I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 550 How could it be so powerful?

Irving frowned.

The emerald green eyes exuded a faint chill.

The truth hidden on the island of Samothrace is far more complex than just a divinely ordained tower.

There must be an even deeper secret.

In Muggle records, that island has another name: the Temple of the Gods.

According to epic accounts, a ritual of continuous worship of the gods lasted for over a thousand years.

At first, Owen simply thought it might be an instinctive act by someone tempted by the ancient magic leaked from the Tower of Gods, but now it seems that the island is much more than just an Outer God.

"Oh—don't you want to talk?" Voldemort's voice rang in his ear.

It was full of disdain and mockery.

Irving looked him straight in the eye.

A phantom image was reflected in those scarlet vertical pupils.

A golden, circular image was reflected in his pupils.

It was full of mystique.

"I'm too lazy to waste words with you." Owen's move was extremely fast. It was also lightning, squeezed out of nothingness, a column-shaped object like a hundred-year-old giant tree in the Forbidden Forest, bursting with a piercing scream and dazzling light, shooting straight away.

"You're just a puppet, a mere illusion. What right do you have to look down on me?"

With that, he swiftly swung his left hand, and a longsword made entirely of magic materialized, slicing through the air with a faint whooshing sound, heading straight for Voldemort's head.

"Heh—interesting."

A harsh, mocking voice rang out.

Voldemort released his grip on Harry's neck.

The next moment, a multi-layered golden ring woven from intricate ancient runes appeared around him.

Irving's attacks all stopped at the surface of the Ring of Fortune, unable to advance an inch.

"Tsk—" A hint of anger welled up in the boy's heart.

He glanced at Hermione beside him.

After giving the other person a look.

He then fused the magic sword with lightning.

When the two different spells came into contact, they instantly destroyed the magic that was supporting their stability.

Suddenly, a white light shone brightly.

The violent explosion instantly engulfed the group of people.

Everything around seemed to be swallowed up by this power. The lightning, freed from its restraints, ripped across the decaying earth, like blooming flowers, leaving its mark on the land that had been ravaged by Voldemort's arrival.

Ash, soil, and decaying plants turned into smoke that enveloped the region.

Only the sound of thunder could be heard from the invisible dust.

I can't feel anything else.

"puff--"

"Bang!"

A loud slamming sound.

The three figures flew out of the smoke and dust like cannonballs.

It fell to the ground.

"Damn it!"

Owen held Hermione in his arms, using himself as a cushion, which prevented the little witch from suffering serious injuries.

As for himself, his physical strength had reached an exaggerated level. Although he felt pain when he landed, he was not injured.

Harry was in the worst condition; he lay on the ground, barely alive, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, with at least a few broken ribs.

"call--"

Heavy breathing filled the air—a golden light shone through the smoke and dust like a curtain, obscuring all the dust from the inside out, and in an instant, the open space was cleared up again.

Voldemort stood still, head raised, looking down at the three wretched lambs.

One layer of the golden magic ring around him shattered, falling off like crystals and landing on the ground with a striking fluorescent light.

And around him, at least three layers of magical rings remained unmoved.

Just moments before, Hermione used the Armor Charm at the last second. The close-range explosion shattered the invisible armor in an instant, then sent all three of them flying.

On the other hand, Voldemort was completely unharmed. He wasn't even repelled.

"He has truly become the very vessel of the Outer God."

Owen helped Hermione up and told her to go look after Harry.

Now he probably understands the gap between himself and Voldemort.

The difference lies in the application of magic.

No matter how powerful he is, he has only studied magic for a little over a decade. Even if he obtained some information about past spells and casting techniques from Zhang Xiaolin and Dean Bridged, it was ultimately just scattered fragments.

Give him some time. Ten years—fifty years—one hundred years.

Perhaps he can reach the level of a god, or even surpass it.

But it was too late.

Voldemort, however, was different—he seemed to have acquired complete and systematic mastery of all the spells and magic of the gods. This was something Voldemort, a mere dabbler, could never match.

Take, for example, those rings formed from ancient runes. They are symbols of divine power. In Italy—when he first confronted a part of the Outer Gods directly—this was their method of attack.

He himself is now completely incapable of using ancient runes in this way.

He was still using the spell.

Among contemporary figures, only Victor possesses a mastery of runes that bears a resemblance to that of ancient deities. His undulating leaps and bounds bear the shadow of the Dharma Ring.

"But—why?" Owen couldn't understand why a fragment of the Outer God would teach Voldemort what it had accumulated over tens of thousands of years.

On what grounds?

Could Voldemort be the offspring of Zion?

Just in the hope that Voldemort would defeat him?

Is this reason sufficient?

This is giving away magic power and ten thousand years of experience. Could that crazy Outer God really do something like this?

"Meow?"

Sirocco, who had just been blasted away, returned to Owen's feet.

"Go keep an eye on her," Owen said.

Then he glanced at Bakal, who had also flown back.

He was indeed unaware of Dumbledore's plans.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t vent his frustrations.

There's no way he'll slink away in disgrace.

He's just Voldemort—what's wrong with killing him again?

The Phoenix Crystal Wand glowed with a silvery-white light.

The next second, the once clear sky began to be filled with dark clouds.

Barker spread his wings and soared high, like a sharp sword.

Its body suddenly grew larger in a few breaths, returning to its true size.

Then, crimson lightning flashed all around him.

It swallowed and spat out golden flames from its mouth, while crimson lightning transformed into a long blade and slashed down simultaneously.

Fire and lightning intertwined, as if the entire sky had been split in two, the impacts colliding in the air to create a deafening roar.

But this is far from enough.

Because Voldemort blocked them all with just one spell ring. This freed him up to deal with the others.

Another ring of light suddenly appeared.

Countless ancient runes were compiled into a golden sword.

The sharp swords were like shooting stars, so densely packed that they seemed to surge forward.

"Sanchez's force field—"

Irving raised his right hand.

A rose-shaped petal opened, deflecting all the swords aimed at him.

"Bang—Bang!"

The golden rain of swords flew out and fell indiscriminately on the surrounding earth.

Each time it touches the ground, it unleashes a spectacular explosion, as dazzling as fireworks.

The area within a few hundred feet resembled a volcano, subjected to endless lava eruptions from its crater.

In an instant, golden light—red lightning—orange-red dragon breath appeared. Only these three colors existed between heaven and earth. The exquisite colors resembled oil paints interwoven together.

"Oh my god—" Harry, who had downed several mouthfuls of energizing potion, clutched his chest in pain.

He could feel his bones regrowing and his torn internal organs healing. The pain was excruciating, like drowning, making it difficult to breathe.

But physical pain could not capture his full attention.

The scene before one's eyes, resembling a battle of gods, can make one forget everything else.

Hermione also supports force field magic.

The golden swords that had been heading their way by coincidence were once again deflected.

Her eyes were also filled with shock.

She had seen this scene before.

But that time it was facing a real god.

When did Voldemort acquire this power?

This is impossible—how could he be so strong?

Not only them—the members of the Order of the Phoenix and the Union who were responsible for staying behind were also staring at Voldemort in shock.

Is such powerful magic even something that humans can wield?

"Ron—" Koyatl, who had returned to his original form, struggled to maintain his Ironclad Charm and made his way step by step toward a crater that had been blasted out not far from him.

Ron is really unlucky.

Just now, when those sharp swords began their indiscriminate attack.

He was with Ginny.

Faced with the sharp swords, he immediately activated the Ironclad Spell. However, the Ironclad Spell was not a force field spell; it was already difficult enough to block the golden rain of swords coming from the front.

Moreover, this rain of swords came from all directions.

A golden sword exploded behind him, even though he had sensed it beforehand. Ginny was right behind him—in the nick of time, he grabbed Ginny, shielding his sister in front of him, and jumped into the crater that had just been blasted in front of them. The aftershocks of the explosion hit him. Koyatl saw Ron cough up blood.

That's why she's been working non-stop.

"Ron—" she shouted.

Despite the onslaught of wind and rain, they were fortunate enough to reach the pit.

"How is he?" she asked anxiously.

Ginny, her face streaked with tears, trembled as she pulled the potion from her pocket.

Ron lay supine on her lap, utterly limp and weak, blood flowing out and staining half of Ginny's body red.

"It's okay—it's okay!" the girl cried, breaking down, but she didn't dare stop what she was doing.

Because of Hermione's "earnest teachings," almost everyone of them carried some healing potions with them at all times.

"It's okay—" she said, as if trying to reassure herself.

The stimulant was poured into Ron's mouth for free.

Then came the white stigma—a topical application of white stigma covered his back.

Koyatl wanted to go and help—but she had to fend off the still-heavy rain of swords.

I can't spare even a little bit of energy.

The girl looked away—Kingsley, Moody, and the others were protecting the few guests who hadn't yet evacuated, and they themselves were in dire straits.

Others also struggled to make a difference; most of their armor spells were simply no match for the rain of swords. If it weren't for Dumbledore protecting them, at least 60% of the wizards present would have died in this attack.

And the battlefield where the battle took place.

Koyatl saw the light in Owen's wand grow brighter and brighter. Azure, white, and purple hues associated with the stars gathered like particles at the tip of his wand.

It surged and expanded.

After holding its position for a good ten seconds, he suddenly pushed it forward.

—A torrent of the soul.

The magic surged forth like an unstoppable meteor, crashing with overwhelming force against the magic ring that Voldemort was casting as he unleashed his rain of swords.

"Snap—" The clear sound was particularly distinct.

The rain of swords stopped and dissipated the next second.

Which ring is broken?

"A perfect opportunity!" Koyatl's eyes narrowed. A green light flashed at the tip of her wand.

Death raised his scythe and swiftly charged toward Voldemort.

And she is not alone in having a number of wizards who share the same ideas.

There were at least a dozen battle-hardened wizards present.

They attacked just like Voldemort the instant the rain of swords disappeared.

The sky was filled with spells of various colors, like sparks piercing the darkness, leaving long trails of smoke.

"Source Stream - Lightning - Starfall Strike!"

Zhang Xiaolin twirled the folding fan in her hand.

"Click—"

The next second, a bolt of lightning suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the void—Bakal, who had been hiding in the clouds after the rain of swords erupted, reappeared.

Crimson lightning also gathered together.

Two bolts of lightning struck down simultaneously.

It pierced straight through Voldemort's entire body.

Along with those dozens of spells.

Like a cannonball, it completely submerged that area.

The dormant soil was once again blasted into the air.

In the lightning, it decomposes and evaporates, turning into smoke and dust.

Thick smoke obscured everyone's view.

"call--"

Hermione crept up behind Owen. "Is he dead?"

"I don't think so—" Irving frowned.

He could still sense the powerful magic gathering ahead, which showed no sign of dissipating.

"How is this possible—so many curses—"

Hermione said in disbelief, "Even back in Italy, when facing a real god—these attacks were effective."

“That’s not a true god,” Irving said. “It’s just that some gods are of divine essence.”

"The seven divinely inspired towers each contain a part of the essence of God."

But—it wasn't an equal seven parts; there were definitely some more and some less. Perhaps the remains on the island of Samothrace contained far more than those in the other divinely ordained towers.”

Hermione activated the force field magic once again.

She wasn't sure what she was about to face, but using this magic always brought a sense of reassurance.

And behind her.

Harry was getting up, clutching his chest.

He was covered in rotten mud, and clutched his wand tightly in his hand.

He stared intently at the smoke and dust, a wave of fear washing over him.

Suddenly, Harry's forehead scar throbbed with pain. He had felt the same stinging pain when Voldemort grabbed his neck.

This made Harry realize that his scars would hurt whenever Voldemort got close to him.

"Get out of the way!"

Although he did not see Voldemort himself.

But his deep fear still made him react instinctively.

Two Killing Curses—from the Death Eaters who suddenly appeared behind him—damn it, all my attention was on Voldemort—Harry cursed inwardly—and dodged to the side, the curses missing him by a millimeter.

Then, Harry, who was lying on the ground, saw him.

Voldemort suddenly appeared between himself and Owen and Hermione.

He seemed to have been drawn to his own shouting.

He originally intended to target Irving.

Another beam of green light shot towards him, and Harry could no longer distinguish up from down from left from right. The scar still burned, and he felt like he might die any minute now.

The intense pain left Harry listless, his eyes barely open—at which point his wand acted on its own.

(End of this chapter)