Savage: The Night Wizard - (A Harry Potter Fanfic) Chapter 525 - 525

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Yeah! Here's the new chapter!

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"It seems you've inherited so of that old fool's habits... like constantly ddling where you shouldn't," Voldemort said, a cold, emotionless smile on his lips.

Standing before him, with steady eyes and a fearless, defiant posture, was Harry, who had his phoenix-feather wand pointed directly at his nesis.

The Dark Lord's eyes were fixed on the Gryffindor boy's face, watching him closely — letting his gaze trace every line before pausing for a mont on the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

"Hmph… Says the one who was about to cowardly attack Ethan from behind!" Harry retorted, staring the dreaded wizard down with bravery.

Being called a coward so directly by the "weak boy" in front of him made Riddle's blood instantly boil. His gaze shifted from the infamous scar back to the young wizard's face, now filled with growing coldness and rage.

"So, it seems you do have a little courage in you, after all…" Voldemort murmured, almost disdainfully.

Even though he appeared to be mocking Harry, it was clear that the Gryffindor student's words had gotten under his skin.

The evil aura surrounding him seed to grow thicker — almost visible — like a black veil wrapped around his body.

He narrowed his eyes. "But unfortunately for you, you've chosen to use that foolish courage at the worst possible mont… and against the wrong person."

Saying this, he directed all his killing intent toward Harry, slowly raising his bone wand and pointing it at him with deadly intent.

Feeling Voldemort's deadly and dark presence bearing down on him, a chill ran down Harry's spine.

Sweat began to slide down his back, and his heart pounded loudly in his chest. The tension was suffocating.

'Note to myself: never let Ethan decide who fights who again,' he thought with a slight grimace.

But despite the nerves, he did not back down or falter. He held his ground in a combat stance, his face set with determination and defiance.

His hand holding the wand was tense, nearly trembling.

However, Harry wouldn't let Voldemort see that his words and threats had affected him… far more than he wanted to admit. With sheer willpower, he shoved those bad thoughts deep into his mind and took a deep breath.

'Co on… Just pretend this is another day at Hogwarts dealing with Malfoy or so other idiotic Slytherin,' he told himself.

It was a simple, brief form of self-encouragent, but it worked — he now felt fully ready for battle.

Realizing his intimidation tactic had failed on the golden boy, Voldemort didn't seem disappointed or show any reaction.

He knew fools always acted brave when facing him — but in the end, they always ended up crumpled at his feet.

'Heh... Let's see how you fare now that your mother's protection won't save you anymore,' he thought, a triumphant grin blooming in his mind.

Riddle then — with his wand still aid at Harry — slightly parted his lips, and in a whispering, malicious voice, began chanting a spell.

"{Oscuru Ful—}"

"{Expulso}!"

However, with a quick shout, Harry interrupted the Dark Lord's enchantnt, attacking him the mont he saw light beginning to spark at the enemy wand's tip.

"Hmph," Voldemort scoffed, easily dodging the spell.

But Harry didn't stop. Right after that attack, he cast another spell at the snake-faced man, followed by another and another, in a relentless and rapid-fire sequence.

Harry had no intention of giving Voldemort the chance to strike back, knowing — and grudgingly admitting — that he was at a complete disadvantage in this duel.

He was just a regular teenager. A novice wizard who hadn't even finished his education at Hogwarts.

And on the opposite side stood the one everyone he knew feared… The man considered by many to be the greatest Dark Lord in history.

That's why he chose to follow Combat Rule #17, taught by : "Never let your enemy be the one to take the initiative in battle, especially if he's stronger than you."

"{Stupefy}!" the Boy-Who-Lived shouted again, shooting another beam of light from the tip of his wand.

"Tsk," Voldemort clicked his tongue, a vein popping on his forehead.

It was already frustrating enough that he'd had a hard duel with , unable to kill or even injure in any way...

And now, he was being pushed into a defensive position by Harry — the other boy in this graveyard who, in his opinion, wasn't nearly as skilled or powerful as .

"Enough!" Voldemort hissed in anger, his voice deep and sinister.

He then raised his bony, barefoot foot... and stomped it against the ground with force.

*Boom!*

With that action, a strong and aggressive shockwave erupted with him at its center, shaking the small area and launching leaves, twigs, and stones into the air.

These leaves and stones then stopped midair, floating lightly. Soon after, they began to change — darkening and taking on a more tallic look, as if forged from black iron.

Once the transformation was complete, Voldemort, who controlled them, turned the deadly shards toward the Boy-Who-Lived.

With a flick of his wand, he fired the projectiles.

The improvised projectiles were fast and destructive, intercepting and neutralizing Harry's latest spells before continuing to fly toward him at high speed.

The slicing sound through the air served as a clear warning to Harry — these tallic leaves and stones were no joke.

"{Accio} rock!" he shouted, summoning a marble gravestone lid to shield himself.

*Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!*

Dozens upon dozens of blackened leaves, twigs, and stones struck the stone shield, ricocheting off with harsh, hollow clangs.

Thankfully, the destructive and penetrating power of the projectiles wasn't overwhelming, only managing to cause so cracks and scratches on the resilient marble.

While Harry struggled under the fierce assault, Voldemort didn't imdiately follow up with another spell. Instead, he used that mont to glance at his pale, thin hand.

'This body... I'm still not completely used to it,' the Dark Lord thought, frowning.

This new body, created through rituals and magic, was stronger, more durable, and more agile than a normal one — practically a perfect vessel.

But after spending so many years as a weak, fragile shadow… a half-dead specter that had to possess animals and humans to survive, Voldemort had all but forgotten what it was like to have a proper body.

'Tsk. I still need a few more days to fully adapt… and a few weeks to recover all my magic and power,' he assessed, clenching his fist tightly.

"{Ventus}!"

It was at that mont Voldemort heard Harry shout a spell, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Looking back at the last Potter, the Dark Lord saw him unleash a strong wind spell at the transfigured projectiles still falling over him.

The powerful gust of wind that ca from the tip of his wand scattered the tallic leaves, branches, and stones, blowing them away and creating an opening for Harry to face Voldemort once again.

"Co on, Tom! Is that all you've got?" Harry taunted boldly, using the Slytherin's real na deliberately for the first ti.

He knew provoking the Dark Lord wasn't the wisest choice… but in this situation, he had no other option.

He was already panting hard, sweat pouring down his forehead, feeling extrely tired and weak after fighting nonstop and frenetically for so long.

And Harry knew that if things continued this way, he'd be dead before he even had the chance to destroy the ward around the graveyard.

Because of that, the young lion decided to make a risky — and frankly stupid — move by taunting Voldemort, understanding it was the only way to force an opening. One that could give him a chance to turn the situation around.

'I just need to hold on a little longer… The graveyard is almost completely destroyed,' he thought, trying to stay strong.

End.

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