Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 163 Halloween

Voldemort vanished; the giant snake rose from the ground, ready to strike—

Above Grindelwald's head, the air suddenly distorted, and with a muffled explosion, a lizard made of viscous fiery flames appeared out of thin air, opening its massive maw filled with fangs and snapping down.

At the same time, Voldemort reappeared, standing on the base in the center of the previously empty pool.

"Hmph!" Grindelwald snorted coldly, shifted his body to the side, and swung his wand dramatically with a fluid motion.

Just as the giant snake was about to plunge its fangs into his body, it was as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible giant hand, forcibly pulled up from the ground, and thrown high into the air without any resistance.

As it ascended, the snake's body was compressed and deformed. Its massive form emitted a sickening, bone-dislocating sound in the air before exploding with a loud "bang" into a thick plume of foul-smelling black smoke, dissipating and disappearing.

The roaring, swooping fire lizard suddenly froze not far above Grindelwald's head, solidified by a layer of crystal-clear, bone-chilling ice, turning into a lifelike ice sculpture, frozen in mid-air.

The next moment, with a slight movement from Grindelwald, the ice sculpture exploded, turning into countless glittering ice crystal fragments that scattered across the sky.

But this was not the end; the tiny ice crystals came to life the moment they fell. They rapidly coalesced, expanded, and deformed.

In the blink of an eye, one after another, silver-white lions leaped out, roaring silently, and pounced straight at Voldemort on the base of the pool.

"Bastard!" Voldemort screamed, completely enraged. He no longer exercised fine control, but instead unleashed his purest, most violent power like a torrent without reservation.

With each wave of the wand, spells of various colors, each containing destructive power, swept across the entire Ministry of Magic hall.

Rumble, rumble——

The entire hall looked as if it had been smashed by a giant hammer. Large chunks of dark wood flooring and brickwork were torn apart, lifted, and thrown away like pieces of paper, revealing the ugly brickwork structure behind them.

The tall peacock blue ceiling shook violently, groaning under the strain. The hanging magic lamps were shattered, and golden runes fell and disintegrated like meteors.

At the very front of the hall, the enormous portrait of Minister Harold Mincan, a symbol of the Ministry of Magic's authority, was torn into countless pieces by the devastating spell.

Before the minister in the painting could even utter a cry, his shocked face was torn apart and disappeared into the billowing smoke and dust.

In the midst of the smoke and dust and the rain of rubble, Grindelwald's robes suddenly swirled, and his figure appeared in a relatively intact area on the other side of the hall.

Almost at the same time he appeared, a huge stone slab crashed down on the spot where he had just been standing, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He twirled the wand in his hand, and a condensed, deep blue beam of magical energy shot silently toward Voldemort.

Voldemort's red vertical pupils suddenly contracted; the power contained in the spell made him feel an unprecedented threat.

He abandoned his offensive stance, rapidly waving his wand in front of him, and a gleaming silver half-body round shield appeared out of thin air, barely blocking the blue light.

The spell slammed into the silver shield, producing a dull, long, gong-like tremor. Visible ripples spread across the shield's surface, even indenting it in a distinct arc, but it ultimately did not shatter.

Grindelwald raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly somewhat surprised that his opponent could withstand the attack.

“Voldemort,” his voice rang out clearly through the billowing smoke, “Why are you so agitated, like a wild beast whose tail has been stepped on, only able to howl? This is not the demeanor of a mysterious man.”

"Who are you?" Voldemort, his silver shield raised, his red eyes fixed on Grindelwald, his voice sharper and hoarse with rage, "Why have you come here to die?"

"Who am I?" Grindelwald chuckled softly, his voice still echoing steadily in the rumbling, trembling hall. "I am merely a traveler who happens to be passing through."

"I've only heard that a remarkable figure has emerged in this tiny British Isles." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic scene. "He calls himself 'The Mysterious Man,' and he's stirred up the entire wizarding world into a state of utter panic, even causing Albus Dumbledore to fall into his hands?"

“Curious,” Grindelwald said, waving his wand lightly and conjuring several small metal shields that blocked Voldemort’s black curses that shot from the side of the shields. “That’s all. I just came to see what kind of person you really are.”

A brief and eerie silence fell over the scene, broken only by the rustling of falling gravel and the hissing sound of a leaking pipe somewhere.

Grindelwald was happy to have this brief respite.

As the battle deepened, beneath his outward composure, the fingers gripping his wand had turned slightly white. Voldemort's performance in terms of pure destructive power and combat instincts demonstrated a strength that far exceeded his pre-battle expectations.

The seemingly inexhaustible, violent magic power, and the reckless, mad fighting style that was completely immersed in destruction, made him feel a long-lost pressure, even surpassing that of the duel more than thirty years ago.

This junior is probably superior to him in terms of combat output and endurance. At least, his body, eroded by time and having spent too much time in Nurmengard, is beginning to struggle to maintain such a high level of magical output and exquisite control.

If the fight continues, the outcome is uncertain.

However, he didn't want to leave immediately. Out of arrogance, he hadn't arranged a communication method with Snape and his group beforehand, in case the deed was done. Without confirmation that they had succeeded and escaped safely, he wanted to delay as long as possible.

"Your purpose..." Voldemort clearly didn't believe this explanation. His harsh voice shattered the silence, "Why have you come? What do you want from here?"

at this time--

"Well……"

A faint groan of pain suddenly came from a pile of rubble near the security checkpoint. Miraculously, Lukewood was unaffected by the devastating magical storm; he was merely jolted awake and writhing in agony.

“Oh, right,” Grindelwald glanced at the Death Eater on the ground, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips, “you still have a useless subordinate here. Though weaker than a goblin, he’s quite effective as a little gadget to call you over with a bell.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a blinding green light shot out from behind Voldemort's silver shield.

Grindelwald instinctively dodged, only to find that the spell wasn't aimed at him, but rather cut through the smoke and hit Lukewood, who had just struggled to raise his head and looked bewildered.

“Uh…” Lukewood’s body stiffened abruptly, the last trace of light in his eyes was completely drained, and his slightly heaving chest returned to calm.

“Tsk tsk…” Grindelwald looked at the dead Lukwood, a hint of disgust flashing in his eyes. “You don’t even spare your own minions? Voldemort, you are a complete madman.”

Voldemort ignored Grindelwald's comments. He tossed aside the dented silver shield, raised his wand again, and prepared an even more ferocious attack. Alarm bells rang in Grindelwald's mind.

He dodged Voldemort's probing spells, circling the remaining pillars and ruins of the hall, maintaining a delicate distance from Voldemort, and staring intently into Voldemort's eyes.

Voldemort also stopped his pointless attacks and stared back at him intently, his red eyes meeting his gray eyes.

"What exactly did you learn from Lukwood?" Voldemort hissed.

Grindelwald's heart stirred slightly, but his face wore a calm smile that said, "I know everything, but I'm not going to say it."

"Oh?" he retorted flippantly. "Then, Your Majesty the Great Dark Lord, what should I learn from him?"

"So you came here tonight," Voldemort narrowed his eyes, a mocking grin spreading across his face, as if he had seen through something, "just to find me?"

“Pfft,” Grindelwald said, as if he had heard a joke, his expression of disgust showing no attempt to hide it. “Don’t make it sound so disgusting. I have absolutely no interest in you.”

Before he could finish speaking, another Killing Curse shot out from the tip of Voldemort's wand, and Grindelwald instinctively dodged to the side.

Voldemort's attacks came down like a relentless storm, but Grindelwald had lost interest in continuing the fight.

Time should be running out, he thought, we can't drag this out any longer. If we keep fighting, this madman will really wear me down.

Even if he manages to escape, if he escapes in a disheveled state, covered in bruises and dirt, how will he then be able to laugh at that old guy lying in the hospital bed?
“Voldemort!” Grindelwald suddenly shouted in a clear and loud voice, “Your coming here tonight is the biggest folly of all. You’ll soon find out why I’m here.”

Voldemort's attacks became even more ferocious, and Grindelwald stopped dodging, a rotating shield of light forming in front of him.

The spell struck it, and the light shield trembled violently, its light flickering, yet it stubbornly blocked the frenzied impact.

Taking this opportunity, Grindelwald suddenly stepped back and retreated into the nearest gilded fireplace.

He glanced at the battlefield, ravaged by magic, and at Voldemort, who stood in the center of the ruins, his face so dark it seemed to drip with gloom, before the bright green flames engulfed him.

After a few seconds of spinning, accompanied by an unpleasant flushing sound, Grindelwald was ejected from a toilet bowl, landing awkwardly on the wet floor tiles.

"You son of a bitch!" he cursed with utter disgust. Fortunately, he soon noticed that his shoes, feet, and robe were all dry and clean.

With a livid face, Grindelwald pushed open the creaking wooden door of the cubicle, not even bothering to observe his surroundings, and simply teleported away, leaving only the toilet seat still swaying slightly.

……

As dusk approached, unlike the dilapidated halls of the Ministry of Magic, the Founder's Ship was filled with a rich and enticing aroma of roasted pumpkin, mixed with the sweetness of candy and the fragrance of hot apple cider.

The Halloween Eve feast had just begun. The dining room was elaborately decorated. Although there were no giant, waist-high pumpkin lanterns and swarms of live bats like in previous years' Hogwarts Great Hall, small, exquisite pumpkin lanterns dotted the space, casting a warm glow.

Colorful magical ribbons and giggling skull ornaments floated above the dining table. Although it was not as large as in previous years, after a day of relaxing and playing on the beach, the students were now able to sit together to enjoy food and feel the hard-won festive atmosphere. Their faces were filled with long-lost, heartfelt smiles, and the noise was deafening.

Myrtle's translucent figure nimbly darted and floated among the dining tables, sometimes pausing above a long table, and sometimes flying to another group of students, chatting enthusiastically with anyone.

When she recounted how she took revenge on Oliver Humbell, who had mocked her, with her death, several students who had been listening intently were filled with respect and offered her an empty seat.

Myrtle happily "sat down" (although she had passed through the chair), her glasses turning a blurry white with excitement, and she continued to chatter on about her "glorious deeds" during her lifetime and the various "observations" she had had in the decades since her death.

The atmosphere at the slightly elevated faculty dining table was not so relaxed.

Snape, McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and the others maintained a calm facade, but their eyes kept glancing towards the restaurant entrance. Clearly, they were waiting for some news or the return of someone.

Just as they were enjoying the house-elf's cooking without tasting it, the restaurant door was suddenly pushed open.

Mundungus Fletcher burst in, panting, a look of relief on his face, and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Minerva! Professor McGonagall! He’s back, Mr. Green is back! Um, I don’t have to stand guard on the deck in the cold anymore, do I? This damn job…”

After shouting, without waiting for a reply, he plopped down in an empty seat at the student table, grabbed a roasted chicken leg, and took a big bite.

A few seconds later, the restaurant doors reopened.

Gellert Grindelwald appeared there. His dark travel robes were still neat and crisp, and his silver hair was combed cleanly, but his somber aura almost drowned out the noise in the restaurant.

Ignoring the quiet atmosphere in the restaurant and the countless curious and awe-inspiring gazes, he walked straight to the faculty table and calmly sat down in Dumbledore's seat.

McGonagall and Professor Flitwick breathed a long sigh of relief, their tense shoulders relaxing.

"Give me another hot cider!" Professor Flitwick waved to a nearby elf carrying a tray.

Watching Grindelwald elegantly pick up a napkin to wipe his actually clean hands, Snape turned to the side and asked in a low voice, "Mr. Grindelwald, have you killed Voldemort?"

"So, does that mean we can go back to Hogwarts tomorrow?"

　Thanks to Earl Hall, Pigs Can Fly, An Ordinary School Student, Wu Zui, and Shui Se Bing Xin for their monthly tickets.

　　------

　　I'm currently on a business trip, so today's post was rushed and might be a bit messy.

　　Also, there might not be a slot tomorrow; I might have to take the day off.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)