The Wand Shows Its Might

"Hehehehe--" Skylar's laughter rang out at an inopportune moment, and anyone could hear the mockery in it. "I can't believe it--" Skylar showed an exaggerated expression of surprise, but made no attempt to hide the disdain in his eyes. "What have I just witnessed? Have you guys met some like-minded partners and are planning to form a grand villain alliance?"

"Even Voldemort, who Voldemort in Great Britain for over a decade, knows how to humble himself, protect himself, and assess the situation. Compared to him, you are still so young, and you have a much brighter future ahead of you—" Morgan smiled sweetly, "Why don't you consider joining us and seeking a path to mutual prosperity together?"

"Do you realize that your overly enthusiastic recruitment rhetoric has already exposed your true intentions? You might value talent and cherish ability, but I don't believe that's your real purpose. All you've said is—" Skylar's playful smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression, a shrewd glint in his eyes, "... to obtain me to appease the soul of Meredith within you."

Morgan's smile faded. She began to scrutinize Skylar more seriously and said softly, "It seems you've done your homework. You seem to know quite a bit about the situation between me and your girlfriend!"

"Don't underestimate the foundation of Pure-blood families. If you trace it carefully, the history of the House of Malfoy predates even the Avalon School you founded—" Skylar said coldly, "It's just Bloodline Fusion —an ancient possession and body-stealing method that uses bloodline fusion as a starting point to attempt to assimilate magic, spirit, soul, and body together."

"In fact, what I know is probably far beyond your imagination—" Skylar's lips curled slightly. "Do you know, in your conversation just now, I guessed another thing..."

"Oh, really? Tell me, what is it?" Morgan stared intently at Skylar, his burning gaze Winky.

"As you said before, my wand has evolved, and the ancestors of the Thestral are none other than the Draco Mortem— "

"Yes, and then?" Morgan nodded seriously, asking with a earnest expression.

"Are you still going to keep up the act?" Skylar chuckled softly, raising his wand slightly, and said, "My wand has indeed undergone a magical transformation, but—"

"I've already used alchemy to re-coat the outer layer of the wand with Vine Wood— " Skylar gently pinched the wand, and suddenly, tiny cracks appeared on the wand. Then, layer after layer of wood, thinner than paper, slowly peeled away, transforming the wand from its original charcoal black, resembling a fire poker, into a slender, gleaming silver wand. The dark gold patterns on the wand slowly lit up and dimmed, maintaining this intermittent state of light and shadow, as if—

The wand came to life—it was breathing—and at the same time—

The air around the tip of the wand seemed to tremble rapidly, as if invisible magic was about to erupt.

Suddenly, Voldemort and Barbarossa both exclaimed "Ah!" in unison. They looked at each other, their expressions first showing shock, then slowly turning into deep seriousness.

Just a moment ago, their wands vibrated unusually, sending a tingling, itchy sensation through their hands as if they'd been electrocuted. But it was nothing to worry about—

They suddenly and inexplicably felt that the mysterious connection between themselves and the magic wand had been abruptly severed.

They could no longer feel the ease and naturalness of holding their own wands—now it felt more like they were using someone else's wand to cast a spell, and they only felt a slow, awkward feeling when they poured magic into the wand.

They all simultaneously considered a terrible possibility.

For some reason they don't understand, their wands have lost their core spirituality and become standardized spellcasting weapons, rather than destined partners that can communicate with the spellcaster and resonate with their magic.

In this state, although they can still cast spells, both the speed and fluency of their spells, as well as the magical power and destructive force of the spells, will be greatly reduced.

If their opponent were just an ordinary adult wizard, or even a mid-level Auror, it wouldn't matter much, since the difference in strength is undeniable and cannot be changed by a wand. However, just minutes before, Voldemort was locked in a fierce battle with Skylar, and it could even be said that Voldemort was being subtly suppressed and at a disadvantage.

If we factor in the difference caused by the wand...

Voldemort was filled with nothing but regret— Merlin's beard! Tonight was the night of my resurrection, a night of great joy. I just wanted to resurrect peacefully, maybe kill Potter at most. What did I do wrong? Why did the story I envisioned turn out like this...?

Leaving aside Voldemort's emotional breakdown, let's turn our attention back to Skylar.

"You can only sense a few possibilities for its true state—" Skylar paused, looked Morgan over again, and then slowly said, "And regardless of the possibility, it's all inextricably linked to the Thestral's ancestor Draco Mortem. That is, something in your hand resonated with my wand. This resonance, deeper than the soul, arguably the deepest level—can only be from the same era and at the same level as the Draco Mortem..."

"Logically, the most likely scenario is that you're holding the Peverell family's Elder Wand —or rather, the Death Wand. But I happen to know its whereabouts; it's not in your possession. So I can confidently rule out that possibility—" Skylar smiled faintly, his eyes radiating powerful confidence. "Your mention of sensing some bloodline power has reminded me—"

"The blood flowing through your veins—is it the blood of the Hell Dragon Emperor, one of the five ancient divine dragons? To be more precise, the Avalon School you've heard of is actually inherited from the first wizards in ancient times who practiced the 'Divine Dragon Power'?"

"Impressive!" Morgan gave her an approving look and even clapped her hands softly. "You guessed right. The power in my bloodline is indeed inherited from the Hell Dragon Emperor— "

"I truly can't believe you could deduce so much information from just one simple sentence from me. I have to admit, you truly deserve to be called the most outstanding genius of our time. I'm so glad I didn't meticulously plan and go to great lengths to teleport you here alone, and even had Voldemort lead the charge against you, forcing you to reveal your trump card. Otherwise, even with our superior numbers, today's confrontation with you would have been far more unpredictable..."