom; he knew his younger self's greatest weakness all too well and understood what methods would defeat him.
Fortunately, Lockhart intervened just in time.
"Legilimency!"
"Fire of Life!"
He rapidly waved his wand towards Tom, "Human-Transfiguring Charm!"
Three powerful spells in a row: one taught by Grindelwald, one learned from Voldemort's magical notes, and one acquired during his own magical adventures, all cast swiftly and with precise timing.
In an instant, Tom, who had exploded into a viscous splatter, began to re-coalesce, but halfway through, he cast a spell to break free from Lockhart's guidance, rapidly transforming.
Finally, Tom fully reformed, but he had transformed into an enormous Basilisk. Its massive form coiled, gazing coldly down at Voldemort, flicking its tongue. "You're old. I am the future!"
"You are merely the past, a past that exists only in memory!" Voldemort sneered, his massive wolf jaws opening and closing. "If not for this nauseating creature who plays with memories and time, you would forever remain a phantom, a powerless, illusory dream!"
With that, both the wolf and the Basilisk turned their heads simultaneously, looking down at Lockhart, who appeared like an ant in their eyes.
Their colossal forms blotted out the sky's light, casting vast, overlapping shadows upon Lockhart.
Lockhart looked up at the two of them, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Well, isn't this fun?"
"!!!"
"!!!"