John soared through the air, his heart racing as he neared Nagini. But before he could reach her, an unseen force struck him, sending him tumbling across the ground. After several rolls, he managed to steady himself and come to a stop. As he looked up, a figure materialized from the blurred surroundings. The sight of the face before him caused John's pupils to constrict in shock. It was a face more handsome with age, its pallor stark against the occasional flash of red in the eyes. The figure wore a plain suit, a cold smile playing on his lips. John knew this face all too well. With gritted teeth, he uttered the name: "Voldemort."
This version of Voldemort appeared older and more refined than the young student John remembered. Standing up, John faced him, noting that Voldemort hadn't drawn his wand but simply regarded him with an indifferent gaze.
"So, you've intruded into my domain," Voldemort remarked, his voice laced with disdain.
John couldn't help but respond with a mix of anger and coldness, "Yours? Voldemort, it seems you've turned Nagini into a Horcrux."
Indeed, it wasn't just the Blood Curse entwining Nagini, but also a fragment of Voldemort's soul. John realized he should have anticipated this, given Nagini's role as a Horcrux in the original story. Voldemort had not only been ruthless to others but had shown an extreme form of cruelty to himself by splitting his soul.
As John wiped the blood from his mouth, he felt the toll the encounter had taken on his body. The soul, being the essence of a person, meant that any harm to it could have fatal consequences. When Voldemort made a move towards Nagini, an invisible force lifted her by the neck. Asserting his ownership, Voldemort declared, "Nagini, you are mine."
"Nagini," she managed to choke out, struggling for air.
In that moment, John acted. With a gesture, he sent Voldemort flying, freeing Nagini from the invisible grasp. She fell to the ground as John coldly stated, "You're not the only one versed in these magics."
Voldemort, slightly taken aback, regained his composure mid-air and landed gracefully. With a sinister smile and bloodthirsty gaze, he taunted, "A weak soul dares to challenge me in this illusion."
John's concern deepened as he noticed the silvery light on his fingers fade. The realization hit him hard; using magic in this realm drained the soul. "No wonder," he murmured, understanding the grave situation he was in. Without his magical strength, defeating Voldemort seemed an impossible task.
Yet, abandoning Nagini was not an option. With Voldemort watching closely, retreat was not in John's plans. Resolved, he decided to confront the challenge head-on.
Initiating the attack, John waved his hand, igniting flames in the otherwise empty illusionary space, accelerating the drain on his soul. A fireball grew from a spark in his right hand, surprising Voldemort with the ancient magic John wielded. As Voldemort countered with a water snake, their collision created a dense mist in the Misty Illusionary Territory.
Seizing the moment, John dispersed the mist around Voldemort, rendering the soul-generated fog impenetrable to vision. With his right hand, he conjured a dagger made of soul energy, despite the cost of his illusion becoming nearly transparent.
With a cruel smile, John reminded himself, "Magic? Don't forget, I'm a level 7 master of short weapons!"
In the mist, John became an omnipresent shadow, moving with the stealth and precision of a nightcrawler. Voldemort, though shrouded in fog and exuding a terrifying aura, was caught off guard. A green light shot through the mist, missing John by inches. Confident in his attack, Voldemort was puzzled by his miss, and a sense of dread quickly filled him. In a desperate move, he turned, but it was too late. In an instant, John had struck, leaving seven bloody wounds as a testament to his swift and deadly approach. Voldemort's expression shifted dramatically as John materialized before him like an apparition. "Crucio!" he bellowed, unleashing a bolt of red lightning that struck John, eliciting a stifled groan from him as a significant portion of his chest was scorched, leaving a gaping hole. Without a moment's hesitation, John hurled the dagger, then swiftly manipulated it with a spell, sending it hurtling towards Voldemort with lightning speed. In response, Voldemort conjured a defensive barrier akin to the Iron Armor Charm. However, upon contact, the dagger shattered into countless fragments, much like fragile bubbles.
Caught off guard, Voldemort watched as John advanced, his eyes morphing into vertical slits. In a gruesome display, John tore off his right hand, which then transformed into a gleaming silver sword. Uttering words in the ancient dragon tongue, he declared, "I am a fire dragon." Flames enveloped the blade, and despite the excruciating pain, John thrust it forward, piercing Voldemort's body. The flames erupted, engulfing them in a fiery inferno, and Voldemort's facade crumbled under the intensity. Clutching the blade, his eyes ablaze with fury, Voldemort sneered, "You can't escape, Avada..." His resilience was evident as he prepared to exchange blows, aiming a deadly curse at John's face.
In that critical moment, John's mind went blank, realizing his underestimation of Voldemort. Just as the curse neared, a woman leaped forward, her battered body colliding with Voldemort and diverting the curse away from John. In a fit of rage, Voldemort seized Nagini by the neck and hurled her aside, casting the Killing Curse directly at her. As the curse approached, Nagini closed her eyes, content with the thought of sacrificing herself for John.
Time seemed to slow, allowing John to witness Nagini's resolve and Voldemort's wrath in vivid detail. Releasing the sword, John extended his hand towards Nagini, whispering, "Return of the soul." The green light bathed the entire area.
Nagini awoke in a dimly lit dungeon, her gaze shifting between the astonished bald old man and John, who lay with his eyes shut, his body gradually turning to gray. Nagini's heart ached as she attempted to approach him, only to pass through his ethereal form. Realizing her own body had been restored and lay nearby, she was overcome with despair.
Damo Alex, regaining his composure, questioned, "Was it successful?" Ignoring his own emotions, he rushed to John's side, revealing that John had used a spectral spell to extract Nagini's soul. "Where is John? What happened?" Damo Alex demanded, his voice laced with panic.
He quickly administered a potion to John, hoping for a miracle.
Meanwhile, Voldemort, bewildered by Nagini's sudden disappearance, faced John's mocking smile. "It seems you're not as knowledgeable as you think," John taunted, his form flickering like a candle in the wind under Voldemort's wrathful assault.
Voldemort, enveloped in black smoke, confronted John, lifting him by the throat. The silver sword embedded in his chest disintegrated, but John's eyes gleamed with defiance, a smirk playing on his lips. "Curious? Then go ask," he taunted, nodding towards an empty space behind Voldemort.
Realizing he'd been deceived, Voldemort spun around, only to find nothing. In a fit of rage, he turned back to John and unleashed the Killing Curse. This marked the first time John had cast the curse without a wand, striking Voldemort squarely, leaving his visage marred by cracks. With a handsome face twisted in terror, he screamed, not even sparing a glance at John. Clutching his face and howling in madness, it was a tragic scene, especially since he was under the effect of a death curse—an unforgivable curse. Amidst his screams, Voldemort's face began to disintegrate, his body crumbling inch by inch, emitting a green glow from within. The fragment of Voldemort's Horcrux perished.
John sat on the ground, his gaze drifting in the direction Voldemort had been looking just moments before. He hadn't been lying. In that direction, a figure cloaked in black was barely visible, his face obscured, but John could sense his presence, and felt his quiet observation.
John's soul felt more transparent, as if on the verge of dispersing. "Can you make me understand?" John spread his hands, his eyes locked on the figure in the black cloak, and asked, "Are you another soul, or the god of death?"
The figure remained silent, and John got the impression that the figure in the black cloak was amused. "Interesting, you're the most amusing person I've ever encountered," the figure finally spoke as he approached John.
John was powerless to do anything but watch as the figure drew nearer. Standing there, the figure in the black cloak radiated an overwhelming aura of deathly stillness. Then, he revealed his identity.
"You may call me..." he paused, "the Grim Reaper."
The revelation hung in the air, heavy with implications. John, sitting on the cold ground, faced the embodiment of death itself, a being shrouded in mystery and fear. Yet, in this moment, there was a strange sense of clarity. The Grim Reaper, a figure often associated with the end, stood before him, not as an enemy, but as a curious observer of the peculiar turn of events that had unfolded.
_________
If you are tired of reading I also have this converted to an audio novel on my youtube
https://www.youtube.com/@NovelAudioForge/featured
Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge