Night Battle in Knockturn Alley

Night fell, thick and dark, Knockturn Alley in its deep darkness. Even the most rampant whispers and sounds of trading on ordinary days had vanished without a trace. The whole street was filled with an eerie stillness, as if a bloody storm was brewing between heaven and earth.

The campfire at the Werewolf settlement flickered in the breeze, illuminating the menacing shadows of wolves. Some crouched, others patrolled, their breaths revealing an instinctive alertness. In the flickering firelight, a Black Shadow seemed to blend into the night, silently emerging and moving like a predator, its presence Silencio as it approached the depths of the camp.

Night Cat.

She stood silently in the darkness, her eyes reflecting a cold, eerie light, like a lurking cheetah, her gaze sharp as a blade, fixed intently on the largest tents in the center of the camp—

That is the heart of Fenrir Greyback's tribe, where tonight's hunt is about to begin.

"Let's do it."

With a low command, the figures lurking in the darkness sprang into action. Thirty wizards appeared instantly, their wands flashing as a series of Nonverbal Spell tore through the night, precisely killing the Werewolf patrolling the perimeter. The twelve newly recruited Werewolf warriors transformed into ferocious beasts, tearing open their enemies' throats with their claws and fangs.

The camp erupted in chaos. Angry wolf howls ripped through the night sky. Awakened by the sudden attack, the Werewolf grabbed weapons and fought back. However, this was only the beginning—

From the Knockturn Alley, a dark red magical signal suddenly rose into the sky, like blood-red lightning tearing through the night.

"It's our turn."

On the rooftops of the two rows of shops in Knockturn Alley, figures rose from the darkness.

The Vampire prince Bathory, who had been waiting in the shadows, revealed a bloodthirsty smile. Her retinue simultaneously raised their heads, their red eyes burning with the fervor of a hunt. The next second, they transformed into black mist, howling through the night sky and rushing straight to the battlefield.

At the same time, in the very center of Knockturn Alley, the largest Borgin and Burkes, suddenly creaked open with a heavy groan, revealing the hunched figure of Hag Annis in the shadows.

Her messy black hair danced in the night wind. She grinned, revealing menacing fangs, and a chilling laugh echoed through the night sky, like a hungry predator smelling the blood of its prey.

Behind her, a group of Hag emerged like Ghost, their scarlet eyes gleaming in the darkness, their fangs gleaming coldly in the moonlight, staring greedily and ferociously at the impending carnage.

Meanwhile, at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, a small group of people quietly appeared on the other side of the battlefield. Their diminutive figures moved swiftly through the darkness, their eyes gleaming with a cold light.

With a low shout from Slak, the Goblin raised their fingers, and the air was instantly stirred by an invisible force. Whirlwind blades suddenly materialized, emitting a hissing sound as they sliced through the air. Under their precise magical control, they transformed into streaks of cold light that traversed the battlefield.

"Guo Bujiji!" As the incantation in the Gobbledegook rang out, dozens of silver swords, as if drawn by invisible threads, spun, chopped, and thrust, slicing through the Werewolf's throats with unparalleled precision, piercing their chests, and even those who tried to dodge were caught up by the wildly dancing blades and taken their lives.

The Goblin stood on the periphery, their fingertips twitching slightly, like conductors controlling a symphony of death, making silver blades leap and reap in the darkness. Accompanied by mournful howls, the battle completely tilted in favor of the Night Cat.

The battle escalated rapidly. Though the Werewolf were fierce, they were utterly powerless against this well-prepared army. They scattered and fled, but hunters relentlessly surrounded them from all sides. In an instant, blood mist filled the air, and mournful wolf howls echoed everywhere.

The battle had only been going on for less than five minutes, and half of the forty-odd Werewolf had already fallen. But Fenrir was still nowhere to be seen on the battlefield, which meant that, as Skylar had predicted, there was indeed another group of Werewolf hidden as a backup plan.

"Boom--!"

A dilapidated wooden house suddenly collapsed, shattered beams and dust flying everywhere. Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, a massive figure slowly stepped out—

Fenrir Greyback.

He had completely transformed into wolf form, his fur gleaming with a sharp, cold light, and a low, bloodthirsty breath escaped from his ferocious wolfish snout. Behind him, twelve equally robust Werewolf stepped forward one after another, each exuding a dangerous aura, their muscles bulging, their steps heavy and powerful.

The already routed Werewolf was greatly encouraged by Fenrir's appearance. Their remaining bloodlust was fully unleashed, and they roared as they charged towards the enemy, instantly intensifying the battle.

"Annihilate!"

Fenrir let out a long, chilling howl, a sound that seemed to possess some terrifying magic. The moment the Werewolf present heard it, their pupils turned a horrifying blood red, and their bodies trembled violently.

Their fur lost its original brown color and turned into a metallic black, as hard as steel. Magical light burst forth on its surface, but only Qidian Mars!

The Night Cat faction's wizards immediately cast a pre-prepared Human Restoration Charm, attempting to dispel the Werewolf's beastly forms.

However, once the spell hit its target, it was like a stone thrown into the sea—completely ineffective!

In the next instant, the black-haired Werewolf pounced out furiously, tearing the battlefield apart. Their sharp claws left terrifying afterimages in the air, and in just a few breaths, they severely injured several wizards!

The tide of battle was surprisingly turned around at one point!

Not far away in Diagon Alley, the doors of Malfoy Armor Shop were tightly shut. Night had shrouded the entire shop in shadow, and the interior was silent, with only an invisible, chilling atmosphere in the air.

Deep inside the shop, Skylar, Sarf, Savannah, and Latifa knelt quietly on the carpet, their gazes fixed on the golden halo floating in mid-air before them.

Within the halo, the battle in Knockturn Alley is presented in real time—the howls of Werewolf, the splatter of blood, and the intertwining of wizards' spells weave together a chaotic and tragic scene in the eerie golden glow.

Latifa kept her eyes tightly closed, her hands slightly raised, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead as she maintained the complex "Mystic Light Spell".

Skylar stared intently at the scene within the halo, his gaze darkening slightly. He spoke slowly, his voice unusually grave. "I was careless..."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze sharp as a blade, and slowly said, "I didn't expect they were prepared all along..."

His fingers tapped lightly on his knee, his voice low and deep. "This is Dark Blood Transformation —an ancient form of Dark Arts that can transform Magical Creatures into weapons of war. It not only greatly enhances magical resistance, but even Killing Curse will have difficulty killing them in one hit."

Within the halo, the Werewolf's obsidian-like metallic fur gleamed coldly in the campfire's glow; each ferocious, roaring monster was proof that Dark Arts had utterly twisted life.

Sarf and Savannah stood up, and the former said, "Master, isn't it our turn to go on stage?"

"Hmm," Skylar said without looking up, continuing to observe the battle within the golden ring, "Be careful in everything."

As the Werewolf activated their Dark Blood Transformation, the scene descended into chaos.

The human wizarding force, completely unprepared for this situation, was the first to be hit, with a total of 10 wizards being torn to shreds.

The Vampire were alright; seeing the situation was unfavorable, they immediately transformed into black mist, flew into the air to avoid the attack, and rested for a while before choosing another opportunity to fight.

Although the Hag and Goblin were farther away than the Night Cat, they still suffered considerable losses. Some Hag and Goblin were severely injured and forced to retreat into the Borgin and Burkes, relying on the terrain for defense.

Old Borgin, who had been hiding in the shop observing, finally made his move, throwing out a variety of strange small objects from the windows, such as skulls that would explode and emit green smoke upon landing, and snake-shaped silver objects that coiled on the ground, waiting for an opportunity to attack the intruders' footsteps.

Thanks to Old Borgin's gadgets and the unsuitable terrain for attack, the Werewolf's offensive was slowed down.

Just when everyone thought the battle had reached a stalemate, a green spark exploded in the air, transforming into a monstrous pattern with a dragon's head and a snake's body.

Two tall figures appeared on the roof of Borgin and Burkes, their wizard robes radiating an alluring magic, the robes billowing high in the wind behind them.

It was Sarf and Savannah.

A cruel smile appeared on Sarf's face, hidden in the shadows. Her seductive tongue licked her crimson lips, as if she were eagerly anticipating the upcoming battle. Savannah shook her head, letting the silver strands of hair that had been obscuring her eyes fall to either side of her cheeks. A faint smile also appeared on her cold, beautiful face, as if she were excited that she could finally fight for her master.

With Sarf's cold shout, the ground of the entire Knockturn Alley seemed to tremble.

The soil on the street suddenly cracked, and an invisible force forcibly tore open fissures in the ground, spewing out large amounts of dust.

Countless snakes of varying sizes and colors surged from the ground like a tide, hissing terrifyingly. Then, shadowy figures glowing with green light crawled out from the cracked ground.

Slytherin Parseltongue - Myriad Serpent Net Formation!

Savannah's Inferius Tactics Ultimate Technique - The Myriad Corpse Slaughter Formation!

The swarm of snakes surged forth like a torrent into the Werewolf, their sharp fangs gleaming with venomous light as they viciously tore at the Werewolf. The Inferius, their eye sockets burning with an oily green soul fire, moved with swift and eerie agility, unlike the sluggish dead. They quickly approached the Werewolf, wielding their Goblin -like fists and claws with a metallic sheen, tearing into their enemies' flesh with a chilling glint.

"What the hell are these things!" a Werewolf roared, tearing a black snake apart with its claws, but the next moment, more venomous snakes surged up like a tide, coiling around his limbs, their sharp teeth piercing his flesh.

Another Werewolf swung a huge metal rod and cleaved an Inferius in two. But the Inferius didn't fall; it just stiffly turned its head, its empty eye sockets staring at the Werewolf. The next second, the werewolf's claws pierced through its abdomen!

The tide of battle turned completely.

At the same time, chaos suddenly broke out among the Werewolf. The Little Wolf let out a howl of alternating lengths and began to Killer the surrounding Werewolf along with three other undercover Werewolf companions.

Upon seeing this, the Vampire in mid-air transformed into black mist once more and swept down to the ground; inside the Borgin and Burkes, the Hag and the Goblin poured out again, shouting incoherent slogans.

Savannah's black cloak billowed in the night wind as she slowly stretched out her hand and gently moved her fingers, as if she were manipulating a magnificent game of chess.

The next second, the awakened Inferius seemed to hear an invisible command. Their movements became orderly, no longer chaotic ghouls, but elite warriors unafraid of injury and death. They began to form ranks, coordinating with the attacks of the others, gradually forcing the Werewolf into a corner.

Just as Skylar's forces were about to completely crush the Werewolf, a suffocatingly cold wind swept across the entire area.

That's enough.

Black mist churned, and a tall, sinister figure slowly emerged. The Werewolf abruptly stopped, as if their hearts had been gripped tightly, and even the air seemed to become suffocating.

Voldemort has appeared.

Tonight's operation was entirely his doing, intended to get Fenrir to gather all the Werewolf here in one fell swoop, leave Knockturn Alley, and officially join his legion.

The battlefield Silencio; everyone instinctively stopped what they were doing and looked up at the Dark Lord.

Everyone here already knew about Voldemort's resurrection and felt no surprise or panic. However, Voldemort was still the infamous Dark Lord. He simply stood there, and the entire battle situation instantly turned around. The hunters who had just held an absolute advantage were now too afraid to move, like prey being targeted by a ferocious beast.

Voldemort's cold gaze swept across the entire area, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Interesting. My Werewolf servant has fallen so low as to be hunted by these scum."

He raised his wand, black magic surged, and a chilling, despairing aura began to permeate the air—

Bang--!

A powerful shockwave exploded!

As if in response to Voldemort's arrival, another completely different magical wave swept across the battlefield—a sense of oppression, majesty, and a sharp, all-encompassing force like a whirlwind!

A handsome young man with a beaming smile slowly emerged from the shadows.

Skylar has appeared.

He strolled over, his black wizard's robes fluttering in the night breeze. His deep gaze met Voldemort's, and the magical aura between them clashed in the air, creating ripples that sent shivers down one's spine.

Voldemort's eyes suddenly darkened. Of course he remembered Skylar —the young man from the House of Malfoy —whom he had fought not long ago at Little Hangleton Cemetery.

Without exchanging a single word, the two swung their wands almost simultaneously.

Boom--!

In an instant, the world lost its color!

The black energy of the death curse collided violently with the twisted magical storm, the shockwave tearing the earth apart and sending everyone on the battlefield flying! Werewolf scattered and fled, while Vampire, Hag, and Goblin retreated to avoid this world-destroying magical clash.

Voldemort's pupils contracted slightly. He sensed Skylar's magical energy fluctuations, which were almost equal to his own, and knew that he wouldn't be able to take all the Werewolf away as planned today. He couldn't reveal his resurrection yet. If he were to fight a protracted battle with Skylar, it would definitely attract the attention of the Ministry of Magic or Dumbledore, which would go against his original plan.

Skylar, however, remained calm and stood still, like a towering, unmoving mountain.

Voldemort did not make another move. He stared at Skylar, remained silent for a few seconds, and then let out a low, cold laugh.

"Hmph... you... one day, I will definitely kill you."

Before he finished speaking, his figure suddenly turned into black mist and disappeared in the night wind—he had chosen to retreat.

Voldemort's retreat meant the battle was completely out of control. Without the Dark Lord's protection, the Werewolf scattered, and only the sounds of fierce fighting and pursuit remained on the battlefield.

In the end, nearly forty Werewolf were wiped out. Apart from Fenrir and his eight henchmen who managed to escape, the remaining 11 Werewolf all surrendered.

The Night Cat looked down at the wolf carcass at its feet, gently licked the blood from its fingertips, and sneered, "Even easier to kill than wild dogs."

Bathory said casually, "It's a pity a few got away."

Skylar put away his wand and gazed intently at the night sky.