From their earlier clashes, even if Voldemort had been slow to notice, by now he had realized that Tver had never truly used his full strength against him.
Or rather, Tver had not intended to kill him.
So if there was anything Voldemort still could not accept, it was that after the two of them had fought with wits and strength for so long, he had still never seen Tver truly go all out.
As for the possibility that Tver's strength had simply improved too quickly, creating the illusion that he had been holding back all along...
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
No matter how gifted a wizard was, once they had reached the very top, they could not possibly continue improving at such speed.
Voldemort would rather believe that Tver had hidden his age than admit his own talent was inferior.
Tver had no idea what wild thoughts were going through Voldemort's mind. He was only studying him with interest.
The fact that Voldemort had escaped that spell unharmed proved that he was not, as everyone imagined, someone who only liked using magic with great destructive power.
Of course, under ordinary circumstances, Voldemort could solve most problems without using Protective Enchantments.
Unfortunately, they were never truly the same kind of person.
Tver thought this with a faint touch of regret.
"That look in your eyes isn't very polite."
Voldemort's figure emerged from the swirling sand and dust, his wand raised high as if gathering something.
"I was just thinking about what sort of funeral I should prepare for you..."
Before Tver could finish, Voldemort swung his arm sharply, twisting it a full half-circle as his wand instantly shifted to point at the ground.
"Rumble..."
The earth trembled as if some prehistoric beast were hidden beneath it, struggling to break free from the soil and reveal its jagged teeth.
"Boom!"
The layer of earth in front of Tver split open at once. An enormous, hideous head burst out from below, its mouth gaping wide and carrying the thick stench of mud. It moved so fast that no one could react.
And bit down.
"Boom!"
The giant serpent was far from satisfied. After swallowing Tver from head to toe, its momentum did not weaken at all. Instead, it slammed into the ground with even more violent force.
The entire snake formed a strange half-circle. On one end, its body mixed with stone kept stretching out from the fissure; on the other, its head, even crushed and distorted against the ground, was determined to bury Tver completely.
The rumbling went on without pause. In the blink of an eye, in the time it took Dumbledore to take only one step forward, the place where Tver had stood had already become a solid little hill.
"This..."
Even though Dumbledore trusted Tver's strength deeply, worry still rose in his heart.
Too fast.
Voldemort's magic was not difficult to understand. It was mainly Transfiguration, supported by several strengthening and reinforcing spells.
Perhaps it had been prepared in advance, but it had been released far too quickly, leaving almost no time to react.
Even more worrying was that under Dumbledore's fixed gaze, he had clearly seen that Tver had not used Apparition to dodge.
Dumbledore could only guess that Tver had his own way to deal with it.
But unlike their worried expressions, Hermione had kept her eyes on the small hill compressed from earth.
"That hill... is breathing?"
Her voice was not loud, but in the silent surroundings, it was especially clear.
Hearing this, the smile on Voldemort's face froze, and he quickly turned his gaze to the hill.
Sure enough, the hill seemed to have come alive, swelling and shrinking slightly, again and again.
Not only that, but Voldemort, whose observation was even sharper, noticed that the soil of the hill was drying at an astonishing speed, as if there were an oven inside roasting some delicious food.
"Crack... crack..."
Soon, the surface of the soil became crisp, cracking into scale-like plates that fell to the ground and shattered into powder.
No. The heat was coming from inside.
Looking at the flames leaping within the cracks, Voldemort's eyes widened.
He had realized how Tver had resisted that magic.
"Boom!"
With a tremendous roar, the hill exploded violently. Flying among the fragments were, naturally, Tver's signature blue-violet flames.
No.
Voldemort focused his gaze and discovered that unlike the flames from before, what now surrounded Tver had become clusters of flaming blossoms.
In a sense, Tver seemed to be standing in a field of flowers.
Only these flowers possessed deadly destructive power.
"Using my magic to hide your own underground. Although the preparation took quite a while, the result was truly impressive. Full marks."
Tver's smile gradually appeared amid the flames, but when Draco saw it from the sidelines, he immediately observed a second of silence for Voldemort.
"It's over. The professor is angry. Voldemort is probably dead for certain."
With his rich experience of being punished, he made the most certain judgment of his life.
Voldemort did not know Draco's thoughts, but the keen senses he had developed over the years clearly allowed him to smell a dense aura of danger.
"Protego!"
This was the first time Voldemort had used the Shield Charm in front of everyone, but with only a brief display, he showed them his astonishing mastery of the spell.
The dark, dull shield was like a black hole, swallowing the surrounding light with a strange distortion.
And in that exact instant, Tver swept out his arm, pointing straight at Voldemort.
Receiving the command, the small flames surrounding him immediately swelled into great balls of fire.
If they had been simple flames before, now they were more like little blue-violet demons leaping through the air, baring their teeth.
Their prey was Voldemort, protected by the black shield.
But unlike the spikes from before, the flames did not all rush forward at once. Instead, as if they possessed minds of their own, they nimbly darted around the range of the black shield, searching for every opening they could attack.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Faced with agile fireballs blotting out the sky, Voldemort could only release black shields one after another to block attacks coming from every direction.
Voldemort frowned as he watched the fireballs being shattered around him. The sparks upon them were like flowers from hell, carrying a deadly elegance.
There were too many fireballs, and they were far too agile.
Almost every second, fireballs covering every direction attacked him. Even more terrifying was that these fireballs formed a rhythm that left him overwhelmed, like a machine that would never make a mistake.
And if he made even one error, he would be swallowed by the fireballs in an instant.
"It's over."
Tver's cold voice suddenly sounded from behind him. Voldemort's pupils dilated at once, and the sense that something was terribly wrong had only just begun to surge into his heart.
"Boom!"
Everyone only saw a blinding flash erupt from the professor's wand. Before they closed their eyes, all they could see was a mighty flame like a dragon swallowing Voldemort in an instant.
After a long while, when Harry felt his eyes had become more comfortable, he impatiently opened them.
On the field, the professor still held his wand pointed forward, while sparks flickered across Voldemort's black robes, eating out one tiny hole after another.
More importantly, Voldemort had collapsed weakly to the ground. As his life force drained away, his breathing gradually slowed, and his body began to crumble.