Even as the Killing Curse's web of light pierced through the flames, Herpo still gripped his wand tightly, not daring to relax in the slightest.
He did not believe that Voldemort, with his level of magical skill, would suffer a backlash from his own spell—especially not from a mere Blasting Curse.
Sure enough, the flames grew even fiercer, rolling and raging through the room like enormous waves, as though they intended to swallow the entire Headmaster's Office.
Herpo immediately understood Voldemort's intentions. He sharply raised his wand, and the blazing fire soaring toward the ceiling vanished completely.
As far as the eye could see, the Headmaster's Office was nothing but wreckage. The walls were charred black, and the furniture had been reduced to dust.
Even the X-shaped green-light marks that could weave together into a web of Killing Curses had been burned away by the violent flames, yet there was no sign of Voldemort.
No sign of Voldemort meant...
Behind him!
The thought sent a chill down Herpo's spine. Relying almost entirely on instincts honed through a thousand years of dueling, his body darted aside before his mind could react.
At the same time, he swept his wand back and slashed it downward. "Protego!"
The instant he moved, a massive surge of magical power erupted behind him and crashed toward his back like a tidal wave.
Fortunately, he had cast the Shield Charm in time. An invisible shield stood before him, colliding with the magical surge with a deafening boom and blocking all of the incoming force.
Turning one's back on an enemy was an extremely dangerous thing. He understood that better than anyone.
As he turned around to search for Voldemort again, he did not waste those brief moments.
Casting purely on instinct, he sent a thick black mist