Even as the web of light from the Killing Curse pierced through the firelight, Herpo still gripped his Wand tightly, not daring to relax in the slightest.
He did not believe that, with Voldemort's level of magic, he would suffer backlash from his own spell—much less when it was only a Blasting Curse.
Sure enough, the firelight grew even more violent, rolling and raging through the room like a great wave, as if it meant to swallow the entire Headmaster's Office.
Herpo immediately understood Voldemort's intention. He jerked his Wand up, and the dazzling firelight that had shot toward the ceiling vanished completely.
As far as the eye could see, the Headmaster's Office was nothing but a wreck, the walls charred black, the furniture reduced to powder.
Even those "X"-shaped green light brands that could interweave into a net of Killing Curses had been burned away by the raging firelight, yet Voldemort alone was nowhere to be seen.
If Voldemort was nowhere to be seen, that meant...
Behind him!
The thought sent a chill down Herpo's spine. Almost by the instinct honed through a thousand years of dueling, his body moved before his mind could think, and he suddenly dodged to the side.
At the same time, he raised his Wand behind him and slashed it sharply downward. "Protego!"
The instant he moved, a vast surge of magical fluctuation erupted behind him, slamming toward his back like a huge wave.
Fortunately, he cast the Shield Charm in time. An invisible shield blocked in front of him and collided with the magical fluctuation, producing a deafening, muffled boom, blocking all the incoming magical force for him.
Turning one's back on an enemy was an extremely dangerous thing. He understood that better than anyone.
While he turned around to search for Voldemort's