At that thought, Voldemort felt his fury blaze anew.
If Dumbledore had not interfered, he could have advanced further along his own "Path of Magic," just as Dumbledore had.
Instead of having to enhance his magical power by drawing upon the "soul power" of the Squib Legion as he did now.
There was a hint of anticipation in Voldemort's eyes. He could hardly wait to witness the devastation on the battlefield below.
He had already tested the Dark Wizards Herpo had offered him. Their magical abilities were exceptionally formidable, no weaker than his Death Eaters of old.
Dealing with those Hogwarts teachers and students should have been an effortless matter...
He had even thought of a plan: if the Dark Wizards had moved quickly enough, they should already have subdued the Hogwarts teachers and students.
Then, when he returned to the ground battle, he could make Dumbledore beg him in exchange for the lives of the Hogwarts teachers and students.
At the thought of that possible scene, a gleeful curve touched his lips.
Compared to Voldemort, whose objective was clear and straightforward, Dumbledore had far more complicated matters to handle.
While fending off magic that had grown even more powerful, he also had to remain constantly wary of Voldemort's Killing Curse.
Defense consumed far more than offense. Even with Quirrell supporting him from the side, the wounds on his body continued to multiply.
He vaguely sensed that Voldemort's body seemed to have undergone some changes. Unfortunately, as both he and Voldemort were falling, they had not truly come face-to-face, leaving him unable to confirm his suspicion.
The ground drew ever closer. The night wind battered against them, carrying the clamor of the battlefield.
The thunderous booms of Blasting Curses, the ceaseless chants of spells, and piercing screams intertwined, making Voldemort