Harry Potter: A Certain Ancient Rune Professor of Hogwarts (TL)

Chapter 600: Ouroboros (2 in 1)
Intense emotions crossed the space using their mutual spiritual bond to descend on the heated battlefield.

With murderous thoughts ablaze, Voldemort swung his wand -

"Bang!"

His snakewood wand gave a loud, echoing pop, followed by a mass of black gas pouring out of his body.

"Harry Potter!?"

Voldemort exclaimed incredulously, he was quite sure he had heard that boy's voice and was not hallucinating. He looked around at the smoke and dust that had not yet cleared as if a person would suddenly jump out of there.

But that was by no means possible. Before the official duel even began, he had arranged an Intruder Charm throughout the valley.

Voldemort suddenly disappeared and appeared at the edge of the battlefield, his boiling dark magic flowing out of him as if it was out of control and escaping; as soon as it had left his body, it betrayed its master and turned into a dense mass of maggots that clung to Voldemort's robes, hands and face ... and tried to devour him.

But Voldemort didn't care, the intimidating magic backfire was nothing to him, "Come out, Harry Potter!" He growled, constantly darting his head around, before finally spotting a certain ghostly figure in a corner of his mind.

Realization dawned on him, and then he became furious beyond measure and wanted to rush into Hogwarts Castle immediately to tear the Harry who had repeatedly tried to ruin his plans into shreds.

But he had finally managed to push Dumbledore to the edge, so how could he just give up? Not to mention the fact that his Horcrux is still in Dumbledore's hands! That's why he had no choice but to suppress his grudge and resentment, and tried to expel Harry Potter out of his mind.

But he soon realized that this would not be an easy task. The boy opposite him was like a brain-dead troll refusing to leave.

For a moment it appeared as if the promising situation was about to be reversed, and he was unexpectedly thrown into a triple crisis at the same time - Harry Potter deep in his mind and thoughts; escaping uncontrolled magic that had transformed into magic maggots; and the biggest threat of all, Dumbledore - Voldemort who had wasted a golden opportunity that would help him turn everything into his favour became irritated and his hatred for Harry became even deeper in his heart.

But he couldn't help but have some kind of disturbing hidden worry flooding through his heart, that prophecy ... the one he had been unable to see in its entirety had prophesied that ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ...

What makes him worthy!

Intense anger welled up in his heart and burst out with the semblance of fire, the black robe on Voldemort flared up and the maggots that were clinging on him fell to the ground in a mass and turned back into pitch black magic.

He opened his mouth and inhaled, and all that magic came back to him once again.

Then he quickly placed several lines of defence in his mind, barely isolating Harry Potter's influence on him - if he had been given time, he could have easily driven the enemy out and countered him, but he could not spare the extra energy now and had to be passive and defensive

With the two troubles resolved, he gazed at the fading dust, the looming figure of Dumbledore suggesting that he had risen to his feet. Voldemort watched it with indifference; the previous scuffle had shown that the old man Dumbledore was no longer his equal.

Only he's unsure if it was an illusion, but Dumbledore's silhouette seemed to appear a little taller.

Could it be he was stepping on a rock?

"Clank!"

A stern chiming sound echoed through the valley.

As if it was provoked by something, a loud "hiss" resounded - some kind of profound magic that Voldemort had arranged with his snakewood wand. The unseen serpent was like a curse that would have possessed Dumbledore if he had not been careful.

But now that the curse was broken, at least half of it, the two sounds intersected and neither could overwhelm the other.

"Is this your trump card, Dumbledore-" Voldemort asked with a malevolent grin, "Do you know what just happened? Well, I got a guest with me for our duel, and he barged in on his own to act as a witness ... He will see for himself how you are going to be defeated, and then I will very happily ... reward him for the 'surprise' he has brought me '"

"Is that so, Tom? I don't think you need to go to that trouble, I will express both of our gratitude to him in person." Dumbledore said.

Voldemort narrowed his snake-like eyes, his pupils resembling a thin slit of scarlet eyes staring dead in the opposite direction, the resentment in his heart blinded him as he ignored the slight abnormality in the tone. In a high-pitched, diabolical voice he said, "You're still so smart-mouthed, Dumbledore, I, when I stomp you under my feet, I-"

He drew a sharp cold breath, the words trapped in his throat as if he had been suddenly strangled.

The smoke had completely cleared.

Dumbledore looked totally different.

He had been tall and thin, with a somewhat curved back, but now his spine looked straight; his whitish beard, which had grown long enough to be tucked into his belt, had mostly fallen off, and right before Voldemort's eyes the last of the long beard fell off, followed by a fine reddish-brown coloured beard that emerged from his smooth chin and grew wildly, and in the blink of an eye grew into a tight bushy beard, exactly the same colour as his hair at the moment.

The deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and forehead were rapidly smoothed out, his slightly hollow cheeks became plump, and his nose, which had been broken at least twice, seemed to be well-defined and straight as if it hadn't been injured at all. Dumbledore stretched out his long, strong fingers, the Elder Wand shaking excitedly in his hand, and it emitted the same chiming sound that had just clashed with the snakewood wand.

No one who saw it would doubt its extraordinary nature, the magic that wrapped around it was chilling, it is definitely a powerful wand that is not inferior to the snakewood wand held in Voldemort's hands. But Voldemort begrudgingly did not spare an ounce of his attention to it; his full attention was focused on the face that belonged to that of a middle-aged man.

"Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked with some difficulty.

"Pardon me ... the change may be a little drastic, but it is indeed me."

Dumbledore flicked his wrist and the Elder Wand responded eagerly, the power of the spell that shot from it chilled Voldemort, he blocked the spell with difficulty but the aftermath left tiny cuts on him like a knife wound.

"This can't be!" Voldemort shouted as he gathered the magical powers in his body and poured them into the snakewood wand. But Dumbledore suddenly appeared in front of him, grabbing the snakewood wand with one hand, while the tip of the Elder Wand morphed into a sharp half-edged blade with a cold gleam, and he plunged it towards Voldemort's chest.

Blood splattered everywhere.

Voldemort turned into a black mist and materialized in the distance. The confusion and shock in his eyes still didn't fully dissipate; it was too fast, Dumbledore had attacked far faster than he had ever imagined, and the change was almost as if they were two different people.

No, they were two different people!

One in his old age; the other in his prime. Not many people had seen Dumbledore in his prime in this day and age, but Voldemort had come across him today. He looked up in a panic as the sky was surrounded by clouds and fog, gathering a huge mass of magic.

The air became thick, pressing him from all sides, and he felt like a small bug that had fallen into the resin, making it difficult to even move out of his current position using Apparition.

There was no time to react, so Voldemort used the Fiendfyre curse, and a snake made of fire formed.

Dumbledore waved his wand and the soil swirled and sank like a water wave, acting like a weir, as the snake struggled while sinking deeper and deeper, and eventually completely disappeared.

Dumbledore looked at Voldemort, his azure eyes sharpened, which seemed to say, this time you will not escape. Voldemort was a little stunned, he had never seen Dumbledore in this state before, but he was reluctant to leave just like that since he could tell that this state would not last that long ...

Maybe he could stall for time?

No, he refused to believe that Dumbledore could overcome his killing curse.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort put his best foot forward. The dazzling green light gathered like water, and the killing curse took on a solid form, coalescing into a green-robed Grim Reaper wielding a scythe - a reflection of Voldemort's inner self, who prided himself on having conquered death and being able to master it, and could there be anything better to show off his status than to command it?

The green-robed Grim Reaper swung his scythe so violently that the deep valley was illuminated with a ghostly light. The birds which had been fleeing from the valley in terror fell helplessly. All living things - trees, birds, beasts, even rocks, dirt, and dead leaves - lost their original colour, as if they had been brought to life for a short time and then granted a total death.

The green light from the Grim Reaper's scythe seemed to melt away everything, and the area where the two were fighting continued to sink.

But it was still blocked.

The clouds in the sky were literally torn off and pulled down as they encircled Dumbledore, and underwent a complex series of transformations. Dumbledore waved his wand and the lustrous clouds of fire were unleashed like a magic spell, solidifying into a red light that wrapped around the green-robed Grim Reaper, along with its scythe.

"You want to use this against a Reaper?" Voldemort snarled, frantically pouring magic into the wand. A green chain connected from the tip of the wand to the green-robed Grim Reaper, providing it with a constant stream of power to help it break free.

The green light intensified, growing so forcefully that the cloud of fire wrapped around the green-robed Grim Reaper made a 'sizzling' sound, but then a burst of golden light erupted, like an eclipse in the sky at the moment, which branded the chain formed by the cloud of fire, with mysterious golden patterns.

It wasn't Transfiguration - at least not entirely, and very few people seemed to be aware of Dumbledore's other identity, the Master Alchemist. Then Dumbledore pushed all the clouds surrounding him into it, and the gold and red chains clattered and twisted as if they were alive, finally breaking off a chain that extended from the Grim Reaper and trailing along the magical connection between the green-robed Grim Reaper and Voldemort on the opposite side.

Voldemort's eyes widened as the golden-red chain made its way towards his snakewood wand, and his wrists tightened abruptly.

He is losing.

It was time to go, he tried to Apparate away but found he could not move a muscle. Voldemort lowered his head, his feet tangled by the insanely long green grass, the magic and flickering magical symbols that surged from the blades of grass made his heart sink a bit.

The golden-red chains of the burning clouds held Voldemort in place, tightening as the magic inside him slowly became silent, and eventually, he was forced to let go, dropping his snakewood wand to the ground. The green-robed Grim Reaper, which had lost its magical support, dissipated little by little.

Voldemort fell to the ground and looked at Dumbledore, who had a calm face, albeit his face looked totally different from his usual one.

"What are you going to do next, kill me?" Voldemort asked menacingly.

Dumbledore didn't say anything, and took a few steps back and sat down in a makeshift, long, thin-legged chair, and stared at Voldemort with weariness. His face was gradually creeping back with wrinkles, becoming all wrinkly and losing its lustre ... In just two or three minutes, a century had gone by.

Voldemort seemed to have forgotten that he was lying on the ground, that he was defeated and captured, and watched the scene in complete tranquillity.

"Was it worth it?"

"Worth it." Dumbledore said in a very soft, but firm tone, "I am much older, much more experienced, and much less valuable than the others. Besides - I am unavoidably responsible for your actions, not all of them of course - I am not nearly that arrogant, but it is true that I brought you into the wizarding world."

"Hypocrisy." Voldemort scoffed, at which point there was a distant whistling sound, "Oh, someone's coming, let me guess, from the Ministry of Magic? Unlikely, you can't trust them; the Order of the Phoenix? Those people are no match for me ... is it Felix Hap?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "I don't know, I didn't tell anyone where the duel was going to take place. Might as well wait and see."

Silence fell over the two men as he finished.

Dumbledore's eyes swept over the crumbling valley, the picturesque place was completely ruined at the moment, pockmarked and scorched. He gazed down at the Elder Wand, which seemed to have died and remained motionless.

"What was its name?" Voldemort abruptly asked.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment and said, "The Elder Wand."

For a moment Voldemort's expression looked spectacular. " So that's how it is." He said in a low voice, "I searched for it ... but it didn't seem to be very obedient."

"It craves for blood, it craves for strife, and I can't satisfy it." Dumbledore explained.

Voldemort's gaze shifted away from the Elder Wand as he stared at the loathsome calm old face in the chair and said wickedly, "You're wasting your life, you know that, Dumbledore?"

"I have an exact opposite view from yours." Dumbledore said briefly, shifting his body down to sit more comfortably.

"Won't you give me a chair?" Voldemort asked playfully.

Dumbledore amused, "You seem optimistic - but I don't think that's necessary, you'll be moved to a new place soon."

"Don't tell me it's Azkaban? I don't believe you're that naive." Voldemort asked tentatively, licking his lips.

"I'm not naive, I just have expectations for humanity." Dumbledore corrected, "I have wondered if I had shown you more concern and less vigilance, would you still be the same?"

After being somewhat stunned, Voldemort scoffed without emotion, "And you are claiming that you are not naive? Dumbledore, are you going to preach to me one more time about the most mighty power in your imagination - love? I realized the importance of power when I was very young - and that was before I met you. It will earn you reverence and the submission of the weak - you can't kill me, Dumbledore, I'll make a comeback. Just in the middle of our chat just now, I figured out something that has to do with our guest, my little friend Harry Potter ..."

He suddenly closed his mouth and raised his head as a figure descended from the sky.

It was Felix, who landed on the ground and looked around like a traveller who had strayed into this place. Then he walked towards the two of them, with a brisk step in a rather good mood.

"Felix Hap, here you are," Voldemort said hoarsely, greeting him like an old friend. "And we were just talking about you."

"Oh, thank you, I'm honoured." Felix said, walking around Voldemort who was on the ground, and pressing him back down when he struggled to sit up as he passed, then he walked right up to Dumbledore, looked him over carefully for a few moments, and asked "Are you all right?"

"I have never been better." Dumbledore said jokingly, as his eyes remained on him, or rather behind him, as he looked at Voldemort, and a small grin spread across his lips as if he had found something interesting.

But Voldemort interpreted that smile as mockery, and his face twisted up.

"Happened to stop by," Felix seemed to be explaining why he appeared, "with Kreacher, but I didn't let him come over, he's in a bit of a foul mood."

" Is that ... oh, I see." Dumbledore blinked and whispered.

"Speaking of which, Albus-" Felix subconsciously furrowed his brow, "is it an illusion that you look quite a bit older again? There are a few more wrinkles than when I last counted."

" You even counted them?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Of course, that's a wrinkle on Albus Dumbledore's face. It's an important piece of information." Felix said in mock seriousness, Voldemort's red eyes turning malevolent and cold, the two men's disregard for him made him feel intensely humiliated.

"I originally had some more things to say, but that doesn't seem to be necessary." He said in an icy tone.

"Yes, I should have thought of that." Dumbledore said solemnly.

Voldemort glared at Dumbledore, he certainly wasn't going to admit defeat easily. Even if all his magic was now shackled and his snakewood wand was lost, there is at least one thing he could do.

He smiled coldly and gazed deeply at Dumbledore and Felix, as if to carve the faces of the two men into his soul, then he closed his eyes and waited quietly. It would not be long before he would be reborn, because soon -

He is going to die.

Dumbledore and Felix looked at him, not making any movement. After a few seconds, Voldemort's eyes widened, and his snake-like pupils quivered, "How - what did you- do- "

Dumbledore shook his head gently and waved his wand, and the restraints on Voldemort disappeared.

But Voldemort was not free, there was another force binding him. He hung his head laboriously, examining the dark green snake's tail that ran through his chest; it seemed illusory, inflicting no physical damage, but it was this very thing that locked his soul and trapped him in this body.

A sea of emotions surged through him.

Then Voldemort was pulled up from the ground and suspended helplessly in midair, like a dishevelled Dementor with its hood removed. He struggled to look up and saw a hideous, huge serpent's head approaching him, the edges of each dark green scale pulsing with different coloured arcs of light.

"Pat - a Patronus?"

Felix nodded at him.

The Giant Serpent opened its bloody maw and the next instant Voldemort's eyes went black.

Dumbledore and Felix watched as the Giant Serpent swallowed Voldemort in one gulp, and incidentally Swallowing its own tail, it circled and spun through the air like a kitten or puppy chasing its own tail, forming a classic ancient Ouroboros snake pattern.

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