Voldemort lowered his head and stared in disbelief at the flame that had suddenly appeared before him.
In a sense, Firestorm combined with Fiendfyre was the sharpest sword, capable of effortlessly destroying any obstacle in its path.
Back on the Hebrides, the combination of those two spells had even been able to slice through an island with ease.
This time, while the spectacle was nowhere near as grand, Voldemort's body was nowhere near as tough as an island.
Just as Voldemort was reeling from the Basilisk's death, scarlet flames flashed across his chest.
Voldemort finally came to his senses and staggered back, lowering his head to stare in disbelief at the blinding cluster of red flames.
Moments later, cracks began to appear across his body, like parched earth dried beneath the sun.
Soon, the Fiendfyre vanished, but the cracks on Voldemort's body continued to multiply. A flowing red glow could faintly be seen within them.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but all that came out were muffled whimpers. His crimson eyes grew brighter, completely obscuring the thin pupils within.
With a bang, Voldemort's body suddenly tilted before crashing heavily to the ground. Tom Riddle lay sprawled there like a crudely made statue.
In an instant, the surroundings fell silent.
Rosier, who had been standing nearby intending to watch the show, wore a bewildered expression. She had never expected Kyle to actually kill that Voldemort.
How had he done it...?
"Ugh... ngh..." A sudden groan shattered the silence.
It came from Snape not far away. His body seemed to be out of control as he began to shake violently, his eyes rolling white and his mouth slightly open...
Faintly, Kyle seemed to hear piercing wails coming from somewhere far away.
Snape shook even more violently, nearly jumping