Voldemort lowered his head, staring in disbelief at the sudden flare of fla in front of him.
In a way, the Firestorm Charm combined with Fiendfyre was like the sharpest blade imaginable—capable of slicing through any obstacle with ease.
Back in the Hebrides, that sa combination had effortlessly cleaved through an entire island.
This ti, while the scale wasn’t nearly as grand, Voldemort’s body was certainly no island.
Just as he was still reeling from the Basilisk’s death, a flash of scarlet fire streaked across his chest.
Voldemort finally snapped out of it, stumbling backward as he looked down at the blazing red fla now burning through him.
Monts later, cracks began to spread across his body—like sun-baked earth dried and fractured under intense heat.
Soon, the Fiendfyre dissipated, but the cracks only deepened, glowing faintly with red light from within.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only broken, muddled whimpers ca out. His crimson eyes flared even brighter, the light completely swallowing the narrow slits of his pupils.
With a heavy thud, Voldemort’s body collapsed, crashing to the ground.
Tom Riddle lay sprawled in the dirt like a poorly made statue—motionless.
The forest fell silent.
Rosier, who had been content to watch from the sidelines, now wore a stunned expression. She hadn’t expected it—Kyle had actually killed Voldemort.
How had he done it…?
“Ugh... nnnh…” A sudden moan shattered the silence.
It ca from Snape, lying not far away. His body trembled violently, as if no longer under his control. His eyes rolled back, his mouth parted slightly…
In the distance—so faint it almost seed imagined—Kyle thought he heard a series of piercing, agonized screams.
Snape’s convulsions grew more intense. His whole body jerked, nearly lifting off the ground.
“Voldemort did sothing to him.”
Rosier, oddly calm and almost pleased, offered Kyle a passing remark. “If you want to save him, now’s your chance to do sothing.”
“I…” Kyle frowned. Easier said than done. He didn’t even know what Voldemort had done. He asked Rosier, but she just hovered there silently, offering no further help.
Left with no alternative, Kyle rushed forward. A few thick tree branches snaked out, coiling tightly around Snape to hold down his spasming body.
But then—Kyle hesitated.
He had no idea what was happening to Snape, which ant he had no idea how to stop it.
Maybe… he could bind him up, throw him in the suitcase, and have Fawkes fly them both to St. Mungo’s?
Kyle weighed the idea. Honestly, he didn’t want to get dragged into whatever complicated ss existed between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. This could be the perfect excuse to leave the forest with a clear conscience.
Yeah. That would work.
He turned toward Fawkes—but before he could speak, he caught sothing in the corner of his eye.
Snape’s unconscious gaze flickered. A brief flash of crimson glowed in his irises.
Kyle froze.
If he wasn’t mistaken, that crimson glow—it looked exactly like Voldemort’s eyes.
Did… did he turn Snape into a Horcrux? No—that couldn’t be. Horcruxes were ant to keep Voldemort alive, not allow him to possess soone else.
Wait...
Kyle’s thoughts jolted. He suddenly rembered—years ago, when the Death Eaters had broken into the Departnt of Mysteries, trying to steal the prophecy orb containing information about the Chosen One.
They’d failed, and Voldemort had appeared at the Ministry himself, clashing with Dumbledore in a fierce duel.
At the end of that fight, Voldemort had used a peculiar spell… one that let him project his consciousness into Harry’s body. And at the ti, Harry’s condition looked exactly like Snape’s now.
Could Voldemort have just transferred his consciousness into Snape?
The more Kyle thought about it, the more likely it seed. It would also explain why Voldemort had been so desperate to stop Kyle from taking Snape away.
He’d needed a vessel nearby to transfer into.
Kyle certainly wasn’t an option—that had been proven at the Ministry. Voldemort had tried him first and failed, only then turning to Harry.
Rosier? Even less suitable. A seasoned dark witch like her? Who knew what tricks she had up her sleeve.
Which left only one viable choice: the unconscious Snape.
The violent struggle just now—it must have been Voldemort’s consciousness clashing with Snape’s Occluncy.
On instinct, Kyle yanked a Dentor from the suitcase, ready to unleash it and have it administer the Kiss. Follow current novels on novel·fire·net
But then he froze.
Does consciousness count as a soul?
If it didn’t… and the Dentor sucked out Snape’s soul instead—what then?
That single mont of hesitation was all it took.
Voldemort broke through.
Snape’s eyes turned fully red.
“Feeling proud of yourself?” Snape said. “You nearly killed the great Dark Lord.”
“So it is you,” Kyle sighed.
“And what if it is?”
“Why can’t you ever just save us all so ti?” Kyle raised his wand. “If I can kill you once, I can kill you again. What’s the point of dragging this out?”
“Then go ahead,” Voldemort said, as if amused. “I’m curious—will you really kill Severus?”
“You’re welco to find out.”
“I learned sothing rather interesting,” Voldemort went on, seemingly talking to himself. “You and a witch nad Prince seem quite close. And Prince’s only living relative… is Severus.”
“So, will you kill him?” His smile widened. “Co on, I’m waiting.”
Kyle didn’t move.
“You’re hesitating, aren’t you?”
Snape began to thrash against the thick branches binding him, struggling to break free.
“You don’t dare kill Severus. Pathetic sentint… Ha! Just like Dumbledore—weak, sentintal.”
“Who says I don’t dare?”
Kyle took a step back, face blank. “If soone cast the Killing Curse on Snape right now, wouldn’t that kill you for good?”
“Would you really do it?” Voldemort shot back.
“You didn’t deny it. So I’d say that confirms it.” Kyle narrowed his eyes, took another step back, then glanced toward Rosier.
“I’m not exactly great with the Killing Curse. I’ll leave it to you…”
“You sure about that?” Rosier raised a brow. “I have to admit, you British wizards really are sothing. If I heard correctly, this man is your wife’s only remaining family—and you’re asking to kill him?”
“She’s not my wife yet,” Kyle corrected her.
“That’s the part you want to focus on?” Rosier’s voice turned cold, and her gaze toward him grew openly scornful.
“Spare the comntary. If you don’t want to kill Voldemort, then pretend I never said anything.”
“Avada Kedavra!”
Rosier didn’t hesitate for a second, swinging her wand down hard.
She couldn’t care less about their relationships. British wizards or not—she’d kill any of them without blinking.
“Damn it, why…”
Voldemort was stunned. He hadn’t expected Kyle to be so eager to kill him. Even while he was occupying Severus’s body, Kyle’s only “rcy” was to let soone else cast the curse.
Weren’t Dumbledore’s people supposed to value emotion and loyalty above all else?
But this Kyle… He didn’t even hesitate.
Now, Voldemort was truly afraid.
Just as Kyle had said—if Snape were killed by a Killing Curse right now, then so would he.
And this wasn’t so bluff. Voldemort could see it clearly—Rosier had used the real thing.
No—he couldn’t die here!
As the Killing Curse descended, Voldemort finally snapped. He tore himself free from Snape’s body and shot straight toward Kyle.
Kyle calmly raised his wand.
“It’s no use,” Voldemort’s voice echoed from every direction, tinged with hysteria. “Even Fiendfyre can’t kill now!”
Understandable—after having his plans foiled by Kyle ti and again, anyone would start to unravel.
“I’m going to… kill you…”
The voice grew closer, almost right in front of him.
Kyle’s lips curled slightly.
Then he shut his eyes and swung his wand with force.
Two orange eyes flew from the dead Basilisk’s head, whirling through the air like searchlights.
And then—Voldemort’s agonized scream tore through the forest.
“Ah... ah...”
“You should... you...”
Monts later, the voice vanished, as if it had never existed.
Voldemort was dead—truly dead this ti. Though it wasn’t Dumbledore who ended him, it was still better than how things went a dozen years ago, when he’d been killed by the rebound of his own curse... At least this ti, it wasn’t quite so humiliating.
“Avada—”
Before Kyle could exhale in relief, a flash of green light shot down from above—but he dodged it just in ti.
Kyle opened his eyes and looked up at Rosier.
“What the hell was that?”
“You really don’t know?” Rosier said coldly. “The Basilisk’s eyes… You were trying to kill too, weren’t you?”
“Of course not, I warned you,” Kyle replied. “I gave you a hand signal to shut your eyes. You just didn’t see it.”
“Warned ?” Rosier let out a sharp laugh. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
She was certain—Kyle had ant to kill her. If she hadn’t known about the Basilisk in advance and stayed alert, she might have looked straight into its eyes.
And who would’ve thought that thing would still be dangerous even after death?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She was ready to blast Kyle to pieces right then and there—but then a different idea ca to her.
“Alright,” she said suddenly. “I believe it wasn’t intentional.”
Caught off guard by Rosier’s sudden shift in tone, Kyle blinked before replying, “Good. We may have been enemies once, but right now we’re allies. Why would I deliberately kill you? It makes no sense.”
“No need to explain. I get it,” Rosier said. “So I hope you’ll also understand if I happen to ntion later that you killed Severus Snape.”
“Don’t twist things.”
“Twist?” Rosier’s voice turned mocking. “You think just because you didn’t do it yourself, it doesn’t count?
Let guess, you’re planning to explain this to that witch… What’s her na again?”
“Kanna Prince,” Kyle replied helpfully. “And I don’t see what I’d need to explain—Snape isn’t dead.”
“Ha! You’ve lost your mind.” Rosier sneered. “No one survives the Killing Curse.”
She had seen it clearly. Even though Voldemort’s consciousness had fled, the Killing Curse had struck that wizard nad Snape squarely.
She couldn’t be wrong about that.
“Strange?” Kyle shrugged. “Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse. Perfectly plausible.”
“That’s not the sa,” Rosier snapped.
“If you don’t believe , why not take a closer look?” Kyle said with a smile. “See for yourself—has Snape really died?”
Rosier couldn’t understand why Kyle kept insisting the man wasn’t dead... She had cast the Killing Curse herself—she would know whether she held back or not.
So she looked up at Snape, ready to shatter Kyle’s foolish fantasy...
“What—what is this?!”
Her eyes went wide, the wrinkles on her face stretching taut in disbelief.
Snape was still alive.
No, that had to be an illusion.
Rosier flew over at once, heading straight for Snape to get a better look.
Kyle didn’t stop her. He just stood nearby, watching calmly as her expression shifted by the second.
“He’s really not dead... That’s impossible. How is this possible?!”
Rosier had never seen anything like it—soone surviving a direct hit from the Killing Curse.
If it were just hearsay, she could explain it away—maybe the spell was altered, maybe a trick was used.
But she’d witnessed everything firsthand. She was the one who cast the curse. There was no chance of a miscast or a decoy spell.
So what in rlin’s na was going on?
Veins pulsed at her temples, and her head felt like it was going to burst. She instinctively wanted to report this to Grindelwald.
But just as she turned to leave, sothing caught her eye.
On Snape’s wrist, two silver phoenixes shimred in flight. One of them was fading—its color draining away bit by bit.
By the ti she focused on it, that phoenix had vanished completely.
The remaining one returned to Snape’s wrist, shrinking into a small, silver ornant—plain and inconspicuous.
It was Kanna’s. Or more precisely, sothing Nicolas Flal had reforged using alchemy after receiving her Phoenix Potion—then returned to her.
Its effect was as blunt as it was effective: it could block two Killing Curses.
Kyle had noticed Kanna’s bracelet was missing back at Hogwarts—but he hadn’t expected to find it here, on Snape.
Strange. So it can be removed... Maybe because of their blood relation?
Kyle shook his head. No need to overthink it.
That was why he had let Rosier cast the Killing Curse—because he’d seen the bracelet.
He had no idea how to expel Voldemort’s consciousness. So he gambled—betting Voldemort wouldn’t risk his own life. That before the curse landed, he would abandon Snape’s body.
And it turned out he was right. Even knowing escape was impossible afterward, Voldemort still fled.
Then Kyle finished him off—using the Basilisk’s eyes.
Rosier didn’t know the full truth, but she could tell the silver phoenix-shaped charm wasn’t ordinary.
Maybe it was because of that item that Snape had survived the Killing Curse.
Her eyes glead. Without thinking, she reached out to grab the bracelet-like charm.
If it really had blocked a Killing Curse, its value was beyond estimation. Grindelwald would definitely want it...
“Hey, Madam Rosier—that’s not yours.”
A tree branch extended in front of her. Another one swept in from the side, lifting the unconscious Snape away.
“Look all you want, but trying to take it’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Stop! Put him down!” Rosier instinctively raised her wand, pointing it toward the direction of the retreating branches.
“What exactly are you doing, Madam Rosier?” Kyle raised his wand as well, his expression grave.
“Should I take this to an... the fight between us is back on?”
“Of course... not.”
Seeing clearly who stood across from her, Rosier’s expression shifted once more. She took a long breath and narrowed her eyes.
“I’m just curious about alchemy,” she said coolly. “I wanted a closer look at his... trinket.”
“Oh, I see. Looks like I misunderstood.”
Kyle replied as he guided the branches, placing Snape safely into the suitcase.
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