Douglas had barely finished speaking.
Voldemort sensed that something was wrong.
An utterly bizarre shudder, originating in the deepest reaches of his bloodline, rose up his spine without warning and instantly spread through every limb and bone.
He felt a trace of a will that was not his own suddenly appear within his new, powerful, perfect body.
Immediately afterward, an irresistible force erupted from within him.
That force acted precisely on his waist, his spine, and his knees.
He heard his bones groan under the unbearable strain.
Then, before the horrified eyes of all the Death Eaters, he, the great, invincible Voldemort, the Dark Lord, involuntarily... bent at the waist.
Inch by inch, slowly yet unstoppably.
*No... **NO!!!***
A silent roar erupted in Voldemort's mind. He fought with all his strength, mustering every scrap of magic in his body to resist this "betrayal" from within.
But it was useless.
It felt like being a marionette, desperately resisting the invisible puppeteer who controlled every string.
In the end, his upper body formed a perfect, humiliating ninety-degree angle with his legs.
He really was bowing to Harry Potter.
The Death Eaters stopped breathing entirely.
What had they just seen?
They had witnessed a scene that could shatter their faith and destroy their understanding of the world.
Their omnipotent master, the Dark Lord who had just proclaimed that he would rule the world, was making a perfectly formal bow to a fourteen-year-old boy.
And that boy had just said, in a calm voice:
"I'm your father."
At the very moment Voldemort used every ounce of his will to forcibly straighten his bent back amid a series of explosive cracks from his bones.
A streak of spell-light flashed past, impossibly fast.
"Expelliarmus!"
Voldemort did not even have time to react.
He only felt a