"Albert Anderson!"
Voldemort stared coldly at the man who had seized the chance to come knocking at his door, an inexplicable rage rising in his heart.
"I never thought you would protect someone too. It seems Snape is very important to you."
Albert had risked coming here naturally to stop Voldemort from killing Snape and discovering the "truth" about the Deathstick in his hand.
He needed Voldemort to firmly believe that he possessed the Deathstick.
At least for now, he could not let Voldemort discover that the Deathstick in his hand was fake. Otherwise, Snape would have died for nothing, and Albert's previous plans might turn into a joke.
Albert could not tolerate things falling apart at such a critical moment.
So, he made his move.
"Do you think you're that old fool Dumbledore, or do you think you can kill me?" Voldemort fixed his eyes on Albert, a cruel smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he made no attempt to conceal his murderous intent.
Without Snape weighing him down, Voldemort was confident he could teach the damn Mudblood before him an unforgettable lesson. Besides, he believed Snape would soon return with the Death Eaters.
"Who knows?" Albert paid no heed to Voldemort's chilling killing intent. "You always have to try. Maybe it'll work."
The moment the words left his mouth, Albert raised his wand and put them into action. The ruins of the manor around them rolled back like crashing waves and slammed fiercely toward Voldemort.
A thunderous boom rang out, and dust filled the sky, obscuring both their vision.
An ordinary Dark wizard would likely have been crushed into pulp by that blow, but Albert's enemy was Voldemort. To Voldemort, this seemingly ferocious attack was utterly laughable. Especially now that he no longer needed to