Voldemort, America

After the dome broke, the light of the Fiendfyre shot up through the gap, illuminating the sky hundreds of meters above Lestrange Manor.

The entire estate resembles a carved-out Volcano, with the orange-red light tinting the surrounding tree canopy a deep bronze color.

A colossal beast materialized from the flames, emerging from the collapsed roof. Giant Serpent coiled around the half-collapsed West Wing Tower, flames flickering between its scales. The Dragon spread its wings, sweeping across the only remaining wall on the north side. The wall melted and collapsed where its wingtips touched, a large section disappearing in seconds. Chimera stepped out of the ruins, its six legs shattering the portico pillars, each step accompanied by a dull thud as the ground cracked.

The guests had long since vanished.

They made a lot of noise when they fought before, but at least they were kept inside the Banquet Hall.

The wall is there, the roof is there, the sound can be heard, but the gravel doesn't fly far.

Now the dome has collapsed, the walls have crumbled, and a behemoth of fire with its Main Consciousness has crawled out of the building.

The Structural Solidification Charm failed layer by layer at this temperature, and the Magic protection that had lasted for over two hundred years was peeled away like paper.

Even if you've never seen Fiendfyre or read about him in books, you should understand what's going on now.

The heat of the flames could be felt from dozens of meters away, but what truly made one's legs go weak was what emanated from deep within the flames.

It pressed down on you, making you want to back away, to leave, to get as far away as possible.

The very essence of destruction.

Fiendfyre, strictly speaking, is not fire; fire is merely its manifestation.

Essentially, it is a cursed creation endowed with destructive tendencies.

Once out of control, it develops its own consciousness, or rather, instinct.

It devours, spreads, and burns everything until there is nothing Sickle burn, or until it runs out of energy itself.

A few of the bolder guests glanced back near the iron fence at the manor entrance, then ran even faster.

The Banquet Hall's dome was mostly shattered, revealing the night sky above, with the moon hanging in the western sky.

The light from the Fiendfyre mingled with the moonlight, casting the ruins in flickering light.

Regulus stood in the center, Bellatrix lying on the rubble at his feet.

Fiendfyre surged around him, yet he maintained the most basic connection; the flames neither touched him nor Bellatrix.

He looked into the darkness.

The Giant Serpent's tail swept across the area, then retracted halfway, coiling its body and squeezing to the other side.

The Dragon's wings had barely spread when they snapped back, the tips barely touching the ground, and the entire dragon tilted to one side.

Chimera raised its front leg to stomp down, it suddenly veered to the side, its six legs tripping over each other, and its massive fiery body crashed onto the ruins, creating a sea of fire.

The three giant beasts huddled together in the farthest corner of the manor, burning the remaining building materials.

They were burning it very intently, without even looking back.

Fiendfyre was afraid.

This judgment instantly formed in his mind.

He still retained the most basic connection with Fiendfyre; he had long since given up on closing it, but the connection remained.

The out-of-control Fiendfyre has a tendency to Main Consciousness and is driven purely by destruction.

It burns and devours everything, including the one who Spellcasting; nothing can make it actively avoid it.

But now it's avoiding it.

The desire to go in that direction was forcibly rewritten from the outside; something directly suppressed its will, telling it that it couldn't go that way. There was only one condition for this to happen: the other party's Magic Power far exceeded its own, and the other party's will could suppress the Fiendfyre.

A figure emerged from the darkness, ruins at his feet, moonlight and firelight shining upon him simultaneously.

Regulus only glanced at it, yet he saw the entire face.

The face still retains the outline of a human, the features are still features, and they are all in their proper places, but they have begun to deviate.

Waxy skin covered his entire face, and the veins beneath the skin were faintly visible, like twisted vines climbing at the base of a white wall.

His nose was so flat that it was just two narrow slits, and his nostrils barely moved when he breathed.

Her lips were extremely thin, dark purple, and almost indistinguishable from her skin; when she pursed them, they resembled a shallow wound.

Its eyes were dark red, with a narrow pupil standing vertically in the iris, slowly contracting in the firelight.

The long, pure black robe, its fabric clinging to the body yet appearing loose, had its collar open, as if it had been casually slipped on.

His robe trailed on the gravel, the hem sliding silently as he moved, making his movements appear as if he were floating.

One glance is enough; anything more would be impolite.

During this period, Voldemort was already undergoing self-transformation, his appearance evolving into a non-human form.

Regulus quickly analyzed the situation in his mind.

The ultimate form of Pureblood Wizards? The complete elimination of Muggle blood? A snake totem reminiscent of Slytherin?

It probably gets a little bit of everything.

But there was one thing he hadn't anticipated.

This face should be unsettling, it should be bizarre.

If a person's facial features deviate in a non-human direction, according to normal aesthetic standards, they should be considered ugly.

But at the boundary between the firelight and the moonlight, watching this person walk over, he saw a kind of self-governing order.

Those inhuman features—the flat nose, the vertical pupils, the waxy white skin—each one, taken individually, deviates from the realm of humanity. But when put together, each piece is in its proper place; one more or one less would be wrong.

The arrangement resembles the scales of a snake; it's neither particularly beautiful nor ugly, but it makes sense.

Perhaps it is the result of human intervention, or perhaps it is the natural transformation of Magic Power into a certain form after reaching its deepest point.

Regardless of the type, once it reaches that level, it possesses a beauty based on the power itself.

Distorted, inhuman, yet perfectly logical.

Regulus also noticed a detail: he walked without making a sound.

The ground was covered with pebbles and broken stone slabs; there should have been a sound when you stepped on them, but there was none.

The sound was swallowed up, or rather, the sound disappeared automatically around him; it was as if something covered him, absorbing all the extraneous sounds.

Then comes Magic Perception.

Regulus's Magic Perception was instinctive; it was always active and had long since overlapped with his line of sight. What he saw was what he sensed, and his Magic Perception automatically covered the area his line of sight reached.

When he met Flamel in France before, he deliberately spread his senses to test him, but he was exposed.

From then on, he understood that he couldn't actively probe a wizard of this level, but passive perception integrated with his vision was fine.

I'm just looking; seeing is perceiving, it's not offensive, it's just existence.

He watched Voldemort approach; he had visual feedback, but no Magic Perception.

It's empty there.

What his senses had just detected were changes in the surrounding space, traces left by the passage of Magic Power, and lingering images of something being drained.

But he never touched the Magic Power itself from beginning to end.

Now that the person is standing right in front of you, all traces have vanished, leaving only a clean, blank space.

His vision told him there was someone there, but the Magic Perception superimposed on his vision returned nothing; there was no Magic Power signal in that direction. Completely different from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's Magic Power is like a sea; standing on its shore, you can feel its vastness and depth.

It provides feedback that is clear and consistent.

Dumbledore could certainly remain undetected, as was the case outside the Shrieking Shack. He didn't want to be discovered, so Regulus couldn't detect him until he wanted to reveal himself.

That was a deliberate restraint, a master wizard's perfect control over his own Magic Power.

But most of the time Dumbledore is perceptible; he chooses to make himself perceptible.

It was a gesture, and also a gesture of goodwill.

On Voldemort's side, even the traces were indirect, as if he never intended for anyone to directly touch him in the first place.

This sense of contradiction made Regulus's scalp tingle; his sensory systems were fighting each other.

Vision tells you it exists, while the Magic Perception tells you it doesn't. The two signals flood the brain simultaneously, but they can't be combined.

It's like trying to capture a four-dimensional existence using three-dimensional perception; the tools themselves are simply insufficient.

But beyond the Magic Perception, other things reacted.

The body is responding; signals are being sent from deep within the bones, as if the deepest structures of the body are responding to the presence of the outside world.

Blood flow under the skin is increasing, but the heart rate isn't accelerating. These two things shouldn't happen at the same time, but they do.

There were no abnormalities in the limbs, but in the bones, starting from the spine and spreading along the ribs to both sides, there was a continuous tremor, slight but clear. It was like standing next to a huge low-frequency sound source; you couldn't hear the sound, but your bones were listening for you.

His soul was telling him that something was there, beyond his perception, but it was there.

This was Regulus's first experience with an existence of this level. Dumbledore could certainly have made him experience these things, but he didn't.

These thoughts swirled in his mind for less than a second before he pulled himself back to focus on more important matters.

They can't run away, and they don't need to.

Voldemort himself was standing right in front of him; Apparition would be suicide.

Flamel's Metal Ball and Fawkes's tail feathers are usable, but not quite there yet.

Moreover, if Voldemort truly intended to kill him, because of Bellatrix, or something else, a Killing Curse would suffice.

No need to walk over, no need to show yourself, you can finish it remotely from your manor.

But he walked over.

Orion and the others were outside; they couldn't leave until the very last moment.

Then I thought, why did he run? What did he do?

It was just a fight with Bellatrix; it was a family conflict, and at Po Tian, it was just a dispute between the Black family and Lestrange family.

Besides, Bellatrix cast the Unforgivable Curses first, so he has the right to be afraid.

This was all part of the design; we thought it through before we started, and this was the situation we were trying to prevent.

As for fighting, it's not an option. It might be okay in the future, but it's absolutely not okay now.

Then we'll deal with it.

Voldemort's arrival must have been for another purpose.

Regulus's first thought was to win them over.

During this period, Voldemort was still accumulating power. The core of the Death Eaters had taken shape, but the periphery was still expanding.

Pureblood families are his core strength. The Black family is one of the oldest Pureblood families in UK, holds a seat in Wizengamot, has influence in the Ministry of Magic, and enjoys a higher reputation among Pure-blood Circle families than most others.

He is the Heir of the Black family, and his talent has long been known in the Pure-blood Circle. Voldemort wanted to win over Pureblood families, and he was a target worth coming to see for himself.

Moreover, the Black family had already sided with him politically, having chosen their side long ago.

Voldemort doesn't even need to confirm his loyalty now; he only needs to confirm his value. Loyalty can be gradually won over with time and power, while value is right before his eyes.

There may also be an acceptance test of the results.

It's been half a year since the Dark Enlightenment was sent out, and he wanted to see how much it had corrupted him—whether he had withstood it, absorbed it, or used it separately. Bellatrix was beaten so badly just now because she used something he had given her; this result was worth verifying personally.

Or the reason is simpler: he was already at the manor, and the commotion here was too great.

His house was demolished, Fiendfyre came out; he came to see what was happening.

Both should exist; regardless of the type, the conclusion is the same.

It can be handled.