The moment she turned, Midgard froze in place.
No new enemies appeared. Instead, a group of battered statues were crawling toward them on broken limbs.
These were clearly the same statues Midgard had smashed to pieces! As they dragged themselves closer, the shattered fragments scattered across the ground began to stir. The stones moved like living creatures, gathering toward the crawling figures and quickly forming into complete statues once again.
The statues were regenerating.
The headless statue even caught the stone head Midgard had thrown earlier and neatly reattached it to its neck as if nothing had happened.
"This is definitely not that simple," Midgard muttered, drawing her wand as she watched the assembled statues brandish their stone swords. "Don't tell me these things are immune to regular magic too?"
"You can try," Leonard said calmly. "I suspect it's highly likely."
Watching the statues restore themselves so quickly, Leonard instinctively thought of the new ancient magic he had mastered—the one capable of reducing his enemies to ashes in an instant. It was perfectly suited to deal with foes that could rapidly recover.
He relaxed. If this was something he could handle easily, there was no need to rush in. Studying these stone constructs a bit longer might even prove useful.
Midgard glanced at him. As someone who had fought beside Leonard through more than a few life-and-death situations, she immediately recognized his confidence.
"You've got a plan, don't you?"
"Of course. So go ahead and test a few things," Leonard replied.
"Good." Midgard eased up as well. Watching the statues approach, she mused, "I doubt they're immune to basic magic. They can already repair themselves—if they were magic-proof on top of that, it'd just be ridiculous."
She raised her wand and launched a blazing fireball.
The Confringo curse. Midgard had used it countless times—she was skilled enough to cast it silently now.
The unstable ball of flame struck the leading statue and erupted, the blast bouncing violently between the figures. Within seconds, thick smoke filled the air.
When the dust cleared, the statues stood unharmed, closing in step by step.
"Seriously? They even resist spells now?" Midgard rolled her eyes. "Fine, your turn. Show me that new power of yours."
"Not yet. I want to try another spell first," Leonard said, raising his wand. "Step back a bit."
"Oh? Something strong?" Midgard took two steps back, watching him expectantly.
"Pestis Incendium."
Leonard spoke softly. A wave of heat surged from his feet as a flame—orange-yellow tinged with black—crawled upward around his body.
"Damn it! Fiendfyre?" Midgard cursed, her tone sharp with alarm. "Hey, Leonard, be careful! Don't burn this whole place down!"
The Fiendfyre Curse didn't discriminate. If unleashed recklessly, it could easily consume the ruins—and possibly take Hogwarts with it.
Leonard didn't respond. Controlling Fiendfyre was never easy. Even with his precision over magical flow, he couldn't guarantee perfect command over a complete form of the curse.
But that was exactly what he intended to summon—the full Fiendfyre.
Flames coiled up his body, their searing heat distorting the air around him, yet his clothes remained untouched. As the fire climbed higher, the elongated strands formed scales, glinting with an eerie light. When the flames reached his shoulders, they condensed into a fierce serpent's head.
A massive Fiendfyre serpent wrapped around Leonard, roaring at the statues before them.
"You've got some nerve," Midgard muttered, watching Leonard stand side by side with the living flame. "I doubt even the creator of the Fiendfyre Curse imagined it being cast like that."
Leonard stayed silent until he fully stabilized the flames, then said calmly, "Doing it this way helps me control the magic flow and reduces the risk of it going out of control."
"If it does go out of control, you won't even have a chance to be saved," Midgard protested. "This is way too dangerous."
"It won't," Leonard replied. "I don't gamble with my life. The moment I sense it slipping, I'll dispel it immediately. I trust myself that much."
He had reason to be confident. The Fiendfyre Curse was brute-force magic in its purest form—an embodiment of "overwhelming power solves everything."
But this time, when casting it, Leonard had altered the spell's magical flow, refining the parts that were usually dangerously unstable.
Although that adjustment made the curse harder to control, it also improved its stability and safety. Between a failed spell and one that killed its caster, the choice was obvious.
Leonard's ability to modify the Fiendfyre Curse came from the Ancient Sprout Magical Sight. Without that enhanced perception, it would have taken him decades—if not centuries—to make such refinements.
Still, casting the curse was only the first step. Stability was one thing, but he also needed to test whether his method of instantly dispelling it after use actually worked.
...
Normally, Leonard avoided testing Fiendfyre—too dangerous in the Forbidden Forest, and too risky in the Room of Requirement. But now, finally, he had a chance.
As the statues advanced, Leonard raised his wand and commanded, "Go!"
The Fiendfyre serpent lunged forward, instantly engulfing one of the statues.
"Will that even work?" Midgard asked. "Aren't these statues immune to magic?"
"Guess we'll find out," Leonard replied lightly.
While the statues were said to resist magic, such constructs relied on the overwhelming force of ancient enchantments to suppress ordinary spells. It wasn't the same as Leonard's magical plants, which absorbed magic.
Still, Fiendfyre and his plants shared something in common: both devoured magical energy to create even greater destruction.
Maybe that very trait would let Fiendfyre counter ancient magic.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the fiery serpent suddenly swelled, its body expanding as if it had consumed a powerful tonic. It grew two or three meters longer, and a second head sprouted beside the first.
A streak of silver light traced down its head and along its sinuous body.
It had devoured not only the statue, but the ancient magic inside it.
Leonard's eyes narrowed. Whether it was an illusion or not, he could feel a subtle shift in his control over the Fiendfyre serpent—not weaker, not stronger, but something… different.
...
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