How Could the Killing Curse Fail?
Voldemort stared at Lockhart, who stood unharmed, with a grim expression.
He was no ordinary dark wizard.
As the Dark Lord, Voldemort's mastery of black magic was unparalleled. Among his many dark arts, the Killing Curse was his pride and specialty. His understanding of it exceeded that of Grindelwald or even Dumbledore.
For Voldemort, casting the Killing Curse was as natural as breathing. Where ordinary wizards required days to recover from the emotional and spiritual toll of casting it even once, Voldemort could unleash a hundred or more in a single day without hesitation, thanks to the Horcruxes that anchored his soul.
This proficiency made him a figure of terror. To most wizards, the Killing Curse was a forbidden weapon, used sparingly and with great cost. For Voldemort, it was merely a basic attack. Every strike was lethal, turning him into a symbol of death itself.
Over years of refinement, Voldemort had enhanced the Killing Curse beyond its original capabilities. His version not only obliterated the soul but also incorporated features such as unerring precision, magical tracking, and even resistance to Apparition-based escape.
For those unfortunate enough to face him, the curse invoked such primal fear that their bodies often froze, leaving them defenseless.
Confident in the curse's lethality, Voldemort had willingly sacrificed his arm to ensure Lockhart's defeat. Even if Lockhart survived one or two hits, Voldemort believed the cumulative effect would bring him down.
Yet now, he stood face to face with an impossibility: the Killing Curse had failed.
Lockhart met Voldemort's astonished glare with a faint smile.
"space and time seperation," Lockhart said, his tone calm yet laced with an unspoken challenge.
The technique Lockhart referred to dislocated space and time, preventing any attack from the present moment from striking him where he was a second earlier.
This magic, derived from the Time Stone, was one of Lockhart's most significant achievements. His brief encounter with the Eye of Agamotto had proven fruitful; there was no way Lockhart would let such an opportunity slip by.
The integration of time and space magic was no small feat, but Lockhart had amassed sufficient energy from these dimensions to cast such spells with remarkable efficiency.
While Voldemort seethed in disbelief, Lockhart took a moment to survey the battlefield.
The firestorm conjured by his students, known as Heavenly Fire Comes to the World, rained down relentlessly, like meteorites from the heavens. Werewolves and dark wizards scrambled in panic, dodging the fiery onslaught.
Despite the oppressive assault, Voldemort's earlier conjuring of black mist had momentarily bolstered their morale. Yet with Voldemort now occupied, their hope began to falter once more.
The dark wizards frantically layered themselves with defensive spells, shimmering barriers of varying shades materializing around them. Werewolves, lacking magical abilities in their transformed state, relied on their instincts to evade the fireballs. Some even sought refuge beside the dark wizards, hoping their shields might offer protection.
"Protego!"
The sky above the square darkened as layers of gray magical barriers overlapped, dimming the fiery red glow cast by the falling fireballs.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the other professors diverted their focus to the students. Concern etched their faces as they observed the scene.
The scale of the joint spellcasting astonished them. Although such magic held immense power, it came with significant risks. They knew too well that the slightest mistake could cause a catastrophic backlash, endangering the lives of the casters.
Snape, however, wore a faint smirk. Unlike the others, he understood the roots of this magic.
The joint spellcasting was a hallmark of Kamar-Taj, designed to combat dimensional demons. Lockhart, ever resourceful, had adapted the technique for wizards and rigorously trained his students in its execution.
Under the watchful eyes of the professors, the first wave of fireballs descended upon the square.
Boom!
The initial fireball collided with the gray defensive barriers, causing them to buckle under the force. Flames exploded outward, painting the barriers with a fiery hue.
One after another, the fireballs struck, their explosions sending sparks flying across the square. The dark wizards' collective defenses held for the first wave, but it was evident the shields were weakening. Cracks began to spiderweb across the barriers, and the strain on their magic was palpable.
The werewolves, dementors, and dark wizards instinctively clustered together in small groups, seeking safety in numbers. Above them, the defensive barriers flickered ominously, barely holding under the relentless assault.
The dark wizards, desperate to regain the upper hand, began weaving offensive spells of their own. Dark magic rippled through the air, their curses and Killing Curses aimed directly at Ian, Vera, and the other Kamar-Taj students.
The werewolves, their muscles bulging grotesquely, let out feral roars and prepared to charge. Their eyes locked onto the students with savage intent.
The dementors, hovering ominously, exhaled icy breaths that chilled the air. The oppressive heat of the battlefield gave way to a sinister cold, the dark energy amplifying the effectiveness of the black magic.
Ian and the others felt the shift immediately. The magic in the air grew heavy, sluggish, making their spells harder to control.
Despite the mounting pressure, the students held firm. Above the square, the firestorm continued, hammering down on the dark wizards' defenses.
Boom! Boom!
With a deafening crack, the defensive barriers shattered, and the remaining fireballs rained down unhindered.
The battlefield erupted into chaos as the fiery projectiles struck the square. It was now an all-out war between the wizarding students of Kamar-Taj and the Death Eaters.
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