As the fearsome Dark Lord, it was only natural that Voldemort possessed far more than mere basic sorcery.
Charles soon witnessed the terrifying sophistication of Voldemort's spellcasting firsthand. A dazzling array of spells flowed seamlessly from his wand — not all of them dark magic, yet in his hands, even the simplest charms became exponentially more potent.
A mere Levitation Charm felt as if it had been transformed into an entirely different spell.
And yet, Voldemort found himself even more astonished than his opponent.
He had expected that, as the Dark Lord himself, his personal intervention would utterly overwhelm this upstart — perhaps not crush him outright, but at least grant him an obvious upper hand.
Reality, however, was far from what he had imagined.
Charles not only held his ground — he looked relaxed.
Voldemort had originally intended to show off his strength, to lure Charles toward the path of dark magic. But when he realized he couldn't so easily dominate the boy, his competitive spirit flared to life.
True, he wasn't fighting at full power — not even close. Yet his opponent was a boy not even eighteen years old, brimming with untapped potential.
"Crucio!"
A vicious curse shot toward Charles — only to smash uselessly against a shimmering emerald-green barrier.
"He blocked it?"
Voldemort was genuinely taken aback. That attack Should have bypassed even Protego, yet Charles had casually nullified it with a single Protect!
As soon as the attack dissipated, Charles countered. His Rainbow Wand flared, releasing eight blazing crimson beams of light!
Voldemort instantly recognized the spell. Though the sheer volume and power surprised him, the Dark Lord knew them at once — Stunning Spells.
With effortless grace, he twirled his wand, knocking aside all eight red bolts.
"Such petty tricks won't—"
But before he could finish his sneer, his expression froze.
The deflected bolts curved midair, looping back toward him like heat-seeking missiles!
"What—!? Since when do spells turn corners?" Voldemort blurted. "Did you stick a tracker on those?"
Charles grinned smugly. He had layered Swift onto the Stunning Spell, turning an ordinary Stunner into a homing curse!
And this technique wasn't limited to Stunners. Even the Killing Curse could be modified the same way.
What era are we in? Who still sticks to the same old spells?
Ever heard of the Avada Chain or the Guided Avada Missile?
Voldemort reacted swiftly. Realizing deflection wouldn't work, he conjured an enhanced Protego Maxima, deflecting the pursuing spells with a thunderous impact.
The barrage slammed into his shield, shaking the air with a deep rumble.
Though he'd successfully blocked the attack, he couldn't help but marvel. Voldemort believed Charles had combined a Homing Charm with offensive magic — a theory he himself had once entertained but never achieved.
Such raw magical power… such astonishing finesse. Even Voldemort, thinking back to his own youth, had to admit he'd never been this skilled.
A genius like this— if he can't be recruited, he must be destroyed. No, even if he could be recruited, he's too dangerous to keep alive.
No. He cannot be allowed to live!
Voldemort's eyes darkened, his intent clear.
Leaving a prodigy like this alive would only spell trouble. He had no wish to repeat the Dumbledore debacle — slaying one nemesis only for another to rise in his place.
The tip of his wand pulsed faintly with poisonous green light.
Yet he restrained himself. For now, recovering the Philosopher's Stone took priority. Charles was a mere potential threat — one he could easily eliminate after his resurrection.
Charles, of course, was unaware that the Dark Lord's murderous thoughts had already turned toward him. Not that it would've mattered.
After all, what threat was Voldemort — a wraith without even a proper body?
Taking a step forward, Charles watched as Voldemort's attacks grew denser, faster — like a rain of bullets. Unfortunately for Quirrell, the harder Voldemort fought, the more agony his host endured.
"Diffindo!"
Charles casually blasted apart a monstrous construct Voldemort had summoned, then used Quick Attack to weave through several incoming curses, closing the distance between them.
The two drew steadily closer — Charles, outwardly calm as he exchanged spells, secretly calculating. He was gauging the exact distance required so that his next Quick Attack would land him directly before Voldemort.
Apparition couldn't be used within Hogwarts, after all — so their duel resembled a stationary firefight.
Voldemort flicked his wand, readying another curse. But this time, it was too late.
A blinding white flash — and Charles appeared before him, seizing the wrist that held the wand. His own wand pressed coldly beneath Voldemort's chin.
Voldemort froze in disbelief.
He had no time to evade — and no strength to resist. Charles's grip was iron, far stronger than any ordinary wizard's.
In truth, physical might was Charles's real trump card.
If he wished, he could crush Quirrell's bones with a single squeeze.
"Looks like I win," Charles said with a light chuckle. This duel had been far easier than he'd expected.
"Yes… you're still as formidable as ever." Voldemort's tone was bitter. He felt as though he'd never been able to show his full strength. Using Quirrell's body bound his power, and he couldn't unleash the darkest spells without arousing suspicion.
Dark magic, by its nature, grew stronger the more evil it was — but overly wicked curses might provoke Charles's disgust or alert him. Other spells were tied exclusively to Voldemort's true self, unusable through a host. So no, he didn't recognize this duel's outcome as legitimate.
Still, he said, "Even so, you must've noticed — my power has grown. I'm nothing like I once was. That's the strength of dark magic!"
"And, as you can see, it hasn't clouded my mind. Wouldn't you agree?"
"It does seem that way," Charles admitted with a nod. Compared to Quirrell's usual cowardice, this behavior was indeed… uncharacteristic. There wasn't a more spineless wizard alive.
"So perhaps," Voldemort said smoothly, "we could… collaborate more closely?"
Charles, however, declined without hesitation. This duel had been nothing more than a mission objective. With that accomplished, he had no desire to deepen his association with Voldemort.
"Maybe after you've stepped down from teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, we can talk. Right now, though… your stench is killing me."
He released him, waving a hand in front of his nose with exaggerated disgust.