Charles had still been thinking about what kind of excuse he could come up with to spar with Voldemort—but to his surprise, Voldemort was the one who brought it up first.
Judging by his tone and expression, Voldemort clearly intended to demonstrate the power of Dark Magic before gradually tempting Charles to step into the abyss. Just like Quirrell—now reduced to his servant.
Charles, however, felt no fear toward Voldemort's challenge. No matter how powerful the Dark Lord once was, using Quirrell's frail body, he could never reach his original strength.
Based on Charles's own estimation, Voldemort's true level would be around Level 70, enough to stand on equal footing with Dumbledore. If not for Dumbledore wielding the Elder Wand, Voldemort might never have been defeated at all.
But Quirinus Quirrell himself was not a particularly strong wizard. His own level probably barely reached Level 40. Even with Voldemort possessing and controlling him—enhancing his magic and mastery over Dark spells—he could, at best, reach Level 55.
That seemed roughly comparable to Charles's current level… except one crucial factor.
Charles had the Rainbow Wand—a weapon far beyond ordinary magic.It not only amplified his spell power but also accelerated his recovery rate. And besides that, Charles possessed multiple unique traits, physical prowess, and even Pokémon skills.
In truth, the gap between the two of them was still quite significant.
Voldemort appeared eager to begin, clearly impatient to show off the allure of Dark Magic. He gave a refined bow—and in that instant, the cramped office around them suddenly expanded.
Without a word, Voldemort had cast an Extension Charm as he bowed.
Charles, smiling faintly, returned the gesture with his own polite bow—showing no worry whatsoever at exposing his back to the Dark Lord.
It wasn't that he trusted Voldemort's "honor," but rather that his special Ability: Disguise gave him confidence. This ability allowed him to negate one attack entirely at the cost of one-eighth of his HP.
Even a Killing Curse from the list of the Three Unforgivable Curses couldn't one-shot him.
As for that one-eighth HP loss, the Rainbow Wand's recovery ability—equal to the effect of Leftovers—would restore one-sixteenth HP every turn, quickly patching it up.
Of course, Voldemort didn't intend to ambush him anyway. His goal right now wasn't to kill Charles, but to impress him—to demonstrate the might and beauty of Dark Magic, to seduce him with power, and lure him away from Dumbledore's side.
To do that, Voldemort needed to maintain his image as a calm and elegant master of sorcery.
And in truth—he did have the skill to back it up.
Even though this was but a fraction of his full strength, Voldemort's expertise, wand technique, and timing were impeccable—far beyond the reach of any Hogwarts professor.
After both men finished their bows, Voldemort struck first. His wand flicked sharply—and a burst of searing flame roared forth.
Fiendfyre!
One of the most infamous Dark spells, second only to the Unforgivable Curses themselves. Of course Charles knew it well.
In fact, during his early travels, he had faced many dark wizards—and Fiendfyre had been his trump card on more than one occasion. The spell was terrifyingly destructive, capable of devouring even Horcruxes. Once unleashed, it was near impossible to control—a true cataclysm in magical form.
No wizard in their right mind would willingly face Fiendfyre.
The crimson inferno twisted and coiled under Voldemort's control, taking the shape of a massive serpent of living flame that lunged at Charles.
The temperature spiked so violently that half of Quirrell's office caught fire on its own. In an instant, Charles found himself surrounded by blazing heat, engulfed in an inferno.
But he remained utterly calm.
As the wielder of Ho-Oh's Sacred Flame, the Rainbow Wand's feathers carried divine resistance and control over fire.
With the wand in hand, Charles effectively possessed a Fire-type affinity—his fire spells were amplified by 1.5×, and his resistance to flames increased by the same factor.
Still, he wasn't foolish enough to take the attack head-on.
Even if it wouldn't kill him outright, getting hit by Fiendfyre would definitely hurt.
Charles raised his wand in his left hand, tracing an elegant arc before him. In the air, magical energy condensed into a translucent wall, cutting off the inferno like a barrier of light.
"Protego Maxima!" — an enhanced Shield Charm.
"Impressive," Voldemort remarked coolly. "A silent Protego strong enough to block Fiendfyre. That's no small feat."
But even as he praised him, Voldemort's tone carried a dark amusement.Fiendfyre wasn't so easily contained—it consumed everything it touched, even magic itself.
The flames surged higher, spreading to fill the magically expanded space, swallowing the room in a storm of fire. Charles's silhouette was soon obscured, the flames gnawing at his defensive barrier.
"It seems the Shield Charm can't hold back Fiendfyre," Charles murmured, unfazed. Indeed, Protego wasn't meant for such overwhelming elemental magic.
The proper counter to Fiendfyre was Finite Incantatem, a high-level dispelling spell—if one had the raw power to sustain it.
But Charles chose a different approach.
Instead of canceling the spell, he fought fire with fire.
A surge of magic burst from the Rainbow Wand, radiating a vivid azure hue.
He spun gracefully—almost as if dancing—and at that motion, blue flames erupted around him, swirling outward until they engulfed the crimson inferno.
"Protego Diabolica!"
(Also known, as he jokingly called it, Grindelwald-brand gas stove technique—guaranteed satisfaction.)
It was stylish, powerful, and flashy—just Charles's type. It was one of his favorite techniques.
If only Gubraithian Fire were easier to acquire! He'd once planned to ask Dumbledore for a sample, but soon he'd have Moltres's Sacred Flame anyway. He wondered which would prove stronger.
Now, the two opposing fires—Voldemort's crimson Fiendfyre and Charles's azure holy flames—collided violently, twisting into a massive vortex of destruction that threatened to devour the entire room.
Voldemort's expression flickered for the first time. He hadn't expected Charles's magical power to be this immense. Though still weaker than Voldemort himself, the gap wasn't as wide as it should've been—especially for someone so young.
The clashing infernos began to destabilize.
If they lost control, Hogwarts itself might not survive the aftermath.
Realizing this, both of them simultaneously drove their wands into the floor and shouted a Counter-Spell.
A brilliant flash—then silence.
Moments later, the fires vanished completely, leaving only a scorched, blackened office behind.
"I must say, you've surprised me, Gold," Voldemort said smoothly, though his calm demeanor barely hid his astonishment.
"You too," Charles replied casually.
Though in truth, his surprise came from disappointment.
Fiendfyre? Really? That was his opening move?
So cliché.
The Dark Lord himself… and that's it?
Even Grindelwald next door was already using Protego Diabolica, and Voldemort was still playing with old-fashioned Fiendfyre?
Pathetic.
At this rate, Charles mused, Voldemort probably hadn't studied any spell besides the Killing Curse—and even that, he didn't seem to have fully mastered.
(End of Chapter)